#conversation with my 12 year old self

[the--last-great-american-dynasty]

sometimes i like to imagine 12 year old me meeting 20 year old me

12 year old me who said that she would never dye her hair, get more piercings, wear crop tops, or wear makeup, staring at 20 year old me with pink hair, mascara, 10 piercings, and a crop top that shows my belly button piercing: 😮

20 year old me: yeah, and you’re gay dumbass

[backpackingspace]

Periodically I'll remember that my comfort characters are alec lightwood, obi wan kenobi, and xie lian and then I have shove that back into the box /immediately/

[missmeringuemorgue]

Hello and Welcome!

In this PAC reading we will find out what you can expect for the upcoming 3 months. For those who want to listen to this PAC in audio format, be sure to check this out!🥰

My best wishes and onto the reading…

Group 1

1. I see the beach, so if you don’t live near a beach you could go on a vacation. Now if you do live near a beach, the beach could symbolise renewal: renewal of emotions, renewal of old bonds, renewal of the self and the world around you.

2. A celebration: you might be giving a gift to someone or you could be receiving a gift. Now this gift could be a physical item but it can also be metaphorical, like you receiving a raise at work or bettering your grades at school, for example.

3. The theme of travel keeps popping up and I believe wherever you will travel, it will be significant or something significant will happen that will change the course of events. Like this travel could open new doors for you.

4. These will the months of discoveries, whether it be about yourself, about another or about the world. You could find out about something you wanted an answer to or you could be uncovering a secret of some sort.

5. I see pets, so some of you could be getting a pet or strengthening a bond with the pet that you already have.

6. Cars might be significant. Like you could be getting a car or bettering the car you already have. It could also signify you travelling as I mentioned earlier.

7. I get this sense of serenity. Have you been doing healing work recently? I feel like you have, even if it is unknowingly or unconsciously. You’ve been healing a lot recently and it shows. This healing might bring you the gift you’ve been wanting. I’ve already mentioned you getting a gift but this healing is somehow related to it or to you getting it. Heart chakra healing is significant here. Maybe some of you need to hear it: you’re ready for love. It is safe for you to love. Don’t let your doubts discourage you from finding your forever person. They will come. Trust in yourself and the Divine Power.

8. Summer might be significant. Maybe some of you are born in the summer and it’s definitely a confirmation. Okay I feel as though Divine Powers want to talk about love now. So maybe your person is born in the summer or you’ll meet in summer. Festivals and concerts might be significant.

9. They are saying you need to put yourself out there more. Like go out more, sign up for some classes, create a dating app profile - do whatever feels right but get out of your comfort zone more. This way you might meet your person. If you never try, you never know, right?

10. New Years and the whole month of January might be significant.

11. You could meet someone who will turn out to be a great friend. They might be older than you. Also they have a lot of wisdom to share so be ready for deep conversations.

12. The names ‘Henry’, ‘Harry’, ‘Harriet’, ‘Helena’ come to mind, so this might be the friend’s name you’re going to meet or your person’s. Take it as it resonates.

13. Howl’s Moving Castle might be significant. Like you could be watching a movie with this friend you’re going to meet or with your person and that’s how you’ll know it’s them. Or your story could be significant to the characters in that movie. Again, take it as it resonates.

14. Overall, be ready to be blessed with a celebration and a gift. Better times are ahead.

Group 2

1. You could be experiencing a Tower moment and what I mean by this is…you might be shocked by something, something that will shake up your life: things that are not serving you will be removed whether it be in the form of things, habits or people - everything that has no place in your life anymore will be wiped out and you will get a clean slate.

2. Money might play a significant role. Perhaps the things you lose will be compensated with abundance.

3. Taking care of family’s legacy - you might be asked to do something for your family or your family will ask for your help of some sort. I see it being again related to money. I feel inheritance but not necessarily.

4. This loss that I was talking about earlier, it could be related to a breakup and it’s not necessarily a romantic one. Like something could break your heart which will result in your grieving and it is not necessarily a romantic partner.

5. I feel like you need to start doing something: I keep hearing “have you started?” so whatever it is that you need to be doing, don’t waste any more time and start now. It’s time. Whether it be business, a new career path or doing something you’ve always dreamed of doing. It’s high time you did it.

6. Similar to group 1, don’t isolate yourself. We get it. You like your alone time but don’t forget the people you have around you. Spend some more time with them. Go out. Have fun. The night is still young.

7. I see jewellery, so this could mean the next 3 months will somehow enrich your life and what I mean by that is…you might experience something which will be a rich experience for you and that could be anything: from a relationship of any sort to you getting a promotion at work or bettering your grades at school. It can be anything so be ready!

8. Bunnies might be significant in some way. Also the Year of the Rabbit might be significant, like if you’re born in that year, this could be a confirmation but if not look out for the next Year of the Rabbit because it might be important.

9. The plant juniper or the name ‘Juniper’ might be significant, I’m also hearing the planet ‘Jupiter’. Relating this to astrology, you might be influenced by Jupiter during the next 3 months, and what that means is…Jupiter is associated with growth, healing, prosperity, wealth, good fortune and miracles. So perhaps this heartbreak that I mentioned earlier, you will start healing from it during those next 3 months. Also the wealth could be related to the inheritance that I talked about earlier. Jupiter in the 4th house might be significant meaning you focusing on your family life. Perhaps this is talking about the thing that you will need to do for your family.

10. Your intuition might be heightened during the next 3 months. Like you could be having prophetic dreams, visions or you will be very much drawn to the occult and spirituality.

11. I keep seeing the Sun Tarot card, so even if you experience some downfalls, you will get up even stronger. Don’t give up.

12. I see the wedding scene from the Twilight Saga movies, so perhaps it means you getting proposed to or you getting married but if not that it could also mean you attending someone else’s wedding or your bond with your partner getting stronger. Also it could mean commitment of any sort, so perhaps if you’re single you might get a love offer.

13. You might be getting a glow up and it can mean anything: from a physical glow up to emotional, spiritual glow up.

14. You might be finding out how your crush feels about you, so perhaps this love offer is related to it. Overall, you might experience some bad times but you will get through them and even get one or two blessings!

Group 3

1. I see elephants, India, something far away - a far away land perhaps. If you are from India this is a confirmation, but if not, it could mean you’ll feel renewed in the next 3 months. Elephants are these huge creatures, so they also represent strength. Your strength could be tested or you will gain strength during those 3 months.

2. Something related to your childhood home or your childhood in general. You might feel nostalgic or it could quite literally mean you will travel back to your childhood home or hometown. I see you having some business there.

3. Trees. Growth. Nature. Also the song Autumn Trees by Corpse comes to mind so there might be a message for you in that song. Autumn could also be significant.

4. A fated connection. You might meet someone when you’re back in your hometown. Could be in autumn or during the summer. Virgo season comes to mind or the person you meet might be a Virgo. This connection is not necessarily romantic, at least it won’t start romantically. If it develops into something romantic over time, it’s going to start as a friendship. I see a club/pub and I’m getting two mixed energies so take what resonates. Either you meet this fated connection at the club/pub or it is a warning not to fall into a trap and grab the first person that shows you attention. Or it could be both: the fated connection person will be there but they won’t be the first one showing you attention there. You guys I’m getting you’re very pretty and before you say ‘no, Morgue, I’m not pretty, what are you talking about?’ Just listen. You are, okay. The energy doesn’t lie and believe me when I say you attract a lot of attention whether you’re aware of it or not. So there might be people showing you a lot of attention at that club or a pub, but your person is subtle, they calculate their every move. They are smart and they won’t be some f-boy/f-girl and won’t try to get you into bed right away, you know? The way they speak is very soft, calming, soothing. In fact, they might even be the ones who save you from unwanted attention from other people. Just look for someone gentlemanly/ladylike.

5. There’s a lot of energy around your childhood. A childhood friend might reappear in your life. They might ask you for a favour or for some help. Something related to a house or a home or home life. They might not be doing their best as I feel. Feminine energy but not necessarily female gender because this is just the energy I’m reading. I’m hearing “mother” and “passing”, so maybe for some of you your childhood friend’s mother or a close relative passed away and they need your help of some sort.

6. Astrology. Astronomy. Space. The Universe. I’m hearing “the stars will show the path”, so perhaps this means you might want to look deeper into your birth chart or I’m hearing a birth chart of someone close to you. Perhaps someone you’ve been thinking about lately.

7. Something foreign. So this Virgo person you meet might be a foreigner or at least doesn’t live in the same city or state as you. Okay, something tells me there’s more information on this Virgo that you need to be aware of. Oh, okay. There’s a message from them. They are saying they think you’re awesome. They are saying they will find you attractive on the day you meet but they will play it cool. They are saying they don’t want to rush things because they want this to last.

8. Something about the butterfly emoji. So they might text you a butterfly emoji or you might see a butterfly emoji somewhere as a confirmation. Or I’m also getting that whenever someone mentions a butterfly emoji in a video for example, there might be a message for you in that video.

9. The UK or Ireland might be significant. I’m also getting an island of some sort. You might want to check your astrocartography chart as it might lead you to great places!

10. Something related to your past life that you had during some sort of war or a battle. Medieval times. The Renaissance might be significant. Mona Lisa. Da Vinci. Michelangelo. Galileo Galilei. They all might be significant. Also I’m getting the name ‘Rafael’.

11. The Last Supper. The mural. This might be significant. I’m feeling a museum. So perhaps you will visit a museum and something significant happens when you see the Mona Lisa painting or The Last Supper mural. They are both created by Leonardo da Vinci so he is definitely significant here. I’m not getting a clear message as to why he is significant here, but it’s something related to the festival season, the holidays, like Christmas and the New Years.

12. Code. Egypt. Star Wars or Star Trek. Again the stars mentioned. So there might be something hidden that can be revealed in the stars or the star map. I’m also getting a prayer. So you might have the urge to pray to whatever Higher Power you believe in. They will hear your prayer, don’t worry. But they are also saying that for example if you ask for strength don’t be surprised if you get challenging situations which will help you gain it.

13. I see a farm, so you could be cultivating something, maybe something you have been wanting for a long time. Also you might be starting something that will be beneficial for you, especially career wise. But if it isn’t career it might be related to your life getting easier after a long period of hard work or hardships.

14. Overall, someone from your childhood might be returning but you will also gain some new friends along the way who might even help you with career or life in general.

[darkmatilda]

𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐛 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: one trip to california, one bed, two people, dozens of increasingly absurd topics of conversation, and an uncountable number of internal monologues running through spencer’s head during the night spent under the same blanket with his unexpected, self-appointed roommate.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, one bed trope in stupid circumstances (with this trope the more absurd = the better cant change my mind), mention of spiders, 7k words of talking like trust me nothing happens here (okay they fight a bit over the blanket) (guess who won), spencer is down down bad bad, reader teaches him about skin care and is wearing his clothes, cucumber somehow becomes a topic of conversation, mention that they had sex before (intimate talk, finally confront that fact), they solve crosswords like an old married couple then get married buy a guinea pig name it gideon monroe and move to the countryside (they dont just kidding)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.3k

𝐚/𝐧: shoutout to my homegirl @nightfullofparadox for conducting complex research on the walls of her room and helping me determine whether hand cream feels sticky, greasy, or moist—such an important matter that without it, this fic wouldn’t exist. marathon masterlist

"...it was during the night of June 11 to 12, after nearly a year of preparing the plan, that they finally put it into action," Reid explained, with an unconscious hand gesture—fluid and natural—showing just how engaged he felt in the story he was telling. "In their beds, they left fake heads made of a mixture of toilet paper, soap, concrete, and hair from the prison barber shop’s trash. That way, the guards thought they were asleep when in fact they were escaping through an opening in the ceiling they had carved using spoons..."

The famous escape from Alcatraz was a topic Morgan and Garcia had some superficial knowledge of, while their partners—Savannah and Sam—had virtually none. And it just so happened to be one of the places they planned to visit during their three-day trip to California (actually, it was also the reason Spencer agreed to go with them at all), so he was thrilled by the fact that he could introduce them to this orally fascinating subject. And, as a bonus, make the airport check-in much more interesting.

At one point, Savannah sighed, taking a sip of the coffee she’d bought at the airport.

"I still can’t believe that the first place I’ll visit during my vacation is a prison," she said.

Reid shrugged. For him, visiting Alcatraz was far more interesting than lounging by a pool, but he decided not to judge and instead offer up some information that might change her mind.

"The island of Alcatraz is beautiful in itself," he noted. "In 1972, it became part of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area..."

He broke off, noticing the impatience with which Morgan kept glancing at his watch. His gaze was still scanning the airport, as if someone was missing. Just to be sure—not that he needed to, because he was sure—but just to be sure, Spencer counted the faces of his friends. Four, plus himself. As many as there were supposed to be from the start.

“I swear, if she’s late…” Derek muttered under his breath, gently shaking his head from side to side.

Spencer parted his lips, then closed them again, feeling at least mildly confused.

“Who?” he asked. “We’re all here.”

A laugh rang out...

A treacherous giggle escaping from Penelope’s mouth.

All heads turned toward her, which only made her laugh harder and prompted her to cover her mouth with her hand. Sam looked at her, caught by her smile; he seemed just as surprised as Reid—but in a slightly different way—positively intrigued, while a knot of foreboding twisted in Spencer’s stomach.

“What are you two up to, hmm?” Sam asked Garcia, his gaze moving from her to Derek.

A smirk formed on Morgan’s lips.

“We made sure Reid won’t get bored…”

“Well hey there, everyone,” came a voice from behind Spencer. He shut his eyes, unable to believe what was happening. He didn’t even have to turn around. “If any of you secretly manifested for me to be late, you almost got your wish. You wouldn’t believe the traffic…”

He still didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to—he knew exactly who had joined them. It was obvious just from the looks Penelope and Morgan were exchanging. Oh, he had been so right—he definitely wouldn’t be bored on this trip. He’d just end up going absolutely insane with irritation at least a thousand times. About 333.3(3) for each day of their stay.

“Just wait till Spencer finds out we booked them a shared room…”

His eyes flew open instantly—and so did his mouth, his throat suddenly dry.

Morgan burst out laughing but calmed him with a wave of hand.

“That part was a joke.”

A very unfunny one.

*

After a long shower and an even longer day, Spencer finally slid into the hotel bed. The hotel bed in a room booked just for him. To his great relief, Garcia’s words had indeed turned out to be a little silly joke, not something he actually had to live through.

Strange places usually meant trouble falling asleep, but that night, exhaustion worked in his favor—the first day of their stay in California was always meant to be the most intense one, strictly focused on sightseeing. His body was tired from walking, and his eyes were already beginning to close. A familiar heaviness and haze settled over his head, signaling that he’d drift off the moment it hit the pillow…

…but then came a knock at the door.

With a frustrated sigh, he got to his feet, having no clue who might want something from him at this hour. He didn’t even feel like forming a theory or guessing—he just opened the door, his face making it clear to the visitor that whatever it was they wanted, they’d better want it quickly.

The sleepiness left his body at once, replaced by surprise at the sight of the last person he expected to see from the trip. He almost groaned.

“Don’t even tell me it wasn’t a joke and we really are sharing a room…”

The woman shot him a glare, probably because of his openly displeased reaction. Not that she looked particularly thrilled herself—Spencer gave her a quick once-over, mildly surprised to see she was still wearing the same clothes from their sightseeing earlier, which might mean she hadn’t even made it to her room yet. Her expression, on the other hand—tense.

“Relax, pretty boy,” she said coolly, the nickname paired with a nod toward his not-so-cooperative post-shower hair and the sleepwear that, despite being neatly folded in his suitcase, looked a little crumpled.

Spencer awkwardly smoothed his hair a bit; not noticing, she continued—this time with more seriousness:

“As it happens, I need your help. It won’t take long.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to give in to the irritation. One thing that was constant in their relationship was that whenever they needed each other’s help, it actually took a long time. Let’s skip the fact that it could easily be cut in half just by removing their verbal sparring. And at least five minutes of convincing to do it at all. That step, Spencer decided to skip—he was too tired for that.

So he could either shut the door in her face, or help. He knew he wouldn’t survive the first one.

“Help with what?” he got straight to the point.

She looked at him a bit more kindly, like she was pleased with the readiness to act.

“I could go to literally anyone else, but since they’re all paired up I didn’t want to barge into their room all of a sudden, in the middle of the night,” she began, then sighed. “There’s a spider in my room. I won’t sleep with it in there, and I’m definitely not killing it myself. So,” she gave him a meaningful look.

Spencer hesitated for a moment before giving a verbal response, though he was aware that his expression probably gave a lot away.

 “Did you get a good look at it?”

“Of course not. Then I’d spend the whole night feeling like something’s crawling on me. But it was big and scary. Come on, before it gets away,” she tried to grab his wrist and pull him out of the room, but Reid skillfully avoided it.

For one simple reason.

“You know that in California the most commonly found venomous spider is...”

“Black widow,” she finished for him, suppressing a shudder at the very thought. “Especially fond of corners in apartments, like the edges near the baseboards. And according to the California Poison Control System, around 200–300 black widow bites are reported annually in the entire state.”

He couldn’t help that the little lecture complete with stats made an impression on him. She shrugged nonchalantly.

“Why are you staring like that, Mr. Genius? You’re not the only one who does research on places you’re visiting,” she replied. After a second of silence, she cleared her throat. “Okay, especially about the spiders in them.”

Reid sighed, still with one hand on the open door to his room.

The woman met his gaze. Her eyes, as if on command, softened and grew at least twice their size in an earnest, silent plea that felt like mercilessly kicking a puppy if denied.

“Will you kill it?” she asked.

If he stared at her for another minute longer, a halo would’ve lit up above her head and giant angel wings would’ve sprouted from her back—he had to break the spell, shaking his head. He already knew her manipulative techniques. But a witch’s tricks, no matter how beautiful she was, were still a witch’s tricks.

“Fuck no,” he replied. “What if it bites me?”

As he had expected, her convincing, innocent charm evaporated, giving way to a grimace.

“Better for it to bite me?”

Spencer’s arms shot up defensively.

“Well, from my perspective…”

“Move,” she suddenly commanded, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He straightened, his brow furrowed, not understanding. She made a sweeping motion with her hand, emphasizing what she meant. He felt a little as though some invisible force had actually pushed him aside, and he struggled to resist. The woman, with her usual confidence, looked him straight in the eye.

“Move, because I’m sleeping here,” she declared.

He blinked slowly and parted his lips wide enough to swallow a tennis ball. If anyone had just shot a tennis ball at him. Taking advantage of his moment of whatever it was, the woman gave him an ironic smile and simply bypassed him, not even caring that her hip brushed against him. Spencer somehow felt that fleeting touch all over his body, not just on that small part of him protected by clothes.

He needed to jam his hand into his own head to catch up with the situation.

“You’re not sleeping here!” he squeaked. With that voice, he wouldn’t stop even a kitten from wiping its ass on his pillow (and since he’d become a cat dad, that had happened a few times—he knew what he was talking about). Let alone a grown woman, a woman like her, from literally anything.

So, he took a deep breath, turned to face her, and said in a lower tone:

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Funny, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. Now close those damn doors.”

He felt that if he really closed those doors, he’d seal his fate. And it was exactly that thought that had terrified him when Penelope joked about it at the airport. Hesitant, he looked at her, not quite so clearly in the dim room, but still...he couldn’t deny it, she was attractive. In every way. Something she was well aware of and liked to use, making his face turn red and his mind fuzzy.

It was something Spencer could fight—but only for a short while. For the rest of the time, he became pathetically defenseless and exposed to her will, and like any person, he wanted to feel like he had some control over himself, over his own corner, room, bed, sleep.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and stay patient. Her arms crossed over her chest clearly saying she had already made up her mind. Still, he tried.

“Seriously,” he said with emphasis. “You can’t. There’s only one bed.”

He stated a fact, didn’t make it up—yet she scoffed as if he had just shared some controversial, completely unfounded opinion.

“It’s huge. You won’t even notice me,” she swiftly countered the argument.

He sighed, because on that particular point, she was right. The hotel bed was enormous. He looked at it with hesitation eating him from the inside, and finally, he broke and closed the door. As he turned to do it, he caught a fleeting glimpse of satisfaction on her face. He wanted to bang his forehead against the flat wooden surface.

Realizing he couldn’t stand frozen like that for the rest of the night, he finally stepped away from the door, slightly closing the distance between them. There was something expectant in her eyes.

“You’ll have to lend me something to sleep in,” she declared, watching his reaction with amusement. A reaction he tried to keep as unaffected as possible—but didn’t succeed very well. She gestured to her outfit. “Everything’s in my room. I didn’t even get the chance to shower when that monster materialized in it.”

He let out a sarcastic snort.

“What do you think,” he began, “how many clothes did I pack for a three-day trip?”

“Certainly more than necessary, you germophobe.”

Spencer should have felt offended by that remark, but somewhere at the edges of his mind, it flattered him a little. Because in truth, he had brought more clothes than necessary, and it was related to his aversion to germs. What he didn’t know was that she knew that.

“If anything, I’ll lend you something of mine tomorrow in return,” she murmured playfully, letting her gaze trail down the length of his frame, a gesture that instantly tightened the muscles in his stomach.

“I don’t think that would exactly fit my style,” he noted, swallowing as calmly as he could manage.

She shrugged slowly.

“You’ve got a decent waist. It would suit you.”

As she walked past him, heading straight for his suitcase, she poked him in that so-called decent waist with her fingernails, her hand moving like she was picking berries off a bush. Spencer actually jumped, rendered speechless, because first of all—what the fuck—and second, that hurt!

“I’ll pass,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the assaulted spot.

He watched with a sort of sick fascination as she approached his suitcase and pulled out whatever clothes she deemed suitable for sleeping. It wasn’t the process or the act itself that triggered such a reaction in him—this inability to look away or even move—but her, in and of herself. So brazen she was practically unpredictable. And because of that, utterly captivating.

He only remembered that his body needed air to survive once his new roommate disappeared into the bathroom and the sound of the shower reached his ears. And really, it was at that exact moment that full-blown panic took hold of Spencer's back.

As they had already established, the only bed was huge—but still, it was just one. A flat surface not usually shared with random people, let alone people with whom you had such a complicated relationship. In order to even be able to move, Reid had to look at it from the opposite perspective. It was just a flat surface, a piece of wood, a mattress, and some bedding. The world wouldn’t end if he found himself under that bedding with her. Maybe he was even being heroic. Maybe there really had been a black widow in her room, and he, Spencer Reid, had to make this sacrifice for the good of humanity. For the good of one mind-blowing woman with never-flustered eyes who walked through every situation with unwavering confidence—even this one.

He realized he was still standing in the middle of the hotel room, completely frozen, and the sound of water from the bathroom had long gone silent.

To avoid humiliating himself right from the start, he hurried into bed. His thoughts tangled in chaos. It wasn’t like she was his guest or anything—he didn’t have to wait for her or make sure she had everything she needed. He had every right to simply lie down on his side, turn his back to her, and snatch a well-deserved and long-awaited sleep. And that’s exactly what he decided to do, though despite his heavy eyelids, his body and mind remained fully alert.

He heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open, heard each of her steps separately, even heard the rustle of the duvet as she grabed a part of it to slip underneath. The mattress shifted. Just once. Which meant that if she had really gotten into bed, there would’ve been a few movements—signs of lying down, adjusting, searching for the right position. Spencer frowned and hesitantly rolled onto his back so he could look at her—and saw that she was frozen in a seated position, staring back at him.

He wanted to ask, a bit snidely, if something was wrong—but the words stalled in his throat at the sight of his clothes on her body, his loose t-shirt slightly revealing a glimpse of her collarbone and a few strands of hair still tucked underneath it.

In the end, she beat him to it, nodding slightly in his direction.

“We need to switch sides,” she said. He looked at her in confusion. “I mean, I prefer sleeping on that one.”

Spencer glanced at the ceiling for a moment, drawing a breath stripped of all patience into his lungs.

“What difference does it make?”

“Comfort. I always sleep on the right.”

“Oh, come on. This is my bed, and you’ve got…insane demands!”

“These aren’t insane demands. These are basic demands. You don’t want to know my insane ones.”

For a moment, their eyes met, and he pursed his lips slightly.

“You know what? I don’t think I can argue with that,” he muttered.

There was a flicker of premature victory in her eyes.

“So…we’re switching sides?”

“No.”

Saying that one simple word somehow made him feel more grounded in the situation. His brain was still in place, not melting and leaking out of his ears yet. Her chest rose with an annoyed sigh, and for a moment, she stayed quiet, locking eyes with him, giving him a chance to reconsider. And when Spencer didn’t…she simply turned her back to him and lay down on her side.

Without begging, or resorting to her usual tricks (let’s be honest—she always managed to find some), Spencer propped himself up on one elbow and stared at her back, his brows furrowed. That had gone surprisingly easily. So easily, in fact, that he didn’t feel the slightest satisfaction in having defended his rightful side of the bed.

He was just about to lie down in silence… when she let out a long, overly dramatic, loud, and thoroughly offended sigh. Yep—one short sound packed with that many adjectives.

He rolled his eyes at the sound.

“You can sigh all you want,” he muttered under his breath.

 He glanced at her cautiously, silently waiting to see if she’d say anything.

She didn’t.

He was just about to rest his head on the pillow again when the sound came back—just as overly dramatic and just as irritating.

“Fine. Take the damn side.”

His eyes shut tight, and a brief thought crossed his mind: he wasn’t going to cave to one of her whims. She’d survive one night on the wrong side of the bed.

Completely against that thought, his open palm smacked the pillow in defeat.

She immediately turned to face him with a smug little grin—and this time, it was Reid who sighed, though out of disbelief at himself. Thinking she’d get up and walk around the bed, he was left speechless, eyes wide, when she simply slid over him like someone crossing two shoelaces before tying them.

A knee accidentally jabbed him in the ribs, the ends of her hair brushed his face, and finally an elbow shoved him toward the left side all within, like, two seconds.

“How sweet of you to give me my favorite side,” she added with ironic cheer, the corners of her mouth lifting. She sat cross-legged on the bed, a gap between her back and the headboard, the blanket covering part of her knees. “You going to sleep now?”

Spencer, lying flat on his back and still recovering from what she'd just done, slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. His hand, acting entirely without the consent of his fogged-up brain, reached for the nightstand where he’d left a book—just in case he couldn’t fall asleep.

Before she showed up, he’d been ready to pass out the moment he hit the mattress. Now, though, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to. He was fully awake.

In response, he just shook his head and opened the book to his saved page. It was about Alcatraz. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her tilt her head to read the title on the cover, then pick something up—something he hadn’t even realized she’d been holding.

She squeezed a bit of white cream from a plastic tube onto the back of her hand. Catching his glance, she held it out toward him.

“Hand cream?”

Spencer gave her a completely blank, uncomprehending stare, like she was an alien visitor offering him some sort of high-tech ointment for immortality. And it wasn’t that the question itself was so outlandish. He was just fascinated by the escalation of it all. From inviting herself into his room and stealing clothes out of his suitcase to now sitting shoulder to shoulder in his bed and offering him hand cream.

He gave a slow shrug.

“Why not.”

She squeezed a bit of the lotion onto his hands, and after he rubbed it in, he waited a few minutes before reaching for his book again—because the thought of sticky fingerprints on the pages gave him the ick.

In the meantime, a dissatisfied grimace flickered across her face.

“All my skincare stuff is in my room,” she complained to him. “I had to use those hotel minis from your bathroom.”

She said it with such profound disgust that Spencer glanced at her over the top of his book, just as he was flipping the page, mildly amused.

“Poor thing. How ever did you survive?”

“Trust me, it took real sacrifice,” she assured him with a dead-serious expression. She picked up the hand cream again, examining the label with the air of someone reviewing classified intel. “Let’s see. Oh my god, there it is—Ethanol. Hello, instant dryness. Fragrance. Irritates, triggers allergies, wrecks your lipid barrier.”

She went on, listing off each ingredient in the cream with critical precision, offering lengthy commentary and open disdain for most of them. At some point, her monologue drifted into the category of skin-friendly ingredients—and that’s when Spencer realized he wasn’t actually reading anymore. He was just sitting in silence, eyes quietly fixed on her.

“And on top of all that,” she said suddenly, louder, pulling him out of the daze he'd slipped into. His open book lay face down on the blanket covering him up to the waist. “it just smells absolutely disgusting.”

Following her words, with some surprisingly genuine curiosity, he brought the back of his hand to his nose. And frowned.

“Smells like cucumber.”

“Exactly.”

“Cucumbers are actually a pretty nice scent.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Who in their right mind wants to smell like a cucumber?”

He felt obligated to defend the honor of cucumbers.

“Well, I bet there are plenty of people who like that scent,” he began, logically spreading his arms to the sides. She raised her brows at him, clearly not accepting that. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many cosmetic products with that exact smell. Personally, I don’t think it’s bad. It’s definitely refreshing.”

Her eyes swept over him almost evaluatively, up and down.

“I wouldn’t want to hear that kind of compliment.”

Spencer had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from commenting, but ended up doing it anyway.

“Oh, that’s new.”

“Hm?”

“You, not wanting to hear a compliment.”

She turned her face toward him, eyes narrowed.

“Are you suggesting I’m vain?”

Reid only slightly raised his brows and gave a brief shake of his head, leaving it open to her interpretation. After her question, he looked away from her, leaning out of the bed to place the book back on its spot on the nightstand. He figured it was probably time for sleep—another early wake-up awaited them the next day, and they’d already spent too much of this night talking. Surprisingly, Spencer didn’t regret it.

It means, he’d probably need an extra cup of coffee because of it tomorrow, but the whole thing was that after this conversation, he felt a knot in his stomach loosen, stress gradually leaking out of his entire body. Stress that had been there from the beginning, precisely because of what they were doing—sharing a bed.

A rather pleasant silence settled between them—finished, complete. Each of them focused on finding a comfortable position in which they wouldn’t be in each other’s way; no unfinished topic lingered in the air, no unpleasant words hung between them. The bed was spacious enough that, once they turned their backs to each other, they could almost forget about the other’s presence—but before they did, Spencer hesitated, lying on his back with his head on the pillow.

He caught her gaze before she had a chance to show him her back—he stopped her. She propped her temple against her palm, lying on her side, and gave him a questioning tilt of the chin. He swallowed nervously, gearing up to bring up something he had meant to say earlier but had forgotten.

“You’re going to leave early in the morning,” he said. It wasn’t a command or a request—more like…an opinion. Because he honestly thought it was the best solution, and assumed she’d agree. Her expression, however, remained unreadable.

 “I mean, before the others wake up,” he clarified.

Her shoulders gave a dismissive shrug.

“I’ll leave when I wake up and get myself together. I don’t care if the others are still asleep or already done with breakfast,” she replied.

She said it with a kind of simplicity that didn’t quite apply to the way Spencer perceived reality. Honestly, he felt like rolling his eyes.

“You know what they’re going to think about us?” he asked, rhetorically.

It seemed to him that she disagreed just for the sake of disagreeing, of doing things her own way, when in reality he hadn’t asked her for anything impossible or exhausting. Just for a possibly unnoticed exit from his room in the morning.

Still, she chose to answer.

“Two consenting adults having sex. Scandalous.”

For a moment, he stared at her in silence, then sighed. His head turned toward the ceiling.

“Okay, forget it.”

The mattress shifted—her movement. Or rather, her coming closer—not out of some sudden, unjustified need for affection, but to make sure her quietly spoken words were heard more clearly, a trace of irritation in them.

“Don’t act like some blushing princess,” she chided him, with complete seriousness despite everything. “We actually did have sex, Spencer. Did you forget?”

He was glad he had chosen to keep his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Just as the topic returned like a boomerang thrown nearly a decade earlier, one that had hit birds, planes, and several of his own downcast glances on its way back—forms of escape.

Her question wasn’t rhetorical; she waited for an answer, staring into his profile with a drilling gaze. Clever responses got lost somewhere in his tired brain; defeated by the effort of searching, he closed his eyes for a moment and went with simplicity.

“No.”

The reply came a moment later, but in its own way, measured—as if planned as well.

“So stop acting like it would be such a huge shame for you. The fact that you might be accused of sleeping with me,” she said coldly. Her hand, which had until then been supporting her head, dropped loosely onto the mattress. She pulled it toward her body and turned onto her back herself, no longer looking at him.

Spencer turned onto his side to look at her—or rather, at her profile—immediately after she said it. There was no pause, no uncertain hesitation, no nervous swallow paired with searching for something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a jerk. In fact, he felt so bad about how she had taken his words that correcting himself came easily, driven by too much shame.

“I’m not saying it would be shameful,” he denied. “I just…maybe I don’t want people thinking things about me, about us, that aren’t true.”

“Then maybe you should care less about what people think,” she shot back.

“And maybe you should care more.”

She tilted her head slightly in his direction to catch his gaze—and hold it. Spencer felt a dryness in his throat, realizing she was waiting, without blinking, for the moment to say what she meant to say.

“Listen,” she began slowly. Her voice didn’t rise or lower; she didn’t break eye contact, but she also didn’t let him read too much from her expression. “We’re both adults. We slept together. It was nice. There’s no need to overanalyze it.”

She didn’t say it harshly, but it sounded like the end of the conversation.Spencer, however, couldn’t just leave it like that—something inside him made him speak up before that proverbial biting of the tongue could happen. It wasn’t easy though, not when his throat felt like a desert, and the question came out surrounded by a noticeable, nervous rasp.

“It was nice? Did…did you actually enjoy that?”

As he looked at her with his lips sealed and his breath held, she looked at him like he was an idiot.

“I’m not the type to fake anything.”

Lying still, he truly wished she would look away—let him free himself from her eyes and from what came not exactly because of them, but because of her. Her presence, her closeness, everything she had said. The memory he always punished himself for replaying, at least whenever she was near. He considered it deeply inappropriate.To feel someone’s touch again, to watch them uncovered while they stood right in front of you, maybe saying something, maybe asking a question.

Maybe lying in the same bed, in which she ended up only because of a small intruder in her own room, face to face, in the quietest possible silence.

Spencer gave in and turned his head away, cursing silently in his mind. But that still felt safer than continuing to meet her eyes. And when he did, suddenly the distance between their bodies seemed to grow, ever so slightly, even though physically they remained the same—on the same side of the bed. Only then did a flicker of sober thought manage to pierce through his mind. You won’t even notice me, he recalled her words and felt the urge to scoff. Even at the moment she’d said them, he’d suspected they wouldn’t hold true.

Sure, he could turn his back to her and draw some imaginary line between them, but that line was just an abstract concept, with no real application in their reality. He could not see her, but he still felt her beside him, and her presence seeped ethereally into his mind.

He somewhat regretted putting the book down, as he really needed a distraction. They still hadn't said anything to each other, but her gaze no longer lingered on him, making whatever had hung in the air between them in that brief moment start to fade away.

Reid moved his fingers aimlessly, trying not to appear paralyzed. And that's exactly how he felt, which made him incapable of falling asleep. Even his eyelids were no longer heavy. He heard a soft clearing of her throat. Okay, right after that, whatever had hung in the air was truly gone. Or rather, they existed on the plane of that aftertaste.

"You know," came his quiet, thoughtful voice. The silence between them had lasted long enough that a certain rasp had crept in, making Spencer have to mask a deep breath he suddenly took. "I don't think I can fall asleep without some mental effort. I miss my sudoku. Left it in my room, along with my skincare stuff."

"Talking to me isn't enough?" Spencer tried to joke, adding a little cocky tone to relax things, but god, it came out as the most awkward, pathetic thing he'd said, especially considering that his brain had shrunk to the size of a peanut over the last twenty minutes.

She spared him by not shooting him a look that said seriously? He shot that look at himself instead. Then he cleared his throat.

"Actually, I think I have some crosswords in my bag."

Her head turned toward him, eyebrows raised, silently asking what are you waiting for?

Spencer nearly jumped out of bed, almost tripping over his own legs, and returned moments later with a thick crossword book and a pen. Half sitting, half lying down, he immediately felt her shift closer to his side, her head resting on his pillow so she could see the filled-in squares.

Her finger tapped one of the boxes before Reid had even read the clue.

“Benzene,” she said.

Out of habit, he parted his lips to speak, then shut them—because, well, yeah. It was benzene. He dropped his gaze to the next clue, the answer flashing in his mind with a slight delay—but she said it aloud before he could. And that’s how it went every time, even though he was used to solving crosswords at near-record speeds. It happened because every time he knew the answer, his eyes drifted toward her, checking if she did too. And that alone was enough to smack his logic and focus square across the face, causing the delay.

He tried to recover, but there was no competitive spirit in him that night. So he just filled in the answers she gave, finding a strange kind of ease in the motion itself.

Force drawing objects toward each other, the next clue read. Of course he knew the answer—but he didn’t rush to say it. After all, she said she needed the mental effort to fall asleep; this was her shot. But no response came. Well, it was late. Maybe her sleepy brain wasn’t firing at full capacity anymore.

Then he felt a certain weight settle against his shoulder.

Spencer didn’t even need to look in her direction to know it was her head. But he looked anyway—because it felt so improbable he had to challenge both his eyes and his brain to a duel, just to make sure they hadn’t conspired to play tricks on him.

But no, it wasn’t a trick at all. She had really fallen asleep, letting her neck go slack, her temple landing right in that spot on his shoulder, the crown of her head brushing lightly against his neck and jawline.

Staring at her, Reid finally forced himself to blink when the air started to sting his eyes. The crossword book still rested in his hands, open, the pen between his fingers, and his lungs—at last—uncertainty drawing in air. Gently, so as not to jostle his body too much or… well, wake her.

He wondered if she’d yell at him if he woke her and told her to move. To go back to her half—the half she’d fought so hard for. But that thought remained just that: a curiosity. Spencer didn’t actually want to do it, though he couldn’t quite explain why. He, who usually shied away from touch. Yet this didn’t feel intrusive, awkward, or unwanted. It felt like a heavy blanket settling over the body on a cold, lonely night—something that wrapped around you with the soft weight of care and comfort in that dim, suspended moment just before sleep.

Though maybe, out of respect for her, he should wake her. After all, it wasn’t like she’d done it on purpose—her head had just drifted there…

Spencer pressed the back of his own head into the pillow with a sigh.

He closed the crossword book, set it aside on the blanket, and simply lay there—not trying to sleep, not trying to stay awake either.

It didn’t take long before the former won.

And it would’ve been very romantic to say that, come morning, they woke up in the same position—rested and refreshed, ready to take on another day of their trip, radiating energy and charm. That absolutely did not happen.

When Spencer woke up, it wasn’t even morning. Bringing his watch up to his face, he learned that exactly one hour and twenty-four minutes had passed since they’d fallen asleep—or rather, since she had. He, meanwhile, now lay pushed all the way to the edge of the bed, the knuckles of one limp hand brushing the floor.

He was literally one tiny movement away from falling off and slamming his head into the nightstand.

There was sand under his eyelids, and he was freezing. Disoriented, he forced his unbelievably heavy head upward to figure out why.

While he had been exiled to the very edge of the bed, she was lying comfortably on her side right in the middle, wrapped in their entire shared blanket like a cocoon—so tightly, in fact, that it took him a solid five minutes of analysis just to figure out which side her face was on. Eventually, he concluded it was turned toward him.

With a sigh, he reached for the edge of the blanket, hoping to claim at least a small portion of it for himself.

He couldn’t wrest the blanket free from her iron grip, no matter how hard he tried. A disbelieving huff escaped his lips—how could a sleeping body possess so much strength? And despite all his efforts, her slumber remained undisturbed.

He sighed. He was far too cold to give up.

After a moment’s hesitation about getting any closer, he finally leaned in to target the one part of her body left unguarded by the fortress—that is, the blanket. Gently, he pressed a finger against her cheek, with the kind of light pressure you’d use to test if dough had risen.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, casting him a look that was first surprised, then thoroughly annoyed.

In a sleepy, groggy voice, she mumbled something that sounded a lot like what do you want?

“What do I want?” repeated Spencer, just as quietly as she had, but with more alertness. Their words were barely murmurs; if someone had stood in the doorway, they probably wouldn’t even have realized they were speaking to each other. “I want the blanket. You took all of it for yourself.”

“Because I’m cold,” she replied selfishly.

He scoffed in outrage.

“Guess what, so am I!”

At the count of fifty-eight, she stirred, then unwrapped her cocoon, lifting a part of the blanket so he could slip underneath. Her face showed nothing short of pure pity—divine mercy, even.

The woman didn’t answer him anymore, her eyes closed throughout the entire exchange. Reid shook his head slightly in disbelief, realizing… she had probably fallen asleep again.

He decided to wait a minute. Sixty seconds before he stopped being so nice and just took the blanket from her.

Spencer looked at her hesitantly, unable to move because, well… it would mean actually getting close. Almost falling asleep face to face, nose to nose.

“No, then don’t,” she muttered impatiently, already starting to pull the blanket back when Reid made the decision—before his brain had time to logically process it.

Once he was close, she let the blanket fall over both of them.

He couldn’t close his eyes, staring at her features blurred by the dark, even though he wanted to.

“Attraction,” she said, half-asleep.

His lips parted in confusion, unsure if he had imagined it.

 “W-what?”

A long moment of silence passed before she responded again.

“Force drawing objects toward each other. In the crossword. The answer is attraction.”

“Oh, right,” he confirmed, sheepishly.

Another stretch of silence followed—so long there was no doubt she had fallen asleep.

In the morning, he woke up first, struggling to make sense of the tangle of limbs they had become. Not cuddled, exactly, but complex, unarranged—labyrinthine. If he weren’t so sleepy, he might have been able to turn it into some sort of metaphor about…

“How late are we?” she pulled him out of his thoughts, sitting up with a yawn.

Her question, tone, and movements were all completely casual.

Still lying down, Spencer blinked up at her silhouette above him, trying to orient himself in reality. They had agreed to meet the rest of their friends at a specific time. He sighed, feeling the stiffness in his muscles, and slowly reached for the watch he had left on the nightstand, immediately sighing again.

“Very,” he said simply.

She adjusted his t-shirt, which had slipped partially off her shoulder.

“So I’m taking the bathroom first.”

He watched as she threw the blanket off her knees and her bare feet traced a path toward the bathroom. He followed her with a gaze that bordered on intrusive, and when he realized it, he flinched slightly. His head fell back onto the pillow at the same moment the door closed behind her.

He had just been hit by the kind of thoughts one can only face in a horizontal position.

For some reason, the room felt much quieter than it had when they had both been lying there in silence.

He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, simply not knowing what was happening to him. Once more, he replayed in his mind the way she adjusted his shirt on her body with a certain fluidity of movement, a nonchalance, a naturalness. A naturalness that, in its own way, hurt him when he thought about it too much.

The weight in his head was definitely not natural, the nervousness wasn’t natural, the way his breath changed when her face, in sleep, ended up too close to his—none of it was natural.

And yet, they had only shared a bed.

Before he could spiral fully into the rest of his anxious thoughts, a knock sounded at the door. A flashback from the previous evening flickered across his mind—when he had first been falling asleep and it had been her standing on the threshold. But now she was in the bathroom, so it had to be someone else—one of their friends.

He went to open the door and, just as he’d predicted, found himself face-to-face with Penelope.

“Do you even realize what time it is?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. Spencer raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it. After so many hours of quiet, her voice struck him as particularly loud. It helped wake him up—something he definitely needed.

“If you want to spend this day the way we originally planned, you better get dressed and do something about that hair, my dear…”

Penelope’s mouth suddenly fell open, her eyes widening as they locked on a point just behind Spencer. He instinctively turned—only to see his roommate stepping out of the bathroom, unaware of Garcia’s arrival.

She was still wearing his clothes from the night before, her hair damp from a morning shower, and yesterday’s outfit slung over her arm with the clear intention of returning it to her own room and suitcase.

Penelope only noticed her once both pairs of eyes had settled on her—his included—and she froze mid-step. She looked him straight in the eye, and he was sure they were both thinking the same thing—the conversation they’d had the night before.

“Oh my god,” Garcia squeaked, practically bouncing in place. She slapped a hand over her mouth, shaking her head as if to gather herself. “I mean hi. You. Two of you. I…see you’re not quite ready so…fifteen minutes? Great!”

Before leaving, she shot Reid a very pointed look—just a second long, but more than enough to make it clear that they definitely had something to talk about.

[kanmom51]

JK ain't gay - part 118 to our super professional expose

*Disclaimer: This is not for the humourless or faint at heart.

Yes my friends, it's time for another piece in our award winning (Best made up expose ever award of twenty twenty something or other) JK Ain't Gay expose.

JK is back from the military.

JK showed his sexy self up at Hobi's concert on Festa.

And now that he's back it's time to for Hobi to beware, or so say the TikTok experts:

"Watch out Hobi, JK is out to steal all your girls".

Even though, to those expert TikToker's say so, the man already has between 2 to 200 girlfriends of different ages, sizes, hair colours, nationalities, including (probably not) his blond haired girlfriend from his pre-enlistment Japan trip. Oh, wait a second, that was JM, oops.

And so, my non existent team and myself have decided that indeed it is time to post our latest episode of our series, part 123 (wink wink).

SIGH.

In this highly explosive episode we will be revealing to you the latest discovery my research team of 1 found.

I am sad to reveal that following our previous exposes, including the Hickey-gate recordings, our super secret agent was exiled to boot camp, hence our need to recruit a new source. It has taken us some time, but we have done it. And now I am bringing this to you following confirmation we have received from our secret inside plant (Goldie, the Labrador, who heard this unequivocally from the horse's mouth on visit day). I'm trusting you guys not to divulge our secret agent, yeah?

But before we reveal this huge bomb that CLEARLY proves JK is up for grabs for all you horny ass gals out there who are fantasizing about JM's chestie besties and clearly have a chance at grabbing them for yourselves, we need to present a "previously on JK ain't gay":

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4 (maybe)

Episode 5

The Hickey-gate recordings that have never been revealed (until I revealed them):

The RB mind blowing recording revealing it all:

And now that we have gone through all the 811 previous episodes, it is time for our HUGE scoop today.

We have uncovered a never been seen before AITA ask that JK who ain't gay had sent to Reddit and will be sharing it here with your for the first time ever (again, thank you Goldie):

Dear Reddit - Am I the Asshole?

I am 27 years old musician and I have just rejected my blond haired brunette, tall but short, Korean but also Caucasian girlfriend's ultimatum to me - it's either her or my Jiminie.

Am I the asshole?

Before I get to the ultimatum I need to give you a little bit of background here.

My gf and I have been together since 2014. Or maybe not? Maybe since 2019? Wait, let me ask my fans for a sec... nope, it's since 2021... maybe? Or was it 2022? Or 2023? I guess they know better than I do. I mean, I did tell them I don't have a gf, but I probably don't know, right?

Anyway, she's never been happy with the relationship I have with my Jiminie. But I seriously don't understand what her problem is!!

So what if I look at him like he's the moon and the start combined.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if I would rather spend all my free time with him, since forever and ever and ever and until the end of time.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if I can spend hours filming my Jiminie, taking photos of him. He's so pretty, he's my muse. How can I not?

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if I can't stop talking about him, constantly mentioning my Jiminie hyung, even when I'm at work. It's not my fault he's such a cutie and I would rather watch him than interact with my fans.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if I sucked on his ear in front of thousands of our fans and then gave him a loving kiss on his ear shell. You know that's just a bro thing.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if we spent time together and I let him put his lips on my neck and have a good suck?

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if I sent him a super sexy super flirty public happy birthday clip? I ended it with "Bro".

So that most definitely doesn't mean anything.

So what if we just couldn't spend 18 months of our military service apart and chose to be the first idols EVER to enlist together.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if I chose to spend any free time I had between my super busy schedule going on trips with Jiminie, finally, taking care of him, feeding him, feeling up his lovely waxed legs, yum.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if the night I returned from a work trip to NY I spend with Jiminie, cooking for him, and we left on our trip together the next day.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if my last trip before enlisting I chose to do with my Jiminie, to Japan, a very special place for the two of us (Jiminie and I, not my gf, like what was her name anyway?)

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if we slept together all cuddly (what does she even want from me? I need to be close to my Jiminie), so what if we spent our free time together, so what if we showered together, so what if I would wait for him to be ready before going to shower. So what if I took care of my Jiminie preparing special meals for him during training. So what if we made plans for our futures together.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if when we were on leave I chose to spend my time with my Jiminie hyung.

That doesn't mean anything.

So what if when I was allowed to go on leave overseas just before we were discharged we decided to fly out to our favorite super sentimentally important destination (no, not me and her, eww.. me and my JIminie).

That doesn't mean anything.

Right?

I don't understand why she's making such a big deal out of this.

making this ultimatum.

It's her or my Jiminie?

My Jimin-ssi.

My hyung.

My cutie sexy lovely?

Like there is even a choice here.

So yeah, not that it means anything, cause you know, I ain't gay, but yeah, sorry babe, I showed here the door.

Am I the asshole?

So my friends.

You saw it first here!!

Once again we have clear proof of JK's ungayness.

He said so himself. On Reddit.

We have Goldie to back this up (that lucky bitch... literally). She heard it from JK who was talking to her bestie Bam, although the latter was understandably unwilling to back this up (we tried to get his confirmation) seeing that his previous scoop brought on his banishment.

There you have it folks.

JK ain't gay.

He's as straight an arrow as they come.

That is if that arrow is pointing in this direction:

Sorry not sorry girlies.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[coquitokisses]

School fight | Dean Winchester

Word count: 655

Summary: You and Dean receive a call from your daughter’s school telling you that she got into a fight.. her first fight ever

A/n: Oakley is like 10 or 11 years old in this

A/n #2: sorry for not updating sooner, I’ve been going through some personal stuff (which is now better thank god), these last few weeks have been a little rough and my anxiety was through the roof lol I’m feeling okay tho so here is this fic that’s been in my drafts since April 2nd lol enjoy!

It was 12:45 pm when you and Dean arrived at your daughter’s school. You got a call from the principal telling you that Oakley got into a fight with another girl and that she also punched a boy. You couldn’t even believe it.

“She’s grounded.” You told Dean

“No, she’s not, not yet.” He said “We don’t even know what happened.”

“She shouldn’t be fighting with anyone and let alone at school!” You turned to look at him

“Calm down, let’s just wait for her to tell us.”

Calm down? Was he insane?

“Why are you so calm all of a sudden?” You crossed your arms

“It’s not like I didn’t get into a school fight when I was younger.” He says “Can’t exactly scold her for something I’ve done too.”

“She is so your daughter.” You said pinching the bridge of your nose “She’s grounded, end of story.”

“She’s not.”

Before you could say something back, you saw the principal come out of her office with Oakley by her side. Your daughter walked towards you and you noticed her cheekbone was a little red.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You asked her in a low voice, you were obviously mad, but Dean pulled you by the arm

“Stop.” He muttered

“I’m sorry.” Oakley said putting her hands inside her jacket pockets

“Are you hurt?” Dean asked

“Not much, she only punched me once.”

The principal called you both to her office so you went and there, she explained what happened and she also told you that Oakley, along with the other girl and the boy, were suspended for the rest of the week. Quoting the “we don’t tolerate violent behavior in our school” bullshit.

Once the conversation was done, the three of you walked out of the office and as you were walking towards the car, you turned to look at Oakley.

“You have one chance to explain to us what happened exactly and don’t you dare lie because I will know it.” You told her “So, explain.”

“She was being a bully.” She replied “And that other boy, it wasn’t his fight, he was just trying to be a hero or whatever.” She rolled her eyes “He pissed me off so I pushed him away.”

“With a punch straight in the face.” Dean added

She slowly nodded, kinda embarrassed “Um.. yeah.”

“You don’t punch people because they piss you off.” You say “Your dad pisses me off almost everyday, you don’t see me hitting him.”

“But that doesn’t count, you’re together.”

“She has punched me, just saying.” Dean spoke

“Shut up.” You look at him “That’s not the point, you can’t go punching people in school, Oakes.”

“I was just defending myself, isn’t that what you and dad always tell me?”

Touché. Yes, of course you and Dean have told her to defend herself and of course she knows how, after all, her parents were hunters since they were kids. She had to know how to defend/protect herself.

“Well if it was in self defense, then you did good.” Dean told her “But mom’s right too tho.”

She sighed “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven only because it’s your first fight” you say “I hope we don’t get to a second one.”

“If she keeps coming at me, no promises.”

Dean looked at you with a proud smile “She really is my daughter.”

You literally give him a death stare “You think?”

“Okay, how about we order some pizza, hm?” He wrapped one of his arms around Oakley

“Oh yeah sure, cuz we should reward her bad behavior.” You crossed your arms

“Hey it was self defense.” He said

“No pizza. There’s food at home.”

You heard Dean let out a sigh “Wow, mommy’s.. boring.” He looked down at Oakley

She shrugged “Only a little.. sometimes.”

And you could hear their laughs behind you as you got closer to the car.

series masterlist • main masterlist

Taglist is still open!

Likes, comments & reblogs will be appreciated! <3

Tags: @mychemicalfalloutpilotsstuff @multiversefanfics @ladykitana90 @mostlymarvelgirl @ilovetaquitosmmmm

[pit-stop-princess]

Click Click - Chapter Three

Ollie Bearman x Photographer!Fem!Reader

Kimi Antonelli & Antonelli!Sister!Reader

Summary: I came to F1 with my little brother Kimi to photograph his rookie season, not to fall for his best friend and Haas's golden boy. Somehow, Ollie Bearman keeps ending up in my shots!

Warnings: Angst, fluff, awkward text messages, young Kimi panicking, self-doubt, talk of perfection, picture of woman in swimsuit, light swearing

Word Count: 1694, not including text threads or social media posts

Notes: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It's very long. I'm graduating in just two weeks, so I've been feeling very nostalgic lately, and this chapter very much reflects that. Val's face claim is Niki Victoria for the sake of consistency. All in all, please enjoy and let me know what you liked about it!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Nine Years Ago, ages 11 & 12

The kart was still smoking faintly when I reached the edge of the track, skidding to a stop just past the barriers. Kimi had ripped off his helmet and sat slumped in the grass, tear tracks already streaking the dirt on his cheeks. His hair stuck to his forehead in damp little curls, and he looked about two seconds from a full meltdown.

“My engine died,” he said, voice breaking halfway through. “It just- it stalled and I couldn’t fix it and I DNF’d the race and-”

“Hey,” I said, crouching in front of him. “Breathe, Kimi. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he sniffled. “I practiced so hard. And I was gonna win. You said I could win.”

“You can win.” I reached out and wiped a smudge of oil off his nose. “Just not today.”

He curled his hands into fists. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” I agreed. “But you’re not done yet.”

He looked up at me through wet lashes, lip wobbling. “What if I never make it?”

I smiled, even though my throat was suddenly tight. “Kimi, I swear on the stars you will. And when you do? I’ll be there. Every race. Every lap. Camera in hand, yelling louder than your entire pit wall.”

His eyes went wide. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I said, tears pricking my own eyes, pinky out. “You race. I’ll shoot. Deal?”

He linked his pinky with mine. “Deal.”

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Present Day

speed bump = Kimi, ollie bearman = Ollie Bearman, that bitch val = Valentina (Val)

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Val was waiting for me at the airport. She's tall, all sharp cheekbones and bright blue eyes, with beautiful curls that live in a perpetual state of artful chaos. She’s got the kind of style that looks effortlessly put together, even when it’s just thrifted jeans, a cropped tee, and golden hoop earrings.

We met at fourteen, two kids who dreamed too big for their school and the nuns who ran it.

Val was the new girl from Florence with clean blue nail polish and dreams of being a model. I was the girl with a camera instead of friends, always in the back of the classroom documenting shadows and corners and silence.

We were on a class trip when I asked if I could take a picture of her for the first time. I posed her, set up my angle, and got the shot. It was my first photo I was truly happy with since leaving Kimi.

When I showed Val the shot, she gripped my arm and told me I was the only one who made her look like her.

We’ve stuck together ever since.

She speaks with her hands, her heart, and absolutely no filter. One minute she’s dramatically reenacting a conversation with the cute barista at the cafe, the next she’s waxing poetic about the symbolism in a street mural or why that particular pigeon seems to be giving her attitude. There’s always a snack in her bag, a book with a cracked spine, and at least three bandages for other people’s blisters.

I told her how I loved motorsports, but stopped when Kimi went to the academy. I showed her the pictures I had taken, a year old at that point, and then newer pictures of people, landscapes, close-ups, and everything in between.

“You always think you’re photographing people doing something. Driving. Laughing. Walking. But the ones that matter, they’re when the person forgets they’re doing anything at all. It’s the breath between words. The blink after a smile. That’s the truth.”

When we left school, we built our empires. I would photograph for her, she would model for me. Our portfolios grew in tandem. She got her first job with a boutique brand in Milan. I got published in a small arts zine out of Rome. When I landed a travel feature for a new indie magazine, Val came with me to the Amalfi coast, wearing vintage scarves and red lipstick, standing barefoot on sea-slick rocks while I got the shot.

“You make me look like someone worth looking at,” she said once, quiet and serious, as we reviewed the prints in a café booth sticky with sugar.

I laughed. “You always were.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Before you, I just felt… pretty. Now I feel seen.”

And now, here she is, picking me up from the airport, hugging me so tight I lose my breath, already talking a mile a minute about the pasta she made and the barista she may or may not have a crush on but is too stubborn to admit it.

“I missed you,” I say into her hair, which smells like bergamot and sea salt.

She squeezes me tighter. “You left for, like, two weeks.”

“I know,” I say. “Too long.”

She pulls back, squints at me, then grins. “You look pale.”

“You look chaotic.”

“Thank you,” she says proudly. “Now come on. I made pesto. And I want to hear everything.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“So. Kimi sent you Ollie’s number, you texted first, he responded, and then the conversation died.”

“SÌ, basically. I think he might have been busy because he said he was ‘just training’ but I don’t know if I came across as too awkward.” I said, flopping down on her couch. “We haven’t talked outside of Kimi introducing us, so maybe it was too soon?”

Val shrugged her perfectly tan shoulder. “Maybe.”

“You’re supposed to lie and assure me it wasn’t too soon.”

She blinked at me. “Okay, you came off tragically normal. That’s even worse.”

I groaned and threw my arm over my eyes. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” She said, standing up gracefully. “Now come on, you’re back home, and we’re going to the beach. I need fresh air, and you need the sun.”

“I’m not that pale!”

She threw my swimsuit at me.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

I had missed the beach.

By the time we got down to the shore, the sun was bright and the sea was throwing glitter across the surface with every wave. I kicked off my shoes and wandered to the edge of the tide, the sand already cool and damp beneath my feet.

I just stood there, let the breeze get into my hair, let the waves pull at my ankles, let the sun kiss my skin. I could hear Val rustling around behind me, probably laying out her towel like a ritual, probably already monologuing to a seagull.

I turned just in time to see her toss a sun-warmed peach into the air and catch it like she was in a commercial for perfect summer evenings.

“Come on,” she called. “You're allowed to be dramatic, but not that dramatic.”

I laughed, and it felt good, loose and warm in my chest. I jogged back up the shore, collapsing beside her and stealing one of her chips.

“Hey!”

“Friend tax.”

We spent the rest of the day sunbathing and taking pictures. As much as I loved photographing F1, I missed taking photos of Val.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

❤️ liked by kimi.antonelli, valentinavlogs, olliebearman, & others

yourusername back home for a little while with @/valentinavlogs 🐚🩵

view comments

valentinavlogs lookin like a couple of baddies

⤷ yourusername girl what are you talking about 😭

user34 I wish this was my life

⤷ user23 don't we all??

kimi.antonelli come back ollie hasn't stopped asking about you

⤷ olliebearman shut up, kimi

❤️ liked by author

user80 will she be at the next race?

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Five Years Ago, ages 13 & 15

It was late.

Too late for the track to still be echoing in his head, but I could see it in the way he sat on the curb- hunched over, hands loose between his knees, helmet abandoned beside him like it’d said something mean. The kart was parked a few feet away, half-loaded onto the trailer, the last stragglers from the paddock already packing up and heading out.

I sat down next to him, not saying anything at first. Just breathed in the warm, dusty air, the scent of engine grease and old asphalt.

He didn’t look at me. Just said, flatly, “I was shit today.”

“You weren’t.”

“I was. I spun out. I missed the apexes. I didn’t listen.” He ran both hands through his hair, frustrated. “Everyone saw it. They always see it. Every mistake, every second too slow-”

“Kimi.”

He kept going like I hadn’t spoken. “And I can’t keep up. Not with the guys the scouts are watching. Not if I keep messing it up every time it counts. Maybe I’m not- maybe I’m not cut out for it.”

“Andrea.” I touched his arm. “Look at me.”

He did, eventually. Eyes bright and wet in the glow from the nearest overhead light, jaw tight with everything he couldn’t say out loud.

“You are not your lap time,” I said gently. “You are not your placing or your telemetry data or how many people are looking at you. You are the kid who listens. Who learns. Who takes everything people throw at him and actually gets better. That’s rare, Kimi.”

He sniffled, quietly. “Doesn’t feel like enough.”

I tilted my head, nudged my shoulder into his. “You want to be perfect. But you don’t need to be. The ones who last? They take the hits, take the lessons, and come back swinging. You already do that.”

He picked at a loose thread on his race suit. “You’re always chasing the perfect picture.”

“SÌ, I am. Everyone is chasing perfection fratellino, but all you can do is attempt to be better than your past self. Learn from your mistakes, give yourself grace, and prepare for the next round.”

He didn’t say anything, so I looked up, out, into the vast stretch of stars overhead, and said, “You know what I think about sometimes?”

He glanced at me. “…What?”

“How lucky it is. That we’re on the same planet. In the same moment in time. Under this same sky.” I gave him a small smile. “Like, out of every possible version of the universe, we ended up in this one. Where I get to know you. Be here with you.”

Kimi blinked. “That’s weirdly comforting.”

I shrugged. “We’re small. But we’re not alone.”

He leaned against me then. Just a little. Not enough to crush me with shoulder pads or helmet hair, but enough that I could feel him start to breathe normally again.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“Always,” I whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere, Kimi. And even when I’m not beside you we are still under the same sky, remember?”

He looked up, lips twitching into something soft and tired and real. “Same sky.”

prev • masterpost • next

[luckyroll3]

Unexpected Masterlist

Summary: In the vibrant city of Miami, two worlds collide in the most unexpected of ways. Mia Sharpe, a successful 42-year-old marketing executive, finds herself at a crossroads in her life. Despite her professional success, Mia feels an inexplicable void that her career and single life have not filled. Her life takes an unexpected turn when she gifts her niece VIP tickets to a Stray Kids concert. Although she knows nothing about the group, she accompanies her niece and is captivated by Stray Kids' charismatic leader, Bang Chan.

Chan, a self-professed fuck boy at the peak of his career, is looking for his next fling. After spotting Mia at the concert, followed by an unexpected chance encounter, he falls hard. The two kick off a whirlwind romance, despite the age difference and the distaste they both have for serious relationships and their lack faith in ‘love’. As their bond deepens, Mia and Chan navigate the complexities of their vastly different realities and whether they are right for each other.

Fuck Boy Bang Chan x original character (f); Fling, Smut

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, rough sex, graphic language, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Updates posted weekly on Saturdays and Sundays.

Chapter 1: God's Menu

Chapter 2: I Saw Sparks

Chapter 3: Nothing But a Number

Chapter 4: Come Back to Earth

Chapter 5: Hate to Admit It

Chapter 6: Curious

Chapter 7: A Miseducation

Chapter 8: Just Running Across My Mind

Chapter 9: Tell Me What You Want

Chapter 10: Questioning, Wavering, Weakening

Chapter 11: Just Can't Control It

Chapter 12: Next to You

Chapter 13: Can't Leave You Alone

Chapter 14: Want You So Bad

Chapter 15: Making Love Until We Drown

Chapter 16: Magnetic

Chapter 17: Face Down, Ass Up

Chapter 18: A Little Less Conversation

Chapter 19: You're Everything

Chapter 20: Don't it Feel Good

Chapter 21: Trouble, Trouble, Trouble

Chapter 22: Fallin' to Pieces

Chapter 23: What it Takes

Chapter 24: Yeah... We Crash

Chapter 25: I Can't Control the Feeling

Chapter 26: Something That We're Not

Chapter 27:

Chapter 28:

Chapter 29:

Chapter 30:

Chapter 31:

Chapter 32:

Chapter 33:

Chapter 34:

Chapter 35:

My Masterlist

[bricky-brikson]

Thinking about the "trilion and 12 years old" joke about Bill and thinking about his psychological development after the Euclydia massacre

In the show, we see that while he can plan ahead and manipulate people, he's often foiled by his own impulsiveness/anger/emotions. His ultimate goal is to escape the Nightmare Realm/Dimension 0. And sure, he says this is because he promised the Henchmaniacs he'd help them, but ultimately as others have pointed out, Bill is terrified of death. He wants to live forever - have "a party that never ends with a host who never dies". All he cares about is himself, his own survival and hedonism

All this to say, Bill has the emotional development of a teen. He hasn't gotten past the self-centredness nor the reward/adrenaline seeking behaviour, but has emotionally evolved enough to be able to manipulate people and such (and be able to feel guilt, even if it's just a picogram). Though his immaturity shows when he doesn't get his way.

One might think that, being a trillion years old, he would've developed a bit, but here's the thing - major traumas can "freeze" people at certain developmental stages. We don't know how old Bill was when Euclydia was destroyed - though considering his behaviour I would bet he was a teen.

(Or whatever the equivalent of that stage is for his species. They have exoskeletons- do they have instars then? Whatever, that's not on the topic of this post)

Seeing his entire dimension destroyed after (what was probably) a well-intentioned attempt to show them what he saw ("They'll see. They'll all see.") permanently emotionally stunted him. However it was he got his powers, he was a teen/young adult with powerful abilities who had just erased an entire dimension from existence and was now accountable to no one but himself while also being deeply traumatized. His constant partying and implied substance use were probably the only coping mechanisms he could think of, dissociating because he has no idea how to actually confront what happened. The way he talks about the massacre - he detaches himself from it yet still admits guilt ("A monster."). Only post-divorce does he implicate himself in the event, though still obscuring its true nature ("I liberated them.").

Being surrounded by individuals who are similarly maladjusted for most of his trillion-year lifespan certainly didn't help things. The Henchmaniacs are likely somewhat stunted as well, or at the very least don't offer much in the way of mature/emotionally adult conversation, especially since Bill reacts so poorly (read: homocidally) to any sense of malcontent.

Which is to say, I think part of why Ford was important to Bill was because, compared to him, Ford was more emotionally developed (Ford is emotionally stunted in his own ways, but not as severely as Bill IMO). Subconsciously, their relationship was reaching a hand out to the scared teenager in the centre of Bill's psyche and offering him someone to lean on- someone who had their shit a little bit more figured out. A kind of figure Bill hadn't had since he killed his parents.

Of course, such vulnerability probably felt so alien that Bill tried to distance himself. I always wondered - why didn't Bill just lie to Ford about his plan to take over Dimension 49'\ ? Ford would've believed him, finished the portal, and Bill's plan would've been fulfilled. Well, I think it was Bill trying to burn the emotional bridge. In his own impulsivity, his own desire to dissociate instead of confront, he would rather make sure that he would never be able to be vulnerable to Ford than fulfill his grand plan.

...

I don't remember where I was going with this. There's no conclusion. I'm spinning this triangular multidimensional tyrant at physically impossible speeds in my mind and if I didn't write something about him my skull was going to turn into a fine powder. It's almost 2 AM, so it's entirely possible this post makes 0 sense, in which case feel free to inform me of that in the notes.

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.12 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. We Can Be Pirates by @cowboilikeme [E, 356k]

Draco Malfoy grew up during the summer of '94 and Harry Potter is a sucker for forgiving people.

2. Oxytocin by WouldItWere [E, 179k]

Draco Malfoy cannot sleep. If he keeps going like this, he will go mad, or die, or both. For some reason, though, he can sleep whenever Harry Potter is with him. And Harry Potter is nothing if not a helper to those in need.

3. Need You by @youhavemyswordandmybow [E, 114k]

Going back to school has been good for Harry. He’s enjoying it this time around, actually learning, rather than fighting for his life. Of course, there’s a few things that are keeping him occupied. One of them is blonde, insufferable and wears really nice clothes. The other one is also blonde, and is definitely dead. No matter, at least he hasn’t done anything stupid - like bonded his entire life to a certain someone who he absolutely had no need to bond himself to …

4. Lost Memories by celestine80 [M, 105k]

Harry is tired of being enemies with Draco. He has more important things to worry about. The most pressing of those being his real enemy, Voldemort, who is now at large. And then Draco starts acting suspicious and Harry wants to know the truth. He always tries to believe the best in people, but Harry is starting to wonder if there is any good left in Draco at all.

5. the keys you keep by @venrain [M, 105k]

Months after Harry is promoted to Head of Magical Law Enforcement, tragedy strikes. Cursed, Harry blames himself and flees to the States. And he's doing fine; really, he's having a grand time hiding from the world, drinking himself into a stupor, and losing himself in west Manhattan. Then, he stumbles into a lounge bar.

6. Through The Dark by @adam-my-adam [E, 100k]

Draco refuses to return to Hogwarts for his eighth year. Harry finds himself disappointed. Guess they will just go their separate paths and never figure out their connection. Draco will never learn his self worth or make a potion to help his mother, and virgin Harry will never learn the joys of making love. And neither will learn that there is life after Voldemort. Or maybe fate crosses their paths and Harry somehow, with help from an unexpected source, wiggles his way into Malfoy's private Potion sessions?

7. Want for Nothing by @syrahbat [M, 79k]

After his wife Astoria dies at the hands of a blood curse, Draco Malfoy falls under investigation; except the Auror assigned to his case is Harry Potter, and Harry Potter has a very different opinion of Draco than everybody else, including Draco himself.

8. The Light and Dark Inside of Us by MaryWinchester [M, 64k]

Harry and Draco overhear a conversation they probably shouldn't have. Afterward, nothing is the same.

9. Queen of the Weeds by @beloved-child-of-the-house [E, 61k]

[...] Draco returns to Hogwarts for 8th year and finds himself a pariah. To his surprise, Harry Potter is the only person who seems to want anything to do with him.

10. Heatwaves by KateBishopHawkeye [E, 58k]

Summer, 12 years after the war. It was not the worst heatwave in London's history, but Hermione and Harry would be damned if it didn't feel like it. Especially in 12 Grimmauld Place, where four unlikely housemates find things heating up in unexpected ways amid old hurts and new threats.

※ HONOURABLE MENTIONS :

11. Is It Really So Strange? by @fantasticelement [E, 56k]

Harry Potter left everything behind just to teach a bunch of kids — but so did Draco Malfoy. /// A story about rebuilding a school, and rebuilding a bond that, for better or worse, never dimmed.

12. In the Woods Somewhere by @dracopetal [E, 54k]

Draco can't remember what the world was like before Fenrir took him. His life is the cabin and the woods that surround it. But one night in winter, Fenrir kidnaps a man he calls an old enemy, and Draco's life is forever changed.

13. The Theory of Fading by Antisceptic [M, 53k]

Ten years after the end of the war Harry decides to get the scar on his forehead removed. The only person capable of doing that is a brilliant alchemist from France, who publishes his research under an alias. His real name turns out to be Draco Malfoy. They navigate the situation quite poorly.

14. The Witch and the Sorcerer by burningcherries [E, 50k]

The days of the great wand-wielding wizards are long gone, but under the protection of Rome's growing empire, magic hasn't entirely faded away. All humans have it, but only one type. [...] Harry, a recently widowed sorcerer, leaves his hometown with his children and his wixen friends in the hope of finding a witch available for mating further north.

15. In A Hundred Lifetimes by nooraska [M, 41k]

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are destined to meet in any version of reality. Or: Draco is weird and Harry doesn't know why but feels drawn to him anyway.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

because my love is mine, all mine by @sachesky [E, 23k]

javelin (to have and to hold) by @garagepaperback [E, 18k]

The Loved Ones by Toffeemond [E, 24k]

Ride by @eurhythmix [M, 37k]

Something about dragons by @bakuko [E, 32k] --- translated by martir

Under Your Spell by SairleB [E, 23k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

25 Days of Draco and Harry 2024 | @slythindor100

H/D Erised 2024 | @hd-erised

Harry/Draco Owlpost 2024 | @hdowlpost

HP Soulmates Secret Santa 2024 | @hp-soulmates-secret-santa (1)

DCC Holiday Exchange

dual/ity (1)

Fifth Annual Dirty Festivus: Filthy and F*ckable (1)

Frond Flash Fic Fest (1)

HP Secret Santa 2024 (1)

Let it Snow - Quill Quests! (1)

Magical Menagerie Gift Exchange 2024 (1)

[saiscribbles]

[Original Post]

So Lily decided to just send herself an anon ask rather than address my criticisms directly. You know like a coward lol.

So anyway: (1) Doubling down on the Diamonds being Nazis. (2) Joking about the stars Jewish people were forced to wear during the Holocaust. (3) The show is about communication, Lily, not forgiveness. (4) Show me where Spinel is even metaphorically suicidal, but you'd have to actually watch the movie for that. (5) I think you meant "she was" and no she wasn't. (6) It's "sarcasm" to just mislead your fans about the climax of the movie by claiming Steven backed Spinel down with "mind control powers"?

(7) And it was "sarcasm" to just make a bunch of gay conversion therapy jokes about a lesbian character for absolutely no reason? (8) Was it a joke Lily? Cause you said "if you read all the interviews the Gems are based on the Asari" (9) It isn't semantics you outright baselessly speculated in your Garbage video that Nikki Minaj didn't return to voice Sugilite because "someone was pissed".

(10) It's not an opinion to claim a character that's obviously a post-it note doodle was a "scrapped character". Or was that the semantics part? I think you lost your place there, Lily.

(11) Just lying again. Completely denying the homophobia that was surrounding getting Ruby and Sapphire's wedding to air. Sugar told this story herself you just claimed you "don't believe a word that comes out of her mouth".

(12) You said Steven tried to marry his "12 year old girlfriend" in Future. (13) There's no such analogy, you're the one reading rape into a children's show. (14) The Human Zoo is based on classic 70's science fiction films such as THX and Logan's Run. You're just an uncultured ignoramus who holds a huge amount of ire for a children's show about perspectives, communication and gay space rocks.

I'm not bothering with the rest cause Lily added extra to her self anon. But there was this last bit:

Lily's new claim is she only mentions SU once or twice a year. Or once every couple of years. Depending on the day. Either way... Does she just forget what she talks about in videos or is she really so stupid she thinks no one can fact check her?

And this was just at a lazy glance, I probably missed some.

[astrolook]

Your Birth Chart : The Cosmic GPS of Your Life.

It’s like your zodiac sign, but with a lot more feelings and less meme potential.

Forgot to tell you that even though I do birth chart readings on both Western and Vedic astrology, I prefer Vedic astrology more as my grandfather is a professional vedic astrologer for 30 years. I used to sit with him and watch him do readings for others whenever I visit him. Hello is 87 now and doesn't do readings anymore. I got his notes and it helped me greatly in the past 6 years.

Lemme me walk you through what you can learn from these 12 houses. If you wanted a complete reading or any other readings that I listed on my pinned post, just leave me a message.

House 1 : Welcome to your personal reality show—where you’re the star, the drama, and the plot twist!

Your "Hello, world!" moment. It's where your true self struts onto the stage, whether you're ready or not. It's the place that says, "This is me, deal with it!" And if you’re ever wondering how people see you? This house is your answer, no filter. This is your ascendant too.

House 2 : Where your self-worth meets your shopping cart—hope you’ve got a coupon!

House 2 is your personal treasure chest—money, possessions, and all the stuff you think defines you. It's where your relationship with your bank account, your snacks, and your comfy socks lives. Basically, it’s the house that says, "I’m worth it," and also, "But can I afford that?"

House 3: The Sibling Saga & Chatty Hour - Where gossip meets the road, and your brain decides to overthink EVERYTHING!

House 3 in astrology is basically the spot in your birth chart where all the “I’m just trying to have a conversation” moments happen. It’s ruled by Gemini and is the domain of communication, learning, and short trips—so if you’re wondering why you can’t stop texting your best friend at 3 AM or taking random detours on your way to work, House 3 has you covered.

House 3 is your brain's best (and most chaotic) playground. It’s also the house of short-term learning, so if you’re ever in the middle of a random Google rabbit hole, House 3 is the culprit, encouraging your brain to soak in everything from useless trivia to “who really invented the potato chip” debates.

In short, it’s the house where your inner chatterbox lives, loves, and sometimes gets stuck on repeat.

House 4: Where your roots are buried… along with your childhood trauma and that one dusty old sweater!

the cozy little nook of the zodiac where everything feels like home—whether it’s a warm hug or a crazy family reunion you didn’t RSVP for. Ruled by Cancer, house 4 is here to make sure you never forget that emotional baggage is always just a basement away.

House 5: The Drama Queen & Funhouse - Where your inner child throws a tantrum… or starts a talent show!

The house of fun, creativity, and—let’s be real—drama. Ruled by Leo, this is the cosmic playground where your inner performer, artist, and party animal live in perfect harmony. It’s where you go to express yourself, whether that means blasting your favorite song and dancing around the house or making your friends watch your latest TikTok masterpiece. Totally casual.

This house is also the domain of romance and pleasure, so it’s where all your crushes get way too much attention, and where every date feels like the season finale of a reality show. It's where you shine, baby—whether you're on a stage, in the spotlight, or just wearing a ridiculously fabulous outfit to the grocery store.

House 5 is also the place for children, your inner child and so on. Ready for your next adventure? Grab some popcorn, because this house is always ready for a show!

House 6: The "I Need a Nap and a Salad" Zone - Where productivity meets exhaustion, and your inner Virgo becomes the office manager of your life!

The house of work, health, and routines. It’s ruled by Virgo, so if you find yourself obsessing over every tiny detail of your daily life—whether it’s your diet, your work schedule, or whether your socks are perfectly matched—House 6 has got you covered. This is where you turn into a tiny, stressed-out robot who lives on coffee and occasionally remembers to stretch (but only after your back hurts).

House 6 is all about getting things done (or at least pretending you’re getting things done). It’s the zone where you manage your day-to-day tasks, juggle responsibilities like a circus performer, and try not to spiral into a mini existential crisis about how you still haven’t taken that 5-minute walk your fitness tracker recommended.

It’s also the house that deals with health, so it’s like your personal doctor, nutritionist, and gym coach all rolled into one—except you may not listen to any of them. There’s also a little “nervous energy” vibe here, so if you find yourself reorganizing your entire closet to avoid confronting your to-do list, yep, you guessed it, that’s House 6 in action.

House 7: The Relationship Rollercoaster - Where 'we need to talk' happens… about everything.

House 7 is all about partnerships, whether that’s romantic, business, or that friend who’s always late to everything. Ruled by Libra, it’s where you seek balance, harmony, and—let’s be real—sometimes, a little drama.

From marriage to bestie bonds, this house is where you sign contracts, have deep convos, and occasionally argue over who left the dishes out. It’s the "mirror" of your life, reflecting what you need (or think you need) in others. Time to pair up!

House 8: The Shady Transformation Zone - Where your secrets, taxes, and weirdest fantasies meet in the dark.

House 8 is the house of transformation, shared resources, and all the things you’d rather not talk about at family gatherings—like your finances, intimacy, or that one "crazy" ex who still wants to know how you’re doing.

Ruled by Scorpio, it’s where you dig into the depths of life, confront your fears, and, let’s face it, probably do some questionable stuff just to feel “alive.” Need a makeover? House 8’s got you. Just… don’t ask where the skeletons are hidden.

House 9: The Adventure Time Zone - Where your wanderlust, philosophy, and Google searches for 'how to get a PhD in 10 days' collide.

House 9 is all about expanding your mind, seeking truth, and hopping on a plane to somewhere you can’t pronounce. Ruled by Sagittarius, this house fuels your love for travel, higher education, and big-picture thinking. It’s where you get super philosophical at 3 AM or book a spontaneous trip to Bali after watching one YouTube video.

Dream big, travel far, and occasionally forget where you parked your car while contemplating the meaning of life. Who needs direction when you have House 9's wisdom... and a passport?

House 10: The "Look at Me Now!" Zone - Where your career, reputation, and obsession with Instagram followers collide!

House 10 is all about your public image, ambitions, and how you climb the metaphorical (or literal) ladder of success. Ruled by Capricorn, this is the place where you think about your legacy—so, no pressure. It’s where you put on your “I’ve got it all together” face, whether you're leading a meeting or pretending to know how to use Excel. Dream big, because House 10 is where you’re destined to shine—if you can just figure out how to make it happen without burning out. Work hard, play hard… but mostly work hard.

House 11: The "Squad Goals" & Dream Team - Where your weirdest friends, group chats, and life plans to take over the world live.

House 11 is all about friendships, social circles, and big dreams—basically, the place where your “hype squad” gathers to discuss how you’re going to revolutionize the world with memes. Ruled by Aquarius, it’s where you seek belonging and come up with those grand, slightly questionable ideas, like starting a podcast about your cat’s philosophical views or forming a band… with only two members.

This house is the cosmic hangout spot, so if you’re always texting your crew about your next spontaneous group adventure, House 11 is like, “Yep, we got this.” Just make sure your crew doesn’t get too weird, or, well, you might end up starting a cult.

House 12: The Cosmic Underworld - Where your secrets, self-sabotage, and unresolved issues go to throw a party.

House 12 is the house of the subconscious, hidden things, and stuff you really don’t want to deal with—like your existential dread, past life drama, and the weird dreams you wake up from, wondering if you’re secretly a superhero.

Ruled by Pisces, this house is where you process all the stuff you’ve been avoiding. It's a bit of a cosmic junk drawer, full of mystery, spirituality, and oops, did I really just do that? moments. It’s your personal therapy session, except you might accidentally cry in public about something totally random. House 12 is where you go to confront your inner mess—just don’t be surprised if you need a nap after.

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What would your broken heart feel about your nuptial union ? (18+)

PILE 3 

SONG : Georgia on My mind - Ray Charles

2 wands, World, 3 cups (reverse), Emperor (reverse) 

Y’all ate your 12 red grapes under the table this year. 

The reading is you take down your wedding day hairstyle while your husband is setting up the room (whatever that means …) and you look at the mirror, there's a flash of your older self. 

(You are caressing your wedding ring.) 

I was pissed when they brought him back into my life again. When I ate the 12 red grapes we had just broken up … I know I am the one who decided to end things because I could not handle the purity of his love. Yes I know it was probably a very bitchy move to eat the grape under the table but I thought that maybe with someone else I would be able to open my heart more easily. I was so scared to break him. I’ve been broken so many times before. I did not want to be the reason that turn him into an helpless in love like the loser that I am. Maybe it is the red string theory or maybe it is the karma because I try to play in the Universe face but here I am proudly married to my first and last love. Is all thanks to him. He came back into my life, while I was starting to date around (tears of disappointment are making their way on your cheeks. You are so disappointed that you almost fall into an old cycle because you could not handle the goodness of his love) again. Can’t believe  I told him to wait his turn. Can't believe I told him that he was not  the only one. Can't believe I told him that it will pass. People always love me before I become too much and other times I destroy it  myself before it can destroy me. In all seriousness, I think I first ran away because I was scared of the pain that was going to come when it would all fell apart, like it usually does. How fucked of me to think so lowly of our union at first ? My sweet boy used to text me when drunk just to tell me how much loved me. How much he loved my brown skin, my curly hair and my curves and if he could he would ditch his boys and come hug me or just stare at me but he knows I need space and space is essential in a relationship. My sweet boy would ask anybody walking our way to take a picture of both of us so that if anything happens to him, he will not just remember to love me, but seeing both of us will show us how deeply he cared for me. My sweet boy has a parent with dementia which scar him, so he can't seem to go a day without writing me a letter, taking a picture or telling me ‘’I love u’’ . His words : ‘’ I will never forget to love you. You hear me ( your name), I will  forget how to breathe before I forget you’’. My sensitive baby is always so emotional. Never afraid of letting the tears flow. Always expressing to anyone who wants to hear him how much he loves me even when  the conversation has nothing to do with me ( ME: lol). It was so hard to make my way back into his family and friend group which I understood when I saw him again. He lost weight, he had such huge under eye bags and yet he called my name with much sweetness. I heard from  the grapevine, he drank so much more trying to make it hurt less and his friend would hide his phone because he would try to text me and call me. Which would end up with him sobbing (not u trying to keep it in… Is ok baby …). One day, I allowed him back. He asks for a hug, pleads for it,  promising that after that he would forever leave me alone. If that's what I wanted. I hugged him, cried, he cried, holding on strongly to me while comforting me and I promise myself to never ever let go again. 

(HIM: BABE … BABE … you can come out … I have a surprise for you. You can't answer because you are still crying and you don't want him to worry. HIM : (he knocks) Babe are u ok ? Can I enter ? Talk to me … baby ..; You open the door mascara running) 

Couple days before you let him see you again, you're going to make out with another boy. Claiming you are ready for something new. When the boy will try to make a move on your inner thigh, you will panic. I even think that you will kiss him, a loud voice in your mind will remind you how wrong it is. Also you are an amazing kisser but babe this is a very poor performance … I feel bad for the dude making out with you. Too much lips (is that even possible) and too much tongue. 

Your future husband loves kissing your whole body as a form of foreplay. Love caressing you, always checking up on you while sharing the intimate moment with you. Even when his inside you and your eyes are close, he makes sure that you feel good. He always checks your mannerism to make sure he isn't hurting you. Y’all dirty talking is more like love making affirmation. Is it not dirty or degrading, still very sexy but is more emotional than vulgar. 

Y’all were raised in different ways. You both have similar financial background but different parenthood. When I channel him, everything around him is orange and yellow. I can clearly see his friend and I can feel the love of his parents. There's a warmth that radiates from him. Also he grew up seeing his parents very much in love. The fact that their love survives the illness of one of them is like an ultimate confirmation that he wants the same for himself. He always wanted marriage, the house, kids and dogs, let's not forget the close group of friends. It will not surprise me if in one of his graduation speeches he commented, only really caring  about finding a wife. On your side is a light cold blue. Maybe your childhood bedroom was painted blue. The house is cold, so you may enjoy staying by yourself. Side note : U is very pretty. I know you may be tired of hearing that but babe your beauty is too strong for me to just move on. Actually for anyone to move on. Anyways back on track, your parents were never home busy with their career. Like you grew up on your own, no noise, lonely silence. Still very financially stable. Is not like they're working to keep a roof over your head. I think they told you multiple times in some way shape or form  that their career is more important than you. 

[thethiefandtheairbender]

and ngl although it's only happened to me one (1) time, i think, In General, people have a tendency to jump to "you're using your [insert neurodivergency here] as an excuse" too quickly because 1) it immediately absolves them of having to make any effort and 2) it's what society also defaults to and reinforces time and time again, even just from an internalized standpoint: when you say you can't, you really just mean you don't want to. if you were trying harder, your neurodiversity wouldn't be noticeable and/or a problem.

like i have a friend i've been best friends with since we were 12, and she only got an adhd diagnosis when she was 26. in our 14 years of friendship, she is routinely 40 minutes to 1 hour late to just about every social event we've ever planned with minimal exceptions. and while it was evident to me in late high school that she probably had adhd due to her experiences, we didn't know for sure. and with or without a Reason to explain her perpetual lateness, i could've gotten pissed at her for it on the basis of it being 'annoying' or 'disrespectful'. our teachers and others like her mom definitely did. instead, my friend group did our best to plan things where the starting time didn't have to be set in stone as much as possible (i.e let's meet up early at a friend's house and then go to the movies a couple hours later, etc) to make things easier for her. because, as many of you know, it's not fun being late all the time and it's stressful as hell, and if we could mitigate that — if we could accommodate her as a bunch of 12-17 year olds without really know why we needed to — why wouldn't we?

alternatively: another best friend i met in university and my partner are two people who also have adhd, and they don't have visible timeblindness (lateness) at all. that doesn't mean it's not there, i do see my partner sometimes self-regulate to not be late and/or they will be a little, marginally, late to things. that doesn't mean either of them are trying harder than my childhood friend, and that doesn't mean neither of them struggle with timeblindness either because they both do, just that they're better at passing off their masking or management as neurotypical, and i'd be an asshole if i punished my childhood friend for not being able to do so when i know she's trying so hard all the time to make her tardiness 1 hour and not 2-3.

and this is true for all neurodivergencies. another childhood friend has moral ocd and is the sweetest, kindest person i know, but that doesn't mean i'm going to just flat out dismiss her concerns instead of gently walking her through them and offering any reassurance / meaningful disruption in thought pattern that i can. or another friend where we're not sure what they have, but it's possibly autism, and they on a semi-regular basis need to have jokes explained to them because it's not clicking in their head 1) what joke is or 2) why people would find it funny. it does not matter how many potential patterns they could detect to reverse-engineer what other people are probably gonna find funny or how much they want to understand, it cannot and will not click for them on their own in the moment.

or even for me. for years and years i potentially muddled through social interactions without even realizing because i wasn't picking up on social cues that told me i was to know either way, and dismissed the possibility i could have autism because surely the way i 'struggled' with social interactions (tone, conversational subtext, etc) wasn't that bad and/or everyone struggled this much or if i tried harder i wouldn't struggle at all, Surely. i did not want the diagnosis because i was worried if i told anyone or went "hey, [insert thing here like food touching or tone reading or sudden routine disruption regulation] is hard for me because of my autism," i'd be told i was making excuses and would be dismissed. it felt far safer to not have any reason or explanation to point to and just keep my mouth shut or entirely internalize blame for anyone who got pissy at me for it.

and instead all of the meaningful friendships i've had went "oh that makes a lot of sense, thank you for letting me know, let's find a way to work through it together". not that there's never issues or problems to resolve, but that it's a communicative, collaborative process of figuring it out together in all things. everyone's autism and adhd or neurodiversity (npd, bdp, etc) is going to present differently, and sometimes you'll have competing needs (sensory, emotional, etc) but, if you're both willing to work at it, you can often times find a beautiful middle road. i believe it and i've seen it time and time again for myself and for my friends' needs.

because at the end of the day, i'm grateful for my friends, neurodivergent or not, who accommodated me throughout our time together without realizing why they needed to, and/or we were willing to actively work with me to figure stuff out once we knew what the hell was going on.

accommodation and compassion in all ways (because of neurodiversity or not) requires effort and emotional intelligence, and so does a healthy friendship. at our bests, we find each other to create havens from the unfeeling and ableist societies we're raised in — to say yes, maybe you've come this far without it, but you deserve help because you don't deserve to struggle or suffer, so thank you for asking me for it — and idk. i think that's a beautiful thing

[amgk22]

HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI

How would the victors react to a new victor/ super young victor?

how the victors would react to a 12 year old gn!victor

Note: this is a different lineup than my usual characters!! :)

Lucy Gray would be impressed by how you won, and be a bit protective over you, like she is over Maude Ivory.

Mags would act like a mother to you, treating you how you should at Capitol events. She wants every Victor to know that they’re cared about and loved, and you’re another one of them.

Woof would try his best to be caring and understanding, but he isn’t the best with the ‘youngins’, as he says. You’d either have a grandpa and grandchild dynamic, or he’d forget your name after a day.

Seeder would give you advice on how to cope with your victory, as she was once a girl who learned to cope without drugs. She’d also be very polite, treating you like an equal.

Beetee and Wiress would both be upset that 23 people died and you lived, but they’d try not to get you involved in the injustice of the games. They’d give you some wisdom about the games as well.

Porter would try to ignore you, seeing it as another symbol of the Games, and not want to get involved with someone who would eventually die like many others before.

Brutus wouldn’t sugar coat anything to you. He’d give it to you straight on how life is gonna go for now. It may be brutal, but he wants the best.

Chaff would try not to talk about the games, instead making an honest effort to make you laugh. Any trauma you have, he’d overlook- not because of him not caring, but because he doesn’t want to talk about the games.

Haymitch would ignore you, probably taking a drink instead of talking to you. However, if you talked to him, he’d respond and give you a drink, saying it’s your introduction to the Capitol.

Cecelia would act similar to Mags, treating you like her child and protecting you from any harm that the Capitol may want. She might be a bit possessive, not wanting you to go into contact with the other more brutal victors, but she wants the best for you.

Enobaria would definitely rant to you about the unfairness of the games. If you agreed, you’re now her best friend.

Gloss and Cashmere would compliment how cute you look, but also worry that you might get into bad situations. They’d ask you about your family, and show you how to balance a knife in your hand to make you laugh.

Finnick would be good at starting conversation with you, but he’d also be a bit self centered at first, liking to tell you about how he won. Once you told him how old you were, he’d be a bit upset that the title of youngest Victor was gone from him, but then would be worried about how you’d be treated by the Capitol.

Augustus would brag about himself, not wanting to hear about you at all. If you talked about your trauma, he’d brush it off and tell you to ‘lighten up’.

Annie would try and talk to you and comfort you about the games, but she might get triggered. She’d play with your hair, and wish that if she had a child, it would look like you.

Johanna would be very blunt and sarcastic with you, but also have a slight part of her that cares about you. She’d teach you self defence, and threaten Snow if he ever tried to hurt you or anyone else.