#I also haven't spoken to anyone at all today in real life

[azrielsshadows42]

Trespasser, Azriel x oc

This is my first fic ever on any platform, so pls be nice and I'm sorry if it sucks. Also, I haven't actually read the ACOTAR series yet, I really want to but... shit's expensive ya'll T-T, so if any details are incorrect, I sincerely apologize (I know he could have winnowed but, for the story we're gonna pretend he can't)

a/n: I am now reading acosf, no changes were since there was nothing too incorrect

Description: Azriel is coming home from a mission and is a little careless with his flying and crashes, while getting back home, he comes across someone who is unlike anyone he has ever seen.

Warnings: swearing, very very slight mention of injury, reader has she/her pronouns, eventual use of y/n, the smallest amount of suggestiveness it barely even counts and mystery maybe? idk

italics = thoughts Bold = actions/sound effects Both= plant speak, it will make sense, just wait

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Azriel had been on this mission for a few days now, he couldn't wait to get back home and have dinner with his family. He was exhausted, his wings dragging, and all he wanted was to collapse in his bed, but alas, he still had to make the long flight home, back to Velaris.

Knowing that the longer he waited, the longer it would be until he gets to see his family, he picked up his wings and started making the long flight to the Townhouse.

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

You had had a relatively normal day, if you could call what you do in a day normal. Your life consisted of flying through the treetops, making sure that the animals and vegetation were healthy. Your job was to keep the cycle of forest life running smoothly, or well the life of this particular forest, although you did sometimes go out and help with the forests under your siblings care when they wanted to go galavanting about disguised as the locals.

You had never understood their fascination, I mean sure, you understood wanting some company that wasn't your family from time to time, and life as a forest deity was quite a lonely one, being that technically, the fae and mortals of the land were not supposed to be aware of your existence (hence the need to be disguised). But you failed to see what was so amazing about them, it's not that you didn't like them or had a problem with them, it just.... didn't appeal to you. And so, to this day you had never, in your 2750 years of life spoken to, or formally interacted with another person outside your siblings.

That was until today of course...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Azriel's POV

'Just a little bit further, almost there' I thought nearing the greenery that surrounded Velaris.

'I can't wait for some warm food, and a real bed... and to think of it a proper shower couldn't hurt either-' My thought track was interrupted by a sharp pain along my wing, as it hit a particularly tall tree I hadn't noticed, subsequently, my whole body was thrown violently off course, and hurtled towards the ground hitting it, hard.

'Well fuck... that hurt' Groaning, I slowly got up and looked around, I wasn't too far from home, I recognized the trees around me, I could walk the rest of the way, though flying would be easier... not likely though, the tree canopy is to dense for me to break through, even the part where I fell seemed impossibly dense. sigh. 'Walking it is then.'

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Your POV

You had been idly walking around when a shiver went up your spine and then you heard a commotion from far away.

Crack! Snap! Thump!

You mentally asked the plants what was going on but they were all unusually quiet. 'Strange, they normally rush to tell me the smallest of things' you thought. Naturally you had to go and investigate the disturbance yourself. Quickly traversing the forest you called home, you made your way to whatever had made the noise and was very surprised in your findings. Hidden in the leaves you watched from afar. An Illryian, I haven't seen one in centuries.

He flew to close to the trees, nicked his wing. He fell. He crashed. The plants added in the same hushed whisper they always spoke to you in. You almost wanted to roll your eyes because now they wanted to tell you? When you could very much see that for yourself? you could see the slight dent where he had landed and the small scrape on his large black membranous wing, very different from your own. You also couldn't help but notice how beautiful this male was, dark hair, flawless skin, black ink-like markings creeping up the side of his neck, and he seemed to be shrouded in shadows despite the fact that the sun hadn't even started to set. 'He must be the shadowsinger'

You continued to silently admire him as he looked to be gathering his bearings, trying to determine exactly which way he should go to get to.... wherever he was going. The town house, you presumed. He turned to face your direction, revealing his absolutely stunning hazel eyes. Well you hadn't talked to any fae, you had seen them in passing, and had flown over the city once or twice, but none of the fae you had seen were quite as stunning as he was, though if there were more of them that held even a fraction of the beauty he did... well... then you finally understood your siblings appeal for wondering to the places they did.

You couldn't seem to pull your eyes from him, completely enamoured with this spectacular male, clad in black fighting leathers that enhanced his muscular figure. You definitely weren't complaining about the view. You knew you should be careful about how you approached the situation seeing as he donned seven siphons, but you just couldn't get over how pretty his eyes were! His deep, amazing, wonderful eyes that were...

Staring. Right. At you.

Not past, not behind, not in your general direction. At. You.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit SHIT You fled immediately. It would be alright, logically you knew that. You don't live this long and never get spotted by anyone, you and your siblings have all been seen at least three times each, unintentionally. That's how stories of spirits started, sightings of you and your siblings (especially certain brothers who loved to prank people and make them think the forest they tend to is haunted *cough cough* Ethari). But that didn't mean you would willingly let this male, no matter how beautiful, see anymore of you then he already had.

You silently moved through the trees, expertly navigating any looping vines or low hanging branches, not even looking back to see if he had followed until you reached your favourite spot. A sort of clearing that ran against a large stream, dimly reflecting the stars that have started to appear, where you could properly spread your wings without hitting anything, yet the branches reached out unnaturally far over the area so that anyone flying above would be oblivious to anything that happened below. (Which you may or may not have had anything to do with)

Once you felt that you were far enough, you stopped and asked the plants if he had followed you.

He attempted to, but has lost sight. He is now returning home. No damage done. Safe. You breathed in and out silently, still feeling like any noise would alert him of your location. Calmly strolling to the edge of the water, you gracefully sat down on the lush grass, flowers slowly growing around you as you fed them some of your own energy to help them grow faster. Small flowers of bright yellow, soft blue, and fierce red all made subtle appearances. And you thought of the gorgeous male you wish you could have talked to.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Azriel's POV

Looking around, trying to find out exactly which direction home is, I couldn't help but get the feeling that I was being watched. My shadows had yet to leave my side, still checking for further injury. Once sure that there was nothing other than the small scrape on my left wing, they started to look for the source of this feeling.

I looked around and almost dismissed it entirely until my shadows notified me of a presence in the trees. I looked to where they told me to. But, no one was there, briefly wondering if they've been mistaken until my eyes locked with another pair.

They were a dazzling light green, like the leaves around them but darkened around the edges. I couldn't move, couldn't blink, I couldn't breath they were so gorgeous. It seems that whoever this was had been equally as stuck until suddenly, they were gone.

I ran after them, but they were so fast and I hadn't seen anything but their eyes, I had no idea what to look for. Eventually I stopped, and listened, choosing to track them by sound rather then sight, which I realized very soon that had been a mistake because they were as silent as I am. But apparently I need not worry, my shadows keeping up just fine.

I crept along the path my shadows guided me upon, until I saw a clearing, and in it, the person I'd been chasing...

And she was absolutely beautiful... No beautiful didn't cut it, radiant, luminous, ethereal, angelic, nothing seemed to describe her quite right. Getting a proper look at her, I could see why she was so hard to track, she blended in so perfectly with her surroundings, like she was made for this place, like this is where she belonged.

She had large wings in every shade of green, flowing from dark to light seamlessly, that looked like over lapping leaves, and a smaller pair just like the first ones, beneath them. She had a smooth tail hovering just above the ground, moving in slow, elegant sweeps, back and forth with dull spines running along it, adorned with yet another leaf at the tip. She also had small horns that looked akin to the bark on the trees around us, and unblemished brown skin. Her dark brunette, waist-length hair in a neat braid swaying with a light breeze. The energy and power she held emanated from her, in waves, it was... soothing.

My eyes couldn't stray from her figure as she sat down without a sound, her wings relaxed at her sides and her tail curled around her form perfectly. Who is this female? What is she? And, most importantly, is she a threat to the court? Despite my instincts telling me to be wary of her, despite not knowing what she is capable of, if she is or isn't dangerous, I just couldn't help but get a just a little bit closer to her.

SNAP!

Fuck Seriously?, years of spy training and centuries of experience only to be caught because I stepped on a twig, such a fucking cliché.

Her head whipped around and she stood up, our eyes met again. Instead of running away like I thought she would, we just kinda, stared at each other. She eventually broke eye contact and looked off to the side muttering something that sounded like "Went home my ass" before looking back to me.

I looked at her in silence for a moment longer before the logical part of my brain caught up with the rest of me, I stood up straighter, brought my wings in closer and narrowed my eyes.

"Who are you and what are you doing in Velaris?" She raised a thin eyebrow "What am I doing in Velaris?" She ignored my first question instead choosing only to repeat the second as if she couldn't believe I had the audacity to ask her that. I narrowed my eyes further, a strong grip on Truth-Teller. "Yes" I hissed "You are not allowed to be in Velaris unless you are a citizen or have explicit permission, you're trespassing" "I'm trespassing?" She laughed, and ignoring the shiver that amazing sound sent down my spine, she laughed at me. No one laughs at me.

Before I could say something back to her she said "Honey, I am no trespasser, if anything, you're the one who's trespassing" "How am I trespassing?" This is ridicules, I'm the spymaster of the night court, who in the name of the Mother does she think she is? "You are in my forest" She said casually. "Your forest?!" I scoffed. She narrowed her eyes "Yes, my forest" "This forest belongs to the high lord; Rhysand" I stated "The high lord may be the ruler of this land, but he is not the owner" "Who are you" I asked again, more sternly this time. Her eyes studied me for a moment before she said "My name is y/n, and I am the deity who tends to this forest"

"What in the cauldron does that mean?" "It means, that I am responsible for keeping the forest healthy, making sure there is no over or under population of any species, treating the plants when they get sick, I make sure the forest stays strong" I regarded her skeptically before letting my grip on Truth-Teller loosen and my wings relax a little, something about her made me want to trust her, it scared me but, I also couldn't ignore it. "Alright, if you're a deity, then prove it" "What?" "Prove it" She looked at me like I had just said the most bizarre thing she had ever heard in her life. "You want me to prove to you, that I'm a deity" "Yes" I said matter-of-factly, she laughed softly to herself and lightly shook her head as if she couldn't believe that this situation was happening, before finally locking eyes with me once again. She wore a warm smile, a light shining in her eyes with the smallest shimmer of mischief breaking through.

"Alright, I'll prove it" She sunk down to her knees and my mind flickered for a second, to a place it really shouldn't, her tail lay lightly on the grass below, just the tip slightly burying itself into the soft dirt, she brought her wings around her splaying them out on the ground so the edges were also shallowly submerged in the ground. Y/n closed her eyes.

Then I could see a small green light where her heart would be, it grew larger and brighter, soon, a ring of light pulsed from her heart, and another, and another until the rings came in sync with every one of her heart beats. It was magical, it felt like the whole forest, every plant and animal, even the very air, was breathing with her. I realized that even my breathing now matched hers, and everything around us just felt more alive. I was mesmerized.

She stood up slowly with the grace that surely only a deity could posses and opened her eyes, they glowed slightly in the late evening light. "Believe me now?" she asked with amusement at my wide eyes lacing her voice. Even when she's mocking me her voice still sounds like the best music that has ever blessed this world.

I wasn't able to get a word out, I just nodded. Her smile grew and the amount of pride that filled my chest for being the cause of that smile was unfathomable. She languidly walked closer, her eyes never leaving mine. "You know" she started "I'm not technically allowed to show you what I just did, so you'll have to keep this a secret between us" " Not allowed to?" I questioned "I thought you said you were a deity, doesn't that mean you make the rules?"

She tilted her head downward, and smiled, it almost looked... sad. Something in my chest did not like that thought, not at all. "You would think that, but even the most divine beings have rules to follow, the 1st, or well, the 2nd one is that no one is supposed to know of our existence" my eyebrows furrowed at that. 'Why is it required for such a beautiful person to be hidden from the world' "Why?" She looked down to the ground and said in a voice barely above a whisper "Its just the way it is" I could see the topic displeased her and so decided to change it.

"Are there any other deities?" She smiled, a true smile this time "Yes, my siblings, we each tend to a different aspect of nature some tend to oceans, marshes, cities, although I'm closest with the other forest deities" While she was speaking, a brach bent down between us, low enough to sit on. Y/n moved to sit on the branch and silently motioned for me to join her. "Tell me about them" I asked

We sat there, on that branch for over 2 hours, just talking about everything and anything, her family, what it was like to be a deity, the similarities between her and her plants and my shadows, how they both talked to us, knew us better than anyone else. And it felt good. Talking to her felt good. Seeing her smile at me, because of me made me smile. Our wings brushing against each other ever so slightly just adding to the peaceful euphoria of it all. I never wanted it to end.

"You should probably get back to your family, it's getting late, they might worry"

'My what? Oh right! My family, the one waiting in the town house for me so we can have dinner together, I told them I'd be back by now' I'd been in such a daze that I hadn't even noticed the time passing and had completely forgotten about the dinner plans made before I left for my mission. "Uhh, r-right, yes, of course" I stuttered, I fucking stuttered. Cauldrons what is this femal- deity doing to me? "See you around shadow-singer". Before I even had a chance to respond she had spread all four of her wings, and I couldn't help but admire them again, how they looked so fragile that if the wind blew to hard they would break. Yet they held strong without faltering. Lifting off into the air with the same grace she had shown the entire day, the canopy opening so she had direct access to the sky, she disappeared before I could blink.

I decided that, yes, I would definately be 'seeing her around' sometime. And with that I beat my wings lifting of the branch which slowly bent back to its original place, using the same break in the canopy that y/n had, and made my way home, thinking of how I would go out and try to find her again tomorrow.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Y/n's POV

Leaving the shadow singer with a dumb-founded look on his face, I flew away to a deeper part of the forest.

'You know, maybe my siblings had the right idea with the whole 'visiting fae cities' thing, I might just need to ask one of them to take care of my forest for a while.' Just to see what I've been missing out on, obviosly. Not at all to see a certain shadow singer 'I never got his name.' Oh well, guess I'll just have to accidently stumble across him during my visit.

–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-–-

Ok so how was that? Let me know if you think it was any good, constructive criticism is welcome, have a good day, love ya

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

you are officially the strongest person alive for not just closing the askbox after some of the trash you've gotten from idiots on this site. gdspeed and good luck holy hell

I've received a lot of asks like this one so I wanna respond and clarify

I actually love getting asks and even anon asks. I prefer having anon on bc yk big boy blog and all that but also so that people can send me their silliest things.

I really do truly genuinely enjoy having this blog and especially interacting w it. I've made a lot of friends recently and it's just fun to be able to talk ab the cringe failgame from a decade ago. Both for myself and in front of such a large audience.

Ever since I became aware I'm literally in the top 10 on skyrim blogs (at #9 but still) some of my anons started making a lot more sense. The power of anonymity makes people braver, which is good for things like funny headcanons and such.

I don't really like having to turn anon off and god I hope I don't have to shut asks off entirely. Fortunately once I turned anon off my inbox became a lot more peaceful. Funny that.

If I were to compare the two I'm sure I've gotten much more love than hate, but hate is much louder than love. And I know me giving it attention doesn't help much of anything but on the other hand people can and do throw around serious words about an unserious video game on unserious posts from an unserious person.

Even if I ignored all of it, just having to see it can feel so draining. And it isn't just in my inbox. It's also in the tags. I've repeatedly tried to express how deeply uncomfortable I am, AS A JEWISH PERSON OF COLOR, with people throwing words like racist and genocide around all willy nilly over video game characters.

It trivializes those real world issues, that have affected me, my ancestors, and people like me, down to fucking. Skyrim discourse. It's extremely frustrating. And from what I can see I don't think anyone is doing it maliciously or to get a rise out of me. But I think the sheer weight of those words has gotten lost.

And not to pull another race card, but this is especially upsetting from white people. I'm not thrilled about the fact white people keep talking over me and other people of color in the fandom about what is and isn't racist.

But I do also see the love. I see the cats in my inbox and the lovely asks and people writing paragraphs to defend me (when tbh I haven't done anything wrong anyways but. Eh.) and it's genuinely very touching and sweet and even if I don't reply to it (there's a lot to reply to!) I do see it and I appreciate it.

And for the poll, I fully plan on seeing it through. Round 2 closes tomorrow after which I'll set up round 3/the semi finals and then we go to the championship!

I started this poll, also this blog, for fun. I want people to have fun. I want to have fun. And most of the time I do have fun! But with the uptick in activity that brings *gestures vaguely* what it does.

Tumblr is one of those very few websites with true anonymity. This and reddit are the only ones I can think of where it's not expected to have your name, face, or other info about you anywhere. Which is a rare blessing on today's internet but it makes people very audacious about what they can and can't say to me.

I think because of that anonymity it's easy to forget I'm a human person. I very much doubt some of things I've had said to me in the last 48 hours would still be said if it was face to face. I truly don't think someone would look me in the eye and tell me to kill myself over skyrim bullshit.

And the funny part of that is if they did, I'd probably laugh in real life. For the sheer ridiculousness of the statement. "Hey. You. End your life because of video game drama" spoken to me at the local Target would be funny to me. But with the anonymity it feels just as hurtful as I'm sure it's supposed to be.

Thanks for letting me ramble and such. I'm not really even sure what I'm trying to say with all this. Other than I'm human, you're human, we're all humans, and we'd do well to remember that. Please just be nice to each other..

And be nice to me.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #117

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

He's gonna be Frank with you. Read the rest of The Frank Program here on Tumblr!

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, this is The Frank Program. I’m Frank -”

“- and I’m Big Mike. Today’s guest is the most popular streamer on all of Twitch.TV, here in the studio we have Mr. Hellspawn!”

“How’s it going?” Hellspawn spoke softly into his microphone.

“Uh…” Frank shuffled through his notes, which Mike had prepared for him. “Wasn’t I supposed to ask you that?”

Mike patted him on the back. “Don’t worry about that, Frankie. Anyway, Mr. Hellspawn, why don’t you tell us a little about what you do for the listeners who aren’t aware?”

“Sure thing, Mike. My job is a little hard to explain, but I’ll start at the beginning. When I first started streaming, the hot thing to do was to play videogames. People want to see other people play games because it’s a social activity, at least originally, but on Twitch, it’s different. We don’t really know each other, we’re not really friends, but instead it’s more like a substitute for that. That’s why I really blew up about four years ago. Everyone was stuck inside, nowhere to go, nothing to do. They wanted some company.”

“So, uh, what makes you special, then?” Frank asked.

“If you ask me, I think I just got lucky. But I guess people liked my specific way of interacting with the audience. I’d say, ‘chat, help me out here, should I go down this tunnel or cross this bridge?’ and, you know, they’d vote on it basically.”

“That doesn’t seem so hard to understand.”

“Sure, but now it’s a little different. Instead of mostly playing games and talking to the audience here and there, people seem not to want me to play games so much anymore. I always give them the option, but whenever I put it up to a vote, my subs just want to see me doing normal everyday stuff. I’ve got cameras set up all over my house. Game room, kitchen, bedroom…”

“Bedroom?”

“Some of my fans pay for a little extra, if you catch my drift.”

Frank’s eyes popped wide open. “You’re a prostitute?!?”

“Hey, hey, hey…” Mike chuckled nervously. “How about we don’t go there, Frank?”

Frank was indignant. “It’s a simple question!”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine, guys. It’s basically an after-dark stream that costs money to watch. I don’t have sex with anyone for money.”

Frank glared at Mike. “See? It was a good question!”

“I only get a little naked. A little. But more people like to watch me cook and just chat about life. It’s kind of meditative for me, you know? I’ve got my Hell Squad over for dinner every night. And they’re happy to send me money to keep the whole thing going. I haven’t worked a traditional job since 2019, so I can spend all my time on this. Five days a week, dawn to dusk.”

“So, tell me Mr. Hellspawn, where did you come up with that name?”

“Not a lot of people know this, but I’ve had that name since kindergarten. I was a real troublemaker as a kid, and my father would always call me Mr. Hellspawn whenever I did anything he didn’t like. I don’t really talk to him anymore, but that name has stuck with me. I wear it as a badge of honor. Barely anyone in my life calls me by my legal name… which I guess he also gave me.”

Frank looked over at the empty corner. “You… don’t talk to your father anymore?”

“No, not at all. We were never very close at the best of times. He kicked me out when I was fifteen and we haven’t spoken since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It doesn’t really bother me anymore, to be honest. He used to haunt my dreams, but… Now, I don’t think I can even remember his face.”

Frank’s hands shook. He gripped the microphone stand to keep them stationary.

Mike cleared his throat to break the dead air. “What are some of your favorite moments from your livestream?”

Hellspawn chuckled. “I think that might be when I tried making veal schnitzel from scratch. I ended up breading my hand by mistake, and the chat just kept saying, ‘glove hand! Glove hand!’ It’s become one of many inside jokes with my community.”

“And how was the schnitzel?”

“Oh, it was terrible. I had no idea what I was doing. It was like a piece of shoe leather with burnt grease on the outside. I had to order takeout.”

Frank breathed heavily. “I have to go.”

Mike was confused. “Buddy, we just got started! Do you always end your shows early?”

“I just… I can’t…”

“We can take a break -”

“No, no, no! I need to get out of here!”

“Fine! I’ll finish the damn show. I’m doing most of the work anyway. Do your closing line before you leave.”

“I… I’ve been The Frank Program. Thank you - Thank you for letting me be…” he made eye contact with Hellspawn and panicked. He quickly ran out of the studio and slammed the door.

[lemonflowercat]

75 soft but real soft hehe

it's been weeks since my last 75 soft, and since then i've had multiple menty-meltdowns, intense therapy hours and zombie-days where i've played game after game of 2048 (i'm a pro at it now, btw). i've had days that ended with the peaceful self-satisfaction of getting shit done, i've had days of going to bed with a sense of failure ringing deep in my bones. i've had days of eating so healthy, being fully aware of my hunger-fullness cues and honoring them, i've had days of munchie after munchie - rummaging through the snack cupboard at the end of every episode of a mindless Netflix TV show.

75 soft/hard have been touted as mental toughness challenges to imbue rigor and discipline and structure and perseverance - and the only measure of success? seeing every one of those 75 days through to the end. i understand that this may have changed many lives out there for the better, and i also understand the importance of the values the 75 soft/hard is based on.

but i also think that, just like all things in the world, there's more than one lesson an experience can teach me - and often it may not be what i hoped to get out of it. but it always will be something i needed.

my 5 failed attempts at 75 soft have taught me

the importance of kind self-talk. i think this is the most underrated, not-spoken-of-enough, never-done-enough, harder-than-you'd-except form of self love and self parenting. to talk to myself, not in the worst ways that people around me have spoken to me, but in the kind ways that they have. and in the nice ways that i would show up for people i care about. in a way that doesn't make me feel like a failure before i can even start expanding/growing. in a way that makes me feel loved and safe - because only when these feelings are met am i able to engage with the rest of the world from a place of curiosity, hope and love.

that unmet goals don't equate to failure. it isn't easy to stop listening to all those nagging voices in my head/unchecked boxes on my to-do list constantly reminding me of my inadequacies. but with practice, i can disengage from them emotionally, question their validity, and accept that either way i am enough. it's funny how hard it is for me to tell myself, lemonflowercat, even if you haven't worked out in a week or eaten healthy today or studied for even 30m or drank enough water, you are enough and worthy and loved and beautiful.

that i can draw boundaries. i can voice things i'm not ok with, what i need more of and less of to be able to do what's most important to me. that i don't have to reflexively please - i can be a square peg in a round hole with poky corners taking up space - and if that makes people like me less? it's completely ok, because i still know my worth.

to slow down and pay attention what feels good for me and do what my body/mind want in that moment vs what "i should" "i'm supposed" "i need to" "i have to" do.

to believe in myself more - just me, as myself, with no comparison to anyone else not even the past me. and i say the latter because too often have i caught me comparing myself to a certain way i was in the past when the kind of life and thoughts i had back then are so different from the way things are currently. i know people say that you only try to be better than yourself - but even this feels like an unfair ask, honestly.

that my fluidity - which i have tried so long, so hard to box into rigidity - is my strength.

to trust that everything is going to be ok. and, like i mentioned on another day here - i don't have to carry the burden of the past or the future as i live my now.

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E: Moments - Part 4 - The Meeting (Set in 2020)

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16 @janetreader

This takes place during Part 2, after Eddie texts Kirby, extends into Part 3.

Also, Kirby is still Orange. Italics are inner thoughts.

Eddie's P.O.V:

He had talked Moxley into dropping him off at the meeting place, checking out of his hotel room and takin his bags with him. Something in the back of his mind had convinced him to leave, trying to make him run but also desperately wanting him to take Her with him.

"You didn't tell me what flavour you wanted so I went with strawberry."

Her voice alone was enough to make him want to smile, especially when she's calm and not sobbing or screaming. Decent choice, damn you look pretty in this light, "I wanted to see what you'd choose." In all honesty he had forgotten to actually think before sending her a text back, "These fries for me?"

"Yeah, I don't know what you like so I hope it's okay."

If I'm with you, Hell, I'd eat anything you bought me, "More than okay," Now comes the make-or-break question, how do you respond to smokers, "you don't mind if I smoke?" He asks, already lighting up the cigarette.

"I'm more than okay with it, I've been around smokers my whole life."

Eddie raises an eyebrow, she didn't smell like cigarettes, and she hadn't seemed like the type who had even seen a cigarette before last night in the hotel, she was too innocent, too gentle for that to be real. "Really, do ya parents smoke?"

"No, my uncles do. All seven of them, Many of my cousins do too."

Okay, now she's fuckin' wit' me, she's gotta be, that's a fuckin' lie an' I'm fuckin' callin' her on it, "Big family?"

She scrolls through her phone before showing Eddie a photo of her and her family and the many, many people she's related to, "The Rhydderch clan, owners of C.R.C and trainers to many."

Holy shit, she wasn't lyin', that's a lot of people, "Jesus H, you have a big family, are those two ya parents?" Please say yes, 'cause I don't wanna guess who in this photo is if it ain't them.

"The two on the left, yeah, needless to say neither of them were expecting me to be a giant."

"Any brothers or sisters? Nieces, nephew?" Anyone who might kick my ass if I flirt wit' ya?

"Nope, just me, Mam and Da."

"Any boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancé?" Anyone who'll really kick my ass if i flirt wit' ya?

"That's very forward of you, Eddie."

Shit, act casual, cover up the flirting dumbass, "I just ant to know if there's anyone, other than the girls and Damien," who I will kill if ya let me, "in your life."

"Nope, as far as I'm concerned, I'm by myself."

Eddie nods as he leans back, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he looks at her. I think you're so fuckin' pretty, I wanna make you happy and I wanna make you my girl. I don't just wanna fuck ya, I wanna love you, romance ya, fuck it, I'll marry your fine ass, If you'll be mine forever I would die happy.

"I have… had friends, back home, T.J, Mike and Yoshi. Haven't spoken to them since I left Wales, though, two years ago." She mutters.

"You have me," he smiles softly, before realizing how the words sound, "and Mox, if you need us, I'm always a text or phone call away if you need me."

"You'll protect me?" She cocks an eyebrow as she jokes.

"Yeah. Sure on TV we're at war right now, but now I know what your 'Boss' is like, and he's an asshole by the way," Eddie grins, "I'm gonna keep you safe whether you like it or not."

"Don't be an ass, Eddie." She chuckles, her laugh making Eddie fall further for her.

He sticks his tongue out to make her laugh a little longer before deciding to tell her why he's got his bags with him.

"You're stuck with me today, kid, so you better get used to this asshole." He winks, upping his more flirtatious behaviour and expecting her to call him on it, but she doesn't.

"I'm stuck with you." Her smile drops, replaced with what he assumes is concern, "As in Mox dropped you off so you'll be with me all day?"

"Exactly, so put up and shut up." I know you ain't concerned for me, so why that look, "Where's your car anyway? We can talk and drive, get you to relax around me, too."

Eddie smokes as they walk to her car, glancing at her and smiling when his eyes connect with hers. He finishes his cigarette and disposes of it properly, knowing that she's watching him. A wave of nostalgia hits Eddie when Kirby turns the car on and her music starts playing. House of Pain, Irish-American Rap from New York, from 1990s New York.

"Oh man," He sighs happily, "you listen to House of Pain?"

"Yeah, why? Do you want me to turn it off?"

"Nah, how do I turn it up?" And which button is the volume, not that one, nope, no… she's staring at me, I should've waited for an answer.

[thedreadvampy]

Scuse me doing a vent

The situation is thus:

My partner's partner has recently ended a very messy and toxic relationship. both they and their ex were hot messes in the most unhelpfully complementary way and they sent each other into an increasingly toxic spiral - the ex was clingy, paranoid and overbearing and the partner's partner was frequently cold, unkind, belittling and downright nasty to and about them. they broke up and got back together over and over again even though it was incredibly clear that they were making each other miserable.

there was some moderate messiness around the breakup. before the breakup I had sat down with the ex (who I don't know outside this) and encouraged them to end the relationship and let it go instead of continually pressuring their partner to keep taking them back when it was making them both so unhappy. I was real mad about it too bc honestly while I totally understood the partner's reactions bc I too have very much dealt with the kind of emotional black hole of person-in-perpetual-crisis that the ex is, I thought they were being consistently really shitty to the ex and I told the ex that. the next day the ex broke up with the partner and there was a whole big 3 day drama I got sucked into about the partner trying to delete the ex from my life, which I was like OK MAN THAT'S NOT YOUR DECISION. we've since worked it out - emotions were high and I was triggered as fuck and all told it was a mess. but they did break up permanently. which is good.

fast forward a couple of months to last week. my partner and their partner have been organising an antitransphobia movement space for the last few months. the ex feels that they're being unfairly excluded from participating in that movement space.

the ex started messaging me last week asking if I wanted to get a coffee and catch up. the same day, I hear from my partner and from my best friend (who is very close to my partner and their partner) that they've been constantly talking about the breakup in the organising discord server, that it's escalating to accusations of abuse and maybe to demands that the partner be removed from the space, and that other people have started weighing in. both my friend and my partner are a wreck, particularly my friend cause this is like the 3rd time an organising group they've been in has come catastrophically apart at the seams when interpersonal drama ends up exploding into a bunch of triggering public litigation. my partner is trying to calm the situation down and act as a point of contact between the ex and their partner, but they were also already really annoyed with the ex for largely unrelated reasons AND they're worried about their partner spiraling out so they're struggling hard.

I'm worried about my friend and my partner, but I'm also not fucking in this conversation - I'm not on the discord, I don't think me weighing in would help anyone, and tbh my opinion on the original situation is: as far as I can tell neither of them were abusive in the sense of an unbalanced power situation; they were both pretty vile to each other throughout the relationship; it was a Bad Idea relationship that made both of them their worst selves; from out here it seems pretty clear that the best thing either of them could do for themselves is stay the fuck out of each other's way as much as possible, and I know that's easier said than done but the ex seems very actively opposed to even TRYING to not be in constant contact with the partner and that's a great way to erode any sympathy I have here, frankly.

anyway as I say I was quite happy to Not Be Involved

uhhhhh so the ex messaged me today to bitch about how my partner is being So Rude To Them in all this? we haven't like. spoken. other than them asking me if I wanted to catch up.

I blew up a bit tbh I was like hey man. I'm not fucking involved and I don't want to be but wild that you would open with complaining about my partner as if I'm likely to agree? also maybe idk consider that emotions are running high and given that you rightly expect that people will give you some grace for being Brain Problems and upset, maybe grant the same grace to other people?

they've just messaged me back actually post cancelled I'm not reading that goodnight

anyway I'm having a whole Second Hand Drama Time this week and I'm not going to let myself get dragged all the way back into it bc the last blowup when they broke up had me fucked up for like 2 weeks, it's very Ungood for me from a trauma perspective to get pulled into this specific flavour of drama

but also like. this is my confessional bit cause I know it's not a worthy thought. man I have sucked it up and played nice and removed myself from MULTIPLE spaces I wanted to be in to avoid starting shit with people who have behaved much more directly violently to me than the partner appears to have with the ex (mostly their crime, and as I say I fully agree that they were out of line, is being a bit of a dick to the ex, giving them the cold shoulder, and sometimes abruptly asking them to go home). and it's the same feeling I get whenever other people's interpersonal drama becomes this massive all-encompassing Thing I'm just like jesus fuck pull it together. suck it up and get out of the way of people who you know you can't be around. because at this point it just feels like you want to hurt them and don't mind hurting yourself in the process and I just do not have patience for that, especially when doing that is also throwing a massive spanner in the works of both a very urgent political organising space and a bunch of other people's fucking lives.

like I very much believe that we should take accusations of abuse seriously but I would say if I personally felt unsafe around someone what I wouldn't do is try to elbow my way into a group they just started and complain about not being let in. I would probably. go find a different organising space that wasn't run by someone I didn't want to be around. if I felt they were a danger to others I might talk to people in that group privately but like. why are you getting mad that you can't go to places the person you're beefing with is in? why are you mad that they won't answer your messages? why are you waiting for them to validate you? fucking hell man cut yourself loose.

[fullspectrumdiary]

Today's image is because I am intuitively feeling a connection to the Amber stage of development, associated with tradition and communal bonding, as well as taking on roles. Although I haven't spoken with hardly anyone today, I resonate with this stage because I have been watching Dr. STONE since yesterday, in which people take on various responsibilities in to help create a simple civilization, and also because I have been browsing 4chan a lot, where a lot of traditionalist sentiment as well as group identity is very important to the people. Anons seem to hold a very strong group identity, because they don't post with names so they post without the encumberance of the kind of narcissistic self-gratification that a lot of social media leads people to in the way that it is implemented technologically, with profiles and so on. I was reading a research paper about it just after I woke up, actually.

The rubies are in the chalice because there is also a lot of red power-dynamic there, what with people using slurs and so on to try and establish a kind of authority based on who can be the nastiest and have the most offensive views on the level of the individual post. Incendiary content is supposed to make the post more attractive to readers, similar to clickbait. The difference is that with clickbait, there is a slimy ulterior motive, whereas with 4chan, it's more just a plea for attention. That's not to say that's all of them, though - I had a nice conversation with a person who called themselves "Christian Universalist AI Will Save The World", and they seemed like a fairly nice person with a few good ideas. I broadly agreed with most of the things they said.

Part of my life involves using various mental tricks to accomplish certain interior changes, similar to how people see magic in modern treatments. Today, I have been keeping the name YHWH in my awareness intermittently, and this image is quite emblematic of how I feel when I do this.

Another part of my life is meditation on objects of focus, and the one I have been with today has been the word "AQAL". I was doing this while holding fast to the name of the LORD, since I felt that it helped transmute energy. It was pretty fun doing it while listening to music. Quite a few songs by Tiesto, Paul Oakenfold and others. I must get into Aphex Twin more.

As usual, I did my daily 20 minute meditation with iAwake Technologies' Profound Meditation Program. It was nice, and I stayed for an extra 20 minutes. Lots of heart-awareness, and an all-pervasive feeling of love, and that everything is being taken care of.

I had really, really nice dreams before I woke up as well because the Releasing tracks from the aforementioned PMP came on accidentally while I was asleep, so I was just floating in this beautiful, calming white light for a good while before waking up.

I am currently really enjoying reading a book called Finding Radical Wholeness by Ken Wilber.

I have also noticed, while writing these posts and re-reading them, that I have talked a lot about what I do a lot more than how I feel. I feel like a vast expanse of pure awareness in my head, and a small warm feeling in my heart. Sometimes, when I remember to breathe, it all expands and gets much lighter and kinder. I find it has a lot to do with my posture. Quite often, I am sitting or lying in bed, which leads to a certain amount of crushing. I wish I could remedy this. In fact, I can, because I have a desk which I have not heretofore used much. I may yet do this.

In terms of emotions, I am beginning to feel lonely and bored. I was at Julia's house for quite a while, and that was a real heart-opening experience in which I felt much. Alone, I feel little. There is a lot of bliss, there is a lot of ecstasy, there is a lot of exhilaration, and there is very, very little "real" feeling, the kind normal people have. Occasionally, I feel anger that the staff at my house are telling me to do things. But I do them, and it makes it better. I talked back to one of the staff members yesterday, but then I was nice to her and it made it okay.

Aside from a persistent annoyance at the world and a wish to escape it to some other imagined blissful state, there is very little actual feeling. Ken Wilber warns about this in his book The Religion of Tomorrow. He calls it "splitting" - where Heaven and Earth are imagined to be distinct places, one of which one feels more comfortable than the other. I want to integrate Heaven and Earth within myself, but that would mean talking to people more. If only I slept at the right times, I would probably do that. I do talk to my friends on the phone, because they are safe people. And I talk to Tyler, one of the residents here, because he is a safe person. Most of the staff are safe. I wish I could walk around downstairs and feel like I wasn't going to get recruited to do some chore or other. But actually, I know that the chores really help, and they only last 15 minutes at the absolute maximum. So what am I afraid of?

One really frustrating thing in my life so far which I think I am now finished with is the urge to do more, to be better, to excel at life, to take on bigger challenges, and to generally be the hero of my own life story. I don't think i need that anymore. I think I can finally be free to think as I please, do as I please, and have fun. It's about time!

That's all for today. I may or may not post another image, as the fancy takes me.

Note to self: do not forget Care Coordinator's appointment on Wednesday at 3pm. I haven't seen her in weeks! I like Yasmin.

[llycaons]

it may not look like it because of the blogging but I've been studying for almost 10 hours and I have the same to look forward to in the next few days so if anyone wants to send me asks telling me how their day is going or things that have made them happy recently or cql headcanons that would be much appreciated <3 anon's still off but I won't publish it if you ask me not to

[melanielocke]

The Stars Collide - Chapter 4

I hope you enjoy this next chapter. I haven't made as much progress this week but fortunately I am a little ahead in my writing. This one is solely Thomas' POV, next one will be Alastair's. The illness Thomas has, FMF, exists in real life. While the name wouldn't make sense in the context of this being set on a fictional planet, I decided to keep it anyway as making up a different name for an existing illness would be even more confusing. In our world, FMF mainly occurs in Mediterranean people (which is where the name comed from) and is a genetic illness that causes episodes of fever along with joint pain. Episodes typically last up to 4 days, frequency varies wildly. There's medication for it that someone would take continuously, which lessens the frequency of episodes (but does not take them away completely) and also decreases the risk of kidney and heart disease in later life.

Chapter list

Thomas tried to find a comfortable position on the couch. He had not foreseen being put in a situation where he’d have to sleep on the couch and therefore had never bothered to buy a couch he’d fit on. As it was, he couldn’t stretch his legs.

He wished he could have just talked to Alastair. He didn’t blame Alastair for kissing him so soon. Thomas would have preferred if he’d asked but he guessed Alastair had had different expectations of what a wedding night entailed. And he wouldn’t have minded, Alastair was attractive and with time Thomas thought he could grow to love him. Except it had been quite obvious that Alastair hadn’t really wanted it, that he was pushing himself because he’d thought he was supposed to, and that was not something Thomas had been prepared for. If there was anything Thomas didn’t want to do, it was sleeping with someone who didn’t want him.

He'd speak to Alastair in the morning, he decided. They would both need to set some boundaries if they were going to make this work. In the end, Thomas decided to sleep on the carpet instead. The couch might be softer, but at least here he could stretch his legs.

When he woke up in the morning, he entered the bedroom to get dressed to find Alastair wasn’t there anymore. The bed was made as if he hadn’t been anyone there at all, nor was there any trace of Alastair’s things. Thomas’ heart rate sped up. Where was Alastair? Had he gone to file for divorce already?

He changed into a simple green tunic and trousers before going to the kitchen to find something to eat. Would Alastair like something too? He wasn’t in the kitchen either and Thomas didn’t have a clue where he would have gone so early in the morning.

Thomas baked some oat milk pancakes. With the limited amount of available space on the planet, cattle farming didn’t exist and Thomas himself never used imported products.

Before eating, he decided to look around if he could find Alastair anywhere. It turned out he was on the balcony, Thomas started coughing immediately as he stepped outside. Alastair was in the middle of smoking a cigarette.

‘I, uh, didn’t realize you smoked,’ Thomas said.

‘Sorry, is that a problem?’ Alastair asked, blowing out smoke. ‘I tried to quit after Charles died. I brought it down to four cigarettes a day, but I’ve gotten stuck there.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t smoke inside, or at the balcony. The smell will still get inside,’ Thomas said. ‘I have a chronic illness. Being exposed to cigarette smoking might make me sicker.’

Alastair looked away. ‘Oh. I didn’t know that. I’m trying to quit, I promise. But it’s not easy.’

‘I understand. If you can’t resist, you could go farther outside than the balcony. And I would also prefer if you asked before kissing or touching me.’

Alastair flinched, and Thomas wondered why. ‘I’m sorry. I thought it was what you wanted, I can see now I was wrong. It won’t happen again.’

‘I made breakfast,’ Thomas said. ‘Do you want anything?’

‘I’m not hungry,’ Alastair said. ‘Thanks anyway. I was wondering if it would be okay if I called my mother today. I haven’t spoken to her in some time and I miss her.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Why are you asking me? You know how to make a call, right?’

‘Right,’ Alastair said. ‘Can I use the computer in your study?’

‘All yours,’ Thomas said. ‘I wasn’t planning on using it this morning. You don’t have a computer of your own?’

‘No,’ Alastair said.

‘Oh,’ Thomas said, wondering if Alastair was one of those people who believed using technology was bad. ‘Well, you can use the one in my study, but we can shop for a computer of your own too sometime. I’m not sure how you survived without one.’

Alastair shrugged. ‘Charles let me use his computer sometimes.’

Thomas decided against inquiring any further, he wasn’t sure if Alastair would be willing to answer. Instead, he wrote down his computer pin for Alastair so he could use it.

‘There are pancakes in the kitchen,’ Thomas said instead. ‘I’ll put some in the fridge for you, they’re really good cold too.’

Thomas ate his breakfast quickly. Alastair had left the balcony and entered the study, and Thomas quickly opened the door to let Alastair know he was going out and would be back around lunch time.

‘That’s alright.’

‘Is it working, calling your mother?’

‘I am waiting for a response, but it always takes some time for a call to a different planet to get through.’

‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’

Thomas packed a bag and made his way to the palace dojo. He’d always been into martial arts. As a frequently sick child, martial arts had made him feel strong in between his fevers. Familial Mediterranean Fever it was called, something he had been diagnosed with in his teens. It was a rare genetic disorder, which was why it had taken so long until someone thought of it. Now that he was grown up and medicated, he had episodes maybe four to six times a year as opposed to monthly.

He wasn’t alone in the dojo, he recognized Cordelia Carstairs practicing her moves against a boxing ball. He hadn’t spoken to her for long the other night, but if he wanted to improve his relationship with Alastair he should put some effort into getting to know his sister.

‘Cordelia,’ Thomas said, hoping their familial ties were close enough for a first name basis.

‘Thomas, I didn’t realize you came here.’

‘I’ve been doing martial arts since I was a child.’

‘Me too,’ Cordelia said. ‘Where’s Alastair?’

‘At home, calling your mother,’ Thomas said. He paused. ‘Do you know why he doesn’t own his own computer or a phone or anything? Does he have something against technology?’

‘Not that I know,’ Cordelia said. ‘At home he used to have a computer, he needed it for studying. He was always far ahead in his studies, so he had just finished his bachelor’s degree when he married Charles even though he was only seventeen. I thought he’d continue studying while married, but that would be difficult without a computer. I heard so little from him, I have no idea what he’s been up to.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Thomas said.

He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for him to get involved in Alastair’s family issues, he didn’t know why Alastair had cut off contact and Thomas didn’t think it was any of his business. Still, it seemed like Alastair wanted his sister in his life again.

‘Me too. But I hope now that Charles is gone he’ll want us in his life again. You want to spar?’

‘Are you sure? I’m a lot taller than you and I don’t think we’ve learnt the same style.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’d like to see how my new brother in law fights.’

‘Alright,’ Thomas said.

Cordelia was faster than Thomas, but Thomas had always been strong in his defense, and despite the difference in height they matched each other rather well. Her style was similar enough to his that Thomas could see what she was doing. Cordelia launched attack after attack, but Thomas was able to block all of them and even get an attack of his own in every once in a while. Cordelia dodged them all, and Thomas suspected the match would be determined by stamina, whoever outlasted the other won.

Thomas tried to launch an attack of his own and at the same time Cordelia tried something he did not recognize. He tried to stop himself, but because she lowered herself Thomas ended up hitting her in the face.

‘Ow!’ she yelped.

Thomas stepped back. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s alright,’ Cordelia said. ‘Just an accident. But damn that hurts. You’re strong.’

‘Come, I’ll get you some ice to put on it,’ Thomas said.

He found some ice in the freezer of the dojo and Cordelia put it on her cheek, sitting down in a chair.

‘I’m still getting used to the gravity of this planet,’ Cordelia said. ‘It’s kind of nice, but also weird.’

‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been to a different planet,’ Thomas said.

‘Turan is a bigger planet, and therefore our gravity is stronger. People from the Fair Planet often struggle there.’

‘Eugenia told me you can see differences in bone density and muscle mass in people from different planets,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s rather interesting.’

‘Your sister, right?’

‘She’s a doctor,’ Thomas said. ‘Graduated a couple of months ago and started working in surgery. Do you have any siblings besides Alastair?’

‘A little brother, Rostam. He was born after Alastair married Charles and after my father died. He’s five now.’

‘What’s he like?’ Thomas asked.

‘Far too smart for his own good,’ Cordelia said. ‘He’s like Alastair in that regard, except Alastair was far more quiet and grumpy. Rostam is a little agent of chaos. Would it be okay if I came with you when you go home? I want to ask Alastair how his conversation with Maman went.’

‘Sure,’ Thomas said. ‘You’re welcome anytime. Do you intend to stay here for long?’

‘I’m kind of in between jobs at the moment,’ Cordelia said. ‘So I think I’m going to stay here for the time being and maybe see if there’s anything I can do around here.’

‘What did you do before?’

‘Military pilot,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m pretty good at flying, but the military didn’t work for me. Plenty of places they need pilots though.’

‘I don’t doubt you can find something,’ Thomas said.

‘No, me neither. But it is difficult to have Rostam and my mother back home in Turan and Alastair here. I don’t want to leave either.’

‘Good thing you’re a pilot,’ Thomas said. ‘That should make it easier to travel in between planets.’

‘It is, but I can’t make a three day journey every other week,’ Cordelia said. ‘I did hear this planet’s witches are looking for a pilot to help them gather ingredients for their charms. Do you know them? Tessa Gray and Lucie Herondale they are called.’

‘Lucie is one of my closest friends, I’m sure you’d like her,’ Thomas said. ‘She’s around your age, writes books, she has her first book coming out soon. But she’s also a witch.’

‘I’ve always been curious how that works. The gifts Maman claims come from the stars can’t be taught, but I heard people can learn to be a witch.’

‘It’s a very long process, hardly anyone bothers when there’s people like Tessa and Lucie for whom it comes naturally. I think you should take the job, it sounds like a good offer and if you ever need to return to your mother they’d understand.’  

Taglist: @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs

[yoonpobs]

10 years | ksj

pairing: kim seokjin x oc (ft. brother!jimin)

genre: brother's best friend, angst, forgiveness?, teeny tiny fluff (it's barely there lol)

words: 7, 294

summary: 10 years change people but you still remember

"Why are you freaking out?" Isabelle is attempting to get you to stay in one position, but it's fruitless when all you do is pace back and forth in the space of the changing rooms when you hear people barking orders from the outside.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" You exasperate.

Isabelle glares at you, nimble hands reaching to tighten the lace corset around your waist in one swift motion; turning your body to face her as she does her job of primping you up.

"You're being dramatic." She rolls her eyes.

You huff.

You loved Isabelle, probably because she's been working for your family for years and that she was the mother figure in your life that you never could have gotten from your own biological one—but also because she was the only person that knew her way around that thorny mind of yours.

"What would you do if you haven't seen someone in over ten years and the last memory you have with them is bitter?" You say in a hushed whisper.

Isabelle's eyes soften, hands reaching out to rest on your shoulders as your head droops, anxiety blooming in your chest even if you weren't the one getting married today.

"What can you do but say hello?" She says, "Time doesn't stop for anyone, _____."

You sigh, fiddling with your fingers when you hear the rustles of the curtains, causing both of your heads to turn towards the source of the noise.

"_____, your brother is asking for you." Lea, your brother's wedding planner, peeks her head through the curtains to call you.

Your heart betrays your seemingly calm stature as you begin to perspire, terrified of being face to face with the person that you should've been most excited to see.

"Time's up, ______. You can't run forever." Isabelle says, eyes solemn.

"You'd think being an adult would mean you grow out of old habits ..." Jimin mutters, glaring at you when you finally make your appearance at the rehearsal dinner.

You stick your tongue out at him petulantly, unable to forget the fact that he was no longer the older brother that you hero-worshipped because he excelled in everything that he did, nor was he the kid that stole your figurines to spite you. He was a man, older and more mature—with a wedding to celebrate the beginning of a new life with his partner.

He looks nervous, you can tell because you know Jimin better than most—a position you begrudgingly gave up in replacement of his wife, Risa—so you offer him a squeeze of his shoulder, and a look to tell him that you were here, and he was okay.

Jimin accepts it with a small smile of gratitude, moving aside so you could take your seat on the VIP table where most of his important guests sat, meaning your parents, Risa's parents, the best man and the maid of honour.

From the moment you stepped foot into the hall, you spot the person that should have been unfamiliar to you, but all you can remember is what was the best years of your life that was taken away from you. It should've been hard to spot him through the pastels and people, but you've always had eyes for him—the foolish lens of a girl that didn't want to grow up.

Even as you seat at the table, mingling with your future sister-in-law, and the maid of honour, along with Risa's parents, you can't bring yourself to acknowledge him just yet, and he has yet to make it known that he acknowledges you too.

Perhaps it was the pettiness from both ends. The fact that neither of you wanted to step down just yet, the last known interaction between the both of you only causing your heart to constrict further. You wonder if he remembers you the way you have with him.

"______," Risa calls your name, leaning in to whisper into your ear as you snap your focus on her.

"Hey, sorry." You mumble, scratching your neck, "Was a little distracted."

Risa offers you an understanding smile and you're grateful to the heaven's above that Jimin managed to make a woman like her fall in love with him. It was a far better alternative and change from the demons he used to go for as a high schooler, and you fondly (but not really) remember fighting off crazy exes when your brother decided that they weren't his long-term.

"Is this about ..." You can tell Risa hesitates to say his name, knowing the matter was still a fresh wound for you even if you had a decade to heal.

You sigh, reaching for her hand to give it a squeeze, mustering a strong front so she wouldn't worry anymore.

"Don't worry about me. It's your special day." You remind her with a soft smile.

She scoffs.

"Not yet. This is to ensure nothing goes to shit and no one gets left at the altar on a real day." She mutters.

You giggle, and even Jimin picks up on his soon-to-be wife's comment and pinches her hip, giving her a glare that lacked any real malice. You observe the way Jimin leans into his fiancee's touch when she reaches for his hand, a gesture so simple but carried the weight of lovers that wholly trusted each other.

Sometimes you envied Jimin. Throughout your adolescent years, you were always pinned against him for reasons that you still cannot justify.

The two of you were fundamentally different in nature. Jimin was a quiet kid, but his actions were the ones that spoke for him instead. For what he couldn't say in words, he made up for through the results of his actions. As a younger sibling, watching Jimin excel in every activity that he sets his mind to make you worship him, wanting to be as talented and ambitious as he was.

If he did kendo, you'd sign up so you could carry on the legacy of his talent. When he ran for class president, so did you in your own grades. Everything was always stemmed around Jimin and what he did.

Even if he was quiet, he naturally took the lead in doing things. Where you were the polar opposite. A louder than life personality should have made you the proactive one, but deep down you were meek, timid and terrified of doing things out of your comfort zone.

It did hit a sore spot for you and Jimin's relationship when he grew up enough to no longer facilitate his baby sister's incessant whines and tugs to join him in his activities. You remember the day clearly when he told you that you were nothing but an extension of him.

When you look back, you can think of it as a fond memory of two teenagers that were horrible at speaking about their feelings, but you remember the hurt you felt; only wanting to be a part of Jimin's life when he wanted to be on his own.

It took a few years to repair the relationship that was fragile, to begin with, and it wasn't just the effort of you or Jimin, but—

"Hyung, do you need to run the video through IT to check if it's playable?"

You're brought back to the present when Jimin's voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you instantly know who he's referring to.

The only person that he could comfortably refer to as 'hyung' was the only person that you have yet to greet, or acknowledge.

"I see what you're doing, Park. You're not seeing this video until the 13th."

The rest of the people at the table laugh at the banter between best friend's, but you remain uncharacteristically silent. No one picks up on it—or if they did, they know well enough not to point it out for the sake of maintaining normalcy at the table.

You listen attentively to the briefing run down by Lea, and you smile fondly at the fire that the young wedding planner carried in herself. She was meticulous, and you only had Risa to thank for managing to get the most dedicated wedding planner that you were sure was out there.

Eventually, you had to practice the walk-in from the runway, up until the altar behind where the bride and groom were to be situated. That meant you have shuffled around under Lea's commands, and that you caught more of his appearance than you would have liked.

Of course, he grew up beautifully. He had always been exceptionally good-looking even from when you were in high school up to your early college years. The birth lottery definitely favoured some people, and he was on the top of the list.

But he no longer had the same youthful charm that he did when you last saw him at 23. He looked rougher around the edges, lines on his face that come with time and experience, the stroke of a paintbrush that you weren't there to witness. Age did him well—and you couldn't deny the fact that as he grew, he also grew more attractive. The assuredness that comes with age, and the physique that you can only appreciate from afar.

The suit he's wearing is ever so flattering on his broad shoulders. He followed the theme well, a black blazer, with a deep-maroon sash draped over his shoulders. You applaud the designer that had done the fitting for him because it looked perfect, quite literally like it was made for him.

You feel mediocre immediately. The dress you were wearing was stunning—in the most objective sense—and you had a matching coloured sash that was draped around your hips instead, the corset accentuating your figure. But you were still far from comparison from him. You always have been.

"_____, could you please stand next to Jin?" Lea's voice calls out an order from the front of the altar, waving her notebook at you to step aside.

Your eyes widen as you feel the blood in your face drain, hearing your new position for the photo session.

You don't want to throw anyone off, or make Jimin's special day about you—so you suck it up, take a deep breath and shuffle into position next to Jin.

His presence is overwhelming. It's like he's there but he isn't. He doesn't feel like he's there, probably because of how long the two of you haven't spoken to each other, basically strangers. You don't acknowledge him even when your shoulder accidentally brushes against his arm, and you definitely don't acknowledge him when Lea smiles at the two of you and says perfect.

You see Risa's concerned stare on the two of you, but you give her a tight smile and mouth to her to focus on what Lea's saying instead. She narrows her eyes at you but finally relents when you nod your head to tell her that it was fine.

You were older. You weren't going to let some ... you didn't even know what to call it. But you weren't going to let the past make you feel uncomfortable when the future hasn't been told just yet.

"Jin—could you loosen up a little? It looks like you're constipated and your face isn't going to make up for that on camera," Lea deadpans, shooting a blunt comment straight at Jin.

He flushes beside you, but you don't look at him to know that because you hypothesised that he still has the same habit of his ear's turning red if all attention is on him.

"You and I know my face would've been the highlight of the picture if it weren't for the lovebirds." He quips back.

You can't find it in yourself to laugh yet when others do, but you look down at your feet to pretend like you were distracted.

Even his voice sounds more like himself. He had always been Jin, but it's like he grew out of the mould he forced himself into when you last saw him; a more relaxed yet determined version of the past that no longer exists.

"Jin!" Lea calls out.

"That seems to be your favourite word today ..." Jin mutters, which causes Jimin to snort at his best friend's antics.

Risa slaps your brother on his shoulder and narrows her eyes at him, and it's comical how fast she managed to get him to neutralise his expression.

"For a very good reason," Lea retorts, "Could you hold _____ by the waist? The space between the two of you looks too awkward."

If only she knew.

This was possibly the situation that you wanted to avoid the most, not even acknowledging him yourself, or his name to say hello—but he had to hold you close like you were something to him.

"Shouldn't he be holding the maid of honour—?" You helplessly try to reason, but the words get stuck in your throat when Lea glares at you.

For someone younger than you, and smaller than you in height too—she was terrified when she had to be.

"It's ... fine," Jin says after a beat of silence.

Then, his hand snakes around your waist so snug as he pulls you slightly closer to him that you almost lose your footing.

You gulp, unable to ignore the heat of his grasp or the way that it feels so natural as he rests his palm loosely on your hips, fingers drumming against the bone absentmindedly as Lea directs the photographer with angles that she best believe captures the moment.

When the photographer begins the countdown, you force a smile as genuine as you can, while Jin squeezes your hips as the shutter goes off.

"You two looked comfy." Jimin slides into the seat next to you after the rehearsal, rubbing on his eye with a cotton pad to remove the makeup that was applied on him.

You scowl, swatting his hand away to berate him for causing wrinkles so early on as he huffs at your adamancy.

"Don't ignore me," He pokes your side as you sigh.

"Then don't overthink it, okay? It was for the picture." You grumble, eyes focused on the bits and bobs of makeup tools at the vanity inside the changing rooms.

You can feel Jimin's stare on you, as well as how hard he thinks. Call it a sibling intuition, but you knew exactly when he was overanalysing situations, and you felt that at this exact moment.

"You know you have to speak to him eventually, right?" Jimin says after a while.

You freeze, fingers pausing as you tap against the table. Your eyes meet Jimin's through the mirror and you know he's serious, his expression says it all. But he wasn't there when it happened, and he wasn't you to feel how it felt.

"I went for ten years without talking to him. Another ten won't be hard." You clip.

Jimin sighs, turning his body to face you as you keep your shoulders towards him. It feels very much like when you were younger when Jimin sat you down to lecture you about your behaviour, or reprimanding you for doing certain things to keep you safe.

But it's vastly different. You're twenty-eight now, and you no longer took Jimin's words as the word of God, and he knew that.

"I don't know what exactly what went down between the two of you but according to Jin—"

"And you don't need to. It's been ages, Jimin. I've moved on." You snap.

Jimin purses his lips, seeing the way you're beginning to draw up all your walls against him again. It makes his heart clench because there was a time where you would have told him everything, where you would have confided him when you were having troubles. But he knew he ruined that relationship himself, and even if it's been over a decade since that fight the two of you had, the scar of the experience would always be there to haunt you both.

He knew you didn't hold it against him anymore, but he also recognised the way you'd subtly pull away sometimes, the reason why you never visited as often as you said you would in your infrequent phone calls.

"I'm just ..." He mumbles, looking at you earnestly but you don't return the stare, "I'm worried, ______."

You scoff.

"You don't need to. I won't cause a scene at your wedding, okay? I—I'm not like that ..." You start off strong, but finish in a soft whisper.

Jimin's eyes soften when he reaches a hand to rest against your shoulder.

"That's not what I meant." He sighs.

"Whatever it is that you meant just ... forget it, okay? I'm a grown-up now. I'm not your baby sister anymore." You tell him.

He flinches at the bluntness of your words but knows that you don't mean any harm to them. It was the truth that he had a hard time accepting, especially when he could've been there for you more during the years of university and the beginning of your work-life.

"I ..." Jimin trails off.

You sigh, turning around to finally face him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," You wince, "It's just that ... you don't need to worry about my battles anymore, Jimin. I've learnt how to deal with them on my own and you have your own set of things to worry about. I'll always be your sister, and nothing will change that—but I'm just not the same, impressionable girl I was a decade ago."

Jimin bites his lip as he mulls over your words, a fact hard for him to accept but nevertheless, he must. He always had the tendency to be overprotective and possessive, whether it be of his relationships, activities or belongings—it was an ugly trait that got the best of him from time to time.

He knew deep down, that he played a part in why you and Jin are so sour with each other, and he can't easily get rid of that guilt.

"I know, I know," He exhales, "If that's the case then ..."

You raise an eyebrow, willing him to continue.

"Then?"

"Don't let me be the reason why you can't fight your battles," He tells you softly.

Your expression remains stoic, but you internally agree with what he says. You'd never blame Jimin, and you knew it was irrational to do so—but the ugly feeling of needing someone to blame that wasn't yourself or Jin was dominant in your conscious.

"I promise." You smile at him extending your pinky finger out, and he grins at the old ritual the two of you would do as kids.

"Good." He ruffles your hair, and you glare at him when he messes up your up-do that Isabelle spent a long time on.

"Dude!" You whine, but he snickers at your reaction.

"Ah, can't believe that I'm getting married in a week." He adds as he stares at the ceiling.

You smile to yourself and nod your head in agreement.

"Remember when you told me you were going to marry Hana?" You snort.

He grimaces, the memories of his college self resurfacing at the reminder of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"Thank God you snapped me out of it," He whistles lowly, "She was fucking insane."

You chuckle at that because Jimin sure had a type, and it was the insane girls with daddy issues. Even Risa was a little crazy but she had a good heart to make up for it.

"It seems to be a trend with you." You shrug your shoulders.

He narrows his eyes at you and flicks you on the forehead before he glances down at his watch to curse under his breath.

"Fuck. I have a meeting at the office," He groans.

Your lips tilt upwards at his distraught as you pat him on the shoulder, gesturing him to leave.

"Don't worry. I'll find my way home."

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, Jimin—I'm sure. Now leave before they find a new CEO." You quip teasingly.

He thanks you, and presses a kiss onto your forehead before he scampers off, grabbing at his coat before he's out the door.

Once he's out of the room, you sigh to yourself; suddenly oddly nostalgic at your childhood, up to teenage memories as you and Jimin were speaking about it.

You purse your lips, unable to get Jin out of your head even when you look back to all the fun times you had as a teenager because he's always been there ... until he wasn't.

You wince, remembering the day it happened so clearly.

The smell of burnt something pricks the air and you only have yourself to blame.

You curse when you see clouds of black smoke escaping the small vents of your oven, the shady proof of how horrible you were at baking even if it was for a cause that resonated deeply in your heart.

You were thankful that your mom wasn’t home to witness your blunder because she surely would have yapped your ear off for trusting your clumsy self in the kitchen, let alone baking a recipe that was far out of your skill range.

“Why does it smell like—_____, really?” Jimin’s voice enters your thoughts as he ascends down the stairs of your home to spot you hastily fanning the smoke away with your mittens.

“Can you shut up and help me?” You hiss.

He laughs, loud and clear as he clutches his stomach to control his body.

“Dude—why?” He wheezes.

You chuck one of the mittens at him when he finally enters the kitchen, body moving at its own accord to get the trash bin along with the mitten that you threw at him while he pushes your body aside.

“Jin’s leaving tomorrow so I thought I would make some of his favourite shortbreads …” You mutter.

Jimin gracefully plucks out the burnt batch of shortbread and chucks it into the waste bin as you pout at your efforts being thrown away.

“And you didn’t bother asking for help when you know he gets his shortbread’s from a bakery?” He deadpans.

You roll your eyes and wipe your hands on your apron as you sigh.

“Look—I wasn’t thinking and now I don’t have anything to give him before he leaves!” You pout.

Jimin eyes you suspiciously and raises an eyebrow as he leans against the counter to observe your sullen expression.

“So? It’s not like he’d care.”

You glare at him.

“Well—I care.” You retort.

Jimin is silent for a moment before his eyes widen, his body inching closer to yours as if he found out something that he needed to tell you.

“Do you … do you like Jin?” Jimin gasps.

Your eyes widen, cheeks reddening simultaneously as you quickly shake your head to deny the fact—even though your heart and face betray you.

“W-What?” You squeak, “Of course not! It’s just a nice gesture to send him off.”

Jimin scoffs and narrows his eyes at you accusingly.

“Then why did you go out of your way to bake him something he likes when you know you’re hopeless in the kitchen?”

You roll your eyes, hoping your nonchalance plays off well enough to distract Jimin from the way your handshakes at the prospect of being caught.

“He’s my friend, Jimin. I do nice things for my friends sometimes.”

Jimin looks like he doesn’t believe you, and you wish that for one moment he wouldn’t use his brain to overthink your words or the sibling telepathy he claims to have to unravel your heart’s true intentions.

“He’s my best friend. Aren’t I supposed to be the one doing all of …” He gestures to the mess of the kitchen you left it in, “… this?”

“Well you don’t own him and you definitely don’t pick who Jin’s friends with. So fuck off will you?” You snap.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you.

“He’s five years older than you.” He reminds you slowly.

You sigh, busying yourself with cleaning up the kitchen counter.

“And? You’re two years older than me but you don’t see me condemning our sibling-ship.” You retort.

“That’s not what I meant,” He groans, “He doesn’t need a kid having a crush on him, okay? He’s off to university.”

The way Jimin uses the word ‘kid’ doesn’t sit well with you, as if to tell you that you were inferior to him and Jin because you were younger than him. But you weren’t far off, and heck, you’d argue that you were far more mature than your brother or any of his friends.

“I’m graduating high school this year.” You sneer.

“And Jin is off to university!” He exasperates.

“I don’t know what your problem is because I—don’t—have—a—crush—on—him!” You emphasise with a shove of your finger to his chest with every word.

“You better not because that’ll be weird. I don’t need my sister crushing on my best friend.” He scrunches his nose when he says that.

The drop of your heart is inevitable, but you’ve long decided that you don’t live your life to please Jimin anymore, and what you wanted what was what mattered.

“Yeah, yeah,” You wave him off, chucking the last bit of your dishes into the sink before you glance over at the clock.

“Tell mom I’ll be out!” You say, throwing off your apron as you quickly check your appearance when you grab for your car keys.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asks.

You glare at him, slipping on your shoes as quickly as you possibly can before you call out to him, halfway out the door:

“Jin’s!”

“Oh, hey _____.” Jin is surprised when you turn up on his doorstep.

“Hey yourself,” You smile, stepping in after you’ve slipped your shoes off.

“What … what are you doing here?” He asks when the two of you make your way up to his room, after offering a greeting to his parents and brother in the kitchen.

You flop on to the beanbag at the corner of his room and give him a knowing stare.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” You say.

He nods his head, understanding as he glances around his barren room, most of his belongings packed away in his luggage.

“Are you here to say goodbye?” He teases.

You scoff.

“I suppose.” You shrug, “There was supposed to be shortbread too but …”

He laughs, a sound that you’ve come to adore, even as a young girl you always thought Jin was the funniest person ever. When Jimin would argue that he was funnier, you’d always jump to defend Jin’s ability to make you laugh instead.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” He says to you, plopping down to sit across from you.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving.” You sigh, resting your head against the plushness of the beanbag.

Jin snorts.

“Why does it sound like I’m never coming back?” He jokes.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to be in a completely different time-zone. Two, flight tickets get super expensive during the holiday season’s so I doubt you’d be back. And three—you’d probably make cool university friends keep you company so that you wouldn’t wanna’ come back anyways.”

Jin looks at you, lips twitching upwards as you complain.

“You … you thought that through, huh?”

You roll your eyes, chucking a figurine in his direction.

“Just, promise to call?” You whisper.

He smiles softly at you and nods.

“Course’. I’ll ring Jimin up and we can all talk.”

You blink at his choice of words, afraid he’s misunderstood your point.

“I mean … you can call me …” You mutter.

Jin pauses for a moment, before catching himself and chuckling softly under his breath.

“Wouldn’t that be kind of weird …?”

His choice of words only reminds you of Jimin’s tone when he warned you against your apparent (but very present) crush on Jin.

“Why would it be weird?” You tilt your head to the side.

He snorts at your question and you frown because you don’t understand what aspect of it was funny at all.

“Come on, you’re Jimin’s baby sister. If I called you it would seem predatorial, won’t it? I’m literally five years older than you.”

You don’t think he means to sound condescending, but the tone of his words definitely come across that way. You bite your tongue to not say anything rash just yet, as you take a deep breath before you respond.

“We’re friends … and I turn eighteen in June.” You remind him about your birthday coming in two months.

He shrugs.

“Yes but it’s still weird. It would just seem like we’re together, you know?”

His words make you freeze, eyes widening at his implication.

“Would that be such a bad thing …?” You whisper, and the words leave your mouth before you can think twice.

Jin hears you loud and clear, and his eyes widen. You see his body tense and the way he shifts away from you ever-so-slightly that it makes your heart drop.

“_____ … I don’t …” He tries to navigate the topic, but your eyes are bored straight on his face and it flusters him.

“You’re a kid, _____. I don’t date kids.” He snaps, deciding to opt for a defensive approach.

The demeaning term sets you off as you feel anger bubble through your system in bursts of hotness.

“I’m not a fucking kid!” You snap, and his eyes widen at your tone.

“Woah, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” You lash out, “I’m not some dumb or naive child that doesn’t know what’s right or wrong, okay? I’m turning eighteen this year—and I—I thought you were better than this. How could you be so shallow?”

Jin scoffs.

“Shallow? _____,” He deadpans, “You’re just turning eighteen and I’m twenty-three. That’s a whole five-year difference. I don’t think you’re dumb but the thought of dating you right after you turn eighteen is just …” He shudders.

You still.

You didn’t know Jin could hurt you so much with just words, but he did just that. He didn’t need to say much, but you felt every sting that came with his intentions.

“Who said anything about dating?” You ask hoarsely, “I just said to call me.”

Jin softens a little, turning to face you as he sighs.

“_____ … I know you have a crush on me and—”

You’re absolutely mortified when he exposes you out in the open like that, the truth left out for both of you to mull over; but even worse for you as you were the one that was on the plank.

“Why does everyone keep saying that!” You snap, embarrassment crawling up your neck as you avoid his gaze, attempting to deflect.

“—I don’t need you waiting for me when I’m off to university. I’ll be fucking around a lot and you don’t deserve that.”

You gape at him, stunned at his audacity.

“Do you think I’m that pathetic?” You laugh, but there’s no humour in it.

“What? No—”

“Oh, you so do, Kim Seokjin,” You snarl, “Do you think I would wait for you? To live out some stupid fairytale? Yes—I have a crush on you but that’s all there is to it—a fucking crush!” You yell.

His eyes widen, attempting to reach out for you to calm you down, but you shift away.

“I’m not asking for your hand in marriage but just for a fucking phone call. I’m not even asking you to like me back!” You throw your hands into the air.

“But you’re implying it! Why else would I call some girl that I’m only friends with cause' of her brother if I didn’t like her?”

That’s all it takes for silence to overtake the both of you, your mouth stunned shut as your eyes widen at his words.

“What?” You choke.

It’s like Jin is blinded by the need to defend himself, a carnal desire to protect his own heart to make him feel less like a weirdo about the way his best friend’s little sister makes him feel. An odd feeling he never wanted to acknowledge until he acknowledged you.

“I mean exactly what I said, ____,” He spits so vehemently that he doesn’t recognise himself, “All you do is follow us around like some helpless puppy because of what—your crush on me? Get over it because I’ll never like you.”

You freeze, and your heart does too.

“Do you think I willingly talk to you? It’s because of Jimin! You’re his baby sister. What else could I do? Tell you to fuck off?” He snaps.

Your lip trembles but you will yourself not to cry in front of him. Not this boy who thinks of you that way, as someone’s baby sister rather than who you were.

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” You say, oddly calm, but your glassy eyes are what snaps Jin out of it.

“Wait … ____,” He sighs.

“I’ll fuck off myself, all right?” You grit, pushing yourself off the beanbag before you’re storming out of his room.

Jin doesn’t bother chasing after you because he’s mulling over his words, absolutely disgusted with what he said. His parents and brother miss you when you’re out the door crying.

Jimin doesn’t even ask how you were.

“Oh—”

It’s like he’s always there at your most vulnerable moments.

Jin is hovering by the entrance of the changing room awkwardly, his limbs too long for the tight space.

He startles you out of your reminiscent state as you clutch the robe to your chest, acutely aware of the fact that you were in nothing but your bra and underwear underneath it.

You flush, avoiding his eyes, afraid that if you looked at them; all you would remember is what he said to you.

“It’s fine,” You parrot the words he said to you earlier, and quickly pack your belongings, and casual clothes into a bag to make your way out back into your hotel room.

As you brush past him, he stops you with his voice.

“______.”

You freeze, hands still tightly gripping your robe as you feel his eyes rake over your body. You feel both exposed and safe, because once upon a time—Jin was the person that could comfort you the most.

“Yes?” You say in a clipped tone.

You hear him sigh, and you’re about to leave until he interrupts you again.

“How are you?”

You nearly scoff at the mediocre question he poses when the situation between the two of you is anything but. The question seems so out of place when the room is so tense, the ghost of his words here to haunt you both.

“Good.” Is all you respond with before you try to leave.

He grabs you by the elbow, gently, but enough for you to fall against his chest, his arms reaching around to grab you before you fall.

The opening to your robe falls a bit, and his eyes dart away out of respect as you quickly shove it closed with reddened ears.

“What do you want?” You snap.

He winces at your hostility but doesn’t blame you for it.

“I just wanted to catch up with you,” He shrugs.

Now, you scoff. It’s because Jin is still so irrevocably him, that in any other circumstance you’d smile in fondness at his ability to make any situation simple as if there wasn’t history between the two of you.

“Do you now?” You say blandly, “What do you want to know? I’m still Jimin’s baby sister if you were wondering.” You say bitterly.

Jin freezes and sighs when you bring it up; alluding to what he said to you that night years ago.

“Actually … I wanted to apologise,” He confesses.

At that, you still.

Apologise?

Did you need an apology? Wasn’t that what usually fixed conflict?

But no, an apology wasn’t going to fix the years of insecurity that you were left with when he was gone, always nitpicking at your flaws and your identity; wondering if it were really only an extension of your older brother.

Even though you were older, and somewhat more rational—there was still a part of you that wanted to blame Jin for your insecurities, even though you knew that was a war between you and yourself.

“For what? Calling me an extension of my brother or that our friendship was to please Jimin?” You snarl.

He winces and releases the hold he has on your elbow as he rubs his hand across his face.

“I was young and—”

You scoff.

“Young? I thought you were too old back then? Where was this energy ten years ago?”

His eyes narrow at you, and he noticed that you definitely grew a backbone—and a mouth. It was inappropriate still, to think of you any other way right now when he was attempting to apologise to you.

But your beauty was dangerous, and you’ve always been a pretty thing; even when you were growing up. The truth he uttered a decade ago was somewhat the truth still, he felt way too … old to be with you, even if his heart begged for him to keep you close.

“I don’t know why I said the things I did, _____.” He sighs.

You turn around, face contorted with every emotion you’ve been withholding since that fateful night.

“Let me tell you then,” You shove a finger into his chest.

“You’re pathetic,” You spit, hoping to hurt him as much as he’s hurt you.

His eyes widen when you lean in closer.

“You liked me too and you had no fucking clue what to do about it, so you pushed me away the one night I asked for a small favour. You wanted to protect yourself because you’re too in your head thinking that your feelings matter more than anyone else’s, am I right Jin?”

“_______ …”

“Shut up,” You snap.

He does, and he sees the fire in your eyes burn brighter.

“You thought you were the only one that was struggling with their emotions but guesses what—you weren’t,” You whisper, “I was too. And I pushed it aside every moment I spent with you because I knew that it wasn’t my position to decide for you if you liked me or not.”

His hand reaches out to cup your face, something instinctual inside of him told him to do so—wanting to hold you close. To his surprise, you don’t pull away. Your features soften, but you haven’t done your piece just yet.

“But you … you decided for me.” You say softly, “You showed me how much of a piece of shit you were that night.”

Jin’s eyes widen, and the words hurt—but nothing compared to how he felt when you blocked him everywhere, even to go as far to tell Jimin to never mention your name to him.

It sucked for the first two years, but eventually as you went to college and university, you unblocked him. Was it out of spite to let him see how well you were doing? Or the boyfriend that you had?

Maybe.

“_____, I’m sorry.”

Here he was, at thirty-four years old, apologising to you much like a man would—and you can’t help but admire his face when you lean in, heart willing yourself to act rather than your rationale.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” You say.

It seems that you shock him more and more with each second that passes. You weren’t the same girl you were a decade ago, but yet traces of you still lingered in your features, your smile, your voice and your words. It was just you, but older.

“It was for me.” You tell him softly and he nods his head in understanding, cupping your jaw.

“You have no idea how much I regret that night, ______.” He whispers.

You purse your lips.

“What will regret bring you, Jin? A do-over?”

This time he goes silent to observe your face. It’s no longer the same cold stare you’ve been giving him the entire day or the fact that you’ve been ignoring his presence until he found you tucked away in the changing room—a tip-off from Jimin.

“No but … you’re right,” He tells you, “I wanted to protect myself and it was selfish. I can’t change what I said or did but I’m here now and—my heart is still the same.”

“Ten years change people, Jin. I’ve changed and so did you. Maybe you liked the girl I was when I was eighteen but I’m nowhere near in the same mind-space I was back then.” You tell him.

Even though your own heart betrays you by beating rapidly against your chests the closer the holds you, you knew that acting out of your rationale would only end up with you being hurt yet again. You forgave Jin … sure you did. But ten years was far too long to accept the fact he may feel the same.

“I know but I couldn’t forget you, not when I was in university and not when I started working.” He confesses, eyes burning into your own.

You purse your lips and stand your ground. A hand reaches to clasp his, slowly pushing it away from your face as you sigh. You notice the crestfallen expression on his face, but you don’t comment on it.

“I forgave you but that doesn’t mean I forgot what you said to me that night …” You tell him, “I know I was young and that you aren’t responsible for my insecurities but you told me every single thing that I was terrified of.”

His eyes soften but ensuring he kept his distance when you slightly pull away.

“_____—” He sighs.

“No, Jin,” You tell him firmly, “You were the person that mended Jimin and I’s relationship so you knew how much it ruined me to believe that I was nothing but a product of his aspirations. That I had nothing for myself but who my brother was. I struggled so much to find my footing as a teenager and I didn’t even know what I liked and didn’t like it because the lines were so blurred between my own interests and Jimin’s.”

Suddenly, he sees a little glimpse of the girl when you were eighteen peakings through your exterior. You still sounded a little unsure of yourself, words shaking ever so slightly.

“And for the person to tell me that I was more than just Park Jimin’s sister to … to …” You swallow, the words stuck in your throat because as much as forgiving Jin was for him as it was to you, the words still haunt your mind.

“To say that I was just an extension of my brother?” You whisper, “I didn’t know who I was then but I lost who I tried to be when you said that.”

Jin bites his lip, feeling awful. But he knew that he had no right to feel like he was the one that was hurt when his words plagued your mind for years.

“Whatever your feelings are at this moment …” You trail off, clutching your belongings to your chest, ready to leave without another glance, “They’re just your guilt telling you to hold on to something you didn’t get closure with.”

You look over at him once more, a solemn expression on your face.

“This is your closure, Jin.”

You leave without sparing him another glance, and the man stands in the empty changing room feeling a lot different. He thought he’d amended things, but when you leave, it feels as bad as it had been ten years ago.

[theprettiestlamb]

Take Me Away (Helmut Zemo x F!SE Asian!Plus Size! Reader) [PART 1]

Word Count: 1244

Description: The unassuming prison librarian catches Zemo's attention. When he escapes, she could take him back to prison. But does she?

Author's Note: Guess who's finally sliding in with their Daniel Brühl character fic debut? I was going to write all the parts first and post them all together, but I don't even know how long I want this to be and which events from the show I'm including. Hopefully uploading in chapters like this will also motivate me to write more and eventually create a routine (*laugh cries in I write whenever the fuck I feel like it*)

Special thanks to @unlikelymilliner for that post about Zemo's books, because only God knows how long I'd be looking for the title of that Machiavelli book.

Warnings: Mentions of experimentation

(Y/N) didn't think she would ever fall in love with a criminal.

She lived a good deal of her life under the oppressive thumb of a group of them.

A remnant of that past remained in the form of what was essentially a shock collar strapped around her neck as part of one of their sick experiments.

Thankfully, the strip of velvet sent electrical jolts only when an attempt was made to remove the device.

No one knew the story behind it, save for one man.

She quickly took note of him the moment he walked into the library. Several inmates had already come in and left, but none had paid her any mind. She didn't expect them to. They came to get their books and went about their day. But there was one person who left an impression.

He wasn't intimidating like most other inmates. In fact, she was shocked to discover he was in solitary confinement.

It helped immensely that he was easy on the eyes, though she knew better than to let something like that put her at ease. That's how they get you.

Due to his status, he wasn’t allowed around other prisoners. It was just the two of them, plus the guard who stood by while he browsed the non-fiction section.

She greeted the man, just as she would anyone else, and received a small grin in return.

Dorothy, the head librarian, had given (Y/N) the task of updating the book logs since the computer was down the previous day.

The latter logged in with her newly acquired employee ID and got to work inputting names, ISBNs and book titles.

Halfway through the list, she sensed someone in front of her.

When she looked up from the computer screen, the man who came in stood at the other side of the big walnut desk, a book in his hands.

The first thing she saw was a pair of brown eyes that turned gold when the fluorescent lights hit them at a certain angle. The second was a mild-mannered aura, similar to the one she’d seen earlier. Something about his face seemed different this time. It almost reminded her of herself

She wouldn't have picked up on it unless she stared enough at both, which is what she was doing.

Unbeknownst to her, he'd spoken.

"Are you new here?" he inquired again.

His inflection showed no signs of incredulousness, simply curiosity.

Over the course of her working at the library, she would have the displeasure of prisoners telling her off when she politely asked them to keep noise at a minimum or leaving the seating areas in disarray. While she only knew this man for all of two minutes, (Y/N) could see he wasn't going to cause her trouble.

She said, shyly. "Today's my first day."

Now that they were engaged in conversation, she observed a few more things about him: he had short, light brown hair, most of which was straight, save for the curl framing one side of his pale face.

When he smiled, his lips didn't take on the shape of a crescent, as one's normally would. Instead, they formed a soft "w".

He had an accent. From where, she couldn't place. Russia? Germany?

"Ah... well," he placed his book on the countertop and slid it towards her. "It's nice to see a different face, especially a kind one."

Her cheeks got warm, a tinge of pink upon them. Thankfully, her tan complexion made it nearly impossible to detect. Yet, somehow, she thinks he did.

She averted her gaze, and in doing so, she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.

"Let me just log your books real quick," she slipped a chart from the bottom of the four-paper pile on top of the one she was transcribing earlier.

The book was Fortuna ist ein Reissender Fluss by Roger D. Masters. From what she could tell, it was about Leonardo Da Vinci's and Niccolò Machiavelli's quest to turn Florence, Italy into a seaport.

Intellectual, she thought to herself while writing down the book information.

"Have you read Machiavelli?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

For the fraction of a minute, she was torn between lying and looking stupid. If she said yes, he would more than likely ask what she thinks of something she's never even read before. He would see right through her. If she said no, she would out herself as someone who was uneducated, which was true to some extent. Yet another person would see her the way she felt since she left her homeland: a girl from some faraway place barely anyone knew existed, let alone cared about. The only stories about her people she's heard from outsiders were of inhabitants who didn't go to school, only wore rags and lived in filth.

She didn't want someone who has been so decent to her so far turn against her because of these prejudices.

"No, I haven't, actually..." she replied, meekly.

He nodded a bit with a small grin. "What I find intriguing is the relevance it holds today as well as its testament to his era. I think everyone should read them."

"I'll have to look into it," she hummed curiously and turned the form towards him, setting her pen down parallel to it. "I'm always looking for something to read."

"What kind of books do you like?" he asked while writing his name and initials.

He made eye contact with her again when he was finished.

"I've read a bunch of different genres: horror, satire, poetry," her lip perked when his eyes lit up.

She felt more confident and continued, "I'm currently reading a biography on RFK. When I heard how he was sensitive, the 'odd man out' in his family... I knew I had to learn more about him. I think his empathy allowed him to see past the labels society put so much weight on, like social class and race. I like biographies and learning about certain people. Some more well-known than others."

Though she wasn't able to attend a university due to her captivity, she was lucky enough to have a grandparent who was a teacher, instilling a sense of discipline and dedication to learning. Once she got to a mainland, she read constantly. She managed to restart her education and a new life from the ground up.

"Hm," the prisoner hummed, seemingly mulling over her words. "Impressive."

He threw her another smirk, one she found charming.

"T-Thank you," she mirrored the expression, except she was sure she looked like a timid schoolgirl.

What was he doing to me? she asked herself.

The guard at the door caught both their attention.

"Hey," he said sternly to the man and tilted his head towards the hall, hinting that they have to go.

The latter nodded and turned back to the librarian, taking the book in his hands after she'd stamped and closed the back cover.

"Well, it was nice chatting with a fellow bibliophile. I hope to see you again," he glanced at her name tag. "(Y/N)."

"You as well—" she was about to refer to the log he'd signed, but he saved her the trouble.

"Helmut," he smiled again, eyes crinkling a bit and waved his book in farewell before leaving.

She watched the two men leave and read the log.

In the third column, was the name: Helmut Zemo

She swore she knew it from somewhere, but where?

[gyucore]

in the orb

pairing: trapped soul! beomgyu x reader

tags: fluff, angst if you squint, reincarnation au, supernatural au

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: implications of death, light swearing

— you were cleaning your grandmother's attic when you stumble upon an old glass orb that just happened to talk on its own

A cloud of dust scatters around the room after you drop the glass orb on a particularly dusty couch. You've lost it. You've definitely lost it. You're quick to cover your face with your sleeve, fighting back the urge to sneeze. The orb sits still on the couch as it should, a sheet of gray still masking its surface.

This was supposed to be an average weekend. Your grandmother had invited you to her house for some quality time together during your break, and you thought you'd offer to help her clean her mess of an attic, to which she was more than happy to accept. And right now, the sweet old lady was tending to her garden downstairs while you were up here, freaking out.

It's said that people often imagined hearing strange noises when frightened and alone. And you were in a dark and creepy attic at an old person's house. This could just be another case of the common I'm-so-lonely-I'm-starting-to-hear-voices scenario. It's simply wasn't possible for a dusty old orb to start talking when you pick it up. It's just not.

“Hello?” You call out, immediately finding yourself silly for even attempting to communicate with an inanimate object.

The dust in the room eventually settles, and yet still no response. “See, Y/N? You were just hearing things.” That conclusion seemed convincing enough. You felt the need to give yourself a good pat on the shoulder for going along with the sane route.

With that dilemma out of the way, your attention couldn't help but wander back to the large piles of junk occupying nearly every space in the vicinity. One could only hope for your grandmother to clean regularly. “Right, now back to work.”

“What work?”

“Oh, you know. Cleaning.” You answer its question from earlier.

You freeze, eyes wide, a chill running down your spine. There it was again. You weren't sure if you heard it right this time or was just hallucinating, but there was one way to find out.

Silence. You almost called it a day after considering that you were probably just tired and needed some rest.

Half a step outside the door and the voice spoke once more. “Are you still there?”

You pause, brows raised, and back still turned. Somehow, you didn't know if it was safe to face the big ball of dust just yet. “What do you mean? Of course I'm still here. This is my Grandma's house.”

Thank the heavens for modern technology and the invention of smartphones. Speaking of which, you fish for yours in the depths of your pants’ pockets. The voice recorder app should come in handy during times like this. You know, to confirm you're not crazy. With the app on, all you needed to do was have the orb talk again.

“Grandma? Oh! Then you're her grandchild?!”

“Uh, yeah?” The orb apparently knew your grandmother. Strangely enough, that was the least odd tidbit of information you obtained today.

“Her grandchild.. Wow, to think I'm finally meeting you! Or at least your voice?” The orb lets out a giggle and the more you heard it talk, the more human it sounded.

“Sorry, can you excuse me for a minute?”

Never in your life had you thought the day would come where you'd be excusing yourself from a conversation with some sort of decorative object but life has its ways. You were never a stranger to off days anyway.

“Oh, sure, uh, go ahead? I can wait.” The orb swiftly replies. For a second, you could swear something was moving from inside the orb after the light outside the window had hit a clear spot in the crystal.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the room as you dash downstairs, taking your phone out and bringing it closer to your ear, replaying the recording. Sure enough, the voice was caught in the audio loud and clear.

“Holy shit. I'm not crazy.” An exasperated sigh leaves you as you slump back on the wall in disbelief. For a moment, you considered running away and warning your grandma about the cursed object, but part of you was curious enough to disregard the warning signs, and possibly risk your life by going back up there and approaching the thing. You decided to go with the latter.

“Are you back?” The orb asks once you've gotten close enough for it to hear your footsteps.

“Yeah. Just had to do something real quick.”

“I see.”

You wait for the orb to continue but it doesn't. It continues to lie on the couch lifelessly as if it hadn't been speaking to you in the past few minutes.

“Um..” You clear your throat, hoping to get another response

“Oh!" The voice from the orb seemed startled after hearing you talk. “How are you're still there?”

You frown. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well for starters, a talking glass orb isn't quite the public friendly concept you'd think it'd be.” It answers. Only now have you noticed that the orb had a particularly low masculine voice. “People don't usually stick around long enough to find out why I can talk in the first place.”

You blink. “Fair point. Though, I don't see the need for you to ask over and over again when I already said I was back.”

The orb chuckles. “You'd be surprised how many times people have reassured me of their presence only to leave halfway. Plus, I can't really see you right now to actually know you're there.”

“You can't see me?”

“The dust.”

“OH.” Not knowing what came over you, you immediately lunged forward and started wiping the orb with one of the dust rags you had lying around. It didn't take long for the thing to clear up and look like its old glorious self again. “How about now?” You ask, inspecting the orb as you hold it up.

“Better.”

It takes everything in you to resist dropping the orb on the floor when a glowing face of a man appears from the inside, smiling brightly at you. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

The man visibly panics, pressing his face closer to the glass. “Wait no! If you pass out now, I won't have anyone to talk to! I haven't spoken to a single person in decades!”

“But you mentioned my grandma earlier, I thought you—”

“She could never hear me, but I could see and hear her.” The man explains, his voice a little quieter than before.

You bring the orb down, still cupping it in your hands. “How is this possible? Are you a ghost or something? How did you get in there?”

“Wouldn't you like to find out?” He winks, resting his head on his hand. “Take a seat and place me down somewhere soft.”

This seemed ridiculous by all means, but you oblige. The couch should be soft enough, and so you place him down gently while you take a seat on the floor, making yourself comfortable. “You were saying?”

“I—” The man accidentally bumps his head onto the glass as he leans forward, chuckling as he rubs his head gently. “Ow. Sorry. I'm just so happy to finally have someone to talk to. You can't imagine how long it's been. How the world survived without a single soul hearing my heavenly voice for all those years is beyond me.” He cracks a joke and you couldn't help but laugh.

“It's okay.” You say, shifting in your spot. “Go ahead.”

The man nods, the smile slowly fading from his face. “My name is Choi Beomgyu. You can call me whatever you like. I had a friend once, and she was a witch. Oh— not the kind that you hear from stories, no. She was really nice and cared a lot about nature, her friends, and her family. That type of person, you know?”

You nod along, assuring him that you were listening, and he smiles again.

There's just something about his smile that just seemed so happy and endearing. Perhaps it had truly been so long.

“She was this ball of sunshine. And back then I was a pretty different guy. Our personalities might've clashed and we butted heads a few times but somehow we ended up becoming close friends.” A faint smile graces his lips before disappearing as quickly as it came. “But then I got involved with the wrong crowd.”

The statement piques your interest and you draw closer. Beomgyu notices this and tries to talk louder.

“Remember how I said she was a witch unlike the ones in the fairy tales? Well, there were also people who were exactly like those witches. The ones that used their knowledge and abilities for their own nefarious purposes.” Beomgyu continues, his hair slightly covering his face as he looked down. “Let's just say that I got myself in a situation where they ended up hunting me down for my soul.”

“What?”

He frowns. “My friend saw me being chased down the streets one night and helped. We both knew that even when together, we were too weak to go against all of them. They had us cornered in her home, and that's when we knew it was the end for us.”

Beomgyu's voice started to waver as he spoke and you were about to ask him if he was alright, and tell him that it was okay if he didn't continue but the look on his face when your eyes met was enough to tell you that he needed to do this. He must've wanted to talk about this matter for so long, you think.

“She.. pushed me towards her workroom, telling me that she'll keep me safe no matter what. I didn't know what she meant until she cast a spell on me and I passed out. The last thing I heard were her screams. I never found out what happened to her after that, and I can only assume the worst.” He shakes his head, trying to getting himself together in front of his new friend. “Next thing I knew, I was inside her old glass orb. I've been trapped in this thing for years with no escape. No one to talk to— forever regretting how I didn't stop her that time, and regretting getting in the way of those witches in the first place.”

His story nearly brings you to tears, and before you knew it, your hands were reaching out for the orb. “Beomgyu, I..”

“It's alright.” Beomgyu smiles. “In the end, the orb ended up in her younger sister's possessions.”

Your eyes widen. “You mean.. Grandma?”

“That's right.” Beomgyu chuckles. “Though she had never able to see or hear me, unlike you.”

“Oh. That's uh, too bad.” You smile awkwardly, releasing the orb. The two of you sit in silence for a while, both needing a little mental break after that.

Shortly, your attention was brought forth back onto the orb when you hear Beomgyu laugh. You find yourself chuckling along. “Entertained are we, Gyu?”

The laughter stops and his eyes shoot up at you. You hear him mumbling something incoherent before hesitating to speak. “No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head. “It's just.. It's kinda funny. I'm trapped here repenting for my whole life because of what I've done to her, or thinking about what I could've done.. but you know what? To be completely honest, I was starting to forget what she even looked like. But looking at you now, and hearing your voice..”

The idea popped up in your head and you weren't sure if it was even possible to begin with. But then again, you were talking to a soul inside an orb.

“You were easily granted access to the true nature of the orb, and are the first person to have ever done that without running away.” He kids. “Could it be?”

“I wouldn't count on it.” You tell it to him straight, getting up from your spot on the floor and dusting off your jeans. You knew what he was implying and there was no way that you were even considering yourself to be your great aunt's reincarnation no matter how ridiculous the situation already was. “I'll get back to cleaning. Feel free to talk while I do that.” You tell him before rushing to the other side of the attic, avoiding his gaze as much as possible. You'll figure out what to do with him later.

Beomgyu watches you fondly. You had told him to not even count on the thought of you being the one he's been hoping for all these years but it was too late for that now. 

“Entertained are we, Gyu?” Her voice rings in his mind, and he shakes it off.

“How do you always manage to do such amazing things? I'd appreciate it if you'd stop stirring my heart.” Beomgyu's gaze rests upon your busy silhouette, and he smiles in content.

“It's nice meeting you again, Y/N.”

[inactive-luv]

Normal

normal

normal

TW: depression, gender dun dUN DUN

word count: 2216

a/n: i’ve got a lot more gender neutral Spencer Reid fics loading :P

(Spencer's POV)

On a normal day, I would set my alarm for five in the morning and wake up slowly. I'd pour a cup of coffee and make myself some toast. I take a shower and brush my teeth and maybe listen to an audiobook on my way to work. I got this recommendation from Garcia, Ready Player One. I listened to the narrator's voice at a pace 'normal' people would read.

A part of me always felt self-conscious about myself, how I was different compared to everyone else. My mom called me special but that just made things worse. Special still sounds like there was something wrong with me. And that was just my I.Q, later on, I constantly got made fun of for the way I dressed, how I wasn't 'normal' enough. Never 'masculine' enough.

I haven't had a normal day in months. I started to wake up naturally around three am, if I ever slept. My thoughts kept me awake, thinking about the insults and taunts I got. I lay in bed most days. I told Hotch I was sick and stayed in a comatose state for most of the day. I would stare at the ceiling and wonder about myself.

I couldn't do anything. I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't use the bathroom. The thought of having to stand up in front of the toilet. Washing my hands in a men's restroom, everything just made me sick. I hadn't gone to work in a week. It sounds odd but I didn't feel safe there. Work used to be where I could concentrate and use my abilities to my advantage, I watched and analyzed people's emotions for a living but now, it became so hard to think about myself.

I felt exposed in the workplace, at home I felt more comfortable using my own bathroom and I could wear my own clothes. I felt like someone else in the bullpen, someone different. Having to hear my name makes me feel imaginary. I didn't feel real in my body.

Getting out of bed this morning exhausted me. I dragged my feet across the wood and looked down at my sweater. The temperature in my house was always hot, something with the thermostat, but I couldn't stand looking at my own skin. I wore a thick sweater and a robe on top of it, long pajama pants and big socks. I knew I had to take off these clothes if I wanted to go to work today. I really did, I missed my friends, I missed having to do something.

Having a purpose meant a lot to me. I lost sight of what I was meant to do with my life, I would just mope around my apartment without doing anything and I still felt exhausted. I hated being here, I needed to do something. I couldn't just stay here for the rest of my life. I so desperately wanted my normal life again, but I couldn't even think about stepping outside my house.

I hate thinking about having to do normal things. I hated using public restrooms and wearing my normal clothes. Life becomes meaningless if you can't even look at yourself in the mirror.

A while back I put towels over all of my mirrors, this morning I lifted the one in my bedroom. I looked at myself for the first time in a long time. I looked at my eyes, the bags underneath them screamed tired and disgusting. My whole face looked blue and purple. I saw the veins in my neck, and when I touched them I winced.

Taking a deep breath, I started to remove the robe in front of me. I watched the fabric fall to the floor when I felt the ends of my sweater. A burst of energy filled my gut and flooded through my veins, causing me to haphazardly lift the shirt fully over my head and shimmied my pants off. I felt angry. Angry at myself for not being able to do the easiest things. And sad watching my body shake and my skin crawl.

I forced myself to stare at my chest. I stared long and hard at the flat shape and bare skin. I started to run my hand over my abdomen and I could feel my ribs protrude out of my skin. Tears started to fill my eyes when I glazed over my underwear. I could see the outline of my legs and the thought of what was between them made me sick. I felt like throwing up.

I rushed to the bathroom and clutched at the sides of the toilet. I quickly thought about all of the germs and bacteria and immediately lunged away from the seat. I washed my hands five or six times until my skin curled underneath the stream. I splashed the water on my face and began to sob. I ran my hands over my face and my eyes tinged from the tears.

When my hands roamed their way back to my chest I fell to the floor in a mixture of emotions. I felt depressed, gross, I felt cheated in my own flesh and blood. I felt contained to the bottom of my bathroom sink. The tears relaxed and I started to slowly lift myself off of the cold tile.

I wobbled back to my bedroom and tried to open my drawers. I reached for a dotted shirt and slowly buttoned the clothes on myself. With each button, I sniffed and let out a heavy sigh. I wanted to change my underwear but every time I slid my fingers past the waistband I cringed. I couldn't bring myself to look past my abdomen.

I just tried to pull on a pair of work pants without my eyes and slide a brown belt through the loops. I stared at myself in the dresser mirror and reached for another layer to put on over my body, a brown cardigan. I wanted to smile. I tried to force the corners of my lips to move upward but they only drooped a little lower. I swallowed my tongue and went to get my coat.

...

I walked into the lobby and saw people walking throughout the halls, I felt so out of place. I slowly slumped up to the elevator and pressed the button. It was halfway through the workday, a little after lunch. It was raining so hard outside I could hear it through the elevator walls, I heard the pat pat pat just outside the floors and I started to feel thirsty. I hadn't drunk much water in public because I didn't want to have to use a public bathroom. It wasn't a problem until one day I had to be sent to the emergency room.

I got nervous as the elevator doors began to open. I lifted my head and was relieved not to meet anyone as I stepped out. A sore feeling manifesting itself in my throat. I look up to see everyone in the conference room. I barely catch Rossi's eye when I start to walk up to the bullpen. Soon I can feel everyone's eyes on my back when I rest my bag on the edge of my seat.

J.J. walks out of the room to wave me over. I watch her walk back into the room, I look at her heels and her pretty blouse. I think back to what I'm wearing and feel gross. Why do I keep stressing about these sorts of things? Morgan doesn't worry about how he's dressed. Hotch doesn't care about shoes or what he has to wear. Rossi was the one who probably cared the most and even he didn't notice the things I do.

I rush up the stairs noticing how everyone is waiting on me. My pace slows down as I get closer and closer to the threshold of the conference room. "Hey, pretty boy's here!" I clench my jaw at the sound of that nickname. My stomach turns inside out and I think about just running out of the room and heading back home, or anywhere but here. "Why don't you sit down we were just starting." Garcia tries to talk to me in her sweet voice. I missed her so much, I missed everyone.

"No thank you," I whisper. I hadn't spoken words out loud in a long time. I don't talk to myself and I hadn't seen anyone else in days. I clear my throat gaining a sliver of strength from the anger in my gut. "No thank you I," I start stronger before pausing mournfully again, "I think I need to say a few things before I come back, officially. C- can you all please sit down." I choke in my breath and all of their faces turn worried when they look at me.

"Uhm, I know I haven't been here in a while but uhm," I turn my head to the floor, "I want to be able to come back, I do, and I uh," It gets really hard to talk without tearing up. I swallow hard when J.J tries to pat my arm, I don't mean to but I flinch and try to push her hand away. "I can't come back until," I'm afraid I'll start hyperventilating, "God I'm sorry." I move my hands up to my face and wipe away a few tears before swallowing and whispering again. "I can't come back until I figure out what's wrong with me."

"Kid there's nothing wrong with you-" "Yes there is! I- I- I can't sleep! I can't get dressed by myself! I can't even use the bathroom without feeling sick!" The words pool out of my mouth in a harsh tone and J.J. steps back when I flail my arms, "I can't look at myself in the mirror," Tears stream down my cheek when I turn my face around the room. "I need things to be different around here." Even Hotch's expression turns saddened and weak.

"I-" I choke and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. " I hate the name 'pretty boy'." I try to turn my eyes from Derek who's leaned over to see my expression, "I hate being referred to as 'Sir' or 'Mr.'" I bite my quivering top lip and draw my eyes back to the floor. "I hate hearing," I pause and clear my throat again thinking it would help stop my cracking voice, "he did this or it was him who," I sniff looking at Garcia whose eyes are also filled with tears.

"I'm not comfortable," I whisper and Emily gapes her mouth as if to say something then closes it rubbing her nose instead. "I haven't been comfortable for a long time. I don't know what I am anymore." The word 'what' sticks in the air for a minute before J.J. tries to pat my arm again and I let her. She eases in to hold me and I shut my eyes to stop sobbing.

"I- I- need," I start before shaking my head, "I'd like people to treat me differently." I furrow my brow thinking what to say next, "I looked online," I wipe my face again trying to slide J.J away from me, "and all the labels really scared me but uhm," I pause again "I think I'd like to try something I've been pushing down for a while." Rossi nods his head.

I feel awkward standing in front of all of these people, my friends. Years ago I could trust them with my life but now I felt so exposed and broken. I was scared of how they were going to react, I felt like screaming in my stance and running out of the room crying. I muttered out the first words before shaking my head and trying again. "I think," I clear my throat again, "I want to try different," I look at the group, averting my eyes off the floor while the edges of my lips curl into a saddened smile, before whispering the last word, "Pronouns."

I see Emily mutter a small "Oh," and Morgan's face turns confused. I slump into a hunched position and continue to cry softly when people start nodding their heads looking up at me. "Well," Hotch starts and people start to look at him. "I think that what you're asking for is," He pauses looking to the group then back at me.

"Perfectly reasonable and we will do or call you whatever you want" They all nod and mutter incoherent words. "Yes, yes of course we can." Garcia stammers wiping tears from her eyes looking at me from across the room. "What, uhm what would you like?" She asks rubbing her hands together, "To, you know," she shakes her hands before wiping more tears from her face.

I smile for the first time in weeks. It's not a toothy smile or a cheek to cheek grin but, it makes me feel safe knowing I can still do the things I used to. Come into work and smile. I catch my sighs and draw in a deep breath before looking at Garcia, "They/them." And the rest of the team smiles too.

...

[toonformers]

Part 6

Today's topic

Twinsies AU part 5

Ok, so after Centinela had basically destroyed her ability to have feelings, she went on to give her life to science. She went on many expeditions with other Autobots to the Cybetronian colonies, working on different projects. In Velocitron, for example, Centinela created holo roads. Literal holographic roads that could go anywhere and take any shape. Perfect for a colony dependent on racing and speed. She had also developed a way to make energon slightly more stable for transport and currency exchange. In summary, Centinela had become a valuable asset to science and was to be Perceptor's successor when he'd decided to step down from the Ministry of Science.

In Sentinel's perspective, everything plays out like the TFA series, with the only difference of Sentinel being secretly empathetic towards the Jettwins, Jetstorm and Jetfire, because their relationship reminded him of the fact that he's also a twin. However, when asked about family, especially siblings, Sentinel would arrogantly deny having any family and claim he was forged instead of birthed. In his own way, Sentinel was trying to ignore the pain of his past, and would rather hide from his mistakes than face them.

I could go on about how each episode of TFA played out slightly differently because of Sentinel having a sister, but then I'd be writing a book, so I'll just leave those as an ask thing. The important thing is that Sentinel Prime went from being Elite Guard to acting Magnus. Then one day, Optimus Prime and his team of Autobots returned to Cybertron with Megatron and his Decepticons arrested. Leaving this beautiful reaction from Sentinel...

(If anyone finds a better quality pic tag me lol)

And a couple cycles after, Sentinel had called Optimus Prime to speak with him....alone. Sentinel didn't really explain why he wanted to speak with him. In fact, when Optimus was told this, he was confused at how Sentinel appeared so...calm. So this takes place in Fortress Maximus (I hope that's what it's called), in a large room with Sentinel sitting in a desk.

Optimus*enters*

Sentinel: Optimus Prime.

Optimus: You wanted to see me?

Sentinel: Yeah. Please, sit.

Optimus: *sits in front of Sentinel*

Sentinel: Uh, ho-how are you?

Optimus: Oh, fine. Fine. You?

Sentinel: Fine. Uh, your wounds healing okay?

Optimus: Yeah, they're fine.

Sentinel: Cool.

*awkward silence*

Optimus: So...why did you ask for me?

Sentinel: Well, I just wanted to *ahem* congratulate you. You impressed a lot of Autobots by defeating Megatron. Even me. I...honestly didn't think you had it in you.

Optimus: ....Thank you, Sentinel.

Sentinel, sad: And...I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For....Elita and...what happened at the Academy. I should've taken the blame then for what happened. I was just...I.... *sigh*

Optimus: You don't need to explain, Sentinel. I know you were just working very hard to get the life you wanted for Centinela and yourself. Family comes first, after all. I learned that on Earth. *smiles, then sighs* I just wish I could've brought Elita back with us...we never found her. I...don't know if she's online anymore. I'm sorry.

Sentinel, sad: Hehe, you don't need to apologize for anything. You did your best. And as your...acting Magnus, that's good enough for me.

Optimus: *chuckles* Wow. I don't know what hit you in the helm...but you seem a lot less...

Sentinel: Well, *accidentally switches to London accent* Mum and Dad always thought that respect was something that needed to be earned. And you've definitely earned it.

Optimus: *stifled laugh*

Sentinel: What?

Optimus: "Mum and Dad".

Sentinel, nervous: *blushes wildly and switches back to his usual accent* AGH THAT WAS NOTHING! I had a glitch in my voice box! Nothing weird!

Optimus: *chuckles* Of course. I would never think that you've been hiding your real accent.

Sentinel, nervous: Obviously not, hahahahaha...

*awkward silence number 2*

Optimus: So how is Centinela?

Sentinel, nervous: Uh, she's fine. In an...expedition to Junkion now.

Optimus: Sentinel, I spoke with her yesterday. She's not in Junkion, she's been back from her last expedition for many cycles now.

Sentinel: I...

Optimus: Listen, I know it's not my business. But I know you two haven't spoken since....I-I just hope you guys could speak and reconcile.

Sentinel: I...don't know if that's possible. We said some things...I said some things that I shouldn't of said.

*yet ANOTHER awkward silence*

Sentinel: Besides, I think it's for the best we go our separate ways. She'll be in the Ministry of Science soon enough and I'll be...

Optimus: The new Magnus. You must be so proud of yourself. You made it, hehe. Got the highest rank in the Autobot system, next to the Council. Maybe you'll go for that when you retire.

Sentinel: Heh, yeah. Yeah...

Optimus: Well...I should get going then. I hope I could stay on Earth for a bit longer, to help restore the damages done in Detroit. If that's alright with you.

Sentinel: Yes, of course. Stay as long as you need.

Optimus: Heh, alright then. *stands* It was nice speaking to you... *salutes* Commander.

Sentinel: Yes. You too.

Optimus: Take care, Sentinel. *leaves*

Sentinel then looks around at his fame...fortune and status. He then looks down and sighs. The final part will be up soon. Thx for reading up to now. See ya soon n.n

Part 6

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

[cartoondoodlesandsuch]

It’s a weird time right now, so here’s some artwork of Mama Hera and her beloved son together 🥺

Time lapse:

Also I quickly wrote a little thing for some context-ish. Sorry, it’s sad 😔

"Dada!"

At first Hera wasn't sure she'd even heard it, she'd turned her back on her toddler to fix a control panel for a few minutes and left him in his booster seat, she sat up to look at him in confusion. But her little over one year old son wasn't there. For a moment panic surged through her veins as she began glancing around for him, instead widening her eyes at something else. His cabin door was open. Kanan's cabin door, that Hera had locked the night he perished and never unlocked, was wide open. She crept over silently, closing her eyes at the sound of a voice from within, one that sounded all too familiar and all too painful to be real, it was Kanan. He was there. She inhaled, feeling her chest get tight, and opened her eyes slowly, trying to take in everything she could see from the doorway. His bed was unmade, and the sheets thrown everywhere, along with his night clothes crumpled on his pillow, as if he'd left in a rush that morning. There were two-year-old, half full mugs of caf littered around the room, swimming in dust, and it hit her immediately, the room smelt like Kanan. She glanced down at the sound of movement to see their young son playing with the holocron, projecting a recording of Kanan as the only light source.

"Jacie!" She breathed a sigh of relief, crouching down to scoop her son up. "You scared me for a minute."

Jacen let out a protested cry and pointed to the hologram as the message began to replay.

"Jedi Log 26512, although I'm not sure I should really call it that." His voice still hurt, Hera tried to settle her son but every time she began to move away with him he cried again. She hadn't talked about Kanan, not to Jacen directly or even in front of him, she wanted him to be old enough to understand the sacrifice his father made before she lay the shared grief upon his shoulders too. The recording continued. "I think I'm going to ask Hera to marry me." Hera almost dropped Jacen in surprise, feeling her chest get tight and her eyes begin to sting at the sentence. "I know it's not the Jedi way, but I can't hide how I feel about her for any longer. I love her, and once this is over I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I've spoken to her father, and he's given his blessing, and I think it's what my master would want me to do." He paused. "And Hera. If you're watching this, you better still act surprised when I propose to you. Alright? Oh. And don't you dare look in my far left drawer, Alright? Alright." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, it was still long, but it was down in a way that was usually only reserved for her. "Now please stop snooping around my stuff and leave my cabin be." He laughed. "Make sure the kids aren't getting up to anything, I'm sure if you've turned your back for half a second Sabine will have Ezra in a chokehold somewhere." He shook his head at the thought of his grown up kids getting into trouble and smiled. "I think that's it. That's all I have to say for today, I'll record another log when I've asked her. Oh and Hera?"

"Hmm?" She cursed herself for replying to a recording, but it just seemed so natural to do so.

"In case you haven't left yet, and assuming you're planning to say yes, I love you so much dear and I can't wait to marry you. Okay?" He sighed. "Okay."

The recording started again and Hera found herself in shock, Kanan was planning to propose to her, he had it planned out and he never got to do it, and she had a suspicion that she knew exactly what was in that drawer, even if she couldn't bare to look at it. She adjusted the way she was holding Jacen and he laughed a little, gesturing to the hologram.

"Dada!"

"What? What did you just say?"

"Dada! Dadadadadadada!"

"How did you? I've never..." Hera inhaled sharply at her sudden realisation. "The force... can you feel him in here?" It wasn't as if Jacen was going to reply, but his blue eyes swam with understanding as Hera forced back tears, pressing their foreheads together and holding him for just a minute.

"Dada!" Jacen giggled excitedly. "Dada love!"

Hera nodded and felt herself choke up.

"He did, didn't he... Why did I wait so long to tell him?" She sighed and closed her eyes, surprised to feel small arms wrapped around her, but quickly pulling Jacen closer and holding him as tears escaped her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks.

"Love." Jacen mumbled, his mother just nodded and sighed, still holding him tightly.

"It's what keeps us together, and gives us hope, when all seems lost, we have love."

"Dada!"

Hera nodded in understanding and closed her eyes once again, just feeling their son in his presence, and his presence within herself.

"I love you." She muttered aloud, to anyone in the room who might've been listening.