#((I think this makes it easier for people to read ))

[hugintheraven]

We as a society have put a lot of weight on Labels. Which makes sense, humans love categories and putting people in boxes. But Labels are not static and they're not concrete. They're a summary. A quick indicator of what's going on.

Are you(person reading this, not OP) trans? Are you a different gender than the one you were assigned at birth? Those are very big questions to most people because they involve changing the label. Here's a slightly easier one:

Would changing something about your gender make you happy?

(I did say only SLIGHTLY easier)

Don't think in terms of your identity or how the world will react to you. Just think about what you do and don't like about yourself and how things are going right now, and ask yourself how you can change those. Start small, if you want, but start.

Idk who needs to hear this but you don't need "signs" to tell you you're a girl. You don't need it to hurt in your guts either. You can just want to try it, and you should.

In retrospect, many of my memories can be analysed as a sign of being trans. But the key point here is "in retrospect". I didn't see any of that before realising I'm a girl. I didn't even feel dysphoria before realising I didn't want to be masculine.

6 months ago, I just thought I was a good ally with every sign of being cis. If you feel like this and you love trans people and think they're so cool and think being trans is really beautiful, maybe just try new pronouns and a name online. No one who matters will be mad at you for doing it.

Had I seen a post like this, I would've figured myself out 3 years earlier

@gnome-de-official

[canine-witch]

What Do People Desire From You ~ Pick A Pile

I channeled a question today through a song. The song is in French, but the album art was a young lady looking behind her, her back facing the audience. The question "what do people desire from you" popped into my head, and I decided to make this reading to bring clarity.

Drink some water, pick a pile, and feel free to reject what does not resonate. Check at the bottom of the reading for channeled songs.

☁️ kofi - pac masterlist ☁️

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile One: The Carousel

People desire your destiny. You are beginning something new. Maybe a new job, a new hobby, or moving out of your current home. People around you can sense that you're going through a transition for the better, and want what you have.

You may not see yourself the way that others do. You may feel like you are running in circles, trying to catch up to everyone else. A force pushed the oracle card indicating this, trying to hide it from view. People do not want you to know that this period of questioning who you are and why you're doing any of this, will lead to a better life. They are scared of you leveling up, and leaving them behind.

Your best option at this moment is to lay low. Take time for yourself, find direction in your life. Know that you have enough time to do all you need and then some. It may not feel like you are moving forward, but all that you are accomplishing is not in vain. Don't let them cover your star, move in silence and grace, and learn all you can.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Two: The Fountain Stairs

People desire your spirit. You may be a reader yourself, or some kind of energy worker or psychic. You have won multiple conflicts in your life, coming out on top and letting your light shine. You may be shy and wary, but this is because you have overcame much alone, and you aren't willing to get into more fights. People see this, but they are still fighting their own battles, and want you at their side.

There is something about you they cannot have. You have a heavy energy of creation and manifestation, able to make what you desire become reality. Others don't understand that the reason you are able to do this is through hard work, work they can do themselves. This is not a talent, this is a skill you have developed. They want you to fight their demons or others with them.

You need to look in yourself and ask if you truly want to fight with these people, or for them. You are weary from life, even if you are a young person, and you are not willing to break your personal peace at this point. But, these people could mean something to you, or be able to stand on their own eventually. Listen to your heart, draw cards for yourself, or have a reading done with the question, "Should I fight for them?". Your answer can only come through your spirit.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Three: The Aviary

They desire your mind. You are highly gifted, highly attuned, and highly intelligent. You may feel trapped in your own mind, unable to escape your own intellect. You may be able to recognize patterns before other people. You have avoided much disaster and conflict through your intelligence, some battles you didn't even know you avoided. You are highly attuned to justice, blind to your emotions and relying on logic, even while perhaps being a spiritual person. This aspect of swords with you has caused conflict, many have said that you don't feel enough emotion. But, they secretly admire you and desire your intelligence.

They are envious of your intelligence. Often in our world, people place intelligence on such a high pedestal, and think that your life automatically becomes easier when you are as smart as you are. You have left many places with people like these, jealous people who always tried to one up you and halt your progress, without looking inwards to their own strengths.

You need to just be yourself. Don't worry right now about expressing yourself emotionally. You need to accept your logical side before you even think to begin working on emotions. People who wish you the worst are oftentimes the one begging you to respond in anger or sadness, when that isn't you, no matter how "healthy" it may be. This does not align with your personality. Use your head, learn all you can, and accept you are not a person who's first idea is to work off emotions.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Pile Four: The Garden Windows

They desire your ability to detach. You may have been told before that you are quick to anger and overly aggressive. That you must be gentler and give people second chances. You know that your strength keeps you safe and keeps people out of your life, and you are angered by people's insistence to coddle them. I am seeing a strong force with you, one that is highly intuitive and spiritual. You know yourself, and you know what is good for you. You are able to easily leave situations which are not in alignment with your higher self nor what you need at this time. People envy this ability to detach and want better for yourself.

They want your fire to be settled, like a campfire. They want to warm themselves and their egos with your praise and attention, but they have not earned it. I am feeling a heavy sigh or speaking from anger with your energy right now. But, your confidence in yourself is faltering, as it seems nowhere is the right place, and nobody is the right person. Do not stray off your path. Those who leave and fall away, do so because they cannot walk this path with you. You are facing the darkest parts of yourself and improving your mind and soul every day.

You expect greatness of yourself, and those around you. This makes you a true friend. Be patient, be still, ask questions, and live with your lonliness, even learn to cherish it. You are your own best friend, and you can never leave yourself. Learn to take the best only, even if it hurts sometimes.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

Channeled Songs:

Pile One: did i tell you that i miss you by adore

Pile Two: Hate by ThxSoMch

Pile Three: Teen Idle by Marina (and the Diamonds)

Pile Four: YKWIM? By Yot Club

pac requests open! Thank you so much for your time and energy, have a wonderful day!

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *

[almostempty]

it’s not that deep but it is that serious!

(editing and reblogging to clarify a couple things at the end of the post)

I just want to come to this app to talk about deep throating mean!Joel and to make friends with other hot freaks. But I need my fellow heathens to hear me out for a moment.

I’ve tried to keep this space a little escape from reality, but that’s not a realistic privilege because life and art are inherently political.

I saw @penvisions receive some particularly cruel racist hate last month. I saw @gothcsz receive a snide racist anon message a few weeks ago. I know these issues aren’t new for our Black and brown peers.

I see a lot of folks jumping to offer support and to express their disgust at the racist remarks.

I also see a lot of shock and disbelief and I want to talk about that.

Racism, bigotry, and prejudice are not new issues for Black and brown folks. If you find yourself shocked, surprised, and outraged when folks share the hate they receive I ask that you reflect on this. It’s a privilege to be surprised, to not be used to navigating and experiencing that vitriol.

I know it’s well intended when folks say things like, ‘if you’re a racist piece of shit get off my blog’ or similar messages, and i understand the anger and frustration.

I also don’t think anyone who is aware and actively spreading hate will be deterred. I imagine there are 4chan incel type trolls that just thrive on the attention and reaction of using the most inflammatory language they can, and trolls will troll. They inevitably will pop up.

What I want to address is the levels below the overt and active hate. The accidental or inadvertent covert racism. The micro aggressions. The passive silence or enabling of rhetoric that lets folks perpetuate harm without even thinking.

Black and brown creators in our community have been disregarded or overshadowed when they speak up about diversity or inclusion in this fandom or feeling unwelcomed.

They wade through oceans of moodboards with faceless, thin, white women paired with our favorite characters. They power through reader inserts with freckles, red marks, and pink pussies that say and do things they might never feel safe saying or doing in those universes. They scroll through bad Spanish or fetishized latino caricatures and romanticized colonial values. And they still show love and support by commenting and reblogging and uplifting other writers.

Maybe there are footnotes about the moodboards only being for inspiration, but that doesn’t erase the constant messaging that it was easier to find those pictures and add a note than to search harder or leave the pictures out.

When I saw a fic with a detail about the pedro character having a confederate flag in his trailer I had to pause. This is a perfect example. I don’t read this as malicious or intentionally harmful. I understand the stereotype it’s rooted in and the general humor of the story as a whole. I get that it’s a small detail and that racism wasn’t a core part of the character or the story.

But if we sit with this longer.. what does this tell our Black and brown peers? When the reader notices it and it’s just as notable as a calendar on the wall? And she fucks him willingly anyway?

Hate symbols aren’t unserious. Background or not. Imagine writing a Joel fic and giving him a swastika tattoo just as a background detail. Sounds extreme right? Maybe you’re writing an AU felon Joel and just trying to show how hardened and dark he is. Maybe in your headcanon he only got it in prison to protect himself and he isn’t a racist.

But to nazis it says this is a safe place to be. To the general audience it says you don’t care if this makes them feel unsafe or invisible.

To folks reading that a confederate flag isn’t a big deal, it signals that it’s an acceptable symbol. It shows that people are reading and commenting and sharing this story and are unbothered. That maybe people don’t even notice.

I’m not asking anyone to send hate and I’m not writing this as an attack on the author or anyone who shared the fic. We don’t know what we don’t know, but we have the opportunity to learn!

I am asking my peers to step in and step up, because I think y’all are smart and capable of more.

I am not an expert on anything. But as someone who went to grad school for social work — a field that only exists to combat the societal harm of power, privilege, and oppression — I don’t take it lightly. I work in advocacy fighting discrimination and prejudice from institutions built on systemic racism daily. I’m aware that I have the privilege of training, language, and awareness around diversity and inclusion, and that not everyone has the same knowledge or experience.

I also know this fandom is full of incredibly smart and well spoken folks who craft moving stories and analyze characters with nuance and passion.

I’m not interested in censoring what anyone writes and I happily abide by don’t like; don’t read.

If I only wanted to read I would stick to ao3. But I’m here and I stay here because of the community. The friendships and the extra tag games and challenges and support and camaraderie.

I know I make mistakes myself. And I know it can be uncomfortable to be called out for something you never intended to hurt anyone with. I know it can feel like your voice won’t be heard or your experience won’t be validated in such a big space.

I shared a post a while ago by a creator that doesn’t write for this fandom. It was an ode to Black fanfic writers in general, and in the comments Black writers were tagging each other to show love. And I knew there was something wrong when I wanted to share it but felt deeply hesitant about tagging anyone because I didn’t want Black writers to receive hate.

One of my favorite things about this fandom is how global it is. Getting to make friends with folks around the world is such a treat. I also know racism and fascism are not unique to one region.

It’s Black history month in the states and in Canada. I know other countries observe Black history month in other months. It’s an intentional observation for a reason.

For us, this is a hobby. We’re here voluntarily, and mostly anonymously, but we’re all people. Community is so vital to thwarting the dangers of fascism and hateful rhetoric.

This IS a post about racism.

But racism is absolutely entangled with sexism, classism, ableism, ethnocentrism, capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, patriarchal hegemony, etc.

This isn’t just a rant. It’s an ask. I’m asking my peers—writers, readers, gif makers, lurkers, etc.— to help.

Reflect on what you share and post. Think about how others perceive you.

I’m asking my peers to be curious and open to discussions. To ask questions if you see covert racism. To be willing to accept feedback.

We can be gentle with one another.

Like, ‘hey, I saw this and am wondering if you’re aware of the origin or the impact it might have?’ or ‘can I share how this may be misinterpreted or harmful?’

Be kind sure, but be an advocate!

If you see someone posting about a character being their ‘spirit animal’ — send them a DM! If you read something that stereotypes a race, let the author know! There’s plenty of online resources for writing characters from other races without falling back on harmful tropes.

And even better… support your Black and brown peers. Share their work. Show them you value their presence in the fandom.

I encourage folks to read fics with original characters or reader characters with explicitly diverse ethnicities and tell the author you appreciate that character! Recommend the work to friends.

I never shut up about how much I love @furious-rogue-stuff ‘s Heat and the story is incredibly compelling *because* the reader is a Latina written by a Latina.

Anyway, I come to this hellsite to laugh and be horny—but at my core I am an ethical hater and I only wrote all of this because I care and I want this space to be inclusive.

I’m not speaking on behalf of anyone else and I don’t want to speak over anyone. I’m open to feedback or ideas.

I’m tagging some mutuals I interact with and some that I don’t know very well, not to curse y’all with reading my long winded post but to ask: when you have the capacity will you help take action to make this community stronger? Will you commit to being open to feedback and growth?

Bottom line I just wanna read about getting railed by that fictional guy and I want my Black and brown peers to have the opportunity to enjoy the same escape from reality.

I feel like this is worth posting because I think y’all can make a difference. So many of y’all write and analyze stories and characters with such nuance and passion and detail—and that’s why i believe you can help spot subtle and insidious forms of racism and make real changes.

TL;DR: I’m asking everyone to be proactive when you see microaggressions or covert racism in the fandom, and to be willing to accept feedback and learn from each other. Being passive is a luxury and a privilege our marginalized peers do not have. Let’s be more than performative or not racist. Be active. Be anti-racist.

some tags for folks (no pressure to share, I don’t want attention I just want to encourage folks to take time to reflect or let me know what you think idk): *not calling anyone out as having committed any offenses just feeling compelled to share the message i guess

@auteurdelabre @joelmillerisapunk @lotusbxtch @probablyreadinsmut @ace-turned-confused @baronessvonglitter @yxtkiwiyxt @slimybeth69 @bitchesuntitled @thundermartini @sin-djarin @strang3lov3 @mermaidgirl30 @for-a-longlongtime @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @evolnoomym @wannab-urs @sanarsi @yopossum @almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @syd-djarin @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

to anyone: please start conversations or reach out to me or send me an anon ask if you want to discuss something or share, idc but i’m begging y’all to listen to each other and advocate for one another and be open to self-reflection 💗 editing to add: if i tagged you it was not a callout that i think you've done something specific to reflect on-- just a general invite to join me in being intentional and to invite feedback if you have any! if i made anyone anxious i apologize! - to clarify when i said 'it's not that deep' i mean that maybe fanfic is easily brushed off as not that deep, but every blog is a real person (minus the army of porn bots) and we form real connections in this community <3

[steveseddie]

pencil me in

written for the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event | prompt: heart | rating: t | wc: 1,5k | tags: pre relationship, misunderstandings, dramatic eddie

read on ao3

Eddie arrives at Steve’s house with a mission– he’s finally going to ask him out on a date. A Valentine’s Day date where he’ll romance the hell out of Steve.

If he says yes, that is.

Eddie has his doubts, of course he does, but he also has reasons to believe this might work out. Reasons to believe that Steve might like him back.

Those are what gets Eddie to the front door where he rings the doorbell before whatever doubts he has make him turn around and leave.

His resolve falters slightly when Steve opens the door, dressed in sleeping clothes but somehow still looking as beautiful as ever. But he bounces right back when he notices that the shirt Steve is wearing is his Black Sabbath shirt. Little things like these are what make Eddie think he might actually score a date today.

“Eddie, hey.” Steve flashes him that lopsided grin that Eddie thinks he saves just for him. Another one of those little things.

Eddie waves, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hi, Stevie.”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Steve says, pushing his hair back. A stubborn strand of hair falls back over his forehead, making him huff in annoyance. “We– we didn’t have plans, did we?”

Eddie tsks. “I’m offended you think you could forget you and I had plans. Do you care so little about me?” He asks, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

Steve’s eyes dart to his lips for a split second before he rolls them. “Okay, drama queen,” he says, fondness lacing his tone. “Do you wanna come in or not? I was just about to have coffee.”

“Well, when you offer so nicely,” he teases, patting Steve’s cheek as he steps into the house.

He follows him to the kitchen and watches as he pours coffee in two mugs. The whole time Eddie is nervously playing with his rings, thinking about what he’s here to do.

He stops only when Steve hands him one of the mugs. “There you go. There’s milk in the fridge and I already added two spoonfuls of sugar.”

Eddie can’t help but melt like he does every time Steve remembers details about him– the way he likes his coffee, that he hates pickles, that strawberry is his favorite milkshake. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, walking to the fridge while Steve takes a sip from his own coffee. Black, like a heathen.

See? Eddie remembers things about Steve too. Then again, he’s also in love with the guy.

Time to do something about that, Eddie thinks.

“So, uh, Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he says, trying to steer the conversation where he wants it.

Steve leans back against the counter. “Mhm,” he hums into his coffee. “Are you going door to door telling people Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic holiday and an excuse for companies to make more money?”

Eddie clutches his chest. “Harrington, did you actually pay attention to my rants back in school?”

Steve chokes on his coffee, a slight pink tinge shading his cheeks. “N–No, I mean, I might’ve heard some of it, you’re loud, man. ‘S not like I had a choice.”

“Sure, Stevie,” Eddie says, shooting him a dimpled grin. “Anyway, no, I didn’t come here to lecture you about holidays being capitalist days of overconsumption.”

Steve tilts his head. “Why did you come here then?”

Eddie’s stomach churns as he realizes this is it. His fingers tighten around his coffee and he remembers he didn’t grab the milk. He thinks that something to do while asking Steve out might make things a little easier.

“Yeah, so I was thinking–” he starts, reaching for the fridge door, but the rest of the words die in his throat when he notices something on it.

See, like the Mother Hen that he is, Steve keeps a calendar on his fridge where he writes down everything from work shifts and doctor’s appointments to after-school pick-ups and group movie nights.

The first time Eddie saw the calendar, he wanted to call Steve a dork and tease him for having to keep track of his kids like that. But when he saw his name there, something warm bubbled up in his chest at the reminder that he was part of the group, of their lives, of Steve’s life. That they didn’t drop him as soon as the Upside Down was defeated. And just like that, making fun of Steve didn’t seem so important anymore.

Now, several months later, Eddie’s name is all over the calendar, but this time, that’s not what shuts him up.

No, it’s the word date written on the tiny square for February 14th, and the heart drawn around it.

Of course Steve has plans for Valentine’s Day. Of course it’s too late for Eddie to ask him out.

Of fucking course the moment he finally decides to make a move on Steve, he’s already got himself a date with someone else.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, snapping Eddie out of his spiral. He tears his eyes from that damn heart and glances at Steve, who’s waiting for him to finish what he was saying.

To finish asking him out. Except, he can’t do that anymore.

“I– I have to go,” he says instead, leaving his untouched coffee on the counter and backing away.

“What?”

“Yeah, I forgot I– I have to help Wayne with– uh, something.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “Eddie–”

“Thanks for– for the coffee,” Eddie stammers out.

Steve huffs. “You didn’t even drink it.”

He takes two steps towards Eddie, who takes two steps back. “Sorry, I– I have to go.”

“Weren’t you gonna ask something about Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks when Eddie pivots and heads towards the door.

“Nope! Bye, Steve. Have fun with your date!”

“My– date?” Steve’s voice is laced with confusion. “Eddie, wait!”

Eddie doesn’t want to. He wants to leave, but Steve grabs him by the arm and pulls him to an abrupt stop.

He still won’t meet Steve’s eyes, though. At least not until Steve gives him no other choice by cupping his cheeks and forcing Eddie to look at him. He can’t help the way his stomach flutters at the touch and how close their faces are like this, and he has to remind himself that Steve has a date. This doesn’t mean anything.

“Why did you really come here, Eds?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Steve huffs, his thumb brushing over Eddie’s cheek. “Because for a moment it seemed like you were here to ask me out on a Valentine’s Day date.”

Eddie groans, averting his gaze. “Steve, I said it doesn’t matter now–”

“Yes, it does!” Steve repeats, his arms falling to his sides in frustration.

Yeah, well. Eddie is frustrated too, damn it.

He crosses his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t because you already have a date!”

“Says who?”

“Your calendar, Steve!” He snaps. “The heart? The date you’ve got scheduled for Friday?”

“Yeah,” he says, “with you!”

What?

Eddie blinks. “But– you haven’t asked me.”

“I was going to,” Steve says softly. “But then you beat me to it.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, his heart picking up speed. Steve was going to ask him out. Holy shit.

“Yeah. So, are you gonna finish what you started or should I?” Steve says, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a tiny smirk.

This time, Eddie doesn’t hesitate, his doubts gone now. “Stevie, do you want to go on a date with me on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, Eds, I do,” he says, his smirk turning into that lopsided grin he saves just for Eddie.

He only gets a glimpse of that grin before Steve swoops in and presses their lips together, softly at first. When Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat and grabs a hold of his own Black Sabbath shirt to pull Steve closer, he kisses him harder, his tongue darting out and swiping along Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie parts his lips, letting him in. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders and stumbles back a few steps until his back hits the fridge, knocking a couple of magnets to the floor.

At the sound, Steve pulls back, his eyes focusing on something next to Eddie’s head as his lips twitch upwards. Before Eddie can ask what he’s looking at, Steve grabs the marker stuck to the fridge and writes something on the calendar.

Curious, Eddie turns his head. Now where they used to say just date Steve added something else.

Date with Eddie.

That same warm and fluttery feeling from the first time he saw his name there comes back, only tenfold. And so does the need to tease Steve.

“Can’t believe you had our date scheduled even before you asked me,” he says with a shake of his head. “That’s pretentious of you, sweetheart.”

Steve shrugs. “I was right, wasn’t it?” He says, grinning smugly.

With a laugh, Eddie agrees. “Damn right, you were,” he says, pulling Steve in for another kiss.

[happyk44]

[ID: 1. Post from @/zmije: I think soulmates are real but they are made not found and also they are your friends

2. Illustration. A person lies on a bed. Their hand hangs off the edge of the bed. Three different coloured strings - yellow, green and blue - are tied around their index finger and fall to the floor before brancing off in different directions across the floor. The colour scheme is predominantly gray, so the colours of the strings stand out

3. Post from @/bichopalo: i think being a little in love with your friends is crucial

4. Text reading: [Chorus]

They put one foot in front of the other

Two best friends in love with each other

5. Illustration. Graffiti on a red wall depicting two people. A white figure stands and reaches out to a black figure sitting down, facing away from the from. The white figure is small, hidden inside a black figure sitting down and facing away from the other person. The black figure is outlined in dark purple, which is outlined in light purple, which is outlined in blue, then turquoise, then green.

The initial black figure is also small. They rest inside a large white figure reaching out to the other person. This figure is outlined in light yellow, then light orange, then orange, then a pale red, then a reddish green that wraps around the outlines of the other person.

6. Post from @/killingmyselfbutnotdying: "Friends don't look at friends that way" COWARD. I look at my friends with awe in my eyes, my chest is filled with love, I'm glowing because I get to be near my friends. I look at my friends and I would give them my everything. SO SKILL ISSUE, look at your friends with all the love that you have

7. Three pain cards with black text on them. The paint cards are the 34C-a group. Individually they are: 34C-1 Rosewater, 34C-2 Blushing Pink and 34-3 Grandma's Apron. The text reads, "Distance means so little when someone means so much."

8. Post from @/sadlekane: you're laughing. i told you a joke and you're laughing. i love you

9. Quote from Friedrich Nietzsche: "I love you. I feel as though we were never strangers, you and I, not even for a moment."

10. Illustration. Two people reach for one another. The two shine bright like stars in the night sky. Beneath them, it reads, "I think my heart knew you before its lifetime."

11. Post from @/elytrians: big fan of platonic expressions of devotion actually. yeah we're best friends of coure i'd find you and hang out with you in every universe.

12. Illustration. A grassy field covered in yellow and pink flowers beneath a soft sunrise sky. Two black birds fly by. Light green grass grows in the formation of two people holding hands.

13. Post from @/mushysuggestion: i wish the world was kinder to you. i wish your past had been easier. but i hope i can make your future something to look forward to.

14. Text reading: To Emry

I've never felt this much love for a person before. I hope someday to find the words to express it.

15. Text reading: It's pathetic, I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was... not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you.

16. Illustration. Two people face each other. The person to the left is outlined in yellow, red and purple. The person to the right is outlined in purple, blue and green. Red dots are draw in the upper corner of their chests, connected by a thin red line. The person to the left's left arm connects and merges with the person to the right's right arm.

17. Text reading: And you are my best friend

And I have always known you

/end ID]

on friends and soulmates and that type of love that feels like it's going to burst right out of your heart

@/zmije / @/leptodiera / @/bichopalo / lyrics from two best friends by bb bean / animatedjames on youtube / @/killingmyselfbutnotdying / unknown / @/sadiekane / friedrich neitzsche / katfish draws / @/elytrians / @/wormbus-art aka @/angel-pond / @/mushysuggestion / the unsent project / mhairi mcfarlane / unknown

[teastudieseveryday]

Spring cleaning & personal learnings:

I rarely ever post anything personal, but these have been my learnings of 2024:

Your social media account is your personal sanctuary, you can block/delete/remove/not follow back/unfollow people at your own whims. You can choose to block out what you don't want to see and the energy you don't want to be around. You aren't obliged to appease to people for validation. You rock with you, you do you.

Hanging out with unmotivated people who speak fear and negativity into themselves will slowly turn you into a negative/pessimistic/cynic like them even if they support you, energies matter, energies are silent!

Make your phone boring if you want to achieve something in life.

Not everyone needs to know about your plans, sometimes not even your best friend. (this is to say, a lot of us aren't blessed with pure hearted besties who genuinely want for us what we want for ourselves)

Motivation doesn't work, sometimes discipline fails too. Fear is a good tool; fear of failure works on days when motivation and discipline doesn't.

Subconscious rewiring and manifesting can change lives if done correctly and persistently.

No aim is big enough. Just point, aim and shoot!

Always monitor your own personal energy, you need to be energetically healthy to feel good about yourself and your goals and to show up consistently every day.

Some people aren't nice, they won't like you probably because you threaten their social status and it's totally normal to remove yourself from that zone instead of diminishing your light or shrinking yourself to make them feel safe and their alpha status feel less threatened because why? Why would you be less and not more of everything? You can choose not to fight for the attention/love/validation to be seen and heard and make an Irish exit from such spaces. Be where you are celebrated, not where you are tolerated! Such a quote to live by.

Pick your battles, not every battle is worth fighting.

Don't say anything you don't mean. It's very simple.

No revenge, just outdo yourself and the revenge gets taken care of.

Silence is great, not as a power move but because silence gives other people the space to speak, express and be themselves. You don't do power play with your own people; you give them the space to open up to you and be their authentic self.

If you sense powerplay, your best bet is to exit that space. You'll constantly be at an invisible battle in a group/with that person where both will try to take control of the dynamics in that setting and it will end up being a whole lot of mental gymnastics and loss of energy.

Redirect your energy towards bigger and better things, towards things that truly matter.

Reading is great, it inculcates a sense of gravity in your mind about the things you're passionate about, you don't blabber excessively in spaces that genuinely don't matter in the bigger scheme of things, and you build an air of importance and there's this 'chad' like air around you which intimidates people, and they think twice before challenging you to some debate because they know you hold a command over your subject and niche.

Not everyone is your friend. some people are here for your energy, some people are genuinely supportive of you and your goals, some people are not very happy about your small wins and big dreams. All in all- trust your intuition in these instances.

Be authentic about your expression and feelings, life is finite, we will die one day, there's no point being ambiguous or nonchalant about how you feel. Losing to someone in this area of life is far better than being emotionally constipated. Collect good karma and you'll be rewarded likewise in the future!

Your energy does reach the room before your words do, so be self-conscious in a way where you carry yourself with integrity and move with poise.

I watched this reel which I resonated with 100% it went like- life is easier and better when you are a chad, you work out, take care of yourself, do skincare, read, journal, listen to affirmations, cut off negativity, do dopamine detox etcetera. Life's just better when you are a chad, and yes that's so true. I see zero lie in that.

You aren't obligated to lookout for people who aren't fending for themselves.

Your perspective matters, if you think all men are shit you'll encounter a majority of men who are shit; if you think life sucks, it will continue sucking; if you think math is hard, it will continue being hard for you to grasp. So think 'my life is on easy mode' and watch things switch. Law of assumption is powerful.

Choose the right people: certain people bring a certain side out of you. The chirpy & secure ones make you feel secure in yourself, the naysayers bring out a more self-doubting side out of you, the spiritual ones help you get in touch with your own spiritual side. I chose to be around softer people this time, not edgy, not cold, not harsh, not judgmental. I was around accepting, kind, generous, gentle, softer people and I felt a whole shift in my own aura, I feel more confident than ever, more accepting towards myself and I am gentler to the other people I meet. Choose the table you want to sit on and be affiliated to, because that's who you'll become and that's what your external & internal narrative will turn into.

I hope this resonates with some of you and gives you some perspective.

[flickeringquip]

(1) You've always been a little wary of the Magnate.

(pt. 1 | feat. @thedolmainblog's Aiden — I promise this will go somewhere more exciting in the next part askfhbaf)

From the moment you'd been close enough to actually watch them interact with others, something had pinged in your hind-brain, warning you away.

Then, it had been easy to listen to. Your work for Landry didn't really necessitate you interacting with them much at all, beyond a nod or two in passing. You weren't much for meetings — for all that you played a large part in intel-gathering, you left the more administrative work to your other co-workers.

You could do it in a pinch, but why would you with more capable hands there and at the ready?

(1) Now, however. . .

Things are more complicated, now that you're dating Blythe. The good kind of complicated, obviously, but definitely an adjustment.

Like right now, for example.

You'd mentioned off-hand watching a movie that it'd be fun to bring him lunch some time, and the way his entire countenance had brightened had had you silently committing to the idea even as he assured you that you didn't have to bother.

For all that he's your boyfriend, you don't always understand Blythe — for someone so willing to re-arrange his entire living room overnight because of a furniture piece you'd admired in passing, he struggled to fathom you might wanna do nice things for him too.

(1) Mostly, this just made you want to do more nice things for him. Like you could somehow out-spoil his attempts to spoil you.

And so you find yourself in the lobby of the town's biggest office building, lunch*-turned-care-package in hand and trying not to feel wildly out of place in your jeans and long-sleeved crop-top.

(*Bought, and not made, because you'd tried that once and discovered hours later that you'd given Blythe what was definitely food poisoning, despite how he tried to convince you otherwise. You would just lie if he asked.)

It takes a little bit before you can grab the receptionist's attention because you'd inadvertently seemed to come at a bit of a rush, sequestering yourself off to the side more out of habit than necessity — people seemed to very, very rarely bump into you these days, but old habits and all that.

(1) You do end up coming up a bit short when they ask you what your business is.

You'd been pretty sure Blythe had mentioned being around the office today, but it dawns on you only then that maybe you should've texted him before you came for some sort of confirmation — but it's not much of surprise if he knows you're coming, now is it?

But you also don't think he has an office to speak of, for the same reason you've never needed one at the Bar.

(1) So you. . . Improvise?

"Can you tell me which floor I can find Aiden's office?" You lift the paper bag in your hand by way of explanation, "I brought lunch."

The man's face twists like he's bitten into a lemon as he stares between you and the bag like either of you could explode at any moment.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Oh, no, but I'm not here to—"

"The CEO is a very business individual; you need an appointment, even for. . . social calls."

Rude. No need to say it like that.

"I mean, yeah, of course they are? But if you'd just listen, I'm actually here to see B—"

(1) A sharp ding from the receptionist's computer steals both of your attention, and you watch the man's face contort even further in confusion as he steals yet more glances between you and your carefully-selected lunch.

"You. . . can go ahead," You think you should maybe be a little offended by their blatant shock at this turn of events, but mostly you're still a little baffled, "Top floor, just go straight— and behave yourself!"

Did jeans really make you look like some kind of ruffian, or have your years of criminal work started to affect your countenance?

You continue mulling over that thought all the way up, a little fascinated that you're not stopped even once along the way despite how many floors you pass.

You arrive, greeted by a set of double doors at the end of a short hallway — and spectacular views to either side of you, glass replacing much of the walls for a bird's eye view of most of the city. You admire the sights for only a moment before turning to the doors, hovering for a moment as you're once again reminded that you don't actually know if Blythe is even in the building at the moment.

(1) You. . knock?

You rap your knuckles against the solid wood, and wait just long enough to start second guessing yourself before you hear an electronic lock open, and take that as your cue to open the door.

The first thing you notice is that the space is immaculate — straight out of some rookie secretary's dream office, or at least what you imagine someone's dream office to look like.

The next is Aiden — obviously, this was their office (building) — smiling at you from their desk as they give a little wave of their fingers.

And, last but certainly not least— No Blythe.

(1) . . .Well, shit.

"Aster, what a pleasant surprise."

Tension snakes up your spine before you shove it back down, determined to at least seem at ease with your boyfriend's boss as you turn your attention to them. It's strange to hear them say your name, though you suppose it's not that weird for them to know it, between your connection to Blythe and length of time you've been working for Landry.

"Hi Aiden," You cringe a little at your own informality, but give them a tentative half-smile and lift the paper bag in your hand, their gaze brightening in understanding, "Is Blythe around?"

"He was, but I just sent him on a bit of errand — I'm afraid he won't be back for a couple of hours."

You nod but don't ask any questions — you're still pretty twitchy about potential conflicts of interest. It's about the only thing in your relationship that still gives you anxiety, not that you've breathed a word of it to Blythe. With all that he does for you already, you really don't want to put anything more on his plate.

You don't know what you'd do if Landry asked you to steal Intel from Aiden, but so far you're really just banking on your boss not deciding to give you what is basically a suicide mission any time soon.

(1) You give a hum in response, lips twisting as you glance down at the bag. You'd sooner surprise him with dinner and do lunch another day than give him old leftovers, but you're not really hungry yourself—

You glance back up at Aiden, who is still watching you with the same genial smile they've always given you, halo glittering above their head. Something about them still unnerves you, but the feeling weakens the longer you study them.

. . . The worst thing they could say is no, right?

"Are you hungry?" You venture closer to the desk, still feeling a little skittish but committed to offering, "No sense letting it go to waste."

For a half-second, you think maybe you've surprised them — and then they're smiling again, expression a little bit warmer, halo a little brighter.

"I suppose I could squeeze in a break," They stand, and for once you find the usual alarm bells silent as they feature to a small seating area near the windows, "—If you'll join me for tea in exchange?"

And, well.

Maybe you'd put a little too much stock into what was just an assumption? Wouldn't it be nice if you got along with Blythe's boss? Maybe it'd even help with some of your lingering anxiety?

Maybe you were just being paranoid?

(1) And thus began the beginning of the end your friendship(?) with Aiden.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

River Below 9

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, bullying, illness, and other possible triggers. Warnings are not exhaustive and will not include plot devices/elements.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life in the Banks is tough but one man can make it worse.

Characters: Rafe Cameron

Note: Vday fic taking me some time so here ya are. Also, Ward is tiptoeing his way into this lol.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

Work is daunting the next day. Your head hurts, you barely slept, you just couldn’t settle for the night. And your body is inexplicably sore. You walk to work with a weight in your legs and chest. 

Each step is a challenge as you know Rafe will be waiting for you. He’ll have had all night to stew in his anger and humiliation and think of a dozen ways to take it out on you. 

It’s not your fault. You didn’t want to do that. You didn’t ask him to. He made you get naked and he couldn’t… perform. You almost feel bad for him.  

You come up the back steps of the shop, rickety and creaking beneath you. You reach for the door but it opens before you can even find the keys. You nearly fall backwards into the dirt as you take a step down. You’re surprised by the face that greets you. 

You expect the younger Cameron, not the elder. You blink dumbly at him as he bids you ‘good morning’. In a moment, his stern expression brightens and he smiles as he steps back, welcoming you in. You accept with a nod and sidle past him inside. His closeness has you quickly flitting to the row of hooks over the low bench where you hang your bag. 

“Didn’t know you were opening,” he says. 

“Um, yeah, sir,” you take your apron and loop the strap over your neck. 

He closes the door. Odd, he seemed to be on his way out. You reach back to tie the loose straps around your waist. 

“You’re a hard worker,” he comments as he crosses his arm, stepping closer, just past the door. He leans on the wall, one foot hooked over the other, “honest… can I ask you something?” 

You hesitate and press your palms to the front of the apron, just against your stomach. “Yes, sir.” 

He chuckles, a rocky noise. He’s amused by you. You don’t know why. 

“My son. Rafe. He been in?” 

“I just got here–” 

“Yesterday?” He interjects. 

“Oh, uh…” you think back. You don’t know if you should tell the truth. You saw Rafe, just not at work. 

“I don’t remember, Mr. Cameron,” you clasp your hands together, “it was pretty busy–” 

He nods and clicks his tongue. He watches you, combing his finger through his dark hair. He pushes away from the wall, dwarfing you as you curl your shoulders inward. 

“You’re a hard worker. I admire that. Wish my son had that in him,” he puts one hand in his pocket, “he’s got too much of an attitude.” 

You push your shoulders up in half a shrug. It isn’t your place to say so. 

“Haven’t seen him much,” you lie. 

“Ah,” he takes a breath, “well, you just let me know if you get any of that attitude. I’d hate to think of him treating you mean.” 

“He mostly stays upstairs,” you squeak, “sir, I should… I should start opening.” 

He considers you. His bold eyes hold you in arrest. There’s something in them that reminds you of Rafe. You repress a shudder. 

“How about I help?” He offers. 

“What, er, sir?” You blanch. 

“Yeah, I’d love to get my hands dirty,” he says, “it’s humbling, you know? Lot of people out there buy these places and treat it like a number in their portfolio. I think this place has potential. And you. Would do my son well if he got down here in the grease, too.” 

“Erm, okay, sir, if you like, but...” you hesitate. Will Rafe be mad at you? It’s not like you can say no. Not to either Cameron. “Um, you might mess up your clothes though.” 

He looks down at his button up and leather belt. You know it’s probably expensive. He shops at places you never even heard of. 

“How about an apron? You got a spare one?” He suggests. 

“Oh, sure,” you turn and grab the apron that used to be Arlene’s. You offer it to him. He smiles and thanks you. 

“You just pretend I’m new, alright? Like you’re training me,” he explains as he loops the apron over his head. “Honey, do me a favour and tie me up.” 

He turns his back to you. It takes you a moment before you get his meaning. You grab the strings as the dangle at his side and draw them back to tie around his back. He seems bigger as you stand close. You let go and back up. 

“Great,” he spins and claps his hands, “show me the ropes, honey.” 

Your lips purse. It’s so strange. He's so nice but his son is so mean. It confuses you. For a moment, you think of telling him. Maybe he could set Rafe straight. No... no. That’s stupid. Just like you. 

“So I turn the grease heaters on first,” you redirect your attentions to the work; that’s easy, you can do it. Anyone can. “I always check first, see if the grease needs a change.” 

He hums and nods, shadowing you closely.  

“They take some time, so I get the coffee going next. In the morning, it’s what people get the most.” You lead him to the machine and pull out the basket with yesterday’s filter. He watches intently as you empty and rinse it. Your hands are clumsy as you tear open a packet of pre-weighed grinds. 

“I’m making you nervous,” he says. 

“Sorry, sir, I’m... I’m tired, that’s all.” 

“You work hard. I saw the schedule. Almost every day.” He muses. 

You nod, “yeah, er...” 

“I know, it doesn’t pay too much, does it?” He sniffs and holds out his hand. “Let me.” He takes the packet and rips into it easily. He pours it into the filter. “I can still figure out coffee.” 

“Um, next I start the french toast mix. We do waffles on weekends only.” 

“Right,” he shuffles with you. “You live in-town?” 

“I live... down near the shore, sir,” you answer, “down on the banks.” 

“You know, my son, he just never got that. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to lift himself up. I’m trying to give him that. I want him to do that with this place. Work from the bottom,” he puts his hands on his hips as he looms over you. You pile ingredients into a large bowl and whisk. “Like you are.” 

“Sir, I... I’m just a pogue,” you mutter. 

“You’re a person. You got someone to take care of, don’t you? They keep you working.” He remarks. “You’re young...” 

“My mama, sir. She’s sick but... we manage.” 

He’s quiet as he continues to observe your diligent work. “Can’t underestimate hard work. If I was my son, I’d start with a pay raise but I’m not gonna do the job for him. He needs to figure that out.” 

“Yes, sir,” you set the bowl aside and pull out a loaf of bread so it’s ready. 

“Get the grill going for sausage and craw,” you instruct next. 

“See, you got the mindset, honey. You focus. I can’t make this place any better but my son will get there. He is mine, after all,” he chuckles. “how about...” he pauses and exhales as he thinks, “you could come work with me. Two days a week. Cut back on shifts here since they got the new bodies in.” 

“Sir? For you? But I... I only worked here for a couple months.” 

“You learned fast, didn’t you? You’re showing me around like a pro,” he shrugs. “It’s nothing big. Just need someone to help me out with some clerical work. Filing or whatever. It’ll pay better than here, even with tips.” 

“Sir...” you blink at him. It’s not a true escape but it might get you some space from Rafe. Or it might make him hate you more. 

“You drive?” He asks. “It’s up away from the banks. I could get you there. Send a car.” 

You don’t know if you can say no. Not just because it could lose you both jobs but because you need the money desperately. Your ma needs to see the doctor again. 

“No pressure,” he assures you. 

“Sir,” you look up at him, “can I think about it?” 

He smiles and rubs your arm, lingering on your shoulder with a squeeze, “take your time. I’ll leave you my number. You can let me know.” 

☀️

You get home without obstacle. It doesn’t comfort you. You can sense trouble lurking. It might not be right now, but it’s coming. 

Rafe never showed up at the stand. Ward left and the rest of you went through the motions. You smell like fish and grease. The others swore to silence and loaded up a bag for you to take to your ma. 

She’s happy when you hand it over with a large diet coke. She thanks you as you watch her. She was always right. About everything. Maybe she can help you figure this out. 

“Ma,” you twist your fist around your finger. “I... I need help.” 

“Help?” She looks alarmed as she keeps from biting into the cajun chicken. “You sounded like you were struggling last night. Everything okay?” 

You blanch. Did she hear everything? Does she know? 

“Oh, I was trying to fix that old VCR,” you have to hold back a cringe at the lie. “But that’s... no. Mama, I... I got an offer for a new job. I’d still be working this one but, er, this new one... I don’t really think I’d know what I’m doin’.” 

“You’re smart, baby, you’ll learn,” she preens and takes a greedy bite. You wait for her to finish. “That’s so exciting. A new job!” 

“It’s um... it’s way up... out of the banks.” 

“Out of the banks,” she tuts. “That’s far.” 

“I know, mama, but Mr. Cameron--” 

“Cameron?” She jerks as if she’s been doused in ice water. “Ward?” 

You frown, “that’s him, mam.” 

“Oh...” she chews another mouthful and thinks. “He’s a rich one.” 

“Yeah, he bought the chip shack--” 

“He did? When was that?” 

“Weeks ago,” you sway. “I guess it’ll be too much. Not worth it, huh?” 

“Well, it’s your choice, baby,” she stares at the bag then crumples the top. “I just worry about you goin’ so far.” 

“I didn’t say yes or nothin’,” you assure her. 

“I think if you wanna, you should try. You never know what could happen, right? Could be a step up to an even better place,” she nods. “It’s just... them people up there, the kooks are real different than us. They don’t like us.” 

Pogues don’t like you either. You don’t say so but you don’t see much of a difference there. You smile thinly. 

“I’m still thinking,” you say.  

You flinch at the noise on the roof. You look up in unison with your ma. She grunts.  

“Hope it’s not them dang shingles ‘gain. Can’t afford to have it nailed down.” She mutters. 

“I’ll check, ma,” you grimace. “It could be a gull again. They tryna build their nests all over.” 

You back out and head to the front door. It’s just another tick in the yes column. You need to fix the roof, properly, not to mention the rest of this place. 

As you come out, a rock bounces off your chest and you clatter against the door. Rafe stands across from the front steps with a handful of stones. You touch your chest as it throbs and cross the crooked porch. 

“Been tryna get you out here. Was about to come in and introduce myself to the mammoth. Thought those were extinct.” 

“Don’t talk about my ma,” you sniffle as you cross your arms. 

“Or what? You gonna lay there like a corpse again?” He snaps. 

You furrow your brow. You only did what he said. He must be mad because of well... his thing not working. 

“I got an idea,” he chuckles. You notice he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday. 

You stare at him. Waiting. 

“Should I come in and let mama hear or are you gonna get your ass over here?” he scoffs. 

You tramp down the steps and he tilts his head at you. His eyes narrow and he reaches for your arm. He jerks you toward him. You collide with his stomach. He grabs the back of your neck and his other hand comes under your chin. 

He holds you against him as he snarls down at you. His hand shifts along your throat. “You’re so pathetic,” he sneers. “Small, nothing.” His fingers curl into your scalp. “Feel that. Feel the power I got over you? I could break your neck and leave you out here for the old lady to holler for... no one would care.” 

“Yes, sir,” you croak at him. 

“Come on. You lead the way,” he shoves you so you stumble and fall on your ass. “You pogues know all the hiding spots. Let’s go find one.” 

[kaiyunsim]

all i want —

pairing : popular boy!jay x gn!reader

summary : your main objective is to gain the attention of the popular boy, park jongseong, and once you do some things don't go to plan.

warnings : angst, ANGST, like quite literally the littlest amount of fluff, college au, featuring heeseung and jake, huening kai from txt, yunah from illit, yunjin, chaewon, and sakura from le sserafim.

a/n : BACK TO DOING REQUESTS !! this was the modren au of the pierrot request (i hope it turned out like you liked anon!)

queueing : all i want - olivia rodrigo

[requested]

— wc : 3.9k — not proof read ! —

you don’t think you’re in love with jay park...

really, you don’t.

but there’s something about him that makes you pay attention. the way he walks through campus like he belongs everywhere, always greeted by someone, always flashing that effortless, lopsided grin that seems to make people forget whatever they were talking about before he arrived. he’s just that kind of person, the type everyone seems to like without him even trying.

and maybe that’s why you notice him.

you wouldn’t call it an obsession, not even close, but you do find yourself looking for him in crowded lecture halls, in the dining hall, at whatever random student event yunah drags you to. it’s not on purpose. not really...

“it’s a little on purpose,” kai says one afternoon, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth as he gives you a knowing look.

yunah snickers beside him, chin propped up in her hand. “a lot on purpose, actually.”

you roll your eyes. “you guys are exaggerating.”

“sure,” yunah says, dragging out the word like she doesn’t believe you at all. “so you just happened to sit right in his line of sight at lunch yesterday?”

“it’s not my fault that’s where the only open seats were.”

kai snorts. “right. and you just accidentally wore your nicest jacket that day, too?”

you huff, turning your attention back to your food as heat crawls up your neck. okay, so maybe you put a little effort into your presence around jay. but can you be blamed? it’s not like you’re the only one who notices him. half the school probably has a crush on him, and why wouldn’t they? he’s good-looking, confident, and way too charming for his own good.

but unlike everyone else, you want him to notice you. so try and you make it happen.

it starts small, passing by him in the library and making a quick comment about whatever book he has in his hand. holding the door open for him when you both leave the same building. sitting just close enough in class that he might overhear you cracking a joke to yunah or kai, just in case he finds you funny.

and eventually, he does notice.

the first time jay actually acknowledges you beyond a passing glance, it’s in the middle of a group study session for one of your shared classes. the conversation shifts to a ridiculous debate over the best late-night snacks, and when you confidently declare that convenience store ramen at 2 a.m. is objectively the best, jay raises an eyebrow at you.

“that’s the most broke college student thing i’ve ever heard,” he says, but there’s amusement in his tone, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

you shrug. “i never claimed to be high-class.”

he laughs at that. a real laugh, not just the polite kind. and for the first time, his full attention is on you.

it feels like a win.

after that, it’s easier. jay doesn’t just glance past you anymore; he acknowledges you. he returns your passing comments with witty remarks of his own, sometimes even initiates conversation. he’s not overly warm, not the kind to suddenly become your best friend overnight, but you can tell he enjoys the back-and-forth. and that’s enough.

for now.

yunah, of course, is convinced this is all hilarious. “you’re playing a dangerous game,” she warns one evening as the two of you walk across campus. “this whole ‘subtly inserting yourself into his life’ thing? it’s a lot.”

“it’s not a lot,” you argue. “it’s casual.”

“right,” she says, dragging the word out again.

kai, when you recount the conversation to him later, just shakes his head. “i give it a month before you start actually falling for him.”

you scoff. “i am not falling for jay park.”

but kai just gives you a knowing look, and something about it makes you uneasy.

because if you’re being honest, completely honest, you’re not sure if he’s wrong.

you don’t expect jay to start texting you.

sure, he acknowledges you now. you exchange jokes in class, he actually meets your eyes when you speak, and sometimes... sometimes. he even leans in when you say something, like he actually cares about your words. but that’s different from texting.

so when his name pops up on your screen for the first time, you nearly drop your phone.

jay park: did you get the notes for today’s lecture?

it takes you way too long to process those six simple words, and even longer to figure out what to say back. because, sure, it’s a normal text, nothing special, but it’s jay. texting you. on purpose.

your fingers hover over the keyboard. do you play it cool? act casual? should you tease him about it? no, that’s too much. you settle on something neutral.

you: yeah, want me to send them?

the read receipt pops up almost instantly.

jay park: yeah, thanks. appreciate it.

you send a picture of your notes and lock your phone, setting it face down on your desk like that will stop you from overanalyzing the situation.

“you good?” yunah asks, raising an eyebrow at your suddenly frozen state.

kai, always observant, glances between you and your phone and immediately narrows his eyes. “no way,” he says slowly. “don’t tell me—”

“jay texted me,” you blurt out, then slap a hand over your mouth like you just confessed to a crime.

yunah’s eyes go wide. “shut up.”

kai looks like he’s waiting for a punchline. “you’re lying.”

you flip your phone over, showing them the screen, and instantly, yunah grabs your wrist to pull it closer while kai gapes at you.

“oh my god,” yunah breathes. “he has your number?”

“i—yeah?” you laugh, feeling a little dizzy. “i mean, i didn’t give it to him, but i guess he got it from someone.”

kai groans, leaning back in his chair. “this is it. this is how it starts.”

“how what starts?” you ask, even though you think you already know the answer.

“you, falling headfirst for this guy.”

you scoff, but the warmth in your chest betrays you. “it’s just a text.”

yunah smirks. “for now.”

—

the texts don’t stop.

it’s nothing excessive, mostly casual messages about class, sometimes the occasional comment about something that happened that day. but then it starts shifting.

jay sends you a meme once, completely unprompted. you stare at it for a full minute before sending back a laughing emoji, unsure of what reaction is expected.

jay park: thought you’d appreciate that one.

you: oh, so now you’re studying my sense of humor?

jay park: maybe. gotta keep up with you somehow.

and just like that, it starts to become something more.

it’s little things at first. he responds faster, starts teasing you more, even initiates conversations that aren’t about class. you notice how his friends start giving him looks when he talks to you, how heeseung nudges him in the ribs when he passes you in the hallway, how jake smirks every time jay lingers near you after class.

one night, you’re sitting in your dorm scrolling mindlessly when your phone buzzes.

jay park: we’re getting food. you in?

you blink at the message.

you: we?

jay park: me, heeseung, jake. maybe a couple others.

it takes you a second to process. jay park, who you’ve spent weeks trying to get to notice you, is inviting you out. voluntarily.

you don’t even hesitate before typing out a response.

you: where?

—

when you show up at the burger place jay mentioned, it’s easy to spot their table—mostly because jake is laughing way too loudly at something heeseung said.

jay catches sight of you first, raising an eyebrow. “didn’t think you’d actually come.”

you scoff, sliding into the open seat across from him. “why invite me if you thought i wouldn’t?”

he shrugs, smirking. “figured i’d give you a chance to prove you’re cool enough to hang with us.”

“and if i’m not?”

“then we’ll kick you out, obviously.”

heeseung snorts. “nah, you’re fine. we need someone to humble jay every now and then.”

“i don’t need humbling,” jay says, rolling his eyes.

jake just grins. “sure, man.”

the night is surprisingly easy. conversation flowing effortlessly, laughter coming naturally. you don’t miss the way jay leans back in his seat, arms crossed as he watches you banter with his friends, like he’s assessing you. but he doesn’t seem bored. if anything, he looks amused.

and when the night ends, as you’re heading back to your dorm, your phone vibrates again.

jay park: not bad. you might actually survive in our group.

you bite back a smile.

you: gee, thanks for the approval.

you don’t think too hard about the fact that jay park, who could easily ignore you, who used to barely acknowledge you, now texts you first. now invites you out. now looks at you like you’re someone worth paying attention to.

but maybe, just maybe, you should.

you don’t hesitate when jay invites you to the party.

it’s casual. the way he mentions it, the way he shrugs like it’s no big deal. but the moment he says, you should come, there’s no question about whether or not you’ll be there. you tell yunah and kai immediately, mostly so they can’t talk you out of it.

"this is a terrible idea," kai groans as you drag him toward the house, music already thudding through the walls.

"but we're already here, so you have no choice," you grin, nudging him forward.

yunah, always up for chaos, just laughs. "it's one party, kai. let them live a little."

"yeah, yeah," kai sighs. "just don’t say i didn’t warn you."

you roll your eyes but don’t say anything. because tonight—you know tonight is going to be different and it starts off exactly how you want it to.

jay finds you fast, like he was waiting. he’s got that easy grin, a drink in hand, eyes bright under the dim lighting.

"look who actually showed up," he says, bumping his shoulder against yours.

"what, you didn’t think i would?"

he tilts his head, considering. "nah. i figured you'd follow me anywhere at this point."

you scoff, shoving him lightly. "you're delusional."

he just laughs.

but the thing is... he doesn’t leave your side.

he finds ways to stay close, to lean in when he talks, to rest an arm on the couch behind you like it’s second nature. every little thing. every glance, every smirk, every low-spoken joke, feels intentional. like he’s choosing to focus on you.

yunah shoots you a look from across the room, eyebrow raised, like shes saying 'oh, so we’re winning now?'

you grin, triumphant. maybe you are.

and then the door opens, and everything changes.

you don’t see her at first. but you feel it. the shift in energy, the way jay stiffens slightly beside you. you follow his gaze, and there she is.

huh yunjin.

she steps in like she belongs here, and maybe she does. kura and chaewon are right beside her, laughing at something she says. she’s glowing, not literally, but she might as well be, because suddenly, it feels like she’s the brightest thing in the room.

jay notices. of course he does.

but it’s how he notices that gets you.

his body shifts, attention snapping to her completely. he doesn’t call out to her or wave her over. he just watches, eyes sharp, focused. you recognize it instantly. it’s the same way you’ve been looking at him.

"ah, shit," kai mutters under his breath, low enough that only you hear.

yunah catches it too. her expression hardens slightly, but she doesn’t say anything.

you swallow down whatever weird feeling creeps up your throat. "it’s fine," you say, even though no one asked.

because it is fine. yunjin doesn’t even notice jay yet. she’s too busy greeting people, laughing with her friends, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she’s in a movie. she’s effortless. natural.

jay shifts beside you, sitting up a little straighter, like he’s bracing himself.

and then, as if the universe is playing a joke on you, she looks over and jay moves before you can process it.

he doesn’t leave entirely, doesn’t abandon you completely, but he leans forward, elbows on his knees, suddenly more present. more intentional. his usual laid-back smirk fades into something more composed, like he actually cares about the impression he’s making.

it’s subtle, but it’s there. and you notice.

you always notice.

because it’s different from how he is with you.

yunah squeezes your wrist under the table. you barely realize you’ve gone quiet.

you breathe in, slow. force yourself to smile.

"i need another drink," you mutter.

kai frowns. "you good?"

"yeah," you say quickly, already standing up. "i’m fine."

but the thing is, you’re not so sure anymore.

and the next thing you know, you wake up with a headache and the vague memory of kai shoving water into your hands last night, telling you to drink this before you pass out on my couch.

turns out, you did pass out on his couch.

the ceiling above you is unfamiliar, but the weight of a blanket over your shoulders and the distant sound of yunah humming in the kitchen reminds you where you are. kai's apartment. safe.

your head is pounding. maybe you drank a little too much last night. maybe you just needed an excuse to forget the way jay looked at yunjin like she was the only person in the room.

kai walks past the couch, arms crossed, unimpressed. "so, you really wanna do this to yourself?"

you groan, pulling the blanket over your face. "what are you talking about?"

"you know exactly what i’m talking about," he deadpans.

yunah walks in, placing a bottle of water and a slice of toast on the coffee table. "you were quiet the whole walk home. that’s never a good sign."

you peek out from under the blanket, blinking at them. "i was tired."

"you were thinking," yunah corrects. "about him."

you don't answer, but the way you hesitate says enough. yunah and kai share a glance, then sigh at the same time.

"this is bad," kai mutters.

"this is really bad," yunah agrees.

you sit up slowly, stretching out your sore limbs. "guys, it’s not that deep."

kai gives you a look. "not that deep? he spent the whole night staring at someone else while you were right there. and you still think it’s not that deep?"

you shrug, even though the memory stings. "i never expected anything from him."

"that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck," yunah says gently.

you don’t answer. because what are you supposed to say?

yeah, it sucks. yeah, i noticed the way he changed when she walked in. yeah, i feel like an idiot.

instead, you just take the water bottle and sip slowly.

—

the thing is, jay doesn’t ignore you after the party. if anything, he starts texting more.

but the texts aren’t what you expect.

hey, do you know where yunjin usually gets coffee? i feel like she mentioned a favorite café before. any idea what it is? does she have a type? just wondering lol.

the first time it happens, you stare at your phone for a long time before answering.

the second time, you laugh to yourself, because of course this is how it’s going to go.

the third time, you almost don’t respond. but you do.

because if this is what it takes to stay in his orbit a little longer, isn’t it worth it?

you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. you tell yourself this was never supposed to be serious. you tell yourself it’s fine.

so you text him back. you tell him what you know. you play along.

you pretend it doesn’t hurt.

—

"this is pathetic," kai says.

you scowl at him over your laptop. "you’re dramatic."

"no, you’re dramatic," he argues, pointing at your phone. "you’re literally feeding him intel on another girl."

yunah sighs, flopping onto the couch beside you. "kai’s right. he’s using you."

"it’s not that serious," you mumble, pretending to focus on your screen.

"then why do you look like you wanna throw your phone into the sun every time he texts?"

you don’t have an answer for that.

yunah reaches for your phone, and you yank it out of reach. she glares. "just admit it. this sucks. he sucks. and you’re letting it happen."

"it’s not like i thought this would go anywhere," you mutter, picking at the corner of your laptop.

kai softens. "yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to let yourself get hurt."

yunah nudges your shoulder. "you deserve better than this, you know?"

you force a smile. "i know."

but deep down, something bitter curls in your chest. because maybe you don’t.

the first time you notice it, you don’t think much of it.

jay’s replies come slower, a little shorter. instead of texting you back immediately, minutes stretch into hours. sometimes, he doesn’t respond at all.

it’s fine. you’re not obsessed with him or anything. you have your own life, your own friends. it’s not like you’re waiting by your phone.

but then it happens again. and again.

soon, the texts stop altogether.

"just say it," you sigh, stirring your iced coffee with the straw.

yunah doesn’t even pretend to be subtle. "he’s ghosting you."

kai, always a little softer, presses his lips together. "maybe not ghosting. just… phasing out?"

"wow, that makes it sooo much better," you roll your eyes.

kai shrugs. "i’m just saying, he’s not the type to cut people off all at once. he’s probably just—"

"getting closer to yunjin," yunah finishes, rolling her eyes. "as if we didn’t all see that coming."

you glance down at your phone. still nothing.

you shouldn’t care this much. you really shouldn’t.

"are you gonna text him?" kai asks.

"why would i?"

"because you obviously want to," yunah says, propping her chin in her palm.

you hesitate. you could text him. ask if things are still cool. act like you’re totally unbothered, like you haven’t noticed the way he’s been pulling away.

but would it even matter?

the things is... eventually, you give in.

you : are we still cool?

the message sits there, unread, for a while. long enough for you to regret sending it.

jay park : of course. just been busy.

busy.

you stare at the words, feeling something uneasy settle in your stomach.

maybe that’s true. maybe you’re overthinking. maybe he really has just been busy.

but a part of you knows better.

—

you see him at a party a few nights later.

he’s not alone.

yunjin is next to him, laughing, her hand brushing against his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. kura and chaewon are there too, but you barely notice them. all you can see is jay. how he leans in when yunjin speaks, how he looks at her like she’s interesting, like he actually wants to be there.

like the way he never looked at you.

"busy, huh?" yunah mutters beside you, sipping her drink.

kai watches you carefully. "we can leave if you want."

"i don’t care," you say, forcing a smile. "it’s whatever."

but the drink in your hand feels heavier than it should.

and you tell yourself you won’t text him. kai and yunah would kill you if they knew you were even thinking about it.

but after days of nothing,no accidental run-ins, no random messages, not even a halfhearted like on your instagram stories, you cave.

you don’t overthink it. you just type and hit send before you can regret it.

you : hey, been a while.

it’s casual. easy. something a normal, unbothered person would send.

you wait. five minutes. ten. an hour.

then—

he reads it.

and then—

nothing.

no reply. no reaction. just silence.

—

you stare at your phone, blinking at the message screen like if you look long enough, maybe it’ll change. maybe he’ll say sorry, just saw this or been meaning to text you.

maybe he’ll say something but the hours keep stretching, and your phone stays quiet.

your throat tightens. you don’t cry. you don’t even feel angry, not at first.

just... hollow.

because this is it. the final confirmation.

you weren’t anything to him. just a convenient distraction. a means to an end.

the next time you see him, you almost don’t recognize him.

he’s sitting outside the student center, laughing at something yunjin says. his arm is draped over the back of the bench she’s sitting on, close but not quite touching. heeseung and jake are there too, but they don’t seem to notice you standing a few feet away, gripping your coffee cup a little too tight.

jay doesn’t notice either.

doesn’t glance your way, doesn’t react. it’s like you’re invisible.

like you were never there at all.

—

“he’s an asshole.”

kai is pacing your dorm room, voice sharp with irritation. yunah sits cross-legged on your bed, scrolling on her phone, but you can tell she’s only half paying attention to whatever’s on the screen. she’s been sneaking glances at you all night, eyes careful, like she’s waiting for you to break.

but you don’t.

“he’s not an asshole,” you mumble instead, leaning back against the wall. “he just… lost interest.”

kai stops mid-step. “lost interest? you’re acting like he was interested in the first place.”

yunah shoots him a look. “kai.”

“no, really.” he throws up his hands. “we all told you this would happen. you knew this would happen.”

you let out a breath, staring at the ceiling. “yeah. i did.”

kai falters, like he wasn’t expecting you to agree. “so why does it still bother you?”

yunah elbows him. “subtle.”

but he’s right. it does bother you. more than you want to admit.

because it’s not just that jay cut you off. it’s how he did it. no explanation. no confrontation. just silence, like you never mattered enough to even deserve a proper goodbye.

like you were always disposable.

—

the following week, you try to move on.

yunah drags you to the campus café, pulling you into conversations about professors and weekend plans. kai forces you into game night at his dorm, playing aggressively just to get a reaction out of you.

and for a while, it works.

you laugh. you focus on other things. you tell yourself you don’t care anymore.

then you see him again.

it’s late, and you’re leaving the library, rubbing at your tired eyes when a familiar voice reaches your ears.

jay.

he’s walking ahead of you, talking to yunjin, their steps in sync. the sight of them makes something twist in your stomach, but you ignore it. you don’t have the energy for this tonight.

but then she laughs at something he says, and he turns to her with that same easy smile, the one he used to give you.

and something inside you snaps.

you don’t even know why, but you take your phone out and open your messages. your last text is still there, still unanswered. for a second, you think about deleting it. erasing any evidence of your own stupidity.

but instead, you just type out one more message.

got your answer loud and clear.

then, before you can think twice, you hit send.

and block his number.

~

ty for reading and enjoying !

enha taglist :

perm taglist : @s0shroe

[starredblood]

CHIHIRO

PART THREE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re tired of being kept in the dark about your lost memories and finally, you’re getting some form of answers.

wc. 5.2k

warnings: bullying, cigarette use | authors note: this is not proof read so you already know what to do. also this is a mini series so it’s more fast paced than my previous fic hint hint.

(chihiro masterlist)

(summer, 2021)

It was only a year. You only lost over a year worth of your life but you couldn’t help but feel like your entire identity has been stripped away. Who are you anymore?

You’re a librarian who likes to help people—that was always the goal. But the doubts looming your head is making you question if you’re even cut out to be one anymore. You used to have a sharp mind and were able to think on your feet, but things changed. It’s only a matter of time before your boss grows tired of your incompetence around here before laying you off. Dasom is already putting in most of the work for you and boasts about it.

You were currently sitting in your desk, your elbow propped on the table with your chin resting on your palm just jotting down lists. Cheol sat across from you, reading silently and often would gasp at whatever caught his attention in his book. Ever since summer started, he’s been coming here more often as an escape surely. He told you about his life in the orphanage, how he feels ostracized from his peers because of his North Korean status. But no one judges him here. He reminds you of a little you in that sense—the need to find an escape.

At some point, his little eyes began to strain from all the reading, so he exhales and puts down his book. Then he noticed how you kept writing down the same words: Azalea, fox glove, oleander, wisteria, lily of the valley, belladonna, and hemlock. Over and over again.

“Noona, why are you writing these words so much?” he asks curiously, pointing at all the words.

“It helps me with my memory.” you answer simply while continuing to write.

“Oh…” he trails off. He open and closes his mouth like he was being extra cautious trying to find the right thing to say. “W…What happened?”

You pause writing midway and look at him. Not even talking about it to Cheol makes it any easier for you. “I got into an accident and it made me lose some of my memories.“ you explain. You can’t even force a smile for him.

He purses his lips, places his hands on top of the table and starts fiddling with the edges of his book. “Will they come back?” he says in a more timid tone.

“Mmm,” you hum. It was hard to prevent your stomach from churning. “the doctor said it’s unlikely. So, probably not—but it’s okay.”

“It’s okay?”

“Yeah, now it means I get to cherish life even more.” you say. But you know you can’t live up to those words so easily.

“You’re always so optim…optimistic.” he corrects and smiles proudly at himself.

You snort at the triumphant look on his face and reach over to ruffle his hair. “You’re so smart, Cheol. Where do you get it from?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Probably my mom.”

Your breath hitches. It’s so easy to forget that such a lively and driven boy like Cheol comes from a rough background. At least it’s comforting to know he has his sister. Speaking of—

“Speaking of family,” you start off, slightly nervous. “is your sister okay? I haven’t seen her in the library recently.”

“She’s always busy. She saw me only one time last week but…she looked tired. I mean—well, she always does, I guess. But when I saw her she looked more tired than normal.” he rambles.

You were unaware of the pink tint forming on your cheeks when you thought back about Sae-byeok. Since the incident back in June, she hasn’t been showing face in the library anymore and her return books are way overdue. Now it’s beginning of July and still, the only fragments of information you could get is from Cheol who is also being kept in the dark.

It’s hard to get that day out of your head. She was so gentle and soft spoken, it was only natural for you to suspect that you knew her before you lost your memories. Someone as isolated and guarded as her would never do that for anyone she just met. But when you confronted her, she just left. She iced you out and you don’t know what do to. Go look for her? But where? She’s an enigma—she could be anywhere.

And you thought about asking Cheol. Maybe he knew you too and is pretending just like she is but you don’t want to drag him into your mess. So, for now, you’ll have to play out the life the Kang siblings had in mind for you.

“Well, make her proud by finishing this book.” you tell him with a little more enthusiasm.

He straightens his posture and opens up his book again, looking determined. “I will.”

You saw her everywhere and for a reason. But the reason remains unclear.

The best part of working the morning shift is getting to leave before the sun sets. When Cheol is long gone and you completed your task for the day, you stuff your current read into your bag and get ready to walk home.

When you shut your locker and whirled around, two hands pressed against your chest slamming the back of your body against the hard metal lockers. You wince at the harsh impact and open your eyes to be greeted by Dasom’s frightening eyes that kept darkening by the second.

“You told her.” she growls lowly, her eyes narrowing when you tried pushing her off. But her grip only got tighter. “What did I tell you about telling your friend, huh?”

“I didn’t tell her anything.” you huff, still grasping onto her wrist to try and push her off. “Aren’t you a little too old to be doing all this?”

“She fucking threatened me again.” she says, ignoring what you said. “Tell her that whatever proof she has on us to turn it back in or—or you might as well pack your things right now.”

“Proof?” you query and for a moment, her eyes widen. There are rumors circling around about Dasom’s family committing charity fraud and phishing. It would explain why the library isn’t getting as much resources as they’re supposed to. But how would Sae-byeok even find out about this? “Let me go, Dasom and I’ll think about forgetting what you just exposed to me.” you grit through your teeth.

Her nostrils flare up and exhales through them. She slowly starts unraveling her fingers from gripping onto your top. You watch her carefully when she walks backwards.

“And you owe me a pair of sunglasses.” you snip and march out of the breakroom.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

The sound of water rushing out of a spout could be heard as you unlocked the door to your apartment. That could only mean one thing, your mom somehow found a way to get into your apartment.

“Mom, are you serious?” you whine, seeing her wipe down the kitchen counter with a wet cloth. The second you step inside, your cat appeared from under the couch and nestled around your foot. “I thought I changed the pin code.” you murmur so she wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t get why you adopted a cat, honey…” she places her hands on her hips and sighs at the cat caressing you.

Is there ever a time she’s ever approved of your living conditions? You remember how often she invited herself into your apartment and ‘fixed’ your place. But you just use that as an excuse for her not to be alone in the house.

“Look at you right now—how can you take care of a cat when you look so tired. Did you take your medications?”

“Yes.” you whine and start inspecting every nook and cranny of your kitchen and see how much she’s flipped around. “Did you organize my cupboards?”

“And cleaned that poor kitten’s litter box.” she adds.

“I was going to do that today.” you grumble and roll your eyes.

You’re too tired to verbally complain further so you just make your way over to your bedroom. Your cat, which you named Sen, follows you inside—clearly not fond of your mom. She hops on the bed and observes you curiously.

You put toss bag aside and start examining your room. Your mom came in and made your bed, folded your laundry and arranged your bookshelf however you feel like something is missing. Particularly with the bookshelf, it feels like something is missing.

A basket. There was a basket on top of the shelf and it’s not there anymore. You furrow your eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember if you had anything valuable but nothing comes up. Maybe you’re being paranoid.

Sen, bored of sitting on your mattress, leaps to your study desk and starts dusting the table with her tail unknowingly. But there was a particular spot on the table that you could’ve sworn had a picture frame before your accident. And when Sen walks past it, the spot was empty.

Your breathing stops and you slip out the room to find your mom. This was no coincidence. But you couldn’t outright confront her, you know her too well. So, you take a deep breath so you wouldn’t talk irrationally.

“Mom…” you say carefully and lean back on the kitchen counter.

“Yes?” she says, too focused on wiping off bread crumbs to see the visible distress in your eyes.

“Did I get close to anyone last year? Did I make a friend maybe?”

“Not that I recall.” she says. You know it’s a lie, you just know it. “Why?”

“I just have this gut feeling—“

“You and your gut feelings.” she signs in disappointment. Still, she isn’t daring to look up at you like she was concealing something. “Trust your brain—knowledge will get you far.”

“I know it’s just—“

“Knowledge.” she says sternly. “How’s your arm doing?”

“Better. Fully functional.” you grumble.

Her habit of steering the topic is a clear indication to something. You just want to know why she did it and what you lost.

She puts away the cloth and reaches over to pinch your cheeks. “I’m so happy you’re doing good for yourself.”

You bite your lower lip, contemplating if you should really go there with her. It’ll not be an easy conversation—it might go messy but you can’t live in the dark anymore. It’s driving you insane.

“Mom.” you say leisurely and trail behind her like Sen was to you. When she sits down on the couch you stand in front of her to block the television screen. “I know you hid something from me while I was staying at home.”

Her forehead puckers with visible wrinkles. “I’m sorry sweetie I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What are you hiding from me?”

“Nothing—“

This was becoming more frustrating. She’s just too difficult—and you’re starting to become desperate. Not knowing anything is killing you. First, with Sae-byeok now your own mother. “I deserve the right to know it’s my life and you can’t just meddle with it!” you cry.

“Don’t talk to your mother that way.” she warns, her shoulders tensing up.

“I’m so confused about everything and you’re just making it worse by trying to scrape the evidence of my life I—I feel so lost!”

She gets up from the couch to cup your cheeks to prevent you from pacing back and forth as you began to ramble off. “You’re not lost sweetie I’m right here.” she assures you softly.

“I am! I’m so fucking lost—!”

“Language.”

You scoff and drop her hands. “I don’t even know the way to my own home anymore! And you’re making it worse by coming in and rearranging everything!”

Her worried expression turns into one filled with pain. You know she cares, but it’s the way she goes about it that makes you so upset. “I’m—I’m sorry.“ she mutters.

You swallow back the urge to cry. Now was not the time, you need to relax. “…I’m just so frustrated all the time. I feel like I’ve am getting kept in the dark I just…”

“Do you want to know? Do you really want to?” she snips and sits down to run her fingers through her hair. Your intense silence and crossed arms was her response. “I thought that—I assumed that you would be better off if you didn’t know about the memories you lost. So, I got rid of anything that might’ve been from last year—“

“Mom!” you gape in disbelief.

“I thought that if you knew it would only make you more frustrated! I know I failed to protect you but this is just—this isn’t in any parenting books! I did it to give you an easier time adjusting to your new life!”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your mom, your belongings gone, and the fucking headache that was starting. In perfect timing, you could feel Sen’s body weight on top of your feet. You bend down to scoop her up and once you did she couldn’t stop staring at your mother, who has guilt written all over her face.

You grab one of the cat’s paw and point them at your mom. “Sen says you have to go.” you murmur, frowning.

“Sen? Who’s, Sen?” she scoffs.

“Bye, mom.” you say and wave goodbye using Sen’s paw.

“Sweetie, don’t be mad at me you know I did it with good intentions.” she explains in a rush while you’re luring her to the door.

“Bye, mom.” you say with more clarity and shut the door once she stood on the other side. Sen mewls like she was sighing relief.

You love your mom but she’s like candy—they’re sweet but you can only have so much until you get a horrible tummy ache. Besides, she’s going to come back to your apartment and starting changing things around, pretending like nothing happened. It’s always been like this with her.

For the rest of the afternoon, you cocoon yourself in your bedroom with the curtains drawn shut and the lights turned off. It was a dungeon. The funny thing was, you loved the sunlight and you loved the way it entered your room and gave it more life. It’s funny how much things change.

While Sen was napping beside your legs, you binge watch a television show on your laptop and for some reason you start wondering if you ever watched this show before losing your memory of it. You haven’t stopped thinking about the ‘what ifs’ ever since a certain cold girl came into your life…again?

At some point during the night, you hear rain splatters hit your windows. When the sound of thunder erupted, your cat startled itself. She hops off your bed and crawls underneath it to shield itself from the threat of the thunderstorm. You’re surprised it’s raining so hard on one of the most dry and hot climates of the year.

Whenever there is a commercial break on the show your eyes couldn’t help but drift up to your bookshelf and stare at the missing basket. You swear there was one—a woven basket. If only your mind could tell you what was in them.

At some point during the show, your eyelids were starting to get heavy and your breathing was slowing down. You lazily shut your laptop and toss it to the side, calling it a night.

After adjusting your pillows, Sen appears from underneath the bed and leaps back on top.

“Ow!” you wince when she jumps on your chest, knocking the air out your lungs. Sen began hissing at the door and shielding herself beside you, like a trespasser was on the other side. You study at her odd behavior and wonder if she was seeing ghosts but when she stops hissing you could hear it. Several gentle knocks on the door—so faint that you and Sen might be imaging it. “Stay here.” you warn her and she blinks in response.

You groan as you go off the bed and stretch, not feeling a sense of urgency because you don’t think someone could be outside. It definitely wasn’t your mom, she hates going out in the rain—and she’s the only person you can think of.

When you open the door, your heart lurches. Sae-byeok is standing there, drenched from head to toe. Her wet strands of hair stuck to her forehead and sides of her face—her equally as wet clothes were clinging to the curves of her body. And the whites of her eyes were red with her lower lip trembling profusely—from the harsh weather outside and something more internal and sacred.

“You were the best friend I lost.” she confesses to you quietly. She sounds so terrified and vulnerable, it scares you. “And I miss you…so much.”

It was like a punch to the gut. Sae-byeok lost you—and after all this time, in her own way, she was still looking out for you. And you had the audacity to think she had malevolent intentions at some point.

But you don’t know what to do or say. So, she continues breathing heavily as you stare at her like she was a puzzle you were trying to solve. When you saw her shivering you snap out of it—out of the brain fog.

You open the door further, signaling for her to enter inside. It took her a moment to do so because she couldn’t stop staring at you in shock. You could only nod. She hesitates at first but she does shuffle inside like a wounded animal and stands awkwardly to the side.

She mumbles an apology when her clothes began dripping rain water on the floor causing a small pool to form. You scurry to your room and rummage through your drawer, once you find your comfiest sweater and sweatpants you toss them over your shoulders then head back to her.

There was no hesitation when she took the clothes you offered, maybe the cold and the discomfort of her wet clothes were too unbearable. You watch the way she heads to your bathroom, not needing any sort of direction and it makes your stomach feel uneasy again.

This is hard. No one prepares you for a situation like this. Losing someone you technically never lost. The silence was deafening and the only thing you could do was silently stare at the kettle pot brewing for a hot cup of tea.

By the time Sae-byeok comes back changed into your clothes, you have her tea and a banana muffin for her. It was easy to guide her around wherever you wanted, she was like putty in your hands.

She sits down on your couch with the tea and muffin. Slowly but surely, she starts eating.

Like she could sense the tension, Sen reveals herself and casually strolls past Sae-byeok to leap into your lap. Sae-byeok’s once frightened eyes twinkle in curiosity ever so slightly. “What’s its name?” she whispers lowly.

“She’s, Sen.” you reply, rubbing underneath her chin and she mewls in satisfaction.

“Sen…” she trails off and exhales an airy short lived laugh.

Timidly, you observe her. Her cheeks were as pink as ever from enduring the cold heavy rain and her long lanky fingers still were shaky. When she notices your staring, she looks up and you see her eyes still sparkling with tears.

Blush crept up your neck and you have to clear your throat to speak. “The rain is only getting worse…Do you maybe want to stay the night?” you suggest cautiously.

She blows out an air of disbelief. “You don’t have to be nice to me just because I said all that stuff.” she croaks out, still a slight tremble in her voice.

“I’m being genuine.” you say with more fervor.

“Technically I’m a stranger.” she says casually and takes another sip of tea.

“No.”

“No?” she repeats in shock.

All the words start forming and a surge of confidence emerges. “You’re my best friend.”

“But…”

Another thunder roars through the walls of your apartment, scaring off Sen as she sprints to your room to seclude herself. Now, it was really only you and Sae-byeok, alone. “As long as you have your memories of us, our friendship is still alive.” you reply weakly after a long pause.

She looks at you, face blank and quickly goes back to sipping her drink. Clearly, she has a lot to say but can’t find it in herself to do so.

“Or not…” you murmur when she doesn’t reply.

“I really did miss you though.” she shyly reassures you a little more louder. “I guess I came here to check up on you.”

“Almost a month later?” you query, ignoring the rapid pace in which your heart is beating.

Sae-byeok swirls around the mug and stares at the whirling content. “What I do to survive isn’t pretty. I get wrapped up in a lot of—things. You shouldn’t be a part of that.”

“Like threatening, Dasom?” you ask, a small smile on your lips. Her eyes grow wide for a split second while continuing to stare at the cup before gulping back her nervousness. “Don’t worry. I’m not mad.”

Her eyes flutter up to gaze out the window which was completely glossed over with thick droplets. She sniffs and places the now empty mug on the floor. “Maybe I could…stay?” she suggests.

“Good.” you smile.

“I’ll sleep here.” she pats on the couch cushion and you let out a wince soon after. “What?”

You scratch the back of your head nervously. “I don’t think that’s the best idea…”

“Why not?”

“Uh.” you start off with an anxious chuckle. “Well, to be fair Sen wasn’t a hundred percent potty trained until recently—“

“Gross.” she crinkles her nose and places her hands on top of her lap instead. “I should go then—“

“You will sleep in my bed—my mind is made up.” you say calmly and reach over to grab the empty cup and take the muffin wrapper from her hands. Her mouth parts open slightly.

After taking ten whole minutes to convince Sae-byeok to rest in your bed, she finally was too worn out to object further. When she shuffles her tired legs to your room, you bring your two blankets and pillow to the couch.

“You’re disgusting by the way.” you quietly scold Sen, who is lying by the windowsill now that the rain has calmed down.

You place the larger blanket on top of the sofa as a comforter and start getting comfortable. As comfortable as a couch can be…

You tried to position your laying body in several different ways but none of them were comfortable enough, this couch just wasn’t made to get a full nights rest on. Or maybe your mind is too restless.

She’s your best friend and she misses you…a lot according to her. Your stomach flutters at the idea of chipping away at Sae-byeok’s icy nature. You wonder how close and comfortable you guys were—did you guys often sleep on the same bed or was that too intimate? You don’t think it’s that intimate, you used to share the same bed with your college friends all the time. But maybe with Sae-byeok it’s different. Even the tiniest gestures has a different layer of intimacy with her.

“Stop it.” you groan when Sen starts kneading her paws on the end of your blanket, tickling your feet in the process. “You restless cat.” you huff.

It’s unclear how long you’ve been awake just staring around the dark living room with nothing but a sleepless cat and your thoughts. You wonder if she dozed off by now.

You rub your tired eyes and decide to head to the bathroom to wash your face, hoping it’ll clear your mind. The cool water splashing your face definitely relaxed the blush that never seemed to go away the moment she came to your apartment. After drying your face you step out the bathroom and freeze up when you hear your bedroom door creak open.

“Can’t sleep either?” you sigh.

Sae-byeok emerges from your room, her hair more tousled and puffy after letting it dry. Her eye bags were also more prominent underneath the faint lighting illuminating the hallway. She gives you a weak and tired nod before leaning against the door, her freckled cheeks protruding.

“Should we share the bed instead?” she suggests casually with a yawn.

You quietly sigh in relief and nod—your back would’ve been killed by morning if you slept in that stiff couch any longer. “Let me just get my things then.”

When you mutually agreed to share the same bed you didn’t think it’d be so awkward. Not even Sen, who found solace sleeping by the corner, eased any tension in the air. You both lay on opposite sides and face up at the ceiling with nothing but soft breathing and rainfall being heard. And you could hear Sae-byeok still being awake by her yawning. That yawn rang so familiar in your ears.

“Sae-byeok.” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“How close were we?”

“Close.” she replies dryly and starts yawning some more.

“Would we like,” you began and contemplate finishing the sentence before deciding to do so. “sleep on the same bed together?”

This time she replied after a brief pause. “Mhm.”

“Was it often?”

“I guess.”

“Wow.” you hum after putting her answers into thoughts. You wonder if it took you ten minutes the first time to suggest Sae-byeok to stay the night or if it was her idea from the start. And was the tension this thick the first time as well?

“What?” she asks with a bit of concern.

“We must’ve been really close then.”

You hear the sound of a pillow rustling, she must be facing you now. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess this bed is sort of cramped so…”

When you look to your side, you see her shadowy figure start to sit up. “If you’re uncomfortable I’ll—“

“I didn’t say that.” you quickly say and wait for her to start lowering back on the mattress with a sigh of comfort. She doesn’t see it but a teasing smile is starting to creep up in your lips. “Did we cuddle?” you ask in a playful manner.

“God, you have so many questions late at night.” she groans and you hear her shifting around the bed. Probably turned around so her back would face you.

You do your best to hold back the snort trying to escape. If anything, you hope you teased Sae-byeok back then. “Okay, I’ll stop then. Have a good night.” you say and allow yourself to get comfortable now. It was getting too late anyway—you’re amazed that the sun didn’t start rising yet.

In order to really get comfy you also had to face your back away from Sae-byeok’s lulling figure. Now that it was complete silence you heard Sen’s purring in between you and Sae-byeok’s feet.

While trying to get your mind to finally rest, you couldn’t help but think that nothing in this world mattered this very moment but whatever is happening in this room. You secretly hope this feeling never ends and when it does, you might crave it every single day. It’s the first time since the accident you felt some type of closure in your life.

You take a deep breath in and commit yourself to rest. Maybe everything will be still like this tomorrow when you wake up.

“We did.”

You hold your breath, wondering if you heard something. She starts rustling in bed some more and you swallow thickly. So, you probably did hear right. When you feel the movement stop, you open your eyes and reluctantly move your head to peer over your shoulders. Of course, you only saw a faint silhouette of the cold faced girl. Maybe you’re too tired and made it up.

You plop your face back down on the pillow and shut your eyes tightly. But you heard more stirring and the bed began to slightly shake in the process.

“Did you say something just now?” you croak out and she stops moving when she hears your voice.

She doesn’t respond right away. “I…I said we did.”

“Ah.” you mumble groggily. “Was it nice?”

“You still don’t know how to ask good questions I see.”

It’s almost as if you can hear her smile as she talked. In this moment you feel like you have known her for a long time. Never was it this easy for you to find this much ease with a person.

And you know what she wants and it would be amusing to tease her to make her directly ask you but frankly, you’re too tired.

You shuffle closer to her and easily found your way to the crook of her neck where you rest your head in while she remains stiff. After that, everything else was just a hazy recollection.

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

(summer, 2020)

Sae-byeok lets the cigarette rest between her teeth as she rummages through her pockets to find her lighter. After running errands for Deok-su, the only solace she has at the end of the night is to stroll around town and smoke. It was an unhealthy habit she picked up as a means of escaping from all the stress she endures. With Cheol, complaining about the children’s home and her mother still nowhere to be found up in the North, she has nothing but the comfort of cigarettes to keep her going.

As she goes on her leisurely stroll, she couldn’t help but think of a particular book quote over and over. ‘But I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I guess I was crying because we had nowhere else to go, no choice but to go on living in this world. Crying because we had no other world to choose, and crying at everything before us, everything around us.’ She couldn’t get that off her mind. It was hard to imagine her feelings reflect in such a raw way through a book—like it ripped the thoughts off of her mind. Maybe she enjoyed that particular Heaven book. She wonders how many other books like it there are in the world—probably millions. We’re all tormented sad individuals after all.

When she turns a corner, with no intention of following a clear path, she sees a strange sight. A girl was sitting by the sidewalk—in front of a giant puddle and had her face buried in between her knees. She was probably crying. Maybe over a heartbreak or a death of a pet—could be anything. Or nothing.

There’s actually a lot of crying individuals, Sae-byeok sees them almost everyday. But this particular person she had no idea why she couldn’t take her eyes off them. It wasn’t until she saw something that looked like a book propped up against them when she had an inkling. Why would you have all people by crying? You graduated early from college and found a secure job right after—you probably live on your own. Sounds like the perfect life.

Sae-byeok inhales a puff of smoke and lets it dance around the air before trying to contemplate whether to find out. She walks over to you, taking her merry time.

“You should get off before a car comes and splashes you with dirt water.” she tells you coolly before placing the cigarette in between her teeth.

You get startled by her low voice and she meets your wet face. But it’s strange, you don’t feel shame like many others do for showing yourself crying.

“G—Good.” you hiccup. “Then maybe my dad’s photo will reappear from the puddle.”

She raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

You stare at her before shaking your head, deciding it’s best to keep the conversation light. Sae-byeok stares at the puddle, which looks like black ink thanks to the night sky reflecting off it and she sees something odd in the middle. A torn up sheet of—paper? Oh.

“It’s the only thing I had…” you mumble before using all your might to pick yourself off the ground. “I dropped my wallet somewhere in there too.”

“Why don’t you go grab it?”

“…I only care about him.” you whisper, sounding fragile. “I want to…pick it up but it’s ruined, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

Sae-byeok shouldn’t be harsh. She was being too harsh. Hell, she would probably behave the same way you are if the only thing containing her parents was gone. But she isn’t a person that comforts. She gulps, trying to think of anything to alleviate the ache. But why is she trying?

“I liked the book.”

You let out a sniffle and wipe any tears left with the edges of your sleeve. “I—I knew it.”

Before Sae-byeok could reply a car whizzed by, runs through the puddle and causes a huge wave to wash over both of you.

“Fuck!” she hisses and drops her cigarette to wipe down her face with her palms. “Fucker!” she shouts to the car driving off. They start getting looks by passerby’s—especially when you start laughing. “Why the hell are you laughing?”

“It’s your fault.” you say matter-of-factly with a melancholic laugh. “That’s karma for what you said earlier, Sae-byeok. Look…my apartment is right here do you want to shower and change or are you going home with puddle water?”

Sae-byeok doesn’t have much of a choice does she?

🏷️: @lyzem @monkey4lifer @tlouloser @bitchybananaflower @yenyu1s @marfe816 @gummyoonji @peelover25 @saebyeokbliss @knfthxv @we1rdth0ughts @monroesturnns @wiltingconquest @noaanotfound @tyresedidujsfart @madebysae @jumpedthenfell-13

[moonzzip]

spill the tea | kwon jiyong

a/n – so, I wrote this during class, I couldn't pay attention, I was thinking too much about jiyong. I don't know if I'll do another part, it depends on your reaction, initially, I don't plan on doing pt.2, I'm enjoying doing a bit of angst so much, i don't understand... again, I just wrote what came to my head, the english is still kind of... bad, but I hope you like it!

everything has been lightly reviewed, please let me know of any grammar error/incorrect word!

summary: jiyong is anxious, very nervous about appearing on stage again in front of so many people, but you appear.

pairing: jiyong x gn!reader

warnings: a fair amount of self-deprecation, abusive work, mentions of anxiety, reader has confidence issues, angst, fluff

lowercase letters, word count: 1,1k (again)

spinning the rings on his fingers, jiyong’s palms sweat, and he unconsciously wipes them on his light pink pants. looking around absentmindedly, his thoughts race a mile a minute, and he exhales hurriedly.

hearing two soft knocks on the door, he looks at it, a bit confused.

“jiyong-nim?” you whisper, peeking in with only half of your face visible, your body still outside.

the man nods, giving you permission to enter. you smile softly and finally step inside.

“excuse me…” your voice is gentle, barely above a whisper, not wanting to be a bother. “since i know you like tea, i decided to make some and bring it to you.”

in your hand, you hold a metallic thermal bottle, and in the other, a small, delicate package of chocolate cookies you had baked just a few hours ago.

you can’t help but wonder how he must be feeling, returning to the stage after so many years. being part of his personal staff, you and the team always communicate with him directly.

well… not you. the others.

you never had the courage—nor the opportunity, really. not for lack of trying, but because of someone specific.

of course, the great g-dragon would have a highly qualified team of professionals. but you never felt like one of them, and that person made sure to remind you of your “proper place.” the moment jiyong turned his back, all of her frustrations were dumped onto you. maybe you were hired as a verbal punching bag for the “blessed being” without realizing it. it made you wonder if you had remembered to read the fine print.

she didn’t even bother to call you by your name—always using other names, but never yours.

of course, you had thought about reporting it, but someone as insignificant as you in this industry, compared to her—who is beloved and has more connections than you could count—who’s to say she wouldn’t send someone to get rid of you while you’re in the bathroom? you never know. you know they would never fire her. you losing your job would be much easier than any close employee of jiyong’s facing consequences.

you? a new hire? who gets stepped on by senior staff? reporting her and expecting her to be fired for abuse of power and verbal harassment—if that’s even considered a crime? never. only in your dreams.

you’ve always known that keeping quiet avoids unnecessary arguments, even if you constantly bite your tongue to hold back a sharp reply. you need this job to survive. the salary is too good, and you think you can endure a certain level of mistreatment. at the end of the day, you’re working for g-dragon.

kwon jiyong.

so, you put up with a little more.

you’ve always been someone who minds their own business, who hates being a burden, who puts effort and dedication into everything you do. that’s what got you here, and you won’t let nerves over trivial things get the best of you.

sometimes, you stop and wonder if it’s worth tolerating such ridiculous treatment. but then you remind yourself—you’re on your own. you handle things as best as you can with what you have.

just you and yourself.

you don’t remember having any true friendships you’d take with you for life. maybe some colleagues, but nothing like “i need a shoulder to lean on, can i talk to you?”

you don’t dwell on it. you don’t even seek that kind of connection anymore—you gave up long ago.

you care too much about what others think of you. you like leaving a good impression—being seen as reliable, always prepared, capable of doing whatever is asked of you.

but you also let people step on you—on your pride, almost on you, literally.

when did that become “okay”?

you have no idea. it feels like it’s always been this way. you’re invisible. never invited to anything. you watch others having fun, calling each other out for drinks, and you can’t even picture yourself in a situation like that.

honestly?

you silence your thoughts for now.

you hand him the tea and cookies, and he stands up, bowing politely, ever so charming. a small smile grace his beautiful face, bringing a subtle glow of admiration to your own, soon he sits down again.

“i tried making passion fruit tea with pomegranate… passion fruit helps with stress and mood, pomegranate helps with the throat in case of hoarseness or pain, and also—”

jiyong watches you ramble (your voice still soft and low, almost a whisper), his lips forming a small pout, eyes slightly wide, eyebrows subtly raised. one hand rests on his chin, legs crossed, elbow propped up.

for the first time since arriving here, he finds himself distracted, momentarily forgetting his nerves and anxiety.

thinking back, he realizes he has never interacted with you directly.

of course, he’s seen you around—always busy, whether carrying heavy boxes, taking notes from a distance, staying late to fix a loose button or sequin on his outfit, bringing drinks, coffee, and snacks for everyone (never personally handing them to him), and countless other tasks that he’s almost certain aren’t your responsibility.

he’s never seen you with anyone. a friend, or something like that.

not that he had noticed before.

but, you know, when people are close, it’s something you can feel.

jiyong’s thoughts (just like your rambling) are abruptly interrupted by the loud, sudden swing of the dressing room door.

both of your heads snap toward the sound.

“jiyo-ssi!! you’re up next, it’s packed today, hurry up!”

ah, it’s her. the very person who used you as her personal punching bag.

without so much as a polite greeting, she shoves you aside and grabs jiyong’s arm.

still surprised, he simply looks ahead as he’s dragged away in a rush.

you just stare down at your hands, now clasped together in front of you, until—

“___?”

startled, you look up—and see g-d smiling at you.

in your eyes, he glows.

“thank you so much. i feel a lot better now.”

his voice, deep yet gentle, carries the words, and suddenly, the world seems more colorful as you both look directly at each other.

have you ever noticed how beautiful his eyes are?

and then, the door closes.

you stay there, frozen, until your legs weaken, and you crouch down, placing a hand over your racing heart, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“…but you didn’t even drink the tea…” you murmur, embarrassed.

a/n – thanks for the positive reactions on 'thinkin' bout you'! I'm glad you liked it, it just makes me want to write more. this time I heard JK's 'still with you', it brought up a lot of feelings and I ended up pouring it all out in the reader's self-deprecating parts. Sorry not sorry. sorry again for my english, feel free to correct me kindly!

[nickistuffs]

A Reminder to Breathe

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: After pushing themselves to the brink of exhaustion with work, Y/N finds an unwavering source of comfort in Harry

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None. Fluff slight angst.

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

Everything felt overwhelming, chaotic, and messed up. The weight of it all pressed down on you, and all you craved was his presence—his soft voice to soothe you. But no, here you were, at work, running yet another onsite project.

Today had been a whirlwind. You’d spent hours running around town with one of your contractors, picking up materials for a clothing store your client was planning to open. It was a job you loved, but exhaustion always crept in. From overseeing your team’s work to managing quality control, it seemed like there was never an end.

Then the client arrived to check on the progress.

“Hey, Y/N! How’s everything going?” he greeted with a smile, eager for an update.

“All is going well,” you replied, trying to keep the exhaustion out of your voice. “We’re on schedule and already planning the next steps to avoid any confusion.”

As you wrapped up your conversation with the builders, he wandered over to a wall where your plans were laid out, studying every detail of the room’s design. When he spoke, his tone was casual but firm.

“Y/N, is this what you initially planned for this section of the room?”

You walked over, confirming his observation. “Yup. I’m actually really excited about this part. That’s why I wanted to be here in person to give specific directions.”

He studied the layout for a moment before his eyes flicked back to you. “Well, I don’t think it’s popping like I imagined. Can you change it?”

Your heart sank. The audacity of this guy to change everything with the snap of his fingers. Your blood boiled as you held your ground.

“Well,” you began, keeping your voice steady, “it’s easier said than done. We’re already behind schedule from the last round of revisions. And honestly, the deadline you set won’t align with the store opening unless we stick to the original plan.”

You met his gaze, frustration creeping into your expression as you tried to make him see reason.

“I’m your client, Y/N,” he snapped, his tone growing colder. “I’m paying you, and people keep saying you’re the best. So, I expect new plans for this section in four days. Got it?”

With that, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, fuming.

Henry, your contractor, noticed your irritation and patted your back in a supportive gesture. “You do what you need to do, Y/N. I’ll start on whatever can be done now. We’ll finish this and have another meeting afterwards.”

You nodded but couldn’t shake the frustration. As much as you loved your work, dealing with clients like this always felt like a battle. Gathering your things, you left the site, knowing you had a long night ahead. At least you could take some time to breathe before diving back into the chaos.

Two days had passed, and you had barely stopped working. It was nonstop, relentless. Sketching, adjusting, planning, and coordinating—your life had become a blur of blueprints and emails. You weren’t even sure when you last ate a proper meal. The only thing you knew for certain was that your body ached, your head pounded, and sleep had become a distant luxury.

You barely had time to check your phone, and it wasn’t until you glanced at it, seeing the unread messages, that guilt settled in. You hadn’t replied to Harry.

Harry, who always checked in. Harry, who had probably noticed your silence by now.

At that very moment, Harry was at Felice’s, ordering lunch for both of you, worry evident on his face.

“Hey, Harry, how’s Y/N?” Felice asked, handing over the order.

“I actually don’t know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We haven’t been in touch for two days, so I’m worried.”

Felice frowned, glancing toward the kitchen. “That’s not like them.”

Harry sighed, picking up the bags. “Yeah. I know they’re busy, but… I don’t know. I just hope they’re okay.”

With that, he left, heading straight to your place, determined to check-in. Because if you weren’t going to take care of yourself, then he would.

Harry knocked on the door of your workshop, the sound cutting through the quiet hum of your overworked computer. You blinked, your bloodshot eyes straining from hours of staring at the screen. Your glasses had slid down your nose, and your hair was shoved into a messy bun, strands falling loosely around your face. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on your shoulders, but the knock startled you enough to jolt upright.

When you opened the door, you were met with Harry’s concerned gaze. His eyes swept over you, taking in your disheveled state, and his brows furrowed.

“Y/N…” he said softly, stepping inside before you could protest.

“You—what are you doing here?” you stammered, genuinely surprised by his presence.

Harry sighed, lifting the bag of food. “You haven’t answered me in two days. Felice is worried. I’m worried. And looking at you now, I was right to be.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. You hadn’t realized how bad you looked until you saw the concern written all over his face. He set the food down on your cluttered desk and reached out, gently squeezing your shoulder.

“Come on,” he said. “Eat first. Then we’ll talk.”

And for the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.

After finishing your food, you felt energy returning to your body, the warmth of a real meal helping to shake off some of the exhaustion. Instinctively, you pushed your chair back, ready to dive back into work.

But Harry’s hand was on your wrist before you could stand, stopping you.

“Y/N,” he said firmly, his voice laced with concern. “You’re working yourself to the bone. Did you sleep here?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his sharp gaze told you he already knew the answer. The messy pile of blankets in the corner, the half-empty coffee cups littering your desk—it was obvious.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what I thought.”

His disappointment stung more than any lecture. You wanted to argue, to tell him you were fine, that you had deadlines to meet. But the exhaustion settled deep in your bones, and for once, you didn’t have the energy to fight him.

“Come on,” he said, tugging you gently to your feet. “You need sleep, not another round of revisions.”

You hesitated, looking at your screen, but Harry squeezed your hand. “Please, Y/N.”

And somehow, that was enough to make you nod, letting him lead you away from your desk and toward the rest you desperately needed.

...

Harry drove you back home, the soft hum of the car’s engine lulling you into much-needed rest. The moment your head rested against the window, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off into a deep sleep. Harry glanced at you briefly, his expression softening. You had pushed yourself too hard, and he wasn’t going to let you do it alone anymore.

As he pulled up to your place, he gently shook your shoulder. “Y/N, we’re here.”

You stirred, eyes heavy with sleep. He smiled slightly. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” As you stepped into your apartment, the weight of exhaustion hit you like a wave. Without a word, you shuffled straight to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the stress of the past few days. The warm water felt like a small mercy, soothing the tension in your muscles as you changed into your softest pyjamas.

Meanwhile, Harry moved around your kitchen with quiet efficiency. He set a kettle on the stove, pulling out your favorite tea blend and preparing a mug. As the water heated, he glanced toward the bathroom door, listening for any signs of movement. His worry hadn’t faded—not entirely—but at least you were home, taking care of yourself, even if it was just for a moment.

When you emerged, looking slightly more refreshed but still utterly drained, Harry held out the steaming cup. "Drink this," he said gently. "Then we’ll talk about getting you some real rest."

You took a slow sip of your tea, the warmth spreading through your chest as you settled onto your bed. The familiar comfort of your mattress made you realize just how much you had missed it. Your body ached in relief, sinking into the softness, but before you could relax completely, Harry sat beside you, his expression unreadable.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N… I'm disappointed in you. You didn’t reach back to me in two days. Two days. Do you know how worried I was?"

His voice wasn’t harsh, but the weight of his concern settled heavily between you. You stared down at your tea, guilt creeping up your spine. You hadn’t meant to shut him out—it just happened, lost in the whirlwind of work. But looking at him now, at the way his brows furrowed and his jaw tensed, you knew you had to say something.

"I'm sorry, I know... I just had to finish it," you mumbled, the words spilling out in a tired rush. "My client really laid it on thick, saying that I was ‘the best’ and that I should do whatever I needed to do. I didn’t want to let them down."

You rambled, voice cracking slightly from exhaustion. You weren’t even sure if you were making sense anymore, but the need to justify yourself clawed at your chest. Harry sighed, his gaze unwavering as he studied you. He knew you loved your work, knew how much passion you poured into every project—but he didn’t think you would go this far. That you would sacrifice your own well-being for it.

He shook his head, his voice softer now. "Y/N… being the best doesn't mean running yourself into the ground." That's when the waterworks started. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as the weight of exhaustion, pressure, and the looming deadline finally broke through. A choked sob escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I know I need to work on this—on asking for help instead of trying to do everything alone."

Harry didn’t hesitate. He immediately pulled you into a firm, reassuring hug, his warmth grounding you as he gently rubbed your back. "You're not alone, Y/N. You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself. I’m here, always."

His words broke something in you, and you clung to him, letting yourself feel everything you had been holding in for too long.

You sniffled against his shirt, his steady presence grounding you as exhaustion seeped deeper into your bones. "Thank you for looking out for me, Harry," you murmured, voice thick with emotion.

He pressed a reassuring hand against your back, his touch warm and familiar. "Lie down, Y/N. You need to rest."

You nodded, too drained to argue, and let yourself sink into the comfort of your bed. Just as you were about to close your eyes, Harry hesitated before speaking, his voice softer this time. "Can I stay? Just for tonight?"

You blinked up at him, surprised but comforted by the thought. "You don’t have to—"

"I want to," he interrupted gently. "I just want to make sure you’re okay."

A small, grateful smile formed on your lips as you shifted, making space for him. "Okay. Stay."

Harry settled in beside you, the quiet of the room wrapping around you both like a cocoon.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. It painted golden streaks across the sheets, illuminating the quiet intimacy of the space. Harry stirred first, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he registered the familiar weight pressed against him—the quiet rise and fall of your breath against his chest. It took a moment for reality to settle in—he was still in your apartment, still in your bed, and still holding you close.

His arms were wrapped around you protectively, your body curled into his warmth, and he found himself reluctant to move. He had been in relationships before, had woken up next to others, but this—this was different. There was no rush to slip away, no lingering regret or fleeting connection. With you, it felt natural. Easy. Like he belonged here.

His gaze flickered to your sleeping face, the exhaustion still evident in the delicate creases around your eyes. He thought back to the past few days, to the way you had pushed yourself beyond reason. He saw you pour every ounce of yourself into your work, into the people you cared about, until there was hardly anything left for yourself. It was a pattern he knew all too well too, and one that made his heart ache in ways he never expected. And yet, despite everything, here you were—peaceful, safe, finally resting.

Harry exhaled softly, running a hand through his unruly hair, the strands falling messily over his forehead. He never imagined he’d feel this way—that he’d want to take care of someone as much as he wanted to take care of you. The thought sent warmth flooding through his chest, an unfamiliar yet welcome sensation. He had always been the one to keep his heart guarded, to tread carefully in matters of love, but with you… there was no fear, no hesitation. Just certainty.

His fingers traced lazy circles over your back, reveling in the way you instinctively nuzzled closer, seeking him even in sleep. He smiled, something soft and tender curling at the edges of his lips. He wanted to memorize everything about this moment—the way the sunlight framed your features, the way your fingers clung lightly to his shirt, the way your presence alone filled every empty space inside him.

Carefully, he shifted just enough to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin as if sealing an unspoken promise. He knew the world would call you both back soon, that the quiet sanctuary of the morning wouldn’t last forever. But for now, he let himself sink into the comfort of you, of this shared warmth, of the undeniable truth settling in his chest.

He wanted to be here for all of it—the bad, the good, in every way—just be with you.

...

Take your time lovelies. <3

[cripplecharacters]

I've been writing an important secondary character who is deaf. For the most part I'm quite confident with this. I mention sign language in nearly every scene where he's present (I don't want to overdo it so I use other dialogue tags as well, avoiding any that would be exclusively vocal) and there are other deaf characters present in the story. It's fantasy, so there's magic. at one point, this deaf character is going through a number of rites and rituals in preparation for a very important ceremony, as he is inheriting his deceased grandfather's leadership position. One of these rites requires him to use magic to enhance his senses before a hunt, mostly to increase his spiritual sensitivity.

I know most deaf people are not 100% total silence deaf, and for the sake of my magic system it's easier for him to enhance all his senses at once, so what little hearing he does have is also enhanced. the effect is temporary, and it does not change anything about his natural abilities, so he's still deaf. It's kind of like he just put on intangible aids over all his senses, making everything sharper, making his brain process the sensory information faster and in more detail. I thought I had described it well, so it would be clear that he's still deaf but more aware of the little sounds he can hear. but some people in my writing group apparently read this as if he was temporarily no longer deaf.

I don't know how much of this is a problem of my own description, and how much is just them not paying attention (one of them keeps forgetting this character is deaf at all, despite how often I mention sign language in the narrative, and the other can't even track the differences between my elves and my bird people, despite the fact that they've seen all my art and the elves are not even remotely bird-like.)

I'd like some feedback so I can fix this passage on revision and make it more clear. here's the excerpt where the deaf character complains about the enhanced hearing: (sign language had already been mentioned a few times in paragraphs before this scene, but maybe I should add more descriptions of hand gestures? I don't have a specific sign language to reference, since it's a fantasy)

“Do you know the worst thing about enhanced senses? It affects my ears too.” He bared his teeth slightly and huffed. “I usually only hear a few deep sounds, faintly. I feel the vibration of my own voice. But now it’s all a little sharper and I find it disorienting.” “Why did you enhance your senses if you hate it so much?” Morianon laughed but his brow furrowed sympathetically. “Because it also enhances my spiritual senses,” K’arik explained, “so I need it to do this hunt correctly, as part of the rituals. Can’t pick and choose which senses get a boost, you know? The magic gets unstable if you spend time nitpicking.”

Hi!

Overall this sounds pretty good. I'd say if the enhancement only enhances sounds he can hear unaided or enhances sounds over a variety of pitches without bringing him to full hearing levels, that mimics the experience of hearing assistive devices. Additionally if it doesn't eliminate the processing difficulties and overstimulation that come with hearing and listening as a deaf person, that adds to the accuracy.

I would avoid sharpening the sound quality or processing abilities in his case--for someone fully hearing, they have the necessary skills to better process auditory information. For a deaf person, more sound is just more overwhelming information.

To me it doesn't sound like you're erasing his deafness--I'm curious what your writing group thinks hearing aids or CIs do. I don't think you need any more description of sign language than what you have, and it's fine to use "said" and similar dialogue tags.

Overall this sounds like a really great Deaf character! :) [smile face]

Mod Rock

[ckret2]

I feel like historically, in the same way Bill uses he/him pronouns to exploit the patriarchy and denote power, having lots of human women indicates fame, riches, abundance, status. Like. He wants people to see him as a Chad, and Chads obtain women. What's better than being a playboy who gets all the girls? Getting the girls via RULE OF LAW. Does a dumb meathead human Chad have this many wives? I don't fucking THINK so. So Chad can not even SPEAK to him, do you see how many women he's collected in his hoard? It's objectifying sure, but he objectifies and uses all humans, big whoop. Women are what's "in" around here, and he's hip to the trends

I have trouble buying that Bill "It's Gonna Get Weird" Cipher, who taught a townful of Puritan women how to be witches and violently overthrow the patriarchy just because those oppressive Puritan men irritated him so much, would go, "I know how I'm gonna impress these humans! By ✨conforming to their traditional social norms✨!"

Especially since, immediately after marrying everyone's wives, he sets up a cult dedicated to a new god right on the border of the Bible belt (why not pretend he, the All-Seeing Eye, is actually the Christian god they've already been worshiping and co-opt the local religion?), and reads geometry erotica live on the radio in a deeply conservative rural area.

Like, before TBOB, I might could've bought "Bill's pretending to be heterosexual for the street cred." But post-TBOB it's pretty evident that his modus operandi isn't "impress humans by pretending I'm what they idealize," it's "impress humans by convincing them what I am is what they should idealize." He doesn't appropriate local cultural beliefs, he violently hands out new beliefs and tells humans to get with his program—and they do.

For goodness sake, he goes through the 50s starting multiple flop bands before it dawns on him that maybe humans might like music that's "good." Even at his most desperate—eternally trapped in a forensic psych hospital pleading through a book to some random reader to help free him—he tells the reader some self-aggrandizing story about his childhood and says he's not gonna give them a story that "makes his sharp edges easier to swallow." If he won't even deign to make himself palatable then, of all times, then why in Orchard Lake?

I don't think he'd ask for wives because he thinks the humans expect it; I think he asked for wives because he wanted it.

[sophieinwonderland]

Dissociative self-harm...

I want to talk about something that I call dissociative self-harm, our experiences, and how we got here. This may be triggering for some, but this isn't complaining and I consider it a positive story overall.

First, for background... My host was overweight as a child, coming from a family of other people who are overweight and learning unhealthy habits from them. When he was a teenager, he had read an article about how exercise could be addictive and his first thought was that if he exercised regularly enough then he would develop an addiction to it and then it would be easier to maintain.

So walking everyday became the norm, focusing on the positive feelings from the endorphin release. Given that we get antsy whenever we don't walk, I would consider this a success. Although maybe intentionally inducing an exercise addiction isn't great for everyone. And my host is probably one of those people it wasn't great for.

After some years of this, he also started biting when stressed. I don't know when this started or what originally brought it on. But I think that it was tied to the exercise addiction because pain from both the exercising and self-harm can end up causing an endorphin release that relieves emotional stress. Except while the exercise part was positive, this new habit was not.

It would end up leaving calluses, bruises, and teeth marks on the body. I don't think that any permanent damage has been done, but it is a possibility that would concerning if it continued.

The problem with this biting is that it became automatic when stressed.

Once I came into existence, I got him to stop by making him imagine that he was biting me. Because hurting the body hurts everyone in it. And that worked for a long time. At least a year or longer with minimal or no incidents.

It started again

A while back, we started biting while stressed again. (The election in particular wasygood for us.) Only now, it was happening while I was stressed too.

But when it's happened with me, it also doesn't really feel like I'm the one biting. It's almost like the body is doing it on its own... Or that something else is.

It feels very similar to how my host might feel when I suddenly possess an arm to poke his nose.

Because of this, I had hypothesized for a while that this might be something dissociative in nature. That's why it feels like we lose control whenever this happens.

While I have consider this for a while, it was the ask I got recently that described their automatic headbanging self-harm that finally gave me the push I needed to pull the trigger on an experiment I had considered for a while.

If this was some non-headmate part, I understood why it was doing what it was. It was a stress relief that it felt we needed when we got overwhelmed. That is something that I think is important to keep in mind, is that whatever it was, it was doing what it was for us.

So when it happened again, and we ended up biting our hand hard... I tried speaking to it. I said something, softly, along the lines of "please don't do this. You're hurting our body. We don't need this." And then I brought the hand up to our mouth and softly kissed it where it had been bitten, trying to show love to whatever was causing the harm.

And I think that I could kind of feel it responding. It's hard to explain the emotions I felt back other than a tenderness and maybe regret? I'm really not sure. Especially now that a couple days have passed

But what I do know is that it stopped, or at least slowed down. The urge mostly disappeared. And when it came back and we did end up biting again, it was lighter. Not enough to actually leave any marks or cause harm. And we seem to be able to catch ourselves more easily and quicker when it happens so we can stop it sooner.

I have been sending a mental "thank you" to whatever this part is for being gentler when this has happened since. And I've been feeling appreciation back from it in return.

Full disclosure: I have no idea how much of this is actually real. There's a part of me that wonders if I'm just accidentally making a tulpa that believes it's based on our harmful urges... But I also can't argue with the results. Because while trying as hard as we could to control ourselves didn't stop it, THOS has, and that's pretty awesome!

The big reason I'm putting this out here

I don't like talking about our own problems in our real life on here. I probably would never have mentioned this if I didn't think that it could be helpful to others. And if I wasn't curious if anyone has had similar experiences to this, because I want to understand it better.

If anyone has struggled with similar issues with this type of automatic self-harm and have tried talking with it as if it's separate from you, I'd like to hear what happened.

And if people are suffering from automatic and possibly dissociative self-harm, and have tried other methods to try to stop it, then maybe showing kindness to it and asking it to stop could be something else to try. I figure the worst that could happen is that it doesn't work.

Thanks for reading.

[hygienic-soap-dispenser]

HWS Nordics and Love Languages

Long post ahead 🗣️‼️ Headcanons under the cut <3

Denmark Giving: Physical Touch Receiving: Words of Affirmation

Den has always loved being around others and the touch of a loved one is like confirmation and assurance of their love and closeness. He is also someone who needs a lot of external stimulation, so I feel that touch and words of affirmation work with him to externalize his chaotic inner world into external action, almost like a grounding confirmation of love and affection.

I think he appreciates compliments because, despite his fun-loving nature, he can get self-conscious about his capabilities or how he’s perceived. He wants to be fun and lift people’s spirits, but he’s secretly afraid of seeming incompetent or annoying.

Bonus: I keep thinking about Den holding and carrying the younger Nordics in his arms when they were little, aww. I feel that because of this, he just loves holding onto his loved ones as an assurance and comfort that “I am here, I got you”, even if it’s just a hug, an arm around their shoulder, or holding onto the small of his partner’s back.

Sweden Giving: Acts of Service, Quality Time Receiving: Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation

Swe is not someone who is very verbal or charismatic or good with expressing his feelings, so I feel that he tries to externalize his thoughts into actions through kind gestures, favours, or something as simple as cleaning up for someone or doing chores for someone he cares for. He also just loves simply being around those he cares about, just chilling and doing their own things in silence, whether that’s relaxing by the lake or reading books in silence (parallel play king).

Despite this, I also feel that because Swe is such a hopeless romantic, he’s a sucker for compliments, poetry, and serenades. Basically, words to express one’s utter devotion and love for the man, how romantic!

Bonus: Swe is not good with giving gifts. Believe me, he tried. But gift-giving is just not his strong suit.

Norway Giving: Gifts, Physical Touch Receiving: Gifts, Acts of Service

Nor is someone who grew up generally poor and without consideration for his needs or wants. Because of this, I feel that he would be quite frugal and hoard wealth to compensate for what he lacked in the past. Additionally, because he was unconsidered and because of Nor’s generally cold and mysterious personality, he has a hard time expressing his feelings to others. He gives his loved ones gifts and trinkets to show that he considers them and wants to share the joy of having things because he didn’t. He spoils his nephews rotten and buys them expensive drinks, food, and toys when they’re out together.

With romantic partners, he also expresses himself a lot through physical touch since it’s easier for him to be vulnerable physically than emotionally. After all, it’s just the human body, and he’s doing something natural; it’s no big deal to him. But he’s not ready to bare open his soul for others: it’s hidden deep within, and he would need to use words to do that (scary).

I also think he would enjoy getting gifts and acts of service just because it feels nice to him to know that someone thinks about and considers him enough to take his wishes into account to get him something that specifically he would want and would make his life easier, without taking any of his autonomy away.

Finland Giving: Quality Time, Acts of Service Receiving: Quality Time, Acts of Service

Fin is not good at being vulnerable or open with other people, despite him wanting to be. Growing up, I see Fin as spending much of his childhood working and putting his own needs aside for other people, only for them to dismiss and undervalue him. He desperately wanted to be seen, valued, and prioritized, to no avail. As a result, what he wants is a person who truly SEES him and values what he does.

He is a firm believer that actions speak louder than words, so he values someone who actively chooses him, notices him for who he is, and is willing to put in the work to prove it. He will put in the work for those he cares about and he will expect them to do the same.

Bonus: I feel that despite him overlooking words via his Finnish humility and awkwardness, he still appreciates kind words from others about him. It’s almost like a reminder that he made a good impression, is valued, and exists to others. Even if he has no idea how to handle compliments and always deflects them.

Iceland Giving: Quality Time, Gifts Receiving: Quality Time, Gifts

Ice has often been alone growing up and left to his own devices, so I feel that he really values someone who takes time out of their day to spend it with him and put him first. Even something as simple as being in each other’s presence can be enough to make his day.

He really values giving and receiving gifts since it shows that he is thinking about other people enough to take the time and get them something meaningful, and getting gifts reminds him that other people did the same for him. I feel like he would be the type to find cool rocks and bring it to his friends like: “hey look, I found this cool rock for you!”

Bonus: He uses this as a friendship test. If you’re not happy about cool rocks then you’re not his friend.