#because like i wish it would just write itself im SICK of writing the first chapter a billion times!!!

[starrysharks]

would a person on hiatus do THIS?!?!?!?@?@?@?@

[inkskinned]

im having a particularly terrible night with urges and imagery that i dont know how to handle. i gave in to some things. held back on some others. but im barely holding on, dear internet stranger.

you do not owe me your time or your words.. but if you could write some hope into existence for me.. i would be unendingly grateful to you.

please. tell me how you do it. tell me how you survive. because im not so sure i can get through the fifteen days it'll take to get to my seventeenth birthday.

could you please give me something to place my faith in? i dont think the universe is watching out for me anymore.

i don't usually answer these, because i am not a professional, and you deserve professional help. when i was 17 i was terrified of the idea of professional help, because my household was extremely unsafe, and made it clear that if i ever chose to get help, i would be punished for it.

i hope this is not your case. i hope that you can call someone, and they can take you where you should go.

but i will give you the advice that i wish i got, when i couldn't get help at 17, when i was so bad that years later, i literally don't-know-how-i-survived it: what you want is peace, not death. your brain is sick. it has romanticized an ending where there are no consequences. where effort isn't necessary. where you can just... forget.

you want peace. that is a normal, human thing to want. maybe it feels more like you want quiet. or just... to take a break for a second.

here is what i will say: to end yourself means you never get to experience what it's like to actually be happy. i thought i knew what it was like, and i was bitter about it. i'd say - i've been happy, it's not worth it, because i didn't know what i was missing. i thought that happiness meant having a partner or having a job or money or a college degree. it sounded like effort. it sounded like something that had to happen to me.

for the first time in my life, just this week, i was able to go to a concert and just-enjoy-it. no liquor, no drugs. just stomping my feet and getting caught up in it. i didn't feel nervous or self-conscious or overwhelmed. i just had a good time. these days have a lot of these firsts for me - it is the first time i can eat cake without crying. it is the first time i can be around an exacto blade without supervision. it is the first time i have too many people to call when i am crying.

i can't tell you where you'll run into happiness, only that, for me, it started once i was out of that fucking house. it started once i figured out where the pain was coming from. once i figured out that i was not possessed, something medical was wrong with me. that i am not stupid or lazy, i have depression and adhd. the first few years were difficult. at 19, during my efforts to recover, i actually got worse by a considerable margin. and then, with time and patience - i got better.

happiness doesn't feel like what you think it will. in movies it's so golden and all-encompassing. but it doesn't fly into your hands when you buy your first car nor does it arrive in the arms of a partner nor does it require passing your classes. happiness came to me on a tuesday in the form of a red-winged blackbird, and i looked at her, and she looked at me, and i said - oh. the whole world suddenly filled itself in with color. like i had been forever-asleep. like every corner of every room was suddenly glistening.

it ended quickly, back then. it just stopped in to check in on me. but it was enough - this thing i had never experienced, but that i knew (logically) could happen. before that, i was only staying because it would make my mom sad if i died. that was my only reason. and then the happiness came, so strange and brilliant and lovely that for years i couldn't even look at it directly.

these days, things are so different. life is so much easier. i don't wish for death because so much of what i have is already at peace. my boss understands when i need a mental health day. people in general are less prone to high school drama. entire communities hold my hand and have my number. i have a car and a dog and a little apartment garden and candles on all available surfaces and today i bought myself a little cake just-to-celebrate-nothing. my body is my own and we are both dancing.

there are so many things i've gotten to taste in the last 10 years. i know, for you, that is an eon, because it's more than half of your life. but if it helps? in the 5 years between 17-21: i filled myself with laughter and love. i got to be a lead in a ballet and got my first tattoo and then my second and pierced my ears the way i'd wanted to (one of them professionally the other over a hot stove with a potato) and i discovered hozier is my favorite singer (i know. he was new back then) and i got my first real job and my first real paycheck and i hadn't ever been seen as smart but then i started to actually treat my adhd as a condition rather than a burden and people started saying you're like the smartest person in the room and my best friend met her husband who i will one day stand next to as maid of honor when he is her groom and i got to help people and make a stupid blog called "inkskinned" and find out that writing is actually my passion and that maybe i'm actually kind of good at it if i just practice and i got to meet my parents' dog (his name is kaiju) and i slept on couches and kissed people and tried new things and learned how to breathe without feeling my chest tighten and that peace is here, on this planet, that peace echoes everywhere, it is in my hair and my homework and my houseplants, it is quiet and divine and mine because i fought for it and i built it and yes i lost hair over it but holy shit the whole world feels like it is shifted through a sunbeam

recently someone asked me if i could go back in time to 6th grade, with all the knowledge i have now, would i? and without thinking, i barked absolutely not. i know i should say it's because i wouldn't want to risk losing any of this stuff - but really it's because i would never survive being a teenager again. it sounds incredibly lame and impossible, fake - but being a teenager was the hardest thing i ever did. i had no voice, no control, only fear and hatred.

but i did survive it. nothing about me is special. nothing about me is stronger than you or better prepared or more efficient. i didn't survive it perfectly. i made a lot of mistakes and lost a lot of friends and harmed myself in ways that i'm still recovering from. but i did survive it. and there is a part of me looking at you in the past and saying - i'm you in the future.

and holy shit. every day. every goddamn day i'm glad we survived to see the rest of it. because you hit 18 and everything changes. like, everything. and holy shit, it is infinitely worth it.

[brandnewhuman]

Imagine it’s been a few years since the reader left Michael ( he never got over them ) and maybe one day he’s stalking one of their friends and overhears them talking to the reader, he tries to get as close as possible to hear every word that they’re saying because he misses them and would do anything to get them back. They’re just chatting and stuff and then the friend asks if the reader ever got over their asshole ex boyfriend ( Michael ) and the reader says that they’re completely over him and in love with some other guy and that they’re engaged. And the reader keeps going on and on about how great this one guy is and how lucky they feel. I feel like he’d go ballistic knowing that someone else gets to experience the love he would do anything to get.

Can you imagine the heartbreak??!! Idk why but I live for making Michael suffer

Cilice

Part 2

☆STARRING☆

Michael Myers

CONTENT

Part 1

Tw: canon violence, depression, abandonment issues, obsessive behaviour, toxic relationships

A/n: some of you are about to get real mad with all this multiple part unfinished business but HEAR ME OUT OKAY? I ALWAYS END UP WRITING TOO MUCH PLUS IM NOT REALLY SURE WHAT DIRECTION I WANT THIS TO TAKE SO GIVE ME TIME OKAY? The part 1 was supposed to be a one shot but how could I say no to Michael angst? Exactly, I can't. Until I figure out how to end this, have fun reading about Michael getting obliterated

SONGS RECOMMENDATIONS:

Francis forever - mitski

Ifhy - Tyler the creator

Girl with one eye - Florence + the machine

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Seeing you after all these years was like seeing you for the first time, he felt finally alive again. He has never been the type to do 'poetic' comparisons, so if he says he felt dead you can be sure he's not exaggerating or talking figuratively. Everyday after you left it felt like being on the verge of dying but not quite enough to actually be gone, he felt every single day passing by but at the same time he felt like he was just witnessing everything from the outside. He was just…existing, his body waiting for you to come back to get out of that limbo sort of state. 

These years have been the most peaceful haddonfield has ever had, since their feared boogeyman seemed to vanish from sight. He was losing his mind, he saw glimpses of you everywhere, with the corner of his eyes. He would catch shapes of your form that disappeared as soon as he tried to look at them fully, almost like even them didn't deemed him worthy of even hallucinating about you. If he tried to eat everything tasted rancid and made him sick, if he tried to go outside the faint sound of your voice coming from everywhere would torment him enough to just not let him even breathe without feeling like he was being crushed. Even sleeping was a torture as everytime he closed his eyes he had to live again the day you left, every emotion and all the pain was burned into his brain and as soon as exhaustion hit his mind the wounds were triggered and he ended up always awaking violently and gasping for air. 

So here there was, lifeless and barely breathing as even moving just to expand his lungs with air was painful. Every day was the same and everything was slow when he wished for it to be fast and fast when he wished for it to be slow. Eventually he had to leave your house too and get back to his own old one. 

Nothing has ever been able to break Michael like this, you really were like a disease but at the same time the cure. His mind started to get lost in an ocean of thoughts, some many that he wasn't even sure if they were all his at some point. Everything was confusing, rage and sadness crushed onto each other making his head throb with pain. After a while he was just downright delusional, his own mind collapsing on itself and denying anything that could add to the trauma. 

He kept his head bowed in shame and utter defeat, whispering softly to every ghost of you around him how sorry he was and even begging to be spared from all of this, praying to God (something he has never done) to let him die already. 

When he was about to give up completely, wandering the streets like even less than a ghost, he caught sight of one of your friends. When this whole thing started he used to follow your obnoxious best friend around, trying to get as much information as possible about your whereabouts without any luck. They seemed to be as clueless of where you went as he was so he stopped following them pretty soon, he didn't even consider killing them to justify the wasted time. He just needed to focus on you, on not losing you in his head too since his hallucinations of you weren't that happy about the idea of him slaughtering your friend as an act of revenge against the pain you were causing. The pain made falter his never ending willpower and relentlessness, something no one has ever been able to do. He just completely gave up on trying to exist, to do anything that made him aware of still living a life where you were not with him anymore. 

So when he spotted your friend seemingly very enthusiastically conversing with whoever they were on call he just kind of ignored them, just focusing on his own small piece of hell. That was until he heard it, your name. He knows it wasn't just his mind making up stuff to prolong his agony, it was really you and he knows because he felt his whole core slightly tremble. They were talking with you, talking about you coming back. They were what made it worthy to stalk your friend once again, what woke up his unrelenting determination which overpowered his lack of energy. It was like being alive again and not simply breathing, everything in his body bloomed just at the mere idea of you being near. He almost couldn't restrain his own anticipation, the torturous waiting way more sweet than the grief made prison he has been living in these years. His own delusional mind telling him how obvious it was that you would eventually come back, you would never leave him like that right? You just wanted to make a point, a punishment if you will. He will be the first to admit he deserved it if that's what you wanted, he has learned and he was ready to show it to you. 

His patience never faltered as he followed your friend around until the hour to meet you finally came. He kept himself hidden in the shadows to observe you from afar, savouring each sensation. Just by looking at you, at your smile and gentle gaze, he felt whole again. He was so glad you finally came back, this time he would make sure to treat you so much better. 

Rage or hate never crossed his mind, he couldn't find it within himself to resent you now that you were so close and looked so happy. That until he actually paid attention to what you were saying

"Yeah no…i- I'm getting married soon, that's why I wanted to meet you. I wanted to tell you personally since I kind of left without any explanation" the last part of the sentence was almost a whisper as you lowered your gaze, torturing your fingers nervously while trying to suppress every memory of him. As time went by and as you got far from Michael your view about him and your infatuation changed drastically. You realise how clouded your life felt when he was in it, at first when you left his oppressive shadow you did feel lost without him. Everything was too bright and happy and you didn't know how to handle it, it took you years of patience from your current partner and hard work to disintoxicate from his love corrupting your mind. When that painful veil was removed you became the happiest and healthiest version of yourself, everything about you flourished under the kindness and care of your lover. Your memories about Michael were not ones you looked with fondness or sadness anymore, now they were things that you actively tried to forget. You would never go back to what he was making out of you. You had to admit that you still felt fairly scared of putting a single foot in haddonfield, you knew how Michael was when he set his mind on someone. At some point your partner begged you to come back so he could meet your parents parents friends ecc.. telling you that years have passed and you couldn't keep giving someone so much power. You trust them so much you didn't argued, somewhere in your mind it made sense the fact that maybe after all this years Michael might have find someone else to torture. Besides, you owe your loved ones an explanation. You couldn't keep running away from your old life and just ignore everything and everyone in your old life, you naively wanted to hope that maybe everything would work in your favour for the second time. 

"Wait, you're engaged?? I thought you and that psycho broke up" your friend questioned, stopping suddenly from walking to look at you. "Nono it's not him! Oh god no, it makes me sick just to think about it" you laugh it off, explaining everything to them and generally catching up with your best friend. 

It makes me sick…the sentence just kept bouncing back and forth inside Michael's mind. He had to steady himself against the wall he was hiding behind cause his legs suddenly started to give up. Clutching his chest as he felt like everything inside him was on fire with brutal pain, he felt the ground beneath his feet disappear. You and your friend were long gone now and all Michael could see and hear was a crowd made of visions of you mocking him and chanting all together the same sentence over and over. After all these years of being basically mentally annihilated he was sure there was nothing more for the pain to crush, but he was wrong. He couldn't really tell what was worse, if feeling like the ghost of a ghost or being so alive and aware of everything going on. How could you possibly do this? You who were the one crying for his love, who swore to the gods you would never see him as everyone else has always done. How come that you're this happy and full of life and he's the one who has been imprisoned in his own pain? No, this couldn't be right. He couldn't even cry, he felt so empty but full of bottled up emotions at the same time that he couldn't manage to bring out the tears. Now more than ever he was glad to have his mask cause he didn't want to live this as himself, that would mean that all those things you said and all the damage he has suffered was fair. If he kept on the mask all of this was still the boogeyman's fault, not Michael's, he could still make up for it. 

Without even realising he was sitting on the ground, his mind demanding of him too many different things at the same time. He just wanted some time with you, just enough time to make it right and get back to how things were. They couldn't just take you away from him, he couldn't even consider letting you go, he loves you so much that it feels just really unfair. No he couldn't allow it, not at least without making it right, you would certainly listen to him once he showed how much he has truly changed. 

[wooahaes]

i just read through the under the sun chapters (and im still working through the individual member chapters) and tell me why i gaslit myself into forgetting that scoups didn’t remember his name in the beginning. i was reading i think day 2? or day 3? and i was like i swear scoups didn’t remember his name right away? but then me to myself was like “you’re crazy why would he lie 🧌” i’m so dumb LMAO. i KNEW he was lying but why lie king??

also let me tell u i love ur writing, i love your stories and the soulmate series is absolutely amazing! keep up the amazing work!! i wish i had an ounce of your creativity fr

-🧃

i was gonna save this ask for later but getting my key album honestly helped brighten my day a lot so i feel 100% good in replying now :0

AAAAAAAA thank you so much!! ur so sweet i'll cry rn :( <3

but in terms of the UtS stuff specifically:

i think identity is a very large theme in UtS itself. in the things we do (mingyu trying to take care of everyone, jihoon's part also dives into this imo), in how we interact with others and the way they present themselves (seungkwan's part).

ur not dumb at all! it was entirely intentional for readers to look at seungcheol and not really realize he's lying about certain things (like remembering his name) at first, because he is supposed to be a trustworthy person.

without getting too much into it (small spoiler for seokmin's part, but it's implied he holds a lot of things in), cheol in UtS takes his leadership position very seriously. it's not to a point where he's stern all the time (he's pouty and playful, too) but he knows that 1. everyone has this united sense of fear of what's to come and 2. as the person who's been there the longest, people do look to him for leadership. sometimes that results in him lying about things like remembering his name (the "why would i forget it if i was alone? i didn't remember anything else, but it's not like i had someone to hide my name from" being his go-to excuse).

like. it might feel like he's reaching in some cases (in hiding certain feelings and facts about his experiences in order to keep up this stronger image--what we know as readers is that the group would gladly accept him if he opened up), but i don't think it'd be unrealistic to want to hide things that make you appear "weaker" in the grand scheme of things. he's a friend and a loved one to all of them, but he's still their leader. he'd rather swallow his own feelings sometimes and not confront them if it means a certain member will be happy (since i've established before that he falls for reader in every route there is--as does chan).

i honestly really enjoy writing cheol's character a lot tbh! without saying too much, i think his part will end up being one of the heavier ones. not in terms of arguments like seungkwan's, but definitely in terms of addressing feelings and being more vulnerable.

(also in advance: tw for sickness in his (and wonwoo's) part. it's nothing major and there is a happy ending, but someone does come down with a fever that's heavily implied to be caused by said supernatural events going on. most of the focus will be on how other character's react rather than the fever itself, but i understand if the topic makes anyone uncomfortable. for anyone who needs more: the most we get is knowing that the person w fever is struggling as a result, although there's no real threat of death on the horizon unless it goes untreated for far too long, and i promise there's only good endings here. i would literally never kill anyone in this series, i promise.)

[astranva]

NOVAAA my birthday is on thursday and im very very upset because louis tomlinson is coming to my country and the concert is literally on my birthday but i cant go because the concert ticket + the ticket to go to that city + hotel are literally so much money. like the concert ticket itself, i can afford but the accommodations... i cant. so its going to be sad sad birthday and im just going to be on twitter 24/7 for any updates i can get on him.

OH also, happy eid mubarak nova!!! i hope you're doing well❤️ i've been missing you and pe universe lately. can you please bless us w a little teeny tiny blurb for pe universe👉🏽👈🏽 (you dont have to i promise) i literally wish that she was real lmao i just re read the whole pe universe masterlist and they brighten up my day🥰. also i may or may not dyed my hair red... like this red (i love her sm) but mine turned out to be more of a purple/dark pink...

but anyways, ilysm nova you have no idea 😤❤️ tysm for being my safe space🫶 i hope you have a great year (the next 6 months at least) and keep doing what you love! i hope you dont get sick of me yet🫣❤️ lots and lots and lots of kithes for you 💖💝😘💞❤️ and a HUGE warm hug for you🫶🥰

-your little 🍓

my little strawberry!

first of all, it’s nearing midnight here so i want to wish you a happy, lovely early birthday, honey 💖💖💖

this is very upsetting, i’m so sorry :( is there anyway you can travel to the city and not stay at a hotel? maybe a hostel or something or be in some sort of a group so that you don’t stay in the city and go back to yours after the show?

in case you won’t be able to see him, i think seeing updates on twitter would make you more upset, no? :( how about you make alternative birthday plans instead maybe? xx

thank you, honey! i miss you and our pe universe 🥹 i’m actually feeling absolutely fantastic right now, so i’m planning on writing you something!

THAT’S SUCH AN AMAZING COLOR!!! did you dye it yourself? (and i know her from tiktok, she’s insanely adorable, it’s literally captivating)

are you kidding? i will never get sick of you! you’re my little strawberry 🥹 love you, sweets! thank you for sharing your thoughts with me 💖💖💖💖

[lifecircus]

letter, memory and time

you, star-t-

when I wrote you that letter I tought it will be the last one

my guts was telling me to be out

letters are important for me I remember the first (silly) thing I wrote to you, it felt like a "this is the only ever moment you can show it" thats why I had let you read I was in nervous an in a blinded deny , but I can see now I was shaking! I was in deny, stupidly denied but when I feel that I have a ONLY A CHANCE in life to do something, I just DO IT! because I belive that thats what life is about. if someone had told me that " dont worry, you will see each other again" probably I will never have left you read that silly thing thanks to god, I know you already forgot the silly thing im talking about.

you can pause time with letters, you can storage feelings in there and also they allow you to jump in time...

jump and stop time

isnt it magical?

-im too weird- too corny??Im really sorry-

im sorry, im not like this because im writing, im like this inside, in my mind and my heart, I wish that you could hear my words just jumping naturally out withouth my meditation of " its this ok in english?

… the last one?

funny. since I meet you I cant stop writing and drawing thinks for you because of you

what did you did to me?

and the prize for beating the record of more free drawings and silly words for someone special is for …the silly puppy so silly… -wiggle-?

maybe you will never understand how special was for me all the things you did for me you jumped it on perfect timming. you spoke out and said things from inside that I was not prepared to hear. and I was needing that and didn't know it you healed me and in a beautiful way, you had mean the world to me the time you spent with me, the way you looked at me when I was only in tears ill always be like "im sorry" about everything, because feeling to people get sick of me its my fear, I hide my feelings, I build a wall and I keep my real me hiding because fears, I also feel that I must pay for everything, because I dont deserve the good things that happened to me, but, well, not because I dont "deserved" it, its just because thats is not supposed how life must be, right? scary… but while most think about this, more I love it? more im in love with the idea of finding the half of me… the half of …uh, nevermind would it be possible? my fantasies are so stupid that sometimes I sleep crying imagining your voice singing to me, telling me that everything will be ok. but then I lealize that your voice with a " its ok" its already recorded in my memory… and also I already heared you sang! maybe my silly fantasies are not too impossible after all…? or maybe im in love of the fantasy itself? nah, im too old to fall on that kind of…

or… maybe im in love about you and I dont want it because you dont want it / feel it… and its ok!. sometimes I feel im in tears inside because sometimes I cant find words in this language … sometimes I feel dumb thinking about my ridiculous pronunciation or bad spellings you helped me to go trought that, I feel that I can do things, I feel that im special, BUT I need to pay por it. and I want to pay you because of it at the same time I cant believe that you are not geting bored about me. every single day im happy thinking that everything was a dream, and I want to keep it in that way, because if you ever decided that you are sick of me, or im too weird/ boring for you, for being friends or… well something else?. it will be easier to me to go trought that if I keep convincing my mind that you was my imagination I already stole your voice there ( sorry about it) …sick of me. it feels too good to be real I want to hear your heart to know how it feels and... heal your heart to make it happy. ok, Ill stop here, just one more thing: thank you

thank you today and forever, for create that special moment in time that I can rewind, pause, feel and stay for some seconds in time.

Thank you!

[arttrampbelle]

Outside of nostalgia bait. What does mk11 really offer story and narrative wise that previous titles didn't already.

Reusing the same thing again and again. Ignoring their own lore. Even if the same game. Retconning retcons with a retcon. Writing themselves into a corner.

Mk11 adds nothing. Gains nothing. It has a net 0 of development.

Not even the things i like about the game could 100% save it for me. But i bought it with my own money. So im gonna run this game into the dirt till im absolutely sick of it or i basically unlock everything.

I mean its fun to play....if you ignore 90% of the story and skip the pre battle dialogue. Which honestly makes it tolerable.

10 and 9. They are better narrative wise. Not by much.

9 was actually good. If you take away raidens dumb moments,erase sindels obnoxious overpowering,and ignoring how shang tsungs fucking whole soul magic works and why he was cursed in the first place. (Legit you cant just tranfer soul magic like that without consequences. Especially from THAT man! Come on!) And my personal gripe is kung lao being killed but more so the way it was handled.

10 wasn't bad either. The revenants were interesting but the way they were handled sucked. But 10 felt like a mugan to me with half the roster i loved gone. It felt not worth playing thats what turned me off from mk for a while. However the gameplay was a blast and an absolute beast. Hella fun.

But fuck cageblade. Sorry. I will die on that hill. Sue me.

But again other than playing it for funsies,and ignoring most of the game outside of playing with friends. Which is what keeps me. It isn't worth much playing for story anymore.

Which is sad because mk i felt was so story driven. But its become a former shadow of itself. All because or corporate meddling. Which is also sad because i loved mortal kombats stories. But sadly they aren't as enjoyable.

Some koncepts aren't bad. The way they are handled is so piss poor tho. And is such juvenile writing that it makes me go.....I've seen some people on here do a better job then these supposed grown men game dev writers. Fr.

No offense. But i really wish some of y'all would be the writers. Not everyone. But some of yall. Because

Older titles while they have their own problems too,were more interesting narrative wise.

Gameplay wise it's always done good and gotten better. But storywise its been lacking. That's why people flock to other titles more.

Nrs is relying on nostalgia bait that movie makers do. And sadly people fall for it.

No im no exception. But at least i was honest why i got mk11 in the first place,which did come from a place of nostalgia. But even then sadly i feel some talent is wasted on a mediocre story. But im gonna tell people like it is. And the blunt honesty. Im not gonna fake to enjoy it 100% just to save face. I'd rather be honest with people. If that makes people mad. Oh well. Life goes on.

Mk hasn't been good from start to finish for me in a loooong time. Narrative wise.

And i doubt it will ever be. If boon and the other two current writers keeps writing the way they do.

However....at the end of the day....i still love playing. And i still love playing with friends and trying to have fun anyways. Despite the bullshit.

But im not gonna get mk12. Unless they ABSOLUTELY wow me. But i doubt they will. I dont want my money nor time wasted with another mk title. Until all the bells n whistles are added and im absolutely sure it will be worth it. Which im not having high hopes sadly.

Anyways. Im done rambling.

[wonlouvre]

hello! i see your requests are open again 😌 can i request jeonghan x reader, enemies to lovers kinda thing maybe where they have the same friends but jeonghan & reader always clash etc etc fluff at the end idk

i know you’ll come up with something amazing as always, do what you want with it 😘🥰💗

balance | y. jh. 

pairing: jeonghan x reader genre: enemies to lovers (kind of), fluff warnings: heights, ski mountain mechanical malfunctions (you know, dangling in the air kind of thing)  word count: 1.5k (i got carried away, im sorry)

💌: thank you so much for requesting!!! this was honestly fun to write although there was little to none banter, i’m so sorry :’( thank you for trusting me! i hope you like it <3 i will try to post at least two drabbles/requests per week :)

To you, Yoon Jeonghan was the type of person that looked like he would trample all over your principles in life. It’s a little dramatic of you but he can’t blame you for thinking so. He’s cocky, annoying and full of shit. The two of you stepped off on the wrong foot when he thought it was funny to pour sparkling water on your instant noodles as a prank during one of the traditional ski trips your group of friends always hold.

Soonyoung introduced him on what was supposed to be the best trip of your life only to get ruined when he made fun of you. Although technically speaking, your cup wasn’t the only victim of his shenanigan because the rest of your friends complained and threw it at the perpetrator before they could even finish eating. But you were hungry and stubborn, so you didn’t let it go. 

Ever since then, despite not confronting him, Jeonghan’s energy and wholebeing never clicked with yours. You barely speak a word to him and you rarely hang out with him, unlike with every single one of your friends. He hasn’t noticed and even if he did, you’re sure he could care less. Which is fine by you. The instant noodle prank is history and now that this year’s ski trip will be your third with him, you have just gotten used to ignoring his existence. 

“Jeonghan’s staring at you,” Seungcheol says, startling you. 

Your eyes throw daggers at him, not because he startled you, but because of what he said. 

The tall man nudges your shoulder with his. “I’m not lying. Give him a glance and then you’ll see.”

To set the record straight, you don’t have a grudge on Jeonghan for who he is. It’s more of what he does that gives a bad impression on you. Aside from the noodle incident, you noticed how much he takes pride in teasing and playing with the gullible younger ones and you hate him for that. It’s a good laugh every once in a while but it can hurt feelings at times and you don’t want that. He also likes to disagree and debate with everyone (you’re just glad you haven’t been a victim yet). When everyone else says yes, he’ll boldly say no. That’s how moronic he is to be friends with. 

Of course you acknowledge his good deeds. Whether you like to admit it or not, Jeonghan is a great friend. He is a beacon of strength among you knowing that he’s one of the oldest in the group. He knows where and when to have fun. He knows when to be there for anyone who needs him. He’s supportive. He’s loving. He’s more than okay. 

You’re just turning a blind eye because you’re still petty. 

It has come to your attention that apparently, Jeonghan has been harboring a crush on you. It’s a stupid rumor and you choose to ignore it because why. Why would he have a crush on you? You try confirming if it’s true by looking at him and observing his actions whenever he’s not paying attention. But to no avail, nothing special stood out.

In fact, it seems like all the staring and observation made you develop a crush on him. Now that’s even more annoying. 

You roll your eyes at Seungcheol’s nonsense and walk away from him to go to Jeongyeon who’s currently checking in everyone to the hotel. You might as well help her register everyone to all the activities you will be participating in. 

“Collect their IDs,” she orders without looking up from the form she’s writing on. “And tell them to fall in line so they can sign the consent form.”

“Told you we should have filled out the online form before getting here,” your complaint doesn’t go unheard by your friend who only glares at you, scaring you to immediately obey her instructions.

“IDs please,” you ask with your hand out and your friends happily complied as they chatted through the waiting time. You walk around to make sure you have everyone’s and as you double check, one last ID was missing. 

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?”

The devil himself, Yoon Jeonghan.

You take a deep deep breath before turning around and face the handsome face you’ve been sick of. Wait, did you just call him handsome?! 

Jeonghan flashes his signature smirk while pulling his wallet out from his pocket, picking one of the many cards inside it to hand to you. His gloveless fingers grazes yours and it concerns you why it made your heart skip a beat. You avoid his gaze and everything else about him and run back to Jeongyeon who’s the one asking for these in the first place. 

You heard his low chuckle and you wish you could wipe off his annoying grin with your fist. 

Moving on from what happened in the early afternoon, the rest of the day was pleasant enough for you and your friends to continue. Everyone had lunch at the local restaurant first before doing the group activities. It’s a good thing none of you are afraid of heights (except for Dokyeom, but he manages). Soonyoung leading everyone to hike the safe side of the snow covered mountain wasn’t a problem for him. 

After the quick mountain hike, you all scattered to have fun and decided to meet up for dinner in the evening. You, Jeongyeon, Dokyeom and much to your dismay, Jeonghan all went up to snowboard. 

The lift was supposed to carry the four of you up to the starting point before your adrenaline descend, but Dokyeom suddenly felt a wave of fear of heights and needed to calm down for a few minutes. He tells you to go on ahead and you did. You just didn’t expect Jeonghan to be accompanying you instead of Jeongyeon. 

You hide your disappointment and bewilderment as you make yourself comfortable. It’s awkward but it doesn’t matter. You’re just going to keep quiet and avoid looking Jeonghan’s way. This ride will probably not be a good ten minutes, right?

Jeonghan holds onto his snowboard while you place yours on the floor. A barrier of some sort to distance yourself from him. Your eyes are glued to your feet, watching them move from side to side. You also distract yourself from admiring the view outside the window, but it’s hard when you can feel his eyes burning holes on the back of your head. 

“Y/N.”

You hate it. You hate it. You hate it. 

Why does your name sound so melodic coming from his mouth?

You turn your head and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. 

But the lift doesn’t let him because it suddenly stops mid-air, echoes of metals clanking and brakes screeching following suit. The abrupt stop causes the lift to shake a little, making you hold onto the metal bars out of fear. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a mechanical malfunction of the lifts and our engineers are repairing it now at this moment. We apologize for the inconvenience and fear that this has caused. We request everyone to remain calm and seated…”

The announcement falls deaf to your ears because all you hear is ringing. You’re not afraid of heights at all. But you have never experienced an incident like this before. You’ve heard and read about it and not all of them ended well. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s voice snaps you out of your dilemma. 

You blink away your tears and clutch your chest to calm your heart that’s beating faster and faster. 

“Y/N?” Jeonghan calls for you again, but this time he’s reaching his hand out. “You’ll be fine. Here, take my hand.”

Jeonghan probably noticed the panic in your eyes. So, after throwing away your doubts outside the window, you carefully move a little closer to him but not beside him as you don’t want to ruin the balance of the lift. You unclench your fist and finally take hold of his waiting hand. 

Jeonghan’s warm palm and genuine smile calms you down. Your heartbeat slows down and your breathing goes back to normal. Your eyebrows furrow in both fear and embarrassment. You question the universe how and why did this have to happen. 

“Hey, don’t cry.”

“I’m not!” 

Jeonghan giggles at your outburst and you don’t know if that’s music to your ears or if it just makes you want to punch his handsome face more. 

“I like you Y/N,” he suddenly confesses and you grimace. 

“I like you too,” you confess back, tightly gripping his hand. “But now is not the time, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan bites back a smile that says he’s in love and just gently caresses your hand. It’s unbelievable how the opportunity arose itself right at this moment, but it was now or never for him. He’d explain how much he likes you in detail later. For now, he’s okay with this. 

“But, later though?”

“Yes, now shut up before I throw you out first.”

[starbuckie]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐭

pairing: modern!remus lupin x reader

words: 2k words

warnings: a small injury, stress, tiniest bit of angst (if you can even call it that), just a whole lot of fluff, also remus’ sweaters alone are a warning (they’re so warm and cozy they’ll give you a heart attack!!)

summary: y/n shouldn’t have promised to make holiday dinner for the whole goddamn friend group.

a/n: my first remus fic!! (YAY, yay) im so happy that i finally chose to do this with my moony, because he’d just be the sweet supportive bf as i fucked up christmas dinner for all out friends. also pls im gonna write a headcanon ab thrifting with modern!remus. it’s been so long since i wrote for the harry potter cinematic/literary universe. but please, please do enjoy, and leave a reblog or comment if you do <33

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

Y/N loved Christmas. She really did, but it was times like these that she wished the damn holiday never existed. Cooking for all the Marauders, especially with their ginormous appetites and their typed out, two page list of dishes they wanted to eat, was a chore itself and she had been friends with them long enough to know that she’d be working in the kitchen for days. Maybe she should’ve started a few hours earlier, because trying to finish fourteen cooked meals in six hours was not faring well for her mental health nor for her body. Two pumpkin pies sat in the oven, a turkey sitting on the counter waiting to go in, with pots of split pea soup slowly boiled on the stove. There were bowls of caesar salad in the fridge, five bowls, to be exact, and platters upon platters of cookies were by the opening of the dining room so her friends could take cookies just in case cooking took much longer than she expected, and by the looks of her roasted parsnips in the clay colander, those cookies would come in handy. The kitchen smelled amazing but Y/N knew for sure she didn’t, feeling the sweat seeping through the thin cotton shirt she wore while cooking. 

“Don’t worry, Mary, I can make it myself! I swear, I can cook fourteen different dishes all by myself, starting just hours before!” She mocked her previous words to one of her closest friends, promising her that Christmas dinner was just Christmas dinner and the tired uni student and mother of an infant had nothing to work about.

She didn’t want to be ungrateful. Y/N was so happy to be making dinner for them, her family that she had found after so many years without one, but it was her first Christmas that she had had with anyone outside of her own self in nearly fifteen years. It had to be absolutely perfect, and in its current state, it was anything but.

“Hello, lovie, things are smelling quite good in here- woah, uh, you’re aware that that pot is boiling over right?” 

Y/N looked up from the potatoes she was peeling to the voice from the door. Remus stood there, dressed cozy in a patterned, forest green jumper and loose fitting jeans that they had bought on a thrifting date the weekend before. His hands were shoved into his pockets, nose and cheeks dusted in a pretty pink blush from the cold of a London winter. 

No matter how long they had been dating, she would never stop admiring Remus. When they first got together she would always call him pretty and gorgeous, and when he asked her why he wasn’t handsome or hot she said, “of course you’re both of those things, pretty, but you’re gorgeous inside and out”. He’d flushed red right after Y/N told him and she knew right then that she’d never get sick of seeing that face.

“Y/N? Darling, the pot is boiling over!” Remus insisted more urgently. Y/N shook herself out of her trance and glanced at the stove, where surely enough, one of the pots full of split pea soup was boiling and spilling over the sides of the metal and into the fire. 

“Shit!” Grabbing a towel she tried to wipe down the pot and in her haste forgot the stove was still on. Tears filled her eyes, spilling out freely as if they had been waiting there for a while. A small whimper left her lips and Remus immediately rushed to turn the fire off and returned to her face her burnt finger. 

“Are you okay, lovebug?” He inspected the burnt skin, his hand cool under her warm flesh. A few sniffles managed to escape Y/N and he pulled her into his arms, cooing, “It’s alright, darling, just let it out. I can tell this isn’t just about the burn ‘cus I’ve seen you take on Sirius in his stupid wrestling matches while have the fuckin’ audacity to smile.” She giggled a little at that and he mirrored her expression, glad he was able to get his girl laughing again. “What’s really bothering you, my little chef?”

Y/N sniffled and laid on the floor, Remus’ arms situated around her hips as he leaned up against the counter. Her mind told her that there was no time to be dawdling, laying on the floor and lazing. But her boyfriend’s arms felt so good around her, warmth radiating off him like he was a damn furnace heater and she found it nearly magical the way he was so warm all the time. 

She could spare herself this one moment with him..

“Remember the last time Mary came over with Dorcas and the kid?” Remus hummed, picturing the small baby girl he’d had to sit with for an hour as the three women caught up on life after highschool. Ever since the crying infant was born, the group had barely had time to get together. Everyone was sort of heading off. “Well, Mary mentioned how Lily said James was getting the whole gang back together for Christmas, and how she was going to have to do so much cooking for the holidays this year because she’s Mary and she always is the best cook and the best host,” Remus agreed with a quick nod, still strumming his fingers up and down his distressed girlfriend’s body gently, “so I stepped in and told her I’d do it so she could have a break for once.”

He nodded and smoothed down her hair as she talked. “And that’s not going so well for you, is it?”

Y/N surveyed the barely half finished Christmas dinner laid out, the soup spilled over the pan and countertop. There were at least several more dishes to be finished, and it was already six o’clock which meant that everyone would be arriving within the next two hours. “No, it’s not,” she admitted with a pout.

“Do you want me to help you, lovie?” Remus knew his girlfriend was stubborn. This was the woman that refused to let him help her with biology homework in year two and would not accept defeat in Monopoly until everyone had counted over their properties and money at least three times. He would not put it past her to insist on finishing the Christmas dinner by herself despite the fact that she had been cooking all day and was clearly exhausted.

But with the smallest voice that he could barely just hear, she asked, “Please?”

So with her little plea of help, that he’d never mention again if he wanted to live, Remus lifted her up by her armpits and together they slowly started to fix up the kitchen. He wiped up the spilled soup while she took the pies out carefully, under his supervision of course, and put the turkey in the oven for three and a half hours. It wouldn’t be perfect timing for the guests, but he reassured Y/N that it would be okay. 

He insisted that she take a shower and get ready for dinner about an hour of starting anew. 

And, oh, she couldn’t be more grateful for her boyfriend as the hot stream of water felt so good on her tired muscles, finally being able to release the tension in her body after hours of working in the kitchen. There was no doubt in her mind that her feet would be sore from standing so long later, but she let herself relax, not thinking about Christmas dinner, or the cooking, or the fact that the new uni semester would start in less than two weeks. Ooh, she still had to schedule her classes for that as well. 

Finally forcing herself from under the hot spray of water, Y/N dried off and prepared herself to look somewhat presentable. The closet in her and Remus’ shared room was large, large enough that it should have held all of their clothes equally, but his sweaters took up a solid half of the space. She couldn’t be that upset though, she’d let the man have as many cashmere sweaters as he wanted, and it didn’t hurt that he looked damn good in them too.

Y/N finally decided on a crushed red velvet skater dress, with bell sleeves covering her forearms in the cold December chill. A dainty gold necklace, a gift from Lily for her birthday the year before, sat on her collarbones, the small jade pendant resting in the center. Slowly, she danced over to the bathroom, humming her favorite Christmas songs as she applied her makeup. Some bold red lip and neutral eyeshadow later, the time showed to be seven-thirty already, and she dashed out of the room in a haste, her heart already racing. She was an hour and a half late to her own damn Christmas get-together.

What she hadn’t been expecting to see however, was every single one of her friends, clapping as she entered the living room, adorning happy smiles and shouting praises at her. Her eyes swept over the small crowd, all ten of her guests, all faces of the ones she loved most, all looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. It felt good, having this family.

She made her way through the group of Marauders and her dear loved ones, faintly making out Mary’s words of gratitude and James’ yelling of how good the food smelled. The little ones, the infants Harry and Mary and Dorcas’ bratty little girl, enjoyed slobbering and teething at the snickerdoodle cookies, to her satisfaction, but a cry of relief nearly left her lips when she saw the dinner table. All the food was finished, laid out under a holiday table runner that stretched along the oak wood. Mashed potatoes, salads, green beans, and bowls of soup set up neatly with utensils next to it. It was a food fantasy straight out of her mum’s cookbook, the aroma of Christmas dinner seeming to fit in perfectly with the dimly lit room.

Remus wrapped an arm around her waist as she admired the setting. He too had cleaned up, looking like he walked out right out of one of her vintage Vogue magazines, with his fluffy chestnut hair combed to the side and gelled there with a formal yet warm-looking tweed suit. To say he was looking sharp was selling it short.

“You look good, lovebug.” Y/N placed a kiss on his lips, trying her hardest to not make it more than chaste when he looked so damn pretty. 

“When did you even have time to change? I didn’t notice you coming into the bedroom.” She noted. 

Remus’ cheeks tinted a light pink and he looked down sheepishly. “I had to ring up Sirius for some nicer clothes, I realized halfway through my search that all I have are jumpers and old jeans.”

Resting her hands on his suit-covered biceps, which she felt suited his arms rather nicely, she squeezed making him blush more furiously, a pinky-red flush taking over his cheeks and nose in pretty contrast to his umber eyes. “Really? I couldn’t even tell.”

He laughed at the sarcastic, teasing tone, pecking her forehead. “I hope I did okay with dinner, I was just following out of your mum’s recipe book.”

His arms encased her frame, his head coming to rest comfortably in the crook of her neck. “Oh, my Moony,” she sighed, “it’s just absolutely perfect. This dinner itself has to be the best Christmas gift ever.”

Well, if she thought this was the best gift, then Remus couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he took out the little black box in his coat pocket.

[literaila]

this little secret of mine

spencer reid x reader

request: Can I request a fic Reid x Reader where the reader has a chronic illness (Im having a flare up an I'm emotional, and having surgery Friday lol) and just kinda anything you feel around that, that the first conversation about it, insecurity whatever you feel, I love angst as well so feel free to load it with that x 

a/n: i’m so sorry if there is any incorrect information. i tried to do my very best with research, but i will admit it might not be as accurate as it seems. if theres anything that needs to be changed just let me know.

warning: mentions of blood, needles, fainting, chronic pain, drugs, shit writing, a little angsty, and fighting

It was supposed to be a secret. 

She hadn't mentioned anything during her interview. 

And she still hadn't. 

Because it was meant to be a secret, one that none of them had to find out about. It was just supposed to be a secret. 

But when everything in your body was aching with every breath, with every blink you made, when you felt like you were on fire at just the thought of standing up, of just getting up, when that was happening, secrets were hard to keep. 

That didn't mean Y/N said anything. 

She felt extremely exhausted. Like fatigue was a stalker following her, refusing to leave her side at any given moment. 

There was no prison you could lock fatigue in. 

Sometimes, she could barely keep her eyes open, could barely think enough to remember to breathe. Sometimes, it was too much. 

She never said anything. 

But there were signs, little things she always did when it was worse when the pain was so unbelievably intense, there were little things she just couldn't keep hidden. 

Like the headaches, the constant medication she was taking for them, the moments where she felt like her head was going to break open because of the stabbing pain hidden behind her eyes. There was the slow way she always got up, the wince on her face when she moved, the slow and deliberate movements she couldn't go without. There was the pain that seemed to last for hours after she simply knocked her knee against her desk. 

And those were just the things she couldn't keep a secret. The signs that didn't go unnoticed. 

Everyone else always seemed to notice. 

There were constant questions of “are you okay?” that came her way and made her wonder if one of them knew if one of them had finally found out, the constant questions that always turned out to be false alarms. 

Sometimes one of them looked at her weird, sometimes she noticed the extra confusion in their gazes when they watched her stand up, or noticed her taking pain medication for the third time that day. 

She was very fortunate all of them seemed to understand that she didn't want to talk about it. She was very lucky that she had such great friends. 

She was very lucky no one knew. 

No one knew. 

It was only getting harder. 

As Y/N felt her joints getting stiffer, felt her headaches become longer, felt the fatigue weighing her down, as she felt her body start to collapse under itself, she knew that the secret would have to end. 

But she didn't want it to. It wasn't fair that she couldn't have this one thing, that she had to deal with this every day. 

It wasn't fair. 

It wasn't fair that she had to hide behind a brave face. 

It wasn't fair that she had to cancel. 

She had to cancel. 

It had been two years. Two insane years of no one knowing, of no one saying anything about the pain that rattled her body, it had been two years with the team, two years getting to know them, two years and she had gotten so close to all of them. 

It had been two years with Spencer. 

They were having their first date. 

They were having their first date.

He had asked her out on a date. 

After two years. Two years of looking across the room for him, of wrapping her arms around his neck when he was sitting at his desk, two years of being surprised by every magic trick he’d pulled out to impress her, two years of getting him coffee and a sweet, two years of sitting next to him on the plane so she could stare at him longer, two years of staring at him hopelessly. 

She’d been in love with him, and his caring way of looking at things, and the knowledge he kept stored up in his brain. She’d been in love with him so for long it felt like a lifetime. But never had she expected him to ask her out on a date, she figured if ever, she would break and ask him. 

But she hadn't. 

And he had.

It had been two years. 

And he’d asked her out on a date. 

“According to relationship experts, you should wait two months before asking someone out,” Spencer said. 

They were sitting in a tiny cafe, both enjoying a cup of coffee. It was their day off, and like most days off, they were spending it together. They’d developed a habit of driving around and going to new places together. 

Y/N was sipping on her coffee thinking about where to go next when Spencer suddenly spoke up. She looked up at him confused. “What?” she asked, her eyes wide, her cup of coffee stilled her in her hand as she waited for him to continue, as he usually did. 

“No- I mean- It's socially acceptable to broach the subject of dating after two months, but actually in most cases, it happens sooner… it really depends on how much time you spend with that person and-” he stopped, pausing his hands that had been gesturing in front of him as he stared at Y/N. 

“What?” she repeated. Spencer stayed silent, his eyes were darting around the room, and he seemed to be lost in thought. After a few moments, Y/N tried again. “Spencer? Why’d you bring this up?” 

Spencer shook his head and looked back into her eyes, seeming to be pulled out of his gaze at her words. 

“I think I waited too long,” he said. 

“Too long for what?” Y/N asked, still not getting the point. 

“To ask you out.” Y/N’s heart jumped at the words, her body exploding at the surprise she felt surge through her. “We spend almost every day together. And it's been two years.” Spencer continued a small smile on his face at the memory. 

Y/N sat there, her coffee still in her hand, staring at him. 

“I’m hoping it's not too late?” Spencer asked, still looking at her with now bright eyes. 

Y/N just stared at him. 

He frowned. 

And she laughed. 

She laughed at him and nodded her head, bringing her coffee up to her lips. 

And he smiled. 

“You’ll go out with me?” he asked, his eyes bright again, dimples popping up on his cheeks. 

And she nodded again. 

And now she was stuck in a daze. Her pain was chipping at her, keeping her from getting off the couch, she barely had the energy to breathe, barely had the energy to do anything except stare at her ceiling. 

She wished it would go away. 

She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want him to know, she didn't want his pity, didn't want to have the conversation, she didn't want any of it. 

She was going to have to cancel. 

She couldn't force herself to get up, which meant it would be impossible for her to get ready, impossible to sit in a restaurant and pretend to smile and pretend that just picking up her fork didn't make her want to scream out in agony. 

She hated this. She hated all of it. 

She felt like crying, like curling up and sobbing until she couldn't hear anything else except for the silence in her mind. She felt like spilling some tears for the miserable state she was in, but she didn't think she could move, she didn't think she had the energy to even close her eyes. 

She had to call him. 

She had to call and tell him, tell him that she couldn't go, that she was sick, that she thought it was the flu, that she had to cancel on their first date, that she couldn't go. 

She wanted to scream. 

It took multiple moments of deep breaths, of reminding herself she could do this, it took extra motivation to grab her phone on the coffee table next to her. She felt useless, felt like she was some fragile thing that wasn't to be bothered with. 

She wanted to text him. Wanted to avoid the sound of his voice, the disappointment she could already hear, she wanted to just get the words out and not have to talk to him. 

She didn't think she could move her fingers enough to text him. 

Her phone rang, and she waited for him to answer. 

The phone clicked and she heard a quiet “Helloo?”

If she didn't feel like she was going to pass out she would’ve laughed. 

“Spencer?” she said, quiet and slow. She felt already out of breath at just the one word. 

“Y/N? Is there something wrong?” 

And at that moment she wanted to tell him, she wanted him to come over and hold her close and cuddle her until she could finally fall asleep. She wanted him to be with her, and she wanted to listen to his voice, and she just wanted to feel better. 

She swallowed and then began to explain. “I don't think I can come… tonight.” Her jaw felt tight at the words, and no matter how hard she was trying she couldn't relax her face. 

“Oh.” 

Just one word. Just enough to make her feel horrible. 

She took a deep breath and urged herself to continue. “I.. don't feel... So good.” 

Just speaking was exhausting her, just breathing was causing her chest to tighten up, she hoped she would fall asleep soon. 

“Are you alright? What's going on?” he asked urgently, and Y/N could hear him stop whatever he was doing in the background. 

What was going on? What could she say to him? 

“I…” she gasped in the air that was pushing on her chest “caught something.” 

Spencer didn't say anything so she continued, “I’m sorry… Spencer.” 

And that was all she could say. Exhaustion took over, and she didn't hear anything else before she closed her eyes. 

At least asleep she wouldn't feel guilty. 

She was still sleeping when Spencer walked into her apartment. 

She hadn't heard him knocking on the door, too deep in her exhaustion to notice anything. 

And Spencer was worried. He was always worried about her, worried she would get hurt, get herself hurt, was always worried that something would happen to her, to the girl he loved. But it was different this time, she hadn't even stayed on the phone long enough to tell him what had happened. 

He couldn't just leave it at that. 

He had to make sure that she was alright, that nothing bad had happened in the time between the silence over the phone and Spencer showing up at her apartment. 

He had knocked, knocked, and called her name, but when she hadn't answered he felt himself become more worried, even sick Y/N could’ve called out to him. So he used the key she’d given him, telling him that someday he might need it, and he walked into her apartment. 

What he hadn't expected was to see her sleeping on the couch, find, but pale with dark circles under her eyes. 

She looked especially drained. 

A tiny part of him was glad that she wasn't just trying to get out of their date, that she didn't just not want to go, but the other part of him was still immensely worried, and his brain immediately started racking up the things that she could be sick with. 

He let her sleep some more. Listening to her labored breathing, watching her chest rise and fall as he thought of which viruses were going around. 

She had sounded terrible on the phone. 

He walked around her small apartment for a little while, thinking about her, worrying about her, just waiting for her to wake up. 

Eventually, he got impatient. She seemed to be getting more restless with every minute that went by, and Spencer couldn't stand the frown on her face, so he gently shook her awake. 

She opened her eyes and immediately closed in on herself. 

Her body was fighting, attacking itself, the different nerves were running all around reminding her of all the pain she was feeling, she was in so much pain. She curled into herself, the pain enclosing on her chest and her back. She was frozen trying to hold herself together. 

Spencer moved away, worried that he had hurt her. 

She was gasping, out of breath now, and Spencer was standing there watching her. She hadn't even noticed him. 

Sleep hadn't helped her, the fatigue still hadn't left her alone, and now her body was on fire as if it was fighting a war against itself. She didn't have anything she could do, there was no medication she had that was strong enough to fight against pain like this. Emotions were clouding her head, and she begged them to go away, she didn't have the energy to fight them off. She could barely move. 

And Spencer was standing next to her shocked, worried, and very confused at the girl in front of him. This seemed way more intense than a virus. 

“Y/N?” he asked softly, bending down on his knees so he was closer to her face. 

And she noticed him. And the pain was collapsing her. 

What would she say what would she say- 

She just wanted to keep her secret. 

She wanted the one secret she had. 

She gasped out. 

Why couldn't she just control this?

“Y/N? What's wrong? What hurts?” Spencer asked, quietly as not to disturb her, but she could hear the concern in his voice, could feel the questions he wanted to ask, could feel buckets of worry pouring out of him. 

The pain was insistent. 

She tried to breathe again, reminded herself of her grounding techniques, of the coping skills she had learned after years of pain. She took deep breaths and tried to remind herself that she was in control of how she reacted. 

It was working. 

Just a little bit. 

She finally had the energy to move from her position, tilting her head so she could look at Spencer, so she could beg for another minute, just one more minute to get herself together. 

She hoped he understood. 

She kept breathing. 

And finally, she could listen. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, his eyes were less worried now, but Y/N knew he wouldn't leave without an answer, a complete answer. 

The secret was out. 

Y/N shook her head. She just shook her head, and she felt so tired, and she could still feel her body stinging as if it was being pricked at, and her head was aching, and her eyes were drooping, and she was so tired. 

All she wanted was to feel good. 

Why couldn't she feel good? 

“What's going on Y/N? This isn't a virus.” He said patiently as he could see the pain on her face. He didn't want to rush her, he didn't want her to be anymore strained than she already looked. But she seemed so sick. He had to do something. 

She just shook her head, squeezing her eyes tight at the pain that came with it. Spencer looked at her and frowned, she clenched her fists together in an effort to try to keep the pain at bay. 

“Okay...okay…” Spencer said, and he went to lift her so that she wouldn't have to move, he picked her up and sat down on the couch with her, he sat down with Y/N who looked so much like glass at that moment Spencer was afraid to hurt her. 

Luckily enough, him moving her hadn't sent another rage-induced war over her body, and she felt herself relax into his shoulder, felt comforted by the warm feel of his body, by the hand rubbing her back, by the smell that was so familiar. 

“Are you ready to talk yet?” Spencer asked. 

Y/N kept her eyes shut, trying to avoid making her headache any worse, but she could still tell that Spencer was frowning again, and while all she wanted to do was relax, she knew that she owed him some sort of explanation. 

“I-” she gasped at the pain that was stuck in her chest, she hadn't expected talking to make her heart start burning. Spencer quickly brought his hand to her cheek, moving her head so she would look at him, so he could make sure she was still okay. She opened her eyes to look at him and the words got caught in her throat. How much more pain could she endure before it was too much? 

“I’m just-” this time it wasn't the pain that stopped her, it was the confession she was about to make. The secret she was going to tell him. “I can't-” 

Spencer rubbed his thumb over her cheek, waiting for her to continue, but when he saw her eyes again he could tell that she couldn't go on, he could see the wall stopping her from saying what she had to say. 

“Y/N. It's okay. It’ll be alright.” he reassured, hoping they were the right words to say. 

“I can't,” she said again, desperate this time. 

“I can tell you in pain…I can see it in your eyes. Nothing bad is going to happen. I only want to help. It's okay Y/N.” 

And then she took a deep breath. 

And she told him. 

***

It was worse this time. 

And better. 

And worse. 

This time, at least Spencer knew what was going on, at least he understood to the extent he could, at least he knew her breaking points. 

But it was worse. It was so much worse. 

She’d been working, working a lot, working a lot more than she ever had before, she’d been working and working hard. It was too much. 

The pain was too much. 

She’d been overdoing it. It was something she’d always tried to avoid, always tried to keep away from her. She’d been warned about it when the pain had started, warned that while some working was okay, even good for her, that too much working could cause more pain, even more, intense pain. 

She’d been warned. 

She hadn't listened though. 

She seemed to be wrapped up in her job, in the hours that she spent saving other people's lives, she seemed to be wrapped up in it all. 

And she was always with Spencer when she wasn't working. She was always enjoying her time with her boyfriend, she was never sleeping when she was with him. 

She’d been over-doing it. 

But she couldn't stop, she couldn't just give it up now, she couldn't just avoid the work because she didn't feel good. She was going to have to deal with the repercussions that came with the decisions she had made. 

She didn't have a choice. 

She never had a choice. 

This was so much worse. 

And it was technically still a secret. 

Even though Spencer had found out two months ago when she’d had a bad flare up and had no other way to explain to him but the truth, the rest of the team hadn't. Y/N had made Spencer promise that he wouldn't say anything to anyone. She didn't want Hotch to find out, she didn't want him to make changes to her job, to keep her behind because of the illness holding her back. She didn't want that. And she didn't want the pity, and the babying that would happen if the others knew. 

It was bad enough that her boyfriend knew. 

He was especially protective of her now. 

No one else knew. 

And that was good, it kept her from worrying too much about it, helped her keep up the distraction of work without one of her teammates asking if she was okay, it helped her stay on topic rather than focusing on the pain. It was a good secret. It was one she wanted to keep as long as she possibly could. 

But it was getting worse. 

It was almost too much. 

Needles were pricking at her joints, pulling at her joints, keeping her tied down wherever she was sitting, they were keeping her still at any given moment. Her back was burning and sore, and she could do anything about it because if she moved every bone in her body would sting with the burn of needles. Her headache had become a constant in her day, and the pain medication she always kept with her had been getting emptier with every day that passed. 

She’d noticed the looks Spencer had been giving her, noticed the furrow in his brows every time she offered to do anything that didn't involve sitting. She ignored them, focused on the job she had committed to.

Every once and a while, Spencer tried to pull her away, tried to get her to settle down, and just talk to him, and every time he tried to do it, every time he looked like he was about to say something to her, she was busy. 

She managed to be busy. 

And now she had to go save a life. 

James Thomas was murdering couples, he was murdering people and the team had to stop him. There was no time for pain. 

Emily had to go in as bait, it was clear from the moment they got there and James was sitting silently at the bar. Emily needed to be a distraction, to lure him away from all those innocent people around him. 

Y/N was covering her. 

She watched with her gun in her pocket on the other side of the bar as Emily approached him, she noticed the slight change in her body language, the flirty smile she had put on, she wasn't worried about Emily. Her friend was smart enough to know what she was doing. 

And Y/N was smart enough to ignore the pain in her hands and her back, she was smart enough to pretend it wasn't there. 

She watched as James looked over at Emily curiously, as he looked her up and down, she watched as Emily moved closer to him, leaning in so close Y/N wondered if she was going to kiss him. She watched as James got more interested in the conversation. 

She looked over to Hotch and saw him nod at her. It was fine, everything was fine, they just had to wait a little bit longer. 

Just a little bit longer. 

Y/N kept her eyes on Emily as James turned completely toward her, she kept her hand on her gun and her other on the drink she didn't care about. She watched as Emily suddenly lost her smile, as she shrunk back only a little, she looked over to Hotch and he gave her the okay. 

It was time to get him out of there. 

She saw him reach into his jacket for something. 

She saw Emily tense her hand. 

And there was a gunshot. 

It surprised Y/N at first, but when she opened her eyes she saw Emily standing up straight staring at James, and she saw James down on the floor, covered in blood. 

She rushed over to them, she quickly patted down James, grabbing the gun from his coat pocket and giving it to the police officer behind her. She patted down the rest of his body, making her he didn't have any more weapons, and she helped him stand up, taking most of his weight in her arms as he couldn't stand with the bullet wound in his chest. 

She looked up at Emily to make sure she was okay. Emily nodded at her, and she walked out with James. 

And then it was silent. And then she could feel the seconds passing by, could feel the messages her nerves were sending to her brain, could feel everything happening inside her body, she could feel everything. 

There was so much pain, there was so much pain, there was so so so so much pain. 

She was being stabbed, over and over, relentlessly, everywhere on her body, she was being stabbed over and over and over, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't understand what was happening because it wasn't supposed to hurt this much, it was never supposed to hurt this much. 

It had never hurt this much. 

She could feel her body freeze and could feel herself take one more step, one more step out the door, just barely out of the building, before she collapsed, dropping James with her and swaying toward the ground. 

She was supposed to have control, it was never supposed to hurt this much, it was never ever supposed to be like this- 

And she could feel herself moan as she hit the ground, could feel her joints scream at the pain of being moved so much, she could feel the blood rushing to her head, and could feel her back still on fire like it had been for the past week. 

She still didn't know why it hurt so much. 

She’d never had a flare-up this bad. 

She wasn't supposed to fall because of the pain. 

It was supposed to be manageable. 

She didn't realize she had screamed until she felt hands on her until someone was shaking her and trying to get her to stand up, she didn't understand. 

She felt someone pick her up. 

And then it was too much, it was finally too much, too much for her mind, for her body, too much everything. 

It was too much. 

And she fainted. 

She woke up in an office. 

It was void of people and smelled distinctly like men's cologne. 

She tried to move her head but the pain was blinding. 

She heard a voice next to her. 

“You’re up,” Spencer said as he closed the door to the office, holding a bottle of water and a bottle of pain meds. 

She looked at him thankfully. 

And then she stretched her jaw so it wasn't as stiff, and asked him why she was there. 

He explained how she had passed out at the scene. He told her how he’d made sure to take her back somewhere she could rest, instead of taking her to the hospital as the rest of the team was insisting. He told her that he hadn't told them anything, just that he needed to make sure she was okay.

He handed her the bottle of water with a frown on his face, while she sipped the water, he opened the bottle of meds and pulled out two pills and handed them to her. 

She smiled at him with her mouth closed, as he watched her take them. 

It was silent for a moment after that before either of them spoke. 

“Spencer-” 

“I don't want you doing that again,” he said firmly. His voice was like stone and his face was unwavering. 

Y/N looked at him shocked. He’d never looked so harsh before, at least not with her, she was surprised by his reaction, but she was even more surprised that when she looked over to the clock it said she had slept for six hours. 

Six hours. 

That explained the bad taste in her mouth. 

“Spencer I don't think that's fair-” she started to say before Spencer interrupted. 

“No Y/N. I won't let you do that to yourself, I don't want you in pain every day.” 

Something about his tone was making her angry. 

“Spencer it was just a flare-up, they happen sometimes. I can't control them,” she said, and now her eyes were hard and staring at him. 

He didn't understand. He could research it for hours, could learn every piece of information there was out there. But he would never know. He would never understand the pain, the strength it took to deal with pain like that every day. He wouldn't understand the sacrifices she had to make sometimes. He just didn't understand. 

“Y/N, this wasn't random. You’ve been working yourself down to the bone. You haven't stopped working in weeks. And it's wearing you down, I can practically see you deteriorating.” His voice got louder with every word that he spoke. 

“Spencer this is my job. I’m not going to stop just because of a little pain.” She said shaking her head, staring at her, her face not breaking. 

Spencer sighed and moved away from the couch she had slept on. He just wanted her to understand, wanted her to see that if the positions were switched she would be insisting he took it easy too. It hurt him to see her in pain, to see her falling apart every time she moved. Why couldn't she understand that? 

“Y/N, it's not a little pain,” he said pacing around the room, no longer looking at her. “I can tell how much it hurts you. I can't imagine how hard it was for you to be out on the scene today.” 

Y/N could feel the concern, the worry, radiating from his body. She could see that he was fighting with himself, trying to figure out something to say. But she wasn't going to budge on this. 

“Spencer, this is my job. This is who I am.” She said every word clearly, but her body was shaking, and her head was aching. 

“Even right now! You’re still in pain. You were asleep for six hours and you’re still in pain! Can't you see that this isn't okay?” he was whispering, yelling, but he was upset with her now. He was upset with her not caring about her own well-being, upset that she thought her job was worth more than her health. 

She closed her eyes tightly, willing the pain to go away before she spoke again. “Spencer, I can't just sit and live around and have nothing and be in pain all day. This job is good for me. I can't just be a brick that never moves because I don't want to feel bad. I refuse to live like that.” she was getting more and more worked up with every word, and she could feel the tears stinging at her eyes, reminding her that she could still cry. She moved her hand in front of her face, not wanting Spencer to look at her. 

Spencer went over to her and sat down next to her. He just stared at her for a moment. Watched as she tried to blink the tears away, as she tried to will them away with just her thoughts. He could tell how much she was fighting, trying not to be vulnerable around him. He could see how much it hurt, how much energy it took just to do that. 

“Y/N,” he said, moving her hand away from her face so that he could see her again. He gently intertwined their fingers, reminding her that he was still there. “You can cry. It's okay to cry,” he said softly, more caring than he had been since she’d woken up. 

And the glass in her eyes broke. It broke open, shattering the windows in her eyes, letting the tears pour from the broken pieces. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried, couldn't remember the last time she’d had enough energy to cry. 

She didn't want Spencer to see. 

But he was sliding on the couch next to her, laying down and pulling her into his chest, he was rocking her back and forth slowly, remembering that she was still in pain, that too much movement would make her joints attack again. He was holding her, letting her cry. 

She felt like a child, but Spencer holding her was helping, it was keeping the pain a distance away from her, too far away from her to hurt her as much as it had been. 

She hadn't cried in so long. 

Spencer rocked with her, as she mumbled words against his chest, as his hands ran through her hair. 

The pain medication seemed to be helping. 

“Y/N… I just want you to give yourself some room to breathe,” he whispered after a couple of minutes after the cracks in her eyes had started to mend themselves. 

She looked up at him and frowned. She didn't want to take a break, she didn't want anyone to know that she needed a break. She didn't need a break. She didn't. 

“I don't want to,” she mumbled childishly, as she looked away from him. She was pouting now, and she knew that she wasn't going to win this battle. 

“It's okay to need a break Y/N. Everyone does. You have an unfair disadvantage. You deserve a break sometimes.” 

She shook her head. 

“It's not fair, “ she said quieter than before. The cracks were breaking again, and she was crying against his chest. He held her tighter. “It's just not fair,” she said again desperately. 

“I know,” he said as he kissed her head, as he made her aware that he was there, that he understood. “I know.” 

And they were curled up together. If anyone had looked in the window they would’ve seen a boy and a girl, both sad, both angry, but together and so desperately connected. They would have seen a boy and a girl, together, and in love. 

Spencer was quiet again, and he listened to Y/N’s stuttered breathing, listened as she took deep breaths, and felt as her chest stopped going up and down frantically. She was finally starting to calm down, to breathe with Spencer, to calm down against his chest. 

She sniffled and looked up at him, her neck hurting, not because of the pain this time. 

“I’ll try to take it easy,” she said, memorizing the way his eyes lit up. 

“You will?” he said excitedly, as she imagined a little kid would. She laughed at him, as he pecked her lips and held her tighter once again. 

“Yes.” she murmured, breathing in his scent, finally relaxed in his arms. 

It was strange that he could make her feel so peaceful in just a couple of minutes. Strange that although she had been crying only a short time ago, that she felt safe with him. 

“I love you.” she finally said. 

And he pulled away from her just a little bit, just so he could look at her face, into her eyes. 

Neither of them had said it before. Both of them had thought it, thought it over and over in the two years they had known each other. Both of them had felt it, pounding in their chest, breaking them down. They’d both thought it, both felt it, but neither of them had said it. 

Spencer was saving it for something special. 

But she’d just said it. 

She loved him. 

She looked up at him, hoping that the look on his face would be good. 

And it was. 

He was smiling, his eyes were lit up in hope and wonder, and the smile lines on his face were breathtaking. He was smiling so wide. 

She blushed and moved her head back down to his chest. He laughed at her, and Spencer wondered if he would ever be able to stop smiling after hearing that. 

“Are you sure that isn't just the drugs?” he asked, hoping he could look back in her eyes. 

And she giggled against him, and then looked up shaking her head. 

He smiled even more, and she copied him. 

“In that case,” he said, kissing her forehead “I love you.” 

“You do?” she asked, still smiling at him, forgetting about the pain, about everything, when she looked in his eyes.  

“I do,” he confirmed, moving his hand to her cheek, stroking her face with his thumb. “I really do.” 

She smiled and forgot everything. She smiled at him, and she sat in the warmth of his words, in the happiness of his smile. 

Maybe Spencer was her pain medication. 

my masterlist here

[guiltycorp]

Playing Genshin for a couple of weeks now and I have some thoughts about Mondstadt, its seeming prosperity, and criminal elements!! Also dunking on Diluc a little bit lol. I'm not even going to touch hilichurls, they're probably the one issue I expect the game to come back to in time! They seem to be an intelligent race that was cursed and so we might get some sad backstory and realize that we've been assholes to them, not 100% sure but hopefully. Other than hilichurls and the Fatui (and yeahhh so fun to make russians into villains, im guessing it's for attracting the american audience or something... at least the characters are interesting enough), there are also Treasure Hoarders, who in the archive are mainly described as workers who lost their jobs or some other manner of poor people who turned to looting and crime out of desperation. And yet the angle is that 'thieving is always morally wrong'. Somebody didn't read Les Mis, I guess! Another note, there seems to be a weird gameplay and story segregation where we as the Traveler do lots of looting and treasure hunting ourselves only to be commended for it. But I digress. My actual point is that interestingly enough those elements of worldbuilding come together pretty well when you look at the city itself!   In Mondstadt it is most difficult to become a small business owner, made all the more obvious when compared to Liyue's wealth of shops, services, and traveling traders (Liyue has its own baggage of problems which tbh seem more serious to me but that's another topic). It's just not the most profitable occupation! Almost everyone we see out on the streets does their own resource supply, production, and service. Naturally, this means that those people don't earn enough to hire their own workers. In turn, that means that there are no jobs to be found in those places. So, where are all the jobs? For that we have the Dawn Winery, the Knights of Favonius, and the option to leave for Springvale to become a hunter or go to a different country altogether. The winery is described as the city's most powerful industry both for local consumption and export, but how does it actually treat its workers? Well, for example there's Patton who accidentally broke a bottle of expensive wine and is now basically an indentured servant to Diluc. He says that even if he worked without any breaks he still would need 48 years to pay off his debt. We can meet his daughter near Venti's statue who has to play by herself because her father is always working. Does that really seem like freedom to you? There's also Guy's father who works at the winery itself and can't afford to rest even when he is heavily sick and old. These are the worst examples for sure but others also have their own smaller problems like Charles who confides in us that he often feels tired and only takes nights off when Diluc is in a mood to tend the bar himself etc.  It is kind of telling that we don't have the option of engaging with their problems and we can't really talk to Diluc about it either. For all that he defends the city each night, he shows no interest in defending his own workers from his business's predatory tactics. To say nothing of the great damage he does to the adult populace of the city, always supplying alcohol and tempting people with deals and sales when there are already too many drunkards even among the named characters. When the opposing tavern (which also only has Diona for a bartender even when her own father has alcohol dependence) chose to present a non-alcoholic beverage during the holiday Angel’s Share doubled down on alcohol. And it doesn't even have snacks? This one bit was probably just for joke purposes, but tbh it's pretty dangerous to drink without any snacks at all, it makes sense why people get so heavily drunk in the first place. Note that Diluc himself doesn’t drink, showing good judgment when it comes to himself. Meanwhile the only person Diluc seemingly has no problem cutting off is Kaeya and it’s not obvious whether that’s out of concern or pettiness. Nobody is cutting off Nimrod who is ruined by his addiction! Now this is probably the core reason why Nimrod turned to crime, and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he and his wife are dependant on Kaeya who at the very least knows to appreciate his informants. Kaeya himself is also a gleeful enabler, by the way, which makes sense considering his uh.. everything. And his upbringing at the Dawn Winery didn’t hurt, no surprise why he’s so keen on wine himself. He might be shrewd and oh so clever when it comes to getting information in taverns, but his story details and voice lines confirm that there actually is a problem even if we don’t know the full scope of it.  Now, the Knights of Favonius? Aside from being corrupt in the past they happen to hire minors (we can read that in their handbook) whom they don't even pay. What's that, free labor for the simplest of tasks? Makes sense why some of the adult knights laze about if all the work gets done by minors or the more focused and accomplished senior knights with Visions. That's a wonky structure for sure. Guy tells us that he became a squire at 16 and still has the boring job of guarding the back gates despite repeatedly showing signs of great dissatisfaction. I wouldn't be surprised if he betrays us later or something, honestly. Maybe Kaeya is preparing him for double agent work, who knows. Right now he has no opportunities for climbing the career ladder to take better care of his sick father, stuck in a pointless job for months. And that's a talented and focused young man! what about regular folk? Well. In the end, regular people have several options. They can give up and overwork themselves while spending nights looking for coins in the wishing fountain to try and scrape enough for their sister’s medicine. They can go to the Adventurers' Guild which has highly dangerous commissions with the most profitable ones taken on by Fischl and other professionals, hardly a dependant job for a regular person. There’s also Church which we know very little about. Likely it's dependant on taxes and donations and it’s the one organization that cares about the orphans of the city (no, keeping Klee in solitary doesn’t count as caring, Knights of Favonius!). There’s Springvale for hunters, farmers and chefs, a difficult lifestyle to maintain when the hunting grounds are in one of the Four Winds’ domains with strangely intelligent wolves.  And then there’s the other more accessible and obvious option! You guessed it, it’s crime!!  And there it is, the reason why there's such a big problem with bandits and overworked people in Mondstadt :)  Honestly after writing all that down, if I were to RP a normal person in Mondstadt I’d try to get into the Treasure Hoarders guild at like 5 years old I think. Better than standing around watching random people kill my pigeons anyway. Tbh this is less of a 'makes you think huh!!' take and more of a commendation towards the writers of the game. They obviously have a more conservative outlook if they're so keen on condemning the thieves who have to steal in order to survive, but the world itself makes a lot of sense. It makes the game a lot of fun to explore.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “rainbow ink” rating: T warnings: soulmate au, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, DRLAMP, creativitwins genre: angst with a happy ending description: Roman just wants his twin to be happy. That’s all he wants. (for anon prompt: "Romantic DRLAMP soulmates? (Platonic creativetwins ofc) and usually when I see that ships it's Virgil or Deciet who doesn't write to his soulmates but how about Roman? He pretends not to have them because Remus already has them as his soulmates and he doesn't want to steal that from him? Angst with a happy ending?")

The first time Roman sees familiar purple ink flowing across his arm, he thinks it's a mistake. It has to be. He's seen that particular shade of purple on Remus's skin too often for it to be a coincidence. It's only further confirmed when, as he hastily yanks his sleeve down, Remus bursts into his room to tell him that he's going to the coffee shop to people watch and be weird. Just like his soulmate- Virgil- said.

Roman swallows hard, the lump in his throat only intensifying at the unabashed happiness shining in his twin's eyes. He doesn't say a word about the damning purple words drizzled across his skin- doesn't even think about writing back- just wishes Remus a safe trip and tries to pretend that the pain in his lungs is from a developing asthma attack.

The second time he sees dark and light blue ink scrawling across his wrist, he thinks someone must be playing a sick joke on him. It's not fair. Logan and Patton are also Remus's soulmates. Is Roman so cursed that he can't have anything to himself?

But the jealousy, teeming just beneath the surface, makes his throat tighten. He holes himself up in his room, pretending to be asleep when Remus bursts in.

"I'm going to wreak havoc at the library," Remus announces, like Roman hasn't already seen their plans scribbled in round letters and blocky script.

"Cool," Roman mumbles into his pillow, trying to sound foggy with sleep, not heartbroken. "Have fun."

"I will," Remus assures him. "And Janus might come, too! Virgil said he's gotta study, though." As if on cue, Roman can almost feel the spiky gold script etch itself into his forearm.

"Just try not to be arrested," Roman says, turning his face so Remus can't see the tears that have started to prick the corners of his eyes.

"No promises!" Remus says cheerfully. As soon as the front door of their shared apartment closes, Roman buries his face in his pillow and cries, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. This goes beyond even the cruelties of fate he could have ever dreamed up. He shares all of Remus's soulmates.

And he refuses to say a word. He's never seen his twin so happy as when he's with them. Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Janus, the latest. Janus is shy, perpetually wearing a hat around them, tugging the brim down as if it can hide the psoriasis that plagues one side of his face. The way his face lights up when he debates philosophy with a ruffled Logan. Patton's sunniness and platters of heart-shaped pancakes. Virgil's purple hair and anxiety and constantly playing emo music. Remus fits like the final piece of the puzzle, discussing the finer points of arson with Janus, listening to cephalopod facts and true crime podcasts with Logan, splattering paint on a canvas with Virgil and splattering cupcake batter with Patton.

Roman would be an outcast puzzle piece, the occasional broken one that comes from another puzzle entirely and can never find a place to fit in, not even along the edges.

Weeks pass. He starts to wear long sleeves and high necks, trying to hide the rainbow-hued proof from his sharp-eyed twin. He withdraws into himself, no matter how much he tries to stop it. What else is he to do? He's an actor, but he's not that good. He doesn't know if anyone could be that good, to know they can never, ever have what they've longed for their entire life, to watch it happening right in front of their eyes to someone who deserves it so, so much, but-

That's it, isn't it? Roman reflects, huddled on his bed and watching Avatar the Last Airbender through for the third time. 'But.' He feels the tingle of more writing on his wrist, but ignores it. It's not for him, after all. It will never be for him. There will be no gentle affirmations written in Patton's light blue script, no blocky exhortations to do his classwork or go to bed earlier from Logan. Virgil won't offer a mix tape and Janus won't cheer him up with snake-themed puns. They think they're friends and they are, but they have no idea they're more than that, and Roman refuses to tell them anything else.

His door bangs back on its hinges, bouncing off the wall, and Roman looks up in irritated alarm, ready to chastise his twin-

When he realizes that not only has Remus come in, he's brought reinforcements. Virgil, Janus, Logan, and Patton stand there next to Remus, and any annoyed words Roman might have said dry up in his throat.

"Something's wrong with you," Remus says, without preamble. "And I wanna know what."

"Nothing," Roman tries to deny, but he knows that no one will believe it. He looks a dilapidated mess, a far cry from his usual put-together self. He doesn't know when he slid down so fast.

"You and I both know that's a lie," Janus murmurs. He's not wearing a hat for once, and his hair is an unruly mass of curls Roman wishes he could run his fingers through. "You've been avoiding Remus-"

"You've been avoiding all of us," Virgil speaks up next. His shoulders are hunched, his fingers occupied with a purple fidget cube. "Did- did we do something wrong?"

"No!" Roman blurts out, before he even knows what he's saying. "No," he repeats. "You- you haven't done anything at all, it's- it's just me." He swallows, painfully aware all of a sudden that his sleeve has slipped down and dark blue writing is now visible.

Dark blue could be anyone, don't draw attention to it-

"Is it your soulmate?" Logan, because of course it's Logan, asks.

"Um," Roman hedges, inelegant. Remus bounds over to the bed, yanking Roman's sleeve up before he can stop him.

"I will be right up," Remus reads, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "But that's-" He looks at his own arm, at Logan's neat handwriting.

"Roman?" Patton asks hesitantly. "Is- is Logan your soulmate, too? Is that why you've been avoiding us?" An easy out, and yet one that will fall apart at the slightest touch. Roman trembles, feeling like a leaf in a vigorous breeze.

"I-" He croaks. "Um- not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly?" Janus asks. Roman flinches, although he knows it's a perfectly reasonable question. If only there was a perfectly reasonable answer.

"Not just Logan," he whispers, staring down into his lap. "It- I'm so sorry, Remus, it's everyone-" The tears that have prickled the corners of his eyes since Remus touched his sleeve spill over, tracing down familiar tracks.

"But why is that a bad thing?" Remus asks, still looking utterly perplexed. "Ro, what's wrong?"

"They're your soulmates," Roman repeats. "And you've been so happy- I don't belong with that-"

"Who says?" Logan questions. "Shouldn't that be up to us to determine?"

"I- I don't know," Roman stammers. "Maybe?"

"I don't have a problem with another soulmate," Patton says, giving Roman an encouraging smile. "I want to get to know you better, Roman. As more than just your friend. Is that okay?"

Roman's eyes dart to Remus's face, suddenly brimming with unconcealed panic. Remus plops down on the bed next to him, wrapping him up in a tight, slightly odd-smelling hug.

"You dumbass," Remus hisses in his ear. "You deserve to be happy, too, you know. I want you to be happy. You being unhappy has made me really unhappy."

"It has?" Roman asks in a tiny voice.

"Of course it has," Remus says, giving him a shove. "You're my twin, asshole, I care about you. I don't care if we share soulmates."

Roman takes a deep breath, then shoves up both sleeves, up to the elbow, revealing a rainbow cacophony littering his lower arms.

"We talk a lot," Virgil observes. Roman lets out a shaky laugh.

"You do," he says. "But I- I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

tag list:   @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @croftergamer @airiervessel @reverendliu @matthindavick @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @bexxbeauty @killjoy-3000 @the-sunshine-dims @sneaky-slytherin @reesiereads @rabbitsartcorner @quackerz-creations  @psodtqueer @awkward-child-of-satan @snek-boii @im-fine-24  

[thefallenchildofthestars]

the perks of being a wallflower

i haven’t read the book yet and i do plan on it, i swear. BUT the movie comes off netflix today so i needed to watch it. my room doesn’t have a DVD player or i wouldn’t have bothered but it’s laright. 

i love charles, he’s really relatable. not super enjoying the social settings, doesn’t participate in class, doesn’t have any friends. perfect. i like patrick too, he’s the popular OH SAM SAM SAM yes there is sam. the samantha. the trio of friends who you would die to have. 

lmao i wish our high school football team was half as decent as theirs, maybe the games would be tolerable. 

slut and the falcon. living room routine.

god i wish i could do high school over again. i wouldn’t talk to anyone i wouldn’t look at anyone i wouldn’t meet anyone i wouldn’t do anything other than my schoolwork. no dating, no friends, just my family. 

i like the dynamic of him and his sister, it reminds me a lot of aubrey and i. 

oh the cliche’s i live for it. come on eileen is a good song too. but standing against the cement wall drinking shitty punch watching complete chaos unfold. 

and the cast of this movie!!! it’s to absolutely die for!!! i mean emma watson, obviously, speaks for itself. paul rudd as the fantastic english teacher support character. logan lerman? icon. erza miller is a really good actor. 

i would love to do weed brownies in someone’s random basement and talk to random girls about giving marching band letterman shit and how its not a sport and how its pointless to give it to them. 

“are you baked?” “like a cake” 

oh im gonna cry at this movie what the hell. i wanna feel noticed and welcomed. 

here we go the iconic scene, where its emma watson in the tunnel on the bed of the truck. where charle falls in love with sam for real this time, where it’s practically a visual tutorial of how to feel weightless and infinite.

i think that if i do end up switching schools (which will be kind of sad because then i don’t get to go to the cadaver lab) i will live my little indie movie fantasy. 

the rocky horror picture show!!! oh it makes me so happyyy. i want a group of friends like this oh my gosh. 

we accept the love we think we deserve.

okay season change, we are drifting into the christmas season. i wish that someone would study for the SAT’s with me,

below average!!!

i love the aggression towards mary elizabeth.

oh the stupid record for sam. and when charlie first puts on the suit!!! i think that is brendon urie on the wall but like i don’t think it fits the vibe. OH MY GOSH SHE GOT HIM A TYPEWRITER. IM GONNA CRYYYYYYYY.

write about us. i will. 

i just want to make sure that the first person who kisses you loves you. 

i love you charlie. i love you too.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. god this movie fills me up with stupid warm hope about life and love and oh my goddd.

the way that his brother and him talks about his mental health is so important. because im the only one who yk has gotten checked into a hospital (twice, thank you very much). who knows what’s going to happen next and im so sick and tired of not living my life but i also can’t live my life the way i want to while im at east because o people and that’s okay its not their fault, it’s mine really. but it would also be my fault if i never tried to give myself better. try to give myself tunnels and weed brownies and mixtapes and secret santas. 

oh the record. oh the record. 

i’m gonna have to sit down and watch the rocky horror picture show to get full context of the references to the movie but i’ve been meaning to watch it anyways. 

sometimes i forget its set in the 90s. the outfits, the language, the everything. oh god mary elizabeth i forgot she liked him since the beginning of the movie and it’s lame because charlie loves sam. oh just mary elizabeth flirting with charlie is bad. like i just never see them together and them making out is weird and OH IT SWITCHES TO SAM. woah boyfriend? 

i like that he still writes letters to his friend. it’s important to me. she really just bullies him for the things that he likes. and he just like wont break up with her.

OH OH OH YOU KNOW PATRICK he reminds me of conan gray!!! and maybe that’s why i like him so much oh my god. 

WOAH CHARLIE REALLY KISSED SAM INSTEAD OF MARY ELIZABETH bruhhh. like he really should have just dumped her like a week or two later. 

im worried about charlie now, because he’s getting worse again and mary elizabeth isn’t helping. and patrick got caught and now everything is going to shit and holy crap everything is rushing back and everything hurts

hearing the story about patricks breakup with his boyfried and then he kissed charlie and he was so okay abuot it because he knew that he was hurting and he just wanted him to be okay. and then everyone started getting accepted into college.

charlie is getting worse and the blackouts are getting worse and im worried that he is going to attempt and its the last day of his freshman year and i don’t want him to.

this gives very unrealisitc ideas about high school and it makes me very upset. but it’s okay. sam is still with her jackass of a boyfriend. OFC HE WAS CHEATING ON HER FUCK. 

nothing hates u.

charlie kissing sam and calling her beautiful and it makes me so happy that he kissed her. i hate that she is crying when she kisses him goodbye and i hate that she has to say goodbye and now he’s going to be alone again because all of his friends are gone. and i cant breathe and hes in the hospital.

this movie broke me. 

we are infinite.

[voorbeees]

[ hi im back with a part 2 bc im a sappy bitch. you can read part one here ]

Jesse makes his way into the kitchen. Early mornings are a thing he's had to get used to and there doesn't seem to be enough coffee in the world to keep him awake. Sure he's typically awake for work, but he schedules appointments around the time he spends recouping from his nightly hobby. After all a business doesn't run itself. He thinks this, accompanied with a move to LA shortly after taking the girl in could play a large part in it.

Shortly after they'd arrived at the new home, Tilly had been thrilled to learn she had her own room and own things. Apparently that was another thing her mother had failed to provide. He wants to ask her what her life was like before, but each time he thinks to broach the subject something makes him shy away from it. Maybe it's for the best. Besides, considering what it was, Jesse's sure he'll feel fire settle in his veins. Not long after that he'd had her enrolled in a small private school. It was never too early to start an education. He's also taken it upon himself to start teaching her ASL. The decision was only made final when she had looked up at him with those puppy dog eyes and said the simple phrase "I wish we could talk better."

And that had been another thing, not once had she acted like he was a stranger. It was actually the opposite. She acted like she'd known him her whole life. Maybe that was good, it made breaking the ice less difficult, at least in his mind.

Now Jesse adjusts his black suit coat, making sure he looks dressed to a T, even if he is just going downstairs. He's always been one to preen, current circumstances haven't changed that at all. Black Oxfords echo off the marble floor and he's instantaneous met with the beaming face of Tilly.

"Jesse! Jesse!" She rushes from her seat at the dining room table and bounces around his legs. Her tiny red curls dance about her shoulders in the process. She wastes no time in asking for her favorite thing, which is only made obvious a split second later when she holds her arms up, waiting to be picked up.

He picks her up with ease, acting like she weighs nothing (and to him she probably does). Her tiny arms wrap around his neck. She's made it clear she enjoys being at his height. Tilly pulls out of the hug a second later and starts flapping a tiny arm in the air. "I've been practicing with my writing!" She beams, little face begging for approval. He'd be cruel to deny her that so Jesse nods and walks the both of them back over to the table. Tilly wiggles herself out of his grasp just enough so she can grab the paper and shove it in his face.

It takes his eye a moment to focus and he has to hold the paper back a bit but sure enough, there in a child's scrappy handwriting is her name repeated at least ten times. Her statement is met with a slow nod of approval.

"Oh!" She finally makes the effort to remove herself from his arms and settle back into her chair. "Maybe I can try writing your name next?" It's a question but he knows what she's implying and its not a moment later that he pulls his phone out. He spends a moment typing on it and then turns it around to face her.

J-E-S-S-E

An amused look settles on his scarred face as he sees her focusing all her attention to write his name. Her tongue pokes out of the left side of her mouth as she finishes the last letter and holds it up, rather proud of herself.

It's messy but it's a cute gesture, so he takes it from her and pins it to the fridge with a magnet. That earns him a squeal of delight. The excitement is short lived as she goes back to her task. Jesse takes the opportunity to finally pour himself a cup of coffee.

' YOU'RE SPENDING THE DAY WITH SPANN. ' He hasn't actually left her alone yet. At least not that she knows. He's made sure to always leave when she's asleep, a caretaker there if something was to arise in his absence. The last thing he wants is for Tilly to think he's abandoning her.

"Why?" She asks as she looks up at him and then goes back to her work.

' I HAVE...BUSINESS. ' If you can consider visiting a plastic surgeon business. It's something he's wanted to do since he first saw what was once his "face". But Spann and the doctors had highly discouraged any reconstruction until the scars were fully healed. All in all it had added up to almost a year's time and it had been nothing but pure hell. Not that he cared what people thought when they saw him, more so he cared what he saw when he looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn't good. Hell, for the first several months he'd busted every mirror within five feet of him, going so far as to have them removed from places of his organization that had them. It'd been a touchy subject and not many could breach it.

Jesse remembers when Tilly saw his face for the first time. It had been the next day and it was on accident. He wasn't planning on showing the mangled part of himself until she seemed comfortable around him. But she had walked in on him in his home office. He'd been sitting at his desk, mask safety packed away in the chrome case. She was supposed to be sleeping and much to his horror when he had looked up, she wasn't. Instead she was standing in the doorway with wide eyes. He'd frozen like a deer in headlights. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Was she scared of him? Fuck, he'd be scared of himself. It's not like he even looked human anymore. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, unmoving until she walked forward. "You got hurt bad, huh?" She hadn't looked at him in disgust, but rather understanding. It was like it was the most common thing to ever happen. Tilly had come up and stood in front of him. "I got hurt one time too." She pulled her hair back to show a small indention on her forehead. "I hit my head and it left a really big spot." Something about that small stupid child gesture had made him laugh. It had demolished the wall he had built, afraid of traumatizing her.

Tilly lays her pencil down and looks up at Jesse now. To only be six she's intuitive. She can tell by the way he grips the handle of the mug and shifts his weight slightly that something is off. Usually its "I have work." Not "business." It's an odd choice of words. So she does what kids do best, she bombards him with fucking questions. "What kind?"

' BUSINESS. '

There's that word again. No matter how hard she tries, she just can't fucking pick out the problem. "Can I come?" Jesse shakes his head 'no.' A tiny frown creases her brow. "Do you have to go to the doctor?" Suddenly she gasps, standing up in her chair. "Are you sick!?"

Jesse's signing and shaking his head 'no' before he can stop himself. It's not hard to tell she's working herself up. Fuck, the last thing he wants right now or at all is her to he upset.

"Are-are you going for your face?" Tilly sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. Of course he fucking is, why else would he go to a god damned doctor. He obviously can't say it like that so he nods. "Bu-but there's nothing wrong with it!" Now she's just being polite, Jesse's sure of it. But the logical part of his brain says no, she's upset because she fucking cares about you you god damned fool. "What i-if I don't know who you are after? Because you lo-ook different?!" At that she breaks into full on hysteria. There's a few other words but Jesse can't make them out. It just all sounds garbled to him.

He considers pulling his phone out again but settles for a different approach. Jesse lowers himself on to one knee a few inches from her perch in the chair. He signs "hush" and "okay". Those are the easiest ones she's able to read but she just shakes her head crying even harder. "It's no-ot okay!" There's a hiccup added after she finishes speaking and for a split second Jesse thinks she's going to suffocate on her own tears. He blinks several times, actually taken aback by just how upset she is over this. This is a good thing not a bad one. He's going to look better but she doesn't want that. Of course he understands the whole "changing of features" process but it's still him. It's not like he's cutting off one of his fucking hands.

" It will be okay. " His hand hovers over her back like it's debating if it should offer comfort or not. Instead the decision is made for him as Tilly wipes at her eyes and sniffles.

"You don't know that!" There's a long pause and for a second Jesse thinks she's going to start bawling again, but she doesn't. Instead she looks up at him and the intensity in that stare almost has him drawing back. There's something in it. Love? Impossible. People don't love him, they tolerate him. Or rather he pays them to tolerate him. Tilly blinks once, then twice and yes, he sees it now. It's a mixture of love and adoration. Something almost foreign to him. "What if something happens?" Her tiny lip quivers. "Who will I have then?"

Fuckfuckfuckfuck. His mind draws a blank. There's no way for him to completely assure something won't happen. Granted people don't usually die from plastic surgeon, though he guesses it's possible. ' IT WON'T. I WILL STILL BE HERE. ' The phone's electronic voice drones out into the air. That's not what he wants to say. Jesse wants to say this huge fucking essay of why she doesn't need to worry but sometimes the simplest answers are the best.

"Promise?"

' YES. '

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

Blinding light sears his brown eye as it flutters open. Are lights always this bright? He doesn't think so. If they are then he's definitely paying someone to dim all the ones in his house. Because Jesus fuck that's a horrible thing to wake up to. Jesse blinks a few times then lets out a sigh. He can't feel his face (which, God willing, with strong as fuck drugs he won't have to until it heals).

It's only after he's been awake for an hour or two that he turns to the door at his right and sees Spann standing there, Tilly's small wide eyed form in front of her. He offers a shakey wave as a greeting. Tilly looks up at Spann, who nods and urges her in then steps back out to answer a call. Jesse thinks she looks even more comical like this. She's acting like he's a porcelain doll that could break at the lightest touch.

Tilly rests her tiny arms on his bedside. "Do you feel better?" Jesse gives her a so-so response with his hand. She takes this as privilege to climb her way up into the bed beside him, her tiny form looking even smaller near him. "Well," her forehead wrinkles, "you don't look different."

Now he is laughing. His shoulders shaking as an indicator. She looks at him before deciding to curl up next to him, her tiny head on his shoulder. "I still love you anyway. Even if you look like a mummy."

Jesse signs. " I love you too, squirt. "

[powerosewaterpuff]

yo ,i remember a post about sort of reverse batfam , between jason and dick , can you do the headcanons about under the red hood please

yes yes yes yes yes and another yes to top it all off. i really really love the idea, and i love under the red hood in general so thank u so much for suggesting this :) like i spent all day brainstorming (probs shoulda been studying but shhhhh) diff headcanons so i’m pretty excited to write it out. also so the timeline with this is a little tight ig?? i really wanted to include tim as bruce’s new sidekick with dick in the middle of his fallout with bruce but again a lil too tight so we’re just gonna have rebellious dick for now and i also haven’t watched death in the family so i’m basing this purely off of under the red hood :) (oh and fuck dick’s hair in the movie oh my god i’m ignoring that it even exists i’m so sorry)

dick is 17 on the cusp of hitting 18 and he’s so fucking sick of batman. every conversation of theirs was leading to a screaming match where each one tries to push their opinion as fact. it was getting messy and soul crushing at this point, and dick hated it. the rising action of it all was dick getting fired from robin, a role he hadn’t even been formally granted by batman yet he felt it in his power to strip him of it. he felt like a pawn in a chess game that gambled his identity and being off of the mind numbing mantra of be better. do better. faster. punch harder. follow orders. be better be better better. and dick was sick of it, so he shed the robin uniform. swallowing it like a bitter pill because he was forced to do so. but nightwing was giving him clarity as of late. the sheer rush, brilliance and exuberance of it all reminded him of when flying was a much simpler task.

however, dick had an annoyingly unwavering loyalty to protecting bruce’s (less batman then bruce. bruce was his father. batman was not. yet nowadays the man himself was forgetting who exactly was the secret identity and who the real person was.) safety and well-being, even if it meant risking another shouting round. so, once dick catches wind of batman’s whereabouts for the night, he decides to help him with Amazo etc., and dick cant help but realize how well they still mesh together when it comes to fighting. the talking part however, did not come naturally anymore. (it used to. it used to be so much easier)

now bruce, is attempting his best to keep dick out of the loop. he knows dick will furious. and dick’s temper is something not many can tame, but bruce would take the risk. he’d rather dick spit on his memory then be dead in his arms (just like jason was, blown to bits when he should’ve been in his room. safe. sleeping after studying for some test not fighting crime with him in the underbelly of Gotham city, or getting dragged along bruce’s self induced fight with the world.)

dick, of course, does not appreciate this and can very easily tell the bruce is trying to get him off the case. dick doesn’t appreciate that in the slightest, and it only makes him want to push more. to fight bruce on every detail and demand he be apart of this because that’s the only way he can get anywhere with him. it was fair to say, that the interrogation with the joker he had to force bruce into taking him too, wasn’t exactly pleasant. he watches, leaning back against the wall as batman has joker by the neck. some part of him hates himself for not being upset about this, like he’s failing his moral code in some way. but he ignores that half, and tries not to feel angry as bruce doesn’t choke joker out like the rat he is. dick wished, in the darkest parts of his mind, that he could burn joker alive, just to watch in vengeful satisfaction that the man who stole his brothers breath wither in pain. ( and watch that fucking laugh die out)

now, the confrontation goes quite similar. except dick is noticing these little things that resemble jason too much it be a coincidence. too much. he knows how jason fights, he’s sparred with him for years and used to spend countless nights in his room trying to emulate his older brothers swift and hard hitting movements in front of his mirror. he always wished he could hit as hard as jason, as dicks strength at the time was his inhuman flexiblity and professional acrobatic skills. now, when he and batman are against the red hood, fuck it doesn’t feel right to dick. it’s all too similar. it wasn’t even the bigger moves that caught his attention but the little moves in stance that screamed at him that it was his brother. he kept shutting the idea down, because if it was possible dick would have made it happen. he would’ve.

dick gets hurt in the aftermath, but bruce must be a fucking comedian if he thinks it’s going to stop him. they get into another argument, bruce talking him down to nothing and dick frustrated that bruce couldn’t see that he’s been doing this for too long to be lectured on it, and that bruce wasn’t atlas. he wasn’t responsible for the world being held up between his two hands. it simmers down to loud silence, like it always does and dick hobbles out. leaning slightly on alfred.

bruce’s hunch is eating him alive. devouring his soul and heart with a satisfying crunch, not sparing crumb. with the revelation that his son could be alive, and the Red Hood of all people, one of the first thoughts that run through his mind is that he could not tell dick. dick could never know, and will never know. it was a hushed promise, one kept inside his chest, locked like all of his unspoken words. it would crush dick, just like it was crushing bruce now. (or maybe it was because if bruce was on the fence about breaking his moral agenda, he knows that dick would hurdle over that fence. he hates that he knows this but he does. dick wears a bleeding heart on his sleeve for his family, especially for jason. this is the same boy that was set on killing zucco all those years ago before jason and him had stopped it.)

(jason’s tasting bitter green as he mulls over why the fuck dick was there. that little idiot was supposed to be at home. safe. not carrying out bruce’s destructive agenda of self proclaimed justice. he didn’t know whether to be mad at bruce or dick. because of course bruce encouraged this shit, eager to force another child soldier into the suit and send him out to die. but God, did it hurt that dick had taken bruce’s side over his even if he didn’t know it was jason. and that stung like a motherfucker. his little brother, whose fond memories were becoming hazed in a cloud of viridecent smoke, had picked bruce’s side. a little part of himself though, shy and hesitant, whispered that he had hurt dick. he had hurt his little brother and he couldn’t justify it no matter how vengeful he was. but he shoved that part aside, trying to ignore its desperate murmurs as they told him that every time he looked at nightwing or whatever the fuck his new name was, he saw his eight year old little brother smiling up at him).

dick knows that bruce thinks he’s covering his tracks well. he is but dick knows bruce, better then bruce thinks he does. so dick is slowly beginning to formulate a hunch of his own, as he spends countless nights rubbing his formerly injured leg and wondering if he really did everything he could’ve to save jason. if there was something he missed. it’s starting to gnaw away at him, until realization settles into his chest after snooping through bruce’s files. then, he’s dashing to get into uniform, giving a breathless and hasty apology to alfred. itsjasonitsjasonitsjasongogogorunrunrun

batman. red hood. bruce. jason. father. son. bruce cannot stomach the vigor in jason’s words and jason’s heart is giving out at the fact that his father won’t do this for him. to end that pathetic excuse of a fucking life, one that’s stolen from so many people, but it still wasn’t up to his moral standards limit. was jason not enough to warrant a sacrifice for the greater good. (was jason’s desperate need to feel safe of that walking nightmare not worthy to overtake any mission)

it happens in a rush. dick is swinging up to the building, the blood pumping through his ears drowning out the screams of his chest. the joker tackles batman as the timer tick tick tick’s away numbingly. suddenly, dick has kicked the joker off and has one hand over his neck while the other smothers itself over his mouth and nose. why didn’t he do this before? why didn’t he kill the thing before? it didn’t even deserve to be called human, so why would any moral standards apply to a human based code. if batman wanted to be the whole representer of pure justice, fine. he could do that. dick wasn’t though. he was going this kill piece of shit then never let go of jason as long as he lived.

suddenly, there’s a pull at the back of dick’s uniform and at the corner of his eye he catches sight of jason being pulled by bruce as well and he’s just about to call out for him when the next thing he knows a blast rockets through his ears and the world goes black.

jason was no where to be found. and bruce ends up having to shove dick into the batmobile before he lunged after the joker, after realizing jason was missing and that the joker was still alive and kicking. the argument that insues? isn’t pretty. in fact it’s their worst. dick had spun around and asked bruce, ‘who are you? batman or bruce? because im not talking to batman, i want to hear why bruce couldn’t do the one thing his son needed! i want to know why bruce thought it was going to be beneficial not to fucking tell me that my brother-Bruce, he’s my brother! that he was alive, because you thought I was gonna pull shit like this? look at that! the exact thing you tried to avoid happened, you know why? because you cannot trust me, and it blew up in your face!’

it goes on. and on. and on. there’s no resolution, or admittance to what happened. bruce simply shuts himself down, stating this wasn’t changing anything. there was a then and a now, one in which bruce harbours enough guilt to crush his shoulders.

there’s a stony resolution in dick’s voice after bruce tells him to get out with more finality to it then he’s ever said it before, when he says, “fine. batman.”

(jason replays it over and over again in his head. the batarang. bruce turning his back to him. the jokers screechy laugh eating at his mind. eruptions of pain from the crowbar. again. again. again. and dick. smothering the joker. a steely resolve in his brothers eyes he never wanted to see but was secretly glad for. it replays like a broken film in his head, cutting and chopping but creaking out the same tune.)

AHHH OK SO i def wanted to do so much more with this ugh but i really wanted it done td so excuse just how unpolished it is, i might go back with some new ideas in it, but i like where i ended it off. this is more or less the ‘detachment’ phase in dick’s relationship with bruce, as hes nearing the end of high school and cannot do this with bruce anymore (oh college is a whooole other ordeal hehe) but i think dick would be better to tim then what he canonically was to jason. (also because dick is totally not on a mission to get his brother back at all costs and fix this family, nope. not at all.), and i think dick just has a lot more anger in this too? and bitterness here ig? just because he had lost his parents, then his brother essentially, and had to deal with being the emotional support to bruce who was falling apart. it’s a heavy load, and dick is absolutely still himself, just when it comes to jason and the joker as well as his family in general, i think he has a lot more anger as well as less control yk? (oh also i have him less in blüdhaven in this lil thing just bc like he’s still in highschool and is in this weird phase with bruce that hes fired etc., but is now yk fully going into the, ‘i’m not speaking to you anymore’ part. SOO THATS IT FOR THAT THANK YALL SO SOOOO MUCH FOR READING UR KINDA ALL THE BEST TBH AND TYSM FOR THE SUGGESTION AGAIN THIS WAS HELLA FUN :)!!

[yeoldontknow]

🖊writerly conversation tag

tagged by @j-pping to do this amazing interview/reflections tag. of course she put together one of the most amazing tags ever because she is brilliant. thank you for tagging me angel! 

questions below the cut!

2020

what was the most challenging part of writing this year?

gosh...i think for me the hardest bit was staying both motivated and inspired. a lot of my inspiration comes from being out in the world. im an introvert but i enjoy being out in the city around the noise and the people and the buildings on my own. the majority of my writing used to be done while riding the subway or on a weekend after id gone out somewhere. a lot of my fics are inspired by locations, and experiences within those locations. being inside for the majority of the year made it hard for me to remember how...people interact with or relate to the spaces around them. so i felt like a lot of the time staying inspired was coming from places within just me that felt inauthentic. i think my writing benefits from my ability to see multiple perspectives, so i felt like a lot of dialogue or writing itself was suffering just coming from me alone. it took a lot of work to ensure that it wasnt like that. 

and then, motivation was also so hard. the internet and the news and everything about america, the planet, the everything was unrelenting and draining. we as people were privy to so much trauma this year, to the collapse and fracture of communities, lives, governments. there were several weeks at the end of may and into june where i just...couldnt. i had no energy for anything. it happened again in november after the election and the windfall of it. energetic tensions were so high it just felt so hard to push out words when things were breaking everywhere. like there were more important things i needed to focus on, and healing was one of them.

what was the most enjoyable/rewarding part of writing this year?

i enjoyed the new community of writers/friends i found by writing for bts again. they challenged me and pushed me to better myself. @jamaisjoons is so inspirational in the way she generates community and encourages relationships between storytellers. doing the summer bucket list pushed me out of my hermit hole for camp nano, and i cranked out molotov cocktail and felt so proud of it. it mattered so much to me because it was the first long thing id written after a period of feeling deceased, and it was so enjoyable because there was a sense of community around it. its easy to forget how essential having a support system in your creative community is.

what piece has left the most impact on you and why?

probably ciperion. words cannot express how proud i am of that story and the direction its going in. i read it back sometimes and i realize that my writing was elevated because of that piece. tbh molotov was responsible for that lift, but ciperion was just a whole other tier. ive also never written anything like that story before and it felt so good exploring the themes of seafaring and pirates. 

what have you learned about yourself through the process of writing in the past year?

that i absolutely am someone who took for granted how inspiring the world is even if i see it as a stressor. but also that writing isnt necessarily about being inspired. its about pushing on when its hard. some of my best pieces came from that kind of push this year. 2020 felt like...a slog through most of it, but i kept pushing myself to write even when i was low and tired. i realized that some of my best writing comes from that push, when its not easy and when its difficult and i have to think harder. thats where i grow. 

how has your writing changed in the past year? how have you grown?

i think im more syntax and detailed focused than i used to be. lately ive been experimenting with making the act of reading feel like pleasure. my favourite books are the ones where i read a sentence, and im moved because it felt nice to read or it felt powerful. the sentence itself had power, not the image it was trying to convey. somehow separate, if that makes sense. theres a lot i need to learn before i could go off comfortably and try to write a book, and this is what ive been trying to master. my attention to detail has grown, and sometimes i think thats a detriment. i think sometimes im too detailed and i dont leave my reader enough power on their own. im still finding that balance, but i think im pleased right now with what im trying to push myself to master.

2021

ignoring your wips for a second, if you had all the time and energy in the world to write your magnum opus piece, what would it be about? why is that the dream story you’d write, all other things controlled for?

ive had two books in my mind forever. one was originally being written as a fanfic in a different fandom before i stopped and realized its too big and so much more important, and is worth being a book id like to write. if i wrote an opus like this it would actually be a book id submit to publishers but ~

- hundreds of years in the future, society has learned how to cure most diseases. for those we cannot, the sick person can be cryogenically frozen for a period of time until a cure is found. there is, however, a limit to the length of time they are frozen. no one has ever been frozen for over 100 years, and the main character is a scientist embarking on the experiment to do just that. it is, effectively, time travel. the main character is rash, selfish, sarcastic - not a very nice person; invested in their work and science and little else. they freeze themselves and wake up in the future. during their time in rehab they have to confront the horror theyve made of themselves, the horror people have made of the future, learn to be vulnerable. they end up falling in love with another scientist etc etc. theres so much more to this story and the world is enormous. one day ill revisit it

- a fictional play on orpheus in the underworld where a female main character’s brother was sold by their mother to the goddess of the underworld (helena instead of hades) for eternal youth. the gods all live in a hotel (the concept of this main thing is being used in elysian fields but its not remotely the same) after they were removed from the heavens. main character (ophelia) must gather several totems from the gods to prove her worth and survive her trip into the underworld to rescue him. id like to not focus on a woman finding romance, and instead a woman finding herself, her strength, her devotion to family, her power, and connecting with her history.

how do you want to grow in your writing this year?

this year id like to find balance, like i mentioned above, with my need for detail and my trust in my readers. the balance between detail and dialogue. i want to try to condense my writing again so not everything is a goddamn series. the ideas i have are huge and thats great but i need to remember how to parse things again, while still maintaining impact.

what’s one thing you’d wish to see in the fan-writing community this year?

i want more community, in general. as a multi fan, i see pockets in the kpop fandom where it exists and im well and truly aware that its recently become incredibly hard to foster on the exo side. ill just say that. maybe i dont witness it or its happening amongst blogs i havent found or have not found me. i want to see less dialogue about ‘popular blogs,’ whatever that means; less focus on notes; less worries about statistics. i want people to remember that fandom is not about numbers, and the moment you make it about that is the moment you stop having fun. i want less fear from writers regarding sharing work they read and liked, less shame around it. i want to see more vocal communication for the things people like and don’t like, more engagement and more interaction. the concept of popular blogs is so ridiculous to me, because no one has any control over the metrics. no one has control over who follows them or reads their work except the person doing the actual reading. i want people to realize they hold so much power - a person with 10k notes has as much power as a person with 2 notes because sharing is what fosters community. i want this fandom to remember to share again.

name one new thing you want to try doing in your writing this year.

gosh i really love postmodernism in writing. think like mark z danielewski, who plays with the shapes of words or the act of holding a book - the physicality of it. id like to maybe write a choose your own adventure, or do something that encompasses multiple platforms. or even, more importantly, finish as still as sound and time runner. those are more reasonable goals. time runner actually is done, i just need to stop pressuring myself about it and edit it to get it up. asas, too, is largely done i just need to get my ass together. i have so many other ideas no one has ever seen i need to finish what ive started. thats a real goal.

tagging: @yehet-me-up @jamaisjoons @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @luffles424 @yoonia @shadowsremedy @chillingkoo @onherwings @inkedtae @ninibears-erigom @imdifferentshadesofpurple @readyplayerhobi @ditzymax @sugaurora @snackhobi @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @xjoonchildx @johobi and anyone else who wants to do this. as always please only do so if comfortable or you want to!