#for context my partner says ‘bean oh bean oh bean’ when he wants to get my attention 🥰

[plushiebean]

#thank you ☺️ #for context my partner says ‘bean oh bean oh bean’ when he wants to get my attention 🥰 #and I love plushies lol #the rest are just fun haha #polls #🫘.txt

[strayingdawn]

request: “...something like little bit angsty but fluff at the end? Something how y/n was getting back late at night and someone follows them and they call boyfriend Changbin?”

warning: feeling unsafe, stalking

wc: 2,2k

(i got a little carried away,, so sorry.)

—————

Only the ticks of the store clock echo throughout the empty cafe as Y/n slides their damp cloth across the counter. One of the girls scheduled to close today called in sick, so Y/n figured the extra money wouldn’t hurt and filled in for her. However, they did not expect to end the day all alone after the remaining, scheduled closer left early due to a family emergency.

So here they were, cleaning the counters of the deserted cafe, five minutes till closing. Y/n honestly didn’t mind closing alone. The aroma of coffee beans and the calm silence surrounding them felt almost comforting in a way. The clock created a soothing rhythm as the nearing end of a long day at work gave them a sense of relief.

But that moment was short-lived as the front door’s bell cut through the tranquil atmosphere. A young man of tall stature wandered through the door, much to Y/n’s displeasure if they were being honest. The man was actually quite a regular to the cafe. With that being said, surely he would know the cafe’s hours by now since he has passed the door on which they’re displayed many times. He was around Y/N’s age and had burgundy brown hair with bangs that always hung forward, creating a shadow over his deep, brown eyes. He usually just ordered a simple pastry and sat in some corner at the back, reading a book, phone, or computer. None of his behavior ever seemed unusual or noteworthy, so Y/n never concerned themselves with being any more cautious than they usually are around strangers. That is until one of their coworkers pointed out that the man’s gaze seemed to linger on Y/n often. It wasn’t too unusual for people’s eyes to wander around their surroundings and occasionally get stuck on something or someone. Y/n was guilty of it themselves sometimes, but that thought didn’t hinder them from raising their guard still.

Back to the present, Y/n simply planned to tell the man that they could no longer run the coffee machines nor were there any more pastries to sell and give him a short and sweet apology. However, the sound of his voice put a slight wrench in those plans.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you already closed?” His eyebrows were raised to create a somewhat innocent look.

Well, the place is empty, chairs are on tables, and the sign on the door you just walked through says we close in four minutes. What do you think?

That’s what Y/n wanted to say, but they held their tongue for the sake of politeness and professionalism. Instead, their lips formed a kind smile as they said, “Well, we’re technically still open for a couple of minutes, but I’m sorry to say that I can no longer sell anything.”

They hoped that was enough to urge the brunette out the door and back onto the street lamp-littered sidewalk. The man in question, however, was not on the same page. He began to shift his weight from one foot to the other as his gaze scanned the whole room, seeming to investigate every corner as if he was searching for something.

“Are they making you close all alone, tonight?”

Now, why would he ask something like that. Y/n was honestly caught off guard by such an unnecessary question; one whose truth they felt should not be openly exclaimed. They had to think quickly, so they just had to bend the truth a little.

“Not exactly. One of my coworkers had to leave unexpectedly..but they’ll be back.”

No one made them work extra; Y/n simply offered their help. Their friend did, also, leave unexpectedly and would be back...tomorrow morning to report for work. The stranger’s brows furrowed as his eyes became unfocused in thought. What he was thinking, Y/n couldn’t decipher.

“...I see..would you like some company while you wait?” He raised his eyebrows with slight optimism, and the corners of his mouth rose slightly.

Now, the man was clearly dragging out this interaction far longer than it needed to be. Four minutes had definitely passed, so he had no reason to be here anymore.

“No, no, that’s fine. Thank you, though. The cafe’s officially closed, now, actually. So I’ll be out of here in no time. And my boyfriend will be here any minute, now.” Y/n wore the most genuine smile they could muster, positive that they left no room for the customer to object to leaving.

His eyebrows twitched, and he appeared slightly taken aback when the word “boyfriend” left Y/n’s lips. However, the look left as soon as it came, leaving his usual resting face, lost in thought.

“Oh, okay then,” he flashed a full smile this time, showing his top row of pearly white teeth. Then, he turned his body with slight hesitation, footsteps pointing to the door, “I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he finally left. There wasn’t anything inherently creepy about his last statement, but with context, his wording and tone was somewhat off putting. The city was pretty big, and their paths would most likely only ever cross in the cafe. So why would he say “around.”

Anyway, it wasn’t the only weird thing he had done, so it was time to move on to more pressing matters. Changbin should have been here by now. Y/n didn’t bend the truth, that time, when they mentioned their boyfriend’s approaching arrival.

Y/n opened their phone and went to Changbin’s contact. They texted each other three hours ago about Y/n’s sudden overtime, and Changbin was fully aware that he would pick them up. So where was he? Y/n called him twice, both with no answer, before simply leaving a text that they were on their way home. The walk home was roughly ten minutes. Y/n loved it after early shifts but usually tried to catch a ride if the sun had already set, like tonight.

Dreading the extra cardio after a long, tiring day, Y/n just gathered their belongings, double-checked their closing duties, and lastly locked the cafe’s door, mentally prepared themselves for the journey ahead of them. Only a few steps in, they noticed another set of footsteps echo theirs. Changing the rhythm of their footfalls, the rhythm of the mysterious set of steps changed as well, falling in sync. Subconsciously, Y/n brought their hand towards their bag which held protective measures such as a taser and pepper spray. Yet, all of their movements, including their breathing, abruptly halted as a familiar voice called out to them.

“Y/n!”

Y/n slowly turned around, meeting the same brown eyes they saw just moments ago. At this point, Y/n was completely unsettled, but they refused to let it show.

“Hi..again. What are you..still doing out here..this late?”

“I never saw your boyfriend,” he paused for less than a millisecond, but Y/n could still sense that he was questioning their earlier statement, “get here, so I wanted to make sure you left safely.”

He had to have been waiting for at least ten minutes. And for an employee they’ve barely talked to, who already said they were taken care of.

“Well, that’s..very thoughtful of you, but you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” Y/n let out a little chuckle that also sounded much more stiff than intended and held their hands out to their sides like they were presenting themselves, “I seem to be leaving in one piece, so I think I’ve got it from here.”

He didn’t seem too convinced, or maybe he was simply ignoring their words as he took a step forward, causing Y/n to instinctively take a step back.

He pressed on, however, clearly not sensing your discomfort. “I’m not sure I would have peace of mind not knowing whether or not you got home safely.”

“Trust me, it’s fine-”

“I insist-”

“They said, ‘it’s fine.’” Changbin’s voice boomed past your ears.

He had lost track of time while preparing something special for you at home. On top of that, his music was blasting at extreme volumes, surely becoming a nuisance to the neighbors, which caused him to miss both of Y/n’s phone calls. Although, he’s thankful he remembered his commitment with you when he did. He threw the first coat and pair of shoes he could find before, basically, running through his door, almost unhinging it, to get to his partner as soon as possible. Now, he saw Y/n’s rigid form and some random stranger who, clearly, could not take a hint.

Changbin walked towards Y/n and gingerly slipped his hand around their waist, feeling them slowly relax as they leaned farther into his body and gained a steady breathing pattern. His glare was cold as well as neutral and aimed right at the man in front of him.

“I believe I can take it from here.”

The brunette was slightly unnerved but quickly attempted to put on a strong front. “And who are you?”

“Their boyfriend. Now step away before I become their bodyguard and make you.” If it wasn’t already cold outside, the icy aura radiating off of Changbin would have surely done the job.

The creep was definitely weighing his options. However, facing Changbin did not seem to end in his favor, so he took one step back, placing his eyes on Y/n. “...See you around, Y/n.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it.” Changbin’s eyes never wavered.

With one last glare at Changbin, Y/n’s nuisance for the night finally walked away. As if a weight was lifted off of their chest, Y/n let out a deep breath they didn’t even know they were holding. Regaining their composure, their gaze drifted towards their boyfriend who was still eyeing the fleeing brunette. Y/n promptly hit him on the chest.

“Where were you?” Y/n hit his chest, catching him off guard but not actually hurting him.

Changbin let out a grunt at the sudden assault. “I..got a little caught up with something. Something important.”

“And you couldn’t answer the phone?”

“Wel-“

Y/n was honestly too tired to be reasonable right now, so they just let out a deep sigh and began to walk towards the couple’s shared apartment, expecting their boyfriend to follow.

Around ten minutes later, Changbin was a fumbling mess as he tried to promptly open the apartment’s front door under the pressure of Y/n’s tired stare. When the door finally opened, it presented nothing but a dark, silent home.

Y/n walked in before Changbin and immediately dropped their bag which felt heavier than when they left that morning. However, when they started to step into their second house shoe, they froze after the delicious smell of food drifted from the kitchen to their nose. Changbin noticed Y/n’s sudden stop, and a flash of realization grazed his features.

“What’s that smell-” a pair of hands being gently placed on Y/n’s shoulders halted their sentence.

“Just..walk towards the kitchen,” Changbin instructed them with a soft, low voice.

“How am I supposed to walk there in the dark.”

“It’s not like you’ve never done it before in the middle of the night.”

Changbin’s tone was slightly accusing but still soft like before. Y/n just remained silent and followed his directions. Once they both arrived at the kitchen’s entrance, Y/n felt the weight of Changbin’s hands leave and heard his footsteps approach the lights.

As soon as Y/n’s sight recovered from the sudden intensity of light, they were engulfed in shock and appreciation. The kitchen table was covered with flowers and many of their favorite dishes. Fairy lights hanging all around radiated a soft glow, making the heartwarming gesture warm their heart even more.

“Is this what…?”

“..was so important? ..Yeah. I knew you must have been really tired from working nonstop this past week and the whole day, today. So I thought this was the least I could for you since you’ve been doing so much for everyone else...do you like it?”

“...Like it. I-I love it! Thank you!” Y/n couldn’t say much more before they felt the tears pricking their eyes.

“Wait- why are you crying?!” Changbin rushed to his love’s side and embraced them while panicking because of their unexpected reaction. “Are you sure you actually love it?”

Y/n let out a few broken chuckles and weakly punched his chest. “Yes, I’m sure, idiot! I’m just too tired to handle all this!”

“Oh! Thank goodness. I thought I did something wrong.”

“Don’t worry, Binnie. You always make it right. Thank you. For tonight. And for everything.”

“Anytime, babe.” He gave a sly wink with the little pet name but quickly put on a serious face and looked deep into Y/n’s eyes. “I love you”

Y/n couldn’t help roll their eyes at the term of endearment but didn’t fail to return the meaningful words. “I love you, too.”

“Well, let’s dry these tears,” he tenderly wiped away the few tears that escaped Y/N’s eyes, “and get you out of these uncomfortable clothes.”

#stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #skz #stray kids changbin #skz changbin #seo changbin #skz angst #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft #castlevania #resident evil village #ooc

[ticklish-touch]

OH how about Fritz for the ask meme?

Yesss my shitty gremlin man >:3

1.) On a scale of 1-10, how ticklish are they?

Probably a solid 7-8, hehe

2.) Where is their most ticklish spot(s)?

THE BEANS. His toe beans are killer. Also his thighs and ribs are pretty bad.

3.) Which spots are they not ticklish?

Tbh he's ticklish pretty much all over. Maybe his arms/forearms?

4.) What is their laugh like?

Even though he has a very raspy grating speaking voice, his laugh is actually really heckin cute. He giggles, squeaks, hiccups and yelps. Though if you tickle his worst spots intensely enough he will absolutely let out a grating mandrake screech, so uh, be prepared for that

5.) Do they enjoy tickling? if yes, is it a fun platonic/familial thing, or kinky thing to them, or can it be both depending on the circumstance?

He loves it, mostly loves being a little shit and sneak-attacking with tickles to get what he wants out of people. It started platonic, since his grandmother and some friends in his village would playfully tickle him sometimes, but he absolutely enjoys it in a kinky context too.

6.) Are they more often a lee or ler, generally?

He typically tends to be more of a Ler, but he does enjoy getting got when he's in the right mood for it.

7.) Who is someone in their life that they tickle often?

There isn't really one set person, he's a tickle monster to everyone he comes across. He is friends with Clancy tho and they travel together sometimes, so I can see them getting into tickle fights.

8.) Who is someone in their life that they get tickled by often?

See above; Clancy's probably the only one who consistently sneaks tickles to him.

9.) Does the word “tickle” or any variation of embarrass them?

Not in normal conversation, and he can say it just fine. But teasing him with "coohie-coos" and "tickle-tickle" while wrecking him will make him screech, especially if you say it in German.

10.) Are they embarrassed about their ticklishness, and do they try to deny/hide it?

Depending on his mood. He won't deny that he's ticklish, he just tries to hide how ticklish he is. But other times he enjoys it as a sort of challenge to see how much he can take. He is kinda embarrassed that his beans are so sensitive.

11.) Would gentle tickling or rough tickling affect them more?

Rough tickling, definitely. He may protest it, but he'd much rather get totally destroyed than endure soft tickles. Gentle tickling bores him and just makes him needy & makes him want to retaliate.

12.) Is there a specific spot that they enjoy being tickled, either exclusively or more than other spots? what is it? He may be embarrassed by it but he loves having his toe beans getting got. He also really enjoys tickles along his ears - and his butt & base of his tail when he's with a partner.

13.) Is there a spot that they can’t stand to be tickled, either because it’s just too sensitive, or it’s uncomfortable/painful/etc? what is it? Not really? Maybe since he has digitigrade feet, you wouldn't want to tickle the tendons on the back of his leg/foot too hard or it'd get painful.

14.) Would they ever purposefully bug a friend/partner/sibling into tickling them, and if so, how would they go about it? Absolutely. He'll be a total brat, annoying & provoking his friend or partner and daring them to wreck him in revenge.

15.) Does teasing affect them? Yes, he may be a beast at dishing out the teasing & taunting but he absolutely cannot take it himself, he'll cuss you out the whole time.

#tickling #ticklish #tickle asks #original character #tickling questions #questions #alp #elf #imp

[dreamyjoons]

heartbreak trials // jjk

⇢ it all started with a bet: the one with the highest body count would get the most illustrious prize - Namjoon’s bedroom. For you and Jungkook, the race was on.

Genre/warnings: angst, smut! roommate!au, sex talks, best friend & fwb!Jimin, very background Namjin, swearing, alcohol use & drunkenness, creepy/pushy guy at a bar, oral (m & f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, a creampie thing (lmao sorry), overstimulation, snarking constantly I can’t stop it

Words: 13.8k

A/N: In celebration for Jungkook’s birthday, enjoy this baby. I hope you all like it. Thank you to the incredible underthejinfluence for the support, suggestions and letting me complain regularly lmao.

“I swear, one of these days I'm gonna kill him.”

You throw yourself over the arm of the couch, letting your head flop on Namjoon’s knee. You sigh and pout up at him, waiting for him to pay you attention.

He casually ignores you, thumbing through the book in his hand. Another louder sigh passes your lips. Namjoon rolls his eyes, hastily dropping the bookmark in his hand between the pages. Once the closed book sits neatly in his lap, he turns his unimpressed gaze on you.

“What’s he done now?”

“He brought someone else home last night. Which is fine” -noting Namjoon’s raised eyebrow- “but Jungkook always seems to pick the loud ones.”

“I see. But do you not think he’s getting back at you?”

You sit bolt upright and spin, fully focused on Namjoon. Sure, you and Jungkook had some weird… thing going on when it came to having hookups in the house. Sometimes it felt a little premeditated. But you didn’t hate each other enough to have that kind of rivalry. Not that you thought so, anyway.

“For what?”

“When you brought home that guy from work who yelled the whole time you both fu-”

“Yes, your point?” You rush, ignoring the heat creeping across your face.

“Kook had an exam the next day.” Namjoon shrugged, his fingers idly teasing the edge of his book.

“That? That was last year Joonie! he’s graduated already!” You yelp, throwing up your arms for good measure.

“Yeah, but you never apologised.” You splutter at his quiet words, a Jungkook-shaped rage beginning to simmer inside you.

“Did he apologise when that devil ex of his put her thong in my bedroom? Or when that other crazy bitch tried to punch a hole through our connected wall-“

“Oh Sana? I thought you’d like her.” Jungkook smirks, strolling into the living area.

You jolt as he swaggers into the room, messy hair falling into his eyes. Wearing yet another all black ensemble, he casually strides to the sofa and sits himself between you and Namjoon, shimmying in the spot for good measure.

“What do you think?” You snap, scooting as far away from the demon as possible.

“Oh, I'm not interrupting, am I?” He smirks at you, brown eyes glittering with mischief.

“Always-“

“You’re fine, Jungkook. Actually I’ve been meaning to talk to you both.” Namjoon says gently, leaning forward to place his book on the table before turning to face you both. You and Jungkook both forcibly break your tense glare at each other to turn to Namjoon.

“I finally have a date for when I move in with Seokjin.” He smiles, his little dimple flashing on his face.

“Congrats, man!” Jungkook grins, slapping a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“That’s amazing, Joonie. I bet you’re both so excited.” You smile, warmth spreading through you. It had been a long time coming - two bean poles who annoy each other constantly but found each other made your heart swell.

“We can’t wait, but that leads me to something about here. Obviously this was originally my flat, so I’m gonna pass it to you both. But it’s listed under my master bedroom.” He stops, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “So you both need to decide between you who’s going to have my room.”

An uneasy glance passes between you and Jungkook, a chill descends upon the room.

Namjoon’s room was not only nearly the size of yours and Jungkook’s room combined, but it also had an ensuite bathroom. It was prime real estate, and there was no way you were going to pass that up.

“I’ll have it-”

“Me!”

You both shout before another deadly glare passes between you. His eyebrows knit as he stares at you, but you’re not intimidated. You never are by Jungkook. He was a bunny! And apparently he banged like one-

“No way Jungkook, I deserve it! I’ve had to listen to you one-stroke wonder for nearly two years now-“

“Not a chance, Y/N! If I have to listen to you fake another orgasm I swear-”

“Fake? Fake?!” You splutter, heat surging to your face as you gawp at the floppy-haired idiot.

“Oh please, I’ve had to listen to you enough to know when you’re putting it on, which sounds like it happens regularly.” He shrugs, flicking his hair out of his eyes before smirking over at you.

“What makes you an orgasm expert?” You scoff.

“Oh baby, I know how to give an orgasm or three.”

You splutter and try to play it off as a cough, but Jungkook grins triumphantly. Namjoon loudly clears his throat, shuffling to the edge of the couch to give you both a meaningful stare.

“I’ll be out of here by the end of next week, but the contract will be changed in just under a month.” Namjoon gets to his feet, tucking his book under his arm. “You both have until then to decide.”

You stare at each other, sizing the other one up.

“I don’t care who takes the room as long as nothing gets broken in the inevitable fight you both are gonna have. Now, goodnight.” He smiles, before ducking out of the room. You and Jungkook both sit in silence until you hear his door shut.

You’d known each other for a year or two - you’d moved in with Namjoon after graduating after seeing an ad for a room. Jungkook had moved in three months after, having needed a place for his final year of college. That had been almost a year ago, and things were a lot different.

It wasn’t that you didn’t get on - you did. Most of the time. But there had been this strange atmosphere between you which had resulted in a weird competition; namely who can have the most sexual partners. Or in Jungkook’s case, the loudest.

“Obviously we both want the room.” He states, and you force yourself not to roll your eyes so hard your retinas detach.

“Yeah.”

“So how about we come up with a fair way to battle it out?” He asks, his full attention on you.

“Like what?” You ask, but he merely shrugs, hiding behind his hair slightly.

“I dunno. But we need a fair competition, because neither of us are gonna with over an argument.”

“I mean, I probably would-”

“No. Let's do this somewhat fairly.” He asserts, raising an eyebrow at you. You huff, but finally nod.

“Fine, but I can veto it if it’s a stupid idea.” You counter, holding out a hand.

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, gripping it as you shake hands, finalizing your agreement. You both break apart, sinking into separate ends of the couch.

“It’s gonna be weird without Joon being here.” Jungkook says quietly, and you nod at his words.

“Who’s gonna burn all our food and break up our fights now?” You smile, a genuine ache seeping its way into your chest.

Jungkook lets out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he looks around the room. So much of Namjoon’s personality was in that place. The book titles with too many words strewn about the pace, the huge, earthy blankets laid over nearly every surface. The one bonsai he trusts you and Jungkook not to kill sitting proudly in the window. It was cosy, and completely Namjoon.

A silence settles over you, the air palpably thick.

You drag your eyes back to Jungkook, and find his eyes on you. They’re gentle but probing, like he’s trying to read your deepest thoughts. You nervously drag your lip between your teeth, heat flashes across your face as his eyes follow the motion.

And there it was. The deep ache in your stomach whenever you’re alone together, or when he creeps into your thoughts every day. You could never dwell on it, because you and Jungkook in any other context but roommates wasn’t something you could see. The risk of a broken heart is something you couldn’t handle, so you avoided it at all costs.

You push yourself to your feet, needing fresher air to fill your lungs. His bright eyes widen at your movements, following your every move.

You stare back at him, hair pushed back out of his face, mouth parted as he watches you, hands resting on his muscled thighs.

“Got work tomorrow, gonna get an early night rightokaybye-” you rush, darting around the couch and heading to your bedroom.

You shut the door and lean against it, tipping your head back against the wood. You take a deep breath and slip into autopilot, changing and climbing into bed, trying to clear your mind of Jungkook and his smile. And those thighs.

— —

Staggering through the front door, you kick your shoes off and slam your keys onto the little key rack Namjoon excitedly hung a month ago. You push the thought aside, not wanting to deal with the sadness of Joon moving out today.

Dragging your feet, you moan as you stumble into the kitchen and throw yourself on one of the island chairs, slumping into the counter.

“Fucking managers… ‘we need you to file these before you clock out’... yeah well file my fist into your face, asshats…” you mumble into the counter, the cool granite seeping into your forehead.

“Rough day?” A tinkling voice greets you, and you lift your heavy head to stare at Jungkook, half in the fridge with a banana milk in his hand, wiping some escaped liquid around his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“... have you been there the whole time?”

“Yeah. Work sucked, then?” He asks, closing the fridge and leaning on the counter, head in his hands as he looked at you. You blink stupidly at him, his big eyes sucking you in.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, it was crappy.” You rush, before slamming your head back down on the counter, letting the cool seep into your burning face.

This is why you prefered arguing with Jungkook. Fighting him was easy. Because when you’re not being snarky and insulting each other, he has the stars in his eyes when he talks to you and you become a stuttering mess.

“You need to blow off some steam.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you pick your head up to look at him.

“Yeah, by taking the bubbliest bath ever and sleeping until next January.”

“Nope, you know what I mean.” He winks, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Thanks, but no. I’m not in the mood.”

“Awh, don’t think you could get it?”

“Please. I can pull way more people than you, Jungkook.”

“I doubt that, Y/N. I mean, look at me.” He gestures to himself, and you focus on keeping your eyes fixed firmly in his face. You weren’t going to follow those gorgeous hands-

“Whatever. Keep dreaming.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

“Bet?”

“Yeah, say, one the one with the highest body count gets Namjoon’s bedroom?”

“I dunno Jungkook, that sounds like a lot of work. And shaving.”

“You haven’t got to shave. Or are you just looking for an excuse?” He smirks at you, eyebrows wagging.

“... how long would it have to be for?”

“Until we have to sign the contract for the room, right? Namjoon said less than a month, so let’s say… three weeks.”

You flick your eyes over him, weighing him up.

It would be a lie if you weren’t tempted. Both you and Jungkook had a … colourful sexual history, which seems especially ramped up with your unspoken competition over the last year. There was a chance you could win, but no one could resist Jungkook - you often wonder how you’ve lasted so long.

But then again, Namjoon’s room did have a shower with amazing water pressure.

“You’re on.” You grin, holding out your hands.

Jungkook reaches across the counter and takes your hand in his, shaking excitedly. He pulls back over the counter and gives you a bunny smile, eyes practically sparkling.

“Don’t we need some rules or something?” You ask, and his smile drops as he groans.

“No? It’s sex, there’s no rules.”

“Oh come on, stuff like using dating apps, and, I dunno, lying about our number.” You frown, waiting for his reaction.

“Why would I lie?” He asks, genuine concern crossing his face. A twinge of guilt settles in you, and you have to admit: Jungkook may be a lot of things, but he’s never been a liar.

“Fine, fine, I know you won’t. But we need to talk some things through.”

A fierce discussion and a lot of colourful words later, you both agree to some tentative terms for your competition.

“Okay, so. One, no dating or hook-up apps, we have to do this the old fashioned way. Two, we can’t interfere with each other when we’re trying to get laid-“

“Ugh, can you not say it like that?” You groan, sinking back into your chair.

“Okay - when we’re trying to bump uglies-“

“No-“

“Three, we can sleep with the same people, but more than once doesn’t count. Failing to do any of this will mean we forfeit.”

“Right. And once we’re done we note it down on…” you pause, getting to your feet and walk to the fridge.

You take off the magnetic white board and scrub it clean. You draw a line down the middle, and put your and Jungkook’s name on either side of the line.

“Namjoon’s gonna be pissed that you got rid of his cleaning rota.”

“Shut up. We tally it here.” You tap the board for emphasis.

“Done. So are we starting now?” He asks, but you shake your head. It wasn’t enough that work had worn you out, but now the exhaustion from the conversation and the task ahead of you was threatening to totally wipe you out.

“Nope, too tired. You’re not gonna have an advantage over me like that Jungkook. Tomorrow.” You assert, getting to your feet.

He stares at you for a moment, assessing. A soft look passes his face - a glimmer of something. But it vanishes instantly.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He says gently, his eyes fixed on you.

“I want to, Kook. I’m gonna win that bedroom and sing in my shower all the time. I’ve got this.” You grin. He watches you for a moment before his demeanour changes, slipping back to the bubbly Jungkook you’re so used to and grinning at you.

“Keep dreaming, Y/N.” He smiles, before picking up what’s left of his banana milk and chugging it. You roll your eyes and walk away, your bed calling your name.

“Good luck getting someone to sleep with you when you have banana breath. Night Jungkook.” You call over your shoulder.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You walk through your door and shut it behind you, finally letting yourself sag on your bed. You stare at the ceiling, the bet ticking through your brain.

It was probably dumb, but competition with Jungkook was always interesting, and it had been a while since you’d had some action. At least you could find someone to distract you, and get a nice bedroom out of it.

You wearily get to your feet, changing out of your work clothes and into pajamas. Then, after a second’s thought, you tidy your room just a little. If you’re gonna have company, you may as well be presentable.

Finally you drop into your bed, bone weary but mildly excited. Time to get up on the saddle, and show Jungkook who’s the real cowboy.

— —

Your blissful sleep is interrupted by a dull thudding, one that seemed to get louder and louder. You vaguely register it coming from the wall you share with Jungkook, but you were desperately trying to cling to the remaining tendrils of sleep. A grunt meets your ears, and you realise something wasn’t right. Groggily you open your eyes, the rude awakening souring your mood already.

“Jungkook! Fuck…” you hear a faint whine and you freeze.

You hear a few more thumps until reality hits you. Throwing yourself from your bed, you grab your phone and storm out to the kitchen. Namjoon sits at the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee calmly. Thankfully you couldn’t hear the smut from here, so you sink into the seat next to him, planting your forehead onto his shoulder.

“Take me with you to live with Jin, I beg of you.”

“You started this, Y/N. Never make a bet with Jungkook on anything! The boy will stop at nothing to win.” He sighs, placing his coffee down.

You sit bolt upright and glare at him suspiciously. He blushes a little, but he meets your gaze.

“How do you know about the bet?” You ask, forehead creased.

“I’m very smart, I tend to know things.”

“... Jungkook told you.”

“Yeah Jungkook told me.” He laughs. “He waited for me to get home and told me.”

“Why would he do that?” You frown.

“Oh, uh…” he flusters. “He- he just wanted to give me a heads up.”

“Okay… well whatever, I’m not gonna be beaten.” You mumble, picking up your phone and scroll through your recent messages.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Namjoon says under his breath, but you decidedly ignore him.

You find the number you’re looking for and shoot a quick text before locking your phone. You grin at Namjoon as you stand up, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it.

“Gotta go prep, have fun at wo-”

You're cut off by the door of Jungkook’s room opening, and you and Namjoon spin in unison. Out totters a relatively familiar girl, and you recognise her as one of Jungkook’s usual hookups. He walks her past you both to the door, his hand hovering in the small of her back as he leads her out. You move your gaze to Namjoon who looks between the both of you, frowning.

After a brief murmur, the front door shuts and Jungkook saunters back into the room, a small grin on his face. You flick your eyes up to him and see that he’s only wearing a pair of gym shorts, his hair messy and wild. Perspiration still clung to his bare chest, his hair slightly sticking to his forehead. You swallow hard, forcing your eyes away from him.

“Looks like I’m taking an early lead.” He shrugs, bunny teeth on show as he smiles. Your phone buzzes on the counter and you look over at it, a smirk lighting up your face as you look back to a curious Jungkook.

“Well, I think we'll be even before you’ve even got dressed, so don’t get too cocky.”

A groan cuts off his answer, and you both dart your gaze to Namjoon who has his head tilted back, eyes screwed shut.

“Please just… can you both make sure no one gets hurt if you’re actually going through with this?” He sighs, bringing his head back to glare at you both.

“Get hurt? Who’s gonna get hurt?” You ask, but your gut screams that you know. Deep down where you try to ignore, you know.

Jungkook flusters, settling to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes. Sighing again, Namjoon gets to his feet and dumps his cup into the sink before turning to stare at you both one last time.

“You know what I mean. Now, I’m going to work. Please don’t get your bodily fluids all over my apartment.” He tells you both sternly before walking away.

You and Jungkook look at each other for a moment before you buckle under his gaze, grabbing your phone and heading to the bathroom.

“We’re not gonna get hurt, are we?” Jungkook asks quietly, and you spin to face him.

“No- no, why would we? We’ve got no reason to.” You say awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your pajama shorts. “As long as neither of us do anything stupid, we’ll be fine.” You finish with a forced smile, ignoring the voice in the back of your mind telling you that this was dangerously stupid already.

“You’re right. Yeah.” He nods, stepping back. He bumps into the stool behind him and flounders before regaining himself, giving you a small salute before he vanishes to his room.

You stare after him for a moment before you shake your head and walk to the shower.

Taking your time to shave and moisturise so that you were feeling yourself, you finally step out, wrap yourself in a towel and head back to your room. A quick check of your phone tells you he’s almost there, so you slip on a top and some shorts - it’s not like you’ll be wearing them long, anyway.

You faintly hear a knock at the door and you speed out to answer it.

Swinging open the door to see Jimin smiling at you, you can’t help but grin back.

“Hey Y/N.” He smiles, his eyes scrunched as he beams at you.

“Hey, thanks for coming so quickly.” You laugh, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the house and towards your bedroom.

“Well, you know I’m always keen to help you beat Jungkook at something.” He laughs as you shut your door behind him.

“That’s why I can always count on you.” You smirk, pressing him back so that he falls onto the bed. You straddle him, hands pressed gently to his chest. “And please, be as loud as possible.”

— —

“I’m gonna go pee. Then we can talk about your battle plan to defeat Jungkook.” Jimin says gently, smiling at you before he gets out of the bed and pulls on his boxers and jeans.

You wave at him and stretch out on the bed, smug at closing the gap already - and you’d only been awake for three hours.

You sit waiting for Jimin, keen to talk to him about the whole bet with Jungkook. But you waited and waited, until finally you got impatient and got up, throwing on a tee and shorts.

You walk out of your room to find Jimin in the kitchen, head thrown back with laughter as he talks to Jungkook. Both were shirtless, but you felt your face heat up when you tried to avoid staring at Jungkook. You approach them, eyebrows drawn together and an uneasy smile on your lips.

“Hey guys…”

“Oh, Y/N! You didn’t say Jimin was coming over.” Jungkook smiles, fixing you with a bubbly giggle as he watches you approach.

You shrug as you walk to the fridge and pick up the pen, putting your first tally on your scoreboard. You spin back to smile at Jungkook, a surge of excitement rushing through you. He swallows as he looks between you and Jimin, his bubbliness dulling a little.

“So, neck and neck, huh? Don’t expect it to last long.” You wink at him, before flicking your eyes to Jimin.

“Wanna go out tomorrow?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, ignoring Jungkook’s noise of exasperation.

“If you’re going out, I’m coming too!” He yelps.

“No way, not happening! I’m not having you cramp my style.”

“Cramp your style? What are you, sixty?” Jungkook snarks, causing Jimin to stifle a giggle into his hands.

“You’re gonna mess me up! No way.”

“Oh come on, if I do ‘mess you up’ then I’ll void the bet and that’s not gonna happen. So buckle up baby, we’re going out.” Jungkook leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his toned chest, challenging you to try and deny him again.

You look to Jimin and see that he’s set his puppy dog eyes on you. You huff, throwing your hands in the air, and Jungkook grins.

“This is gonna be fun.”

“Whatever nerd, we’ll see who’s gonna be having fun.” You snap, grabbing Jimin by the shoulders and pushing him back to your room before slamming your door shut.

“Chill out Y/N, I’m not gonna take your man.” Jimin giggles, stretching himself out on your bed.

“He’s not my man, you ass.” You hiss, picking his shirt off the floor and launching it at him.

“Well either way, I can’t wait to watch the train wreck happen tomorrow night.”

— —

Night and day passed too quickly.

Namjoon or Jin couldn’t be persuaded to go out with you, citing that they weren’t going to be around ‘childish games of romance’. You elected to ignore what they were trying to say, and simply took your frustrations out by stress texting Jimin all day.

But it couldn’t be held off any longer, and soon you found yourself pressed between sweaty bodies making jerky movements to loud music.

Jungkook had been relatively silent for the whole of your journey, only replying in solemn nods and prolonged staring.

Jimin -who was sick of both of you- ignored the pair of you, practically skipping his way through the club to the bar. He orders a round of shots, passes one to both of you and chucks his down his neck. You blow out your cheeks, forcing yourself to relax.

Jungkook being there wasn’t going to cost you Namjoon’s room. Keeping that in mind, you tip the liquid into your mouth, the burn rippling down your throat as you swallow.

Your eyes flick to Jungkook as he does the same, eyes fluttering shut and lips pulling tight as he forces down the shot.

You forcefully drag your eyes away from a spot of alcohol that escapes his mouth and creeps down his exposed throat, and focus on the crowd.

There were a lot of people in the small club, and your hopes at finding someone were high. Jungkook walks off, mumbling something about the bathroom, and you watch him leave. You turn to look at Jimin, a smile finally slipping onto your face.

“Feeling lucky?” He asks, noting your grin. You shrug your shoulders at him, a twinkle in your eye.

“As long as Jungkook stays out of my way, I’ll be fine.” Your voice is low, and you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand before gently placing it on the bartop.

“Why would he be an issue?” He winks, eyebrow raised.

“He just… gets in my view and I can’t concentrate because his stupid face is in my vision.”

“Sure, and it’s not because you -“

“Shut up, Jimin. I don’t know what you think but you’re wrong.” You snap, eyes narrowing. He simply laughs, holding up his hands in a surrender motion, before his eyes flick over your shoulder.

“Well whatever, I think you’re gonna have company in a minute.” He nods, and you follow his eyes to find a man down the bar looking in your direction.

He’s cute, kinda tall, a little beardy. You give him a shy smile, before turning back to Jimin and winking. He shakes his head, a small giggle passing his lips.

“Give me a signal if you need any help.” He whispers, watching the man walk towards you. You squeeze his arm gently, before turning back to rest on the bar.

After a mere moment, you feel a figure slide next to you, a faint air of expensive cologne filling your senses. You hide your smirk, electing to run a smoothing hand over your hair. The loud music thumps along with your heartbeat, the thrill of the chase lighting your veins on fire.

“Hey.” His deep voice filters in from beside you, and you turn your slightly head to face the man.

“Hi.”

“Would you like a drink?” He asks, bringing his mouth low by your ear.

“Depends if you’re buying or not.” You smirk, meeting his hazel eyes.

“If it means I get your company for the evening, it’s on me.” He tilts his head as he smirks at you, pulling a light laugh from your lips.

“Does that work on all the girls you try it on?”

“I don’t know - will it work on you?” He whispers, his cool breath brushing over the hair by your ear and down your neck.

You lick your lips, letting a hand rest on his arm as you bring you gaze level with his, mere inches away. You were already mentally checking off another mark on the scoreboard, causing a smirk to slip on your face.

Leaning into him and letting your eyes flutter shut, your lips are on the verge of grazing when he’s suddenly ripped out of your space. Your eyes fly open as you search around you, only to find Jungkook pushing the guy through the crowd and out of sight. Shock etches across your face, eyebrows rocketing up as you jaw hangs.

Jungkook stalks back to take the guy’s empty place, fury written across his face as he looks at you. His side is pressed against you in the busy bar but you take a dizzying step back, trying to uncloud your mind. Your stunned stillness fades, replaced by blind rage.

“Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck-“

“I know him, Y/N. He’s a complete asshole.” He fully faces you, bright eyes holding yours in a deadly stare.

“He doesn’t have to be a Nobel Peace Prize winner for me to sleep with him! You’re way out of line!” You shout and he winces at your tone, but he doesn’t falter.

“Trust me, it’s better if he’s not around. I’m trying to help-”

“Are you? It doesn’t look like that from here.” You snap, holding his gaze.

“Believe me, Y/N.” His voice is quiet, and for a moment the storm in your mind clears. But you can’t let him into your head like that, you won’t.

The crowd jostles around you, knocking into you and Jungkook as they try to get to the bar. You’re both pressed together, held in place by unaware figures. But you don’t bend, intent on letting him know how you feel.

His dark eyes examine your face, drawing his lip between his teeth as he lets your words sink under his skin. Your eyes dart about his face, unable to focus. The small freckle that sits just under his mouth, the flare of his nostrils, the way his teeth sink into his lip. It was all him - impossibly Jungkook, and hard to stay angry at. But you wanted to, you needed to.

There’s something electric about him when he looks at you like that. Breathing your air, painted in red and blue lights, surrounded by darkness. It’s heavenly - and too much.

“Stay out of my way, Kook.” Your voice is low, but he hears you loud and clear. With one last withering look, you step away from him and go to find Jimin, his eyes hot against your back.

You deliberate leaving the club completely, Jungkook fully ruining your mood. You can feel him working his way under your skin, and it alarms you that you don’t mind him being there. You shake your head, expelling those thoughts. You’ve got a bet to win, you tell yourself. It shouldn’t be that deep.

Finally, you find Jimin surrounded by a crowd as he dances. They’re cheering over the music, strobe lights illuminating the graceful moves the makes. He laughs as he moves, catching your eyes across the sea of bodies. You smile at him, but his head cocks and he ceases all movement, making a b-line for you. Some of the crowd complain, but he ignores them, stopping before you and placing his hands on your upper arms.

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyebrows creased and plush lips pulled into a thin line.

“Yeah, I’m fi-“

“Do I need to beat that guy up? Where’s Jungkook, we’ll grab him and-“

“No, it’s not the guy that was the problem, it’s Jungkook.” You murmur, eyes shooting away from Jimin.

You find yourself scanning the crowd for him, but not finding him anywhere. You ignore the small pang that hits your chest and instead turning your attention back to Jimin. He has a soft look on his face, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles in your arms.

“So you finally admit it?” He asks softly, barely audible over the music.

“Admit what?”

“... nothing. Come on, let’s get another drink and you can tell me about it.”

With a soft embrace, Jimin steers you to the bar. Pressing through the crowd, you let yourself lean against the wooden bartop, watching but not seeing.

Jimin’s served, and he slides two shots of something clear towards you. You look at him and raise an eyebrow, but he shrugs at you before throwing back his own. You drink one, then two. Wiping your mouth in the back of your hand, you look at him and smile weakly.

“Thanks.”

“So what happened?” He asks, and you take a steadying breath before relaying what went on with Jungkook.

Jimin is silent as you speak, weighing the value of each word. He’s quiet after you’ve finished talking, and you wonder for a minute if he even heard you. But he looks back at you with a sad smile, and suddenly you don’t feel so brave any more.

“You two don’t learn, do you?”  He sighs, shaking his head. Your eyebrows cross as you stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn't, letting the words hang in the air.

And you know. You know what he means, you know how you feel. But thinking any more of Jungkook will never be reciprocated, and ignoring your heart is better than having it broken.

But heartbreak follows you.

You cast your eyes back around the room again. You see someone flick their hair, and you know it’s him, you know it. But moving your eyes around him stops your heart.

Jungkook stands just off the end of the bar, whispering in the ear of a petite brunette. There no playful air about him like there usually was, no thrill of the chase. Determination ripples around him, no sense of ease. In a way, it felt personal.

You blink back a sting in your eyes, turning back to the bar and suck in a deep breath. Jimin looks over his shoulder, spotting what you had been fixated on. He looks back and lays a light hand on your shoulder, but it’s too much.

“Y/N-”

“Excuse me Jimin, I’ve got a bet to win.” You say in a low, dangerous voice, before slipping away from his grip and moving quickly towards the dancefloor.

You let yourself be distracted for a mere moment, letting nothing but music, people and darkness fill your senses. A coldness creeps through your system, your protection. You let your eyes flutter shut, forcing everything but that second away from you.

You’re bumped forwards, and you begin to trip over your feet when a small hand grips your arm and steadies you. You right yourself and turn, only to come face to face with a beautiful, tall blond woman. She looks at you gently, letting her eyes linger on your body.

“Sorry about that.” She smiles, letting her hand linger on your arm.

“Oh, no worries.” You smile at her. She steps away after a prolonged glance, and you bite your lip.

You take a quick look around, eyes immediately darting to where you knew Jungkook was. The girl's hands were pressed to his chest, giggling something excitably in his ear. His expression doesn’t change, but you watch as his hand slides over to her hips.

For once halting moment, his eyes find you in the crowd. It’s fleeting, but you share something that you can’t pin down. He looks pained, guilty.

But he doesn’t push her hands away, and his hand stays rooted to her hips.

You drag your eyes away, your decision for the evening settling in your chest. You briefly make eye contact with Jimin, an unending pity deep in his soulful eyes. You swallow thickly before turning back to the retreating woman, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Wanna dance?” You ask, fake smile slipping onto your lips.

“I’ve been dancing all night, I was gonna head home.” She smirks, and you school your face, another rejection threatening to slice through you.

“Oh-”

“But I could do with some company.” She winks, threading her fingers through yours.

You smile at her and let her lead you towards the bar exit. You look to Jimin, a sad expression on his features. You offer him a blank stare and a small wave, ignoring the flicker of concern in his face.

With an ache in your chest, you flick your eyes to Jungkook - only to meet his. He watches you get pulled by, examining the woman before looking at you. His mouth is parted, his normally sparkling eyes glazed over. The girl he’s with paws at his face, but he doesn't look away from you.

You’re the one to drag your eyes away, trying to erase how her hands looked over him in your mind.

The girl looks back at you and smiles, and you return it, your heart heavy. But you follow her, out of the bar, into a taxi and into her arms.

— —

The next week and a half was painless - purely through the power of ignorance.

You barely saw Jungkook. You spent an entire day with him at one point - but fortunately Namjoon had too many books and lots of furniture to move, so you were barely in each other's presence for long.

But Namjoon was gone, and the two of you were left to haunt the apartment like lonely spectres in his wake.

It wasn’t a total bust though - you’d managed to take the lead in your bet. You were two ahead of Jungkook with eight. Namjoon’s room was in your grasp, and you had planned to go out with Jimin again tonight.

You quietly eyed the whiteboard - Namjoon left it behind saying it had been ‘tainted’. You pull out a carton of juice and pour yourself a glass, trying to delay going into your room.

You knew Jungkook had someone over. You didn’t want to go to your room and hear them, and you wanted them to walk out and see you much less.

Instead you drain your glass and make a grab for your keys - but you had to go to your room and get them from your bag.

Steeling yourself, you make a break for it. You’re almost at your room when his door swings open, and you’re blindsided, your gut wrenching.

“Jeni?” You splutter.

She turns, dressed only in one of Jungkook’s oversized shirts. Her perfect blond hair fell into her precise bob, beautiful features pulled into a look of confusion and disdain.

She places a perfectly manicured hand on her hip whilst the other pulled Jungkook’s door shut. You glare at Jungkook’s ex, your head beating so hard you thought it would burst from your chest.

“What are you doing here?” You growl, letting malice seep into every word.

“Isn’t it obvious?” A spiteful laugh falls from her lips, eyes sizing you up.

“Come back to break his heart again? Or did you get lost on your way back to the swamp?” You snap. She laughs mirthlessly at you.

“Well, Kookie said you weren’t any different. Glad to see nothing’s changed.” You cringe at her nickname for him - it always sounded so cold and calculated when it came from her lips.

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows creased.

Why was he talking about you - to the ex who tore his heart to shreds? You could remember nights where you’d stay up until 5AM to distract him from the pain he felt - as if you could absorb it for him. In some way, you did-

“Oh Y/N, dense as ever, and hopelessly in l-”

“Shut up Jeni. I know it uses up a lot of brain cells for you to form words, so you can just stop.”

You brush past her, making sure to knock her as you walk by. She squeaks at the impact, but you don’t feel anything but empty.

“It was good to see you. You’ll be seeing more of me soon enough.” You can hear the smile in her voice but you ignore her, bursting into your room and slamming the door behind you.

Pacing the room, your mind reels and your stomach churns.

Jeni being here had changed things. Jungkook was left shattered by her, why would he bring her back into his life? Even to win a bet, that was dumb.

But her being here was bringing to a head something you hadn’t wanted to admit to yourself - how you truly felt about Jungkook.

Because you realised if she is here, you can’t be. Him sleeping with people was one thing, but a relationship, emotions and love with someone else? That wasn’t something you could watch again - it broke your heart enough the first time around.

Your plans to leave the house abandoned, you sit on your bed and pull out your headphones, placing them tightly in your ear before blasting the first song you could find.

When the roar of your headphones was the only thing to fill your senses, you lay back on your bed and curl on your side, letting the music take you some place that wasn’t here, and that didn’t hurt.

Only an hour or so later, you were rudely woken by someone shaking your shoulders.

Groggily you snapped the earbuds out of your ears, and rolled on your back to see a blurry Jimin standing above you.

“Hey.” He says gently, hand resting on your arm.

“Hey.” You whisper back, sleepily rubbing your eyes.

“You doing alright?” He asks softly, big doe eyes examining your face. You nod and sit up, letting the sleep work its way out of your system.  

“Come on, get dressed. We’re getting out of this damn apartment.” He orders, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. You didn’t argue - you didn’t want to.

“You’ve seen Jeni, then?” You ask, walking to your wardrobe and finding anything to pull on.

“Yeah. Stupid boy…” he sighs, the last part quiet but you hear it all the same.

You finish getting dressed on autopilot, throwing on a quick layer of light make-up before you're ready. Grabbing your purse and phone and slipping on your shoes, you nod at Jimin.

He offers you a small smile before taking your hand in his and leading you both out of your bedroom. He squeezes your hand lightly, and your heart swells at the support from your friend. He was a lighthouse through the fog of all the bullshit you felt.

You hear her voice in the kitchen and tense, but Jimin runs a soothing thumb across your knuckles, and you shudder in a breath.

Both of you walk past the kitchen and see Jungkook making coffee, a pained expression on his face as he half listens to Jeni speak. At the sound of you and Jimin walking by his head snaps up, bright eyes fixed on you.

You feel your face heat up as you make eye contact, but Jimin continues to pull you away. Jungkook’s eyes snap to your locked hands, before back to you, his lips parting.

“Where are you going?” Jeni asks, obviously annoyed at Jungkook’s distraction.

“Out.” Jimin snaps, pushing you to the door.

You open it and step out, heaving a heavy breath of air. Jimin shuts the door behind you and throws an easy arm around your shoulder.

“We haven’t got to go out if you don’t want. We can go for a walk or something.”

“No, no it’s okay. I need something loud. And alcohol. Definitely alcohol.” You sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, grateful for the support.

An hour later, you find yourself gulping down your sixth - seventh? - shot of the night, and your third glass of a bright blue liquid that was definitely strong but tasted too sweet for you to care.

The bar wasn’t too busy, it being a weeknight, but there was enough people there to keep it interesting.

Loud pop music filled the room, bouncing off the dark walls. You bopped along to the beat, the haze of drunkenness clouding your vision. You were numb, comfortably so.

Jimin had disappeared a little while ago, phone pressed to his ear - he said he was going to the bathroom, and for you to stay put. He’d been trying to tamper down your behaviour all evening, holding back too many shots and chasing off anyone who approached. But still you had managed to get a drink or two bought for you and gulped it down without him catching you in time. However you had gotten bored waiting and being babied, and drunkenly wandered off.

The bet still rattled around in your head, which caused you to flirt with everyone you came across. The still rational part of you screamed - your heart wasn’t in it, not any more. But your clouded brain wouldn’t see past it, and instead you let yourself be pressed against strangers, their hot breath rolling across your face as you tried your luck.

With your most recent attempt telling you that he’ll come find you later in the night, you gave him a sloppy wink before staggering away.

You press yourself against the bar, sloppily propping your head on your hand. The bartender places a small glass of water in front of you and you smile your thanks at him, pulling it to your lips and lightly sipping.  

The look in his eye catches you off guard - pity. Your smile falters, your drunken haze shattering around you. You gulp down the rest of the water and in a moment of clarity, realise you should find Jimin. You shouldn’t be here any more.

Your turn from the bar a little too fast, causing yourself to stumble. A pair of hands catch you, and prop you back up against the bar.

You look up at the man and thank him, and he smirks down at you. His brown choppy hair frames his face sharply, his lips drawn tightly into a smile.

“You heading somewhere in a hurry?” He asks, and you offer a polite smile.

“I’m- I’m” you pause to hiccup, “gonna find my friend. ‘Scuse me.”

“Woah, what’s the rush? I’m sure your friend will be here in a minute.” He takes hold of your wrist, pinning you in place. You try and snap your hand out of his hold, but his fingers are an iron grip.

“Let me g-go.”

“Don’t you wanna stay and chat? You’ve been hitting on everyone here, why not me babe?” He laughs, but his voice has an edge to it, an underlying bite.

“I’m going home… asshole. Getoffme-”

“Listen, slut-”

“Let go of me or I’ll scream.” You grind out, rage and fear bubbling in your chest. The man simply laughs, and you see red.

You dig your nails into his hand around your wrist, and he releases your hand with a grunt. You snap your hand away and begin to scramble from him, but he grabs your upper arm and slams you back against him.

“Isn’t this nice? Now-”

Just as suddenly as you’re pulled against the guy, you’re pulled away into someone’s chest.

“Jimin, I’ve got her!” The shout rumbles from the chest you’re against. You flick your eyes up to the owner of it, only to have the air sucked out of your lungs.

“Kook?” You whisper, his wide eyes meeting yours, a softness touching each corner of his face.

“Bro what the fu-” the man starts, snapping Jungkook gaze from you.

Jungkook wraps a protective arm around your waist, holding you to his side. Rage fills his face, his teeth gritted as he stares at the man.

“I’m not your ‘bro’. You’re disgusting.” Jungkook spits, steering you away from the guy.

You let out a breath, fingers gripping tightly into the material of his shirt. Jimin finally finds you, rushing to you and cupping your face in his hands. Jungkook tenses a little under you, but you don’t let him go.

Jungkook explains what just happened, and Jimin looks between the two of you and towards the man you were just with.

“Get her home, Jungkook. I’m going to have a little chat with our friend.” Jimin almost growls, letting his hands drop from your face.

“Be careful Jimin.” Jungkook offers quietly, but Jimin shakes his head.

“Just get her home.”

With a final nod, you’re walked out through the door of the bar and out into the darkened street. The wall of fresh air makes your head spin, and you cling to Jungkook for support.

You let him lead you down the street as he waits for an uber, his arms still snugly around your middle.  

“Why are you here, Kook?” You slur, lifting your lidded eyes to his face. His eyes stay firmly glued to his phone.

“Jimin called. Said you needed me, so here I am.”

“Yeah, but why are you here?”

His eyes flicker to you just for a second, a glimmer of something flashing across his wide eyes.

“Because… I care about you. Even if you think I don't. And if I left you to fend for yourself, Namjoon would castrate me.”

“I-I can handle myself. I don’t need you… stepping in like some knight in shining armour-”

“I know.” He murmurs, interrupting your rambling tirade. “But I want to.”

Your words die in your throat as you look at him. He’s aggressively avoiding your eyes, instead searching the roads.

It’s overwhelming, the need to tell him the depth of your feelings. You know it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins, but it’s deeper than that. And sober you would hate the drunken delivery, but you need to lighten your heart, your soul.

“Kook-“

You’re stopped by a car pulling up beside you. Jungkook confirms with the driver through the window about his pick up before reaches for the door, helping you in.

You reluctantly disentangle from him and climb clumsily into the car. Jungkook shuts the door behind you, and appears a moment later getting into the other side. As soon as the door shuts the car moves away, your mind spinning.

The ride’s quiet, but your eyes never leave him. You can't tell if it's the alcohol or not, but you can't stop. After a moment, he turns his gaze on to you, his lip between his teeth.  

“Why don’t you call me that more often?”

“... what?”

“Kook.” He says softly, and you feel your heart begin to thump wildly in your chest.

“I dunno, it just happens.” You shrug, but the weight of his question sits on your chest. He was your Kook, you wanted to scream. Not just Jungkook. Kook.

The rest of the ride is quiet. And despite all your anger and hurt, you slide against him and rest your head on his shoulder, lacing your fingers with his. You couldn’t stop yourself, but it felt right through your haze.

Too soon, the car pulls in front of your apartment block. Jungkook throws open the door and slides out, but keeps his hand clasped with yours. You follow him out on wobbly feet and close the door behind you.

You fight to keep your mind blank as he leads you back up to your apartment, only pausing to unlock your front door.

“Is, uh… is that devil bitch still here?” You whisper, pressing to Jungkook’s side. He nearly drops his keys as he looks at you, eyes wide.

“Jeni? No, no. She finally left when Jimin called.” He sighed, at last getting the door open.

You stumble in, momentarily forgetting your hands were linked and dragging Jungkook with you.

He says nothing, simply kicking the door shut behind him as you head straight for the sofa, pulling him down beside you.

The only light came from the windows, dewy street lights strobing the room. Shadows fall across his face, soft, and so close.

His lips part as he watches you, eyes wide. You don’t know how long you sit there for, but it felt like an eternity - and it was perfect. You could spend a lifetime looking at him, seeing him.

He forces his mouth shut and swallows before disentangling your hands. You make a noise of protest, but he holds a finger up.

He hurries to his feet and disappears, only to emerge a moment later, a glass of water in his hands. He offers it to you and you accept gratefully, gulping the cool liquid down.

You place the glass carefully back on the table before settling back onto the chair, head falling to his shoulder.

It couldn’t be helped - the neediness that was trying to claw its way from your chest. You wanted nothing more than for him to consume you, to hold you, to kiss you. It felt so amplified in the moment.

But you couldn’t - how could you? You had to live together, you shared the same friends. Would he ever feel the same? You weren’t like his exes, you weren’t like anything he knew.

You feel his weight shift, and your heart thuds as he leans his head on yours, fingers lacing once again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks, his voice so soft you barely hear it above the roaring in your head.

“I… yeah. Tired.” You mentally kick yourself, chickening out of your true feeling and leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“You should go to bed-“

“No! I mean… just a minute longer. S’nice.” You murmur, tracing your thumb across his pink knuckles. He lets out a soft sigh, and you feel him relax beneath you.  

You realise as you drift off that you can’t do it - the bet, Jeni, any of it. It was heading to something you didn’t want, a trial you weren't prepared to face.

“Stupid.” You mumble aloud. Jungkook hums at you but you don’t hear as you quickly drift off, the heat radiating from him to you being the only thing that matters.

— —

There was only four days of the bet left.

When you had woken the morning after your night out, you were on the couch alone. You were in the apartment alone. You shifted, only to find a blanket draped over you and the blinds pulled to block out any unwanted light in your fragile state. A fresh glass of water sat on the small coffee table in front of you, and you swallow thickly.

You remembered the night in gory detail, but the essence remained true enough - the bet was over for you. You couldn’t do it anymore, no bedroom was worth it.

And so the next few days had passed uneventfully, slowly and totally alone. You hadn’t seen Jungkook at all since that night, but a glance at the board on the fridge told you that he hadn’t stopped the bet - in fact he’d overtaken you. The wonky lines under his name sliced through you, a chill settling in your chest.

It had begun to feel claustrophobic in the apartment, a constant pressing on your mind and heart. Even though you hadn’t seen Jungkook, knowing he was around was enough. You barely left your room, conscious about running into him.

You waited until he had left for work before you emerged from your room, keen on devouring anything in your path. You’re midway through rummaging in the fridge when a knock raps quickly at your door.

You hesitate for a moment, waiting to see if they would leave. When the knocking continues, however, you decide to answer. Scraping your hair back neatly as you approach the door, you swing it open-

Only to be met with Jeni.

“What?”

“Charming. Is Kookie here? He’s not replying to my texts or calls.”

“Work.” You sigh, ignoring the way she waves her expensive phone inches from your face.

“Hm. Well, maybe I’ll wait for him to come back- we’re talking again, you know.” She smirks at you, smugness radiating off of her as her eyes scan your face for the slightest hint of weakness.

You let nothing slip despite the punch you feel in your gut. You swallow, trying to wet your drying throat.

“Oh really? I didn’t know gargoyles were able to converse. Congrats for your species.” You say, the fakest smile you could mister plastered on your face.

“You’re just jealous, Y/N. It’s obvious.”

“Are you done? I’m bored of this conversation.” You snap, leaning awkwardly against the door.

“You know what, I will wait for Koo-“

“Yeah, I’m gonna be late, I left my keycard at home- oh.” Comes a voice from down the corridor, and you lean out to see Jungkook stopped in his tracks, his eyes rapidly flicking between you and Jeni. He had his phone pressed to his ear, dressed impeccably in his suit and tie, perfectly pressed trousers tailored to his figure. You’d seen him in what he wears for work many times, but it never failed to knock the breath from your lungs.

“Kookie!” Jeni squeaks, fixing him with a wide smile.

“I’ll be in when I can. Bye.” He deadpans into his phone, not waiting for a reply before he ends the call and pockets the device. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls-”

“Because I told you I wasn’t going to.” Jungkook’s voice is low, dangerously low, but his eyes are deadlier.

“Jungkook, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry you’ve misunderstood me again Jeni, but I told you from the start that nothing would happen between us again. I won’t let you hurt me a second time around.”

The stunned expression on her face is almost laughable, but you do feel a slight tinge of pity for her. It doesn’t last long though. She pulls her expression into a scowl, sneering at him. She casts a sharp glance at you before glaring back at him.

“Whatever Kookie. You’ll come crawling back to me, they always do. Let me know how this all works out.” a spiteful laugh pulls from her lips, flicking a finger between you and Jungkook.

Your eyebrows shoot up as she walks away, letting her hand trace across his bicep as she walks by. You watch the strain on his face as he suppresses a shiver, refusing to move until she was finally gone.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softened as he looks at you. You nod, unable to find your voice.

Panic flushes through you as you step back, ducking back through the door and into the apartment. The gentleness that had crept into his face when he looked at you was too much, it was what you were trying to hide from. You were nearly at your room when his voice hits you, deep, and pained.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You breathe in deeply, steeling yourself. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Jungkook had never liked confrontation, so you were banking on him ignoring the tensions that hangs in the air. You just wanted enough time to forget. To get over him.

“No, I haven-”

“Yes you have, Y/N. What have I done?”

You didn’t want to look back at him. You couldn’t bear to see the galaxy in his eyes. But he deserved a reason. And maybe, finally, once he knew you could breathe a little. There was no glimmer of hope that he’d return the feelings, but at least you could get some space. But getting that would hurt too.

What a fucking mess.

Slowly, you turn on your heels and walk back to the kitchen to meet him. He stands in the doorway, eyes fixed on you. You take a steadying breath, stamping down the fear that begins to rise in your throat.

“You haven’t done anything.”

“There must be something. I don’t want to upset you, Y/N. Talk to me.” He takes a step towards you but you take a step back.

“It’s me, Kook.”

“What? Y/N I’m confu-”

“I like you. Okay? I really like you. Fuck, I don’t want to say the ‘L’ word but...I can’t do it any more.” Your voice shakes and your eyes sting, but you hold strong. His eyes widen as he drags his eyes away from you, and appealing to the dark irony within you, his eyes fix on your scoreboard sitting glaringly on the fridge.

There were your words, your heart, head and hopes all laid out for him.

But he just stares at you. Silently, suffocatingly. Time stretched, and the longer it went on, the blacker your heart felt.

“Jungkook?”

Nothing.

“Please?” You croak, your voice thick.

“Y/N. I don’t know what to say.”

“Spare my feelings, Kook. Just say something.”

His eyes finally meet yours. They’re wide, tainted with a softness that made your chest hurt.

“The ‘L’ word?” He asks, eyebrows pulled together, fingers nervously twitching by his side.

“Love, Jungkook. I love…” But you can’t finish the sentence - not with the way he’s looking at you.

“Why do you love me?” he takes another step forward, eyes desperately searching for an answer in your face.

“I-I don’t know. It just crept up on me. I can’t stop. Believe me, I would if I could.”

“But- but why would you want to?” You frown at him. His words come from a much more innocent place than you imagined, but it stirred up so many feelings inside of you. You chose to focus on anger.

“Because I can’t watch you love other people that aren’t me, Kook. I can’t have my heart broken any more. I don’t want to hurt.”

He steps forward, hand reaching out to hold yours. He fills your senses, and you can’t think straight. Everything becomes him, and as much as you don’t want him to leave, he’s too much.

You step back from him, letting your hand slip from his. His mouth parts as he watches you, the lost expression you’re so used to creeping back onto his face.

“I- I can’t. You’re everything, Jungkook. I can’t let you break my heart again, watching you fall for people who I can’t be.” You walk back slowly, eyes flicking everywhere but him. “I’m gonna go stay with Joon and Jin, and find somewhere else to live-”

“Y/N-”

“It’ll be better for both of us-”

“Y/N!”

“Kook?!”

“I don’t want you to leave me.”

His eyes are wide, but determination seeps through him, his unending need to see things through permeating his very being.

“I- what?” You blurt.

He strides the distance between you in a few easy steps, his hands finding your face before he crashes his lips onto yours, desperate for you to understand just how he feels.

You tense under him, your heart thudding so loudly in your chest you’re sure he could hear it.

But your body lets him in, finally, totally and completely. Your hands knot around his neck, yout eyes fluttering shut as you finally give in to your heart.

His hands gently caress your cheeks as he kisses you, fiercely parallelled by how hard he pressed his lips on yours, small sighs escaping him.

You’re the first to pull back, your arms still pressed against his neck as you explored his face, freely and unashamed. His thumbs drag across your cheek, the universe swimming around you both.

“I… may ‘L’ word you too.” He whispers, a goofy bunny smile sliding onto his face. He tucks his face into his chest, almost as if he was trying to hide.

All the pain and confusion seemed to melt at his words. The weeks, the months, you spent aching for something you didn’t know.

“You do? But what about Jeni?” You ask, and his smile turns sheepish as he looks up at you.

“Oh..uh, yeah. I kinda, was a little, maybe bitter. Jealous. Possibly.” A blush creeps along his face, and it unfurls something hot in the pit of your stomach.

“Bitter about what?” You raise an eyebrow, and his next words are barely above a rushed whisper.

“ParkJimin-”

“What?

“Park Jimin!” He yelps, before hiding his face in your arms.

“Jimin? What’s he got- oh. You were jealous of me and Jimin? Why?”

“Look, I know it’s dumb-”

“It is, yeah.”

“-but I couldn’t help it. You two had some… thing, and you hang out all the time. I just… got caught up in it and the bet. Knowing you’d been with him first and had slept with more than me… it just got to my head.”

“But Jeni…”

“Yeah I know, I wasn’t thinking straight. But she was here, and all I could think about was you.”

The admission stunned you, your jaw dropping.

“So why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Why didn’t you?” He asks quickly, and you feet heat creep across your face.

“Okay, touché. We’re both stupid.”

“Yeah. But not any more.” A smile slides on to his lips, and you mirror him.

“I doubt that.”

He chuckles as he looks at you, bright eyes meeting yours. He brings you forward once again, pressing his lips to yours. It’s softer this time, slower. Something that had been worth waiting for.

You pull back from him, placing your hands on his chest and push him back before you fall in too deep.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” You ask, your voice croaking.

His eyebrows knit as he looks at you, kiss-reddened lips pulled into a pout. But then an easy smile slips onto his face. It shines so bright it felt like you’d been living in shadows your whole life.

“I’ve waited long enough for this. They can have a day without me.”

You smirk, the fire inside you burning as you finally, finally have Jungkook where you wanted him. And you weren’t going to pass this up, not for anything ever again.

You back him against the wall to kiss along his angular jaw and down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly at your ministrations.

You slide the jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before you start to undo the buttons on his shirt.

You remove your lips from his neck to watch the shirt slip from his body, the fine fabric rippling off his supple skin. You let your finger drag across his bare chest, excitement bubbling in your chest at finally being able to touch him.  

Meeting his eyes you let one hand slip to his belt, slowly unbuckling it. You let your other hand slip into his pocket, pulling out his phone and handing it to him.

“Call your office.”

He takes the phone tentatively from you, confusion crossing his face. But he does as he’s told, scrolling through his call history, eyes fixed on you.

You wait patiently for his call to go through, your fingers subtly undoing the button on his trousers. Finally his call gets picked up, and you prepare to spring into action.

“Oh hey, it’s Jungkook.”

At his words you rip his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, take his girthy cock in your hand stroke him quickly to his full hardness. Jungkook’s eyes bug out of his head, jaw hanging open as he watches you.  

Y-yea I’m not, oh go-“ he slams his mouth shut, taking a steadying breath as your hand twists around his tip.

“I’m not gonna make it in!” He rushes, heaving a relieved breath.

You can hear them ask why, and hiding your smirk, you wait for him to start replying.

“Oh, uh, my apartment, it’s-“

You take him in your mouth as far as you can, lips wrapping around his cock and pressing your tongue against his underside, dragging off slowly with a pop before taking him again.

“Fuc- f - flooded! It’s flooded. Shit.” He pants, his free hand weaving into your hair as he stares down at you, bunny teeth sunk into his lip.

You twist your hand around his base and you bob up and down on his cock, heady at the precum that oozes into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m f-f-fine. Gotta go!” He yells down the phone before ending the call and throwing it at the kitchen counter.

He lets out a juddering moan, letting both his hands knot into your hair.

“You’re the fucking worst.” He pants, hips rolling off the wall.  

You hum onto his cock, swirling your tongue around him. With each swipe, his hands on your hair pull tighter, the tingling in your scalp that sets you on fire.

You feel him throb in your mouth, and despite the tears that spring to your eyes each time his hips stutter him further down your throat, you can’t take your eyes off him. Breathless, wide eyes watching you take him in, bare chest rapidly rising and falling.

He cries out, quickly but carefully sliding you off his length, the tip oozy and red.

“Not yet. Not yet.” He croaks, before pulling you to your feet.

He walks you backwards into your kitchen counter, before turning you and pinning you against the cool granite.

He leans over you, lips pressed to the shell of your ear as he slides his hands down your body.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He breathes in your ear, and you shiver beneath him.

“You better get on with it.” You murmur, circling your ass into his crotch.

He groans, and furiously yanks down your track pants and panties. He stands back from you to examine you as you sit there, totally exposed to him.

“Kook…” you groan, the cool air meeting your soaking slit.

He says nothing, and you can’t feel him around you. Confusion creeping in, you move to turn around when you feel his tongue lick from your clit all the way along your dripping core.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry - was admiring the view.”

You squeal as your fingers clench on the counter, his hands moving to grab your ass cheeks. His fingers knead in as he works his tongue, catching just the edge of your clit before he swipes up. He’s perched behind you, on his knees with his face buried in your pussy. The reality of it all makes your face heat, so you lay it back on the counter to cool off.

He only kitten licks, never enough pressure to make your eyes roll back but too good to stop. A light suck on your clit, a fast flick all the way up to you asshole, never anything with substance. Every time you try to roll your hips back for more friction his hands would hold you down, pinned and bent over the counter.

“That feel good baby?” There was a hint of genuineness in his voice, vulnerability that made your heart quiver. And your-

“Jungkook…” you moan, toes curling as he blows cool air across your dripping slit. You were too turned on for his games.

“Not’ Jungkook’.” He whispers, his hand sliding down to run a feather light touch over your throbbing core.

“Wh… what?” It’s more of a moan than a question, but he delivers a light slap across your pussy and you yelp in surprise.

“Call me the other name. The one I like.”

Another quick kitten lick has your hips rolling, the teasing pushing you too far.

“Brat.” Another slap, this time a little harder.

“What was that, Y/N? I didn’t hear you properly.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and as much as you want to turn around and fight him, you want his mouth on you so much more.

“Kook, just eat my fucking pussy already.” You growl. He gives you a small giggle before he obeys.

He begins to eat you out like a man starved, licking fat strips up your length and rolling his tongue across your clit. He groans as he works, fingers kneading into your ass cheeks as he tastes you.

You were practically dripping, Jungkook’s tongue expertly hitting your clit in every way to make you moan.  

He ghosts a finger across your ass, bringing it to your clit to replace his mouth. His mouth moves higher, moving to press just inside your walls. A cry leaves your lips, his finger coating with your wetness they swipe quicker and quicker over your clit.

The tip of his tongue impales you, his moans vibrating you and sending your mind reeling. Your clit throbs beneath his touch, sending you hurtling to your orgasm.

“Jungkook, fuck…”

“Hmm?” He hums, and you groan at his petulance.

“Sorry… brat.” You smirk, only to have him fully pull away at you just as you were at your peak. The absence makes you ache with need, whiney and desperate.

“Jungkook!”

Another slap lands on your pussy and you squeal, the heat of his hand leaving you dripping as the cool air rushed in to replace it.

“Who’s the brat now?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Kook, please!” you shout.

With an incredibly unsubtle laugh, his fingers fly back to your clit, circling faster than before. His tongue seeks you out, pushing inside and letting your wetness coat him.

A cry escapes you as you begin to cum, twitching and bent over the countertop. Jungkook coaxes you through it, whimpers erupting from his throat. He pulls away from you once your gyrating stops, hand gently tracing along your sensitive slit.

On shaky legs he turns you, smiling at your flushed expression and blown out eyes. His eyes scrunch as he pulls you in for a kiss, quick and sloppy, the taste of you fresh in his tongue.

With gentle hands, he hoists you from your ass, settling you on the counter. He comes back to kiss you again, body pressed against you. And despite how tender he was being and how it made your heart clench in your chest, you needed him.

Sliding your hand between your bodies, you take a hold of his cock and begin to rub him up and down your wet slit. His face scrunches, the feeling of you coating him rocking him to his core.

He grabs hold of your hip and places a hand over yours so that you begin to guide him inside of you together. He pushes in slow, the drag of his girthy length inside you sends your head flying back. He frowns as she concentrates, finally bottoming out inside you.

He pulls slowly back out before driving home, the sensation making you both moan.

Pure euphoria is written across his face, an infectious happiness that you find yourself wanting to bask in forever.

You move to meet him, the cool surface beneath you biting into your hot skin. His fingers knit into the bottom of your shirt before tugging at it, pulling it up and off you, His eyes shoot to your bare chest, a groan leaving his lips.

He surges forward, lips latching to your nipple, but his hips never missing a beat as he thrusts deeply into you. A guttural moan of his name leaves your lips.

His tongue swirls over your stiff nipple, the bud aching under his touch. You lean back against the counter, toes curling as you wrap your legs around him.

He’s pushed up on his toes, trying other angles to be able to reach inside you properly without leaving your chest, but he struggles. A whine leaves him as he slides off your breast with a pop, his fingers pressed against your back.

“What’s the matter Kook,” you moan, blurry eyes focusing on him as he drags back out of you. “Can’t reach me?”

A shadow passes his face, a challenge he can’t refuse. Gripping you around the waist, he slides you off the counter, still fully seated inside you.

With your legs wrapped around him, he carries you to the sofa, a smirk on his face. Lowering you both down, his eyes fix back on yours, pressing you into the couch beneath him. With a quick peck, he’s pulling back out of you again and pushing back in, his hips picking back up speed as he pounds you into the sofa.

You wrap your legs around him for support, his forehead coming to rest on yours. You wind your fingers in his hair, holding onto the strands for stability as Jungkook rocks into you. His brow creases in concentration, small gasps and murmurs falling from his lips.

He hits your soft spot inside of you with the drag of his cock and your vision goes blurry. Your fingers tighten in his hair, the pressure making him hiss.

In the blink of an eye he takes hold of your wrists and pins them above your head and you whine, a smirk clear on his face.

“What’s the matter, Y/N, can’t handle it?”

You gasp, rolling your hips particularly viciously at him and clenching as hard as you can. His hips stutter for a moment as he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, catching his breath.

“Do that again and this is gonna be over very quick.” he pants, and a wave of pride fills you.

“What, this?” You whisper into his ear, rolling your hips and clenching down again on his cock that sat deep inside you.

He picks his head up and kisses your roughly, fingers digging into your wrists. Your hips still, Jungkook sat inside while you enjoy the moment for what it is. He finally releases you and smiles, sparkling eyes and bunny teeth. And all yours.

His hips begin to move again, working you both back towards the fast pace he drilled into you before. You hook your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer to you with every thrust.

He collects both of your wrists in one hand above his head and brings his hand down your arm, fingertips tracing along your skin to your face. He thumbs over your jaw before bringing his hand down to your throat, fingertips ghosting on the delicate skin there.

You suck in a deep breath, eyes latching on his above you, perspiration sticking his hair to his forehead as he smirks down at you.

His hand slides off your throat, and trails down your body to reach between your legs - but not before stopping for a light flick of your nipple on the way down. His finger drag across your clit drawing a moan from you. Your hands twitched in his grip, desperate to feel him. Your hips begin to roll, The pressure inside you mounting.

“Kook, close…”

“Let go for me baby.” He whispers, before pressing his lips against yours.

You manage to snap one of your wrists from his grip, and bring your hand down to twist your fingers in his hair, kissing him back deeply.

A few more circles of your clit and you come undone, Your body juddering beneath Jungkook’s strokes as you see stars. You clench uncontrollably on him, the motion tipping Jungkook over the edge with you.

He cries out against your lips, hips stuttering as he comes inside you. You both ride the sensation out until he lets himself collapse on you, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

He takes a moment for his hips to stop their ministrations, his hot breath fanning against your chest. Finally he lifts his head up and smiles down at you, his nose scrunching at the motion. You smile back at him, totally lost in his eyes.

Sitting back, he pulls himself out of you, stopping to watch his cum drip out of your pussy. Entranced, he runs his fingers along your sensitive clit, your body twitching under his touch.

Gathering up some of the spill, Jungkook slides a finger inside you, pushing it back in.

You immediately clench down on his fingers, your core oversensitive but still completely responsive to him. His fingers build up speed, jackhammering his come back inside of you, his fingers crooked so that they brushed your g- spot with each move.

“Kook, my god!” you yelp, hands curling into the cushions beneath you. Your hips gyrate at the pressure. Despite the sensitivity and the sting, the waves of pleasure that washed through you couldn’t be stopped.

“What was that?” He snarks, before flicking his finger over your clit at lightning speed.

Your orgasm breaks over you, your hips thrusting off the chair as his fingers work, a strangled cry escaping your throat. He only stops when your tired body begins to slow, sliding his fingers out with a smirk on his face.

Once your unfocused eyes finally zero in on his he smiles at you before sticking his finger in his mouth, sucking them clean. A low moan emits from your throat.

“Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” He mumbles, taking your hand and pulling you up. He gently wraps an arm around your waist and flops back on the couch, settling you on his chest.

You sit in silence for just a moment, letting the reality settle into your skin. Finally you rest your chin on his chest, and stare up at him with a smile on your face.

“I told you I could give you an orgasm or three.” He smirks and your sigh, planting your face into his skin. He laughs, the light rumble from his chest shaking you, squeezing your heart tighter.

“You’re the worst. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Well I know why I like you.” He whispers, and you pick your head back up to look at him, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

A small smile slips onto your face, your heart thudding wildly in your chest as you stare up at him. You bring your hand to brush over his jaw, before stretching up and pressing your lips softly against his own.

You release him and open your eyes, his bright eyes fixed on yours. His hand moves to rest in your hair, the strands woven around his fingers.

“So, do I get Namjoon’s room?”

“Kook! No way-”

“Come on, baby. I kinda did win!”

“You can’t ‘baby’ me! I was in the lead and gave up. If I kept on pace then I definitely would have won.”

“Not fair.” He huffs, but a small smirk turns the corner of his mouth. “How about another bet? First to cum wins.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your hand smooth down from his jaw to trace across his chest.

“Screw it, be prepared to lose..”

He smiles, leaning forward and pressing his smiling lips against yours. He pulls back to press his forehead against yours, nose scrunched.

“If I’m still yours after, then this is one competition I don’t mind losing.” His whispered words clench in your chest and you giggle, despite yourself.

“You will be, Kook. But I’m still gonna win.”

#btswriterscollective #btssmutclub #btsbookclub #smutcentralnet #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts reader insert #bts x you #bts x reader #bts fic #heartbreak trials #my writing

[justdyingslowly]

1. Name justdyingslowly obviously come on

2. Nationality Australian

3. Age 22

4. Birthday nnnah dont feel like it

5. Zodiac sign (or your primal zodiac sign) Libra/Scorpio cusp

6. Gender wamon

7. Sexuality very very hetero

8. Your looks (add a picture or describe yourself) androgenous

9. What do you/did you study? Psychology (focus on sexology) and art.

10. What’s your current job like?/What job would you like to have? I am disabled you think I can work ha sexologist would be awesome. When I was a kid I wanted to be a fireman but Australias always burning

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11. Your birth order head first

12. How many siblings do you have? 1

13. Do you have good relations with your family? yeah dads finally out of his abusive relationship, nearing age 70 and his emotions and his sexuality are finally opening up for the first time and that makes me SO happy.

14. How many friends do you have? what kind of fucked up question is this.

15. Your relationship status relationshipped. Fiance? got the marriage papers in a drawer somewhere with the car rego but can’t be fucked filling them?

16. What do you look for in a SO? empathetic, mature, calm. Always open to discussion. Prefers to be blunt rather than secretive. Emotional age over 14 (incredibly fucking rare apparently). Puts an importance on context and understanding other views above all else.

17. Do you have a crush? Hellll yeah Crush on my partner and got a crush on a mutual friend of ours who don’t even know hes cute af hehe one day partners gonna accidentally spill the beans and embarrass me coz hes shit with secrets RIP me.

18. When did you have your first kiss? You think I can remember this bullshit? Its not that big a deal

19. Do you prefer serious and meaningful relationships or casual dating/one night stands? One night stand sex almost exclusively sucks. Just. SUCKS. Because neither of you know what the other likes and it ends up being an awkward mix of trying to please yourself while trying to also be considerate.

20. What are your deal breakers? Plugging your ears to anything that feels gross, uncomfortable or disagrees with you. How can you grow as a person without introspection? How can you mold what you think and believe without taking in other arguments and comparing them to your beliefs to see how they stack up? Its pathetic.

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21. How was your day? cute mutual friend had a fall this morning and were both worried about him. His back is bad and he’s getting a little older, he can’t be getting dizzy and having falls like that. other than that im anxious about seeing my gastro. He’s lovely but... specialists are specialists. Good at knowing what they know but not always great at listening.

22. Favourite food & drink you think im allowed to eat or drink? water and... foods a touchy subject.

23. What position do you sleep in? Usually on my side with a body pillow to grip so I don’t end up choking my partner in his sleep.

24. What was your last dream about? uuhhh...going to italy and being unable to get into this tiny basket boat properly.

25. Your fears does PTSD to medical shit count haha

26. Your dreams ... going to italy and being unable to get into a tiny basket boat thingy?

27. Your goals - get some sort of diagnosis eventually. Its been 3 years of trying and im tired. - get back to studying art part time for my bachelors. - pass JLPT N3. - go back to university for psychology. - do the dishes when I get home.

28. Any pets? two budgies. we also take care of any orphaned or injured birds.

29. What are your hobbies? feeling nauseous drawing writing a little bit im making a little gameboy game in C atm too

30. Any cool places in your area? i live next to a national park with waterfalls and koalas and emus and stuff

31. What was your last awkward situation? mutual friend made a comment on his chest i playfully smacked it (related to the comment) it was surprisingly hard “O-oh wow, thats... I didnt expect that” my partner laughed at me. it was awful.

32. What is your last regret? getting embarrassed at friends pecs stop making me think about it 33. Language/s you can speak english. N4 Japanese.

34. Do you believe in astrological stuff? (Zodiac, tarot, etc.) of course not what the fuck

35. Have any quirks? Quirkless. I do wiggle when im happy though apparently.

36. Your pet peeves open doors.

37. Ideal vacation spend a months chilling in an old japanese house in autumn hokkaido oooooof that sounds nice

38. Any scars? internal? yes

39. What does your last text message say? peepee poopoo ustinky

40. Last 5 things from your search history how do i find this

41. What’s your [device] background? Sam Porter Bridges walkin around Sam Porter Bridges cuddling BB-28 Louise while he sleeps my chicken

42. What do you daydream about? all might

43. Describe your dream home an old japanese house in autumn hokkaido oooooof that sounds nice

44. What’s your religion/Your thought about religion its a comforting thought having a parent-figure who cares about you and looks after all the big things you can’t manage yourself, but institutionalizing it runs a severe risk of becoming harmful cults. And it often does.

45. Your personality type me

46. The most dangerous thing you’ve done i saw the lost bunny that was on all the posters in the neighbourhood looked thin and patchy so i grabbed him to take him home. im allergic. sent me to hospital and I almost died.

47. Are you happy with your current life? feeling sick sucks and partners having a depressive episode but things are pretty good

48. Some things you’ve tried in your life living

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49. What does your wardrobe consist of? blacks, reds, whites and pinks

50. Favourite colour to wear? at the moment pink. Red is always comforting though.

51. How would you describe your style? mix between lazy alternative punk, teenager with band shirts and harajuku peach kawaii uwu

52. Are you happy with your current looks? kinda wish i was a bit shorter but what can you do

53. If you could change/add something to your appearance - impossible or not - what would it be? bit shorter

54. Any tattoos or piercings? lol no PTSD

55. Do you get complimented often? by who? partner constantly, family haha are you kidding im australian so a friend’s version of showing affection is calling you a cunt and slapping your ass in public

56. Favourite aesthetic? all might

57. A popular trend that you dislike blocking because you disagree or find them distasteful. Ignoring all context to opposing thoughts and arguments. taking a personal feeling of disgust to mean something is evil. Blocking your ears to anything that isn’t a circlejerk of what you already think - and trying to isolate anyone who even just listens to something other then the noise of your sloppy dicks to have a thought of their own.

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58. Songs you’re currently obsessed with? The Machine by Low Roar

59. Song you normally wouldn’t admit you like. why wouldnt i admit i like a song

60. Favourite genre? probably enka haha

61. Favourite artist/band/genre? probably enka haha oh and tatsuro yamashita

62. Hated popular songs/artists? why the hell would I hate something like a song? I hate aspects of the music industry as a whole I guess?

63. Put your music on shuffle and list first 5 which playlist they aren’t all together in one place

64. Can you sing or play any instruments? piano, saxophone... uh... partners good at making music and playing shakuhachi

65. Do you like karaoke? no.

66. Own any albums? yes? many?

67. Do you listen to radio? What stations? no. but triple J, ABC Jazz and Classical. sometimes they even play final fantasy and JRPG music on classical which is pretty neat. -

68. Favourite movie/series? can i make this about games because then the answer is Metal Gear Solid

69. Favourite genre of movies/books/etc ...shounen?

70. Your fictional crush/es if they’re over 40yrs old, male and happy and bubbily or grumpy and sad then there’s a big ol fat chance I wanna bone. Solid Snake from MGS4, All Might and pretty much anyone drawn by Tarou Madoromi.

71. Which fictional character is you? uh

72. Are you a shipper? List your otps, if so what does this even mean what language is this

73. Favourite greek god? idk hades seems chill

74. A legend from where you live that you like the story of Tjilbruke is funny and good. all Kaurna stories are good.

75. Do you like art? What’s your favourite work or artist? im in a big egon schiele mood atm.

76. Can you share your other social media? no i am incapable

77. Favourite youtubers? many

78. Favourite platform? not too high up. actually i like being a little lower than ground level in corners.

79. How much time do you spend on the internet? too much

80. What video games have you played? Which one’s your favourite? look i just want to say that MGS4 is the best one in the series and Death Stranding is phenomenally engaging.

81. Your favourite books (manga also counts) these are all so goddamn definitive how can I pick? Oh wait the answer is One Piece

82. Do you play board/card games? I play DnD atm and know 15 yr old rules to Yugioh

83. Have you ever been to a night marathon in cinema? that shit dosn’t happen here

84. Favourite holiday golden week coz its a week also easter because thats when all the glucose based sweets come back

85. Are you into dramas? what kind

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86. Would you use death note, if you had one? no. thats called being a murderer.

87. What changes would you make in the world, no matter how impossible, if you had the power to? chill people out a bit. when people feel unsafe they get really depenfive and territorial and block their ears to everything, making in-and-out groups for themsevles that end up putting them in more harm.

88. Could you survive a zombie apocalypse? im disabled with a disabled partner. we arent funny sure we can survive normal everyday life when society is angled so sharply against us.

89. If you had to be turned into a paranormal being, what would it be? id like to be a mimi spirit

90. What would you want to happen to you after your death? spooky time

91. If you had to change your name, what would be your pick? toshinori yagi

92. Who would you switch your life with for a week? anyone healthy

93. Pick an emoji to be your tattoo that cursed one with the intense eyes and the hand

94. Write 3 things about yourself - only one of them must be true im me im not me im pee

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95. Cold or hot? cold.

96. Be a hero or be a villain? both are distasteful ideas in reality

97. Sing everything you want to say or rhyme? i can’t do either partner speak sin bad puns and its hell, these both sound about equal

98. Shapeshifting or controlling time? shapeshifting. controlling time is eithe rmanipulative or lonely. shapeshifing is every other superpower at once.

99. Be immortal or be immune to everything aside from natural death? both are deeply upsetting ideas

100. ….. or …..? jiji or ossan? generally Jiji, but ossans can be lovely too.

#personal #stupid

[scholarhect]

2 3 15 babey

HI BRO ILY

2. what’s your taco bell order

crunchwrap supreme. maybe a burrito, idk. i had a bean burrito today but i thought it was gross. plus the red freezy thing (starburst flavored, i think). except today i had baja blast and it was pretty good

i want you to know that this question is the entire reason i made this post. this was the germ, the mustard seed. “ask game: what’s your taco bell order”. and the rest was history

3. tell me about that one thing you wish someone would ask you about

(spoilers for tma if anybody’s gonna listen someday, i guess. literally major spoilers for seasons 1-4. turns out i don’t know how to shut up. thanks for indulging me)

okay. okay i’m gonna talk to you specifically. listen to me, i am talking directly into your ear now. i wish for the opportunity to tell you about ms melanie king. you’ve already heard about her as the inspiration for my haircut and also my fishnet outfit from that time i dragged you to that thrift thing, but she is such an icon. first of all she’s a YOUTUBER. (not like a vlogger, i guess, she hosts a show on youtube. but a youtuber nonetheless.) she hunts GHOSTS. on YOUTUBE. so, she shows up at The Magnus Institute, London, to tell them about that time she saw a ghost (but it was like ... a weird ghost. not a normal ghost. you know). immediately she insults the guy’s shitty old tape recorder that she is expected to speak into, in the year 2016. so they get snippy with each other and end up in a full-blown “The Girls Are Fightinggg” passive aggressive argument because they both view each other as pathetic, fake, not-respectable paranormal investigators. (and they both have A Thing about being respected & taken seriously.) like it turns out that the institute has a fucking laughable reputation in The Academic Community because they’ll just take a statement from anybody about their supposed supernatural experience. meanwhile jon thinks the people on ghost hunt shows are charlatans because their goal is entertainment and, yes, they “do ham it up a bit for the cameras.” ANYWAY. she’s all dragging the magnus institute and he’s like. “but you’re here.” it’s very funny. turns out she can’t tell the Serious Academic Community about her experience because it’s so wild that they’d laugh her out of her career. so she’s here. so she’s got no choice but to tell her story. so the episode continues, and ends, okay, and you’re like, “wow that was a fun and iconic one-off character. right?” WRONG.

season two... she’s BACK baby! after her experience at the military hospital, she wants to do research on War Ghosts, but the magnus institute wouldn’t let her in bc she didn’t have the Academic Clout for it, so the only way is to get an employee to vouch for her. so. she goes to jon like “please you’re the only friend i have here i need help” and they DO fight again but he does agree to help her (because they’re the same person. they are *spiderman pointing meme*). so, later, she’s back. she did some research on War Ghosts and broke into an old train graveyard (which is a thing apparently) and got stabbed by the ghost of an army medic and she got caught and arrested and she was screaming about how She Got Stabbed By A Ghost and somebody took a video and posted it online and then she BECAME A MEME for a couple days and nobody wanted to associate with her anymore. rip. but now she likes jon and she’s here to say goodbye (because she’s going to india) (she also sets off the climax of the season because she just happens to be that one person who can see that the monster pretending to be a major character is not, in fact, that character. she’s like “oh, which sasha? the new one? or the old one?” and jon’s like “what the fuck” and she’s like “there’s definitely two sashas. are you trying to gaslight me.” but whatever)

ok this is literally less than half her arc (i’ve covered. three episodes.) but this is long as fuck so i’ll wrap it up. “what a cool reoccurring character,” you may think! “i hope i get to see more of her!” well GUESS WHAT. she comes back from india (she’s been SHOT BY A GHOST) she wants to talk to jon but he’s not there (he was unfortunately in very close proximity to a murder and he’s on the run so he doesn’t get framed. double traumatic experience, very fun. anyway he’s staying at melanie’s friend’s house, whom she has conveniently namedropped a couple times so far (in the last episode she was like “she actually has nice things to say about you, why didn’t you tell me you knew her” and he’s like “we didn’t part on the best of terms”) because she is his ex-girlfriend, so, though he literally was just pretending that he didn’t know her, he now knows that she doesn’t hate him so he shows up at her place and she hides him from the cops because she’s literally the only person he knows outside work. but this isn’t about him.) so melanie has no job so elias is like “you want a job” and she’s like “sure?” so now she’s an archival assistant at the magnus institute (i realized i had to explain that. i don’t think you even know who elias is. head of the institute, everybody’s secretly evil boss, currently lowkey framing jon for the murder he committed. but lowkey) her coworkers don’t want her there because they’ve realized that their job is evil and they Physically Cannot Quit so they’re like “great now she’s stuck here too” but she doesn’t know that so she’s just like “why does everybody hate me. are you misogynists” because her Disrespect Alarm is going off in her head. and then they have a Department Meeting where jon comes back with an open knife wound on his neck and demands elias tell everyone about the TWO murders and then there’s a standoff situation where somebody wants to shoot elias but he’s “knife cat”ing at her and very dramatically forces her codependent friend slash partner (in the cop way not the gay way) to sign a contract as an archival assistant so that daisy (the cop with the gun) can’t hurt elias because, oh yeah, if he dies supposedly they all do too. so melanie is ... thoroughly disillusioned. and she becomes sullen, too, kind of. and she begins to try to murder elias. queen

things get worse (in a supernatural way. she gets Angry Knife Powers. there’s a Ghost Bullet from India lodged in her leg pumping murderous energy through her body and while she’s asleep jon removes it, it’s all very terrible.) but then she starts going to therapy because she wants to get better and she ends up making the difficult journey to Being Okay. (she also literally blinds herself to escape the institute, and that doesn’t really sound analogous to therapy out of context but it is, okay) and her arc is over and she’s the only character in the story who is currently Okay. we’re proud of her. her last appearance (so far. who knows what s5 has in store. hopefully not much) jon, who is in some deeeeep shit by this point, shows up asking for help, and she’s like “i can’t help you bc i can’t get dragged back into all that, but you’re always welcome in my life as a friend” which is not great for him at that point because he is kind of having a breakdown, but it’s still <3. much better than the beginning part of s4 when she wanted to kill him on sight. also she’s dating jon’s ex now lol

15. if somebody irl you didn’t know asked you how you feel about mcr what would you say (this question isn’t quite asking you how you feel about mcr, but it’s not not asking that)

i’d be like “yeah they’re pretty cool. i like them”

#ask #i am so fucking sorry. #i wrote this at 12-2 am last night. in case that wasnt obvious

[wizisbored]

What are some of your favorite lines you've written for your fics? (Also I'm sorry things aren't going well right now. Sending love 💜)

right its time to go diggin im using this as an excuse to reread everything because i cant think of any lines off the top of my head even though i know theres a shitton

premptively putting a cut here because this will probably end up long as shit and you know what fuck yea to that because fuck yea to being proud of what youve made

SO

hallelujah, first thing i posted:

If those bastards want to make her part of their shitty musical, then she’s going to make it difficult. Or at least inconvenient.

The hive is not inconvenienced in the slightest.’

- idk if this is as funny as i think it is but i find it funny

"Nobody dies with dignity, Emma. There's no honour in the thing, however you dress it up."

- wrote that to sound creepy and now i cant decide whether i actually think its true

But he’s holding her like she’s his salvation, as if it’s his life hanging in the balance.

- salvation is just a good word tbh

It’s hopeless, but she refuses to be killed by a game of fucking ‘got your nose’.

purgatory, intended to be a shitpost but now i unironically think of it as the best thing ive ever written

After a few years (or maybe seconds, it’s not clear) / it takes a moment (or maybe it doesn’t, who knows?) / An undocumentable amount of time passes. /  They might have slipped into an uneasy silence lasting millenia - or milliseconds - if it wasn’t for the jolly tune that suddenly fills the air. / for minutes or years or millenia or maybe even eons / After a brief, indescribably long nap / But the incomprehensible amount of time seems somehow shorter this time.

- 2 in one of fucking with the concept of time and hinting at an unreliable narrator, hell yea. its about the weird atmosphere, baybeeeee

“Does one day of trying the hardest we could outweigh years of not trying at all?” Emma wonders aloud. Paul squeezes her hand.

“I damn hope so.”

He doesn’t ask if she believes in Hell.

- even without context i like this line but in context it really helped set the sombre tone so i could do a full 180 at the end of the chapter

Emma wonders whether they’ve been sent to musical hell for failing to stop the musical apocalypse

- love the implication that there is a hell dedicated to annoying people via musical theatre

“You said- you told her you’d never be in a musical?”

“Yes.”

“And then you died performing a musical number?”

“I- yeah, I did.”

“Brilliant! Now, that is stupid!”

- probably my best characterisation of death, sounds like something that would be said in a stupid deaths bit, i can hear it in his voice

teachers pet

“It’s only blatant if people know about it. So in actual fact this is secret favouritism.”

- hidgens gives absolutely 0 shits about the ethics of the situation good for him

“And if that is kidnapping, well, consider yourself kidnapped.”

- once again ethics simply do not matter

“Oh, where is your sense of adventure? Are you not curious about the results of washing baked beans?”

- this line hants me when im trying to make stew or just have some fucking beans on toast because I am curious about the results of washing baked beans

“Well, if it isn’t, and we both die, then I’ll be quite disappointed. We did spend all evening on this, after all.”

- priorities

finishing what we started, actually originally a scrapped ending idea for igtlt that i liked too much to abandon entirely

“How many bullets?” He eventually asks.

“Enough.”

- they just know what theyve got to do

Only thing left to say is a big ol’ fuck you to… God, everyone else in the fucking world. Oh, and God. Fuck you God, you prick.

- gotta love them tto refs

wildfire, almost 20,000 words of angst that im going to read through because fuck it why not

She doesn't understand the order, at least not yet; a dog doesn't understand the first time she's called to heel. But that can change. Though, from the bared teeth of this dog, the trader guesses it may take a while.

- this is actually something i really like doing in narration, calling a character something in dialogue or comparison and then directly calling them it in the narration

He understands; she doesn't want to show weakness to someone who could exploit her, doesn't want to show gratitude to someone she hates. But the tribeswoman is tired and scared and hurt, and it's obvious. She's broken, at least for today.

The loneliness, however, refuses to wane. It settles in her chest like a physical need, a craving for closeness.

- got inspiration for this description by thinking about hugging my partner while i was stuck in lockdown

"You can say that again," the older woman mutters, shaking her head. "God-fuckin'-damnit, Lauren, why d'you never think about the implications?"

Jemilla turns to her with a questioning look. "Who's Lauren?"

"She-" Molag begins to explain, then pauses. She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "I don't even know."

- crossover jokes hell yea

He’s tolerable, she’s decided, at least relatively so, but not trustworthy. If she could truly trust him then he wouldn’t be involved in all this. If she could trust him, she wouldn’t know him.

The thinly-veiled threat in his grin

She stares up at the man, shaking, whimpering, pleading. Wordlessly begging for him to stop.

- gotta love reaching the breaking point

She probably looks insane, bruised and bloody and laughing quietly to herself in a cage. She doesn’t care. They can think she’s insane, just as long as they don’t think they broke her.

laughing as they rediscover half-forgotten days spent as children let loose in a world that seemed so huge and yet so small at the same time

“You know, kids like Zazzalil - scrawny little things born as Autumn died - they’re not supposed to see Spring.”

- i will see any character without a detailed fleshed-out backstory and say ‘is anyone going to make headcannons about that’ and then not wait for an answer

Maybe the pain will shock her out of her head.

im going to live twice

It feels more like a bag of broken crockery than a human.

- this was the only time ive ever had to describe something really gory and decided to make it as uncomfy as possible

she notices with a concerning level of non-concern

Paul Matthews is gone, boy. And if I catch you using a dead man’s name again, well.

- its about the ✨forced disconnect✨

It stares at him, and for a moment he sees the young man that Benny used to be, silently pleading for the agent to tell him he'll be okay.

"In my defence, that was the Colonel's idea.” The man raises his hands in surrender. “I wanted to call you Lauren. I was outvoted.”

- i will take literally any chance to make a 4th wall joke and that is a threat

“I’ll see what can be done,” he assures it, knowing full well that nothing will be.

- xander doesnt flat out abuse emma in the way mcnamara and shaffer do but hes still cruel in subtler ways

“No chance of being hurt?”

Xander nods. “No chance of you being hurt.”

-  ✨foreshadowing ✨

If only he was free, free to just get up and go find Blue and tell her - actually tell her, out loud, with words - that she’s going to be okay. If only he could say that and have it be the truth.

She holds onto that piano. Right now, as she kneels crying into the tabletop, it's all she has.

- ‘sir thats my emotional support near-complete stranger’

smoke and feathers

Irony can be a cruel, twisted bitch.

- probably the best opener ive written

There’s a sort of pathetic irony in the fact that she slipped on a stone while wading across a shallow stream and broke her neck.

The stars move across the sky, and she still doesn’t know why.

- sounds poetic and all while also being a fuck you to the chorn twist because i hate it

It seems like every time she looks away the moon goes from waxing to waning and back again, time marching onwards in one unending night, swallowing one unending forest.

Even with her limited view of the person’s face, Zazzalil can see the softness in their expression. She’s hit with a pang of longing for Jemilla.

They share those tender looks that make Zazzalil long for home.

The kind of silence only shared between people who can appreciate the simplicity of each other’s presence

aaand thats pretty much all of em. i know when you said ‘some’ you probably meant less than this but i will give a consice answer to a question when pigs fly. i was going to do the double e au too but its past 1 am now and im going to bed. thanks for this ask because whether intentionally or not you just made me read 48,860 words of fic and thats a damn good distraction when things are getting a bit shitty :)

#igtlt fic #wildfire fic #teachers pet fic #sf fic

[hatari-translations]

Kappsmál (25.10.19) - translation

Kappsmál is a game show on RÚV about the Icelandic language; I think it started this year. The title itself is a play on words: kappsmál means an issue or aspiration of great importance to someone, but it's a compound of "kapp" (race/contest) and "mál" (which in the actual word means an issue, but also means language).

On October 25th’s episode, Matthías was one of the contestants on this show, his teammate being Alma Mjöll Ólafsdóttir, his housemate and one of his partners in the Little Kettle Theatre Company (Ketiltetur) in 2016, which I've translated an article about before. Thus, I have taken on the Herculean task of translating a game show about Icelandic wordplay. Oh boy. Strap yourselves in.

I'm not going to translate every word that is said; I'll translate Matthías and anything that provides context to something he says, but otherwise mostly give the gist of what's said. However, I will be explaining everything that's going on in the show, what the rounds are about and the words, wordplay and grammatical concepts involved. So this is going to be one for my Icelandic-curious readers!

The female host (Björg Magnúsdóttir) begins by introducing it as the show where Icelandic is "the alpha and the omega". She asks the male host, Bragi Valdimar Skúlason, what he's been up to tonight, and he says that he's been thinking about words that share the same letters and go together, which he calls "Siamese words", such as "traust sturta" (a sturdy shower). What kind of vehicle do you travel on between countries? "Iðulega galeiðu" (usually a galley).

Björg introduces the contestants, asking each one what they think is the most difficult Icelandic word. The first is actress and playwright Vala Kristín Eiríksdóttir, who says she was about to use "ströggla", which is slang, an Icelandicization of the English verb "to struggle", to describe her difficulties with the word "spúla", which means to wash something with a high-pressure water pump; some people say it's "smúla". Bragi agrees that people are divided on the matter; he grew up saying "spúla" but then he started working at a freezing plant and they'd say "smúla".

Her teammate is actress Júlíana Sara Gunnarsdóttir; the two of them form a comedy duo. Júlíana's most difficult word is declining the word "ær" (a female sheep). This word is one of a few that are infamously counterintuitive and people get them wrong all the time; the four cases go ær - á - á - ær. Björg says that, but then Júlíana challenges her on the plural, ær - ær - ám - áa. (The plural actually is more intuitive than the singular, but Björg still admits defeat.) Bragi quips, "Þess vegna var kindin fundin upp", or "That's why they invented the sheep", except that he's obviously referencing the word "kind", which also means a sheep but is easier to decline.

Matthías is introduced next, as a "playwright, hater [hatari] and of course Eurovision contestant. Matthías likes to fry asparagus in butter and garlic and enjoys boiling beans in a pot and putting into taco shells." His most difficult word is "ímyndunarveiki" - which is apparently officially defined as hypochondria, but in casual usage I've always felt it to mean being delusional or just overly lost in flights of fancy. Literally, this is a compound that means "imagination sickness", and Matthías says, "Because why is that a sickness?" He asks why it's not "ímyndunargleði", which is literally "imagination joy". When -gleði is used as a suffix, it tends be a word used to describe someone who enjoys something - e.g. "vinnugleði" for someone who's enthusiastic about their work - so "ímyndunargleði" would just mean "liking imagination".

Matthías goes on: "I think that's hard. Why is it a sickness to be imagination..." Björg suggests there's a kind of shame to it. "Yeah, it's a kind of imagination-shaming." Júlíana says, "That's how a playwright thinks." Matthías says "Yeah, isn't it? Why... I don't know. It seems very loaded, somehow. That's why I'd like to suggest ímyndunargleði."

Alma Mjöll, journalist, twin and author of opinion columns and stage projects, apparently likes to make guacamole for the aforementioned taco shells, because she and Matthías live together. Her most difficult Icelandic word is "brúðkaup" (wedding), which is a compound of "brúður" (bride) and "kaup" (purchase). She doesn't want to get married until this word has been changed, because of the dodgy connotations of that compound. Matthías nods. She also doesn't like "gifting" (marriage), which like in English implies the bride is a gift. Björg asks how she feels about "að ganga í hjónaband", another alternative that literally means "to go into a couple bond". Alma doesn't feel like that's neutral either, but some of the others suggest that's just a bond between individuals; she says she'll think about it.

Björg says "So you two just want to exterminate those two words." Matthías says "Yes. We're here to exterminate."

Next, the teams get names, which are created by Bragi by taking letters from their combined first names and making a word out of them. For Vala Kristín and Júlíana Sara, Bragi suggests Vínsala (a wine store), Snúllar (snúlla is a sort of general cutesy nickname, along the lines of "cutiepie"), Vínkjallarar (wine cellars) or Kínarúlla (Chinese roll), but ended up on Sjakalar (jackals). For Matthías and Alma Mjöll, he suggest Maísmjöl (corn flour), Tímatal (reckoning/calendar), Mjaltatíma (milking time) or Maltöl (malt beer, very popular in Iceland), but settled on Smjatt (the sound that you make when chewing loudly). Alma Mjöll gasps and calls it perfect. Matthías says something in response to this but I'm not quite sure what it is; it sounds like "Wasn't Smjatt going to come tonight?", but I'm not sure what he could be referencing there and I can't hear it super clearly.

Finally time for the actual game show! The first round is "The letter", where the contestants are given categories, and they're supposed to come up with as many words as possible that fall into this category and start with a given letter in ten seconds. For this episode, the letter is V.

Sjakalar go first.

The first category is "Men's names". They come up with Valur, Vignir, Vigfús, Valdimar, Villi and Víðir, all pretty common Icelandic men's names.

Next, they get "Animals" and only come up with "valur" again (which means a falcon in addition to being a name).

Next, "Verbs". Vaða (wade), velja (choose), vera (be), vakna (wake), vilja (want), vona (hope), and vita (know).

Then, "Cities". Varsjá (Warsaw), Vilnius, and “Volga no that's a river.”

"Jobs". Viðgerðarmaður (repairman) and verkamaður (labourer).

Next, they go over the answers. Bragi adds vatnabuffall (water buffalo), villisvín (hog) and vambi (wombat) to the animal category, and Björg suggests vampíra (vampire), though that one's obviously pretty dubious. They get 17 points all together.

Next, still a part of the letter round, they're supposed to see pictures of things that usually start with a V, only they're supposed to come up with new words for them that don't start with a V.

The first picture shows lipstick (varalitur). Vala comes up with "litastifti" (color stick). Júlíana starts to say "túss-" (marker), but doesn't manage to finish what was presumably meant to be a compound in time.

Next they get waders (vöðlur). Vala comes up with "vatnabuxur" (water pants), but unfortunately that also starts with a V. Then "buxnahlíf" (pants cover) and "fiskigræja" (fishing gear).

Then a flashlight (vasaljós), for which Vala suggests "ljósastöng" (light stick). Júlíana says "ljósapera", which is totally not a new word, it's just the word for a lightbulb. Vala comes up with "lýsiskaft" (lighting grip) and "ljósatæki" (light machine).

Next, a steamroller (valtari). Júlíana suggests "bílatrukkur" (car truck), Vala "vinnutæki" (work machine), then Júlíana "bílatæki" (car machine).

Finally, a vampire (vampíra). Vala suggests "blóðkona" (blood woman), "dauðadís" (death woman) and "dauðavera" (death creature); Júlíana "blóðmaður" (blood man).

Out of these, Bragi considers the lipstick, flashlight and vampire categories to have received valid contributions, with "litastifti", "lýsiskaft" and "dauðadís". I'm guessing this is judged subjectively. For this, they get six points, ending with 23.

Next up is Smjatt, still with the letter V, starting with the things that actually start with V.

For the category "Women's names", they come up with Vala, Valgerður and Vigdís, plus Matthías says "Vonheiður" and "Valheiður", which are not actually names but do sound like they could be, and Alma says "vinkona" (female friend) and "vorheiða", which are definitely not names.

Next, "Clothing". Matthías immediately says "vatnabuxur" (the water pants from earlier), but unfortunately doesn't come up with the original word, "vöðlur". Then "vínfatnaður" (wine clothes), and Alma says "vorklæðnaður" (spring clothes). Matthías adds "vorklæði" (spring clothes again) and "vorhúfa" (spring hat).

Then "Adjectives". Matthías says "vænn" (good), Alma says "vongóður" (hopeful), Matthías says "vær" (peaceful, as in sleeping peacefully), Alma says "veikur" (sick) and "veiklulegur" (sickly).

"Machines and tools". Matthías says "vísindaglas" (science glass, which is not actually what we call a vial).

"Companies". Matthías says "Velcro" (not Icelandic, but okay), Alma says "Valitor" (which is). Matthías says "Vinabær" (friend town), which actually exists and is apparently a place that hosts bingo. Alma says "Viss ehf.", a mobile phone insurance company.

Bragi thinks Vonheiður and Vorheiða should totally be names. When he gets to the machines and tools category, Matthías asks, "Can you help us a bit there?" Bragi suggests "vélsög" (chainsaw), "vélbor" (power drill) and "valtari" (steamroller). All in all, this got them 14 points.

Next, for the new words that don't start with a V:

First, a crib (vagga). Alma suggests "barnarúm" (child bed), Matthías "barnadýna" (child mattress) and then "barnadýnugrind" (child mattress frame), Alma "barnagrind" (child frame), which is very unlikely to catch on because it's frighteningly close to "barnagirnd" (pedophilia). Matthías says "barnahristir" (child shaker), which is hilarious, and "barnasvæfir" (child put-to-sleep-er).

Then, a glass of water (vatnsglas). Matthías says "glesill" (an actual proper non-compound neologism deriving from "glas" with a vowel shift), "drykkjarfang" (drinking utensil, already a word) and "drykkjarberi" (drink carrier).

Next, a waffle (vaffla). Matthías suggests "Belgíuskonsa" (Belgian scone), "Belgíubrauð" (Belgian bread), "Belgíuvinur" (Belgian friend) and "Belgíumatur" (Belgian food). Alma says "ekkipansa" (not a pancake), which is also amazing.

Then, some grapes (vínber). Matthías suggests "Ameríkurúsínur" (American raisins), and Alma starts to say Brazilian something but the time runs out.

Finally, an alarm clock (vekjaraklukka). Alma says "klukkuvinur" (clock friend), Matthías says "morgunhani" (morning rooster, also a term for an early riser) and "morgunfjandi" (morning devil).

Bragi judges "barnasvæfir", "glesill"/"drykkjarberi", "Belgíubrauð"/"Belgíuskonsa" and "morgunfjandi" to be valid, and thus they get eight points, ending with 22.

The next round is "Óorð", which can mean slander, but is literally "Un-words". In this round, they will see four words, of which one does not exist: it's an unword. The contestants need to guess which is the unword and what the other three words mean.

Sjakalar start again. The four words are "Draumhugi" (dream mind), "Draumsvæfa" (dream sleeper), "Svefnpungur" (sleep scrotum) and "Bliksvefn" (flicker sleep). They guess that the unword is draumsvæfa; svefnpungur sounds like it'd be fake, but something about it sounds familiar. They are correct. They also correctly guess that "draumhugi" is basically equivalent to the English word "dreamer" - someone who daydreams. Matthías suggests maybe such a person is ímyndunarglaður; Vala suggests "ímyndunarvirkur" (imagination-active).

For svefnpungur, Vala first thinks of a sleep mask but she knows that's not it. Júlíana suggests it might be similar to "svefnpurka", which is a gently derogatory term for someone who sleeps a lot, like "sleepyhead". Then she suggests maybe it's just a pillow. This is incorrect, so they ask Smjatt for their take. Matthías asks as an aside whether it's svefnpurka or svefnburka, but the answer is inconclusive (it's definitely svefnpurka, what). Alma suggests either it's where you put your money while you sleep, or it's somebody who's really grumpy in the morning. Bragi explains that it's actually just bags under your eyes. (I have never heard this word, but it makes a lot of sense.)

They guess bliksvefn is dozing off shallowly. That's wrong. Matthías suggests when you fall asleep suddenly. Bragi explains it's actually REM sleep (where your eyes flicker), which immediately makes sense to everyone. Icelandic compounds can be cool and transparent like that.

The next batch of words, for Team Smjatt, is "Næturgöltur" (night hog), "Náttsvín" (night pig), "Náttfilla" (night membrane), and "Blóðnætur" (blood nights). Matthías says, "I think it's suspicious that that filla doesn't have a y" - fylla is a common word meaning fill, filla is a word that I had to look up in a dictionary just now. Alma comments on how there's both næturgöltur and náttsvín; Matthías says "Yes, they're trying to trick us." At "blóðnætur" he just blinks and says "I have no clue. We are being lassoed into a trap." Matthías thinks the unword is "náttfilla", because what is a filla without a y. Alma thinks it's næturgöltur. They go with næturgöltur, but it's actually náttsvín. Alma thinks náttsvín sounds cuter than næturgöltur.

Now they're supposed to guess what næturgöltur is. Alma suggests someone who misbehaves in their sleep. Matthías suggests, "Someone who sleepwalks, makes noise, swears..." Then he suggests maybe it's a nocturnal animal, maybe in forests. This is wrong, so the question goes over to Sjakalar. Júlíana says it just makes her think of her husband, who snores a lot.

Bragi explains it's actually not "göltur" as in hog, it's a different word that means wandering - so næturgöltur is wandering in the night. Matthías asks if the animal is actually derived from this other word, which Bragi says it is!

Time for the mysterious náttfilla. Matthías and Alma jokingly pronounce it as if it were Swedish, then Matthías says, "I'm just going to admit that I have no idea." Alma suggests maybe it's a piece of clothing. Bragi throws it over to the other team; Vala says she thinks it's derived from "fullur" (full) and that it means when you get a full night's sleep, but as Bragi points out, she got confused there; if it were derived from fullur it would have a y. Vala can hear her mother's disappointment in her. Bragi explains it's actually a nighttime fog.

Finally, we're looking at blóðnætur. Matthías says "See, we had vampires, or night women, or what was it - death women. So that's where I'm at." Alma suggests, "Something bad happened this night." He agrees; "The blood nights, where a lot of people died. They were great blood nights." Bragi says they're on the right track, but not quite. Sjakalar suggest it's when the sky is red at sunset. My guess would have been that it means a period, as in menstruation, but no, apparently it's "the time just after a man has been slain, when the thirst for revenge is at its peak". #relatable, eh?

All in all, Sjakalar got seven points, and Smjatt got zero, leaving Sjakalar with 30 and Smjatt with 22.

The next round is "The Pump". In this one, a combination of letters is displayed, and then each contestant in turn has to name a word starting with this exact combination of letters in a few seconds; if they fail, they're eliminated. The letters are "Tja", and:

Vala: tjara (tar)

Júlíana: tjald (tent)

Matthías: Tjarnargata (Pond Street, a street in Reykjavík)

Alma: tjaldur (Eurasian oystercatcher, a bird common in Iceland)

Vala: tjasla (to patch something together)

Júlíana: "tjassa" (not a word; she's eliminated)

Matthías: tjatta (Icelandicization of "to chat")

At this, they stop. Bragi is doubtful. Matthías says "Young people do it every day." "Doesn't that have a ch?" asks Björg. Matthías says he thought the Icelandic version had a tj. "I thought it was such a progressive language." For what it's worth I agree with him; c is not a letter in Icelandic and if you're using the word at all it should be spelled with a tj. But it's not yet in the dictionary of modern Icelandic, so Matthías is out. We continue:

Alma: tjaldbúðir (camp)

Vala: tjaldvagn (wagon)

Alma: tjaldstöng (tentpole)

Vala: tjaldútilega (tent camping)

Alma: "That's not a word! tjald...aðu" (pitch a tent, imperative)

Vala: tjaldsvæði (camping ground)

Alma: tjarnarhringur (a circle around a pond; might be, for example, walking around the Pond in Reykjavík)

Vala: Tjarnarbíó (Pond Cinema, a theater near the Pond in Reykjavík)

Alma: tjarnardrulla (pond mud)

And at that Bragi stops her; it's not in the dictionary. With that, Sjakalar get five more points, jumping up to 35. Matthías says "I'm still in shock about the chat." Bragi says he has a certain sympathy for him.

The next round is "Þvers og kruss", which is an idiom meaning "all over the place" or "back and forth", but it's reminiscent of a crossword; þvers means across, and kruss is apparently a sailing term but sounds like kross (cross). It's basically like two simultaneous rounds of hangman, where the two words cross each other, and the teams take turns guessing a letter, which might help the other team.

Team Smjatt gets to pick which word they want; they pick across/horizontal. Björg asks why, and Matthías says with a shrug, "She asked what my feeling was, and I just..."

To help, they're told the words are both birds. (Matthías says something, but I can't make it out.)

For the first letter guess, Matthías and Alma guess T, which appears twice in the other word but not at all in theirs.

Team Sjakalar guess Ð, but there's no Ð in either word.

Next Matthías says, "We want E." There is one E in their word, and Matthías says "Smjattið er ekki dautt", or "The chewing isn't dead," obviously referring to their team.

Sjakalar guess I, of which there is one in their word.

Smjatt guess S, of which there is none. Matthías says "Þetta er ógeðslega spenandi", which means "This is incredibly exciting." You may recognize the word "ógeðslegur" from Klámstrákur; it literally means "disgusting", but in this adverb form it's used frequently as a generic intensifier.

Team Sjakalar guess U, which is in their own word again.

For their next guess, Matthías and Alma are whispering to each other. Matthías suggests N, and Alma goes "Yeah... no!" Matthías says "But then we're just out." Presumably they're thinking of the fact it's very likely N is in Sjakalar's word as well (it's one of the most common letters in Icelandic). They end up going with K. Matthías says "We're still just shooting in the dark." Luckily, there are indeed two K's in their word.

Sjakalar guess Ú. (Note how U and Ú are considered completely separate letters in Icelandic.) There is an Ú in their word, and at this point I know it's "Turtildúfa" (turtle dove).

Smjatt is still having trouble. Matthías: "U...O?" Alma: "No, stop." Matthías: "I'm just saying, taking a shot, taking risks." Alma: "Okay, take risks. You do that." So they guess O, which is in neither word.

Sjakalar guess F. They've probably worked out their word too.

Matthías asks if they've guessed B yet, which they haven't. "We might maybe want to guess that." Bragi says "Very good letter, one of the best, but it's not in these words." Björg says "Það eru smá áföll að dynja yfir smjattið", which you might translate as something like "There are some setbacks raining down on the chewing."

Sjakalar guess L, which is of course also in their word.

Matthías is confused that there isn't an I at the end of theirs - a word ending in -ki would be pretty typical. (Their word is probably actually something ending in "kráka", or crow.) Matthías: "H!" Alma: "M!" Matthías: "Or M!" But then they both go with H, which is not in either word.

Sjakalar guess D, predictably enough, but it's also the first letter of Matthías and Alma's word. At this point I figure it's probably "Dvergkráka", or "dwarf crow" (Western jackdaw).

Matthías and Alma are still puzzled. Alma jokingly says "The bird Dekk", "dekk" being a car tire. Matthías says "We were just talking about this at home, Googling bird species. We didn't do it." Alma: "We didn't." Matthías: "Did you?" Alma: "I didn't." They go with R, of which there are two in their word, but unfortunately one overlaps with Sjakalar's.

This means Sjakalar have only one letter left, and they guess A and complete their word. Matthías says something like "Nú kannski kemur í ljós hvað þau voru... Fórnir til að ná árangri", or "Now maybe we'll find out what they were... Sacrifices for success”; not sure what he’s getting at. Bragi asks Team Smjatt if they know their word yet, but they look confused, and instead Júlíana guesses dvergkráka, at which Matthías and Alma clearly feel very stupid. Bragi calls it "A very nice bird, a friend to its friends."

Either way, Sjakalar have won the round and get ten points for it. They're now at 45 to Smjatt's 22.

For the next round, both teams have a bag with Scrabble tiles representing "Turtildúfa", except the D has been replaced with an S, and they're supposed to make a new word out of them, as long as they can, in sixty seconds. Bragi adds, "It has to be in the dictionary. No tjatt."

While the teams work on it, Björg and Bragi discuss how tjatt really should be at least in the slang dictionary, because people use it.

As the sixty seconds finish, Matthías asks, "Does it have to be in the nominative case?", which is the "default" case for words, the one you'd actually find in a dictionary - it doesn't. Their word is "súldar", which is the genitive case of "súld" (drizzle). Bragi muses it could also be the name of a country; Matthías says "The sultan of Súldar?" Sjakalar's word is "saltur" (salty). Alma: "Does that exist?" Matthías: "That exists." Alma: "I'm joking."

Bragi tells them they could theoretically have made the words "fúlastri" (a bit weird-sounding, but a form of "fúl" (grumpy/annoyed, feminine)) or "litfastur" ("color-stuck", something that doesn't change color easily). Matthías says "That would've been cool." "Trúlausi" (atheist) and "trúfasti" (faithful) are both also in there; Matthías says "Ah, we didn't see the 'trú'."

Either way, each team gets six points for making a word six letters long. They're now at Sjakalar 51, Smjatt 28.

It's time for another round of The Pump. Björg says "We're hearing groans of anguish from the contestants." Matthías: "It was so stressful last time." This time, rather than finding a word starting with the given letter combination, they must find a word with that letter combination in the middle of the word, but not at the start. The letters this time are "ölv".

Matthías: "Not the most pleasant word to start with, but ofurölvi!" (super drunk)

Alma: fölvi (paleness)

Vala: bölvun (curse)

Júlíana: völva (seeress)

Matthías: völvuspá (seeress prophecy; he makes a face at this, probably because he's actually thinking of the ancient poem Völuspá, but they give it a pass)

Alma: "ofurölvasssss... ohh!" She's out.

Vala: tölva (computer)

Júlíana: Sölva (masculine name)

Matthías: tölvuleikjaforritari (video game developer, I love him)

Vala: tölvuskjár (computer monitor)

Júlíana: mölva (smash to bits)

Matthías: "I'm just stuck on the computers. Tölvumús?" (computer mouse)

Vala: tölvuhleðslutæki (computer charger) - but she's too late and she's out.

Júlíana: tölvutækni (computer technology)

Matthías: tölvuleikjamót (video game tournament)

Júlíana: tölvutakkaborð ("computer button board" - she was obviously trying to say "tölvulyklaborð" (computer keyboard) but apparently this counts)

Matthías: tölvuleikjaleikmaður (video game player)

Júlíana: "Grölva?" Obviously just guessing, and this is not a word; she's out.

Thus, Matthías wins this round, and they get five points - 51 to 33.

The next round is called "Frasakássa", or "phrase casserole". They get a grid of letters and are supposed to find a line from an Icelandic pop song in it. After a few seconds Matthías asks, "They can be diagonal?"; they can be, but not backwards. Matthías and Alma end up getting it: "Haltu í höndina á mér og ekki sleppa" (hold my hand and don't let go), a lyric from the song Í síðasta skipti, which was apparently one of the Söngvakeppnin entries in 2015; I didn't follow the contest that year and don't think I've ever heard this song before.

They can get extra points by naming the songwriter(s). Smjatt guess Friðrik Dór [Jónsson]; Júlíana says Ásgeir Orri [Ásgeirsson] and Pálmi Ragnar [also Ásgeirsson; they are brothers]. They're all well-known songwriters, and it turns out all three of them worked together to write this song, so neither team gets points for that. Team Smjatt gets ten points for being the first to find the phrase, though, bringing them to 43 points. Matthías balks at getting ten whole points for this. Júlíana says yeah, it was hard, and Vala adds she'd started screaming a sentence from one of the Passion Hymns.

It's time for the final round of the night, "stafapressan" (Letter Press/Letter Pressure). They can choose a six-point, twelve-point or eighteen-point question. The way this works is that they get a phrase and a grammatical form to put it in; one team member has to say it out loud, and then the other has to spell it correctly.

Team Smjatt go first because they have fewer points. Alma says, "We could win." Matthías says, "You have to take risks to succeed. We did that for the last round." So they go with an eighteen-point question! Alma volunteers to spell, leaving Matthías with the task of declining the phrase correctly. When Björg asks if he's ready, he says "Oh my god."

His phrase is "velgja volgan elg" (to warm a lukewarm moose). They want this in the imperative singular superlative plural dative. (You may note there's both a singular and a plural in there. What they mean by it is that the imperative should be singular but the noun plural - that is, commanding one person to warm multiple of the lukewarmest moose. In Icelandic, the adjective is declined and pluralized along with the noun.)

Matthías doesn't take long to say, "Velgdu volgustu--" and then he pauses to decline "elgur" in the definite plural to be absolutely sure: "Hér eru elgirnir um elgina frá elgunum - velgdu volgustu elgunum." "Are you locking it like that?" "Yes." Very confident, and totally correct. Alma also spells it out without problems, and they get their eighteen points, putting them at 61 points, suddenly ten points ahead of Sjakalar. Bragi notes that "elgjunum" would also have been accepted.

It's time for Sjakalar to decide which difficulty they want. Júlíana notes that she's just thinking of winning, for which they'd need twelve points; Alma says "No, Vala, think of your mom!", referring back to Vala's earlier comment about how her mom would be so disappointed in her getting something wrong. But they decide to go with the twelve points, and Júlíana steps back to be the speller.

Vala's phrase is "sigggróið ilsig", or "a callused flatfoot", and they want the dative singular comparative definite form: the more callused flatfoot. With some difficulty, she comes up with "sigggrónara ilsigisins" - but unfortunately that's the genitive and not the dative, which she would definitely have known if she were putting it in a sentence, but it's confusing keeping track of all those grammatical cases under pressure. Júlíana panics at the looming time limit and also fails to correctly spell what Vala just said, and all in all they definitively lose the round, leaving them still with 51 points to Matthías and Alma's 61. Team Smjatt has claimed victory!

When Bragi explains Vala's error and that it should have been "sigggrónara ilsiginu", Alma quips, "A common mistake." Júlíana notes that she didn't think there was much of a difference between the difficulty of the twelve-point phrase and the eighteen-point phrase, which Matthías agrees with, and I have to agree too; I honestly think I probably would've had more trouble with sigggrónara ilsiginu than velgdu volgustu elgunum. (The latter was worth more points because it's three words rather than two.)

Vala says Júlíana's probably going to break off their professional relationship; Alma says it would've been worse if they'd lost, because they live together. "If I'd screwed it up in the final stretch with the moose..." Matthías: "Matthías, get out on the street."

Finally, for the viewers at home, they ask for social media suggestions for a word for the divider that you place on the conveyor at a store between your stuff and the people before and after you. Vala suggests there's already a word for that - "vöruaðskilnaðarferna", or "product separation cuboid" (or rather, presumably they're going for cuboid, but as it is the word "ferna" is exclusively used for cardboard containers around liquid, like milk cartons or juice boxes). This is an extremely, extremely awkward word and Matthías goes "Ugh!" Me too, Matthías.

As they ask for people to post their suggestions on the #kappsmál hashtag, they say "Just spray it out!", which just reminds me of Griðastaður, but that's probably not intended to be a reference.

#kappsmál #matthías tryggvi haraldsson #translation #icelandic

[nelvana]

In which the partners talk things through

First: In which the human is transformed Next: In which plans for action are made Previous: In which the grovyle gives an explanation

    Keahi and Alex disliked each other. While at first, they seemed to be okay with each other, Alex sharing the mission and the context for it and then Keahi cheerfully making them some food, but as the afternoon dragged on, Nelvana began to realize they were developing a slight rivalry against each other.  Whenever Alex would bring up his past with her, Keahi’s feathers would bristle slightly in defense, and when Keahi would talk proudly about working with her as a teammate, she could see that while the grovyle appeared calm, his gold eyes burning with frustration. Nelvana would laugh about how childish their growing jealousy was, if it weren’t so serious. She didn’t want them to fight over being partners with her.

    At least the pizza tasted good.

    The sun had long since set and Nelvana now laid in her nest, buried under her blankets and her thoughts. Silence had settled in the house, the other two were trying to go to sleep as well, Keahi at zir nest and Alex on the bean bag couch, which left her to stress about the day and how it would affect tomorrow. This didn’t help her actually go to sleep in anyway, but there was too much to think about, trying not to think about one problem just turned her thoughts to the next problem.

    Deciding the try and work her way through each stressor until she fell asleep, she started by thinking about easily the least pressing current problem; the monster house. Pelipper had said that this could spell trouble in the future if other dungeons followed this trend. She really could only hope that it wouldn’t and be prepared for the worst, just in case. It was somewhat calming to convince herself that this was something she didn’t have control of, and that it would work itself out. However, this also meant she would just push her thoughts onto the next issue.

    Gengar. Gengar and his stupid lies and rumors. Nelvana rolled over onto her back and tried to keep herself from tensing up as she recalled the events of the afternoon like a broken record. Just thinking about it brought back the sick feeling to her stomach, easily making this the most stressful problem of the day purely based on how she instinctively reacted to it. Would he have succeeded if Alex hadn’t intervened? Would everyone be so desperate as to jump to conclusions like that? No, she figured. No one in Pokemon Square is bloodthirsty enough to actually try to kill her. Regardless, that possibility sent chills down her spine and she tried burying herself under her blanket even more, as if that would help her to sleep and stop thinking about these issues.

    Just as Nelvana was about to try distracting herself with the next big stressor of the day, she was pulled out of her drowsy state from the sound of someone, she figured Alex based off where the noise came from, getting up and opening up the door. She peeked over just in time to see the grovyle exiting the house, confirming her guess. Only a couple moments later, she could hear him climbing up onto the roof and staying there. He was likely going to get some fresh air and see the stars to clear his own thoughts, and she deciding he’d be better off if she didn’t follow him. Not that she’d have much to say to comfort him anyway. Closing her eyes and turning to her side, she tried to just focus on sleeping instead. Much to her surprise, just as she felt herself drifting off, she heard Keahi get up and go outside as well. Hoping that they would maybe talk their differences through, she remained put in her bed as to not distract them.

    Keahi stepped outside, quietly shutting the door behind zim as to hopefully not wake up Nelvana. Aside from rolling around, the cubone seemed to be asleep and zie didn’t want to ruin that. Zie scanned the area for Alex, and then looked up to see him sitting on the roof, peacefully looking up at the starry night sky. He glanced down at zim without moving his head before looking back up at the sky.

    “Are you just going to stare at me?” Alex finally asked.

    “I was going to ask why you were even up there,” Keahi replied.

    “Stargazing,” Alex told zim courtly, “doing some thinking as well, I suppose,” he added with a sigh.

    “Oh,” Keahi said, pausing to look up at the sky for zirself, which was clear and showed off the stars spectacularly on this night.

    After a few moments of silence, Alex turned to look down at the torchic, “are you going back inside or do you want me to help you up on the roof?”

    Keahi’s eyes widened and zie glanced back over at Alex, “I’d like to go up on the roof, actually.”

    Alex sat up in more of a crouch and leaned over in Keahi’s direction. Once zie walked closer, he reached down and grabbed pulled the torchic up onto the roof by zir larger head feathers. He managed to pull this off swiftly enough that zie only felt a sharp tug before being swept up onto the roof.

    “Woah! Be careful there!” Keahi chuckled nervously, shaking zir head before settling down beside Alex on the roof.

    “I typically am,” Alex replied, sitting back down properly and tilting his head back to look back up at the sky.

    Neither of them spoke for awhile, lacking much to say to each other, and an awkward silence began to settle in.

    “The stars are really pretty tonight,” Keahi said to start up a conversation.

    “They are.” A soft smile crossed Alex’s face. “Very beautiful… Did you know there aren’t any stars in the future either?” he told Keahi.

    “There aren’t? No visible sun or stars?” Keahi gasped, “is there a moon?”

    “Yes, the moon is still there,” Alex answered, turning his head to look up at the mentioned moon. “We’d probably be lost without it.”

    Keahi looked over at Alex thoughtfully, “y’know, Nel was really surprised to see the sun. We were going to my old place at Scorched Plains, and when we finally were out of the forest she looked up at the sky and had to ask what the sun was,” zie said, “and then she got really excited about all the colors… I was super confused then, but it was kinda cute. Now I understand.”

    Alex’s smile dropped slightly as his gaze grew more somber, “living in the future of darkness my entire life, I could only imagine what the light of the sun would be like. Seeing it for the first time was staggering. It surpassed all of my expectations,” he murmured, “seeing the stars come out in the night was equally breathtaking. The past never ceases to amaze me.” His smile returned and he glanced back over at Keahi for a moment, before looking up at the night sky again.

    “…I’m beginning to realize how much we take for granted here,” Keahi sighed, “the sun rises, and then it sets. It’s a normal part of our lives, and we accept it. We take it for granted because it’s always been here. The idea of there being anything else is mindboggling, I can’t imagine life without it, just seeing the sun or colors or the stars are some of the most amazing aspects of life,” zie continued, “but you and Nel and anyone else in the future after the unthinkable, you never got this. That’s honestly terrifying.”

    “Well as you said, this has always been how things are for you, so I suppose it isn’t entirely your fault for taking everything for granted,” Alex responded, “it’s seeing the world like this that truly reminds me of our mission, to keep the world as it is now.”

    They were quiet for a few moments, but it was beginning to feel more comfortable than awkward to not say anything. Aside from the occasional breeze, making Alex’s leaves ripple in the air and Keahi’s feathers ruffle up, as well as the trees around them rustle, it was silent. Finally, Keahi spoke up again.

    “Did you ever get to meet Nel’s family? Were they nice?” zie asked.

    “Oh yes. She only lived with her immediate family, and they were very nice and supportive. They understood how important this mission was and helped encourage us and generally help out us start out. It was sad to have to leave them behind,” Alex answered.

    “Ah, I was a bit worried there. I think my parents have been too,” Keahi chuckled nervously, “could they speak pokemon?”

    “Not really. Humans speaking pokemon and vise versa was very rare, even then with us co-existing. Her parents had learned from their family enough to teach Nel and her siblings some of the basics, but it was clear that she had invested more time into trying to really learn the language than they had. Luckily, I could speak enough human by then that we got by,” Alex explained.

    “Who taught you how to speak human before you met Nel?” Keahi questioned.

    “My parents,” Alex replied courtly, stiffening slightly at the topic. “What about your family? What are they like?” he asked.

    Keahi smiled, “they’re great. I really love them, but it was the right choice to start up the team and move out here. It’s been my dream for awhile to start up a team, and I finally had the chance. They were very supportive of us, I was a bit worried that my dad would be really overprotective about it, but he understands that we’re okay out here,” zie explained, “I have a pretty big family too, most of my extended family lives there. Just mentioning that because Nel was pretty surprised to figure that out. Is… that a normal thing in the future? To have small families?”

    Alex let out a low hiss and shifted his seating position, “it’s a bit complicated. Staying in groups is useful to survival, but if you make it too big then you don’t get enough food and you’re a bigger target. Sticking to immediate family was common, for humans and pokemon.”

    “And when the kids are old enough they move on for new territory and groups?” Keahi guessed.

    “You’re getting the hang of it.” Alex nodded.

    “So how old were you two when you started travelling together?” Keahi asked.

    “I think she was thirteen and I was fourteen. It took us awhile to actually locate the time gears and start collecting them,” Alex answered after a moment’s thought.

    “Oh! So, you’re older than Nel then,” Keahi commented, blinking in surprise. “I’m younger than her, or at least we think, so I guess I kinda assumed you’d be too.”

    Alex chuckled, “no… I’m older. She was born in the early spring and I hatched in the autumn a year or so before,” he said, “she’s fifteen now, and I’m sixteen going on seventeen.”

    “Aw, so I am younger than her. I’ll turn 15 in a little over a month from now,” Keahi replied.

    “You’d rather be the oldest? That just means you’ll die sooner,” Alex joked.

    “Jeez, that’s dark! You’re the one who’s the oldest, don’t say that!” Keahi laughed, flapping zir left wing at the grovyle, who flinched, but then laughed as well.

    For a few moments, they were quiet again. Keahi yawned tiredly, but no one said anything. Taking a pause from the conversation to bask in the starlight and the quiet night. Alex stretched and then looked back at the torchic.

    “You… wanted to make a team for a long time, right?” Alex asked, and Keahi nodded. “So, why didn’t you? What was stopping you from making a team before you found Nel?”

    “Well… for awhile it was my age that was stopping me. You aren’t allowed to make or join a team until you’re at least 12, and even then, my dad has this rule in our household that we need to wait until we’re at least 13 too. So, I had to wait a long time before making a team was even an option for me,” Keahi began, “and at that point I was mature enough to realize I wasn’t ready. I had only gone into a mystery dungeon a couple times then, and that was with family, so they did most of the fighting for me. I didn’t have enough money properly saved to buy the needed supplies, and I just wasn’t prepared right in general. It’s not from a lack of trying to prepare or a poor use of my time, I don’t think. More so just a kid being too excited for the end result, and messing up the steps to get there,” zie continued, “and when I was finally ready, I needed to find someone else who was so we could partner up. It’s recommended that you don’t start off with someone the same type as you, so you don’t run into huge type problems early on. Which is smart and a completely understandable piece of advice, but that also eliminated pretty much everyone in my area as a possible partner. So, I had to look elsewhere. Most of my not fire-type friends had either moved on, or weren’t ready to make a team yet, leaving me stumped.”

    “And then you found Nel,” Alex finished.

    “And then I found Nel,” Keahi repeated with a cheerful hum. “Sorry if that was a bit rambley.”

    “It’s fine… gets the question answered,” Alex replied courtly, looking up at the sky again.

    Keahi paused, observing the grovyle’s solemn expression, “y’know, she’s tried really hard to remember you,” zie said after a moment’s hesitance.

    Alex turned back to Keahi and tilted his head slightly, a mixture of confusion and hope in his eyes.

    “She keeps having these, uh, memory dreams that she says are really vague and hard to remember when she wakes up, but I think she kept glimpsing you in them. She keeps trying to draw you but she couldn’t manage just based on the dreams. When I asked about it, she told me that she knew you were important, but she still couldn’t remember who you were, and she looked pretty stressed about it,” Keahi explained slowly.

    Alex took some time to mull over what zie told him in his mind before speaking, “thank you for telling me that,” he finally said, giving the torchic a soft smile again.

    “No problem,” Keahi replied, “you two are pretty close, aren’t you?”

    Alex’s smile grew, “yeah,” he agreed, and then paused. “I think that’s the first time you haven’t referred to our partnership in past-tense,” he chuckled.

    Keahi blinked, “…oh, sorry.”

    “You’re… jealous, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I guess I was too. Or still am a bit. I don’t know, feelings are weird and jealously is annoying,” Alex commented, leaning back slightly on his spot. “Personally, I think my jealously stemmed from the idea that I had been replaced, or that Nel was going to change because of this. But I know now that that isn’t true. Despite her amnesia and turning into a pokemon, she hasn’t changed. And I know she isn’t the kind of person to replace others, even by accident,” he continued, stopping to laugh at himself quietly. “It’s silly when I think about it now. Getting jealous when there was really nothing to be jealous of. You’re a good kid Keahi, the way you defended Nel in Pokemon Square, that was very loyal, and I can tell you care about her. I’m glad that out of all the pokemon that could’ve found her, you did.”

    Keahi was quiet at first, and then suddenly burst into laughter that made Alex straighten up in surprise at the loudness.

    “Sorry! It’s just that you’re right! Arceus, we’re just a couple of jealous idiots,” Keahi laughed, “gosh, we were both worried about who was her ‘real’ partner or the ‘better’ partner, but that doesn’t matter. We can both be her partner, and that’ll be okay!” zie continued, “you’re a pretty cool guy too Alex. You kinda remind me of one of my brothers. It’s refreshing, honestly.”

    Alex chuckled, “thanks. So, we’re good now?”

    “Yeah, we’re good,” Keahi answered, fluffing up zir feathers in the chill air.

    Back inside the house, Nelvana smiled in her half-asleep state. They were finally getting along. Maybe now she could relax enough to go to sleep. She knew they’d come back inside on their own soon enough.

#bonding time #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon red/blue rescue team #pokemon mystery dungeon time/sky/darkness #pmd #pmd au #pokemon mystery dungeon au #galaxies above #team galaxy #nelvana #cubone #human #keahi #torchic #alex #grovyle #gengar #drawing #art #my art #digital art #writing #my writing

[unharmeddrudge]

Staying Up Late

A short story for an RP I’m writing with a friend. Besides writing well, they’re also an amazing artist. I, being unable to draw, have opted to just write a lot. I also need to write more as practice. Thus, this. Nothing heavy, just a domestic fluff for fun.

For context: The Soyuzi are a race of Russian space lizard people. Vokachaian is a human ethnicity. 

The house is quiet. The TV is off, it’s dark out, and no one has entered or left all day. A faint chill gives the house a temperature that makes blankets quite comfortable. The only significant sound comes from the mechanical clock on the wall.

“Drew, it’s almost eleven o’clock.”

“I know, I know, let me… let me just wrap this up. I’m almost done—you go to bed first.”

The half-Soyuzi eyes the translator carefully from a short distance, across the great peaks and valleys of books and papers surrounding the Vokachaian. He isn’t willing to tread that field just yet. It looks as though a printing shop had exploded, with the boy at its epicenter.

“You say that, but…”

“The longer you talk,” the Vokachaian snaps, refusing to look up from his book, “the longer this will take. Just go already.”

The corner of Sasha’s lips twitch irritably. “Fine. Ten minutes, hurry up,” he says, stomping off to the bedroom in a huff.

Lately, Drew had been pushing their regular ten o’clock schedule to unacceptable limits. He’d been too engrossed in the translation of some damn books, enough to make it feel like he was ignoring Sasha. As much as the half-Soyuzi enjoys watching Drew’s passions stir into a fever (especially at night, in bed), he knows all too well that this sort of behavior is a bad habit that only ends up with a sleep-deprived Vokachaian, and possibly also a sick one.

Sasha falls onto the bed. He can lie there as comfortably as he wants, but in the end, he just can’t fucking sleep. Not without him. The room is cold, as Drew always likes it, but it’s uncomfortable to be alone in. The still and quiet chill is so lonely. He stares at the ceiling for a while, complaining about Drew’s slightly workaholic tendencies, among his other faults. In it, though, he remembers some advice his sister-in-law once gave him.

“When he starts to work instead of sleeping, he’s probably upset about something,” Emily had said one night at the Yodrezhka family household having dinner. Drew had left briefly to buy dessert with his mother. “Trust me, I’ve seen it a thousand times. He did for a few days one time when the kids were bullying him at school, making him buy lunch for them.” She sat back, locking her fingers together and turning them outward to crack her knuckles. “Slept fine soon as I dealt with ‘em, heh.” She smiles, confidently throwing her hair back and examining her fingernails. “He’d done it another time when his last boyfriend broke up with him. He’d lent a book to the guy—never got it back, actually.”

Sasha listened amusedly to the bold young girl. He liked her style. “Huh. Yeah, I think word boy’s done that once or twice, I’m pretty sure. Thought he was just a workaholic.”

“Nah, that boy loves to sleep. There’s always something else. Something’ll be bothering him. Though, I guess work could bother him, too.”

“I see… Good to know, little tiger. But how will I… y’know, fix him?” Sasha grinned, waving a hand in the air.

“Well, look, he’s not one to share his problems so easily. I had my way, and it involved locking the room and playing Jamie Lockensteiner until he fessed up. He hated that stuff,” she smiled back.

“Oh, you’re a cruel sister. His music is terrible.”

“Hey, watch it. He was on the top 20 list in 3284, so obviously, you’re wrong,” she pointed threateningly at him. “Anyway, I suggest a slightly different tactic for you. If he ever gets like that: first, pull him outta work. I mean, really pull him out. Make him forget it exists for a moment. By, heh heh, you know—” She elbows the man suggestively, making a ring in one hand and poking the index finger of the other hand through, “—any means necessary… but just before you get down to the nitty-gritty—deny him! Surprise him with questions, make him talk. Hold your ground, and don’t give him anything until he spits it out.”

“I feel like you been reading too many—what’s it called—’doujinshi’ lately, Emily.”

“No, trust me on this! You just gotta surprise him, and be firm about it. Works one-hundred percent of the time. Promise.”

Sasha takes a moment to pause and thoughtfully reflect on Emily’s advice, formulating a plan. She’s a bit of a perv, but she definitely has some good ideas.

He looks at the clock. It’d been eleven minutes already. Man, he’d been lenient with his time. How nice is that? He gets up and walks down the hall.

The translator hasn’t budged. His brows are deeply furrowed, brown eyes staring into a book, probably puzzling over something esoteric and profound. Maybe.

It won’t be easy to transverse the defensive obstacle course of new and ancient documents surrounding the male. Sasha had once tried to simply trample over them—he’d certainly gotten over, but it left him with a distinct bruise on his face and a pain in his groin, as well as the option of sleeping on the couch. Best to avoid that tonight.

Taking a detour, Sasha enters their small kitchen. Coming up with a plan as he went along, he opens a cabinet, finding a large can of Kharzakyt beans.

Perfect.

Returning to his spot across the paper moat in the living room, the half-Soyuzi squats, facing Drew, who appears to be ignoring him. Shitty brat. Opening the can, Sasha picks a bean out, and tosses it.

Drew doesn’t flinch.

Huh. He’s really committed to this, is he?

Sasha tosses another bean. It hits the side of Drew’s face, then falls onto his book.

Drew blinks, brushes the bean away, and continues reading. He picks up a pen, takes a note on a notebook to his right.

Sasha narrows his eyes at the translator, stubborn with a vain and futile resistance. He’ll break that. He grabs a couple more beans and throws them at his target.

Drew pauses in his notetaking, expressionless, as if physically stunned. He looks up slowly at the offender with a displeasure. “...Are those Kharzakyt beans?” he asks quietly.

Sasha answers with a smug grin. “Yah. Gonna do something about it?”

Drew just looks at him for a long moment. Agitated, likely, under that suppressed exterior. That smug motherfucker has no power over me, he thinks. After a while, he shakes his head slowly, and looks back at his book.

It’s too late, though. Sasha’s got Drew caught like a rabbit in a trap. He tosses another handful of beans.

The translator tries not to react. The Kharzakyt beans are making a mess.

The man tosses another handful. And another.

They’re starting to cover the books. The floor around the boy is almost totally hidden.

Finally, with a maniacal smile, Sasha stands, and fucking spikes a handful.

Holy shit. It stings. At his wit’s end, the Vokachaian stands and lunges across the papers and books, missing the half-Soyuzi as he backpedals.

Joyfully, Sasha continues tossing beans at the other while retreating backwards down the hall to the bedroom while Drew clumsily chases after him.

“Who do you think you are, you scaley bastard? I’ll skin you into a fucking wallet!” Drew growls, continually failing to grab the man as he is lured into the bedroom.

Sasha’s thrill ends as he trips onto the bed, where Drew is finally able to jump and grab him.

Sitting on the Soyuzi’s legs, Drew grabs the man's shirt collar and pulls him up close to his face. “You are an enormous pain in the ass,” he hisses.

In contrast to the incensed raven-haired mess, the brunet is barely managing to contain his laughter. He leans forward, capturing the angry lips with his own. He brings a hand up to stroke those tense cheeks with the back of his knuckles. Drew's hands move down to the other's shoulders. They break, with Drew pouting and Sasha smiling. “Oh, kotyenok, you only have self to blame. You make it so fun to mess with you!”

The translator's grimace never softens, though his face surely reddens. “You're a fuckin’ bully.” He grabs the wrist of the hand touching his face, then proceeds to push Sasha down until he's flat on his back, making out with him along the way.

Sasha lets it happen for a while. He's cute when he's all feisty like this! And it feels good, to boot. He doesn't need to put any work in. Drew's hands run through the brunet's hair and over his chest, while Sasha's hands travel across his partner's back and touch his neck, slyly reminding the boy of the many marks there.

Drew is very intense. Very touchy. Feeling around a lot. Quick to take off clothes, but not willing to part lips for very long. He seems desperate. Frantic, even. Like he's still distracting himself. Just like when he was working.

Damn. He’s just replaced with his books with Sasha. It’s no good.

By now, Drew has managed to remove the half-Soyuzi’s shirt and unbutton his own. It would probably be best to stop him now.

Groaning internally, Sasha pulled Drew’s face off his own, sighing. The Vokachaian tries to continue, but ends up simply furrowing his eyes at the other, confused. Soon enough, the taller man grabs the shorter’s hands before flipping their positions around. Drew gets plopped onto his back, hands caught above his head, with Sasha between his legs, leaning over him.

“Okay, enough of that, Dryushka. Gotta talk,” he grumbles reluctantly. Personally, he’s not too happy about stopping, but he knows it’s the quote-unquote “Right Thing to Do.”

“Hey, what the—let go of me,” the Vokachaian whines, trying fruitlessly to free his hands and reach downwards. He’s way too weak, though.

“Come on, shortstack. Hold still. Let’s use our words, yeah?”

Drew stares in confusion at the other for a moment. “...H-huh? Fuck that, I don’t got anything to say. Take off your pants.”

“Not like that, word boy. “You have been skipping bed-time, and you look like you’re trying to ignore me. Is not okay. If something is the matter, you need to tell me.”

“Fuck you.”

“I think you have this backwards.”

“—Fuck me.”

“Right, but no.”

“I—ugh! Why are you so difficult?!” Drew squirms around a bit in another attempt to get free, before deciding to wrap his legs around Sasha’s hips. If he isn’t going to get free, his making the most of where he is right now. “What do you want from me?”

Oh, this cheeky bastard. He’s got some nerve. This is a rather precarious new adjustment, but Sasha isn’t letting up. “L-like… Like I said. I know something is bothering you—spit it out.”

Even in the cold darkness, the Vokachaian’s deepening flush is pretty obvious. “Wh-what? No, you’re… you’re mistaken. Misinterpreting. I’m fine. Let me go.”

Sasha just laughs. “No way. I don’t believe you. Ever heard of… ah… communication? We’re doing that. Now.” He punctuates himself with a prick on the neck with teeth. “So… How was day?”

Drew sucks in air through his teeth, turning away. He doesn’t have to answer a dumb question like this.

The brunet sighs against his partner’s neck. So much trouble. “I thought we’ already worked this whole ‘talking’ thing out.”

The captive Vokachaian doesn’t even squeak.

“Come on, kotyenok. At least look at me.”

He doesn’t budge.

It’s starting to get frustrating. They should be able to talk now! What could possibly be so troubling? So embarrassing?

“Say something, Drew. Honestly—there is no one else here, so whatever it is… you can tell me,” he coaxes in a firm, slightly impatient, yet reassuring voice. “Just tell me.”

Silence. Cold and hard silence with unhappy lips pressed firmly closed.

Sasha shakes his head. He might just have to give up. Can’t force anything.

“...’s stupid…”

“Huh?” The brunet’s eyes widen. The boy has spoken.

“I said it’s dumb… Don’t worry about it…” Drew still won’t look Sasha in the eye, but he’s certainly finding the blank darkness around them quite entertaining.

Sasha smiles once again, bringing their foreheads close together. “Why are you so embarrassed? If it bothers you so much, I have to care about it.”

“I told you it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” Sasha exclaims, releasing Drew’s hands to embrace his torso. The freed hands end up on Sasha’s back. "You just don’t want to tell me because you’re afraid I’ll make fun of you.”

“Won’t you?” Drew mutters, looking wistfully out the window.

“I will. But it’ll be good for you.”

They lie like that for a while. It’s warm and comfortable, at least. The cold air lets them enjoy each other’s heat without getting all sweaty, though they still got sweaty for other reasons.

Finally, Drew sighs, looking down at the half-Soyuzi. “Alright, alright…” He looks very cute and flustered from this angle. “There was… a book at the convention last week. I wanted it, but I couldn’t afford it. Someone else took it… and… yeah.”

Sasha laughs quietly running a hand through the other’s messy black hair. “Oh, you poor, entitled brat, you. Now was that so hard?”

“It was, and my life has depreciated because of it,” he mutters, pouting. “This is why I didn’t care to tell you, you piece of shit.”

“Oh, but it meant so much to you! All week long… It’s okay Drew. I guess I feel sorry for you.” Sasha rises once more, giving Drew a kiss as a reward for his honesty and bravery. “And look, see—I’ll make you feel better.”

“As if. I’m not in the mood anymo-more—” Drew says before a shiver from Sasha’s touch cuts him off. “...Oh, h-holy shit, I guess I am.”

#writing #original #short story

[lxiewrites]

Embrace the Gay

Prompt from @bleusarcelle crabs and tomatoes

Inspiration from @ciuucalata who refuses to let my crab dream die 

Context: I dreamt that I was being chased by a giant crab before I knew about this video and Ellie hasn’t stopped teasing me since. Lance is like 90% her.

Lance was already up when his phone rang at 2:38AM.

He groped for the cell lost to the mountains and folds of his blankets, rummaging through until he felt the familiar shape. Bringing the too bright screen to his face he stared into what was causing his insomnia.

The contact photo was of the boy with a stupidly cute pout on his face. He took it sneaky-like. This boy just did not like pictures. He remembered that it was when they were studying for the upcoming math test. He was staring at the study guide like it would give him the secrets of the world, a cute little pout on his lips. It was a pretty good picture all in all. He got the angle perfectly catching his jawline that could probably cut glass. The light streaming through illuminated him like a fucking halo and lighting his purple eyes like amethysts. His friend, his buddy, his pal, his BFFL (best friend for life)… his apparently gay best friend? Keith Kogane.

It was just a few weeks ago that Keith came out to him. It would’ve been very heartfelt and touching, a perfect Hallmark moment, if Lance didn’t eat those three bean burritos for lunch and farted right after. But it was fine, Keith had got to have known Lance would accept him for who he was. Just like how Lance knew he could come out to him that he was bi three months earlier.

The problem was…now Keith is gay… and he’s been having some issues… with feelings.

Keith wasn’t exactly his bi awakening but Lance never really let himself think of his best friend in that way. Don’t fall for a straight boy, his sister told him. But what if that straight boy is now gay and he has some minor chance in hell?

No. Nope, nu-uh, not happening. What if Keith thought he was just using him? What if he thought it was creepy? What if he rejected him? What if it made their friendship all awkward and weird? What if he didn’t like him anymore?

What if he lost him?

He always thought falling in love with your best friend the greatest thing ever. The movies made it seem so natural and magical but this isn’t the movies.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. He would just continue on like normal.

He pressed the answer button. “What’s up, Mullet?” he rasped, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“Lance,” Keith’s voice was scratchy too. “I had a fucking weird dream.”

Lance chuckled, putting an arm behind his head as he relaxed for the tale. “You do realize it’s two AM right?”

“I had a really fucking weird dream,” the sleepy boy mumbled. He must be still half asleep. Lance ignored the swooping in his stomach at the thought of being the instinctive first person Keith told.

“Okay, okay, what was it?”

“I was chased by a giant crab.”

“….Pffftttt, what?”

“Giant crab,” he slurred, “chasing me on its little feet things. Skittering. Skkkssshhh, skkkksssshhhh, ssskkkkkssshhhhh.” Lance pressed his mouth into his shoulder to muffle his laugh. Sleepy tired Keith is the best Keith. He could almost imagine him being rolling over all cute, rubbing his eyes and poking Lance in the side to mumble something about giant crab, hair all floofed out. No, no, bad Lance! “It was chasing me and I couldn’t move but it never caught me but it was still chasing me.”

God, he was ridiculous at this stage, he’d believe anything. One time he Lance called him early in the morning and demanded why he wasn’t in class. It was Saturday. He was so pissed when he got to school only to see it closed except for the janitor.

…Aw, he was mean, he was so mean. He was gonna do it. Keith was gonna kill him but he’s gonna do it. “Hold on, buddy! I have a dream book!” He reached over to grope along the floor for a random book. He heaved his literacy book onto his lap.

“Why the fuck do you have a dream book?”

He flipped through the pages, pretending to look for the meaning of crabs. “I’m allowed to have interests. Don’t judge.” His response was a muffled grumble.

He couldn’t help but smile. He gasped, loudly and dramatically. He could hear the shifting of the covers on the other side of the phone and the sleepy hum. “It says here you’re gay!”

”What?” More rustling.

“Yeah, yeah! The crab means you’re gay because it represents sexuality because it doesn’t know which way it—And! You were running from it which means you’re running from your gay!”

”What the f—“

“Were there loafers?”

“…No, not re—“

“It emphasizes the gay!”

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

“And the lightning makes it super, ultra, mega gay!”

There was a beat, bed creaking. “Oh my fucking god; I’m gay.”

“Looks like, goodnight buddy!”

“Yeah…g’night…”

Lance hung up the phone, rolling over onto his stomach to hide his smile in the pillow. He waited a second… two…

The phone lit up with his pouty face. Snickering he accepted and brought the phone up to his—

“WAIT A FUCKING SECOND!”

Lance burst into laughter despite knowing he might wake up his parents and siblings.

-

“Hey, guys,” Keith greeted when he sat down at the lunch table, late as usual but thankfully before Hunk came. Pidge nodded with a short “’Sup,” but didn’t look up from the notes she was furiously scribbling. Lance shot him a shit-eating grin from where he stood, hovering over Pidge, at least until he saw his lunch.

Making a face Lance stuck out his tongue. “Bleh, how can you eat that? What even is it?” He leaned bodily over Pidge to peer closer at his lunch. Pidge didn’t react other to than let herself be flattened into the table, still writing. “Chicken? Beans?” He paused, lip twitching. “Crab?”

Keith slammed his tray on the table, lunch clattering, mysterious lunch spilling, and pointed an aggressive finger at him. “YOU SHUT YOUR FUCK!”

Lance burst out laughing while Pidge finally stopped writing and stared at Keith in confusion. She then looked at Lance and deadpanned, “What did you do.”

Still laughing Lance tried to look as affronted as he could with a grin on his face. Hand to his heart he gasped past his giggles, “Why do you think I did something?”

Keith pouted and kicked Lance under the table while sitting at the table like the talented motherfucker he is. “That’s because you did do something.”

“I helped you embrace your inner gay!”

“I’m already gay!”

“What does any of this have to do with crabs?!” Pidge yelled, arms spread out encompassing the what-the-fuckness of the situation. Her hands landed on the table with a thump before looking at Keith mouth agape and eyes wide behind her glasses. “Oh my god, you have crabs.”

“No!” he shouted.

Lance proceeded to die on the dirty floor of the cafeteria. He stood up again, kissing Pidge on the top of her head while avoiding the hand she flung out. “Then what the fuck, man!”

Keith planted his face in his hands and groaned. Lance decided to be the good guy his is and explain the entire situation. “Keith had a hentai dream with crabs—“ He yelped as a dinner roll nailed him in the face. Keith’s face was deadly, already armed with another roll. Lance tore a bite out of the roll out of spite before starting over and because he’s a masochist… “Fine, he had a dream about me with Sebastian the crab—“ And there was the second roll.

Pidge was snickering off to the side as Keith crossed his arms with a pout and a red face. “Okay,” Pidge said after she calmed down. “But we need to actually work on what we’re doing for Hunk’s birthday before he gets here.”

“Stop goofing around, Keith! We need to make this perfect for my best friend!”

“You’re the one—!” He huffed and planted his chin on his fist not looking at them. “Forget it,” he mumbled.

“Okay,” Pidge said, finishing her notes with a flourish. Tearing off a section she handed Lance the paper. “Lance, you got making dinner, this is the recipe. Keith, you got buying the decorations. Allura’s baking the cake and Shiro is making sure that Hunk gets there surprised.”

“And what will you be doing, Pidge?” Keith drawled, accepting his piece of paper.

“Uh, I’m the master genius of this plan? Duh. And I’m building him a computer so I’d shut up if I were you crabby.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

Keith grabbed a spoonful of the mysterious meat, relishing in the screams of horror from his two so-called friends.

-

Lance browsed the aisles, list held loosely between his fingers. The cart clattered as his partner dumped his items into the basket.

“Okay,” Keith started, “that’s the decorations, I might need to get a balloon pump or something.”

Lance held a hand over his heart and looked at him over his shoulder. “Buddy, my man, my pal, my lung capacity is amazing, save yo monies.”

Keith huffed in amusement and crossed his arms. “Fine, but I’m not driving you to the hospital when you have to blow up one hundred twenty balloons.”

“One hundre—bro! That is an excessive amount of balloons! Why so many?”

Keith raised his brows at him as if to say are you serious? “Don’t you want to make a balloon arch?” He sorted through his items with a distracted hand and murmured, “We might need to get more balloons actually.”

Lance stopped his browsing, shoved the list in his jacket pocket, and turned around, deadpanned look on his face. “We are not making a balloon arch, Keith.”

His brows furrowed and he pouted his stupid cute pout. “Why not?”

“Uh, because they’re tacky as hell? Nuh-uh, Hunk would not want a stupid balloon arch that he’d have no use for.”

“You don’t know, he could love it.”

“I am his best friend, I think I’d know whether or not Hunk would want a balloon arch for his birthday.”

“Well have you asked?”

“Why the hell would I ask if he liked balloon arches?”

“Well, why not?”

”Why would that be in an everyday conversation?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?’

”Oh my fucking God,” Lance groaned, trying not to laugh. He forced the corners of his lips down but it probably only served him to look more ridiculous. He shook his head, mildly alarmed when his bangs brushed Keith’s. He didn’t realize how close they got in their argument, foreheads almost touching.

The color was high in Keith’s cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice their proximity, only squinting his indigo eyes at him. Lance stood up straight, adding much-needed distance between their faces. He could feel his face become warm as he coughed into his fist before planting it on his hip.

“Well, when it’s your birthday we’ll make a balloon arch for you.”

Keith’s not wrinkled in a mock grimace, the slightest tilt to his lips and smiling eyes. “Ew, no, balloon arches are tacky.”

Lance lunged forward with a battle cry. Keith barely dodged those long arms, laughing as he ducked under flailing limbs, but he wasn’t quick enough to escape grabby fingers that latched onto his jacket collar.

He squirmed and escaped his jacket, leaving him in his black T-shirt he spun around to grab it but Lance yanked it out of his reach. Lance glared down at Keith, smirk dancing across his face. “HA!”

“Lance, give me my jacket.”

“Uh, how about no.”

”Lance,” Keith growled.

”Keith.”

Keith lunged for it but he was stopped when Lance used his foot to kick the cart in front of him like a shield. Keith rubbed at his stomach where it scraped against him and glared. “I could climb you if I wanted.”

Lance gasped, turned his head, and placed the back of his hand to his mouth like some anime schoolgirl. He said in an exaggerated breathy voice, “Save it for the bedroom.”

Keith turned bright red and bit his lip. Damn, sometimes Lance wondered if Keith knew of his crush and did these things just to torment him. He wants to take that bitten lip and kiss it better. Run his tongue—

“Fine,” Keith spat.

Fine? Fine what?

Keith held out his hand. “At least give me your jacket to keep warm, it’s like fifty degrees out.”

Wait, what? Keith wants to wear his jacket??

Lance scrutinized him. Does he know what he’s asking? The implication? It’s unlikely because it’s Keith. Keith who’s as oblivious to social cues and unsaid gestures as he is to the concepts of cheers. He looked almost bored, maybe expectant, hand out and wiggling his fingers.

It’s Keith; of course he wouldn’t get it.

But even if Keith didn’t know did not mean that Lance couldn’t get a little excited at seeing Keith in his jacket. Hisjacket. All cute and snuggly and warm in his jacket. He sighed, at the situation or himself he didn’t really know but he shucked off his jacket, still keeping his hand on Keith’s before draping it over the extended palm.

Keith pushed his arms through and oh good gravy it was too big on him. Only the tips of his fingers stuck out of the sleeves. He adjusted the jacket around his shoulders a pleased hum in the back of his throat. “It’s really warm.”

Did he die? Did Lance die in the canned food aisle due to the cuteness overload?

Covering how flustered he was sure he was he shoved on Keith’s jacket. The sleeves slightly too short, they didn’t even cover his wrists, and if it was a cropped jacket on Keith it fell only to his ribs.

“How the hell do you stay warm in this? This is, like, nothing. Keith, buddy, we need to get you a proper jacket.”

“Thanks, but I got one.”

Lance glared at him, still trying to make the jacket work around his shoulders. It didn’t. He took it off and tied it around his waist. “You’re a little shit.”

A chuckle was his only answer. “What else do you need?”

Lance turned around to go back to scanning the canned goods. “Mmm, I still need tomatoes… and crab.”

He flinched when a hard punch landed on his shoulder. “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder and pouting at the glaring boy next to him.

“Good!” his so-called friend said before hitting him again.

“Will you—ow! Stop, dude! Will you stop? Ow, stop hitting me! We really do need it, check the list!”

The hits slowed, but Keith got one more swat to his stomach before reaching in to look at the ingredient list. “What the fuck are you even making?”

Lance snatched the list out of Keith’s hands and shoved it in his pants pocket. “Gordon Ramsey’s crab spaghetti, I wouldn’t ruin my best bud’s birthday with your weird gay crab dream.” He set his hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezed. “Just accept your gay, Keith.”

“I’m already gay!”

“That’s why it’s hilarious!”

Keith crossed his arms grumbling. Pouting, he turned slightly away from him and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

Keith side-eyed him. “I thought I was your best friend.”

Lance bit his lip to keep from smiling too big. Keith was really going to kill him one day. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him to his side. “You’re more than my best friend, Keith.”

Keith looked up at him, those starry eyes sucking him in like no other. Ignoring his heart rate he smirked. “You’re my BFFL.”

Keith’s expression fell flat. “Oh my God.”

-

“Sauté! Sauté! Oh my God! What are you doing?!”

“Stop telling me what to do, Keith! I’m not taking advice from someone who reduces everything to ash!” Lance bumped Keith out of the way as he reached for a spatula. Stirring the quickly charring onions and garlic he screamed at Keith to tell him the next step in the instructions.

“Pour in the white wine and reduce it.”

“Reduce it? Reduce it to what? Water? I’m not Jesus!”

Keith laughed. “You know what that means you fucking nerd!”

Lance poured the wine in a steady stream; the pan sizzled loudly. He darted a look at Keith who was biting a corner of his lip to keep from smiling. Lance allowed himself to second or two at looking at him before gasping loudly. “You kiss your gay crab with that mouth?!”

Keith slammed his hand on the counter, pointing the other at him threateningly. “I swear to god Lance if you mention that crab dream one more time I’ll shank you.”

Lance laughed, stirring the dish in front of him. “But it’s so funny!”

“I told you I was gay a few months ago!”

“And this was just a manifestation of your gayness. Embrace your inner gay, Keith.”

A hand fisted in his shirt and brought him down a couple of inches to look into the glowering face of Keith Kogane. “I. Have. Embraced. My. Gay.” he growled.

Lance gulped, staring into those furious violet eyes. They were so close he could count nearly every single star placed in those eyes. The tips of their noses brush with every inhalation. Only a few centimeters of air kept him from taking that plump bottom lip between his own.

Any moment. Any minute now Keith was going to pull away and bring him back to reality. He was going to back up and threaten him to stop it with the crab jokes and Lance was going to laugh it off and go back to stirring. He was going to reduce the wine before he forgot himself and do something stupid.

Except Keith wasn’t backing away. The grip on his shirt lightened but still kept him right where he was. And he didn’t try too hard to step back. His breaths were shallow as he tried to keep from looking at the lips that were so temptingly close. His eyelids drooped and he tilted his head down the slightest bit.

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!!!

“Oh, fuck!” Lance lunged the burning dish to the sink, turning on the tap.

He turned around to see Keith climbing on the counter of the marble island reaching up to swipe at the fire alarm. He jumped slightly to get closer, heel coming dangerously close to the edge.

“Get down from there! You’re gonna hurt yourself!” Lance shouted, marching over. He coughed when he inhaled a lungful of black smoke from the burnt food. Keith was still trying to get at the smoke alarm but was just barely too short, fingers brushing but not enough to actually grab it and turn it off. Lance wrapped his arms around his hips, bracing himself for the shift of weight while he prepared to pick the Korean boy up.

“Hey!”

Lance dropped him to the side, shoving him in the direction of the window. “Open up the windows, I’ll get the smoke alarm!”

Climbing on top of the counter he could easily reach with his long limbs. He could hear Keith grumbling about unfair height advantages but he still opened the window, the cold bite of winter air nipping at any bare skin available.

Alarm quiet and smoke drifting lazily out the window Lance hopped down. He went to grab a towel to help flap the smoke out, ignoring the self-satisfied look Keith gave him.

“Who was it that turns everything to ash?”

“Oh, shut up, Keith.”

-

“SURPRISE!”

The lights came on and everyone came out of their hiding places. Leaping out at a surprised Hunk who looked close to tears.

“You guys! I can’t believe you did this!”

“Of course buddy!” Lance said, sauntering over, wrapping an arm around him. “Only the best for you buddy!”

Hunk leaned down and in a hushed tone murmured to Lance, “Okay but the cake…”

“Allura.”

Hunk breathed a sigh of relief, hand to his heart. “Oh thank God. Who made dinner?”

“Uuhh, you see, Keith and I just helped each other with our—“

“You guys burnt it didn’t you. Lance! What have I told you guys about cooking?! If it’s not perfect it’s not leaving the kitchen!”

“W-well, I kicked him out of the kitchen and then it was fine!”

“Hey, I resent that,” Keith said coming over, giving the big guy a hug. “Lance burned it without my help.”

“Uh, you totally were the reason why the food burned Mr. Crabs-for-brains.”

“Crabs?” Hunk asked.

“Keith has crabs,” Pidge said shoving Keith out of the way to leap at Hunk, hugging him. “Don’t worry I kept Shiro away from any cooking,” she whispered.

“I don’t have crabs!”

“You just dream of them.”

Keith covered his face and groaned in his hands.

“Do we need to have a talk about safe sex?” Shiro teased, ignoring Keith’s shout. He leaned over and hugged Hunk. “Happy birthday, Hunk.”

Allura hugged him next. “I made your favorite cake.” She stepped back and smiled. “Happy birthday, Hunk.”

“Happy birthday!” they all chorused.

It was a little while later when Hunk cornered Lance in the kitchen on a mission to retrieve more cake that he started teasing him. “So you and Keith, huh,” he said with a smug smile.

“Yeeess,” Lance drawled, “what of it?”

“Have you two been…sitting in a tree lately?” Lance groaned and pushed Hunk’s smirking face away from him. He cut a large slice from the freaking three-tiered cake that Allura baked, mussing the passion fruit frosting on the transfer to his plate.

”No, we haven’t.” He scraped off the extra frosting off the knife.

“Who hasn’t what?” Keith asked, hitching a thumb behind him. “And how long does it take to get a piece of cake? Pidge is setting up the video game system.”

“Oh! That’s my cue to go!” Hunk exclaimed rushing out. “Pidge! It’s my birthday, I have the right to call dibs!”

Both boys chuckled at the distant fight over characters. “So who hasn’t what?” Keith asked, leaning against the counter.

“Oh, just—hey! Get your own frosting! We’re just talking about how you haven’t accepted your gayness yet.”

“I was already gay, Lance! That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Keith. Keith, Keith, Keith. Keith. My man, that’s exactly why it’s funny,” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are gay but you haven’t accepted your gay.” He placed a hand on his heart doing his best to keep a neutral face. “That’s why you had the crab dream, I’m glad I was able to help your gay awakening, Keith.”

“Lance,” Keith growled, he gripped his shirtfront and got right up into Lance’s face. “You were my gay awakening!”

As soon as Keith said it he looked horrified, letting go of his shirt and backing up slightly.

Lance’s mouth was still agape as his mind tried to catch up to his ears, hands still suspended in the air. Before Keith could turn and run he reached out and grabbed his shoulder, hand fisting in the material of his jacket. “Wha-what?” The words died in his throat. He tried again. “What did you just say?”

“I didn’t—I—I mean—“

“You said I was your gay awakening,” Lance said, still dazed. “Like, how? As in you find me attractive or…”

“I— I…” Keith looked off to the side searching for an escape but didn’t move. “I find you attractive but also I just…” He sighed and looked him in the eye, violet eyes determined but a softness was there. Something that could get hurt if handled roughly. “I have a crush on you. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. But I didn’t really think about it until you told me you were bi. It wasn’t even something conscious I was just, ‘I have a chance’. But this is just weird. It’s weird, right? It’s stupid and gonna mess up our friendship and can we just for—“

Lance didn’t even realize he moved, only that Keith was rambling and being so unsure of himself was so out of character that he somehow had to stop it. Next thing he knew he was cupping Keith’s face and kissing him. Taking those soft lips and slotting them between his own. Soft kisses and a gentle grip allowing him to back off if he wanted. Keith sighed into his mouth and only got closer, arms encircling his neck as he lined his body up with his.

Lance groaned parted from him, chest warming from how Keith chased him. Slowly Keith opened his eyes, licking his lips as if he could still taste Lance on his lips. He looked up at him, brow furrowed, lips still wet from kissing. “Was that out of pi—mmph.”

Keith wrenched his head back, pout on his lips. “Stop that. Just answer me if—mmph.”

Keith allowed the kiss for a few seconds before jabbing Lance in the stomach with a pointy finger. He glared at him, trying to maintain the stern composure but Lance could see a laugh fraying the edges of his expression. “Just give me an answer you dork!”

“I keep kissing you! Doesn’t that give you the answer!?” Lance laughed. He rested his forehead against Keith’s. “Listen, I liked you for a long time. I don’t really know for how long but I know I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you or even hold your hand. Especially, after you told me you were gay. I thought I finally had a chance too.”

“…Well, I guess that answers my question.”

They burst into giggles, still holding the other close. A voice popped the bubble they put themselves in. “Hey, are you guys coming out of the kitchen anytime soon? We’re already on the third round!”

They looked at each other and smiled. “We’re coming!” Lance called. Keith grabbed his hand with a small smile, leading them out to the others.

“Wait! My cake!”

-

Lance was already awake when his phone rang at 2:40AM. Though for far better reasons than last time.

He answered. “Hey, babe, weird dream?”

He heard a gentle murmur over the phone and the rustle of the covers. “Not too weird this time,” he whispered, smile in his voice. “This time I had a weird dream about being in Goodwill and shopping for flannel. I actually got a good one before I woke up and realized it was a dream.”

“You dreamed about getting flannel?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed, more sounds of him getting comfortable under the covers.

He was quiet, waiting for the breaths of his boyfriend to gentle, a steady in and out right before he fell asleep. “That’s really gay.”

A long and loud groan muffled in a pillow was his answer. “Don’t you fucking start.”

“Your dream self finally accepted your gay.”

“Lance, you’re my boyfriend. OF COURSE I’M GAY!” In the background, he could hear the creaking of a door and the soft sound of someone else speaking. “Yeah, sorry Shiro, I’ll keep loud gay revelations to myself, sorry.” The sound of the door closing. “See what you done.”

Lance snickered into the back of his hand. “Aw, come on. You love me.”

“Can’t even tell you about any kind of dream without it going back to the crabs,” he muttered. He heaved a great sigh and Lance heard the smile in his voice. “I do. Love you, I suppose.”

Lance felt his chest fill with warm butterflies. “Good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grinned. “Try not to wake up too crabby.”

”RRRAAAAHHH!!” The door opened again followed by a tired, “Keith, please.”

“Sorry, Shiro.”

Ao3

#VLD #lex writes #klance #keith #Lance #my dream #gay awakening #crabs

[blu-b]

Cornish funny farm, a review (Poldark S3 E8)

I usually don’t do this kind of comment / summary, but after today’s episode let me chime in with a few things….

Behind a cut, for reasons.

Ross & Elizabeth 3.0: Oh finally, those two get to talk in private, and like adults. Yay! Now everything will be rectified…right? Right?

Ooooh far from it! They talk and talk and…. never come to the actual point?? Elizabeth hints at Valentine’s parentage, Ross asks if he’s his, Elizabeth says she doesn’t know - cue a brief hysterical fit where Ross accuses her of not wanting to tell (to what point and purpose should she?? Also Ross, mate, if you have any basic knowledge of how reproduction works, you’d know that this is not an exact science, at least not in your times), Elizabeth once again defending herself for something that is not her fault, Ross wanting to know what exactly George suspects…and the conversation starts all over again. Hello?? Get to the fucking POINT, people!

OK Ross basically apologizing for what he did was VERY relieving, as was seeing that they still have some sort of fondness for each other, albeit a sad one; but what was that bullshit about “never injure the woman I loved” - remember you kicked in her door and broke into her bedroom? Also, I’m not a fan of his borderline aggression when he says “You WON’T tell!”…too many bad memories of that one night™ .

And then, the weirdest and wildest thing ever: So the only way to save her marriage to George is by “giving him another child” and make it look like it’s premature as well. “When there’s some confusion about the date…” Yes Ross, really, are you happy to help out again?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME, DEBBIE H.?? What’s this bumfuckery?? Why is Ross suggesting such a thing to her?? I can’t believe it…I was literally yelling at the TV like: “Ross…..Roooooss…..no, you didn’t..ROSSSSS ROOOOSSS NOO ROSS!!” What in fuck’s name did I just witness???? This can’t be serious. I’m still speechless.

Also, Ross, your many “all in good friendship” kisses to Elizabeth’s face are cute, but did you check if she really wants that? No? Ah, I’m smelling a pattern here. 

And, what’s all that guesswork about who told George of their night together? 

R: Have you never hinted to him….? E: How could I?? But maybe you said something to him….? R: Asjsalmnkbjamff!!! E: Oh, but who could have told him? Hmmmmm. Who else was in the house….. ………… ……….. ……….. Both, looking ominously out to the graveyard: ………………..could it be? Agatha….?

I mean, how stupid is that? Agatha basically told Elizabeth on her dying bed (stool) that she had spilled the beans to George, so…..dafuq?

I liked what they did with Ross “confessing” his feelings to Demelza, it explains a lot about his later actions and why he’s trying to hard to stick to his promise. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t say it in the end - of course he should, but for his character development it’s not important whether he says it out loud or just in his head; the main thing is that he has reached that conclusion and is coming to terms with his own feelings that were so unclear to him not too long ago. I really like season 3 Ross so far with the exception of the above examples, so yeah…there’s still hope.

Insert obligatory timeline glitch: “And for the first time in years, we talked. ” - Ross meaning Elizabeth. Ummm. Years? Valentine is like what, 2 years old? And there was that incident with the horses at the cliffs, he spoke to Elizabeth there, albeit briefly, but he did speak to her. “For the first time in years” makes it sound like they haven’t talked for a decade. Meanwhile, Jeremy Poldark has aged one day. 

So, back to the talk. So the plan is to seduce poor George every day so that no one can tell exactly when a possible new baby was conceived? Very clever. Good luck with that.

Speaking of George….and ok yeah I’m biased here, but still….my poor precious darling boy! :’( The small victory of the election is tarnished by his family affairs. He so wants to believe little Valentine is his, but he just can’t get over old Agatha’s cruel words. Played to perfection by Jack, the internal struggles of a man who doesn’t know if he’s being lied to by the woman he loves, or has just been led on by an old woman’s spite. I liked to see that his nervous little habits increase, and it’s also quite telling in this context that it’s George who first loses his nerve in the dispute with Ross, not the other way round as usual (note to self: I do love when George results to cursing, shouting, or a threatening purr ^^). And that image of him sitting alone in his carriage almost broke my heart :-(

What was stupid though was that they put the confrontation in after Ross spoke to Elizabeth. He knows that George is suspicious of her and of Valentine’s parentage, and still he says something stupid like “…and so is her son!” - meaning Geoffrey Charles, of course, but it’s just such a cheap and obvious way of creating suspense. George very obviously and understandably thinks Ross is - in anger - referring to Valentine, and how can he not think that? Ross of course doesn’t say it with that intention, but it’s just stupid because he usually either says “Francis’ son” (because that’s what makes GC a Poldark in the first place), or simply “Geoffrey Charles”, not “Elizabeth’s son”. It would have made A LOT more sense to put this BEFORE the conversation with Elizabeth, so that Ross actually realizes that he has said something incredibly stupid to George and put Elizabeth under even more suspicion. The way it is, it’s just another cheap “Poldark vs. Warleggan” moment.

Then, Demelza. I almost felt sorry for her when yet another man tells her “You’re not perfect, but I’m not looking for perfection anyway…” - like seriously? Is Hugh actually getting her with the same superficial crap that Ross told her? Ugh. Don’t get me wrong, Hugh is cute and I like him, but I’m not sure I like / understand the way his attraction to her is portrayed. It’s all a bit too obvious and too much and…well, yeah. I don’t really care enough to delve deeper into it.

Morwenna’s storyline is finally getting a bit interesting, after endless hours of her looking at Drake like a moon calf and swooning over some flowers and standing at the window looking longingly out to…whatever. Worse that what they did to Elizabeth in s2, imho. She still doesn’t do much but sit there and suffer, but this time I’ve actually shed a tear for her because I’m finally beginning to feel a bit more for this character than just “ugh…!”.

Also, I get that Osborne is a horrible man that we shouldn’t come to like, but I’ve got to admit that he does have some comical moments, and especially perfect timing, so kudos to Christian Brassington for this portrayal.

Also, I kind of like Rowella. I wasn’t too into any of the “young generation” and I still don’t care a damn for Sam Carne and his what’s-her-face, and neither for Drake for that matter, but the way Rowella plays the fat vicar’s vices is kind of entertaining (and makes one wonder why her sister never thought of similar tricks, but she was possibly too busy looking out the window…). 

Final conclusion: Almost every marriage in Cornwall is beyond botched.

One ray of light though, Dwight. Dwight is always right. Hahaha, I loved how he stuck it to fat Ossie ^^ But in general, he and Caroline don’t get nearly enough screen time in this season. 

Elizabeth was again reduced to little else but holding Valentine and looking ominous, but I did love how in two scenes she got to actually decide something for herself, and how she takes on responsibility, not only of Morwenna, but in general. She seems more like the lady of the house now and issues commands, and she’s not afraid to use the differences in their rank to put Osborne into his place. Well done, lovely lady! *applauds* Also, I like how her feelings for George seem to have developed into something more than convenience.

Finally though, Ross and Demelza. Oh my. What a clusterfuck of bullshit. It all boils down to:

“My heart will always and forever belong to you…but, actually, trying out another man for a day would be kinda cool, and once I did that I’ll happily return to you and go on as if nothing happened, also btw you cheated on me so you are morally obliged to grant me this favour." 

Wow. Kudos to Ross for his self-control and his patience with her. I’m not getting into the discussion whether cheating out of revenge is okay or not, and neither into any other for that matter, and while I admit that Ross has some horrible flaws and did abysmal things in the past, he’s trying so hard this season, especially with Demelza. That he makes a few remarks the like of “Not every man in Cornwall is in love with you” doesn’t really come as a surprise after the Fucky McMustache episode, but all in all and given that it’s Ross we’re speaking of, he’s basically snuggly as a kitten. Whereas my understanding for Demelza shrinks with every episode since season 2 tbh. OK so he doesn’t write her poems, so what? He doesn’t care what dress colour she wears, so what? She could be stuck in a FAR worse marriage with a far worse man (think Osborne), and also some of her antics are really rather pointless and just feel like random bitching because she doesn’t get what she wants (a large part of which seems to be the “ploughing” of a certain “field” if I’m reading this correctly; at least that seems to be what the script is hinting at). 

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that they’re working through a difficult time in their marriage, and both of them are not easy persons, but - citing the books - all of this is about eventually understanding that there’s more to love and marriage than what convention teaches us and that in order to understand a partner and truly love them, you need to let go of them sometimes. And there would have been so many more ways to bring that across in film, instead of having Demelza be randomly angry with Ross and paying him back by cheating with the next best man who babbles romantic nonsense at her. 

This was one of the more powerful episodes in s3, and still the overall feeling I’m left with is one of being sorry for all the persons who’d deserve more happiness than what they’re currently getting: Elizabeth & George, Morwenna & Drake, and Ross….

Oohooo and edit: No Ross, Elizabeth is actually not "the only person" who can do something about this spiderweb of lies you're both entangled in (especially not by telling another lie!). YOU could walk up to George and tell him face to face that Elizabeth is innocent, that you slept with his fiancée against her will and that you're sorry for what you did, and if Valentine should turn out to come after you, that you'll help support the child (even though George and Elizabeth surely don't need the money). That would come very close to a suicide mission, but it would be honest for once and you'd not be using Elizabeth to cover up your own mistakes.

#poldark spoilers #spoilers #poldark season 3 #not tagging this with poldark or character names because i don't wanna be sucked into fandom bullshit #my review #basically a rant #this is me just blurting out my first impressions #I need to see this again in order to appreciate it

[hornyswaggler-blog]

When your body has been well and truly fucked but the person responsible for it will NEVER see their fault

Back in 2016 I dated this guy and you could say I fell really bloody hard for the them. Flash forward to about August, I got really really sick. I'm talking I had a cold, tonsilitis, glandular fever, and something I never wanted HSV, OH and I had my period 🙃.

So I had never had any of the symptoms for HSV, I was a clean little bean.(context: I had asked my then partner if he ever got cold sores or ulcers, he said yes but wasn't sure which-- this was at the beginning of the relationship). Well the aforementioned me being sick was only because my partner was aswell. So I got a cold, tonsilitis, glandular fever, along with the HSV.

See i would never have this if I didn't give into him pleading with me so that he could go down on me. I was hesitant and it was because he was sick or getting over his cold.

Low and behold, HSV.

Now my bodies never been the same since I get sick really easily, my immune system is no longer as strong as it once was and worst of all, I STAYED WITH THAT F*** EVEN THOUGH HE'D GIVEN ME THIS.... Ohhhh!! And then he left, because you can not have a partner while at University, or be stuck with the one girl your entire life, and being only a YEAR younger then me he had to get some inbetween before he settled down.

But the reason I'm writing this is because I was vigilant, I was wary, but I'm freaking the hell down right this instance because I've given it to someone else and it is not ok!!! I feel horrible, terrible..

#i want to disappear #could not be more sorry #this is one reason why i regret being adopted

[eelgibbortech-blog]

Client management the Mad Men way, with infographic (July 2017)

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This July, we celebrate the 10th anniversary of the premier of season 1, episode 1 of Mad Men, the 1960s era show that validated and united everyone who’s worked in advertising.

Ten years later, we’re still nostalgically sharing marketing insights coined by Don Draper and consoling ourselves with Roger Sterling’s account management axioms:

“My father used to say this is the greatest job in the world except for one thing: the clients.”

Ahh… the double-edged sword of clients.

Despite his mastery of persuasion, Don Draper couldn’t handle client management on his own. After losing the Hilton account, he confessed:

“I can sell ideas, but I’m not an account man.”

If even Don couldn’t hack it, what hope is there for the rest of us who are trying to manage clients and creative work sans account team? Well here’s the thing – Don may not have been an account man, but he was surrounded by some really good ones. And there’s plenty we can do with what they shared in Mad Men’s seven seasons.

So I’ve assigned myself the oh-so-difficult job of binge-watching Mad Men to collect these 5 lessons on account management. They’re good for the 21st century, too. And perfect even if you’re in a creative agency of one.

1. “Stop writing down what I ask for, and try to figure out what I want”

Application: Learn about your clients’ desires, culture and communication styles.

Remember the scene? Heinz baked beans could not be satisfied. They rejected every creative approach presented, and they were getting tired of saying no. Peggy met their specific requests, but had failed to understand their desires.

(Image source)

In your role as a copywriter, you need to get inside the heads of your target audience.

In your role as account manager, you need to get inside the head of your client.

Readers of Copy Hackers know that you can learn a lot about your target audience from review mining. This is much harder to do when you have an audience of one, and when you’ve never met that person IRL. Here are some tricks to make it a bit easier to figure out what your client wants.

Use social profiles to connect (but don’t be creepy about it)

It’s not always easy to discover your clients’ interests outside of the projects you’re working on. One way to get to know you them better is from their social media profiles.

Help desk software company Groove does this well. Groove follows its customers, taking note of interesting Tweets and mentioning them in their interactions.

If a company with over 6,000 users can stay connected to its clients with social media, it might work for you too. It also might make you feel like a stalker just thinking about it, which could be why you’re not doing it already.

Selling 1-to-many products online is a different game than nurturing 1-to-1 client relationships, where you’re more colleague than company. If you’re worried about crossing the line between light intel and full-blown creepster, ask yourself:

What would Zappos do?

Zappos retweets great customer quotes.

Zappos does not troll through its customer’s daughter’s birthday albums, liking and commenting on the photos.

Being professionally connected to your clients can give you valuable insights into how they see themselves (like discovering the reason your client never opens your reports is because she identifies as a storyteller who’s a marketing manager in title only).

Learn their preferred communication style

Find out what your clients want by figuring out their personality and communication style.

There’s no shortage of profiling systems. I like any framework that can be useful without needing to administer an actual test. The DiSC framework is helpful since it can be focused on workplace behavior.

You can assess your client just with a squint test, and use your findings to inform your interactions. How you’d craft an effective client email, for example, would depend on their DiSC profile:

Dominance (D-style): Keep the email brief and use a subject line that gets to the point.

Influence (i-style): Use energetic language. Exclamation marks and emoticons are usually appropriate.

Steadiness (S-style): Use polite, courteous language and make them feel needed.

Conscientiousness (C-style): Write a straightforward email that includes details, objectives and expectations.

If you want more profiling nerdiness, Crystal is an app that estimates DiSC-style personality insights based on social media and other data. Here’s a screenshot of Crystal telling me to chill out in my communications with a client:

There’s a lot your clients value that they won’t tell you directly.  Profiling can help you anticipate needs and adjust your approach.

Learn the company culture & stages of change

To help your client grow, you need to start where they are. What does the company believe about itself and its customers? What are your client’s core values and mission?

If you don’t know how to answer this, you can usually find it on LinkedIn or the current version of their website. As self-delusional or inaccurate as this material may be, there’s a reason it had sign-off and is live today.

As an account manager, you’ll need to work with, not against, your client’s existing beliefs and values. You should also know why your clients chose you as a partner. Was it:

Fit. Your voice and approach are a perfect match for your client.

Aspiration. Your client sees your work or process and thinks “we need that here.”

Change agent. Your direct contact likes your style, and wants you to help change an organization that doesn’t yet agree there’s a problem.

Hired muscle. You’re there to get work done, not challenge the status quo.

Change is not easy. It happens in stages, over time. Knowing what your client believes and what your role is will help you determine how much effort is necessary to “nudge” your client towards new beliefs and worldviews.

Unless you’re a perfect fit for your client, you’re likely to meet resistance as your client begins to consider and take steps toward the next stage of change.

Whether you’re involved in a rebrand, a push for testing, a change in positioning or any other challenge to their identity or culture, understanding the stages of change will help to know how to best manage the relationship.

2. Your work doesn’t speak for you

Application: Show your client the process and benefits of your work.

Remember the scene? Don Draper is man of mystery. Never one to talk about his past, he demurred in an important interview, resulting in an underwhelming article and a lost opportunity for publicity. Don defended his approach, saying “my work speaks for me.” Bert Cooper shot back “turning creative success into business is your work. And you’ve failed.”

(This image is from the end of the episode, where Don does a 180 and owns the interview. Watch the clip here.)

As creatives, we want our work to stand on its own, no explanation needed.

So there’s a certain kind of punch-in-the gut disappointment that comes when you’ve sent your client your best, most compelling creative work, and the email you get back says:

This is not what I expected. Can you explain your process here?

Luckily, the discipline of conversion copywriting has armed you with a deep knowledge of persuasion that can be applied to client management and business success.

Reverse the Curse of Knowledge

We’re trapped by the curse of knowledge, meaning that once we know something, we forget what it’s like to not know it. We forget that most of our clients don’t specialize in our field and don’t intuitively understand the benefits of the work we provided.

Features and benefits for the win

At some point in your copywriting career, you’ve probably lectured patiently educated another person about the difference between features and benefits.

Features are what the product does

Benefits are what the features solve

Good copy is benefits-focused. So are good client presentations and deliverables.

Think of features as your deliverables and their components: Sales pages, emails, cross-heads, fascinators, tone, social proof, etc.

Benefits are how the features will help your clients get the outcome they want. What’s the benefit of running this email? How will using testimonials improve conversion rates?

Until you have sign-off (and sometimes even after that), you’re still “selling” your ideas to a client who doesn’t know how your work will solve his problem. As in the comic below, paint a picture of the result for clients, don’t just hand them a can of (powerful, high-converting) spinach.

(Image source)

You don’t need to unpack every choice or quantify its expected lift, but providing some high-level prompts of “so you can…” or “this helps to…” can give your client the context she needs to understand and agree with your strategy.

The “because” technique

Giving people a reason — any reason — to say yes is usually better than no reason at all. A 1978 study showed that people were just as likely (93% vs 94%) to let others cut in line for a copier if they had a placebic, obvious reason (“because I need to make some copies”) as they were for a real reason (“because I’m in a rush”).

Creating a habit of offering a reason, even if it seems self-evident (“because the research shows this is what your customers want”), can help combat the curse of knowledge and get client buy-in.

Cheat your way to more transparency

Everyone wants to buy from companies that are transparent, and many people insist they’ll pay more for transparency. Whether or not that’s true, being transparent and being perceived as transparent can involve different values and skillsets.

I feel I’m being transparent if I have nothing to hide; I’m honest and meet my deadlines.

But my client doesn’t feel I’m transparent. The project is due next week and she doesn’t know if I’m 20% done or 90% done. She doesn’t know anything about my process. She’s needlessly anxious and frustrated by all the unknowns.

Harvard marketing professor Michael Norton says that to be transparent, we should have a strategy in place to show our work. He uses Domino’s Pizza Tracker as a case study for how businesses can be more transparent.

The pizza tracker is a wildly successful web app that shows the steps of preparing a pizza. But it doesn’t actually reveal new information: we already know the steps and sequence for pizza delivery.

So what makes the tracker such a huge hit? This is Norton’s explanation of why people love it (you can watch the 3 minute clip here):

“There’s something very psychologically compelling about…being able to see that it’s happening.  We really like to feel that there’s a person, scrambling around doing stuff for us, because it means we’re really important.

The more we can see into the process…the more we feel really good about the output of that process.”

Even if it’s human nature, having a client who delights in my scrambling to finish tasks for him is at odds with my ideal workflow. I’d rather go the Domino’s route of providing that feeling of transparency, without actually checking in every hour, being micromanaged, or resorting to passive-aggressive communication until one of us fires the other.

The pizza tracker’s success can be explained by the labor illusion: people are happier if they feel like we’re working harder for them – whether or not it’s true, and whether or not it improves the outcome.

Here are some ways to show your client all your hard work:

Use a collaboration tool. With a shared collaboration app (like Slack, Trello or Basecamp), the work you do stays top-of-mind, rather than lost in a crowded inbox. Let wins and milestones linger, rather than immediately archiving completed work.

Share the steps. Create distinct steps on the path between start and done, and help your clients know where you are on the journey. Document and communicate the tasks. “Phases” are good, checklists are awesome. (If you know how to use an actual progress bar for this, please share in the comments.)

Break up deadlines. This is especially useful for large projects that you’re likely to procrastinate anyway. Assign due dates to smaller steps of the process, rather than having everything due at once.

3. Don’t let your client near the check

Application: Give your clients the VIP treatment and remove the “pain of paying.”

Remember the scene? Legendary account man Roger Sterling gave Lane Pryce some sage advice as he prepared for his first client dinner. Among secrets of which drink to order and how to get the client to fill out his own RFP, he suggested: “Get your answers; be nice to the waiter; don’t let him near the check.”

(Image source)

As a copywriter in the internet age, you’re probably not closing clients over steak dinners or renewing contracts from courtside seats. I’ll be forever grateful that I can keep clients without having to play golf.

But there’s a hidden cost to this low-cost way of business: losing the chance to grab the check. There are some real advantages to giving clients the VIP treatment. Here’s how to be the hero without buying the next round.

How to “get the check” with strategic gifting

Smart account managers wine & dine and otherwise lavish attention on their clients to leverage the rule of reciprocity, which is that people are likely to return the favor and give back (in the form of loyalty, repeat business, referrals, etc).

John Ruhlin, author of Giftology: The Art and Science of Using Gifts to Cut Through the Noise, Increase Referrals, and Strengthen Retention, says that most businesses miss out on the powerful rewards of gifting for a simple reason: we aren’t focused on it. We’re too busy running the day-to-day.

Here are some of John’s spot-on suggestions for how to gift strategically:

Make a plan for gifting. Keep a grateful mindset, and reinvest in the people who helped you get where you are.

Give inspirational, “just because” gifts that provide real value. Gifts that are merely transactional (thanks for the referral) can feel tit for tat and have less impact.

Get the most bang for your gifting buck by avoiding “crowded” times (Nov – December) or expected occasions.

There’s a difference between a gift and a promotional item. If it has your brand on it, it’s a marketing tool. Real gifts are engraved with the recipient’s name, not yours.

You can “validate and fascinate” your clients by paying attention to what’s going on in their lives. Here’s an example of ConvertKit getting it right:

(Facebook screenshot, used with permission)

Show appreciation for the people who help your projects get done

Not only can gifting deepen client relationships, it can also help establish a better working environment. Here’s one more example of the power of gifting, for good measure…

My friend Becca works full-time on a sheep dairy farm, and she freelances as a data analyst. Her screen time is quite limited due to her massive chore schedule. She needs to get all the data in the right format on the first try to stay productive during her office hours. That almost never happens.

The reason Becca isn’t answering her email.

One of Becca’s district contacts is especially responsive and accurate with data pulls, so Becca sent a nice box of chocolates to express her gratitude. Her contact feels appreciated in a thankless data job and keeps prioritizing Becca’s work. Becca’s attempt at work-life balance is much easier.

Don’t charge your clients for each bite of pizza

If you want to keep your clients happy paying your fees, consider their psychological triggers around pricing. Your clients, like their customers, overvalue free. Dan Ariely explains:

FREE! gives us such an emotional charge that we perceive what is being offered as immensely more valuable than it really is.

Create bonuses, value-adds and (reasonable) all-inclusive services. Keep these extras top-of-mind in your deliverables and invoicing. Help your client maximize perceived wins and minimize perceived losses when it comes to their budgets.

Ariely also points out that people go to absurd lengths to avoid the pain of paying.

In one study, a pay-per-bite fee structure turned a nice Italian meal into an evening of agony for his students.

(Image source)

Here are some suggestions for how to make the pain of paying less intense for your clients, modified from Dianna Booher’s  What More Can I Say?:

Bundle items to increase perceived value, and reduce the number of small purchases your client needs to make.

Offer different payment options and terms, including payment plans.

Don’t make your client feel nickel-and-dimed by adding small fees after the primary sale. (The more you think through the full scope of similar projects, the easier this gets.)

You can also minimize or restructure unsexy business costs. Let clients see certain fees are waived or included for them.

4. Half the time in this business, it comes down to, “I don’t like that guy”

Application: People aren’t just motivated by outcomes. Be Likable.

Remember the scene? Sales were flat for Admiral Televisions, and arch-rival-to-the-entire-Creative-Department Pete Campbell had an innovative solution. By advertising to a high-value, untapped demographic, Admiral could reach a warm market and secure affordable media space. Unfortunately, his racist clients didn’t care for the opportunity, or him.

After the meeting, Pete protests, “It seems illogical to me that they would reject an opportunity to make more money.”

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Roger was not sympathetic. “I don’t know if anyone ever told you,” he said, “half of this business comes down to ‘I don’t like that guy.’” (Watch the clip here.)

People like you less if you don’t care about them

Researcher Wendy Levinson observed that there are 2 kinds of physicians: those who get sued and those who don’t. Quality of care being equal, the surgeons who were never sued had this in common: They spent longer with their patients, were more likely to participate in active listening, were more likely to explain their process and laughed easier.

Doctors with good bedside manner are more liked by their patients – who knew?

But “be friendly and likable” can be intimidating (if obvious) advice, especially for those of us who don’t identify as popular or extraverted or someone whose heart doesn’t start beating faster when the phone makes that “ringing sound.”

Keeping that study in mind, let’s flip the learnings and look at what the sued doctors have in common:

They were rushed and didn’t spend much time with their patients.

They didn’t actively listen or validate.

They didn’t explain what they were doing.

They didn’t find ways to connect and laugh with their patients.

These frequently sued doctors assumed their role as an authority excused them from being caring and empathetic. It didn’t. It never does.

Your clients are no different from these patients. Outcomes matter, but we’d all rather have great outcomes delivered by someone who isn’t cold or hostile. Especially when we’re scared or confused or our narrative is being threatened, we want to be treated with care and dignity.

The bar for being likable is not that high – you don’t need to win a congeniality contest, you just gotta treat your clients like people, and treat people like they matter.

Your client is driven by her dreams and fears, not “data”

Conversion copywriting is an increasingly measurable field. Especially when it comes to testing, we talk a lot about removing our own ego to “let the data decide.” The paradox is this:

Our clients are not data-driven. They are emotion-driven.

Your client wants to stop the test early because he doesn’t want to waste more money on a losing test (loss aversion), even though statistical significance hasn’t been reached.

She crafts self-soothing, unlikely theories about why her favorite variation lost (it kept the wrong kinds of people from buying) because of ego involvement.

When he agrees to the winning treatment, it’s not because he’s a cylon programmed to value wins over losses – it’s because he’s a human who likes to win.

You already know that people buy with emotion and justify with logic. But how do you win your clients over emotionally in a data-driven industry? Persuasion expert Blair Warren says:

People will do anything for those who encourage their dreams, justify their failures, allay their fears, confirm their suspicions and help them throw rocks at their enemies.

Think for a minute about difficult clients you’ve had and how you’ve responded to them.

Did you “set expectations” for their million-dollar ideas, rather than praising their ambition?

Did you let them know they weren’t seeing better results because their strategy, funnel, page or product was weak?

When they looked to you for projected outcomes, did you remind them there are no guarantees?

Did you set them straight that what they suspect is the problem isn’t actually the problem?

Did you suggest that their preoccupation with their competition is misplaced?

Confession: I’ve done all those things. This is not easy stuff to put in practice. But I’ve learned that when I react to a client as if the situation is “me vs you,” even if what I’m saying is 100% correct, they don’t care. When I reframe as “us vs them,” I can provide the same information, and I usually manage to get buy-in.

5. If you don’t like what they’re saying, change the conversation

Application:  Reframe the conversation to keep your client focused on what matters.

Remember the scene? Is change good or bad? You can’t win taking sides on that question. So when Don was asked to fight bad publicity about Madison Square Garden, he didn’t try to convince Manhattan they were wrong.

“If you don’t like what’s being said, change the conversation.”

(Image source)

Don reframed Penn Station’s stalemate debate about the merits of change into an inspiring promise of rebirth for a decaying city. Was SCDP really fired by its biggest client (Lucky Strike cigarettes)? No, his agency is just committed to health and could no longer promote tobacco.

Everyone with clients should learn the art of reframing, or we’ll find we “don’t like what’s being said” far too often.

The surprising reason we give so much attention to things that don’t matter

In subjective fields like design and copywriting, strategy meetings often devolve into discussions about button size, word choice and colors. Parkinson’s Law of Triviality explains this phenomenon:

The less important a subject is, the more time people will spend discussing it.

This principle (also known as the bike shedding effect) is not as cynical as it may sound.

People (not just clients, this includes you and me) are 1) more likely to have opinions about subjects we understand, and 2) less likely to weigh-in about a subject we’ve never heard of or can’t relate to.

I have nothing to say about the critical debugging problem the programmers are grappling with, but I have some strong opinions about why the graphic above is not attractive enough to be used in this article.

Your clients want to feel like their ideas are important. Owning and reframing the conversation lets you leverage their interest in contributing, without treating them like the Creative Director or Editor-in-Chief. (Really, what do we expect if we’re emailing documents and asking for feedback and edits?)

How one designer convinces his clients that “shop talk” is uncivilized

Here’s how Pentagram principal designer Michael Bierut reframes the conversation with his clients. He says:

“I do anything to avoid talking about typefaces, white space, composition, or colors. When the subject comes up, I act as if that’s something civilized people shouldn’t be discussing during business hours…

If you do it right, the conversation you have with the client is 99% about their business and their goals, 1% about these esoteric tools we have at our disposal to help them achieve those goals.”

Bierut frets about typefaces for “hours on end.”

But not in front of clients.

Keep clients focused on their goals, not their opinions

Give clients a framework and criteria to evaluate the project. Paul Boag recommends giving your client a specific role based in their expertise:

Focus on the user: Keep the client thinking about what the user needs.

Focus on the business: It’s the client’s job to ensure any design meets business objectives.

Focus on the problem: The client’s job is to identify problems. It’s your job to suggest solutions.

Over on the Copywriter Club podcast, Joanna Wiebe shared some ideas for reviewing copy. She suggests sending the copy an hour before the review. In the review, don’t jump into showing them the copy. Instead, lead clients through the process you followed to arrive at that copy, like so:

These are the goals. This is what you wanted us to work toward. Here’s what we learned… As a reminder, here’s the process that we go through to arrive at this copy that I’m about to present to you today. Here are some interesting findings and now here is the copy and let me walk you through it.

Framing the conversation around goals and processes helps clients understand how to meaningfully contribute and can keep the Law of Triviality at bay.

When all else fails…

For those times when a client refuses to let go of her need to “make a mark” on the project…

Offer functionally useless choices. If your client must touch the project creatively, you can let her make functionally useless choices. Just like you’d encourage a toddler to choose between the blue shirt and the yellow shirt, give your clients options that won’t affect the outcome of the project (hair color of the avatar, name of the test or treatment, etc).

Thank you, Buzzfeed, for making us feel like our random choices matter.

Try the duck technique (use with caution!): Some frustrated creatives resort to the duck technique, where they intentionally add a decoy to their work to give clients something to correct. This can backfire if the client likes the decoy, or if the decoy makes you look incompetent for not having corrected it yourself. Be sure to only use decoys that won’t harm your credibility if they’re approved.

Your 5 Take-Aways for Client Management

Lesson 1: Find ways to meaningfully connect and communicate with clients. Learn what drives them to say yes, and how to help them make changes.

Lesson 2: Overcome the curse of knowledge by showing your clients the benefit of your work. Keep them happy by showing the steps of your work.

Lesson 3: Use strategic gifting and help clients avoid the “pain of paying.”

Lesson 4: Clients are not data-driven. Apply Blair Warren’s one-sentence persuasion plan to keep them happy and on your side.

Lesson 5: Keep clients focused on goals, not opinions. Give them a framework to use to review the project.

To help you remember even more of Mad Men’s lessons for account management, check out this handy infographic:

I’ve used the titles account executive (AE), account manager and client manager interchangeably, as if they’re the same role. They aren’t. But if you’re wearing all the hats anyway, there’s not a meaningful difference.

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