fear the cure!

What we mean when we talk about autism acceptance

There are two fundamental ways of viewing disability in relation to society: the social model of disability and the medical model of disability. Supporters of the medical model of disability says “autistic people don’t fit into our society, so we must fix autistic people” while supporters of the social model of disability says “autistic people don’t fit into our society, so we must fix society.” People who advocate for autism acceptance support the social model of disability.

The two models of disability comes down to one basic question - do we need to change individual people so that they can fit into our current society, or do we need to change society so that it becomes inclusive of and available to the many neurodivergent and disabled people who are currently left on the sidelines? It’s not enough to be aware of autism if you still see autistic people as mistakes to be fixed, which is why we support autism acceptance instead of autism awareness. Most people in the western world are aware that autism exists - but what does it matter that we’re aware of the existence of autism if we don’t use that awareness to accept and include autistic people for who they are?

We object to the idea that autistic brains are “wrong” and “bad”. We object to the idea that having an autistic brain is inherently negative. We object to the idea that autistic brains should be fixed. We support neurodiversity - the idea that autism and other developmental disorders and neurodivergences aren’t mistakes, but that they are natural variations of human neurology which should be embraced and accepted and acknowledged for their unique contributions. Neurodiversity is the belief that neurodivergent brains don’t need to be fixed or corrected, but that they’re a natural and important part of human diversity.

We object to the idea that autism should be cured. Instead of focusing on fixing and curing individual autistic people, we should dedicate our money and our activism and our energy to changing society so that autistic people can get the support and accommodations they need to live happy, fulfilling lives as autistic people.

This April - April is autism awareness month - you should take a stand against the medical model of disability and its fear-mongering cure rhetoric. Take a stand against Autism Speaks and their “awareness” and their use of words such as “broken”, “dangerous”, “epidemic”, “tragic” and “missing.” Listen to autistic people instead of listening to the words of organizations whose goal is that we shouldn’t exist, that we shouldn’t be a part of the future. Listen to autistic people instead. We don’t want to be fixed. We don’t want to be cured. We want to be a part of the future. We want to be accommodated and accepted for who we are instead of being eradicated and changed. This April, spread the word of autism acceptance, neurodiversity and the social model of disability. This April, stand with autistic people. We need your support.

“It looks like ya got yerself in a bit of a pickle pumpkin” Merle said, his adopted son was shivering as he hugged the tree limb just above the highest rung of the ladder. 

Banjo nodded, “y-yeah. I-It’s too high.” 

Merle nodded in agreement, “I know son, that’s why I came to help ya down. Now, I’m gonna get a grip on ya, and when I say so I’ll need ya to let go of the tree so I can pulls ya down, alright?” 

“No!” Banjo shook his head and clung tighter to the tree, “I-if I let go I’ll fall!”

 “Banjomin, I know yer scared, but I ain’t gonna let ya get hurt. I’m gonna catch you and it’ll be fine.” Merle placed his hand on the boy’s knee, stroking it lightly with his thumb, “Do ya trust me son?”

Banjomin paused, but eventually nodded in agreement. Once it seemed like Banjo was less tense Merle reached up and got a grip on Benjamin’s Torso. “Okay son, ya can let go now.” 

For a minute Banjo hesitated, but eventually he released the tree limb and Merle was able to scoop him up in his arms. He wrapped his hands around his Pa’s neck and Merle quickly climbed down the ladder to the ground. 

Merle rubbed Banjo’s back calmingly, and eventually the five year old opened his eyes and noticed they were back on the ground. Banjo hugged him closely and Merle smiled, “ There now, that wasn’t so bad was it?”


I thought of some dialogue to go with the picture, but this is just a drawing of how I imagine it goes when the Mcguckets discover Stan is scared of heights after he’s de-aged in the Banjomin Stanley Mcgucket au. 

The Signs as Bands
  • Aries: The 1975
  • Taurus: Twenty Øne Piløts
  • Gemini: Panic! At the Disco
  • Cancer: Fall Out Boy
  • Leo: The Smiths
  • Virgo: The Cure
  • Libra: Tears for Fears
  • Scorpio: My Chemical Romance
  • Sagittarius: Blue Oyster Cult
  • Capricorn: Coldplay
  • Aquarius: AC/DC
  • Pisces: Nirvana
A half-proud half-guilty brotherhood. Proud because we hold the reins of life and death in our hands, and guilty because we are all dragged down by the unstated fear that our cures have never fully evolved from our ancient past of quackery and charlatanism. This is the reason we are so pathologically loyal to each other and our jargon has the role of binding us into an unbreakable magic circle that ensures what is unsayable remains unsaid
—  Oxford Handbook Clinical Medicine (on the encrypted way doctors present patient histories in front of the patient themselves, and its exclusive nature)

thisaintafairytale  asked:

Fave stydia moment from every season?

and here we have Caitlin asking the Real Questions;
I’m splitting the seasons up into parts and you can’t stop me???? 

This is really long and if you read the whole thing then…. I love you.

season 1: like all of formality (1x11)?? I mean the Field’s Medal scene is Iconic. Here we have Stiles, a boy Lydia couldn’t care any less about at this point in time (all she seems to really care about is where Jackson is–although Lydia is observant and curious so she is definitely somewhat intrigued by this boy Allison set her up with) but instead of treating her as some sort of prize or just any pretty girl– Stiles compliments her intelligence. And it makes her think a bit, and makes something shift in her to let him dance with her (which he clearly really wants to). And this is So Important. And there is way way way more to it but I know you know.

season 2: 2x12 will forever be dear to me, it’s the time I started shipping stydia wholeheartedly! After two full seasons of Lydia being sidelined by everyone, and called crazy, and she’s lost a lot of social status and she is lost, truly she is; she goes to Stiles. All because he said to her before that there is nothing she could say that would ever make her sound crazy. And at this point she is absolutely feeling like she is insane you know “half of it is like a dream” she says. And she trusts Stiles in this moment for the first time. And just wow I could talk about this scene FOREVER.

season 3a: the panic attack kiss, hands down?? I mean also that entire episode (3x11) because let’s be real #emotional tethers

season 3b: RED STRING SCENE (3x15). I would write you an essay on this but truly @rongasm already did us all the favour here.

season 4: 4x09 when they are in Eichen and Lydia is forced to listen to her Grandmother’s tape. And Stiles tries to get her attention “focus on my voice Lydia”. And also just.. Stiles smashing out of the constraints all because Lydia is in danger–and Stiles’ miraculous fear of needles is Cured. Also we have Lydia fearing for Stiles’ life over her own which hurts my SOUL. This is definitely heartbreaking, but I truly love this scene.

season 5a: can I really just choose one?!? yes. 5x04 – when Stiles just stops and is frozen because the love of his life is lying on the ground dying and he is so consumed with this feeling of love and soul-crushing emotional pain he can’t move–can’t do anything to help. And this is the moment Stiles probably realized the weight of his love for Lydia, and it scared him–probably more surprised him–but scared him more than he thought it would. And Lydia, again, sending him off to help someone else. Lydia, how you changed ugh I love her.

season 5b: “Stiles saved me” (5x16). This is when Lydia wholeheartedly realized she was in love with Stiles. The moment Scott knew his best friends were in love. The moment Lydia’s mom knew she had misjudged Stiles. And the moment Stiles was able to balance out his self defense form the beginning of the season by saving Lydia’s life. All rolled into one. (Also let’s not mention the entire like idk 3 minutes of agonizing pain watching Stiles beg Lydia to just open your eyes)

season 6a: OKAY THIS IS ACTUALLY SO HARD BUT 6x10 “I didn’t say it back” “You don’t have to” Because back in 6x01 Stiles realized Lydia was in love with him when she repeated what he said to her “I’m not leaving you!”. He just KNEW. Which, really, we shouldn’t be surprised since Stiles is the Lydia 101 expert–reads her like a book (even when sometimes she is hard to read). And he just knew, and she didn’t need to say it, and they had the conversation with their lips instead. Amazing.

artisticprotector  asked:

Do you have any advice for creating original, creative, and unique character designs?

haha, usually when people ask that kind of question, it’s because they feel like they have the sameface syndrome. welp, have no fear my friend, because curing that is surprisingly easy.
first, look at the characters you usually draw. are they mostly skinny people? then try drawing fatter/beefier people. are they mostly a specific ethnicity? try drawing people of other ethnicities. they all have the same eyes? try- well, you got the gist of it.
basically, try to pick apart every element of your drawings that might feel redundant and do something else with it.
that should set you on the right path for making diverse characters. that also works with clothes, personality, etc.
actively look for stuff that might make a nice character, and then use it.
oh and also, as a general rule, people should be able to get a feeling of what your character is like by just looking at their design. however, let it be just a feeling and nothing more! characters should never look like a physical caricature of their personality.
(thats all i could think of for now, i hope it helps!)

cheerful classic love songs for all your happy sing along needs (x)

  1. You Make My Dreams - Hall and Oates
  2. Touch Me - The Doors
  3. Hold Me Now - The Thompson Twins
  4. Wouldn’t It Be Nice - The Beach Boys
  5. I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers
  6. Come On Eileen - Dexy’s Midnight Runners
  7. Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - The Police
  8. Head Over Heels - Tears for Fears
  9. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go - Wham!
  10. Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles
  11. Melt With You - Modern English
  12. Friday I’m In Love - The Cure
  13. Just What I Needed - The Cars
you’re my everything [4]

jeon jungkook x reader, mafia!au

prologue / part 1 / part 2 /  part 3 / part 4

 warnings: bad language what do you expect its me

length: almost 3.7k shit sorry

a/n: it’s here! finally! thankyou to everyone who has waited for the longest time for this, and for admin peach for putting up with my crap and reminding me to get a move on, i hope i don’t disappoint any of you and i appreciate you all so much ~ blue


The nightmares didn’t come back.

The feeling of his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders was enough to stifle the bad thoughts – no, more than that. He had transitioned almost seamlessly from the source of your fear to the cure to it.

And that was definitely not a good thing.

You felt him pull away the sheets from where they were wrapped around your body, grumbling but careful not to disturb you. It was well into the early hours, but as you felt the mattress sink under his weight, you were glad to be awake to feel his warmth against your skin, his cologne a now familiar scent. You turned over to face him, finding his dark eyes ringed and tired, but still open, focused on you with an unfathomable expression. In the dimly lit room, the shadows thrown carelessly over his features made it impossible to read his face. Slowly, he raised a hand to gently stroke your hair. He used such a feather light touch, as if he thought you may break at any second.

You frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “This is wrong, (y/n). A girl like you shouldn’t be in bed with a guy like me.”

He made it sound as if… You banished such thoughts from your mind. “I feel safe with you, Jungkook.”

He sighed. “I know.” Then, hesitating, “I’m not a good man (y/n).”

You were tired. “So you keep telling me.”

He didn’t smile. “Because you don’t seem to get it.” He removed his hand from your hair, propping himself up and resting a cheek in the palm of his hand. “Do you know what extortion is, (y/n)? Or gambling?”

You exhaled tiredly, shaking and nodding your head at once. He didn’t stop, voice raising beyond a whisper. “Care to know where I’ve been? Where I go? Or do you not like to think about that? Do you like to pretend I’m some good guy, your personal superhero?”

You sighed. “You’re Jungkook.”

It was his turn to sigh, frowning down at you. “What I’m trying to say is, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.” You couldn’t quite tell, but you were almost sure his eyes were dull, lacking life. “You’re a daisy, (y/n), pure, white, untainted, but every time you lie in my arms, I stain your petals a little more. You don’t want that.” His tone was almost pleading. “You should be running screaming from me, (y/n). It’s not too late to run.”

You laid a hand on his cool cheek, squinting to see his face. “I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You trailed your hand down his neck, eventually tangling your fingers in the worn fabric of his shirt. “If you won’t hold me,” You wrapped your arms and legs around his body, causing his breath to hitch, and laid your head at the hollow of his throat. “-then I’ll hold you.”

Eventually, his muscles relaxed, arms gripping your torso and head buried in your fluffy hair. Whatever he words he whispered there were lost, as you felt waves of sleep crash over you, limbs tangled up with his.

You knew it was dangerous, and so very selfish, to need him like this, yet you found that you craved how he would sometimes hold you like delicate china, sometimes clutch you as if you were oxygen and he was suffocating.

Perhaps you were going crazy, but perhaps he already was.

It was the first time you had woken in his embrace. The morning sunlight filtered into the room, gently illuminating your surroundings. You yawned sleepily, blinking slowly and feeling a weight over your body.

You had fallen asleep holding him, but Jungkook was the one clutching you, arms locked around your stomach, legs entangled with yours, and head resting on your chest. Your arms were looped around his neck, and his dark hair spilled out over your skin, a silky mess below your throat. You smiled slightly, tightening your arms around him, noticing the way he burrowed his face further into the soft skin in his sleep.

You felt his warm breath fan over your skin, and you wondered idly how such a young, vulnerable looking creature could be in his situation.

Eventually, he began to stir, sleepily opening one of his eyes and groaning. His voice was unusually husky, earning a stifled giggle. “Stop fucking staring.”

“I can’t help it. You’re cute.”

You felt his scowl against your skin, before he unlocked his arms and suddenly he was above you, hovering over you with messy hair and sleepy eyes. His hands were either side of your shoulders, as he said in a low voice, “I want to take you with me today, (y/n).”

You locked eyes with him. “Good. I like to be with you.”

He sent you a glare. “I doubt you’ll like where I take you.” He sat up, thighs locked around your hips for a minute, before sharply getting out of the bed and strolling towards the door, throwing his words to you over his shoulder. “Get ready, we’ll leave soon.” He turned back at the doorway, raising and eyebrow. “And, (y/n)?” You nodded cautiously. “I wasn’t joking. You’re not going to like this.”

With that, he was gone.

You were ready fast, stepping out of your room to find him waiting for you in the hall. Except, he wasn’t alone. Behind him was an older looking boy with faded green hair, giving you a searching glare. His body language wasn’t particularly threatening, the way he lounged against the wall, but he intimidated you. Hoping the way you inched ever closer to Jungkook was subtle, you stood so that he blocked the stranger’s view of you, meeting a familiar pair of brown eyes as you subconsciously fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt.

Jungkook half smiled distractedly, placing a hand over yours and harshly yanking the thread, before letting go and moving towards his room. “(y/n), I have to go get something real quick.” You nodded reluctantly. “Yoongi?” He turned to the green haired boy, who hummed, but didn’t tear his gaze from you. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

Once the door closed behind him, the boy he had addressed as Yoongi began strolling lazily towards you, a sneer twisting his face. “So, you fell for a bad guy, huh?”

You stiffened, backing away. “You’re wrong.”

He snorted. “Don’t bullshit me. I see how you are with him.” His face changed. “And I see how he is with you. Bastard.” He paused. “I had a pet once too, (y/n). A pretty little thing, who belonged to me.”

You flinched. “I’m not Jungkook’s pet.”

He glared back. “Whatever. I know he sleeps with you every night, I see how he tries to protect you.” His eyes softened for a minute. “Even from himself. But,” The steely glare returned, “-he can’t do that forever.” Bitterness tainted his features, fresh and unforgotten. “Because, (y/n), one day I started caring too much, got too attached, and do you know what happened to my girl?” He didn’t let you reply, a kind of desperation ghosting over his words. “I see her in the way you look at him. He thinks, just because you’re some blue-blooded princess that he can keep his little pet. Well, you know what, (y/n)? I hope you don’t end up the way she did.” He jerked his head towards the door. “And I hope he doesn’t end up like me.”

Jungkook emerged seconds later, standing protectively in front of you and glaring at Yoongi. Raising his hands before him, palms up, and smirking without any real emotion, the older boy sighed, sounding almost bored. “Just to let you know, Jeon, if I was still at the top, you’d be screwed, and she’d be dead.”

Jungkook growled. “Well it’s just as well that you’re just some dog, right, Yoongi?” He flinched, only replying once he was halfway down the corridor, with his back to you and Jungkook.

“Don’t forget, kid, she’s theirs. Not yours.”

Jungkook’s irritated heavy breathing confirmed the vague, half-taunting tone to Yoongi’s words.  “Come on.” He muttered, gripping your wrist and leading you, trailing behind him, down a myriad of corridors and keypads, until the cool morning air enveloped you, and you were outside.

Anger had stopped rolling off of him by the time you reached the car, letting go of your wrist to hold open the passenger door and leaning over you once you were inside to buckle your seatbelt.

You waited until outside of the window was just a blur, as you sped down the freeway, to ask him.

“Jungkook?” He hummed, glancing at you. “What did he mean when he said still at the top?”

Jungkook cursed softly under his breath, before sighing. “That guy. So, he’s Min Yoongi, and you know the guy we saw a while back? Namjoon?” You nodded, reluctantly. “Yeah, well that was Yoongi. Before he fucked up.” He hesitated. “He was a good leader.”

You raised your eyebrows. “He must have been scary.”

He laughed. “Terrifying.”

You frowned. “He fucked up, right? Was that because of his girlfriend?”

Jungkook eyed you disapprovingly. “Don’t curse, (y/n).”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t suit you.” He paused. “So he told you?”

You shrugged. “Kind of.”

“He fell in love.” Jungkook hesitated. “Only fools fall in love, at least, in our line of business.”

The silence that ensued was long, and uncomfortable, until, at last, you addressed him again.

“Jungkook?” He nodded, murmuring distractedly in reply. “What’s your full name?”

He laughed, but after hesitating, said, “Jeon Jungkook.”

You repeated it, liking the way it fell from your lips. “Jeon Jungkook, how old are you?”

He chuckled again. “You ask too many questions.” He paused. “But, I’m older than you.”

You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration. “You know everything about me, but I can’t even know how old you are?”

He was smiling – a pure smile, not a distant tug of the corner of his mouth, nor a sinful smirk. He was just smiling. “Yeah.” His smile faltered a little. “I’m not the type of person you’d want to know more about, (y/n), so there’s no point.”

You half glared at him. “Why?” He gave you an incredulous glance, and you sighed. “Even though you…” You trailed off, not wanting to put words to the unpleasant thoughts you were trying to push away, “You’re still a person.” The smile was completely gone now, his hands clenching the steering wheel, and his jaw set.

“You’re wrong.” Of course you were. A heavy silence settled over the car, without respite, stretching first an hour, and then two, then three… Until you blinked sleepily, realizing you had fallen asleep, and found an evening darkness wrapped around your surroundings, streetlamps flickering as he drove you through an unknown neighbourhood.

You turned to face Jungkook, who was glaring relentlessly at the road ahead. You seemed to startle him a little when you said his name, but he didn’t turn to look at you, as his voice came cold, detached. “We’re almost there.”

You swallowed. “Where are we going?”

He smirked. “To see some old friends.” The way the word friends rolled tauntingly from his lips, you doubted that he was feeling at all friendly. You wanted to ask him more, make him tell you what he thought he was doing, but you decided not to waste your breath. You could fire words at him like bullets, but to them he would always be bulletproof, you knew this from the way your pleads had deflected seamlessly from his stony exterior before. Why would you waste your breath trying to reason with a boy like Jeon Jungkook?

Or, perhaps, you were just scared, terrified of the answers he may provide. So, you thought it better to be blind, in the dark, as usual.

He hadn’t been lying when he said you were close. You’d barely had a chance to gaze outside the window at the rundown neighbourhood when he swerved into an alleyway, killing the breaks and reaching for something under his seat. You blinked in horror as the headlights abruptly shut off, leaving you to realize that, in the pitch darkness, you had no idea what he was reaching for. You heard his door slam without seeing him leave, and you wondered if you were supposed to stay in the car. Apparently, you were not, as you felt the cold night air rush to greet you as someone reached over you to unbuckle your seatbelt, sighing. “Just how incapable are you?”

You stiffened. “In the pitch black?”

You heard him snort softly, as he grabbed your arm. “Your eyes will adjust. But,” He began to pull you after him, the darkness edging off slightly, “We’re almost out.”

You emerged seconds later into a near-deserted street, the deadbeat town surrounding you illuminated by flickering streetlamps and half-broken signs. He loosened his grip on your arm until his hand encircled your wrist – not uncomfortably so, but his hold on you was a reminder that you were his, to not step out of line. You struggled to match his pace as he strode through what seemed to you a ghost town, until you began to hear the distant hum of people.

You were approaching what you took to be a restaurant, with a large sign bearing some foreign name lit up with red bulbs, the majority of which were working. Almost without thinking, you edged closer to him as you got nearer, until you reached the door, and he dropped your wrist to hold the door open for you. You frowned, but nodded as you entered, his hand finding the small of your back as he followed you closely. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as people, from where they were seated drinking or talking over untouched food, turned to stare at you. Something, however, in the way that Jungkook looked at them, caused them to sharply drag their eyes away, returning to whatever they were doing before. Jungkook’s fingers dug in slightly to your back as he guided you through the busy room, heavy with smoke and shouting.

You reached a table, with two men sat talking to each other in low voices, seeming deep in discussion, with eyebrows furrowed. For their ages, boys may have been a better word to use, but they looked as if they carried such weight upon their shoulders, that they couldn’t possibly be so young, a trait they shared with Jeon Jungkook, who was currently pulling out a chair for you at their table with his free hand, causing their heads to snap up and their words to abruptly stop.

“Jungkook!” They greeted, smiling in a somewhat unfriendly manner towards him as you sat down, eyeing them distrustfully. You glanced behind you at Jungkook, whose smile didn’t reach his eyes, his mouth taking on an almost sinister curve.

“It’s great to see you both, I’m so pleased we could all get together.” The three of them shared plastic smiles, but you felt the tension radiating from them, as they took their seats around the small table. Jungkook’s hand found your knee, eyes burning like a predator as he glared across the table.

One of the men leaned back in his seat, grinning lazily, but you saw his knuckles, white and strained, as they clutched the corner of the tablecloth. “So,” He drew out his words, “How is Bangtan these days?” Jungkook’s jaw clenched and his fingertips dug into your knee. “You know, how’s Yoongi?” He motioned to you, carelessly, laughing. “Looks like you didn’t learn from his mistakes, Jeon.”

The other man, who was glaring at you with his head tilted, cleared his throat. “Who is she, anyway?”

Jungkook bared his teeth in a cruel imitation of a smile. “Oh, how could I forget? Meet my girlfriend, (Y/N).” You saw their eyes widen and then narrow as they looked at you with interest. They recognised you from your name, you could tell, but you were more preoccupied by the fact that Jeon Jungkook had introduced you as his girlfriend.

His girlfriend.

He had stolen you as if you were someone’s property and he was a thief, he kept you like a pet, no, less a pet than a nuisance, he had taken your freedom and then decided that he had the right to ignore you, be irritated by you and, worst of all, make you want to be around him. What kind of sick game did he think he was playing?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed their conversation progress, hadn’t acknowledged the food arrive to lie untouched. His voice brought you back to reality, an illusion of sweetness which stung your ears. “You’re not hungry, darling?” He was the picture of concern but his brown eyes were laughing at you. You shook your head, trying not to frown at him. “So,” He continued, though not to you, “What about our deal?”

Across the table, you saw the falter in the façade of being blasé and unaffected. “That?” You heard the slight raise in pitch, noticed the note of panic creep into his eyes.

Jungkook’s own orbs were dark, and his black hair fell over his forehead as he nodded. “Yeah. That.”

The other man swallowed, and he tripped over his words. “C-come on, Jeon, that was a long time ago, a lot’s happened since then, I’m sure –”

“We don’t forget. Now,” He turned to glance at you as he reached into his waistband for something. To you, he whispered, “Close your eyes.”

You didn’t question him. But eyes squeezed shut and hands slammed over your ears couldn’t muffle the gunshots. You let him grab you by the arm and drag you along behind him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to remove your hands from your ears. It was only as you reached the doorway that you opened one eye and, despite Jungkook’s murmured warning, looked back to face the restaurant, which was unchanged, as if nothing had happened.

Except, in a pool of red, slumped over a table at the back, were two young men.

Two familiar men.

Two dead men.

You let out a scream. Sighing, Jungkook gently tugged your hair so you were facing forward, and continued leading you down that damned street, with the flickering streetlamps and the broken, seedy signs. What kind of neighbourhood was this? Where people didn’t even bat an eyelid when…

You let out another scream, stopping dead in the street and shutting your eyes again, pulling against Jungkook as he tried to lead you on. “Stop being difficult.” He grumbled. You heard him groan as tears became to accompany your screaming, and, with your eyes shut, you began batting him away, flinching at his touch, cowering from his words. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to break you, (Y/N).” You didn’t stop trying to scream the memory away, but you were listening. “But now you’re like us.” He gathered you up in his arms, ignoring your yelps and flailing, and continued walking. “We’re all broken, (Y/N).”

By the time you reached the alleyway again, your screams had subsided to whimpering, and your grip on your ears was weak. You wanted to sleep forever and forget everything that had happened. You wanted the Jungkook back that was innocent and sleepy, that kept bad dreams at bay. But, you reminded yourself for the hundredth time as he placed you gently in your seat and did up the belt, he was always like this.

It was maybe minutes, maybe hours, before you addressed him again. “Jungkook?” He nodded hesitantly. “Were they bad people?”

“We’re all bad people, (Y/N).”

“What did they do?”

He half smiled. “It’s more like what they didn’t do. They owed us. A long, long time ago we called them brothers. Then they stepped out of line, betrayed us. They didn’t want our second chances, they didn’t take us seriously. But,” He stopped at a red light, glancing over at you. “It’s no big deal.” You could see him noting the way your eyebrows drew together, deep in thought, and he sighed. “Stop trying to justify what I did, no, what I do, to yourself, (Y/N). This is the way we work. You’ll get used to it.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself but shivering all the same. It wasn’t cold, but you noticed Jungkook switch the heating dial up, though he was supposedly staring at the road ahead with deep concentration.

“Why am I your girlfriend now?” The words came uninvited, and you cursed them, feeling your cheeks heat up as you locked eyes with the floor. He chuckled humourlessly.

“Do you know what girlfriend and boyfriend do, (Y/N)?” You ignored him, turning an even deeper shade of red. He smirked, almost lifelessly. “Come on, (Y/N), you know what kind of things girlfriends and boyfriends do, don’t you?” You nodded, reluctantly. “Of course. And are we like that? Do we do those things?” You shook your head, disliking the way his tone was adding all kinds of meanings to his words. “And have I ever forced myself onto you? Have I ever asked you for anything you didn’t want to give me?”

You knew what he was implying, and he was right, but you pouted. “Except fucking kidnapping me, no, not at all.”

He winced, and you remembered that he disliked you cursing. “Boyfriends don’t kidnap their girlfriends, smartass.” You begrudgingly nodded. “So, there’s your answer. Oh, and, (Y/N), also,” he glared at the road ahead. “Girlfriend would imply that I cared, that I had feelings towards you.” It was your turn to wince. That stung a lot more than you cared to admit. “Don’t ever confuse how things are with us.”

And yet, as the purring of the car motor lulled you to sleep, you felt his familiar leather jacket slip around your shoulders, and, in your confused state of half sleep, you wondered how it could be true that he truly didn’t care at all.


a/n: okay, it is here FINALLY it’s been like a month… i’ve had the WORST writers block with this idk why, well it wasn’t really writers block, like i wrote about ¾ of this about a month ago and then i decided i didn’t like it and then i wrote the rest today and i guess that’s why it’s so long… thankyou so much for reading this, and i’m going to make an effort to be much more active with this series and anything else you would like us to write, so if you have any suggestions for things you would like us to start doing, like reactions or anything, then make sure so send us a message about it! don’t be shy about bugging me if i’m taking a while with anything, as well, because i am the worst at procrastinating… anyway, it’s a little late, but consider this an easter gift from us! or a curse tbh what have i done with this series but be ready for part 5! i love you all, thankyou for appreciating our writing, because we sure as hell appreciate you

Envy, jealousy, a lack of self-confidence, a feeling of insecurity, and a haunting sense of inferiority are all rooted in fear. We do not envy people and then fear them; first we fear them and subsequently we become jealous of them. Is there a cure for these annoying fears that pervert our personal lives? Yes, a deep and abiding commitment to the way of love.
—  Martin Luther King, Jr.