Maybe this doesn’t need to be said, but Im feeling awful about it, so -- to any mutuals that might notice Im not following them anymore, I'm sorry about that. I've just seen too many posts on my dash that I have no way of blocking because they're not tagged in any way and they're distressing enough it's turning one of the only places I considered a safe space not safe for me anymore. So for my own mental health, I had to unfollow. I Will refollow in the future and I still love y'all, but I just-- I can’t. Ive been noticing some very worrying stuff about my mental and emotional state and it's just too much currently. I hope it's at least an understandable decision, and I wish y'all are having a good day out there 💗

"Better check with all your sources before twisting the facts!" 🎵

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New 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash update today!

Fairly OddParents || One-Shot - “Told You So”

Read on FFN || Read on AO3 || Read on dA

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The "notorious complainer and empty nester Mama Cosma" & "Affection-deprived head of complaints department Sanderson" dynamic is one of my favorites, so here's a story about them!

Mama Cosma gets anxious when Cosmo doesn't come home with milk, so she takes it up with the only guy who'll listen to her... at 2 AM on a work night.

(First 1000 words under the cut)

121. Told You So (Almost 10,000 years pre-series)

Year of Breath; Summer of the Early Groundhog

Probably, the worst reaction Sanderson could have had to waking up with Florensa Cosma in his bed was, "We need to use stronger protection."

Yes, the "we" in that sentence encompassed all of Pixies Inc., and the protection he was referring to happened to be the apartment building's (clearly faulty) security system, but his chosen phrase made his roommate jolt and snap straight up in bed, lavender eyes glowing wide-eyed in the dark. Not just that, but it also did little to improve the woman's mood. Her brow furrowed. She sunk her fingernails through his thermal shirt, almost ripping it in the process. Which would have been a shame. It was his favorite shade of gray. Florensa's eyes blazed the brightest tint of blue he'd seen in months, years, centuries. His oil lamp flickered on the bedside table. It cast dancing red and black snakes across her twisted face. Even in the dark, he could see the mint-colored curls that stacked higher and higher on her head like a layered cake.

"Get up."

Her words splattered his nose with hot saliva. Ugh. Sanderson dropped his head back to his pillow. He didn't groan, didn't express any noise of discontent in the presence of an outsider, but he certainly would have liked to. The pillow wasn't that nice, either. Recent lumps and wrinkles had marred its usual pleasant flatness. "Didn't I hang up on you, like, five times tonight?"

He had… Hadn't he? In fact, he was fairly certain that after Florensa's last call, he'd dumped all the water on the floor, flipped his scrying bowl upside-down, and nestled beneath his thin blankets once again.

Florensa Cosma gave him another shake, this one so hard that he nearly bit his tongue. "You're in customer service, young man. The complaints department. I need you. Get up, you lump of lump. You have work to do."

Urrrgghh… Sanderson peeled the pillow from beneath his head. Sweat had stained the white fabric gray; he could tell that much even in the dark. Letting his head bounce back against his mattress with a squeak of springs, Sanderson stretched his arms as high as they could reach and allowed the pillow to drop on his face. "Pixies Inc. is closed right now, so you'll have to wait a few more hours. I'm off the clock, Dm. Cosma. I don't work at the dustforsaken time of… early in the morning."

"Does it look to you like this can wait until morning? This isn't my idea of a good time either- I wouldn't be traipsing 'round about your silly little squarefest if I didn't have to. Do you have any idea how long it takes to disable all your alarms? Even with magic?" Florensa ripped the limp pillow aside, flinging it against his closet door. It smacked with a shifting of wooden door panels. Sanderson screwed up his eyelids in the face of her glowing irises again, until she grabbed his shirt and twisted fabric and skin with both hands. He jolted up. Their heads collided. Bonk! "Oof!"

The pain only lasted for a spark, then subsided. Elastic fae skin never stayed injured very long. Taking advantage of the way she recoiled, Sanderson snuck a glance towards Hawkins' bed. His roommate had quietly lain down again, pulled the covers over his head. He faced the window and didn't say a word.

"Oh you slippery snatter, how I envy you," Sanderson muttered.

"Watch your language, young man! You have a paying client here."

Sanderson stared at her, making a heroic - if bleary - attempt to focus on Florensa's facial features. Meh. He lifted his foot (still restrained beneath perfectly straight and even sheets) and nudged her further down the bed. "Let's you and me talk business, Florensa. Between the hours of 8:00 and 8:00 in the purple time zone, you are no client of mine."

"Mister Ennet Chipixie Sanderson," Florensa snapped, kneading the blankets around his knees with her fists. Her wings flickered up behind her. "Do I need to haul you down to your office with my own bare hands?"

Hmm. Sanderson eyed the muscles rippling beneath the short sleeves of her green dress. "No. Okay… Answer me this: Pixie World is closed to outsiders in the evenings. That's in local time. How did you get past the anti-poof sensors?"

"I. Walked." Florensa scootched forward until she knelt over him again like a snake about to strike. This time her hands went around his throat. She wouldn't… She wouldn't. But although he wanted to believe she wouldn't, her thumbs hovered dangerously above his windpipe. That actually made the pixie slip out of his practiced poker face.

"You walked. To Pixie World."

"I hopped a tram, I skimmed a bit, but yes. I did walk."

Sanderson re-evaluated his tormentor, from the mess of tangled mint-green ringlets hanging in front of her searing blue eyes to the scratches and cartoon-like bandages pasted along her arms and cheeks. He bit his lip.

"Good gracious, Sandy," she huffed, exhaling a cloud of glittering gold magic. "I will not ask you again (and for Nuada's sake, try wearing something decent at night that doesn't have the image of a suit and tie printed on it, for once- you look like a human corpse). My son has been missing for two days. I really did think for a while that he left only to pick up milk, but it's been so very long… I'm beginning to worry. He's never been away from his mother this long since the war. He still lived at home during school."

"Your first son or your favorite son?"

"Favorite son." She sat back on her heels, opening and closing her hands in her lap. Her nails scratched against the sleek fabric of her dress. "Sanderson, you must understand how a mother cares for her children… He may be out there somewhere, perhaps beaten and mugged and alone. Those nasty bullies he keeps running into will have taken all his loose change- he does carry so much loose change, you know, and it always jingles when he walks. Now, I didn't stomp up here to nag you about you sleeping habits. Come and help me turn on your wand-tracking doohickey in the basement, or I'll take my clean energy filtering business elsewhere. Permanently."

"Dm. Cosma," he whined.

Off went his covers. Florensa slammed a hand to either side of his head, staring down at the squirming pixie as he attempted to dissolve into his bedsheets. "Don't you come complaining to me! This is your job. You're Head of the Complaints Department. You exist to listen to my concerns and help me work them out. Now… Are you with me?"

"… Okay." Honestly, did he have much of a choice? He could ping her away somewhere with his wand, but that wouldn't change the fact that she wanted his help. Sure, she might not come back for some time, but she absolutely, most definitely, undeniably would be filing a complaint directly against him. The glass ceiling he toiled beneath didn't need any more reasons to keep him down.

Desert Flower (m) Ch. 1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~3.7k (Chapter 1)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist   >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Yay, this is happening!!! My first BaekBaёk, oml I’m gonna-

Ok. I’ll admit right off the bat that I wouldn’t be posting this any time soon without my lovely beta @baekshoney​ 🖤 She’s the person I turn to when I think there’s a million little things I could’ve done better, because that’s what I always think. I had to give myself a cut-off date to finally give up editing this 😅 So, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could share your thoughts and opinions on this too. My asks, dms and comments are places where you’re always welcome! Now, let’s get into this!

Tags: @blahblahblah-boo @baeklightsx @wooya1224 @baekklove

Chapter 1. The beginning of the end 

It was all too sudden.

The words he’d said deafened you. Refusing to believe what you were hearing, you shook your head and took a step back, as if doing so could start the conversation you’d just had over. Or rewind the time and allow you to prevent the words from coming out of his mouth in the first place. But he was firm, unyielding in his stance.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve known better.’

Than to start this relationship, was what he meant. That he should have avoided getting in a relationship with you altogether, and breaking up with you would’ve never become an issue.

‘Why?’ You tried to speak, but your lower lip started to tremble, silencing you at once.

This was all wrong. It couldn’t have been true, what he was saying.

He licked his lips, looking away, hands forming tight fists at his sides as he tried to recollect himself and urge his body to stay frozen on the spot.

That did not work for long – the sight of you, so small, so stunned and defeated, with tears welling in your eyes while you tried to stifle them… He couldn’t. It was stupid of him to break his act so easily, but you were too precious to him to just leave you like this.

Sighing and cursing himself out in his mind, he took a stride towards you and gathered you tightly in his arms.

‘I am sorry, Y/N,’ he continued softly, hearing you hiccup in his unexpected embrace. ‘But I have to leave. We- I should’ve stayed away from you from the start. Forgive me for being so weak.’

You sobbed at his words, shaking your head stubbornly and clinging to his broad chest as an act of desperation.

‘I can come with you!’

‘No,’ he interrupted your crazy idea. ‘I’m leaving you behind. To keep you safe.’

‘Safe from what?’ You questioned, half-annoyed now.

He kept insisting that he wished to protect you, but how was leaving you all alone ensuring your security? And why would you even consider it, when you only felt safe while with him?

‘I cannot tell you. The more you know, the more dangerous it is.’

‘Baekhyunie, please,’ you wiped the tears and grabbed onto his vest as he moved to pull away. ‘You can’t just decide this on your own!’

‘Y/N,’ he took hold of your wrists, not removing them just yet. ‘I know it’s hard, and I never wanted to hurt you like this. But there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind. I’d rather break your heart than risk your life, so it’s not really a choice.’

He looked around as if to make sure you were not being watched, and then leaned in to place a farewell kiss on your temple – his favorite spot. You sniffled, realization of the inevitable setting in.

‘Just let me go, flower,’ his voice lowered to a whisper, and you sobbed at the pet name. ‘You’ll be better off without me, I promise.’

‘No,’ you protested as he freed himself from your grasp, and took a step back. ‘No, Baekhyun, don’t leave,’ you clawed at his forearm, trying to stop him. ‘We can deal with it together, we can think of something! I don’t want to be without you,’ you whimpered sorrowfully.

He shook his head, shying away from your touch, while you desperately tried to hold him back.

But you couldn’t. He gently peeled your hands off to walk away, and you missed the pained crease between his eyebrows when he turned his back on you to escape your apartment.

‘Please, don’t do this…’ You whispered, voice breaking in anguish. Just as your heart was.

Yet, Baekhyun kept walking. Leaving you to weep in the unwelcoming emptiness of your home.

Leaving you for good.

***

Your relationship with Baekhyun started almost three years ago.

Still new to university life, you found yourself in the midst of a soap opera worth of drama when a bunch of transfer students joined all at once, some even in the same year as you. All highly attractive, they usually hung out together and spent less time than needed socializing with the outside world.

Not that you cared too much – sure, the excitement going around was making you curious, but they looked too handsome, almost to the extent that you found it intimidating. Ironically, the most intimidating you found Baekhyun. His then long dark hair with strands of red and a mullet hairstyle, the sharp green eyes, the pierced eyebrow, and the lip ring that made him look like a very attractive hooligan... The piercings turned out to be just as fake as the eye color, which did not disappoint you at all.

Funny enough, you only got to know this bad boy because he took a liking to retreating to the campus library. Hiding from all of the attention, of course. While some members of his clique actually basked in it, he preferred to disappear to the remote aisles of the quiet space and read a book, or, more likely, sleep with one on his chest. You saw him like that often, since you were stuck in there yourself – essays for different classes were piling up rapidly. As a diligent student, you were determined to do well in your first year of university, so dragging yourself to the library to stay glued to your laptop was the best option.

Coincidentally, you also preferred to stay in the less lively spaces, as you tended to seek peace and quiet to focus on your assignments. Your attention span… wasn’t impressive, to say the least, so you did your best to avoid any distractions. However, you didn’t count on a certain sleep lover to be one of them.

It was not the first day you spent close enough to notice the tranquil expression he wore on his face as he was snoozing. It was, however, the first time he caught you staring mindlessly in his direction. Burning the deepest shade of red in your cheeks, you grabbed your books and quickly made yourself scarce, thanking heavens for the multiple aisles of books around. You walked around for ten minutes or so, actually placing your books back where they belonged and finding a secluded corner to check out what else was on the shelves. Squinting, you tried to read the name of the tome that had gotten your attention, and raised your arm to get it from the level that was clearly too high for you. Thankfully, someone reached over your head and helped you obtain the book. You turned around to say thank you but instead were suddenly pushed back into the shelf by the taller figure with neat red strands. Speechless, you only held your book close and gaped at him, as he leaned forward.

‘Ever heard about the cat killed by curiosity?’ He hummed, eyes piercing you from above.

You swallowed, knees getting weaker as you registered the fresh musky smell coming off of his brightly colored shirt.

To push your buttons, he decided to get even more scandalously close to you, arm holding onto the rack behind you to keep balance.

‘Nothing wrong with being curious!’ You jabbered. ‘In fact, if people preserved the curiosity they have as kids they would’ve had a much bigger learning capacity as adults.’

He huffed. You weren’t sure if he was shocked or amused, because your eyes looked anywhere but his face. In fact, they lowered enough to fix on your forearm, resting across his rib cage, and your fist pressing slightly into his pec to keep him at least at a minimal distance.

At this you gasped, eyes widening and returning to his face, only to catch an inquisitive spark in his retinas as he nudged the lip ring with his tongue. Sighing, he took a step back, finally allowing some space between you.

‘Can’t write a philosophy essay with this, little flower,’ he chuckled. ‘Or if you can… I’d be impressed.’

You looked down in confusion, understanding that the book you were holding was from a Botanics section. ‘The Oxford Book of Wild Flowers’, read the title.

But… How did he know about your philosophy assignment?

***

Only later had Baekhyun confessed that he had had an eye on you for a while by the time this incident took place, but the moment of your outburst was what got to him. When he looked down at your cornered form, holding a book to your chest so innocently, and keeping him away instinctively with one arm. He had to bite his tongue to prevent a smile from making its way onto his face. That was it for him, and even though he wanted to avoid you and keep interactions with you to an absolute minimum, he couldn’t help but find ways to draw your attention. Like that one time, when you walked out of the library because the loud noises from the outside made your concentration for the night crumble.

The source of that noise was, in fact, a certain convertible, blasting the music for the entire campus to hear. You would have come up to complain that your studying was cut short if you didn’t have perfect eyesight. It allowed you to see that there was a red-haired problem sat in the car, with a bare foot resting lazily against the panel. Ready to run the other way, you turned around, meeting a solid chest with your forehead. You discovered that it was a rather cheerful guy in the same year as you, Jongin, and the other one with him was Sehun. And those two stalled you long enough for Baekhyun to make an entrance.

It was the first time he tried asking you out. And got rejected.

However, as much as you wanted to take ownership of that and say that you were playing hard to get when you walked off and left him stunned by your refusal, that was not the case. This guy made your throat go dry at the mere sight of him! He was way too handsome, and he also looked kind of… well, he looked like he’d break your heart without thinking twice about it. And that you couldn’t allow.

But then again, good girls do tend to fall for bad boys. Or was he only pretending to be bad? You’d never heard anything that discredited him, except for the way he stared people down sometimes. That once happened to a fellow student in your class. After he sat next to you during lunch.

Actually, almost the entire week following that incident you had lunch alone because everyone kept making excuses to sit elsewhere. That was how you became friends with Jongin and Sehun. Having had a few classes together, you were more or less acquainted with each other, so you didn’t mind when Jongin suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a tray and asked you if they could join. He even had lunch with you when Sehun wasn’t around – you figured that it made Jongin even more chatty. So much so, that one day he leaned across the table to get slightly closer, and used his most clandestine voice on you.

‘You know, hyung could burn a hole in anyone next to you with his glare, but I’m immune to his ‘charms’, thankfully,’ he giggled and added, ‘Still, I think you should give him a chance. Baekhyun’s a good guy, and he’s kinda torn as it is. Asking you out was a pretty big step for him.’

Honestly, you had a hard time believing that. Baekhyun… was probably the kind of guy, who never even had to ask. You could look around and easily spot a dozen eyes that were fixed on him at this very moment. Why in the world would he want to date you, clearly not the ‘easy-going’ party type? He probably wanted to get into your pants just for sport, like the rest of the pretty boys.

‘Whatever you’re thinking, it’s far from the truth. Ugh, Junmyeon will kill me for this!’ Jongin cursed himself and continued, before you could ask. ‘Hyung looks rough around the edges, but he’s really a softie. Trust me on this.’

‘Are you his wingman or something?’ You snorted dubiously, getting a little timid from this discussion.

‘Ha, are you kidding? He’s gonna strangle me if he finds out. Like I said, he’s torn between staying away from you and persisting in his efforts to take you out. Just think about it,’ he ended with an attempted (but failed) wink.

As if to take away your chance to process the unexpected input, Jongin shoved Baekhyun in your direction the very next day. Disappearing from the cafeteria right after, of course. Envy his subtlety. But, apparently, what he said earlier had an effect, so you only nodded when a flustered figure asked for permission to sit with you. He looked quite different from the previous times you saw him up close – much less confident and intimidating. But he seemed sincere when he said he just wanted one chance.

And that was how your relationship picked up. It took a whirlwind course from the very beginning, and the hot summer before your second year of university was the most torturous time ever for the both of you. Still wary of getting played, you only trusted Baekhyun enough to get intimately close months and months into dating. And he was patient with you, going at a slow pace, letting you pull away whenever you wanted. Until you didn’t want to anymore.

That last leap of faith was a beginning in itself – a true beginning of you and Baekhyun. The final seal was broken, and you entrusted yourself fully to him, which he repaid by showering you in his affection and feelings that he himself had not come to acknowledge just then.

After a year together, you were not simply allowed into the inner circle, but also educated about the special abilities that Baekhyun and his friends had. You were first interrogated by their leader, Junmyeon, who wanted to make sure you had no ulterior motives and were not going to tell a living soul about them. He called it ‘a quick chat’ as he dragged you in a scarcely furnished room where he sat you down at the small metal table across from him. The leader asked you questions and tried reading your verbal and non-verbal cues, so it was clearly an interrogation. Junmyeon was pretty experienced in this, so he could instantly tell that you were harmless. And you also passed the test, answering the most ridiculous questions about Baekhyun – apparently, that was to make sure you were not ‘faking it’ – so, he accepted you into their family.

However, knowing too much was dangerous, so you only learned about their powers and how they came from the so-called EXO Planet when they were young (talk about dating an alien!), and that the organization they called ‘the Red’ amongst themselves wanted to hunt them down. They also used to be held hostage by these people – and that was just about as much you knew about the issue because Baekhyun kept you away from the ‘unnecessary details’. He only told you that they seemed to be hidden well in this town, surrounded by just enough people to blend in and disappear. And you worried, always, because you knew too little about the dangers surrounding the group, and even less about how you could contribute to their safety.

Baekhyun laughed when you once brought it up, finding your concern nothing but cute.

‘You don’t have to worry about it, flower. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, not the other way around,’ he then said, playing with the curly ends of your hair.

You frowned at that. Why was it not your job to take care of him? If you could help, you wanted to help. But he always brushed you off, saying that the only thing you should do to help is staying out of trouble. Like that was a challenge – you either studied or hung out with him and his friends, not much room to stir trouble. The only other person you talked to regularly was your roommate, and she was also pretty harmless.

As time went by, you got closer to your own graduation, basically, one year left before you had to figure it out for yourself again. Your boyfriend was always supportive, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he imagined your future. He was always up to something but never shared it with you since it was ‘nothing for you to worry about’. Had he not shown you his actual abilities before, you would’ve certainly thought that it was a crazy lie he told you to cover up for some kind of illegal activity. In reality, some illegal activities were going on, especially since hacking and cracking was one of Minseok’s specialties (but mostly because they needed to keep their identities out of sight). Another reason why they didn’t all go to the same school when they arrived, and also why they changed their appearance ever so often. The lucky mullet was long gone by the time you had your first Christmas together, and you had had the pleasure of seeing him in multiple hair colors throughout almost three years of your relationship. Notably, the first dozen or so make-out sessions you had with him took place when he had just cut his hair and dyed it pitch black. And he still wore his fake lip ring at the time, which was an experience in itself. He did know how to use his mouth…

Admittedly, you were kind of used to being the object of the boys’ shameless teasing every time you hung out together. The way Baekhyun kept you close and fussed about everything was, apparently, atypical for their usually chill and humorous hyung. He was their second-in-command, after all, the genius behind the strategic planning of the group, and the mind that kept them hidden for so long in one place.

Because of you.

One of the boys had previously let it slip that they hadn’t lived anywhere for that long before, maybe not even for one full year. But this time Baekhyun was determined to stay for a while, now that he had an anchor.

But the day came. When he found out that they might’ve been compromised, he got scared. The way he’d never feared anything before. And he’d been through a lot, to put it mildly. Baekhyun could maintain a cold and sharp mind at all times, that was his thing, but not when it came to you. Once he figured out that there was a real chance, that they could’ve found the EXO hideout and, thus, could connect you to the boys, he couldn’t think straight. Overwhelmed by a sudden panic, he sought advice from the leader.

‘You know it’s not me who’s supposed to decide,’ Junmyeon sighed, looking at his disheveled second. ‘I told you a relationship wasn’t a good idea. I also think that keeping her close means putting her life in jeopardy.’

His words were cutting through Baekhyun as he paced the room, long fingers grasping his own hair.

‘But it still may be a safer option than leaving her here,’ the leader added, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘We need to relocate fast, and you have the ‘better of two evils’ situation on your hands.’

‘I know I should leave her,’ Baekhyun stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the leader. ‘But what if they already know, hyung?’

‘Minseok had every trace of her erased, not a single camera in town had a glimpse of her with you. They might have found our footprints in the sand, but those don’t necessarily lead to her. I suppose they should move on as soon as they come here and realize that we’re nowhere around.’

‘Most likely, but what if-’

‘They can very well catch up to us while we run. Like I said, there isn’t a right answer, but a choice. And I think that you’ve already made it when you should give her a voice, too,’ the leader pushed.

‘I-’ Baekhyun turned away to hide the glassy eyes from Junmyeon. ‘I have to give her a chance, hyung. I cannot sentence her to a lifetime of running and danger. And I know she’s silly enough to throw herself into it if she has a say in this.’

‘And if you’re wrong? You’re going to break her heart as a precaution?’

‘She won’t die from a broken heart. Can you imagine what they’d do to her if they find out?’

Junmyeon bit his lip. This time, the choice was completely out of his hands. He thought his second was making a mistake, but it was not his place to decide. Exhaling again, he nodded.

‘Tell her in the morning. We’re moving out as soon as the rain starts.’

>> Chapter 2

A/N: So, what do you think? This is more of an introductory chapter, I know, but it covers quite a lot of their relationship with Baek. You must be excited to see where this goes and when Baёk appears? Or if Baekhyun is coming back? Me too, me too 🙈

a handful of renga fic recs

hey y’all!! just realized i’ve got quite a bit of renga fics bookmarked that I really really liked, so might as well share them right??? some of these are pretty popular so you might’ve already read them, but hopefully you’ll find something you haven’t read that you’ll enjoy :D 

(All are rated T, and all are completed, though some are part of series which are also very good)

then, the spark of a star shooting too close | 3.5k words

It’s said that if you wish on a shooting star, your wish will come true.

“I wish for Reki to like me back.”

A bright star streaks across the night, leaving cosmic dust on its trail. The nighttime is cool, the roof under his bare feet is chilled to the touch, but Langa’s skin is ablaze. His hands, clasped, shiver in the wind. He squeezes his eyes shut. I said it! I said it out loud!

Peeling his eyes open, Langa notices that the star’s gone from the sky. Hopefully the star heard him on its way to its destination. Maybe it’ll relay his wish and phone a friend, and maybe his wish really will come true.

Langa unclasps his hands, hangs them at his sides in fists, and takes a deep breath. Cramming his eyes closed, he screams at the top of his lungs, “I really, really want Reki to like me back!”

Hit Count | 2.2k words

Right before Langa's match against Adam, two men from the future show up. One of them punches Adam in the face.

definitely a level headed reaction | 8k words

“Oh shit,” Reki said, stumbling. “Play along.”

“What—” Before Langa could finish asking, Reki had leaned into his side and grabbed his hand, laughing like they’d been having a completely different conversation. - In which Langa and Reki run into Reki's ex, Reki asks Langa to pretend they're together, and Langa has some realizations.

my home is your home, my bed is your bed | 6.7k words

Reki never seems to sleep for more than two hours at a time and Langa’s juggling the simultaneous annoyance and affection he feels when his best friend spams his instagram DMs at three in the morning.

Meanwhile, Miya is simply fed up.

~

“Langa?”

This time a breath of frustration does leave his mouth.

“What?”

“I’m still cold.” Reki pauses. “And the floor is hard.”

Langa is so tired he would do anything to get Reki to be quiet. So he says, in English, “For the love of God,” and then, in Japanese, “Reki, come sleep up here.”

a little pick me up | 4.7k words

Miya raises an eyebrow, but he isn't stupid enough to mention it. "I don't need my classmates seeing me with a bunch of slimes like you!"

"Isn't everyone a slime to you?" Langa asks, infuriatingly earnest.

"Yeah!" Reki agrees. "Anyways, I thought I was a golem now!" Miya kicks him in the shin. It isn't even that hard- not hard enough to bruise, at least, but Reki clutches his leg and hops on one foot all the same.

(In which Miya learns about the power of friendship)

(NOTE: this one (above) isn’t renga centric but I really liked it and it does include the tag so I thought I’d put it here too!!)

favored sting of winter sun | 16k words

After S, Reki mopes, gets an ear piercing, accidentally adopts a small army of children, and wonders why Langa stares at him in class all the time.

"But Reki finds that the world agrees with him like this; that maybe he is still a favored son of Okinawa. He might not burn as brightly, not soar as high, but he’s still part of something beautiful. With every push against the pavement, every grind, every gravity defying leap into the air, he redefines and transforms the world around him."

---

Or: Reki Kyan learns to be loved.

Canon-divergent after 9.5.

the momentary space we call now | 21.8k words

Ghosts are abstract things; leftover memories and what-could-have-beens.

Langa is certain that Reki can’t be one of them.

(or; the park beside the sea is haunted. it takes Langa two weeks of skateboarding lessons to realise this.)

Daughter!Reader X Negan, Reader x Daryl: Chapter 8. Civil Unrest

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For all intents and purposes this is filler so the next chapter will be up in the next few minutes

I’ll only post more chapters if previous chapters get a good reaction so if you enjoy this please heart it, reblog it, and/or reply to it. Interaction inspires.

if you wish to be added to the tag list please dm me. All chapters can be found under the tag AJ’s Negan’s Daughter AU

In a few days you were up on your feet, your need to survive driving your fast recovery. As soon as you could sit up without nearly fainting and you could bend your fingers without much pain you started taking patients. Mainly burns and cuts. You kept your head down while working, adding to your intimidating reputation. They didn’t realise you were just trying to conceal yourself while looking for familiar faces. You rarely left the medical bay, even when it was icy cold.

Carol checked on you regularly, seemingly incredibly concerned for you. It almost pained you to suspect her to be out to get you. Luckily she seemed convinced that because you had been alone for so long that you’d take a long time getting used to the walls. Maybe she figured out that you were just biding time for leaving again.

“Are you okay?” Laura pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up suddenly, nodded, and went back to your reading. All these patient profiles from the previous physician were thorough. “Why would Emmett be this detailed with extremely basic medical care” you tought, then again he was a captive here just as much as you were. He probably had nothing better to do. “Are you sure? You look so serious.” She continued. You looked up to her. She was lying on one of the beds chewing on a piece of hard plastic. Having to keep a watch on ‘The New Doc’ would’ve been extremely boring.

“Just a lot of reading” you sat up and stretched your arms, not realising how long you had sat hunched over the hand-written pages. “Doctors have horrible handwriting and this guy sure likes to drag his point out”

“How bad is it?” She asked. You lifted the profile of another patient and followed along with your finger.

“The left Thenar has suffered tremendous infliction resulting in the loss of elasticity and possible avulsion of the tissue” You read aloud in a dramatic voice

“What?” Laura said, taking the plastic out of her mouth for a moment

“He pulled the muscle in his thumb, possibly tearing it” you flopped the paper down, rubbing your forehead.

“And all those pages are full of that shit” Laura pressed. You sighed with a nod.

“I never thought I’d be grateful to have done AP english.” you sighed

“Okay smart ass no need to show off” Laura chuckled, chewing on the plastic again.

“Please,” you sat back in the chair “My old man made me do it. ‘You already speak english so it should be a breeze’ he said”

“Those kind of parents?”

“You’re familiar?”

“Yep” Laura sat up, hunching over her now crossed legs. “My dad was a lawyer. Mom was an accountant. They kept pushing me to over achieve”

“Bet they weren’t happy with that” you spoke, pointing to your neck to reference Laura’s tattoo. Her hand went over it instinctively.

“I had already skipped town with my boyfriend before I got this.” She laughed. The smile melted away as she slowly stroked her neck. “Hadn’t seen them since. Probably dead.”

The room got a lot more quiet. It was crazy to think you both were so close in age but had gone through so much hell in the same world. But Laura was a saviour. You were Negan’s kid. If you were to be friends it would have to be at an arm’s reach.

The momentum changed when Carol arrived in, holding a small tray with cookies on them. The smell told you they were fresh. Your heart wanted to tell her to get out, but those cookies smelled too damn good.

“How’s the hard work going ladies.” she spoke with a cheery voice, setting the tray down in front of you. You were on it instantly. You took a cookie with you as you limped over to lock the door to the medical bay. “Any news?” Carol whispered

Carol had asked you and Laura to investigate the uprising of Negan supporters in the Sanctuary. Well, mainly Laura since she would know more people in Carol’s eyes. The payment, cookies. Though Laura would probably do it for free. She enjoyed the new peace that came with being aligned with the other settlements.

“Just the usual hot-heads” Laura sighed. You limped back to your chair.

“They like to complain to me.” you gently sat down. You’d only been back walking without the full splint for a couple days now but the clunky half splint on your lower leg wasn’t exactly walker friendly. “‘You should’ve seen how great we were when Negan was running the place’ and other shit”

“What do you think of it?” Carol asks you seriously. You suck the sugar off your fingers happily.

“He mustn’t have been that good if he’s not in charge anymore.”

They had their little meeting then as Carol was leaving you piped up,

“How’s the bridge team?”

“No.” Carol retorted quickly as if speaking to a child. “You are not going out there how many times do I have to tell you.”

“I could help-”

“You’re needed here Y/N” she spoke firmly.

“Yes, mom.” you groaned from your chair, earning a laugh from Laura. Carol left quickly.

“Why do you wanna join the bridge team so badly?” Laura asked through a mouthful of cookie.

“I miss the fresh air, I guess” and there’s more chances to get away from you all.

That evening you were restless. Normally it was the pain that kept you up late but it also exhausted you. You got out of the medical bed you’d claimed as your own, one of three that outfitted the med bay. You limped your way out of the medbay, not bothered if you woke Laura. The bathroom was down the hall so she would just assume you had to pee, especially since you had taken the torch dedicated to midnight bathroom visits. Being the medic gave you the luxury of a torch instead of matches and a candle.

It hurt to climb up so many stairs, with both your wounds and the cold seeping into your skin, but you’d be tired by the time you came back down anyway. You walked onto what used to be Negan’s floor. Your ‘family’s’ floor. You’d wanted to see it for a while now, out of curiosity more than anything else.

You first went to your father’s room. Pushing the door open you felt a burst of cold air whip around you viciously. The room has been stripped of its furnishings, right down to the carpets. Taken away to be burned most likely. The windows were shattered, the bullet holes in the ceiling giving away the method. It was so completely devoid of any sign of human life one would say it always had been. You closed the door and continued onto the parlour where the wives would spend their day. This room didn’t have windows but the room was still completely void of any of the glamour that once adorned it. The only remnants was the wall paper which was peeling off due to the damp.

The image of the forgotten rooms didn’t stir emotion in the way you thought they would. You imagined getting overwhelmed with emotion, but you felt nothing. No that wasn’t right, you felt a loss. Not a loss of the grandeur you had gotten to enjoy in captivity, not a loss of the fake smiles from your many ‘mothers’. You felt a loss of your father. You mourned the man you had called your father, and the idea that all that was left of the memory of him were these halls where cowards bowed to him. You felt an overwhelming realisation that the man you called ‘Pops’ had died long before ‘Negan’ formed.

Your final destination was your room. You figured it would also be empty but your room was a bit away, down the end of a hall few knew how to get too. You’d had more roaches as visitors than people. Your father had chosen it for you so the ‘common nobodies’ wouldn’t see you easily, another measure to keep you safe.

It also worked the other way as you round the corner and see a light coming from what used to be your room. The hall was lined with offices and storage rooms you knew you could dive into if someone appeared so you turned off your light and walked down the hall gingerly on your feet. You were now only a couple feet away from the door when you heard voices coming from the end of the hall, from what used to be your room.

“I still can’t believe they put this bitch here to keep an eye on us. That fucking redneck was an ass but atleast he didn’t pretend to be all fucking nice”

“It’s probably a play to get us to relax. They’ve got us locked in this factory and don’t give us nearly enough food, and they won’t let us go to the other settlements”

“We’re prisoners. They said they only wanted to lock up Negan but now we’re all starving.”

“Enough of your bitching.”

They went on to talk about how many people were on their side and their efforts to get weapons. They clearly had no idea you were listening. After all, what kind of idiot is gonna climb up over ten floors for no reason. Other than sentiment perhaps. It sounded like there were about four people in the room, but they spoke like they had a few under their influence. They were looking for weapons and a means to get back at ‘Rick and his posse’.

“We’ll bring them that bitch Carol’s head on a spike for them.”

“What about the bridge? We got people working there for food.”

“And then what? They’re just gonna keep extorting us for slave labour or let us starve.”

You were so drawn in by their words that the door opening startled you. You charged from your spot into an open room, a storage closet of a sort. You knew it was too risky to close the door so you stood against the wall next to the door. They walked along the hall bantering loudly. You sidestepped deeper into the room, knocking something with your foot making a loud metal sound. The voices stopped and you instantly froze, holding your breath like your life depended on it. A light shun into the closet, then the other way.

“Probably just a rat” one of the voices spoke. “We can set some traps and stew it for dinner”.

They continued down the hall, their steps growing faint a minute or so later. The adrenaline began to subside and the pain from the recent strain on your leg made itself very apparent. You stepped out of the closet and walked down the hall to your old room. Maybe they left some evidence you could use to barter for your freedom.

You opened the door to your room, only illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window. Unlike the other rooms, your room hadn’t been completely ransacked. The mattress had been taken off the frame but the metal skeleton remained as well as the rug under your bed. Other than that it appeared empty. You turned on your torch to get a better view.

On your bed frame lay what had to be near a hundred dead wild flowers. Your breath caught in your throat at the site. You moved and sat on the bed frame, the metal sending a chill up your body. You placed a hand on the dry stems and something hit the ground with a thump. You moved to look under the bed as quick as you could, reaching under the bed you cut yourself on something sharp. You moved your torch on it and grabbed it again, this time from a less dangerous end.

Under the bed you pulled out the knife that had your name engraved on it. The metal shun bright in the light as if lovingly polished until it’s inevitable abandonment. You hadn’t realized you had begun to cry until a tear fell onto the blade and began to fill the engraving.

~Tag List~

@bodeckersbitch @lauren-novak​ @aestthete

WINDFLOWER

part eight ~ the chance to pipe ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

A/N: We are in it now; thank you for sticking around. Messages/Asks are open and greatly appreciated.

Summary: Alex seeks Will’s support and advice for how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He also takes his first shower in 72 hours.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language.

Word Count: 2.6k

He arrived at Will's apartment, still wearing the mindless grin that Y/N coaxed out of him. Alex walked through the unlocked front door and straight to his friend's bedroom. It was bright, not near as cave-like as his own, and there was the lingering scent of a candle burned recently. Will sat at his desk: a second chair set-up next to him: scrolling through the youtube analytics for his most recent video.

It seemed that CPM was up – good news for the video and its one-million views. Will cleared his throat, causing Alex to freeze just two steps inside. Without lifting his head or dragging his attention from his screen, Will said with a flat and ominous tone, "I warned yous."

"What?"

"About being late." Spinning his chair, Will revealed the blue spray-painted plastic bat sitting in his lap. He kept his stern face for another five seconds before breaking into his usual toothy smile and laugh.

Rather than scrambling together a witty remark in return, Alex chuckled along. To that gag as well as the other usual playful abuse about his laziness and tardiness. Will finished the last one-liner he had prepared in the extra time he was made to wait for Alex to arrive, and his expression faltered. Not that he did not appear cheerful anymore – the smile remained – but it relaxed as a single eyebrow raised.

Will asked, "What's got you all giddy?"

Looking down at his hands, Alex chuckled again, though it sounded more akin to a humorous scoff, and gave no answer. He buried his hands in his pockets and took the seat next to his friend.

"What is it?" Will pestered on. "James Charles unblocked you, did he?"

Alex punched him in the arm as hard as he could (not hard). "Fuck off."

Will rolled his eyes before turning to the camera. He hit record and, putting on his boisterous presentation voice, shouted, "Right! Hello, welcome back to the second channel – welcome back to oddly satisfying. It's been a..."

Top posts for that month included photos of symmetrical flower arrangements, videos of tape-peelings from miniature canvases, woodworking gifs, beautiful block calligraphy, slow-motion capture of a sewing machine, and animation to fulfill the desire to sharpen a pencil to a perfect point every time. Alex gave out ratings of nines and tens like he had a quota to fill. As the video continued, Will argued the scores with him more and more. None so much as he did with the seven Alex gave to a real shit submission of ping-pong trick shots.

It was not an average filming session (unbeknownst to Will); it was a game where with each passing minute, Alex was building up his courage for what he wanted to talk about after the video was over. George had been the one person in the friend group he told about his feelings for Y/N, and that had not gone over well. But Alex thought he might now be able to explain it better – explain himself better – and be supported. Will was, after all, behind the act of snakelike behaviour, a very caring person who had held Alex's hand while he fixed himself several times over.

"What do you give the paw-print painting then, Alex?"

"Hm?" Torn from the bed of his subconscious thoughts into the waking world, Alex darted his eyes to the screen and to the camera. "Uh, ten. Definitely a ten."

"Right. Anyway, we'll end on a good note. Be sure to hit that like button for more reddit videos and go subscribe to Alex's channel—"

"It's really epic!"

"—link will be in the description. And we'll see you guys later!" Will gave a terse salute to the camera and, once the outro was finished, dropped his voice to normal and asked, "Care to do a second one while we're here?"

"Why not?"

Springing from his chair to his feet, Will crossed the bedroom to his cupboard and began to change. Giving the illusion of there being a more significant passage of time between filming. Taking off his beanie revealed his dark unruly hair, which he covered again with his 'crisis actor' hat.

"I was wondering if I could get your advice on something?" Alex began not moving from his seat at the desk. Neither did he turn his attention much from the screen, to give Will some privacy.

"What's that?"

"There's this girl— Well, um, this woman rather, that I am interested in approaching – romantically – and—"

"Why you talking like an android?" Will stripped himself of his black and green shirt. Interestingly enough, the same black and green shirt as Ethan wore when he last had the sidemen member over for a video. "Could you be normal for a minute?"

"I like her. Ok? What now?"

He pulled on a shovel hoodie and grabbing another turned to Alex. Gesturing to the pink zip-up jacket, he asked, "You have a decent shirt under there or want to borrow one of these?"

"I'm fine. But about the girl. Should I even bother?"

"How do you mean? If there's the chance to pipe – you got to take it."

"No. Like if I just end up fucking it up, why—?"

"Stop thinking about the end. We're at the beginning, alright? You're a good-looking lad, even got a decent trim for once in your life." Will ruffled Alex's hair as he returned to the seat beside him. "You're verified. All you got to do is slide into the lass' twitter DMs, and you're in."

"I'm not verified," he said with a bit of a huff. "You're verified."

Will shrugged. Pulling his phone from his pocket to check messages. "Whatever. You ready to record?"

"Not yet. What if she has a boyfriend?"

"Chin him."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. If there's not a ring and a date...well...it isn't really all that important, is it?" Will scrolled through the next ten posts on r/oddlysatisfying, before changing his mind, scrolling back up, and switching to another subreddit. Adding to his previous comment, "Unless it's Mia we're talking about."

Alex sucked his teeth. "Unfortunately, it is."

"Shut it. I'm having none of that." He pushed Alex's shoulder with one hand and wagged a jokingly accusatory finger. "Let's get back to it."

"Alright. Alright."

Will turned to the camera and, as quickly as he had dropped it, picked up his presentation voice, shouting, "Right! Hello, welcome back to this incredibly ad-friendly youtube channel. Instead of rating sand-cutting and slime, today we're gonna be rating dogs again. So this, welcome to r/aww. There should be some decent content here..."

It was nice sifting through the top posts of the week: a golden retriever taking care of baby bunnies, deer fawns sleeping under lawn furniture, an albino skunk, and a lot more ducklings and birds in general than Alex remembered being popular on the subreddit. Their last filming was full of constant challenges and debates, but when Alex gave nine and ten ratings for animals Will agreed whole-heartedly – save for a single dispute over a cat picture. It was cute; Will just was not terribly fond of cats.

Alex simultaneously commentated for the video and pondered – now that he had his friend's blessing – how best to shoot his shot with Y/N. He beamed with excitement and energy, and the evidence was in the light blush of his cheeks. It was not soft happiness like he felt when sitting on the rooftop of his apartment building, with a sausage roll in his stomach and a decent buzz. It was sharp happiness like the entire world had been dragged into photoshop and had the contrast shot right up to one hundred. All the dust from the corners of his mind was gathered, swept up, dumped in a bin, and set ablaze.

Before Alex could think of anything, it was the end of the video.

"Thank you very much for watching! Hope you enjoyed. Check-out Alex's channel and the WillNE main channel, links in the description, and we'll see you guys later." Will stopped the recording, dropped the act, and pulled out his phone again. There were dozens of messages; his fingers flew across the keyboard, shooting off response after response. "Thanks for helping out the cause."

Alex returned Will's fist-bump. He stood from his chair just to walk the single step and sit on the edge of Will's bed. Any distance would do in helping him ease into the details of his situation; after all, it was not just any woman that he was after.

He started, attempting to sound casual, as if the topic was organic, "What do you think about Re—?"

"Red and Sammy?" Will asked distractedly. Believing he had finished the question how Alex meant to, he took it upon himself to answer it as well, "Haven't met Red to be fair, but Sammy is a solid bloke."

"You think?"

"Yeah, Gee wanted to rearrange some furniture, and Josh and I were useless. I rang Sammy, he came round, practically moved everything himself – even brought beers. You did well good picking him, Lex."

At what was likely intended to be a genuine compliment, Alex felt himself shifting a single step closer to his internal self-destruct button. Of course, Alex knew. He knew that it was not healthy for his mind or mood to be so fragile or rather so easily swayed, but there he was – fuming with misplaced anger.

How could he tell Will? How could he explain he wanted a chance with one of their mates’ girlfriends without coming off as a bad person? Was he a bad person?

Did he care? When he came into the world running a race where he was made to wear sandals while everyone else got trainers. Alex stood from the bed and readied to leave.

Attempting to lighten the mood despite likely not knowing why it dimmed, Will added, standing to throw an arm around Alex's shoulders, "And who said you have no friends?"

"You do."

Will chuckled. "Huh, I must be dead smart me."

"Alright, well..." He intentionally trailed off, ducking from under his friend's arm.

"Are you off?"

"Yeah, I'll sees you later." Alex left the bedroom with quicker and heavier steps than was his usual gait; the difference, however, was not enough for someone outside himself to notice. It was frustration. It was: a set jaw. : an unnatural heat rising from his core to all his extremities. : and a mouth pinched smaller than what seems humanely possible.

If he were a 2D cartoon character, as comments under all his videos would suggest, his irises would be redrawn in the shape of flames. Steam might have even come from his ears.

George likes Sammy. Will likes Sammy. James (or at least drunk James who met him) likes Sammy.

And Alex wanted to steal his girlfriend. Fuck.

He raced through the flat to the front door; just through the threshold and into the hall, he stopped. Waiting to hear the latch bolt behind him. Like the clap of a hypnotherapist bringing their patient back from a breakthrough session – the sound drained him of his anger.

It was not helpful to him to be angry at the situation: angry with himself.

Alex walked the hall to the lift and stepped in. During his descent, he looked at the warped reflection of himself in the metal doors: the prickle of hair on his upper lip, the trim which was different but somehow identical to all his previous, a picture in pink – and also red.

It was the reflection of a man. Despite how his followers portrayed him in collages and fanfics, he was an adult man. Confronting that distorted image altered his perception: what he knew himself to look like: his conscious image.

How interesting he must look in the strange light of an average person's perception. How confused. How tired.

DING of the sliding doors opening, ripped his warped reflection in half. Alex exited half-expecting for Y/N to be there on the other side, considering she was everywhere recently. Luckily, she was not. But that fleeting thought of Y/N snowballed as he walked the hall to his apartment. Outside the door, he stopped and stood Blair Witch style facing it but not moving to unlock it or get the key from his pocket just yet.

Y/N. Alex thought of Y/N. Thought of first meeting her with her cute ears and flushed face. How she doted on Sammy. Thought of speaking with her in the foyer with her calm aurora and chin-hugging top. How he wanted nothing more than to be cute with her – for them to have a song.

Thought of when she was making waffles with shaking hands and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows. How she dodged his questions. Thought of ~the dream~ and how different he would act if it were real.

He rummaged through his pockets to find his key. When he did, he shoved it in and pulled it out the lock with an equal amount of unnecessary force.

It was late. 

Alex had been awake over twenty-four hours, and he wanted – needed – he just needed it to stop. Unable to handle consciousness much longer, he dragged his feet along the straight shot to his bedroom. And into his bathroom.

Not particularly a nighttime shower type of person, Nor a morning shower type of person, Alex was more a when-I-want-to-or-remember-to-shower type of person.

During slight depressive slumps, however, the more accurate category for him would be a once-the-grease-starts-to-drip-off-my-hair-that-is-when-I-will-shower type of person.

Stepping under the showerhead, the warm water wrapped around him. Pelted down on the pale skin of his shoulders and back, relaxing the muscles there. Slender fingers racked shampoo through his tangled hair: it smelled like almonds. Like artificial almonds designed by chemists who had never seen or smelt an almond before. It was nice.

He ducked his head to rinse out the suds and lost his balance, falling forward a bit. Catching himself with his hands on the wall in front of him; it jolted him out from under his somnambulism spell.

Hopping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped his single towel around his waist. There in the mirror above the sink were those little prickles of a moustache. Alex stepped up, took his razor in his right hand, grabbed the shaving foam off the counter with the left, and looked to his right again to find he had dropped the razor in the sink. His brain was too exhausted to focus on more than one thought – more than one task at a time.

With less than six flicks of the wrist, his upper lip was clean-shaven, and he was trudging along to his bedroom. Alex let his towel drop to the floor; he tugged on a clean pair of pajama bottoms and pitched himself from the other side of the room onto his bed.

"Ow," he muttered to his aching bones. Alex closed his eyes, and for the first time since ~the dream~ appreciated the contemplative silence of his bedroom – and of his head.

Taglist: (message to join!) @angelbabyivy​

Insecure. anyone.

Hey guys! I've decided to try my hand at this writing thing! This started as a chilly story but I decided to leave out the names so you can imagine it with anyone you'd like :)

My asks are open for any requests or constructive criticism, hope you enjoy!

Lots of love xxx

_______________

He came home upset. The result wasn't terrible, a clean sheet and a point meant a decent start to the season. But he wasn't happy. And the last thing he wanted was to come back home to you, knowing what was waiting. The night before an offhand comment he made, a stupid stupid comment he can't even belive he said had put him in the dog house. Deservedly. You hadn't even said a word, just ended the FaceTime.

Fuck.

As he pulled up to the driveway, he could feel his heart in his throat. Your car was still in its usual spot so he knew you were home. He couldn't decide if he was relieved you hadn't left or nervous about what was to come.

Today was supposed to be a great day, the first game of the new season, he was looking forward to spotting you in the stands as he always does. He knew you wouldn't show today but that didn't stop him from scanning every face in the crowd twice, just to make sure. Of course you weren't there, he didn't even know if you watched at home.

His key turned in the door as he took a deep breath, preparing himself for anything on the other side. What met him was silence. Unsure of whether to call out to you or not he placed his keys on the hook, right next to yours. Further proof you were still there.

__________

The argument started when you had brought up, once again an article in a gossip magazine about him sleeping around with other girls. You knew better than to believe them but you let your insecurities get the better of you. Can he blame you? He's this ridiculously good looking footballer, it's no secret he's got money and let's be honest he was known for sleeping around before he met you.

The night before a home game meant he was staying at the teams hotel, as per usual you FaceTimed each other before bed. You had seen the magazine while doing some grocery shopping earlier that day, the headline imprinted in your memory. This was the 3rd one this month alone. You knew he hated to talk about it and you could understand why. Constantly needing to defend yourself to the person whose supposed to trust you the most must be exhausting.

He didn't need to defend himself though, all you really wanted was him to tell you that you weren't going crazy and that he loved you. Instead, he had scoffed and said "seriously? When would I have the time? I barley have time to sleep with you!", you could sense the irritation in his voice but at the same time, his comment stung. He had hit you right where it hurt.

Work had been stressful and he'd been away in LA for most of the summer on holiday, you had joined him for a week and that had been fun but unlike his, your job didn't offer you a summer break so it was right back home and seperated from him for a few weeks.

So to say things in the bedroom had halted would be an undstatement. And you felt guilty as hell, it wasn't like you didn't want to, God it had been so long it was pretty much all you could think about but between his preseason tour and your exhausting job you haven't had the time or the energy, life just kept getting in the way.

So when those words left his mouth, he pretty much confirmed all the things you had been mulling over for weeks. One; that he was getting tired of the relationship, two; that he resented you for not sleeping with him more often and three; that the tabloids were right.

You had watched the game on tv, despite your anger at him you couldn't resist. He played well but you knew he wouldn't be happy with his performance, the standards he holds for himself, ridiculously high. And he seemed distracted, which added to your guilt.

-------------

He rounded the corner and peeked into the living room to see if maybe you were watching TV, the room was empty. He checked the kitchen next, on the island was a plate of food. Like there normally is when he comes home late from a game. He couldn't help but smile, no matter how upset you were, you still couldn't stop yourself from taking care of him. He kicked himself for his stupidity, he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you in his life and he hated making you feel upset.

He checked your home office before deciding you were probably upstairs in bed watching Netflix or something. Slowly he started up the stairs trying to figure out a way to apologize, trying to decide how to make it up to you. Gently he opened the bedroom door. There you were, eyes peeled to the tv screen. You were watching some sort of trashy reality show, the ones you had said were always a good distraction.

"Hey", he said lowly. Not wanting to disturb you too much.

You turned to look at him, the first thing he noticed was how puffy and red your eyes were. His heart broke knowing he was the reason for your tears.

"Hey", you whispered back before turning your attention back to the tv. No mention of the game, no indication that you wanted to indulge in any further conversation.

He stood their awkwardly at the door to his own bedroom, unsure of what to do next. All he wanted to do was give you the hug you so clearly needed but he didn't want to upset you more. "uhm, I'm gonna go take a shower, is it okay if we talk after?", he said warily.

"yeah I guess, whatever, I'm surprised you have the time", your reply was short, alluding to his comment the night before.

"babe c'mon", he sighed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that"

"well how the fuck did you mean it then? I don't think you could have put your point across any clearer!" you snapped turning to face him at the door.

"nah, nah, nah!" he shook his head taking a step toward you, "don't be like that, you know what I'm trying to say! Don't try and act like I'm the only one in the wrong here! How many fucking times are we going to have the same argument? How many times will I need to defend myself?"

Anger filled him again. He was exhausted and frustrated with this. Everytime an outrageous rumor was printed about him in the papers, another fight followed. He was done.

You froze, not expecting him to retaliate so harshly. Tears filled your eyes as you realized he was right, this was as much your fault as his and he had every right to be upset with you too. You still felt the need to defend yourself though.

"It's just so fucking frustrating, like you don't think I don't feel shit about our nonexistent sex life? You dont think I don't want to get back to how we used to be? So when you say shit like that and then add in my pre-existing insecurities, the fact that thousands of woman wanna fuck you in your DMs and then it being in all the papers that they have been...it just makes fucking sense that you would be sleeping around, you're not getting it at home, you look the way you do, you're a footballer for fucks sakes...im sorry I trust you, I do, it's just so fucking hard sometimes" your outburst hit him like a tonne of bricks.

You've had this argument so many times but you'd never actually said out loud how insecure you felt. How jealous you felt. For the first time he could kind of imagine what it felt like, he feels a similar way when he sees guys at the club look you up and down, or when one of his friends comments on your looks. It drives him crazy, but what you had to deal with was worse. Because it was everywhere, all the time. On Instagram and Twitter, in the papers, even in the whispers of people around you when you went out.

"babe...babe I'm sorry, I am. I really didn't mean to make you feel guilty or insecure. I love you, you know that right? And I'm definitely not sleeping around. Okay? You're the only person I'm interested in, the only person I want to sleep with and you genuinely have no reason to be insecure! " he rattled off, moving to sit opposite you on the bed. His hand gently reached up to cup your cheek. His thumb sweeping away the tears rolling down your face. "I am a footballer, but that doesn't mean you're not out of my league"

You grabbed his other hand with both of yours, placing it in your lap. His words temporarily causing you to smile. "I'm sorry I'm like this, I'm sorry I keep bringing this up", you replied looking down at his fingers intertwined with yours.

"hey, look at me", he tilted your head up with his finger so you could look him in the eyes, those beautiful eyes that drew you in all those years ago. "don't ever apologize, it's okay, I know it's hard but I promise you, you have my full attention, always. I love you" he continued.

"I love you too", you smiled at him, leaning in for a kiss, soft and gentle but full of emotion. Immediately making you feel lighter and making the tension in the room dissapte.

He pulled you closer, into a hug. The two of you sat like that, holding one another for ages, a much needed embrace.

"does this mean we can have sex tonight?", he asked teasingly, leading a reluctant laugh to escape your lips as you punched him playfully on the arm.

Leaning back, you looked him in the eyes once more and through a smile you replied, "you've gotta take a shower first, you reek"

Press F

Day 2 for @shigarakiweek: Teamwork

Summary: Keep your enemies close - and your online friends willing to play the support and healer positions even closer. (AKA: Shigaraki unknowingly took Kaminari under his wing while gaming online when he was fifteen, but neither one of them actually bothered to figure out who the other person was and instead became sorta friends.)

Notes: Although this can very much be read on its own and I might write more for these two dumbasses, technically speaking, this is a prequel to Reconfigure and a spoiler for Chapter 24, although it's not a huge deal of the fic. This is pretty cracky, but I'll be damned if it's not one of the funniest things I've ever imagined. I've got a bunch of ridiculous headcanons. I didn't know it was Shigaraki Week this week until this morning, so when I saw the prompt for today, my brain went into over-drive. Hey, I guess I can knock something off my To Write List now? Also, apologies for not being like a ton of thought into Shigaraki's gamer name, but hey, I did my best in the thirty minutes I wrote this.

                                                         - - - - -

ThePalebloodStrider: you up for a few rounds?

TazerBlazer: yeah man i got school tmrw but lol fuck it

ThePaleBloodStrider: you’re an idiot

TazerBlazer: hey my grades aren’t that bad TazerBlazer: also i’m not the one with the creepy ass s/n :P

ThePalebloodStrider: it has meaning

TazerBlazer: yeah lol ok edgelord

ThePalebloodStrider: god you’re such a kid

TazerBlazer: bruh you been know TazerBlazer: we gonna do this or what?

Shigaraki peeled his gloves off to rub his temple. He hated wearing gloves when gaming - they totally messed with his dexterity - but Kurogiri said he couldn’t get another controller for two months if he disintegrated another one. His suggestion to wear gloves had been met with a lot of complaints and stomping around on Shigaraki’s part, but in the end, he’d dug a pair of gloves out of his nightstand and jerked them on with even more grumbling.

It wasn’t his fault that controllers were made to be held with all five fingers or that people online were such fucking idiots. Did these assholes even know how to play? They were wasting his goddamn time. Of course, if he stuck with simple RPGs, then maybe he wouldn’t have so many problems, but he had a viciously competitive side that craved destroying actual people instead of just computer NPCs. There was nothing quite like lording a top-ranked position in multiple rounds over others. Even his teammates got frustrated when he was infinitely above them.

He didn’t know why. They should be grateful since they were so pathetic and dumb. He wasn’t insulting them if it was the truth.

Tazer was different. He had been able to tell right off the bat due to his mic and playing style that he was younger than him, but he was infinitely helpful. Shigaraki wasn’t immature enough to not recognize the signs of someone that would be good in a party. There were a few people that were good at playing roles on a team. He was a leader, but a leader wasn’t a leader unless they had a follower. Tazer was chatty as fuck and tended to make impulsive decisions, but he was also reliable and a great team player.

A dumb, annoying, little shit, but happily willing to play the part of a healer and offer support in every campaign and game they played together, so Shigaraki would take it.

As the game loaded, he idly scratched his neck before remembering to Not Do That and then put his glove back on. Today had been frustrating. Okay, so he was sixteen, but he wasn’t a kid. He was fucking sixteen. There was no need to treat him like a child. Why couldn’t Sensei see that? It was like he flip-flopped between forcing Shigaraki to learn incredibly hard and brutal lessons and then acting like Shigaraki wasn’t capable of doing shit. He was ready for some real fucking action, but no, Sensei said that he had to wait. He was still learning.

It was hard to feel like he was being taught when all he felt was trapped. He knew the world wouldn’t actually want him, so he stayed inside. What little communication he did have beyond Kurogiri, Sensei, and a few of the villains that worked under him was online. And it would always stay like that. That little brat Tazer wouldn’t be so friendly with him if he knew what Shigaraki was actually like. The whole attachment was fake, but it paid off. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t-

“Aha! I got the mic to work. I thought I shorted it out.”

Shigaraki readjusted his headset. “Again?”

“Hey, hey, don’t get on me about that. Didn’t you say this is like your tenth controller?”

It was his fifteenth, but luckily Kurogiri didn’t know about at least six of them. He also didn’t know that Shigaraki might pickpocketed a few of the men that came to visit Sensei over the years. If they weren’t going to take care of their personal property, then what did it matter? Yes, he got a personal allowance that he kept very good track of, but he got in trouble for damaging stuff constantly.

And getting in trouble with Kurogiri was one thing, but with Sensei? Displeasing him was...unsettling. It was perhaps the only reason Shigaraki hadn’t argued with him more over things, especially since the fight that left him severely injured. He was recovering, which was why Shigaraki wanted to do more for him, but no, they had to stay quiet for now.

He had to be good - which meant no more destroying stuff in a temper tantrum.

“Whatever,” Shigaraki shot back. “You need to learn how to control your quirk more.”

“I am!” Tazer insisted. “I’m getting real good at it. I mean, my parents get onto me all the time because maybe I fry a few things once in a while, but I can even charge my own stuff now.”

“You’re using all your brain cells to charge up your electronics.”

“Well, you’re using all yours to be an asshat,” Tazer laughed.

Shigaraki furrowed his brow. No, he used his to be smart about shit unlike most people online. Okay, so he was probably an asshole too, but he didn’t need his brain for that. He could be one simply because he was better than most people on here. He liked to come up with strategies and plans, which Tazer dutifully followed for the most part. Young as he was, he liked being helpful, and he liked winning even more. At least he recognized his leadership qualities.

It wasn’t bragging if he knew he was smart. Tazer had been astounded that Shigaraki figured out he had an electricity quirk, but honestly, it was a no-brainer considering his gaming tag. Plus, he always felt like people with electricity quirks had more energy. Maybe that was why Tazer never seemed to have any issues staying up at all hours of the night gaming despite having school the next day.

When their game finally started to load, Shigaraki relaxed. The other team was filled with players holding high ranks. Man, it was going to be good to smash them. Nothing quite like taking down a few egos. Someone could play fifty times more than another player, but timing playing would never beat natural talent or inherent skill. It was why he stuck with Tazer. The kid played using instincts.

“Oh!” Tazer exclaimed excitedly. “Did you see the trailer for that new Godzilla movie?”

“There’s another one?” Shigaraki scoffed. “What’s this one? Thirty?”

“Don’t knock it, bro. It looks awesome! I’ll DM you the link.”

“I’m not gonna watch it.”

Tazer blew a raspberry. “Just watch it!” A notification popped up in the corner of his screen alerting him to a message with half of a YouTube link showing. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I doubt it.” Shigaraki would watch it later, but he might not admit it for a while. Let the kid hang a little. It was good to starve people of immediate validation - made them more patient. At least that was probably what Sensei thought. He could probably stand to work on his patience more, but he was getting better. He hadn’t thrown a fit the last time his connection had lagged while playing.

“E3 is coming up, so you’ve got a site to stream that, right, ‘cause-”

“Hey, kid!” some asshole from the other team named TopAlpha1321 barked. “You gonna ramble the entire game like a dweeb? Shut the hell up!”

“Stop being such a bottom,” Shigaraki snapped before muting the guy. He could see his name light up as he went off, but nothing could be heard.

“Eh? But his name says ‘Top’?” Tazer paused thoughtfully. “What’s a bottom?”

Shigaraki choked and held the mic of his headset to keep from being heard. Oh, shit, he knew that Tazer was a few years younger than him, but sometimes he forgot how much of a gap in information about shit there could be between their ages. Truth be told, he only knew about the term because of listening to chatter while gaming and accidentally stumbling across a very reprehensible site that nearly made him disintegrate his computer, but Tazer was dumb enough to look it up and-

Tazer laughed. “I’m just fucking with you, dude! I know what that is. I’ve got the internet.”

“You’re too young for that,” Shigaraki admonished, half out of shock and half in irritation for being tricked. Tazer might’ve been younger and a dumbass at times, but he could be a clever, little shit too when he wanted to be. It was probably why they worked so well together.

“What are you? My older brother?”

“Shut up and follow me.”

“Copy that, Captain.”

Shigaraki didn’t know why he put up with him. Oh, wait, that’s right - because the kid was quick as shit and always seemed to know when he needed back-up or to be healed. Maybe he wasn’t the best shot and he couldn’t tank for shit, but damn if he wasn’t sharp in that respect. People naturally good at support roles were not to be knocked. After all, a party couldn’t be complete or well-rounded without them. When it was time for him to take over and lead in Sensei’s stead, he’d made sure that he had a good team.

hello people from old and new! naomi is back in action with her son jerome. i’ve been stuck in my sisters house for the last weeks of my absence because she went on vacation and i had to take care of a sick rabbit who peed everywhere. i might have a disease now at the amount he bit me but what can you do. im joking. you might ask “but naomi doesnt your sister have wifi” yes she do but i’m an anxious wreck so spending my days on a first floor apartment  with my sister on the other side of the world w an infected foot had me fucke d upppp boiii but now i’m back in my own home and my sister + her boyfriend are safely home!! foot all fine!! and everyone is calm again!! so!! i can return with a good heart. i’ll be sliding in the dms of the people who bear emoticon’ed me 600 years ago and bc i suck w introducing myself to new people i’ll just hi!!!!! i think when i wake up i’m gonna do a “bio reading” marathon as i write bc i need to appreciate. also shit i need more threads wow i suck might see me replying to some open starters and def need to get back to plotting bc there are some people i’ve been dying to thread with ;^;

its like 6am now so i might b heading 2 bed now but under the cut there will be a reintroduction to jerome (one i promised in januari i believe) as im rewriting his bio (no major things change really its just minor things nd its time for an upgrade) so yes! hello (ims will come tomorrow as well ;3;)

also fact. mullet daddy jaebum is jerome rn dont drag him dont @ him its gone before you know it. probs after idolized its a look tho wow i love- a chic farmer (... the short bangs are tragic tho jerome honey i kno u liked them on wren but ur not wren. jerome: but i- me: no. this this not this jerome: :( ok fine me: fuego 

anyway before i pass out here is reintroduction. the triggers are; adoption, racism themes??? like yeah ok!! apologize if this is shit. hope everyone is having a good day though you all are great!

Jerome Gauthier aka Yuddy

-Anti idol

-Has an okay reputation but that’s because he’s smart about things.

-BC eyeing him tho *eyes fake friends with good reputation for him to hang out with* (hmu for fake friend plots. funny the person w the best rep of all actually likes jerome. bless jisoos christ. guess that praying on knees worked out in the end huh jerome. /dont/ sainthood is waiting)

-Talented™. (ask him to write songs for you) (Actually have a few songs in my library i want him to write but not sing so *eyes*)

-Passionate as fuck don’t mess with him in the studio (passionate all over tbh)

-Adopted and in search of his bloodlines

-Hoe but not really

-Actually, scrap that. Nicknames him JerHOEme

-Is actually lovely

-But acts like a shit

-Slips up and is soft to people sometimes before being a complete and utter asshole the next second

-bc soft jerome whOMST i only know deMON

-Suave Fuckboy who’s nonchalant about everything

-French™

-Will call you baby at some point in your life

-Signature smirk

-Egotistic???? Narcissistic??? a lil bit don’t stroke his ego

-Secretive™. not much info on his time in france

-Secretly a dad without children (except for his actual biological son insoo aka chorizo sausage who he goes to play ball with- i mean work on songs in the studio. seriously catch him picking up his son from soccer practice i mean shit no i mean- ok insoo is really his son dont fight me on this.)

-And also has a daughter an Oriental shorthair cat called Edith who he is so soft with he kicks out girls to cuddle with her. (one meow and he’s home)

- we support WISH hating jerome in this household. please people who have girls in WISH dont let them like him (or be a rebel and go against the mothers wishes but you’ve been warned)

-Dont let him get in your pants too like ask wren you dont want that (or i mean with the list of kinks i peeped maybe idk who am i to say what your muse wants or does not want idk im just protecting people from satan)

-Unlikely he’ll get in any pants now anyway tho bc he a proud shopper at papa juliens pizza and y’all some other brand type ish domino lookin asses NAH *throws hands up* rome’s in the house (no but guys. this is his soulmate THIS IS HIM. dISgUStiNG- )

-In 2016 interview took him out of context and it looks like he hates all idol rappers but is not true. He just doesn’t like companies making rap out to be like this thing you can do if you’re pretty and you can’t sing and he doesn’t like it when said pretty idols know nothing of it. he gets the grind but will side eye (benjy nd jerome already have a rivalry bc of this shit thank u interviewer)

-Dating scandals?? EHH. He almost had one with a Japanese model called Momo in the beginning of his career but BC did well of spinning them as friends and he legit had one with his ex last october which?????????? shit she touched his *spoiler* and it was *spoiler* . BC about to ban him from fashion shows damn. yoonah and him have to go to paris fashion week quick

-BC has yet to force him into a relationship tho. but damn he gonna be angry when that ever happens yoo. 

-Studied to become a cinematographer. Now is annoying as fuck during recording MV’s bc he butts into everything (BUT thats why his his mvs so AESTHETIC. eye for beauty bois)

-Holler at ya boi if you want a nice mv he’s involved like that

-Also to the girls who have been in an MV with Jerome.. know he probably flirted with you between takes bc during he’s grade a professionalism but he still a ho

-Actual catlady no questions asked (he feeds stray cats and gets cut up by edith when she smells other cats on him rip)

-Actual wife material no questions asked (to quote the great Halit Yilmaz during that time Jerome stood in the kitchen for hours making baklava and other Turkish treats for Halit’s Eid al-Fitr: “Shit, Jerome if you were a girl i’d marry you in a heartbeat.” and its true. we would ALL marry jerome. who says no is lying. )

-Smooth™

-Ok the ego thing btw its weird its an act but hes weird about it dont ask

idk what else to write ok short rundown of his bio as again i’m writing a new one and i cringe every time i look at my old one. im probs forgetting a lot but EYO ITS 6AM WHO CARES

CHILDHOOD age 0 to 10

-Born to a single mom who got fucked over by a smash nd dash dad. (we side eye Ok Chanwook in this household.)

-Moms family discouraged her from taking care of him herself so putting up for adoption it is.

-Very emotional not ok mom boram cry a lot pls. (got v angry too like boi if she ever sees chanwook again he can change his name to no dick larry)

-Adopted by a French couple called Lucas and Daphné (previously named Annelies). pretty kool peeps

-JK racist assholes who fetishize jerome a lot. PLEASE. the yellow fever runs deep. take him away from them,

-Raised in a small town in France and knew 0 Asians growing up. so thats nice

-Loves his adoptive grandpa to death tho (who’s he named after u3u)

-Actually hates the rest lol

-Ok uncle Rémy pretty cool bc he laughs at teen!Jerome shit talking his parents and aunt Camille. She a sweety ;3; a bit odd but a sweety #stanauntCamille

-Basically the people on the Gauthier side and born from Jerome and Clemintine are ok, the rest is shit (except for his dad Lucas. He a Gauthier but he shit)

-Junior/Senior relationship w granpda ;3; “Pépé!!” “Junior!!” *tiny jerome swings around grandpa’s neck* LOVE

-Grandma passed when he was 9. (he loved her very much and would always show her his drawings on her bed ;-;)

-Hard time adjusting at first when he was a tiny toddler. had a lisp talking french. ;3; baby rome

-young jerome had a bad case of the abandonment issues he literally held onto his dads leg for like 30 minutes before the teacher finally peeled him away from him. my smol boi

-Elephants. remember this. is important. /sob

-TLDR; biological mom didnt want to loose him. adoptive parents and dad are fucks. grandpa is kool. jerome had a good childhood until he didnt. thank u ignorance

TEEN YEARS age 10 to 20

-middle school very nice

-j FUCKING KKKKK EMO JEROME INBOUNDDDD

-kids are mean. teens are mean. young!jerome v lonely

-honestly he had no friends. except for like maybe this one kid on his sport called mattheo but he kinda a weeb so uhhhh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-the time comes that he feels uncomfortable with everything korean. he already learned korean along side french and english when he was growing up but now distances himself from further learning. he clings to french culture a lot and even to this day he refers to himself as french and european, and rarely refers to himself as korean or asian.

-feels disconnected from both though. its like.. his parents took his korean culture away from him by using it for their own amusement. it was not his to have basically. and french- a lot of people around him give the vibe he’s not “allowed” to call himself fully french. they see him as korean, korean-french but never just french. he feels very misunderstood. lack of identity and just not fitting in

-around this time (or earlier i’m musing still) his cousin Antonin (moms side) kind of fell out on him. like. wow. not good. fucked jerome up a lil. (issues intensify)

-inferiority complex inbound/ is he ok? no he isnt. he starts writing to get his emotions out.

-Blessed Freddy rolled in teen jerome’s life like: guess we need to do history homework together jerome: aren’t you gonna make a ‘do my homework bc you’re asian’ joke freddy: why would i jerome:

-they bond over music, freddy is the one who gets him serious about getting into it (we thank our lord freddy for this gift of life we call singer/songwriter jerome. pray to freddy 10 times a day *srry jisoos christ but ur out*)

-literally young jerome would be a great soundcloud artist in this day and age. he was like joji meets rei brown with more of an rnb tinge. he liked ambient because it calmed him.

-in his old bio thats still up bc im a slow writer his old name was some dumb shit like l.only DUMB its romeles now (get it.. jeROME LESlie gauthier. im smart)

-OK IM GONNA GO QUICKER NOW

-eMO FOR A LONG TIME BC OF LONELINESS AND OTHERING FREDDY IS HIS BEACON OF HOPE WE LOVE FREDDY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!!!!!!

-had a big ass fall out with his parents when he was around 15? was like “UHHH FUCK Y’ALL” and moved in with his grandpa (he was very disrespectful like damn boy but you know what. i support)

-best decision of his life because grandpa v lonely after his wife died and Jerome^2 is… so soft.

-Jerome dancing/singing to old tunes and being engrossed with old movies

-Learning how to cook ;3;

-I mean bc his middle and highschool were in Laval he spend a lot of his time w his grandpa already so he already had a bed and ;-; #jerome^2

-Halit rolls into his life. Braces, huge smile, lil prepubescent stash ohmygod. My child.

-BLANC is born. Freddy/Jerome/Halit’s musical trio. Stan the Three Musketeers

-Found his first best friend and a purpose in Freddy. Found a home in Halit. (sob)

-Finds solace in rnb and hiphop. People start noticing him because of it. Writes songs and performs them in café’s. Found his niche. 15 to 19 where his “best”  years

-THE BIG MOVE. After a concerned halit mom, a proud freddy mom and a “WHAT THE FUCK JEROME NO DONT GO” jerome mom they pack their bags and PARIS HERE WE COME

-Enter ex who haunts his life, Seo Yumi aka Marie (now model, v pretty, makes me cry)

-Spots her in the summer doing yoga in the park and boi he an assman so he got fucked up (jk he saw her face and was like wHAT love at first sight

-enrolls in film school, meets her there again and wow falls in love hard like wow calm down boy

-Dating~~~v possessive not good at ALL cALM DOWN JEROME

-ok he got his issues nd marie was the first one who openly listened to his problems and understood and made him appreciate his korean heritige bc she’s korean and showed him cultural aspects without the gross fetishizing that came with his parents and he just- he got intense ok. he already got a v intense personality so- still not good tho he needs to dial it down

-she thought so too and like after a year she was !!!! what the fuck. she is not one for serious relationships but jerome was like ehhh why not in the beginning its v nice to hear nd be seen as the most beautiful ok but then it got suffocating but instead of breaking up with him she kept him around. he a safe haven ya know. reliable. someone to built on later. *i wanna say she also didnt break up w him because his emo stories but marie,,, eh...* (funny tho like she got a thing for bad boys so she just “this is the fifth time you called me beautiful just degrade me lil like choke me idk” and jerome just “w-why would i do that you’re beautiful i dont want to hurt you” ah *looks into the future* ohhowthetableshaveturned.mp4 )

-Marie cheated on him the second she got the chance which was when jerome went to america w his bros

-Got offered a job as a songwriter when in ny. Wouldnt think he’d take it but after getting kicked out of school for beating the shit out of the guy marie cheated on him with and with marie out of the picture nothing held him back from starting a new life.

-TLDR; emo era. silver era. emo era 2 emo harder

ADULTHOOD age 20 to now

-Seoul make way for the rise of YUDDY™

-the name yuddy is from the film days of being wild. the character is kinda yuddy-ish too so he saw the film again and yep. thats my name

-Fuck_love.mp3

-Visits his orphanage. they like “nah boi u aint got no papers boi”

-Parents can give him access to his birthmother btw, aren’t doing it lol

-EMO

-Drinks. Sleeps around. Gets a reputation. You kno how it is. (gr8 ride tho. highly recommend. 5 out of 5 stars on yelp)

-SMASH ND DASH. Chanwook is that u??????

-One girl who he got with multiple times reminded him of Marie tho and that fucked him up for a bit (PSST ITS A PLOT WINK SO IF YA GIRL OF AGE IN THE 2013′S HMU BC ITS DRAMATIC HE GHOSTED THE SHIT OUT OF HER)

-Writes a lot of songs, a few for BC (knight baes). BC like *eye emoji* who dat boi who him iz

-Gets sign w BCreate and is like eyy life pretty good

-but lmao he debut and oh who’s that pretty girl promoting that lipstick?? oh.. its marie ;3;

-imfine.jpeg

-Joins main label and literally joins w a blessing stream limbo on spotify

-wgm era was a great era of jerome lmty his hair was great, shared cute personal things, manager was happy, slept with his best friend, was married to a sweet beautiful girl ya know the good stuff  👍 no im not crying you are

-triple fantasy era was awful we dont talk about that he looked like his brother and i’m still emotional about him wow. 

-instagram is a great song

-Interviewer: u mention an ex in ur song tell me more Jerome: *SWEATS*  

-Marie: my short hair DOES look pretty thank u babe ur red hair was cute too <3<3

-The fact she linked to him now is spook

-But ok he still flirty, still daring, still yuddy™ but definitely less of the whole “sleeping around” thing now bc he… he uhh closetoyou.mp3

TLDR; he turned into his dad but romeo is rising AND HE IS SCARED!!!!!

also never forget jerome is the messiest king in this ok non y’all are as messy as him. he fucked his ex’s friend oK THERE IS NOTHING MORE MESSY. dONT COME FOR HIS CROWN

The last two months have been tough for business at Eso Won Books in Los Angeles. The store, which opened in 1990, specializes in African-American literature and has never had to close its doors to the public for such a long time before. But it was forced to do so when the coronavirus pandemic hit in March. And while its staff has been taking online orders in the meantime and re-opened for walk-in customers last week, recent days have seen another major change. “Since Friday, we’ve had close to 500 online orders for about eight to 10 different books on antiracism and race,” says Eso Won’s co-founder James Fugate. “It’s been overwhelming.”

As protests against racial injustice and police brutality have spread across the U.S. and beyond after the killings of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery, the demand for books about race and antiracism internationally has soared. Ibram X. Kendi’s How to Be an Anti-Racist, Reni Eddo-Lodge’s Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race and Ijeoma Oluo’s So You Want to Talk About Race are just a few of the titles that have sold out on Amazon in the U.S., with some third party sellers hiking up prices to more than $50 for paperback copies.

All three of those authors have pointed readers in the direction of independent booksellers, and black-owned bookstore owners in particular say they’ve noticed a difference in sales over the weekend. “We’ve seen a tremendous increase, and I think it really is stemming from white people,” says Ramunda Lark Young, co-founder of Washington-based MahoganyBooks, an independent bookstore specializing in books written for, by or about people from the African diaspora. “In light of recent events, a lot of people are now feeling a very visceral response in how they show up in this world, and how they see it from our lens.”

Other titles with new popularity include Layla F. Saad’s Me and White Supremacy and Robin DiAngelo and Michael Eric Dyson’s White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism, as well as older books like James Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time and Michelle Alexander’s The New Jim Crow. Popular posts on social media have highlighted anti-racist reading lists, and selections compiled by Kendi gained attention over the weekend.

For black booksellers and publishers who have been promoting these titles for years, it’s encouraging that people are now turning to books to further their own knowledge, rather than expecting the black community to educate them. Ramunda Young, who co-founded MahoganyBooks with her husband, Derrick Young, says the uptick in sales has stemmed from people asking themselves, “How do I take it upon myself to go and read, go learn and go study, rather than expect those experiences to come from the mouths of black people?”

“There has been real progress with people being made aware of the state of racial issues in the country,” Fugate says. “All my life, I’ve heard and learned about these things. But the more people become aware, the more they can talk about these issues with their families, their friends and their kids.”

The spike of interest in books about race extends beyond the U.S. In Britain, it’s a similar conversation. “A lot of people now are looking in the mirror at themselves,” says Aimée Felone, co-founder of Knights Of and Round Table Books, a children’s publisher and bookshop based in London specializing in diverse stories for kids. U.K.-based publisher Sharmaine Lovegrove, says the dozen or so big-hitting titles that have been circulating on social media are a good starting point for understanding racism, but, she adds, the work of allies has to go beyond that, particularly at a traumatic time for black communities both in the U.S. and abroad. Lovegrove’s imprint Dialogue Books publishes writers from diverse backgrounds, and over the weekend, shared its own reading list via its social media accounts in response to recent events. “Why I’m Longer Talking to White People About Race is a great primer, and Me and White Supremacy is a great toolbook, but then what happens?” she says, adding that buying diverse books from different genres is more effective than “one book that tells them what they’ve got to do and makes them think they’ve done the work.”

Beyond reading the more well-known books, Lovegrove encourages readers to seek out novels and short stories by black authors that show the diversity of experience. “Each life is unique and entirely different, and fiction is the best way to take all of that learning from those toolbooks and bring it into practice with understanding the nuance of blackness,” she says. “It’s better to read than to slide into your one black friend’s DMs and ask them how they’re feeling, because we were feeling like this last week. It’s really triggering and really upsetting.”

And for some, the increased demand for books about race and antiracism being sparked by extreme injustice and violence is bittersweet. “I hate that people have to lose a family member or a loved one to instigate other people to be proactive and understand their own biases,” says MahoganyBooks’ Derrick Young.

For Felone in London, the recent surge is a reminder that people weren’t already doing the work they should have been. “While this moment of realization is a great thing, there’s been a long time prior where people haven’t had their eyes opened,” she says. “I do wonder how that feeds into the younger generation.”

Booksellers and publishers are quick to point out that the work may start with reading a book, but it can’t end there. Supporting black-owned bookshops over a sustained period of time and having conversations about the books in question are crucial, Ramunda Young says. “Hopefully people are taking a moment to really look at how they have missed a lot of the marks in engaging with the black community. If you’re really serious about changing, contributing and impacting the larger world, pay those organizations that have been supporting and focusing on this work for years.”

TIME asked the booksellers and publishers interviewed for this article for their further reading recommendations. Here, 13 books on race and antiracism to read right now.

History and Journalism

Conversations in Black: On Politics, Power and Leadership, Ed Gordon (2020)

Journalist Ed Gordon brings together prominent voices in black America to discuss the future of black leadership. “This book is a great opportunity to be a fly on the wall in a conversation amongst over 40 different leaders, entertainers and entrepreneurs,” says Ramunda Young. “People can get a real holistic sense of the topics we engage with all the time.”

55, Underemployed and Faking Normal: Your Guide to a Better Retirement Life, Elizabeth White (2019)

Elizabeth White’s 2019 book is a deeply researched resource providing practical solutions with a focus on retirement and maximizing savings. “This takes a look at a lot of the things that come to black people financially, and COVID-19 has kind of peeled back that really dire state that we are in,” Ramunda Young says. “It’s a really personal story, and it’s one not just black people can relate to.”

An African American and Latinx History of the United States, Paul Ortiz (2018)

Paul Ortiz offers an intersectional history of the shared struggle for African American and Latinx civil rights, spanning two centuries. “This moment is not just about reading books on antiracism, it’s about reading books about our history,” says Derrick Young. “This book is incredible because essentially Ortiz is sending everyone back to high school history, and explaining history from the perspective not of the conquerors, but the people who were the victims of brutality, slavery and annexations, and how they fought back.”

Chokehold: Policing Black Men, Paul Butler (2017)

Former prosecutor Paul Butler examines modern American policing and how criminal justice laws and practices impact black men. “His book is really the best book I’ve read in the last 10 years about race relations in the U.S.,” James Fugate says. In it, Butler describes his own encounters with the police.

Memoir

What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker: A Memoir in Essays, Damon Young (2019)

This memoir-in-essays offers a look at what it means to be black and male in America, by the co-founder of the news and culture website VerySmartBrothas.com. “This book breaks down some of the stereotypes about black men, where the author talks about all of his vulnerabilities, self-esteem issues and how he deals with confronting what the world has told him he is,” Derrick Young says. “Black men are dealing with this mask that has been forced on us, and that’s not who we are.”

Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates (2015)

James Fugate recommends Between the World and Me, written in the form of a letter from Ta-Nehisi Coates to his teenage son. It chronicles Coates’ life growing up as a young man in Baltimore and his journey to becoming a writer. In 2014, Coates’ article for the Atlantic, ‘The Case for Reparations,’ gained widespread attention and in 2019, he testified in a U.S. House of Representatives hearing on the topic.

Fiction

Rainbow Milk, Paul Mendez (2020)

Lovegrove recommends Mendez’s debut novel, published by her imprint Dialogue Books. The book follows 19-year-old Jesse McCarthy, a young black man in Britain as he grapples with his racial and sexual identities. “It takes really big concepts — a black, gay Jehovah’s Witness boy leaves his family and becomes a sex worker in London — and it’s written with such humility and such beauty that it’s really engaging for the reader,” Lovegrove says.

The Water Dancer, Ta-Nehisi Coates (2019)

The Water Dancer is Coates’ debut novel, set in a surrealist version of the 19th-century Deep South and features a protagonist with superpowers. “It has a lot of magical realism to it, and I just loved that,” says Fugate.

Children’s and Young Adult

Recommended by Aimée Felone.

This Book is Anti-Racist: 20 Lessons on How to Wake Up, Take Action, and Do the Work by Tiffany Jewell (2020)

“I felt completely powerless when I was young. I was able to identify racism and injustice, but did not have the language to talk about it and definitely did not know how to stand-up, especially against racist adults,” antiracism educator Tiffany Jewell said in an interview for World Book Day. Her debut book is designed to do just that: equip young people with the tools they need to be actively antiracist.

Anti-Racist Baby, Ibram X. Kendi (2020)

This upcoming picture book from the best-selling author of the moment, Kendi, shows kids nine steps to building a more equitable and antiracist world. It will be published June 16.

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Jason Reynolds and Ibram X. Kendi (2020)

An adaptation of Kendi’s Stamped From the Beginning targeted at young adults, this collaboration between the original author and celebrated children’s writer Jason Reynolds seeks to explain why young people are growing up in a world of racism, and what they can do about it.

Brown Girl Dreaming, Jacqueline Woodson (2014)

National Book Award-winning author Jacqueline Woodson tells the story of her childhood through poetry, detailing her experiences as a black girl growing up in 1960s South Carolina and New York.

A is for Activist, Innosanto Nagara (2013)

Innosanto Nagara initially wrote, illustrated and self-published this board book for his own children out of a desire to see a progressive book about the alphabet for younger children. It has since become a bestseller, with over 125,000 copies in print.

Mort hurried out after him. The ancient ancestor watched them go with a critical expression, its jowls rhythmically chewing. 'That was what they call a demon around here?' it said. 'Offler rot this country of dampness, even their demons are third-rate, not a patch on the demons we had in the Old Country.' The wife placed a small bowl of rice in the folded middle pair of hands of the Offler statue (it would be gone in the morning) and stood back. 'Husband did say that last month at the Curry Gardens he served a creature who was not there,' she said. 'He was impressed.' Ten minutes later the man returned and, in solemn silence, placed a small heap of gold coins on the table. They represented enough wealth to purchase quite a large part of the city. 'He had a bag of them,' he said. The family stared at the money for some time. The wife sighed. 'Riches bring many problems,' she said. 'What are we to do?' 'We return to Klatch,' said the husband firmly, 'where our children can grow up in a proper country, true to the glorious traditions of our ancient race and men do not need to work as waiters for wicked masters but can stand tall and proud. And we must leave right now, fragrant blossom of the date palm.' 'Why so soon, O hard-working son of the desert?' 'Because,' said the man, 'I have just sold the Patrician's champion racehorse.' The horse wasn't as fine or as fast as Binky, but it swept the miles away under its hooves and easily outdistanced a few mounted guards who, for some reason, appeared anxious to talk to Mort. Soon the shanty suburbs of Morpork were left behind and the road ran out into rich black earth country of the Sto plain, constructed over eons by the periodic flooding of the great slow Ankh that brought to the region prosperity, security and chronic arthritis. It was also extremely boring. As the light distilled from silver to gold Mort galloped across a flat, chilly landscape, chequered with cabbage fields from edge to edge. There are many things to be said about cabbages. One may talk at length about their high vitamin content, their vital iron contribution, the valuable roughage and commendable food value. In the mass, however, they lack a certain something; despite their claim to immense nutritional and moral superiority over, say, daffodils, they have never been a sight to inspire the poet's muse. Unless he was hungry, of course. It was only twenty miles to Sto Lat, but in terms of meaningless human experience it seemed like two thousand. There were guards on the gates of Sto Lat, although compared to the ones that patrolled Ankh they had a sheepish, amateurish look. Mort trotted past and one of them, feeling a bit of a fool, asked him who went there. 'I'm afraid I can't stop,' said Mort. The guard was new to the job, and quite keen. Guarding wasn't what he'd been led to expect. Standing around all day in chain mail with an axe on a long pole wasn't what he'd volunteered for; he'd expected excitement and challenge and a crossbow and a uniform that didn't go rusty in the rain. He stepped forward, ready to defend the city against people who didn't respect commands given by duly authorised civic employees. Mort considered the pike blade hovering a few inches from his face. There was getting to be too much of this. 'On the other hand,' he said calmly, 'how would you like it if I made yon a present of this rather fine horse?' It wasn't hard to find the entrance to the castle. There were guards there, too, and they had crossbows and a considerably more unsympathetic outlook on life and, in any case, Mort had run out of horses. He loitered a bit until they started paying him a generous amount of attention, and then wandered disconsolately away into the streets of the little city, feeling stupid. After all this, after miles of brassicas and a backside that now felt like a block of wood, he didn't even know why he was there. So she'd seen him even when he was invisible? Did it mean anything? Of course it didn't. Only he kept seeing her face, and the flicker of hope in her eyes. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be all right. He wanted to tell her about himself and everything he wanted to be. He wanted to find out which was her room in the castle and watch it all night until the light went out. And so on. A little later a blacksmith, whose business was in one of the narrow streets that looked out on to the castle walls, glanced up from his work to see a tall, gangling young man, rather red in the face, who kept trying to walk through the walls. Rather later than that a young man with a few superficial bruises on his head called in at one of the city's taverns and asked for directions to the nearest wizard. And it was later still that Mort turned up outside a peeling plaster house which announced itself on a blackened brass plaque to be the abode of Igneous Cutwell, DM (Unseen), Marster of the Infinit, Illuminartus, Wyzard to Princes, Gardian of the Sacred Portalls, If Out leave Maile with Mrs Nugent Next Door. Suitably impressed despite his pounding heart, Mort lifted the heavy knocker, which was in the shape of a repulsive gargoyle with a heavy iron ring in its mouth, and knocked twice. There was a brief commotion from within, the series of hasty domestic sounds that might, in a less exalted house, have been made by, say, someone shovelling the lunch plates into the sink and tidying the laundry out of sight. Eventually the door swung open, slowly and mysteriously. 'You'd fbetter pretend to be impreffed,' said the doorknocker conversationally, but hampered somewhat by the ring. 'He does it with pulleys and a bit of ftring. No good at opening-fpells, fee?' Mort looked at the grinning metal face. I work for a skeleton who can walk through walls, he told himself. Who am I to be surprised at anything? 'Thank you,' he said. 'You're welcome. Wipe your feet on the doormat, it's the bootfcraper's day off.' The big low room inside was dark and shadowy and smelled mainly of incense but slightly of boiled cabbage arid elderly laundry and the kind of person who throws all his socks at the wall and wears the ones that don't stick. There was a large crystal ball with a crack in it, an astrolabe with several bits missing, a rather scuffed octogram on the floor, and a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling. A stuffed alligator is absolutely standard equipment in any properly-run magical establishment. This one looked as though it hadn't enjoyed it much. A bead curtain on the far wall was flung aside with a dramatic gesture and a hooded figure stood revealed. 'Beneficent constellations shine on the hour of our meeting!' it boomed. 'Which ones?' said Mort. There was a sudden worried silence. 'Pardon?' 'Which constellations would these be?' said Mort. 'Beneficent ones,' said the figure, uncertainly. It rallied. 'Why do you trouble Igneous Cutwell, Holder of the Eight Keys, Traveller in the Dungeon Dimensions, Supreme Mage of —' 'Excuse me,' said Mort, 'are you really?' 'Really what?' 'Master of the thingy, Lord High Wossname of the Sacred Dungeons?' Cutwell pushed back his hood with an annoyed flourish. Instead of the grey-bearded mystic Mort had expected he saw a round, rather plump face, pink and white like a pork pie, which it somewhat resembled in other respects. For example, like most pork pies, it didn't have a beard and, like most pork pies, it looked basically good-humoured. 'In a figurative sense,' he said. 'What does that mean?' 'Well, it means no,' said Cutwell. 'But you said —' 'That was advertising,' said the wizard. 'It's a kind of magic I've been working on. What was it you were wanting, anyway?' He leered suggestively. 'A love philtre, yes? Something to encourage the young ladies?' 'Is it possible to walk through walls?' said Mort desperately. Cutwell paused with his hand already halfway to a large bottle full of sticky liquid. 'Using magic?' 'Um,' said Mort, 'I don't think so.' Then pick very thin walls,' said Cutwell. 'Better still, use the door. The one over there would be favourite, if you've just come here to waste my time.' Mort hesitated, and then put the bag of gold coins on the table. The wizard glanced at them, made a little whinnying noise in the back of his throat, and reached out, Mort's hand shot across and grabbed his wrist. 'I've walked through walls,' he said, slowly and deliberately. 'Of course you have, of course you have,' mumbled Cutwell, not taking his eyes off the bag. He flicked the cork out of the bottle of blue liquid and took an absent-minded swig. 'Only before I did it I didn't know that I could, and when I was doing it I didn't know I was, and now I've done it I can't remember how it was done. And I want to do it again.' 'Why?' 'Because,' said Mort, 'if I could walk through walls I could do anything.' 'Very deep,' agreed Cutwell. 'Philosophical. And the name of the young lady on the other side of this wall?' 'She's —' Mort swallowed. 'I don't know her name. Even if there is a girl,' he added haughtily, 'and I'm not saying there is.' 'Right,' said Cutwell. He took another swig, and shuddered. 'Fine. How to walk through walls. I'll do some research. It might be expensive, though.' Mort carefully picked up the bag and pulled out one small gold coin. 'A down payment,' he said, putting it on the table. Cutwell picked up the coin as if he expected it to go bang or evaporate, and examined it carefully. 'I've never seen this sort of coin before,' he said accusingly. 'What's all this curly writing?' 'It's gold, though, isn't it?' said Mort. 'I mean, you don't have to accept it —' 'Sure, sure, it's gold,' said Cutwell hurriedly. 'It's gold all right. I just wondered where it had come from, that's all.' 'You wouldn't believe me,' said Mort. 'What time's sunset around here?' 'We normally manage to fit it in between night and day,' said Cutwell, still staring at the coin and taking little sips from the blue bottle. 'About now.' Mort glanced out of the window. The street outside already had a twilight look to it. 'I'll be back,' he muttered, and made for the door. He heard the wizard call out something, but Mort was heading down the street at a dead run. He started to panic. Death would be waiting for him forty miles away. There would be a row. There would be a terrible — AH, BOY. A familiar figure stepped out from the flare around a jellied eel stall, holding a plate of winkles. THE VINEGAR IS PARTICULARLY PIQUANT. HELP YOURSELF, I HAVE AN EXTRA PIN. But, of course, just because he was forty miles away didn't mean he wasn't here as well. . . . And in his untidy room Cutwell turned the gold coin over and over in his fingers, muttering 'walls' to himself, and draining the bottle. He appeared to notice what he was doing only when there was no more to drink, at which point his eyes focused on the bottle and, through a rising pink mist, read the label which said 'Granny Weatherwax's Ramrub Invigoratore and Passion's Philtre, Onne Spoonful Onlie before bed and that Smalle'. 'By myself?' said Mort. CERTAINLY. I HAVE EVERY FAITH IN YOU. 'Gosh!' The suggestion put everything else out of Mort's mind, and he was rather surprised to find that he didn't feel particularly squeamish. He'd seen quite a few deaths in the last week or so, and all the horror went out of it when you knew you'd be speaking to the victim afterwards. Most of them were relieved, one or two of them were angry, but they were all glad of a few helpful words. THINK YOU CAN DO IT? 'Well, sir. Yes. I think.' THAT'S THE SPIRIT. I'VE LEFT BlNKY BY THE HORSETROUGH ROUND THE CORNER. TAKE HIM STRAIGHT HOME WHEN YOU'VE FINISHED.