#drought therapy

[cairafea]

got caught up with the hnk countdown twitter account today and the panel where bortz tells dia that they don't care about fighting and like raising jellyfish better is still the funniest panel of the manga

[gummy22]

If you don’t mind I’m just gonna spill my guts about Fionna and Cake and how much it means to me, you’ve been warned lol.

To say I’ve been wanting this show for years would be an understatement. I remember watching adventure time as a kid and seeing these guys on trailers for the brand new episode. I remember watching it when it aired on tv. I remember so desperately wanting to see more.

And then the episode with marshal came out. I thought it was the coolest thing ever and loved these interpretations of the characters. Also in general adventure time has inspired me creatively, and I know many artists share the same sentiment. I remember going to a book fair in middle school and immediately begging my mom for a comic with them. (I still have that comic and read it from time to time.) A couple years go by and it’s still my favorite part of adventure time, every time I rewatched a few episodes I found myself going back to these episodes specifically.

I thought it would always just be a wish I would never see get fulfilled. They were just gender-bends of the original characters, they already made adventure time what would be the point of just slapping a new coat of paint on it? Despite accepting my reality it is always something I hope for.

You could not imagine my excitement when I saw the promo for it on Twitter. A series of Fionna and Cake. A series of them. Characters I had loved since I was a kid.

The series had been out for at least a week before me and my partner had time to watch it, and it was as if all the problems I had been dealing with as a young adult were being displayed on screen. I knew I was already attached to these characters, but the beautiful story they had made out of everything got me even more attached. I cried so much, it was like seeing old childhood friends all grown up. It was an answer to problems I thought were hopeless. Without getting too personal my life would have been a whole lot worse if it wasn’t for this series.

I know it’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, and with media nobody truly gets the same message or idea. But if I could cram together all the beautiful answers and lessons this show gave me in, it’s that life isn’t perfect and it’s what you make of it. And I know that seems simply or corny, but many people seem to forget that life is not just about your successes or good moments, and if you constantly try to think otherwise you will just be more miserable.

You have every right to be miserable…but you also have every right to get better and try your best at a good life. It’s going to take work, but you will find people there for you, you just have to put your trust into it too. We are all in this together and we are constantly fighting, so why not make this battle a bit easier?

You’re doing great, whoever and where ever you are, just please…don’t give up, there’s a whole life you deserve to live.

[w-i-m-m]

[quenthel]

like man... im glad im a lesbian bc maybe i will find a gf eventually and i will grow old w her so i can experience an old woman's love at least once in my fucking life... bc i sure as fuck did not have a single grandma...

[heretic-altias]

Feel like my blog is slowly shifting from ‘mostly ffxiv blog’ to ‘ffxiv and also Minecraft blog’ bc I just kinda do whatever I want and Minecraft is a lot of what I want to do too, especially as I’ve started making mods for it XD

Both are always tagged though so like if you’re someone who totally loathes one you can always use filters lol.

[justashana]

While going through droughts of hyperfixation, the idea of Star wars and MTMTE crossing over has rotted my brain.

Like imagine with me, the Lost Light malfunctioning while entering an atmosphere in Coruscant. The shenanigans that would ensue would be fantastic.

Maybe the Republic is apart of the whole Galactic alliance, and is incredibly confused as to why a bunch of Cybertronians are just in Coruscant. They’d probably have to stay in the Jedi Temple for an act of sanctuary because of the power of the Jedi counting as a religion.

Brainstorms reaction to a lightsaber, Perceptor’s reactions to the clones existence, Drift teaching the padawan or knights some sick new moves, Rung appalled at the lack of ANY therapy and the fact that they’re sending literal children into war as commanders.

Megatron having a moment™️ because wow this whole war with the Separatists and the Republic are giving Peepaw his war flashbacks, and wow that Palpatine does not give the best vibes.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 2: Story Of My Life]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, cryptic song lyrics, tattoos, motorcycles, pretentious veganism, the return of the Cookie Monster pajama pants.

Selected Chapter Quote: “I’m not interested in therapy. But I’m somewhat interested in you.”

Word count: 6.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @tclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Under the stars, under the canopy of incandescent string lights, you tilt a Salty Dog against your lips: clinking ice, rosemary, a wedge of grapefruit, salt on the rim. The indigo wind raises goosebumps on your arms. From the speakers flow notes muffled by car horns and ambient conversation: Coldplay, Life In Technicolor ii. The Missouri River is a snake in the distance, twisting and glimmering, silver scales built of reflected moonlight. It is one year before you fly to Rome. It is the prologue of a book you never thought you’d write.

“I hope you’re not cheating on anybody,” you say to Aegon. Your voice has that drowsy, unguarded honestly that follows good sex with someone you might have the capacity to love under the right circumstances. His does too.

Aegon snorts and shakes his head. There is sunburn on his cheeks like a stain of spilled wine; summer in the Lower Midwest doesn’t agree with him. It’s too hot, too primal. It’ll bite you if you’re not careful. “No. There’s no one.”

“Is there ever?” you ask. “I remember seeing paparazzi photos of Jace and Luke with their girlfriends, Aemond with Shelby, Cregan with…plentiful, interchangeable Victoria’s Secret models. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you attached to anyone.”

“Look, can I be honest for a second? I mean, I don’t want to offend you. But you seem cool, you seem like you might get it. Can I be real with you?”

“Yeah. Be real, I’d like that.”

“I love what we’re doing right now,” Aegon says. He takes a swig of his Salty Dog, your suggestion. His blond hair, nearly shoulder-length, whips in the night breeze. There’s something about Missouri that feels old, prehistoric almost, and you know because you’ve left it and come back: untamed, unrefined, brown recluses and black bears, copperheads and water moccasins, droughts and floods and tornados, humid and buggy like the earth the dinosaurs knew. “And I loved what I was doing last week in Boston and Philly, and I’ll probably love what I’m doing a few days from now in Houston. But if I knew I had to do it, I wouldn’t love it anymore, you know? That’s just how I am. It’s not a reflection on anyone but me. I can’t handle obligations, commitment, chains. I feel the weight of expectations settling on me and I run.” He rests his chin on his knuckles as he gazes at you like a distant constellation. “I don’t think my worth is determined by who or how I fuck. I don’t think yours is either. I think there are sluts who are angels and virgins who are demons. And I think to believe otherwise is not just archaic or puritanical or ignorant. I think it’s deeply, catastrophically harmful.”

You’re smiling; tears brim in your eyes. “Thank you, Aegon,” you say softly.

He is mystified. “For what?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Coldplay recedes from the speakers. Next—for no less than the fourth time this evening—is the Weeknd’s Starboy. Aegon groans and drums his Salty Dog on the tabletop. “Oh my God, this song again?!”

“They’re obsessed!”

“They really are.”

“It’s for you,” you tease. “You’re the big star. The boy band star. The Starboy.”

He takes your right hand, flattens your palm, and lays it against his chest. Through his t-shirt—Nirvana, grey, short-sleeved, from Target—you can feel muscle, bone, rushing blood. “Starboy,” he tells you, grinning. Then he presses his own palm to your heart, beating calm and slow beneath your dress the color of emeralds. “Stargirl.”

“Oh no. Wrong. I’m definitely a nobody.”

“You’re not,” Aegon says. And then again, to make sure you’ve heard him: “You’re not.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So I only have to talk to two people?” Rhaena says suspiciously, like she’s waiting for you to pull the lever of a trapdoor.

“Exactly.” You take another bite of your carbonara, an Italian invention that would be at home in the Midwest: heavy, cheesy, lots of pork products. “At the meet-and-greet before the show tonight, I want you to pick two people. Just two. And they can be anyone you want. 13-year-old girls, frat boys, soccer moms, grandmas, whoever. And I want you to chat with each of those two people for two minutes. That’s four minutes total. And then you’re done!”

“I’m really done? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Two people, two minutes. I can do that.” Rhaena turns to Luke, who has bits of lasagna all over his shirt and one wayward shred of a noodle in his dark curly hair. “I can do that, right?”

He nods encouragingly. “You can totally do that.”

Aemond is watching; you can see him on the periphery of your vision, short blond hair and a black t-shirt. He wears a lot of black, few accessories, like he’s trying not to be noticed. You look across the table at him. The band is enjoying a late lunch—everyone sleeps in until at least 1 p.m.—on the patio of a restaurant that overlooks the Palatine Hill. Intense midday sunbeams stream, in threads like tinsel on a Christmas tree, through the gaps in the pergola of grapevines, climbing roses, and ivy. In the daylight, Aemond’s scar is jarring—red, wrathful—and his sightless blue dreamscape of a left eye all the more peculiar. He fixes his gaze on you, daring you to flinch away, to be disgusted, to wilt like something parched and dying. You stare steadily back. Aemond sips his white wine, half-smiling, and twirls spaghetti onto his fork. You have white wine too. You keep choosing whatever drinks he does.

“You came all the way to Rome only to order the most basic, fifth-grader version of pasta imaginable?”

“It has marinara sauce,” Aemond replies. “I’m a vegan.”

“Uh oh,” you say. “For health reasons or the environment, or…?”

He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “I just feel that the world has enough suffering in it already without me contributing to the mass torture and execution of sentient beings.”

“Okay. Pretentious.”

Aemond chuckles, covering his mouth with one hand so he can chew his spaghetti with dignity. “What do your parents do in Kansas?”

“Missouri,” you correct, like a reflex.

“I know, it’s so confusing,” Aegon tells him. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses and a salmon-colored tank top that matches his sunburn. “It’s Kansas City, but apparently it’s in Missouri, not Kansas. But there is a different, smaller, much worse Kansas City in actual Kansas.”

“It’s confusing for your little hamster brain,” you say.

Aegon holds up a dark green bottle of olive oil that he’s been drenching his salad with: lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, skinless boneless chicken. “This is healthy, right?”

“Yeah, it’s really good for you. Antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties.”

Jace snickers. “Dude, that has like 100 calories per tablespoon.”

Aegon frowns dejectedly down at his salad. “Fuck.”

Aemond asks you: “So what do your parents do in Missouri?”

“They have a farm just outside the city.”

“Oh. Nice.” Some apprehension now. “What do they raise?”

“Beef cattle.”

The rest of the table bursts out laughing. Aemond’s cheeks—one smooth and pristine, one cut in two by a rust-colored cord of bitter corporal memory like barbed wire—flush pink. He is happy in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time; you can see that in the warmth that glows on the others’ faces. He is alarmingly, breathtakingly beautiful. He has the sort of features that belong carved into marble, in myths, in museums. “I mean…I’m sure they do a great job.”

“You should visit one day. You can help brand the herd.”

“Absolutely,” Aemond quips.

“Nothing gets one’s deepest, darkest revelations flowing like hard labor.”

“I’m not interested in therapy.” He peers around the table for the basket of bread. “Jace, can you pass me some of that?”

Jace picks up a piece of crunchy Italian bread and lobs it through the air. It goes sailing right past Aemond, at least a foot from his fumbling, futile hands.

Aegon is exasperated. “Jace, bruh, you know he’s got no depth perception!”

“It’s fine,” Aemond says quickly, like he wants the conversation to be over.

“It’s not fine.” Aegon stands up and leans across the table to jab his index finger menacingly at Jace. “Have some consideration for anyone besides yourself. Have some fucking respect.”

Jace is more entertained than intimidated. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression that I outrank you now.”

“Yeah. And how’d you get there?” In the uneasy quiet that falls over the table, Aegon—quite tipsy already—lurches inside the restaurant to use their bathroom.

Daeron slides the basket of bread over to Aemond. Luke studies him sympathetically without knowing what to say. So much of what settles in us—accumulating like radiation, cooking malignancies into our bones—are things we cannot speak of. This is the great supposition of therapy. It’s what first inspired Sigmund Freud to get that fateful ball rolling in the latter half of the 1800s, before television or radio or record players, before airplanes, before Alaska or Hawaii were added to the Union.

Criston sighs loudly and stabs at his carne alla pizzaiola. Cregan stares indifferently out over the Palatine Hill: the Palace of Domitian, the House of Tiberius, the Temple of Apollo, ruins of gods and men. He slips a minibar-sized bottle of Absolut Vodka out of his sweatpants, empties it into his San Pellegrino, and gulps it all down. Jace has one arm slung across the back of his girlfriend Baela’s chair. She whispers something to him, clearly irritated. He replies briskly back. They have the look of a couple that has spent more time trying to claw their way back to a good place than they ever spent happy to begin with. Jace steals a glimpse of you, smirking. He turns away as soon as you notice him watching. His arms and chest, visible through his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, are a mosaic of tattoos: the Eiffel tower, cherry blossoms, Christ the Redeemer, an alligator, a pair of dice.

After a few minutes, Aegon returns to the table, noticeably more peppy. He starts collecting everyone’s silverware and piling it on a plate for when the servers clear the table. He sorts the utensils by type—forks, knives, spoons—and then by size.

“What is on your face?” Criston demands.

Aegon feigns innocence. Badly. “Huh? What? Face? Huh?”

“Your face. What the hell is all over your face?”

Aegon touches his fingertips to his nose. They come away dusted with white residue. “Um. Donuts.”

“What?”

“Powdered sugar donuts.”

“That’s what you were doing in the bathroom? Eating donuts?”

“…Yes.”

“Aegon,” Criston says sternly.

“They’re called zeppole here.”

Criston claps his hands together and rises from the table. “Okay, time for soundcheck!”

There are groans and complaints, but the band obeys, mopping stray sauce from their lips with cloth napkins and then heading for the black Escalades parked outside the restaurant…everyone except Aemond. He sips his wine leisurely, like he hasn’t heard Criston. You don’t leave either.

Criston regards Aemond with fatherly concern, a hand rested on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Really?”

“If memory serves, you don’t need me for this part anymore.”

“Right,” Criston admits awkwardly. “Well one of the Escalades will be waiting out front whenever you’re ready.”

“Sounds good.”

Criston and the rest of the band vanish towards the front of the restaurant. You can hear the slamming of doors and Criston shouting: “Get in the car…get in the fucking car…put your seatbelt on…Aegon, right now, put it on—!”

Aemond takes a pack of Benson & Hedges cigarettes out of the pocket of his dark jeans, puts one between his lips, ignites it with a small square metal lighter—vintage? heirloom?—and then throws the glittery gold pack onto the table. “Okay. Go ahead.”

You smile at him, bars of shadow and sunlight across both of your faces. The restaurant speakers, breaking the spell of the ever-ancient Roman mirage, are playing Foster The People’s Pumped Up Kicks. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not interested in therapy. But I’m somewhat interested in you.” He exhales smoke like a dragon. “So go on, ask your questions so I can theatrically unburden myself and emerge from the wreckage like a phoenix, all shiny and redeemed.”

You gesture broadly. “How did this happen?”

“This?”

“You getting kicked out of Comet. Daeron being added to the lineup, Jace being promoted.”

He speaks nonchalantly as if discussing ancient history or the weather, like that’s just the way the world works, a morally ambiguous eventuality. Every once in a while a tsunami or a mudslide comes along and gobbles up a couple thousand lives, but the planet keeps on spinning. “The label made the call. An executive decision, they said. A boy band is a fantasy. It has to be light, fun, erotic without being scandalous or threatening. No one wants to watch some mutilated, half-blind guy strutting around a stage trying to reclaim some long-gone, better version of himself.”

You are at once immeasurably vengeful on his behalf, but you can’t show this. “That must have been difficult. To be treated mercilessly when you were vulnerable. To realize that something you poured your heart and soul into was so transactional.”

He shakes his head, smoking, not looking at you. He gazes out over the Palatine Hill instead.

“Aemond?”

“What do you want me to say?” he answers abruptly. “That I’m angry? I am. That I wish the accident had never happened? Yeah, I wish that. I wish it every goddamn day. But there’s nothing I can do about any of it. Of course I’m furious. Of course I’m resentful. I built this band. I got us together, kept us together, wrote virtually every hit we ever had. Comet was mine. It was my whole life, my past, my future, my legacy. And they took it from me. You want to know how I really feel about that? I couldn’t tell you in words. I’d have to hit something until my knuckles split through the skin.”

He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray with trembling hands, then he drags his fingers—long, uncalloused, dexterous, though you wish you could stop staring at them—through his hair. He glances at you, embarrassed. You look calmly back.

“Jesus Christ,” Aemond says shakily. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“The band was yours,” you agree. “So you’re the one who named it?”

“Yeah.”

“Comet Donati. The first comet ever photographed. 1858.”

He is impressed. “You’ve studied astronomy?”

“Well…I Googled it,” you confess, and he laughs. He’s relaxed again, he’s sunny like the sky. “But I really like it. A disproportionate number of astronomers are from the Midwest, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because there’s nothing to do there, so people watch the stars instead.”

He nods, thoughtful. “Better than livestock farming or teen pregnancies, I guess.”

“What is it about the comet that inspires you?”

Aemond lights himself a fresh cigarette. His last name is etched into the side of the steel lighter, you see now: Targaryen. “It has an orbital period of 1,740 years. That last time Comet Donati clipped by Earth, Abraham Lincoln was watching it from the front porch of his hotel. It won’t come back until the late-3000s. I’ll never see it. You’ll never see it. But it’s always there. And to me, there’s something really beautiful about that. So many things in life are invisible, silent, unspoken, unacknowledged, unknown, misunderstood. But that doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

You recall the woman you’ve seen standing beside him in countless paparazzi photos: an actress and influencer, 20 million Instagram followers, California blond, Ibiza clubs and Met Galas. “Where’s Shelby?”

“Not around anymore, obviously.”

“She left you or you left her?”

He flicks away ashes, vague, evasive. “She couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It isn’t, that’s clear. It’s marked him somewhere deeper than the flesh.

“No, Aemond.” You reach across the table to take his free hand, his left hand, in your own. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He’s watching you, but he isn’t just watching; he’s a little bewildered, and little captivated, a little impishly proud like he’s won a bet. When you release his hand, he says: “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want someone who’s repulsed by me. Or worse, someone who can only see me as something damaged and pitiful. I don’t want to be fucked out of pity.”

Oh no, you think, gazing helplessly at his face, his fingers, his wrists, the slope of his throat. Oh no, I don’t think pity would be anywhere in my mind, not even a whisper of it, not even a ghost.

Aemond notices. His lips pull up at the edges into a sly smile…and then he grows solemn again. “Are you going to ask me about what happened at the Budokan?”

“No. I don’t want to talk about the past anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I think what happened to you was horrible and senseless and unfair. And the worst part isn’t that you look different. It’s that you are different. You can’t ever unlearn how people treated you afterwards, what their true motivations were. People who discarded you, people who forgot about you. You didn’t deserve that. You were worthy then and you’re worthy now. I don’t want to talk about your past. I want to talk about where you’re going next.”

“I have no idea. When I said the band was my whole life, I meant it.”

“You’ll figure something out. And maybe I can help.”

“Maybe.” He takes a long drag off his cigarette, intrigued. “What made you want to be a therapist?”

That nervous drop in your stomach; a sensation like falling. You disguise it expertly. “No no, I’m asking the questions here. I’m the one with the master’s degree.”

“Now who’s pretentious?”

You’re giggling, and then Aemond is too, like mirror images of each other: sipping white wine and averting your eyes—those so-called windows to the soul—towards the Palatine Hill before they can reveal too much.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Comet Donati performs now, Aemond isn’t on stage. But he never misses a show. He paces around with a black notebook and a white gel pen—Luke learned that from him, you realize—jotting down suggestions and critiques to share with the others afterwards. You follow him, trailing soundlessly like a shadow, through hallways and down aisles and across sky-high catwalks like ancient aqueducts. You’re wearing the only dress you brought from home: short, black lace, cold shoulders. Unconsciously, Aemond takes your hand to make sure you don’t fall behind. Wordlessly, he points out things that make you laugh: Aegon repeatedly slipping on a puddle of beer that he spilled, Daeron’s improvised dance moves (the Mailman, the Beached Whale, the Reckless Uber Driver, etc.), screaming middle-aged women flashing Cregan, Luke giving little crochet stars and planets and comets—handmade by Baela and Rhaena—to children in the audience. But Aemond rarely acknowledges Jace.

As you and Aemond lurk just offstage, the band is performing A Song I’ve Never Heard, the lead single off their first album and an enduring fan favorite.

“If you disappear, I’m going under

Telling you right now, there is no other

Who could ever replace you, no need to wonder

Your name is a song I’ve never heard before.”

“They’re really good live,” you shout, barely audible over the noise. You stand on your tiptoes and lean against Aemond’s shoulder so he can hear you. You are struck by the dormant power beneath your palms, his tense muscles, his radiating heat. You can’t help but imagine what sort of rhythm you might fall into together.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly.

“They’d be even better with you.”

Aemond turns, startled, then smiles. He passes you his notebook and gel pen so you can read his comments and add any of your own. You skim through his scribbled, pearlescent observations.

Cregan – Good smolder. Pay attention to every fan in the crowd, not just the fuckable ones. Thumbs up and high fives for kids. Fist bumps for dudes. Wear less clothes, maybe? If you’re cool with that.

Luke – Don’t be afraid to move around the stage more. Weave. Prowl. Pretend you are a shark.

Aegon – Wrong lyrics during Space-Time Continuum. And Lake Effect. And A Girl Named After A Car!! And The Worst Way To Be!!!! Please for the love of God the words are on Genius.com if you don’t know them.

Daeron – Really great overall. Missed verse during If You’re Summer I’m The Rain. Beware of handshakes with crowd, they could pull you in. Invent a new dance move, something inspired by Kansas City. The Tornado Watch? The Oppressed Beef Cow?

You write at the bottom:

Aemond – Cultivate at minimum one (1) hobby not directly related to Comet Donati. Or pretentious veganism.

You hand the notebook to him, and then he scrawls back:

Already have it. I’ll show you later.

When the concert ends, Aemond leads you backstage to reunite with the band, along with Baela and Rhaena who spent the past two hours dancing and shrieking in the front row.

“I did it!” Rhaena trumpets when she sees you, eyes alight and hands waving in the air. “At the meet-and-greet before the show! I talked to people for four whole minutes and then I got to sit in the corner and drink champagne all by myself and it was amazing!”

“That’s so great!” you exclaim, hugging her. “See?! We knew you could do it. But next time you have to talk to people for ten minutes.”

“Ugh,” Rhaena says, but she’s still beaming. She knows she’s capable of it. It might hurt, but it won’t kill her. And that’s true for a lot of things, isn’t it? The trick is figuring out which of our brains’ frantic doom-signals are misfires, exaggerations, genetic malformations…and which are warnings of something actually lethal.

Everyone piles into the Escalades for the short journey back to the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel. You and Aemond end up sharing a car with Aegon, Luke, and Rhaena. Luke sits right next to Aemond, wants to see all his notes, wants to rehash every detail of the night with him: Did you like this little move I came up with? Was I too extra when I did that? Am I too low in the harmonies? Did you see how psyched that one kid was when I gave him a stuffed comet? As you watch them, streetlights passing by overhead like miniature suns, it occurs to you that Luke is the only person who still treats Aemond like he’s an essential part of the band, not a progenitor to be paid occasional pennies of homage but a heart or a spinal cord, something that can’t be excised without killing the host.

Aegon is lying on his back across the floor of the Escalade and scrolling through his phone. “Oh my God, guess who else is in Rome right now!” he gasps.

“Who?” Rhaena asks, but she rolls her doe-like eyes in a way that tells you this happens a lot.

“Selena Gomez!”

“Great,” Aemond says. “I don’t think she wants to see you.”

Aegon is typing manically with both thumbs. “We’re about to find out.”

Back at the hotel, a force like gravity—stringless, unthinking—pulls everyone towards Jace’s suite. The lights are low, the air smokey, the drinks misty with condensation, the balcony door open as people—friends and roadies and label executives—drift in and out of the starlit night breeze, the music loud and rumbling, lots of bass, Lifestyles Of The Rich & Famous by Good Charlotte. Crowded together in one corner of the room, illuminated by an end table lamp, are Jace, Baela, Daeron, Cregan, and Criston, who is observing with arms crossed over his chest and an exhausted, long-suffering sort of disapproval. There is a tattoo artist getting set up on the coffee table, laying out the needles and ink cartridges, latex gloves, sanitizer, a squeeze bottle of green soap.

“Get the Pantheon!” Baela is telling Jace. She’s sitting in his lap on the white leather couch, his arms locked around her waist but his eyes roaming around the room. “Or laurels, maybe. Or an eagle.”

“Get a gladiator!” Daeron says.

Baela grimaces. “Please don’t.”

“Get the Colosseum!” Luke says as he hurries over to join them.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“He gets a new tattoo for every city we play in,” Daeron explains.

“Some are better than others,” Baela adds. “There were so many gorgeous possibilities for Miami and you chose an alligator?!”

“Every single city, huh?” you say to Jace. “You must have a lot of tattoos.”

He grins crookedly up at you through locks of dark, messy curls. He’s wearing a black and white striped shirt that is mostly unbuttoned. Aemond’s gaze flits anxiously between you and Jace. “I do. But believe it or not, we’ve never been to Rome until now.”

“Get the Leaning Tower of Pisa!” Aegon says.

Criston snaps: “Really? The one that’s in Pisa? Which is a completely different city? The one that’s four hours north of Rome? That Leaning Tower of Pisa? That one?”

“Well fuck, don’t let me inconvenience you with my presence!” Aegon thumps a fist against Cregan’s brawny shoulder and they disappear together, peering down at their phones, faces painted by the white-blue glow of the screens.

“What should I get?” Jace asks Aemond. It sounds like a loaded question.

“Julius Caesar. A usurper.”

Jace winks up at him, arrogant and taunting.

Baela rubs Jace’s bare, ink-adorned chest. “Baby, don’t.”

“I want the Pantheon,” he declares suddenly. “Right here on the back of my right hand. Prime real estate. I won’t be able to do anything without remembering this city, this show.” He turns to Aemond, victorious. “They were filming, you know. They’re going to make it a Netflix special.”

“I’m aware,” Aemond replies, flat, cold.

The tattoo artist is nodding agreeably at Jace. “Si signore, I do the Pantheon all the time. Tourists love to have a picture to take home with them. Nessun problema. You want it on this hand? You are sure? Va bene, place it here on the table. Si, si. I will clean the area and then we will begin.”

Soon the needle of the humming tattoo gun meets the skin: metal, blood, Jace hissing in pain as black lines spring to life across his metacarpals. Baela passes the time by chatting with you. She is clever and kind like Rhaena, but louder, tougher, beautiful yet barbed like a lionfish. She can talk to anyone and never drops her eyes. It amazes you how siblings, built of the same genetic Legos, can grow up to be so different: Baela and Rhaena, Jace and Luke, Aegon and Aemond and Daeron.

When Jace’s tiny Pantheon tattoo is complete and his hand bandaged, he goads you: “Now you’re getting one too, right?”

“Sure,” you say, and you are delighted to see the shock leap into his face.

“What?!” Baela cries.

“You’re joking,” Aemond says uncertainly. “She’s joking.”

“No, I really want one.”

“Get a gladiator!” Daeron bellows, jumping on top of the couch and flexing his muscles like Hercules.

“Get my name on the side of your face like Post Malone,” Jace says. And then, when Baela and Aemond glare at him: “What?!”

“I definitely don’t want that. But I do want something.”

“I will do whatever you like, signora,” the tattoo artist says, changing out needles.

“You’re actually serious?” Aemond asks. And what he means is: You don’t have to do this. It would be reckless. It would be permanent.

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. “I want to remember this little adventure. When I’m back in Kansas City…in a few weeks, or a few months, or whatever…I want to be able to look in the mirror and know that it wasn’t all something I made up. A fantasy, a dream.”

“You should get Comet lyrics,” Luke says excitedly. “Aemond’s lyrics.”

You tap Luke’s notebook: black paper, white gel pen, just like Aemond’s. “Absolutely. Help me choose them.”

Within ten minutes, you’ve settled on a design that Luke has sketched in starlight-colored ink and a location: upper back, equidistant between your shoulder blades, someplace you can easily conceal it when you’re working. It will be a small, minimalist comet—nucleus, coma, and tail—with cursive lyrics from a hidden gem off the band’s most recent album encircling it like the rings of Saturn:

I’ll come back for you if it kills me

Comets clip by again after eons and so can I

Somewhat clumsily, you manage to unzip your dress, shimmy the top part down to around the line of your bra strap, and then lie on your belly across the couch. Baela and Rhaena giggle at the way the men bashfully avert their eyes…all except Aemond. He is speechless, blinking, fascinated. He shakes it off and turns away when he realizes he’s been staring.

“I’m sorry, is this too unprofessional?”

“No, you were perfectly clear,” Daeron says. “You’re a therapist, but not our therapist. So feel free to walk around in just your bra anytime.”

“For real,” Jace adds.

Baela shoos him away: “Go, get us more drinks. Go! Bar! Now!” And Jace reluctantly retreats.

Using Luke’s rough sketch as a reference, the tattoo artist begins working once he’s thoroughly cleaned the area of perfume, shining perspiration, invisible fingerprints, tobacco, other remnants of life’s general untidiness. The pain is bad but not overwhelming, worst when the needle nears your spine. Aemond sits on the floor beside you and observes thoughtfully, sipping a rosy-pink Bramble. Aegon and Cregan wander back into the suite—white powder on their palms, more on their shirts, their pupils dilated and glassy—and are extremely amused by this turn of events. They stay for a while and then are gone again, forever both here and there, comets zooming around their elliptical orbits, Schrodinger’s cats.

“How’s it look?” you ask Aemond as he studies your back. You can’t see anything; you can only feel it.

“The tattoo, or…?”

You laugh and shove him away with your very limited range of motion; then, when you wince at the stinging pain, Aemond grips your hand in his. “I know I’m being pathetic. I know it’s not that bad.” Not compared to what you endured: blunt force trauma, partial blindness, your face stitched back together, your life’s work stolen from you.

“You’re not that pathetic. Louis Tomlinson probably would have cried.”

You laugh again, louder, and the tattoo artist scolds you: “Signora, per favore! Stay as still as you can, I beg you. We are almost done.”

Aemond’s iPhone rings and he glides it out of his pocket with his free hand. His ringtone is Mr. Brightside. “Oh. I should take this.”

“Go ahead,” you tell him. “Go, I’m fine.”

“Who is it?” Criston asks Aemond with curiously intense interest.

“It’s my mom.”

“Does she want to talk to me? To see how the tour is going?”

“No, Criston.”

“Fine,” Criston says testily. “I’m gonna go make sure Aegon isn’t on the roof or something.”

He departs from the crowded suite, momentarily parting the miasma of cigarette and cigar smoke like Moses split the Red Sea. Aemond goes out onto the balcony. Baela and Rhaena take his place next to the couch, fawning over your almost-finished tattoo and showing you their own: Baela has a ring of roses around one ankle, a quote from her grandmother across her ribs, and a compass on her forearm; Rhaena has a tiny L behind one ear for Luke. Even over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the reverberating music, the chattering of new friends and perfect strangers, and the backdrop of traffic noises outside on the winding streets of Rome, you can hear chaos: yelling, banging, the pounding of sprinting footsteps.

When your tattoo is completed and bandaged, you fix your dress and follow the commotion out into the hallway. Several doors down, you find Criston in Aegon’s suite. He’s standing on top of the mattress and attempting to handcuff Aegon to the bedpost. Aegon, thrashing and yowling and shirtless for some reason, rips away from him.

“Give me your hand!” Criston roars. “Give me your fucking hand! You want to act like Motley Crue, you’re gonna get treated like Motley Crue.” He finally clicks a cuff around Aegon’s left wrist, fastens him to the bed, and then doubles over gasping for air.

You say from the doorway: “This is not what I, personally, would call effective conflict resolution.”

“Oh good, you’re here.” Criston wipes fat beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand. “You talk to him. Meditation, yoga, hypnosis, a lobotomy, read him bedtime stories, get him a shock collar, I don’t care what you do, just give me fifteen minutes of peace. I need a goddamn San Pellegrino.” He stomps out of the room and is gone.

Aegon sighs listlessly. “I’d like to say I don’t deserve this, but I probably do.”

“Hey, Aegon?”

“Yeah?”

“What was up with your salad at lunch today? And the skinless boneless chicken?”

He smirks, an expression you can’t quite read. Nervousness? Cynicism? Shame? “I’ve gained like twenty pounds since last summer.”

“So?”

“So almost none of my tour wardrobe fits.”

“Can you not afford new clothes? Have you snorted that much coke?”

He chuckles, but his large blue eyes are sad, defenseless, watery. “The label doesn’t want a chunky popstar. Girls won’t spend thousands of dollars on tickets to see me anymore.”

“Yes they will. And I would too. In a hypothetical alternate universe where I was rich.”

He smiles, for real this time. “You wanna stay? I still have one hand free.”

“That’s a super tempting offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

He blinks up at you with groggy, drunken realization. “You got your eye on someone else, Stargirl?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He’s grinning, toothy, playful. “You didn’t have to.”

There is a knock against the doorframe. When you spin around, Aemond stands there. “Hey,” he says. “Found you.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Fine. Do you want to see something?”

“…Okay?”

“It’s outside.”

“Oh, no way,” Aegon tells him, still handcuffed to the bed, cackling. “No way is she gonna be down for that.”

“She might be,” Aemond replies evenly.

“You still got a second helmet?”

“Of course.”

“Helmet…?” you venture.

Aemond smiles, nodding towards the hall. “Let’s go.”

Aegon waves goodbye with his free hand. “Good luck, Stargirl. Hope your last will and testament is in order.”

“Like I’d leave you anything.” You set several bottles of water and a box of Nutella snacks on the end table where Aegon can reach them.

“Wait wait wait!” he cries when you are about to depart. “Bring me a trashcan too.”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

“So I can piss in it, obviously.”

“You’re an animal.”

He howls like a wolf, rolling around on the mattress. You supply him with a trashcan, as requested, and then follow Aemond out into the hallway.

“Stargirl?” he asks once the two of you are alone in the elevator and headed down.

“It’s a the Weeknd reference. It’s hard to explain.”

“And you and Aegon are…” Aemond raises an eyebrow, the scarred one, the one that’s cut in two. “Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.” You’re worried your voice will squeak, but it is traitorously steady. Aemond seems mollified. And is that really such a lie? What would be closer to the truth? Yes, Aemond, your brother and I are friends. But we’re less than that, and we’re also more, because I’ve fucked him but somehow that was the very least of it. He looks at me and I feel understood like a language the rest of humanity has forgotten. I look at him and I see someone who I care for deeply, irrationally, who I could fall in love with in a slightly different world. But that’s not the world we live in. And in this world, the real one, you’re the person I’m falling in love with.

Aemond takes you all the way down to the ground floor and then out front to the entranceway, fountains, cobblestones, taxis, Ubers, stars. He speaks to the valet and within minutes, they ferry it out of the garage for him, growling and puffing like some kind of mythical beast, a dragon or the Minotaur or the Cerberus. The valet lowers the kickstand and then hands the keys over to Aemond.

“What is that?!” you exclaim.

“It’s a 1960 Gold Star, made by the Birmingham Small Arms Company.”

“Alabama?”

He is amused. “No, the English Birmingham. The original one.”

“Oh. Right.” The valet brings two helmets and two jackets. “You travel with a motorcycle?”

“It fits on the jet,” Aemond replies casually.

“You are so freaking pretentious.”

Aemond offers you a helmet and jacket, and he’s trying to keep the fear from his face but it’s there, because he keeps waiting for the spell to break, for the illusion of who he thinks you are to shatter like glass and reveal that all along you’ve been disgusted by him too, that you misunderstand or patronize or pity him. He surveys you with two eyes, one wary and clear and searching, the other a cloudy planet of misty blue like Neptune. And he waits for you to ask one of those fateful questions—Can you really drive this? Is it safe? Can you see well enough? Can I trust you?—and look at him with bleak, sympathetic skepticism.

Instead, you look at the motorcycle. There are extra mirrors on the left side, you notice, capturing angles that he would otherwise miss. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his maiming. He couldn’t forget it for a second. You don the helmet and jacket and say: “Are those leather seats, Mr. Vegan?”

He beams and straddles the motorcycle. “Shut up and get on the bike.”

You climb on behind Aemond, your arms around his waist, your lungs capturing pieces of him to absorb into your bloodstream: smoke, cologne, hair gel, gin, molecules that become your own. He starts the engine, flicks on the headlight, and steers his Gold Star out into the late-night traffic.

You fly through a nightscape of car horns and streetlights and babbling tourists clustered together on the sidewalks like prey animals, ancient landmarks whirling by like comets: the Piazza Navona, the Trevi Fountain, the Arch of Constantine, the Pantheon that Jace now has inked irrevocably to his flesh. The sky is freckled with constellations you couldn’t name. The moon is full and brilliant. There is a black limo cruising nearby full of hooting, half-naked frat boys and blaring Coldplay’s Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall. At stop signs and red lights, Aemond reaches down to rest a palm lightly on your bare thigh, just an inch or two above the knee—his wrist brushing against the black lace of your dress—but enough to pillage your mind of anything else, enough to rip the door to your skull off its hinges and build a home there in the web of neurons and flashbulb surges of electricity that we call memory, emotion, instinct, desire. When you close your eyes as the wind rushes by, you can imagine that you’ve always known Aemond and that you always will. When you press yourself against him as hard as you dare to, you can feel everything else dissolving away: pasts, futures, doubts, every other person on this planet, scars that mar the soul with jagged rifts and knots as red as blood.

In the abandoned, golden halls of the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel, Aemond walks you back to your suite. His hands are in his pockets, his head down, his steps swift. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. Your thoughts are deafeningly loud with clattering impossibilities: Me? Aemond? Lust? Love?

You arrive at your door, swipe your keycard, and open it. You stand at the threshold, but you don’t vanish inside. You don’t want to be apart from him. You gaze up at him, dazed with longing, resting your head against the doorframe, fresh ink burning between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, Aemond?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t fuck you out of pity.”

There’s satisfaction on his face, there’s pride, there’s hunger, but there’s trepidation too. He hesitates in the doorway. “Look, I, uh…” He sighs, resigned, perhaps warring with himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” But he doesn’t leave.

“Are you lost? Need a map back to your room? I can try to draw one for you. We could get one tattooed on the back of your hand.”

He laughs, marveling at you. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” He makes it halfway down the hall, glances back, shakes his head to himself, keeps walking until he’s disappeared.

You shut the door and say to your empty suite: “I don’t even like him that much.”

But I do. I do, I do, I do.

“Oh no,” you moan, covering your face with both hands. But you can’t stop smiling.

You take a shower, pull on an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants, then crawl into your hotel bed: scratchy comforter, a mattress that’s too firm, pillows that are too squishy. You turn on your laptop, open YouTube, and start searching for Comet Donati performances before Aemond left the band, scenes from a different lifetime under the same stars.

[saunne]

You Are A Weakness I Cannot Afford To Possess - Aventio/Ratiorine Snippet

[You are welcome to yell at me and demand monetary reparations to pay for your therapy because I'm not sorry]

Every risk was cautiously considered and weighed, every move carefully calculated. Obviously, emotions were something based on a much less stable basis than mathematical calculations but... 

Veritas Ratio was not blind. 

He wasn't a fool either, despite feeling like one at that very moment. 

“...What do you mean no ?” 

The man looked at him, a bittersweet smile on their thin lips, even as one of their poker chips twirled nimbly between their graceful fingers. 

"Before you ask a question, why don't you consider whether the answer has already been determined ?" Aventurine responded softly, their eyes drifting to gaze outside as they wearily parroted Veritas' own words. "It is better for everyone if such questions are not asked... Don't you think, my good Doctor ?" 

These words, Veritas uttered them regularly.  To his colleagues, his students, Enid, his superiors, strangers even. 

To be the recipient was... painful. 

Unexpected. 

"I don't understand," Veritas whispered, his voice hoarse and his throat tight. "You love me."

Every risk was cautiously considered and weighed, every move carefully calculated. Veritas Ratio would never have risked a move if he had not been absolutely certain that his feelings were returned.

And yet… And yet.

“I do,” Aventurine laughed airily. “Gaiathra help me, I do.”

The chip was strangely warm in Veritas' palm as his hand instinctively gripped around it, the smooth edges digging into his palm. Aventurine's hand was soft against his cheek, barely a caress, ghostly and fleeting presence. 

Their lips were soft and just slightly wet as they kissed him, for barely more than a heartbeat. The faint caress of their sigh as they retreated felt as icy as the incessant blizzards of this planet of eternal winters, to which Veritas had accompanied them only weeks earlier. 

Where he had warmed their frozen fingers between his. 

Where they shared laughter and kisses as light as the snowflakes that ended their fall in their pale eyelashes.

Where a cheerful “Why not, Veritas?” had met his cautious questioning, where only a silence heavy with lost words now met this same question, this "why" trembling with dashed hope.

"Because... All or Nothing only works because there is nothing left, Veritas. Nothing except myself, which is nothing in itself,” the Stoneheart confessed in a breath, in a plea that sounded more like a condemnation. “I can’t…”

They closed their eyes, taking a deep breath.

When they looked at him again, the heat of their gaze was not that of an inviting hearth, but that of a raging fire. 

A heat of desert wasteland bathed by a blind sun, of an age-old drought that a cataclysm would not be enough to repair. A heat made of prayers as numerous as the grains of sand of Sigonia-IV and as sticky as the blood that had stained it.

 “You are a weakness I cannot afford to possess, Veritas Ratio.”

A silence.

"And for what little it's worth, I'm truly sorry."

[theflyindutchwoman]

I’ve been feeling so upset and down and sad. I hate that they broke up. I hate how he just left Lucy there. I hate how sad my baby girl is in this season. I need them back together, they are so great together. I am so afraid that it will take the whole season for them to reunite romantically and we are left in a chenford drought the rest of the season.

Let me start by sending you a virtual hug, we are going to need it for this journey. That last scene of Lucy has been haunting me… So know that you are not alone in this! As for them getting back together… Listen, this is probably an unpopular opinion (?) and not the one you might be hoping for… but I don't want them back together this season (and I can't believe I'm writing this).

What Tim is going through on a personal level is not something that can be magically fixed in one or two episodes. Otherwise, it just cheapens his storyline. He needs therapy - with someone who is not spying on her clients, by the way (speaking of, I really hope that he doesn't reveal anything incriminating to our resident psychiatrist, that would make things worse on so many levels). He needs to work on himself, he needs to learn to come to terms with his past so he can forgive himself. That's not to say that Lucy can't help him along the way in the future. But, at the very least, he has to start the work.

As for Lucy, she also needs therapy. She needs to focus on herself, to deal with everything that has happened to her in the last couple of months (if not years), to figure out where she goes from there and rebuild her confidence (which should not be dependant on the approval of others). It could be interesting to see her navigate this new stage of her life without Tim at her side. Ever since she started in Mid-Wilshire, he has been her one constant. He was her TO, her Sergeant, her case officer in her last UC mission, her boyfriend… There has been some periods of time without him, of course, like right after her graduation… or after she stopped being his aide… But this time, it won't be as easy to get past this hurdle. Or it shouldn't.

But doesn't mean that they won't interact at all. They still work at the same station and with Tim back on patrol (and as her direct superior officer), they are bound to bump into each other. So we should definitely have some pining moments. And awkward interactions. Maybe some angry words. What I hope, I guess, is that by the end of s6, they will have a meaningful conversation, where Tim explains to Lucy why he broke up. Because I'm not sure she understands why. Scratch that : I'm not sure she even has all the information. We don't know what Tim told her since we didn't see that scene (I'm a bit bitter about it). I think it could be a first step in the right direction. For both of them individually and for their future. But they still have a long road ahead of them. They need to work on their friendship first, before even thinking of being a couple again.

That's going to be the biggest challenge actually : finding the right timing to get them back together. Too soon and you risk ruining that storyline. Too long and your risk losing your audience's interest. I wish I had more comforting words for you, dear Anon. I still believe this could be a wonderful journey, even an empowering and beautiful one for the both of them. And at the moment, I'm holding on to that.

[palestinian-fundraising]

PLEASE READ AND REBLOG🇵🇸

Helping a disabled child to leave Gaza

Message from creator:

My name is Mohammad, I am 27 years old, a language student, and a Palestinian refugee residing in Belgium.

I am writing to you with a heavy heart, asking for your urgent help to save my dear sister Soha and her family from the horrific conditions they are living in in Gaza.

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/JSmCIYjnBYw

Suha, her husband Khalil, their son Yamen, Ammar, and their daughter Rahma live in constant fear amid the continuous bombing and chaos of war. The situation has become more serious as their son, Yamen, suffers from a motor disability, and the family faces enormous challenges due to the lack of physical therapy and massage devices for the muscles and the inability to obtain an opportunity for treatment.

A picture of the Suha family living on the beach after they were forced to leave their home for the third time due to mass bombing and nearby explosions.

I ask for your generous support to evacuate Suha and her family members from the dangerous conditions they are currently living in in Gaza and transfer them to a safe place in Egypt.

Soha and Khalil, both devoted parents, struggle to protect their children from the overwhelming sounds of explosions that surround them. The child, already burdened with mobility challenges, now lives in a state of constant fear, unwilling to endure the terror any longer.

Suha's house after the mass bombing of the neighborhood.

Case summary:

In October 2023, my sister Suha’s family was trapped in a relentless nightmare of bombing, forced from their homes to the UNRWA school in Khan Yunis where more than 40 people live in each classroom, with no refuge from hunger, drought, displacement and disease. And continuous bombings.

-Since the beginning of January 2024, the family has been forced to move again, but to another city, the city of Rafah, where the living conditions are disastrous, and the family lives in a handmade tent on the beach, and now the family is suffering from cold weather and winds and they are still suffering from a very dangerous nearby bombing.

Your support is important:

It is imperative that we come together to evacuate Soha and her family to a safer environment where they can find peace and security. They deserve to live without the constant threat of violence and fear of what tomorrow may bring.

Financial details:

To cross the border between Gaza and Egypt in Rafah, you are required to pay for permits known as the “crossing list.” Coordinators in Egypt informed us that adding family names would cost between $5 and $5,500 per person. Your generous contributions will go towards:

$25,000 for a permit for the Rafah crossing for all members of the Hamdan family.

$1000 travel and transportation fees from Gaza to Egypt.

US$5,000 to rent a shelter/house in Egypt, resettlement, purchase of clothes, urgent healthcare and other humanitarian needs for a few months up to one year.

How you can help:

Please consider donating and sharing widely with people and friends. Every second in Gaza is a candle, your support can be life-saving.

Your support is important in this effort. We must act quickly to ensure the safety of Suha, Khalil, Yamen, Ammar, and Rahma. Please donate generously and share this appeal with your networks to help us reach our stretch goal of providing a better future for this deserving family.

You can contact Soha and kahleel on Instagram

https://www.instagram.com/yamin_khaleel?igsh=bjJjanc1Y295Zjkx

He is not available at all times due to poor communications.

Thank you for your kindness and compassion during this time period.

sincerely,

Muhammad T

[foxes-that-run]

Falling

Falling depicts depression so well. I love it so much, this performance, the music video, his voice, everything. It breaks my Haylor heart but I love it.

While Fine Line is the decision point to step over the line of friendship, Falling is the aftermath of doing so. It is 'chase 2 girls loose the 1'. Cruel Summer was written in the same period with a similar meaning.

To me, the narrative order would be: Sunflower Vol 6 / DBTC/ Golden > Fine Line > Cherry > Falling (& Cruel Summer) > To be so Lonely (& Afterglow). The Fine Line album order is more hopeful though.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left

I love the imagery in the opening verse, it's a clear reference to a similar time in From the Dining Table, but more mature. Like FTDT, it’s about Harry and his own self-reflection and regret.

Taylor has also referenced baggage in Renegade for Big Red Machine "Get your shit together / So I can love you? (carry your baggage up my street / And make me your future history)"

[Chorus] What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin' What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

To Zane Lowe Harry said he wrote it in a towel in "20" minutes. When talking about Cherry Harry said he could see him becoming someone he didn't want to be. Falling is such a vulnerable song. Harry said the highs and lows of writing Fine Line were the highest and lowest of his life. He was certainly really feeling his emotions during the Live on Tour shows that year and spoke about therapy in interviews about them.

"What if I'm someone you won't talk about" hits me, this sounds like TS, she doesn't talk about him, but they constantly sing about each other. I think there have been times this relationship has been just as muses, rather than actual partners. When I hear this line I think he is scared of losing that because they were the later.

[Verse 2] You said you cared, and you missed me too And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say

The 'too many songs about you' line is clearly directed to TS. In Little Freak, later that year, he said "Somehow, you've become some paranoia", HS was asked about TS constantly for years, they hid any interaction then both wrote most of Lover and Fine Line about each other. I think they were struggling with more mature lives, careers and how each other fits in.

The coffee is out at the Beachwood Cafe is a way to say the happy life once shared is now depleted and gone. Taylor also likens the end of a relationship to a drought in Clean, where she "The drought was the very worst / When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst". Clean goes on to have imagery of rain pouring in which the Falling music video uses.

'And kills me because we've run out of things to say' reminds me of the theme of not communicating and line in Two Ghosts "Tongue-tied like we've never known / Telling those stories we already told/ 'Cause we don't say what we really mean"

[Bridge] And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again

The heart breaking bridge is a deep fear that his muse will never need him again because they are were in a long term relationship.

While in Cherry Harry has a begrudging, somewhat petty acceptance that CR had moved on. His relationship with TS is more complicated, even apart they sing of being fated so it's temporary, Falling is the fear of when it is not:

OOTW " We were built to fall apart/ Then fall back together (back together)

HYGTG "Broke your heart, I'll put it back together / I would wait for ever and ever (I want you for ever and ever)"

Suburban Legends " When you told me we'd get back together / And you kissed me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever"

Someday (Michael Buble) "We could be in love once more / Till then I won't give my love away / Darling, I'm forever only yours"

Golden "Hold it, focus, hoping / Take me back to the light / I know you were way too bright for me/ I'm hopeless, broken / So you wait for me in the sky"

There is a list of 20 songs here.

Falling and Clean are similar in that they actually consider an end. NTWDT does too, but it's more mad than resigned as in Clean and Falling.

Which is why Cardigan and it's music video is a response to Falling.

[ntls-24722]

mwah mwah mwah machine <33333

More gospel music </3 sorry guys im invested and i really like them. I also got reminded Wesley is the one behind the therapy vest so DJ would be a lot more open to Wesley than a lot of other people

meow

Sorry that today's really dry, but i have realized something: I am experiencing artblock!!!!!!!

ah, what drawing the same character over and over for 2 years does to a man

I will readily draw dj and I still enjoy drawing dj and i can draw, but i'm in an idea.... drought. I've drawn him so many times I'm stumped at what else to draw. please send asks! or requests! or prompts or weird words or thingies! I want to make more ridiculous things!!!

[youkailuvr]

RebelCaptain Secret Santa 2023

Hi @luciechat !

I’m not your original RCNSS, but I volunteered to whip up a little something for you when your original SS had irl happenings that prevented them from writing it.

Your prompts honestly sounds very much like something I would like to read. As usual, this almost grew a life of its own and I hope it meets enough of your prompts to make it enjoyable. It's titled <a href=https://archiveofourown.org/works/52791835>Choice</a> and it's also on AO3.

It’s been a heck of a year and I haven’t really written anything for a long time, so I really hope you’ll like this.

Enjoy! (Summary is below; full fic below the cut.

*****

She scoffed, sipping again at her cider. “Cassian, the only reason I’m even here in the first place was because Melshi and the others broke me out of prison. You can’t seriously think I actually would have come if I had been given the choice? With who I was then? Not a chance.”

Nearly a year after Scarif, the surviving crew of Rogue One found themselves fully immersed in the Rebel Alliance’s efforts against the Empire.  Not only was the Alliance searching for a more permanent base after evacuating Yavin IV, but they were actively and heavily recruiting to boost their numbers, which is how Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso found themselves on the miserable little world of Agmir.

Cassian had only been fully cleared for all field missions a month previously, finally relieving him of the frustration of being on desk duty and intelligence analysis.  During his lengthy recovery (which involved several surgeries and many hours of physical therapy), he and Jyn had grown closer.  Jyn’s recovery had taken much less time than his and, as she found her place in the Rebellion, her talents as a fighter and coder had not gone unnoticed.  Jyn had already been on a few missions with the Pathfinders and given several (unofficial) sparring lessons, but she always returned to Cassian’s side after each mission.

Once Cassian was cleared for full duty, he made it clear (with Jyn’s permission) to Draven that he would only be taking field assignments with her as his partner.  (As much as it pained him to not have K-2SO by his side, Cassian had yet to find a suitable body for the droid’s backup disks.)  Draven had then given him the assignment to investigate the planet Agmir for possible Alliance recruits and suppliers.  A milk run, really, an easy job that Cassian hadn’t had to do for years, but having a non-life-threatening mission for once had seemed appealing at the time.

If only he had known about the rain.

Agmir was a developed planet, semi-populated, with the standard sector mix of rural and urban, wealthy and less-fortunate, law-abiding and law-breaking.  For most of the planet’s rotational period, it was temperate – a few rains here and there to avoid droughts, but mostly pleasant.  For the remaining two standard months, however, Agmir received eighty percent of it’s annual rainfall, resulting in daily rain and many destructive storms. 

And, of course, Cassian and Jyn arrived a month into that two-month window.  They realized very quickly that the rainy season was not prime time for tourists or even off-worlders in general, so they changed their cover stories from a clueless vacationing couple looking to explore the ‘edges of civilization’ to a pair of traveling laborers looking for work who had the poor luck to land on Agmir during the worst time of the year.

The rain would be bearable, Cassian thought as they entered the local bar and shook the rain from their shoulders, if only we were getting results.  As Jyn walked to the bar to get drinks and Cassian headed for what had become their customary seats, he reflected on what was likely to be a failed mission.  They had visited several cities so far and had currently been in this primarily working-class city for a week now.  Typically, those lower on the social rungs of society tended to be more sympathetic to the Rebellion’s cause and more willing to fight for it. 

However, it was becoming quite apparent that the people of Agmir were completely uninterested in any of the happenings of the galaxy outside of their little world – no one had even remotely shown any desire to stand against the Empire.  And Agmir didn’t produce anything that the Rebellion could use; at least, not that they couldn’t get elsewhere for lower costs and easier shipping.

Jyn returned with two glasses of a simple brewed cider, easily the least alcoholic drink the bar offered and one that had become their go-to.  They sat side-by-side on stools against the back wall of the bar, no table in front of them, but two small tables on either side, shared by other stools nearby.  He took his with a word of thanks and kept his eyes on a group of five hard-looking laborers that had just walked in – already loud and possibly already drunk.

“So, when do we get to leave here again?”  Jyn sipped at her cider, looking askance at his questioning expression as she did so.  “Don’t give me that look.  You know as well as I do that this place doesn’t offer us anything.”

“True,” Cassian replied.  “We should stick it out until the end of the rainy season.  Not being cooped up for days on end with nothing other than work to occupy the minds of the people could be helpful.”

Jyn rolled her eyes.  “I’ve seen it before, Cassian – I used to be like every person here.  Nothing will change their behavior until it affects them personally.”

Cassian’s attention was caught on the men who had walked in after them and he could tell Jyn was watching them, too.  They seemed to be the rough and tough sort of folks – bodies large and shaped by decades of manual labor.  But their voices were growing in volume, and they kept turning to look towards the rest of the bar.  Cassian wasn’t sure if it was true, but he thought they looked toward him and Jyn a little more often than was normal.  He kept an eye on them all the same.

Jyn’s words finally registered.  He looked at her, lowering his drink from where he had raised it.  “I don’t believe that.”

“What, that these people don’t care?”

“That you didn’t.”

She scoffed, sipping again at her cider.  “Cassian, the only reason I’m even here in the first place was because Melshi and the others broke me out of prison.  You can’t seriously think I actually would have come if I had been given the choice?  With who I was then?  Not a chance.”

Cassian took a drink of his own cider and watched the room for a moment before answering.  “I saw you fight –”

His words were cut off by the sound of raucous shouting coming from the men they had been eyeing.  One broke off from the rest and stumbled over towards them.  Jyn and Cassian both put their drinks down and their hands drifted to their waists.

“You…girl,” the man slurred. 

(Cassian amended his original notion – the men had most certainly been drunk when they arrived.) 

“You, you should come over here.  With us.  We could – could show you a good time.”  The man’s breath and words were laden with alcohol as he leered openly at Jyn, who stared stonily back.

“I don’t think that would be a good time,” she deadpanned. 

The man scoffed and stepped closer.  “How-how will you know if you don’t give us a try?  We’ve seen you here, with him,” the man glared at Cassian as if he had been personally offended by the rebel captain.

“Me and my friends could wipe the floor with him in a tick,” he turned back to Jyn and smirked, “Then we could show you what a real man’s like.”

Cassian slid off his stool to his feet at the same time Jyn slid off hers. 

“I said no,” Jyn repeated before looking to Cassian.  “Time to go?”

He nodded once and they stepped forward, intending to walk past the drunken man and leave the bar.  The drunkard had one more trick to try, however, and grabbed Jyn’s wrist as they stepped past.

Jyn’s other hand whipped out and caught the drunk on the chin, forcing his head up and back hard enough that the man released his hold on her.  Howling in pain, the man stumbled back and held a hand to his face. 

“You bitch!  Forget a good time – I’m gonna kill you now for that.”

“Try it and you’ll regret every second,” Jyn hissed.  Cassian looked around and saw that the commotion had roused the other bar patrons.  Most were simply watching the altercation, but the man’s drinking buddies had risen from their seats now and were stalking in their direction.

Cassian slipped next to Jyn and placed a hand at her elbow.  “We should go,” he muttered, low enough for her ears only, “We don’t need a scene.”

He felt her stiffen and saw a raised eyebrow.  “It wasn’t me that started it,” she responded.

“I know,” Cassian smiled slightly.

Jyn followed his lead and turned to continue their path out of the bar, but they were stopped by the drunk man’s also drunken friends.

One of the bigger and burlier looking ones stepped closer.  “You hurt our friend.”

“What of it?” Jyn asked, defiant.

Another spoke.  “We want payback.”

“I don’t think you do.  We certainly don’t want a fight.”  Cassian knew his attempt at pacifying the men would likely fail, but he had to try.

“Oh, but we do,” said the man Jyn hit.  The other men closed in.

Cassian saw Jyn reach just under the edge of her rain coat, where he knew her favorite set of truncheons lay.

Oh well, he thought and set himself into a defensive stance just as the men lurched forward.

---

Twenty minutes later found a drenched Jyn and Cassian opening the door to their rented room.  As the door closed behind them, they peeled off their soaked outerwear and hung it to dry.  Though given the chill in the room, their clothes weren’t likely to dry much.

The bar fight had not been a hard one.  The drunks were easy enough to incapacitate; a few bottles had been broken (and maybe a wooden stool or two).  Jyn and Cassian had maneuvered the fight out of the bar and away from the other patrons, but what had made it worse was that the moment they had succeeded in luring the men outside, the skies opened up, turning what had been a steady, if heavy, shower into an absolute downpour.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had ever been this wet, even after Eadu.

He glanced over at Jyn, who looked back, just as soaked to the skin as he was.  “You can clean up first.  I’ll see about what’s wrong with the heater.”

“Thanks.”  Jyn grabbed her pack and walked across the room to the small, attached refresher, closing the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, Jyn emerged, now in clean clothes with a towel across her shoulders to prevent her wet hair from soaking into her dry shirt.  “Your turn,” she said, coming to stand beside where he knelt in front of the room’s heater.  “Any luck?”

Cassian leaned back on his heels and shook his head.  “No.  I can reprogram droids without a thought, but this heater?  Nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

Jyn reached out a hand and pulled him to his feet.  “Go get changed – I’ll give it a shot.”

He flashed her a grateful smile before grabbing his own pack and heading for the ‘fresher.

When he emerged a few moments later, a second towel around his own shoulders, it was to the sound of low cursing coming from the area around the heater.

Jyn was kneeling by it, forcibly replacing the outer cover and cursing quite brilliantly under her breath as she did so.

“No luck?”

Jyn easily rose to her feet.  “No,” she sighed, “At least it’s not cold enough to turn this rain to snow.”

Cassian hummed in acknowledgement as he stowed his bag next to hers by the door.  The rainy season here wasn’t cold by most sentients’ estimations, but the dampness seemed to seep into the bones and make even a moderately cool ambient temperature feel much colder. 

Body heat would likely be their best option for a safe sleep.  Given how close he and Jyn had become, it wasn’t unusual for them to share a bed, though all they ever did was sleep.  The comfort of knowing someone was near, was next to you – someone you could trust to have your back and protect you, should you need it – had given them a respite on the nights when their past became a little too prominent in their thoughts.

Jyn’s ease around him was obvious when she unerringly stepped forward and pulled down the covers on one side of the bed.  “Are you coming?” she asked.

He smiled slightly and followed her lead, laying their towels across a nearby desk chair.  As they settled into bed and dimmed the lights, a flash of red on Jyn’s arm caught Cassian’s eye.  Her shirt sleeve had gotten pushed up enough to bare her forearm and he saw an angry red slash across it.  He immediately sat up from the pillow.

“Jyn – what happened?”

She sat up as well.  “What?”

“Your arm.”  He reached for the injured limb and it was a testament to their familiarity with each other that she didn’t flinch away from his touch.  He held her wrist gently as he turned her arm to see the mark on her outer forearm – a defensive wound, then.

Jyn stared at her arm.  “Oh, it’s fine.  It had stopped bleeding by the time I got changed.” 

Cassian released her hand and slid back out of the bed. 

“Where are you going?”

“We need to clean and wrap that.  Who knows what was on whatever cut you,” he said, reaching his pack and removing the medkit.

“Cassian, it’s fine – it’s not even bleeding!”

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and held out his hand for her arm.  “I’m still going to do this.  An infection is the last thing we need right now.”

Jyn let him disinfect and bandage her arm.  “Anywhere else?” he asked.

“No,” she responded.  “What about you?” 

He shrugged.  “A few bruises, but they’ll heal.”

Jyn raised an eyebrow.  “You made me show you mine.  It’s only fair I get to see yours.”

Cassian flushed slightly and hoped the lowered lights would hide it.  “Fair is fair,” he agreed, and showed her the two worst bruises – one to his ribs and one to his bicep.  Her fingers lightly slid over the one on his arm and he could tell she was worried. 

“They’re superficial, I promise,” he assured her, reaching for her hand on his arm and holding it tight.  “I’m alright.”

They settled back down and further dimmed the lights, though they didn’t turn them off entirely and left just enough to see by if needed.

Side by side, they lay there and tried to rest.  Cassian and Jyn both knew that Agmir was not what they needed, so they had decided on the way back to the rented room to leave the next day, rain or no rain.  But to do that, they would need a good rest, if only a few hours’ worth.

Sleep proved elusive, however, as the chill of the room only deepened.  The blanket provided to them in the room had previously been enough to keep them comfortable, but the combination of a cool room combined with the soaking they had received during the fight was proving difficult to regain that warmth and rest.

Finally, he had enough and turned to her, intending to offer the most basic way of warming he could think of.

“Jyn –”

She turned at the same time.

“Cassian –”

They both laughed lowly.  “Go ahead,” he offered.

“No,” she said, still smiling, “You first.”

Cassian inhaled.  “It’s cold in this room and I know you’ve got to be just as cold as I am.  Why don’t we lay closer and share the body heat?  It’s bound to be warmer than not.”

Jyn looked at him, thoughtful.  “Okay,” she simply said, before sliding closer and curling against his side, her head on his shoulder.

Cassian froze.  Jyn noticed and he felt her tense as well. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes, only let me just...” Cassian eased his arm out from under her to rest along her back.  “Okay?” he asked, hoping she was comfortable.  It had only been a moment for him, and he felt like he could rest there forever.

He felt, rather than heard her nod.  Moments passed and Cassian felt himself drifting off when he heard Jyn speak.

“Cassian?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you mean earlier?”

Cassian woke himself fully.  “When?”

The tone of Jyn’s voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable.  “In the bar; when you said you didn’t think I was like these people.  What did you mean?”

Cassian blinked, looking down at the top of her head on his shoulder. 

“I mean that...I saw you.  I may not know every detail of your life before we met, but I saw you then.  I saw you fight for yourself.  Fight to protect that little girl on Jedha.  I saw you befriend two forgotten warriors so fast that they were willing to leave all they had behind to follow.  I saw that when it came down to it, you wanted to do what needed to be done so others could have the chance to survive, to win – and your conviction was enough for others to stand and follow.  That’s all this Rebellion really is – people who see what needs to be done and do it.”

Jyn was quiet for long enough that Cassian worried he might have overstepped.  Then he felt her shift and lay her free arm across his chest.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  “I see you, too.  I see the man who has given his life time and again to a cause he believes in.  A man that befriended the most annoying, most loyal droid in the galaxy.  I saw you come back for me.  You’re the only one who’s done that in a very long time.”

Cassian’s smile at the mention of Kay faltered a little at the reminder that many of the people in Jyn’s life (and his own if he was being absolutely truthful with himself) tended not to stay long.  And they couldn’t promise each other a full life together either.  Even if they were to ever leave the Rebellion, civilians were never safe in a war.

Cassian gently pulled Jyn closer to him and tugged the blankets a little more snuggly around them.  A moment passed and he felt Jyn relax into the first tendrils of sleep.  But maybe, he mused, maybe we should take our own advice and take the chances given to us.

A gentle smile graced his face with the hope of the future as Cassian followed Jyn into sleep.

[snapthistiger]

exercise 02262024

bike ride to the gym

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

3 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

3 x 10 cable row

3 x 10 cable press

2 minutes treading water without using hands

300 yard breast stroke swim

10 lb brick retrieved from 20 yards

bike ride home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses

brought my Mom to physical therapy this morning. she said she was exhausted afterwards

top = i was the only person in the pool for most of my swim. as i was finishing my 300 yards, 2 guys entered the pool in my lane. kinda weird because the rest of the pool was open. i moved to the far lane to complete the brick retrieval exercise.

i spoke to the pool manager and she said they have enough participants to have the lifeguard class next week. lifeguard class is 4pm to 8pm and i'm not sure but will probably move my exercise to right before lifeguard class instead of exercising in the morning

picked up a Walmart order / 40 lbs of bird seed and 4 gallons of vinegar. i flush my hot water heater with the vinegar once a year

bottom = a couple of azaleas. will be interesting to see how many azaleas will bloom this year because of the severe drought last summer

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[dollyyun]

𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 | chap 13

SYPNOSIS: wherein Hwang Stella's life is tangled in a predicament involving her clandestine identity as a racer, her seemingly daily life as the official heir to the Hwang Empire, and seven guys with whom she has a complex history with.

PAIRING: enhypen members x fem oc.

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), reverse harem, chaebols, semi-college & racing, eventual adulthood, non-idol au, eventual enha being f1 drivers, multiple pov (this fic is written in first pov).

WARNINGS: expletives, angst, heartbreaks, drama.

WORD COUNT: 10k+

FEATURING: ITZY Yeji, LE SSERAFIM Yunjin, STRAY KIDZ Hyunjin

TAGLIST: @aishigrey @kgneptun

🍒MASTERLIST🍒

Four years ago, I never would have thought that the trajectory of my life would change drastically. The twenty-two-year-old me never would have thought that the shackles that chained her to the ground for years would be destroyed. Hence, allowing her to finally be free, as she was no longer tethered to the environment that often brought calamities throughout her life.

I, Hwang Stella, am no longer the heir to the forsaken empire, and no longer do I reside in Seoul.

New York is the place where I chose to start my life. However, I can't say that the beginning of my new journey here was easy.

After I miraculously recovered from fatal injuries and woke up from a coma a month later, Yeji was there beside the hospital bed. Her eyes were red and full of tears. Yeji read the news article about the major incident that happened in Seoul, and the details included Rena being an attempted murderer as well as Minhyuk having blood stained on his hands for years. Thus the downfall of the Hwang empire.

And so, I made a firm decision that I would move to New York. Yeji was more than glad to hear that, and she welcomed me into her home, where she was also living with her fiancé. But even as I had recovered, my mental health was ailing.

At that point in time, my past was catching up to me, taunting me in my slumber and even as I went about my day. The major incident that happened four years ago, and my past when the people I thought were family─ they had scarred me for life, and I've become traumatised by them.

I was mentally ill, always screaming and sobbing in my sleep, and would often have mental breakdowns at any time of the day. There were days when I couldn't physically do anything. Yeji and her fiancé─who I've eventually become close with and regard as an older brother─were more than worried about me and decided to bring me to therapy sessions where I used to attend daily.

As I recall, a grimace covers my face. To say the beginning of my new chapter here was bad is an understatement. I can't even imagine how my illness must have affected Yeji and her fiancé.

The drought was the very worst, then came the rain pouring down with storms, but eventually the dreary skies turned blue with streaks of sunlight peeking through the clouds, and flowers bloomed.

As the years passed, I'd become better. I've learned to embrace each scar, be it a physical or mental scar. As my therapist had told me, I must change my perspective on the ugly scars I bear and instead embrace them, as they are proof that I am a survivor.

No longer was I affected or traumatised badly by the scars that will forever imprint inside of me. No longer do I look at these ugly scars with such disgust and feel begrimed.

I was finally clean.

"Stella! Over here!"

As soon as I enter the two-story cafe establishment, my ears perk up at the sound of a familiar voice I haven't heard since her schedule was packed for the last two weeks. My gaze settles on two figures from afar, with both their heads turning to me.

Arriving at their table, I am startled when she embraces me in a hug—a tight hug at that. I groan. "Aera, it's only been two weeks."

Aera, the girl whom I can call my best friend and sister. Four years ago, Aera made a firm decision to follow me. According to her, she could do whatever the hell she wanted since her family had disowned her. Yeji welcomed Aera and had her live in their penthouse too.

Since Aera and I were living together, she had seen the worst and ugly side of me, but she stayed throughout, and most of the nights when I couldn't sleep, Aera would be by my side all night despite the fact that she would have classes in the morning the next day.

Four years ago, Aera decided to enrol herself in the Parsons School of Design, as she had always dreamed of becoming a fashion designer. Now, as she has officially become one and is currently working for the same company as Yeji.

As for me, I had some thoughts on becoming an F1 driver as I've always been a huge fan since I was young, but I couldn't. I couldn't even race like I used to, because the word race itself would remind me of them. So, instead, I enrolled in a private school and continued to study.

Hence, I am now an external travel manager in the F1 industry and have been for about six months now. The responsibilities and work itself are tougher than expected, but I stayed resilient. Yes, it's tough, but I love what I'm doing.

Aera pulls her newly dark raven hair into a high ponytail. "So, any juicy news?" She asks us with her eyebrows wiggling before she looks at the person who is seated across from me. "Jen! You're always the one with juicy news! Anything to share?"

My eyes shift to the gorgeous red hair, and as our eyes meet, I immediately look down at the drink on the table.

Huh Yunjin, or rather, Jennifer, is a year older than Aera and I, but we get along well with her. I first met Jennifer when I enrolled in the private school here, where she was one of my peers. As we got closer, she had become a close friend of mine, and I decided to introduce her to Aera. Now, they're even closer than Jen and I were.

Well, probably because I had a one-night stand with her. Even till now, I can't seem to look at her straight in the eyes without feeling embarrassed. Jennifer is a gorgeous yet intellectual woman. She is also the daughter of one of the bosses in the F1 industry. She even had admirers, but she rejected them.

We used to be close until the one-night stand happened just three months ago. We were drinking at her apartment, talking about our first kisses and boyfriends, and laughing without a care, but then came this unexplainable tension and the shift in the atmosphere. Before we knew it, clothes were discarded, and we were in her bed.

Jen even assured me that it changed nothing about our friendship, but why does it feel like it has?

"I went on a blind date recently." Jennifer starts off, her eyes no longer on mine. "It was my mom's idea. He turned out to be a misogyny asshole."

"Isn't that your third blind date?" Aera chuckles.

"Fifth." Jennifer corrects her as she rolls her eyes. "The woman just won't give up that I'm not into relationships."

"Actually, I have something to share." I speak up as soon as I remember. "You guys remember Henry? He informed me recently that he managed to find my brother." I sigh. "He's here, in New York."

Both Aera and Jennifer soften their gazes as they look at me. They know about my attempts to search for my brother. As for my uncle, who turns out to be my biological father, I already know he's here as well, but I don't have the guts to meet him yet. Mostly because I'm not ready and I know that I will burst out everything at him. Even though the reasons were valid, he could've told me in the beginning, and I'd do anything to keep his secret safe.

When Yeji found out about the revelation, she cried and hugged me, assuring me that I was still her baby sister despite having different fathers. I wonder if my older brother would feel the same way.

"Well, when will you officially meet him?" Jennifer asks me softly, and I find myself being able to withstand our eye contact.

I bite my lip. "I'm thinking of visiting his workplace at the New York Performing Arts Academy on Friday."

"He's a teacher there?" Aera asks, her eyes widening.

"Not exactly. According to Henry, Hyunjin works as a dance director and a professional dancer who has won many competitions." I tell them with a small smile on my face, as I feel proud of him. "He would share his knowledge and teach the students whenever the academy needed him to come down."

"So, how are you feeling?" Jennifer prods, her eyes appear to be examining my face.

"I honestly don't know." I sigh. "Sure, I'm relieved, but I feel a little hurt because he didn't bother to search for Yeji and me, even though it's been many years. He could've at least found some ways to contact me."

Aera pats my back in a comforting manner. "Maybe he had his reasons."

"Maybe." I smile weakly. "But whatever. What's done is done. I'll meet him on Friday."

Jennifer raises her eyebrow at me. "You mean you'll be surprising him with your unexpected appearance?"

I chuckle. "That works as well."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Sure, I'll send in the report by tomorrow." I inform one of my bosses on the phone before I end the call. He had just informed me about the upcoming Grand Prix in Brooklyn that will happen this year, where all of the F1 teams will be participating.

Presently, I'm at the art museum. I don't know why I'm here, but something just tells me that I need to be here. As I appreciate the beautiful, intricate masterpieces in my view, my mind begins to drift towards certain individuals.

My lips flatten. Although I have officially cut ties with them, I know for a fact that my heart refuses to move on from them. Heck, I even asked Henry if there was any news about them just months ago. All he got was that they had separated as well.

My heart begins to ache. Cutting ties with them is for the best. Some of them have been gravely hurt by the major incident, all because they wanted to save me. I didn't want to bring more misfortunes into their lives, and so I left. Besides, they are better off without me.

"This origami architecture is beautifully intricate with such precision, isn't it?"

My heart beats with uneven momentum while I freeze in my spot. It is as if I have been paralysed. The sound of his voice must be my imagination. But the moment I feel warmth radiating from his body at my side, I know that I'm not imagining things.

As I turn my head, my eyes are trained at his side profile, which still looks divine as ever. His hair, which used to be blonde, is now jet black, making him appear more handsome than ever. He is decked out in an all-black fit, the blouse of his sleeves pulled until his elbows, revealing his golden wristwatch.

He probably knows that I'm staring at him, but his eyes are still fixated on the origami architecture. "I had no idea you were into the arts." He says calmly.

"Jay." I finally release the breath I have been holding.

He turns his head and meets my eyes. When a small yet gentle smile touches his lips, I can feel myself slowly crumbling on the inside.

"Stella." He greets me. Such longing and sadness reside in his gaze, which makes my heart ache once more. "I'm glad to see you're doing well and healthy after all these years."

Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave. When I said that I officially cut ties with them, it meant that I left them behind without any closure and disappeared without any traces of me left behind. All because I was a coward.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice sounding shaky.

"Don't worry. I didn't stalk you or anything. I just happened to be here and spotted you. I'm here in New York solely because of business." Jay says politely, almost too formal, as though I'm one of his business associates.

"Oh," is all I can manage. I swallow down a painful lump while the backs of my eyes start to burn. I manage to give him a smile despite my quivering lips. "Welcome to New York. I hope you have a wonderful time here, Jay."

"Thank you." Jay's smile doesn't falter.

I can't stay here any longer. Seeing Jay again hurts me more than it should, especially when they probably felt hurt and angry at me for disappearing.

"I have to go. Goodbye, Jay." I look away from him before walking away in a brisk manner. I feel my fingers trembling while my throat is starting to hurt. Alas, a teardrop has fallen from the corner of my eye.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

eeing Jay yesterday brought back memories I had buried deep. Because of his unexpected appearance, I was completely distraught that I had forgotten about something. As Jay mentioned that he's solely here for business, it means that he's here for the Grand Prix in Brooklyn.

How could I have forgotten that he's an F1 driver? If he's here in New York, then that means so are the rest of them. I have totally forgotten about them being F1 drivers, albeit on different teams.

 After I entered the F1 industry and began working as an external travel manager for different teams, that was when I discovered them to be official F1 drivers. I was fortunate that I didn't work directly with them, but it's enough to knock the air out of me. Especially when they looked good in their gearing suits and were considered esteemed drivers.

"Shit." I groan, rubbing my tired face. Since I'll also be involved in the Grand Prix, there's a high chance that I might bump into any of them.

My phone chimes on the table, prompting me to glance down to see a notification.

JEN: Hey, are you free tonight? I was thinking of inviting you and Aera to dinner at my crib.

Just as I'm about to reply to her text, my ears perk up at a familiar voice. "An iced Americano for takeaway."

I whip my head to the side. My eyes trained on his back, which is draped with a beige coat, facing me. I recognise those broad shoulders of his. He looks taller than I remember.

I immediately turn around as soon as he receives his order. I hold my breath as I see him walking away from my peripheral vision. I don't know what to feel. Do I feel happy? Sad? Mad? Because the last time we talked was on the night of that gala four years ago.

Stella, don't.

But I ignore my better instinct as I grab my coat and quickly make my way out of the cafe. My eyes scan this crowd of people by the street, and then I manage to spot his figure from afar. I don't waste time and start chasing after him.

I know I shouldn't, but my heart stubbornly wants to know about what he's been doing and how he's doing. Is he already married? If he is, then does he have a child?

Thankfully, there are not many people by the time I'm getting closer to him. I pant heavily as I stop with both hands on my knees. "Jungwon!"

He visibly flinches as he stops dead in his tracks. I can only hope for the best that he won't ignore me. He doesn't disappoint when he turns around, but I'm too stunned to see how mature he looks compared to four years ago.

"Stella." He utters my name in shock.

Despite my heart aching terribly while my mind recalls the night we talked, I manage a smile—a nervous one at that. "What are you doing here?" I already know why he's here, but I needed to start a conversation.

Jungwon visibly gulps. "What are you doing here?" He counters, and I can't help but to discern how his voice sounds a little deeper.

"I live here." I tell him, my voice coming out soft. "I've been living here for four years."

"Oh," He appears to be deflated, but his face remains stoic. "I'm here for business."

"I'm glad to see you again." My eyes glance down at his fingers, noticing how empty they are. "How's marriage life?" I ask awkwardly.

Jungwon looks away from me. "I didn't." His voice is barely above a whisper.

My face contorts into confusion. "You didn't?"

I see the way his jaw clenches. "I broke off the engagement. A lot of things happened in my life, Stella." He tells me with a deep sigh before he takes a step back, looking at me with eyes that hold such inexplicable emotions. "I have to go."

"Okay." But he doesn't hear my reply as he proceeds to walk away, leaving me in the cold just as he did before.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

I am finally meeting my older brother for the first time in years. With each step I take as the academy's secretary assists me in the classroom where he is presently teaching his students, my heart pulsates, and there is a certain ambivalence about my feelings towards him.

I'm not certain how I'll react once I see him, but I know for a fact that there will be tears. Finally, the secretary pushes open the door to where there is more than one massive dance room arrayed by the hallway.

"His class is ending soon. You may wait for him here." The secretary informs me with a smile. I thank her before she proceeds to head back. As I turn my head, I spot various students inside the dance room through the acoustic glasses. My eyes finally shift to him, and I feel a pinch in my chest.

Professionalism masks his face as he teaches his students with exceptional dancing skills, but I can discern how happy he is, as if he was always meant to be what he is now. I continue to watch in silence without realising how close I am to shedding a tear.

Not too long later, the door swings open with students exiting the dance room with sweats trickling down their skin, but there are smiles on their faces as well as the chortles emitting from them.

I wait patiently at the side until he finally exits the dance room. With his back on mine, I quickly jog towards him. "Hyunjin Oppa."

Hyunjin freezes, as though hearing my voice sends him a whiplash. He slowly turns around and meets my eyes. The way he is staring at me is as if he doesn't believe that I'm real.

"After years of no contact with me, is silence all you can afford?" I force out a laugh while my chest feels constrained and my eyes are starting to sting with tears.

"Stella." He utters my name, and his face looks torn, as though seeing me hurts him. "I'm sorry."

Instead of feeling aggrieved towards him for abandoning me even though I knew that he didn't have a choice, I feel sorrowful. He left when I was only fifteen, and he had missed out on a lot, including not being able to watch me grow up. All because we were unfortunate to have fucked up parents.

Hyunjin's eyes appear to be assessing me before a small smile touches his lips, despite the sadness in his eyes. "My baby sister is all grown up."

I hold myself back from bursting into waterworks while a sad chuckle leaves my lips. "I'm not your baby sister, at least that's what I thought four years ago."

"What do you mean that you're not my baby sis? You are." Hyunjin steps forward and doesn't hesitate to place his hands on my shoulders. Tears glisten in his eyes. "I'm truly sorry for abandoning you. I had my own problems to deal with, and a lot has happened throughout those years."

"Yeah, a lot has happened, including the fact that I found out about the truth behind my birth." My voice shakes. "I'm not Minhyuk's biological daughter. Mother cheated on Minhyuk with Minjun."

Oddly, Hyunjin doesn't seem surprised. A sigh leaves his lips. "I know."

My heart drops. "You knew? When?"

"Since you've managed to find me, you probably must've found out about Uncle Minjun living here in New York as well. A year after I was disowned, Uncle Minjun brought me with him to move to New York." He explains, though he looks sorrowful. "He took care of me and supported my dreams until I managed to sustain myself after I achieved what I've always wanted. When I turned 18, that was when he revealed the truth to me."

A fallen tear trickles down my cheek. "Do you still see me as your little sister? Do you still love me the same after learning that I'm the result of Mother's infidelity?"

Hyunjin takes me by surprise when he pulls me into his embrace. The familiarity of the comfort and warmth of his arms hits me, and alas, I break down, clinging onto him as I weep. The long-awaited hug from my older brother was desperately needed.

"I promise you that nothing changes. Even if we have different fathers, you are still my baby sister." Hyunjin speaks softly beside my ear as he allows me to cry into his arms. "I'm so, so sorry for leaving you and Yeji behind."

I don't respond, and instead, I remain in his arms, feeling thousands of emotions pouring down on me. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Are you absolutely sure that it's okay for me to crash to this dinner?" I ask Hyunjin as I unbuckle my seatbelt. "What if Uncle gets a heart attack once he sees me?"

Earlier, Hyunjin and I decided to catch up on what we've missed in each other's lives, and to say a lot would be an understatement. Apparently, Hyunjin and Minjun knew about the major incident I was in, and he told me that they wanted to fly over to see me to know if I was fine, but due to unforeseen circumstances, they couldn't.

As for me, I informed him of everything, which included Minhyuk's abuse, Rena being an attempted murderer, and the fact that I used to race. I even told him about my career, to which he was happy for me as he knew that being the heir was never what I truly wanted. The only exclusion on my part is about a certain bunch of individuals.

Hyunjin turns off the ignition of his vehicle. "It's fine. Besides, aren't you family as well?"

I turn downcast. "But it's been years. He even has a wife and a daughter."

"And he's your biological father." Hyunjin counters firmly. "You know that you don't have to call him uncle anymore."

"I know, but it feels weird." I sigh exasperatedly. "Throughout my whole life, I thought he was my uncle, but then came the revelation. It feels weird to call him 'Dad'."

"You'll probably get used to it." Hyunjin ruffles my hair. "Now, come. We're thirty minutes late to dinner."

Soon, we've arrived at the porch, with me taking my time to observe the two-story modern architecture. Something stirs within me. His house looks cosy and homely. It's difficult to describe, but from the way I discern it, this house is most likely filled with a lot of love and a healthy environment.

As soon as Hyunjin presses the doorbell, we hear rushed footsteps before the door swings open, revealing a little girl who looks about eight, smiling widely at Hyunjin. "Oppa! You're here!" But then her eyes trail behind him before they settle on my face. Her smile falters. "Oppa, who is she?"

Hyunjin darts his eyes between us before he bends down to her height with a small smile. "Her name is Stella." Then he looks at me. "Stella, this is Sophia."

"Stella?" She tilts her head, examining me briefly before looking at Hyujin with a grin. "You mean, like a star?"

Hyunjin chuckles. "Yes, sweetie. She's like a star."

"A beautiful one!" Sophia's gleeful disposition brings a smile to my face. She takes me by surprise when she steps forward and takes my hand. "Stella Unnie, it's nice meeting you. Are you Oppa's friend?"

Before I can answer, another set of footsteps draws my attention, as does the familiar voice that makes my heart pound harder. "Sophia! Your mother is calling for you!"

"Kay kay!" Sophia releases my hand as she runs back into the house.

"Uncle." Hyunjin greets him as he engulfs him in a hug, while I am left stunned. My heart aches as I stare at my biological father. Despite hitting the age of fifty-five, he still looks as healthy as he was the last time I saw him.

"Your aunt was worried sick about you." Minjun rolls his eyes playfully while he still hasn't noticed my presence yet. "She thought that something bad happened to you."

"I'm here now." Hyunjin chuckles, but there is silence before he speaks up in a quiet tone. "Uncle, there's someone I think you would love to meet."

Hyunjin steps aside and reveals me to Minjun, who is staring at me as if he had seen a ghost. His eyes seem to glisten, though I'm not entirely certain to decipher the expression on his face due to how my vision is blurring with each blink.

"Stella?" Minjun utters my name in a broken whisper. "Is that really you?"

Although I initially held grudges against him, they dissipated the moment our eyes met. I choke back a sob. All I want now is to hug my real father.

"Yes." My voice cracks. "Uncle─" I am cut off when he takes a big step forward and embraces me in his arms. His arms envelope my body, feeling akin to a safety blanket that went missing for years.

"I'm so, so sorry, my daughter." His voice holds so much emotion as I tighten my arms around his figure, weeping into his shoulder. We stay in this position for awhile before he pulls away, but his hands are still on my shoulders.

He smiles through the tears. "You've grown up into a beautiful woman. I'm just regretful for not being there for you and for not telling you the truth. I truly wanted, and I did, but─"

"I know." I interject, my voice comes out soft. "You couldn't and weren't allowed to because of that monster, Hwang Minhyuk."

His hands tighten while his eyes harden at the mention of him. "He robbed me of my happiness."

I chuckle sadly. "I wanted to hate you when Minhyuk revealed the truth, but I couldn't. I could never hate the man who took great care of me, unlike the man who I thought was my father."

"There is so much I want to know, sweetheart." Minjun kisses my forehead, and his gesture is enough to bring back the tears. "But first, let's have dinner. I'm sure you must be starving."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Minjun's wife, Kelly, is a beautiful woman in her late fourties'. When she first saw me, she was stunned, but then she wholeheartedly welcomed me with a hug, as though she had known me forever. Apparently, Minjun told her about me being his biological daughter, and she had always wanted to meet me.

The two got married two years after Minjun settled in New York. They were friends until Minjun fell in love with her. He swore that he wouldn't fall for another woman, but then Kelly managed to weasel her way into his heart. Now, they are happily married and still going strong with an eight-year-old daughter.

Sophia, on the other hand, was genuinely confused when we revealed to her that I was Minjun's biological daughter, and that made me her half-sister. But Kelly and Hyunjin explained to her with lots of patience, and when she finally understood, she ran to me and gave me a big hug, telling me that she was more than happy to have an older sister since she had always wanted a sibling.

The ambience in this house is lovely and safe, unlike the Hwang Mansion. It's what I've always wanted: to be surrounded by such a loving family and a safe environment where I could talk about how my day was going, just like any other normal family.

"Allow me." I offer my assistance to Kelly in washing the dishes.

"Oh! It's fine, sweetie!" Kelly attempts to do so, but I remain resilient. Reluctantly, she yields, but a small smile dances on her lips. "You're so much like your father."

"Really?" I ask, glancing at her briefly while my hands multitask while washing the dishes. "I don't think we're that much alike."

"You two are more alike than you thought." Kelly's smile turns sad. "I'm sorry that you've had such a hard time almost throughout your life. You deserve to have a family that loves and accepts you for who you are."

As I wipe my hands with a cloth, I turn to look at Kelly with a faint smile. "It means a lot to me to hear you say that. Thank you, Kelly."

Kelly grabs my hand and holds it tenderly. "You must know that Minjun was heartbroken that he didn't get to tell you the truth and to be apart from you for so many years." She tells me with a shaky breath. "He thought he would never see you again."

"I thought too." I whisper. "I almost wanted to give up searching for him, but I knew I shouldn't."

"I'm glad you don't hate him." Kelly pats the back of my hand. "You're always welcome here, Stella. This can be your new home, too. I'm sure Sophia would be thrilled."

"Thank you so much, but I'm afraid I can't due to my job." I sigh. "But I'll be sure to visit whenever I can."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Instead of heading to my apartment after dinner ended, I requested Hyunjin drop me off at Central Park as I wanted to clear my head. Though the time now strikes 11 p.m., there are still some people at the park, but most of them are couples.

I glance down at my phone, which displays an invitation virtual card that was sent through my email. It is regarding a communal party where every professional F1 driver, the teams, and other members of the organisation are invited to attend. It will happen tomorrow night.

As I keep my phone in my pocket, I am contemplating whether to attend. A part of me is alarmed by the fact that there is a chance I may bump into any of them. If I do, what do I do? Do I run away for the second time? Do I greet them and maintain professionalism?

My heart aches again at the thought of them. There is no denying that I miss them dearly, but I know that I can't afford to be in their lives again, as I do not wish to bring misfortunes into their lives anymore. Though I love them, I've always hoped that they would find their significant other and be happy.

My steps seem to slow down as I look down, but my ears perk up at another sound of footsteps approaching, prompting me to slowly look up. I stop dead in my tracks as soon as we lock eyes. My heart begins to palpitate while my throat goes dry.

He looks more mature than the last time I saw him, and under the lamppost, I see that his hair is a new shade of magenta purple. His hair looks longer, looking like he has grown a mullet and tempting me to run my fingers through his locks.

We stand a few feet apart, just staring at each other while the ambiance feels melancholy. I don't know how to decipher the expression on his face, but as our gazes deepen, I recognise the emotions in his eyes, making my heart ache tremendously.

"Stella." He breaks the ice between us, and the mere sound of his voice is enough to have me in shambles. The way he utters my name is just the same as it was. He is still soft-spoken, as is the gentleness he emits. It's one of the reasons I fell for him.

My eyes glisten with tears, but I manage to utter, "Heeseung."

The corners of his lips upturn. "Isn't it dangerous for you to stroll in the park at night?"

"This isn't my first time." I reply, my voice becoming shakier than intended. "You're here for business as well." My statement seems to surprise him.

"I was, but seeing you here now, I guess I'm not here only for business anymore." He says softly as he takes a step towards me, and he doesn't seem to stop. I want to run into his arms so badly, but I refrain myself.

"Don't, Hee." I shake my head as my lips quiver and the tears well up in my eyes. "You're supposed to walk away from me."

But Heeseung doesn't relent, and before I know it, he is standing close to me with his hand cradling my face. "Just like you did years ago when you decided to disappear?" He asks quietly while my stomach churns with guilt. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Stella."

I can only look him in the eyes through my tears. "It's for the best, Heeseung. You know that."

"I know for a fact that your disappearance broke my heart." He whispers, bringing his face closer to mine before he leans his forehead against mine. "I never would have thought that you'd be the one to break my heart."

I remain silent as I allow the tears to flow freely. I watch as he holds my hand and raises it before planting a soft yet lingering kiss on my palm. "I've missed you dearly, sweetheart." He mumbles, placing my palm on his cheek and his hand firmly on the back of my hand. "You didn't even wait for me to wake up. You didn't even wait for me to tell you how much I loved you." He whispers brokenly.

"You shouldn't have missed me." I sob softly. "I'm not worthy of being missed by you, let alone being loved by you." I attempt to break free from his grasps, but he only holds me firmer.

"Don't." He pleads, making my heart shatter once more. "Don't disappear again, sweetheart."

"You don't understand, Hee. You can't love me, and we can never be together." I tell him with such desperation. "You deserve better than me. You'll only hurt yourself if you're tied to me."

"But I want you." I feel his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me closer until the space between us is nonexistent. I can feel his warmth with my body against him. He presses his forehead on mine, his eyes never breaking contact with me. "My body, my heart, and my soul desire only you, Stella. You're the only woman I want to be with for a lifetime."

"You must let me go." I whisper brokenly as I find myself growing weaker in his embrace. "You know you have to."

"No." I feel his lips on my forehead, kissing me. "I'm not letting you go again this time." It's a promise, and a promise he intends to keep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The strong temptation to kiss Heeseung and how weak I got made me snap out of the trance last night. Thus, I forced myself to escape from his firm grip and fled from him, despite how my heart was aching tremendously. I didn't dare look at his face because I knew that I had hurt him for the second time.

I must remain steadfast and cannot afford to feel vulnerable, just as I did upon meeting Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon. I must allow the old Hwang Stella to come to surface─when she was perceived as a cold, heartless bitch who didn't care about anything other than herself and her goals. I must make them hate me, even if they already do.

"Stel." Jen's voice brings me back to reality as I blink my eyes at her. She is staring at me with such concern. "I've been calling you many times, but you were staring into spaces. Are you okay? You look distraught."

I manage a faint smile. "I'm fine, really. I just have a lot on my mind lately."

Jen raises an eyebrow, and I notice that there are dresses draped over her arm. "Like, which dress should you wear for tonight's communal party?"

Right, I forget that Jennifer will be going with me since she's invited as well due to being the daughter of one of the bosses. Hence, she will be going with me. I expected awkwardness to envelope us when she asked me to accompany her to buy some dresses, but it has been rather pleasant. Maybe because I've been preoccupied by other things.

"I'll just wear whatever I have in my wardrobe." I shrug my shoulders.

Jen looks at me as if I had offended her. "I've seen your wardrobe before, and as much as I love your fashion sense, you have to buy a dress as well. Plus, I'm going to make you look drop-dead gorgeous and become the main event of the night."

"Jen." I heave a sigh, but she simply pats my cheek with a grin on her face.

"Trust me, babe. You'll be attracting attention. After tonight, expect to get a number from one of the F1 drivers, or more than one." Jen shoves one of the dresses into my arms. "Now, go and try this. It suits you."

I glance down at the dress and examine it. It's an off-shoulder midnight blue dress that reaches probably above my knees, and it is also adorned in glitter. I look back at Jen with uncertainty. "I don't know, Jen. This dress looks great, but─"

"Nu-uh. I'm not hearing any excuses from you." Jen proceeds to drag me into the changing room, quite literally.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Earlier, Jen insisted on doing my make-up, and so we decided to get ready in my crib instead. It was chaotic despite the fact that there were only two of us, but at the same time, I enjoyed getting ready for a party with my best friend.

Jen booked an Uber for us to get to the main headquarters, where the party is held at the reception. Presently, we are nearly reaching the location. I decide to open my phone camera to check my face another time. Jen really did a great job, especially the eyeshadows with the final touch of glitter.

"You look gorgeous, babe." Jen compliments me for the third time, probably annoyed by how often I keep checking myself on every mirror or pair of reflective glasses we are passing by. I can't help it. Somehow, I feel anxious and conscious about my appearance.

A shaky breath leaves my lips before I give her a tight smile as we enter the elevator. "You look gorgeous yourself too." I return, realising that I haven't really given her any compliments.

I dismiss how her cheeks look pinker than usual, but they are probably her blushes. In return, Jen gives me a smile, displaying her pearly teeth. "Of course! Which is why if I go missing and don't pick up your calls, I'm most likely busy with some other F1 drivers."

I simply raise my eyebrow. "Busy? Really?"

Jen smirks. "Yup. You can't really blame me. It has been awhile since I've gotten laid." She pauses, as though she realises something, before she clears her throat in an awkward manner. "Aside from our endeavour months ago"

"Hey, listen," I place my hand on her shoulder with an apologetic smile on my face. "I'm sorry for making things awkward between us."

A peculiar emotion flickers in her gaze before she assures me with a small smile. "It's fine, Stel. It's natural because we're best friends, and what happened was unexpected, but as I said before, nothing is ever going to change."

I exhale, feeling relief. I engulf her in a hug, though she appears to be flinching at my sudden affection. "I love you, Jen."

She stays silent for awhile before whispering. "I love you too, Stel." Maybe it's just me, but I sense hesitation in her tone.

Finally, the elevator chimes as it opens, prompting us to exit and make our way to the reception. As soon as we enter, I spot familiar and unfamiliar faces mingling around. The music reverberates throughout the massive reception, as do the laughter and cheers emanating from the guests.

"Oh! Tequila!" Jen stops by the drink section, prompting me to stop as well. She grabs one of the glasses before downing the content in one go. She looks at me with a grin. "I bet you'll love it! Here!" She offers me another glass to me.

As I'm about to accept it from her, my eyes widen when I spot Heeseung by the entrance of the reception. He is decked out in an all-black fit, and the turtleneck top he's wearing looks good on him. He appears to be in a conversation with two people, whom I recognise as other F1 drivers.

I immediately look away and snatch the drink from Jen before downing it in one go. As I wipe my lips with the back of my hand, Jen is staring at me quizzically. "I've never seen you drink like that. Are you really Stella?"

"I'm just really thirsty." I grab another tequila, drinking down my feelings.

"Woah, slow down, babygirl. We haven't even gone to the buffet yet." Jen places her hand on my back. Her eyes seem to be scanning behind me before they lit up. "There's my dad! You wanna follow me?"

"You go ahead. I'll catch up with you later." I tell her before she immediately weaves her way through the crowd.

As I'm walking, some familiar faces greet me and even engage me in a conversation, but I know I can't stay at one place any longer, and the chances of bumping into any of them are high.

"Team McLaren will win this round. I'm positive of it." I freeze at the sound of a familiar voice just behind me. Kim Sunoo.

"We can't be too complacent. We still need to continue practicing." Jay.

Act normal, Stella. I tell myself as I walk at a normal pace, despite the fact that my heart is pounding hard. As I'm hearing their conversation, it seems like they are too engrossed, and so I take this chance to quicken my pace.

But then, I stop dead in my tracks when I spot Jungwon from afar, with his fellow teammates. I turn in the other direction, and when I do, I curse silently. The universe must be hating me. Sunghoon and Riki. They don't seem to notice me yet, as they, too, are engrossed in their conversation.

My chest feels constricted. They look utterly handsome and gorgeous, and it hurts so bad. Though the only differences are that they look mature compared to four years ago, they do look different, and I'm not talking about appearance-wise only.

I must get away from their sight. And so I quickly make my way to the ladies' restroom. Seeing the sight of them tonight makes it harder for me to breathe, as though they stole my breath away, and my heart aches so much. All the memories I had with them, which I've buried, resurface, almost as if I'm reliving those moments all over again.

God, do those memories hurt so bad.

"Although it was just a practice, they can't screw up like that again."

I guess I'm walking too fast and too caught up in my head to recognise his voice, and before I know it, I bump into his solid chest. So much for wanting to avoid them.

"I'm so sorry─" He apologises, but the moment our eyes meet, recognition flickers in his gaze while his lips go parted in shock.

"Stella?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but I don't waste time heading in the other direction and walking away briskly. Thank God that I'm not wearing heels, or else my feet would already be hurting.

"Stella! Wait!" He calls for me a little louder from behind, which drives me to quicken my pace. I grit my teeth. Damn it, Sim Jaeyun.

It's ironic how fate wanted me to meet him, just like when I first met him back in college. How uncanny. My eyes skim through the crowd, trying to find Jen, but she is still with her father, engaging in a conversation with other fellow associates in suits.

My stomach churns with unease while my heart rate doesn't seem to be slowing down, especially when another pair of eyes have me locked, unable to look away. Sunghoon. To make it worse, he's only standing a few metres from me.

The expression on his face is akin to Jaeyun's, as though he can't believe to see me here out of all the places. He steps forward, and I can see the way his hand is trying to reach out to me. "Stella." His deep voice is discernible amidst the music that is playing.

It is ironic how the music fits the situation. It's 'we can't be friends' by Ariana Grande.

♪I don't want to tiptoe, but I don't wanna hide♪

I shake my head at Sunghoon, warning him not to get closer to me, but he's hesitating. I turn to the side, and my heart almost lurches when Sunoo and Jay spot me with their eyes widening.

"Stella!" Jaeyun stops just a few metres from me, and his gaze is fixated on me with such intent while despair sheens in his eyes. "Please, love."

♪Just want to let this story die, and I'll be alright♪

"Don't, Jake." I force my voice to come colder, and it seems to work as he visibly flinches. I must remain unwavering, and I must not forget my goal, which is to get them to hate me.

"Stella." I draw a sharp breath when Heeseung calls for me from the other side, and I'm now surrounded by them. They all look and sound genuinely shocked to see me. Of course, they would be. They never expected that I would be one of the major external travel managers in the same industry as them.

♪We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend♪

It's getting harder to breathe, and I feel overwhelmed by them. I know I said that I would remain unwavering, but right now, I just want to curl up into a ball and bawl my eyes out. Seeing their faces up close only hurt me deeply, like a knife slicing my heart.

"Stella, what are you doing here?" Sunghoon asks as soon as he recovers, and his eyes harden as they stare right into mine. "After disappearing on us four years ago, you had the audacity to show up like this?"

The sheer hatred he emits feels familiar, reminding me of when we used to be enemies. I guess we are enemies again, especially with the way he looks at me.

I don't respond, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't, because the next thing I know is that someone has dragged me out of their sight in a swift manner, as though he knew I needed some saving.

"Jungwon." I mutter his name numbly as I allow him to drag me somewhere else. I can only stare at the back of his head, wondering if he feels just as shocked as they are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

We are at an empty meeting room, which is situated in the reception area, but just a little further from where the people are partying. I watch Jungwon in silence as I sit by the window sill while he paces back and forth with his fingers running through his raven locks.

I hold myself back from flinching when he directs his sharp gaze at me. "What are you really doing here out of all places?"

"I've been invited, of course." I answer curtly, hating how his intimidating disposition makes me feel small. "If I weren't invited, I would've gotten kicked out."

"I get that, but how?" He asks, looking bewildered, but then realisation hits him as his eyes go wide. "Unless you're working for F1."

I manage a bitter smile. "There goes your answer." I stand, smoothing down my dress. "Anyway, thanks for helping me to escape. I should head back now."

Just as I'm about to open the door, Jungwon puts his hand firmly on the door, preventing me from opening it. I shoot him a glare. "Yang Jungwon."

"I'm not done with you yet, Stella." A muscle ticks in his jaw, looking oddly attractive.

I scoff in disbelief while my mind recalls the last time we've ever talked. "We've been way done since that night at the gala. You said so yourself, or have you forgotten?"

"I know what I said, and there hasn't been a day where I don't regret it." Jungwon steps closer to me, prompting me to back up against the door. I maintain eye contact despite how flushed I feel by the distance between us and how the air around us shifts into something a little more dangerous.

"Then why did you do it?" I ask coldly. "I even insisted that we remain friends even though you would be engaged to another woman."

"Don't you get it, Stel? I don't want us to be just friends." His eyes darken, making me deflate by the intensity. "I didn't want to marry anyone that wasn't you, but you seemed nonchalant about it and the fact that you still insisted on us being friends."

My breath catches in my throat as the distance between our faces is dangerously close. I find it getting harder to breathe. "Jungwon."

"I didn't want you like a best friend, and even now, I desire only you." He caresses my cheek gently, but I sense danger still lurks beneath it. "I want to be yours, Stella."

My eyes flicker at his lips. Just one movement, and our lips collide. Just one. But I know better than to fall into the temptation.

I force myself to shove away any affection or familiar sentiments as my eyes turn colder. "Step away from me, Jungwon."

He doesn't deter. "Not until you give me your answer."

"There is no answer." I grit my teeth. "I suggest you drop this. From the moment you left, we were no longer friends or best friends. You're just a stranger to me now."

Hurt resides in his gaze as he staggers a step back. "You don't mean that. The Stella I knew wouldn't say those."

"The Stella you knew is dead." I continue to speak with such resolution. "Move on, Jungwon. Because I did."

I swing the door open and immediately leave him in the room. I can hear my heart breaking as I realise how I managed to hurt him. I blink away the tears that collect on the rims of my eyes.

As my eyes drift to the view in front of me, my lips flatten once more while my stomach churns with the previous unsettlement. I have a feeling that tonight is going to be a long night.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The advantage of throwing the communal party in the massive reception is that the majority of the guests are within the main section of the party, so I won't have to worry about anyone stumbling into this area or listening. The last thing I need is for anyone to learn that I have an intricate history with the Formula One stars.

The music sounds faint as I maintain unwavering eye contact with them. Though my facade must've been cold with such resolution, my heart is pounding hard against my chest. I should've known better than to assume that this night would be going just fine without having to face them.

But something appears in my mind amidst the melancholy brimming in the atmosphere. Are they finally on good terms with Jungwon, who didn't bid them goodbye or even closure?

"You were with Jungwon. Where is he?" Sunoo asks, and even as he is the first to break the silence, it isn't enough to dispel the melancholy in the air that seems to feel suffocating with each passing second.

"I don't know." I reply, maintaining my poker face. "Surely, you guys have his contact information, right? Then call him."

"You think it's that easy?" Sunghoon scoffs, the hostility he emits feels nostalgic. His eyes are so cold and filled with hatred. "You don't even know the things we've all been through."

"Because you chose to disappear, like a coward." Riki adds as he leans his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and for the first time, he looks just as resentful as Sunghoon. "We would've been fine if you'd told us that you didn't want to stick around us any longer, but no, you chose the same method like Jungwon did to us."

"Ni-Ki." Heeseung looks at him, as though he is warning him, but Riki doesn't relent as he leans away from the wall and stalks towards me with his glare burning straight into my eyes.

"Let him." Sunghoon tells Heeseung. "She deserves to hear what he has to say for all of us."

Riki continues, and with each word he speaks, it is as though it is venomous. "Instead of checking on us to see if we were okay after we had saved you, you chose to abandon us without a second thought. You're just the same as Jungwon. Both cowards."

"Ni-Ki, enough." Jay says sternly, but earns a glare from Sunghoon in return.

"Was Ni-Ki wrong for saying all those things? Look at her! She doesn't even look the slightest bit remorseful!" Sunghoon exclaims.

I choose to remain silent as they start to bicker amongst each other. Little do they know that they're wrong. In fact, I did check on them. I did have second thoughts.

"I just don't get it." I speak up, drawing their attention. My hand curls into a fist at the side. "Why are you all acting this way? Why are you all hurt by the fact that I left?" My voice is resounding as I try to remain unwavering. "We weren't anything beyond friends. Just like what they all used to say, I'm just one of your girls."

"What has happened to you, Stella?" Sunoo asks sadly. "Why are you being this way?"

"I'm right, aren't I?" I ignore the stinging pain in my chest. "I was there to satisfy your wants and needs. I was just─" A painful lump appears in my throat while the back of my eyes are beginning to sting. "─a slut to entertain you lot until you'd get bored of me."

"You're not a slut, Stella." Jake doesn't bother to hide the fact that he is hurt by my statements as he stares at me with such devastation.

"How could you ever think like that?" Heeseung asks in a broken whisper. "We loved you. I loved you, and I still do."

Don't cave in, Stella. I mask my true feelings as I release a humourless chuckle. "You still don't get it, do you? You can't love me because─" My heart starts to bleed, "because I don't love you." I ignore the way most of them visibly flinch, as if I had hit them. "Just as I said before, we weren't anything beyond friends, and we certainly can't be friends."

"I hate you." Riki's whisper is resounding, enough to reach everyone's ears. He stares at me with such resentment, but he can't hide the pain written on his face. "The Stella I knew wouldn't be this heartless. I hate you."

"Ni-Ki." Sunoo sighs exasperatedly as Riki leaves the area before he chases after him.

"You're being cruel, Hwang." Sunghoon clenches his jaw, and amidst the hatred, I can see glimpses of heartbreak in his beautiful eyes. "Did my confession four years ago mean anything to you? Did we even mean anything to you?"

"I'm not being cruel. This is me slapping reality on all of you—that you are better off without me, just as I am." The lie tastes like poison on my tongue. "Whatever feelings you have for me, I'm not going to reciprocate them. We wouldn't work out, anyway."

"You don't know that." Jay steps forward, his hand reaching out for me, but he pauses before letting it fall to his side.

I shake my head. "It would be wise for you to forget me and move on with your lives."

As I turn around with the intention to run away for the ninth time, I feel a hand latching itself around my wrist firmly. "You think it's that easy for us to forget you?" Sunghoon's voice cracks in between, tugging at my wrist. I feel tears prickling in my eyes, but I don't turn around to look at him or any of them, or else they would catch glimpses of my true feelings.

"Please, just move on." I plead, gritting my teeth. "You'd only hurt yourself if you continued to stay hopeful that I'd return."

"Guess what, princess? You've already hurt us by breaking our hearts four years ago." Sunghoon says. "They're not going to mend by themselves unless the owner who broke our hearts mends them."

I forcefully yank my wrist away from his grasp before looking at him through blurry vision. "Then find someone else to mend your broken hearts." I tell him harshly, though my heart is screaming at me once more for hurting them.

"Stella, please." Jay pleads, looking as vulnerable as ever. "Don't be difficult."

"The only ones who are being difficult are you guys." I turn my back on them, but as I do, I spot Jungwon just a few metres away from us. The expression on his face is hard to decipher, but I'm certain that he heard everything. "Don't approach me, and don't talk to me again. If you do, I'll pretend not to know you." I say my final piece, and my voice wavers at the end.

I don't waste time walking away from them briskly with a fallen teardrop sliding down my cheek. As I busily try to wipe it away, I halt my steps when I see Jen in my view. The way she is looking at me tells me that she has been eavesdropping on us.

Jen glances behind me before she grabs my hand and takes me somewhere.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jen brings me to one of the lounge rooms, being careful that no one follows us. She closes the door while I settle myself on the mini-couch, feeling numb from whatever happened. My eyes remain fixated on my hands, and I don't look up as Jen sits next to me.

"You've probably heard everything, or at least most of it." I say quietly.

"I'm sorry." Jen sounds apologetic. "I was searching for you, and when I saw you with them, I couldn't help but to eavesdrop." She places her hand on my back. "The Formula One stars—they're the guys you told me about before."

I nod my head sullenly as my lips quiver. "I managed to hurt them." I look at her with a wavering smile while tears are brimming on the rim of my eyes. I chuckle brokenly. "It's what I wanted, and it's my goal. To hurt them so they won't have to be tied to me just as they did before."

Jen's eyes soften. "I understand, and I'm not picking sides, but from the way I perceived it, they do seem genuine, and they love you, Stella."

"That's the problem, Jen. They can't." I croak out, the tears are finally spilled. "It's for the best. I don't want anything to happen to them like the incident four years ago."

"But that was in the past, when you were in Seoul." Jen counters as she brushes a fallen lock from my frame. "Now that you're out of there, you can do whatever you want now. You're no longer tied to your past."

"You don't understand. Even if I'm no longer tethered to the Hwang name, my past will eventually catch up to me." My hands tremble on my thighs as I recall a certain memory that engraves deep in my mind. "I don't want to risk anything, especially when Hwang Minhyuk isn't done with me."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Jen's face turns serious. "Stel, what are you not telling me?"

With one look at her face, I burst into more waterworks, prompting her to bring me into her warm embrace as I cling to her while my mind drifts off to flashbacks.

▰▰▰▰

As soon as I recovered, the law enforcement officers paid me a visit and informed me that Minhyuk had made a request to meet me. Yeji was hesitant, but something told me that it would be wise to meet him before I left Seoul for good.

So here I was, facing the devil himself, with a clear glass in between us. It felt good to see him in his prison uniform after knowing the amount of blood he had spilled. I felt nothing but pure hatred and resentment as I glared at him, especially after knowing that he had killed Mary. What's worse was that he didn't even look remorseful.

"So why did you want to meet me?" I broke the ice, and my voice had no traces of warmth. "Surely, it couldn't be an apology, especially coming from a monster like you."

"You are right." Minhyuk smirks coldly at me. "I heard that you'd be leaving Seoul for good, but did you really think that you'd be safe even if you decided to fly to another country?"

"Your threats don't scare me, and you can't hurt me anymore." I stated in a monotone manner. "Seriously, you're wasting my time─"

"You ought to be careful, Stella, because trust me when I say that I will rise again, and this time, I will not fail and I will not miss." Minhyuk cuts me off sharply.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. "Let me guess, you're going to kill me again."

"Not only you. I'll kill the people you hold dear. Starting with those guys who you spread your legs for!" Minhyuk sneers at me, and this time, I felt chills down my spine. "You ought to be careful, Stella. You may never know when I'll rise again."

"The law won't allow you." I counter firmly.

Minhyuk chuckles. "You have no idea how influential and powerful the Hwangs are, do you?" He slowly rises from his seat, looking down on me with such animosity. "Heed my words, Stella. Wherever you go, they go, and when I find them, I'll be sure to carve out their hearts and deliver them to you on silver platters."

This time, I didn't hold back from the anger I was seething with. I abruptly stand, my seat flinging away. "Don't you dare hurt them, you sick psycho!"

Minhyuk took pleasure in seeing me in this state. "I was right. You love them. This makes everything easy and delightful."

I gritted my teeth. "I'll have you imprisoned until the day you die, Hwang Minhyuk."

Minhyuk startled me when he slammed his hand on the glass, and his erratic behaviour alerted the guards. "Don't underestimate what I can do, Stella!" He struggled in the guards' grip as they attempted to bring him away. "Mark my words! I won't let you have your happy ending! I will find you! You hear me, Stella?!"

I staggered a step back as my chest started to hurt while Minhyuk was still shouting in the background, cursing me, until he began to fade.

▰▰▰▰

Yeji was being careful as she eyed me cautiously with the way I walk, though I was still limping slightly due to the injury on my thigh, thanks to Rena, who was currently behind bars. Like father, like daughter.

"I just need to see them one last time." I told Yeji as we stopped outside of the room where the guys were in separate beds. Just earlier, I stopped by Jaeyun's private room, where he was regrettably still in a coma. I watch with my heart aching at the sight of Riki, Sunoo, and Jay conversing with small smiles on their faces. Sunghoon looked asleep, whereas Heeseung was still in a coma due to the fatal injury to his stomach.

"I'm done." I said shakily as I wiped the tears away from my cheeks. "Let's go, Unnie."

"You know, you don't have to leave them like this." Yeji held my arm as we walked away. "Yes, they hurt you when they revealed their involvement in their parents' schemes, but even I can tell that they genuinely love you."

Yeji didn't know another reason why I was doing this. She only thought that I was still reeling in hurt from the revelation that they became closer to me due to their parents' schemes. She didn't know about the promising threat Minhyuk told me yesterday.

"It's for the best, Unnie." I told her as I held back my tears. "They will move on and forget about me eventually."

Yeji could only sigh at my adamant behaviour. No matter how much she tried to persuade me, I would remain steadfast. Besides, I'd rather have them hate me for leaving than risk their safety just because they got tied to me once more. Yes, I believed in Minhyuk's warnings. That monster was capable of anything.

I'd rather die than allow anything to happen to them a second time.

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[vinylandcoffeecollection]

we neeeeed another gatty interview this drought is killing me

We really do Anon - I love interviews, especially the “Couple Therapy” style Matty and G ones! Tape Notes and the Sodajerker podcast have to be my favourites. Might start a series of my fave interview clips. What are everyone else’s favourites?