#I'm going to be posting about it later on
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patricia-taxxon · 2 days ago
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I want to set the record straight regarding a certain OST for a short film that should be coming out later this year, because one of its directors is making false and hurtful claims about me and my business ethic. After he made a prominent appearance on a drama stream about me & wrote a section of my callout doc, I told him that I wasn't interested in dragging him publicly, but that has felt more impossible as time goes on and I realize the extent of his misrepresentation. I had a vision of this film being able to release quietly in spite of everything, but I don't think that can happen, and I fully expect him to try and hurt my chances at further work.
In 2023, between techdogs 4 and 5, I worked on music for a then good friend's student film. It is by far the most technically difficult job I've ever had, and I did it for free. Now, before you get mad, this is partially (mostly) my fault. I never negotiated a price beforehand, and when I found out partway through that I was working for free, I let it slide for fear of being disruptive. If I was asked to quote a price today, it would have been approximately 900 USD. The work was a hellish and grueling experience, technical in ways I'd never been prepared for, and I sorely regret not putting my foot down, because I was hollowed out by the end of it.
A big portion of his callout against me is concerned with, bafflingly, my decision not to contribute my own money to the film, which at that point would have been a negative paycheck. I didn't pay the thirty dollars that I would've had to pitch in for the film to be screened, and I considered that a fine payment for the nine hundred dollars of work they got from me. He goes on to write that I'm rich anyways, I pay hundreds of dollars on album art (business expenses that I know I'll make back when the music is released) and "furry porn," because apparently if I am occasionally willing to drop a pretty penny on a pleasure purchase then I should simply be compelled to pay them randomly for things I hold no stake in and that I signed no contract for. He also mentions that I paid them later for the DCP file at another screening, of course by that point I had gotten the vibe that they were wanting for me to drop money on their project, so I did, giving the post-hoc justification that "i guess in this case I also care about the film sounding good." He writes "well I guess that was something she deemed worthy" without realizing the implication would then be that he did not see my own work as worthy.
Let me make this clear, this is like if a voice actor worked on my video game for free as a favor with no expectations of royalties, and then I asked them to help me pay to get the game on steam. This is presented along reheated second, third, fourthhand accounts of sexual misconduct.
And before we move on, to the claim that one album artist had to wait for years before receiving payment, this is true. I did forget to pay one artist, and only found out after their assistant contacted me years later, where I then paid six times the asking price as a late fee. I was commissioning over ten album arts every year, and as of now, this is the only time I have made this mistake.
It is impossible for me to refute his claims about the personal time we spent together in Omaha, as it would just be my word against his. I will just say that he should know the omitted reasons that I have grown to feel I was disposed, discarded, and taken for granted by him, and how he has nothing to do with why I hold those memories at that film festival so highly. He also does the classic thing where he positions allowing me to pick the movie in the evening as this favor he did, making me unknowingly rack up debt for a bargain I never consented to.
During all this, he has expressed an existential fear of being harassed for going public about me, and for this reason I want to say that I still hope that this film can be released without a fuss, but his continued participation in a harassment campaign against me has done far more to tarnish his reputation than I ever could. If you really cared about your image, pressure Crim to re-record that drama stream without your embarrassing petty grievances in it & delete your testimony from the callout doc. Thanks.
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sleepycelestialprincess · 21 hours ago
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Urgg! I see this e v e r y w h e r e!
I work a lot with art and photographs, I'm an artist, I work as a picture framer, and I also have a lot of experience with the history of photography and photo scanning and retouching.
Something that I see a lot is the expectation that old photographs will look low quality because they are old and new photographs should look good. This is entirely opposite in most cases. There are all kinds of limitations that may cause the quality of a photograph from any age to look good or bad and I'll get into some of those later.
Early photography was typically a daguerreotype or tintype. These are both images that are made directly on the surface that you look at. Meaning that there was no intermediate negative or copy made. The image you see was left there by light that came from the subject, through a lens, and hit that surface. The clarity of that image is limited only by how well the photographer focused the lens. If well made, there is upwards of 4000dpi (dots per inch). If you have a 2"x3" image that is approximately equivalent to at least a 96MP (megapixels or million pixels) image. If its a 4"x5", it'd be 320MP. This far surpasses any of today's highest end digital cameras. There are obviously other factors to consider in the overall quality of an image but these photographs from the mid 1800s if in good condition, look great by today's standards.
I'm not going to go into all the photography formats and sizes from the last 175+ years but I'll mention a few. When your great grand parents had their 5 wedding photographs taken, it was probably with and 8x10 or 4x5 inch large format film. Film of that era was grainier than today but at those sizes, even with making a print, will hold great tonality and detail. I would estimate between 400MP – 200MP in resolution for 8x10 or 4x5 respectively.
When 35mm film was introduced in the 1910s, it was largely criticized as not having enough resolution to make an acceptable image. It didn't really take off until the 50s when film got more detailed, and finer grained. Great improvements were introduced over the decades bringing the resolution from about 10MP (very rough estimate) to today's finest films being equivalent to about 34MP with very smooth grain.
I really don't know what they were thinking pushing out digital cameras when they did. Photographs never looked worse! Even a cheep point and shoot camera with 24mm film (APS film was 2/3 the area of 35mm film) produced images far far better than any digital camera for many years. Many early digital cameras were between 1/3rd of a MP up to maybe 3MP. And they were way noisier than even early film was grainy. Even when digital cameras became acceptable in quality if you had the budget for a good one, they still had limitations below that of film. I feel like the crossover was no earlier than 2005. I could go into detail but this post is getting too long.
Then of course phone cameras entered common use not long after and set us back again to utter trash being petaled as anything worth using for anything. This further lowered people's expectations of what an image should look like. What once would have been scoffed at by anyone, became the average common image. Family's memories being reduced to images not worth even looking at.
Luckily things have gotten quite a bit better again, digital cameras of any larger variety look decent. But I think its a real shame that most family's have completely lost about 15 years of photos because of the onset of digital cameras. I fear that may end up longer for many people, if social media sites ever loose someone's photos, many people will have nothing.
I didn't even get into photo and art printing. But many things were very high quality in the past, then got much worse, and hopefully have gotten a bit better again. But a lot of things right now are at their lowest yet, like buttons.
Historical context is of course very useful for important things like Politics and Science and everything, but will also open your eyes to things like, uh... the way the clothing/textile/crafting industries try to use the word "natural" as an excuse to sell shoddy and bad quality goods and make you think that's normal.
God knows there are worse things going on in the world, but it really pisses me off when I see companies advertising "Real Shell/Pearl buttons!" like that's supposed to be some upscale selling point, and the buttons in question are the thinnest, roughest, most crudely-made buttons in existence... 🙄😒 "But they're made from Natural Materials! You can't expect Natural Materials to look refined and consistent like synthetic ones!" They are lying to you. THEY ARE LYING TO YOU! And I know this because I've seen "real shell buttons" from 100 or even 50 years ago. And most of them are sturdy and smoothly polished, of a consistent thickness, and sometimes even finely carved. The buttons on nice men's dress shirts? Those are the cheap, plastic IMITATIONS of what people expected actual mother-of-pearl buttons to look like! "Natural" isn't an excuse! Your product is cheap and badly and lazily made! And I'm so sick of this, because I see it EVERYWHERE. "Linen-look" has become shorthand for "coarsely woven fabric with visible slubs" and that drives me CRAZY because do you KNOW what kinds of linen I have seen??? Antique linen so light and fine and smooth you can't even SEE the weave unless you magnify it!!! A fragment of a linen damask tablecloth so smooth and glossy, it looks like SILK? 😭 (On that note, "dupioni silk" is so roughly woven that it would have been considered hardly fit to sell a century ago) "This fabric is woven of Natural Materials, so imperfections will be inevitable!" 🙃 No! 😀 You just made it cheaply and sloppily, and that was your choice! 😊
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barcenal999 · 2 days ago
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Ava's going pro
Lucy Bronze x Bronze!daughterOC
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Summary: Lucy was a teen mom and her 17 year old daughter tells her she's signing her first professional contract with Barcelona
It's set in Janurary 2024
Tags: fluff
Word count: 5k
A/N: I've posted this on AO3 before, but decided to start posting here
Ava made two cups of tea and came up to Lucy, who was sitting on the couch and reading a book. Probably something she would recommend to her later.
"Mom? Can we talk?" She didn't even know why she was so stressed about it. It's not like her going pro was something they never talked about. It's just that everyone always assumed she would finish high school first.
Lucy put down her book, patting the seat beside her, for the teenager to take. "Sure. What is it? A new coming out? You're straight? You're trans? You know you can always tell me, it's not like it would change anything in the way I love you." Lucy was never good with talking about serious subjects, so when she felt one coming, she rambled before Ava could even bring up the topic. "Please tell me you're not pregnant. Please don't make the same mistakes I did. I mean, you're not a mistake. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." She would have probably been rambling forever if she wasn't interrupted.
"Mom! Stop! Please. I'm not pregnant. You've been teaching me about safe sex and using protection since I was 13 years old."
"Well you know it's good to teach your kid about protection when they're younger than you were, when you got pregnant with them. It's the first rule of being a teen parent.” Lucy got pregnant when she wasn’t even 15 yet. She was deep in denial, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t a lesbian. Dating an 18 years old boy however, ended with her accepting that she had no interest in boys. 2 months after breaking up with him, she found out she was gonna be a single lesbian teen mom. „And it's good that you're not pregnant. There's already enough people living in this house."
"And who's fault is that?" Ava laughed at her mother and was thankful for her deflection. Being bad at talking about serious subjects was definitely genetic.
"Hey! You said you were okay with my poliamory."
"Yes mom, I'm great with it and I like both Keira and Ona. Can we stop talking about sex and relationships now, and talk about the important thing I have to ask you?"
Lucy sighed, getting herself ready for anything her daughter could throw at her. While Ava took a sip of her tea, the footballer decided it would be safest to put her cup down on the coffee table.
Ava took a deep breath to psyche herself up.
"How would you feel if I played with you on the team? Like, if I signed with Barca?" Her fingers seemed surprisingly interesting in that moment.
"Well, I already assumed that it would be Barça you would be signing with when you go pro. By why are you asking me now? You still have over a year of school left."
"So about that... you remember how some of us from the B team have been invited to train with you a week ago?" She hesitantly looked up at Lucy, and only continued when she saw her nod her head. She was surprised that the only thing she saw on her mom's face was curiosity, which gave her a boost of confidence. "Jona approached me and offered me a first team contract, since my contract for the B team is ending. He said that the details could be discussed when you agree."
Lucy's smile grew as her daughter kept talking. When she finished, she pulled her into a bone crushing hug.
"That's wonderful that they noticed you honey. I don't think you should be asking me for permission. You're almost an adult and I think it's your decision, but I would be thrilled to play beside you.” She took Ava’s face in her hands and directed her to look her in the eyes. „I’m so proud of you. It’s like yesterday you were barely walking and already kicking a ball, and now you’re 17 and signing a contract with the best club in Europe.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and let go of her face, trying to hide the tears filling her eyes.
So many years of doing her best at raising Ava, having the serious conversations when they were needed, yet she still couldn’t hold herself together. Immense pride filled her every time Ava achieved something new and she couldn’t control her emotions.
„I just want to be sure, that you’re ready for it.” The teenager stayed calm, as if it was her whos kid was about to sign a lifechanging contract, not the other way around. „Everyone will find out that you have me. The fans will know how young you had me.”
„I’ve had years to learn how to deal with the fans.” Lucy couldn’t get used to how mature her daughter has become. „How about we deal with it the good old Bronze way?"
„Tell no one and see how that goes for us? Sounds good to me. I wanna see people freak out and try to figure out our connection. My old teammates would always freak out about things like that. They’d create all of those speculations and conspiracy theories and I couldn’t say anything.”
That’s when they knew the conversation was over. Both Bronze women laughing and already turning on the TV, to watch another episode of Station 19.
When Keira and Ona came home a few hours later, there was a celebratory dinner waiting. Lucy didn’t let Ava help with any of the cooking and didn’t even let her set the table. „We’re celebrating you, so go sit down and put some music on.” She said, when the teen came asking what to do.
Ava was a big music fan and making hours long spotify queues and playlists was something she loved doing. Finding new music and then sharing it with her family was kind of a hobby for her.
„What is that smell?” Ona asked Ava, when she came up to greet her with a hug.
„I don’t know, she wouldn’t let me help, or even enter the kitchen.” Ava shrugged. „But if I was guessing from the smell, I would say she’s making my favourite lemon and chilli shrimp.” The smirk on her face told then, that she knew that was exactly that.
„Lucy! Why didn’t you let your kid help you with dinner?”
„It’s a special occasion! We’re celebrating her. I can’t let my daughter cook her own celebratory dinner.” When the two younger women heard that, Ona turned to look at Ava, while Keira turned to Lucy.
"What did you do?"
„Lucy! You weren’t supposed to encourage violent behaviour!”
They both said it at the same time and this time Lucy smiled sheepishly, like she actually had something to be ashamed of.
To be honest, the last time Lucy made a celebratory dinner for her daughter, was when Ava beat up a homophobe. When she picked her up from school, she told her teachers she would deal with her at home, but instead made a whole day celebrating her. She had to face a scolding from both her girlfriends that day.
„I didn’t do anything!” Ava lifted her hands in surrender.
„Yes you did. You are incredible.” Lucy said to the teenager and then turned to her girlfriends. „We’ll tell you as we eat.” They moved to the dining room and she grabbed an already opened bottle of white wine. “Ava? Do you want some?”
Lucy preferred for Ava to learn to drink responsibly under supervision, than for her to go out and learn it by drinking irresponsibly. She knew that her going out to drink with friends was inevitable, but she wanted for her to know how the alcohol affects her beforehand.
They finally sat down and Lucy distributed the shrimp (Ava was right) equally for everyone. As Ava started eagerly eating her dinner, Ona and Keira looked at Lucy expectantly. They were still sceptical, not sure if what they hear will actually be positive.
“So what’s the news?” Ava put down her fork, to tell them, but Lucy was faster.
“The details have not been discussed with the club yet, but Ava told me today, that she was offered a full senior team contract from Barca.” Both women who just heard the news stood up and wrapped the teenager in a tight hug.
“They said to discuss it with mom and then we’ll negotiate the contract. We’ll probably do the negotiations the day after tomorrow, since mom already called them to set it up. And it’s not like I need for them to pay me much, I’m not planning on moving out anytime soon. I already told mom I’ll contribute to the living costs accordingly, but she told me to save up the money and not worry about it.”
“It’s gonna be so fun to play and train with you!” Ona beamed. “We’re gonna cause so much mayhem.” She whispered in her ear, so that neither of the responsible adults (mostly Keira, neither of them was sure that Lucy could be called a responsible adult) could hear.
Lucy couldn’t believe this was her life. Two beautiful and wonderful girlfriends, who cared for her daughter. Ava starting a professional football career at just 17 years old. All four of them living their dreams in sunny Barcelona.
...
A week later, after Lucy’s morning field practice and Ava skipping out halfway through her school day, they were sitting in a room with a bunch of FC Barcelona officials, some of the coaching stuff. Pen in hand, number 17 shirt with the name A. Bronze on the back, Ava signed her contract. At first Lucy hid behind the cameras, not wanting to be captured by the media team. They also took some pictures with her in them, for later and for private use.
The team had an afternoon gym session that day, that Ava would be joining them on for the first time. They didn’t tell the rest of the team, besides the captains, about her contract, so it was going to be a surprise.
When everyone was finally in the gym, starting their workouts, Ava waited out the door with Jona. She was wearing her brand new training gear, with number 17. The coach entered the gym first, telling her to wait outside. He then got everyone’s attention. It took about 3 minutes, but finally everyone was quiet and looking at him.
“Most of you don’t know this yet, but we have a new player joining us, who just signed her contract.” It wasn’t surprising to have new people signing, since it was the middle of the January transfer window, and players often joined teams before it was announced.” Before I let her in, I’m seriously warning you, not to burn the whole training centre to the ground with her involved.” He pointed at the group of younger players. “I’m talking to you.” He opened the door to let Ava enter. “Everyone, welcome Baby England to the team!”
“Lucy why is your baby in our gym?!”
“Lucy you lost your kid again!”
“A little baby! Can I hold her?!”
“Jona! It’s dangerous to have little kids running around the gym.”
The teasing exploded within the gym, which caused Ava to frown. She tried to look upset, but in reality it made her happy, that she just signed her contract and her teammates immediately accepted her into their group, by teasing her and being annoying. This team was incredibly tight knit, many people bleeding blaugrana (Alexia especially). They were a family, and even though she, as Lucy’s daughter, was kind of already a part of it, now as their teammate she could finally be its actual member.
After about a minute of the room being filled with their teammates voices and laughter, Alexia decided that it was enough of teasing for Ava’s first hour on the team.
“Ok idiotas! Leave the kid be and get back to work. Vamos!" When everybody seemed to return to their own devices, Alexia turned to the teen. "We’re happy you’re joining us Ava and if you ever need anything and want to talk to someone who isn’t your mother or her girlfriends, I’m always there.”
After that, the team got back to their workouts, Jona explaining to Ava what she was supposed to be doing, and leaving them to be looked at by the performance coaching team.
When halfway throughout the session, their phones started to blow up (mostly Lucy’s), they knew that Ava joining the team has been announced to the public, and the mayhem of speculation has started.
The post description stated:
fcbfemeni We’re happy to announce, finishing her B team contract, U-20 England Lioness Ava Bronze has signed a 2 year senior team contract! Welcome to the family!
“Just so you know” Lucy warned everyone. “We’re not saying anything about Ava’s relation to me. We decided it would be funny to let the fans make up their own theories.”
“Idiotes” muttered Alexia, but her face was showing nothing but amusement.
Mapi, who was standing next to her, the two doing their rehab exercises together, burst out laughing.
“I think you mean geniuses!” She got a glare from unimpressed Ingrid.
“I can’t wait to watch all of the theories on tiktok.” Stated Ava. “Or tumblr. That one’s crazy, cause most people there are more or less anonymous. Some of you wouldn’t survive there.” She laughed to herself, thinking about the fanfics and crazy posts she’s seen on there.
“You have to show me.” Stated Mapi.
“I wanna see that.” Jana joined the conversation. “Mapi, can we create a tumblr account for you?”
“Si” She turned to Ingrid, who was already rubbing her temples, with a big grin on her face. “The kids will teach me the internet.”
“You guys, back to work, you can talk when we finish.” Alexia went back to her captain self.
...
Three days after Ava’s signing was announced, before they started their evening movie, she was reading speculation posts on social media. She was going through a post comparing her and Lucy’s characteristics, when Keira looked over her shoulder. (Lucy and her girlfriends usually respected her privacy, but now, they became her annoying older teammates, so the privacy went out the window.)
“How are you feeling with all that social media attention? Did the fact that your private life isn’t so private, catch up to you yet?”
“Nice try.” The teen switched her phone off. “My mom is considered one of the hottest female football players, and most of my friends growing up were women’s football fans. Let’s just say that your friends swooning over your mother, is both hilarious and traumatising.” Keira jumped over the back of the couch and sat next to her girlfriend’s daughter.
“Can’t blame them for appreciating how hot she is.” Ava smacked Keira’s shoulder and the redhead pretended it hurt her. “Okay, okay!” she laughed “What was that post about? I saw your face.”
Ava unlocked her phone to show Keira the post she was reading. “Wow, they’re attentive. I’ve lived with you for like half of your life and didn’t notice that you have the same facial bone structure as her.”
“Most people assume I’m her cousin. Some had the right idea, but quickly disputed it, saying that there’s no way she had me at 15 and managed to go pro a year later. Some people even found some pictures of her with little me.” She scrolled a few posts down, where the post had a picture of the 2009 University of North Carolina soccer team, with little Ava on Tobin’s shoulders. “No idea how they found it and connected the dots that it’s me."
“Some of those people should work for the FBI.” Keira laughed.
“Who should work for the FBI?” Asked Lucy, coming out from the kitchen into the living area, with two cups of tea. Ona walked behind her, focused on not spilling the tea, from her own two cups, that were filled to the brim.
“Some of the fans found some pictures from your UNC days and connected the dots, that the little kid in them is Ava. They’re trying to figure out your connection and some of them are scarily good at it.” Keira explained while the teenager showed them the post on her phone as proof.
With her other hand, Ava took the big cup of tea, that Lucy handed her. She took a sip, gave her phone over to Keira, and stood up to take out their favourite cup coasters from the drawer in the coffee table.
Each of them had their specific coaster.
Keira’s coaster, had a picture of Leah, that she took against her friend’s will. The England captain then gave her the coaster for Christmas, saying that it was so that she would think about her every time she drank tea at home.
Ona’s coaster had a Manchester United logo on it and she used it simply to annoy her girlfriends and Ava. When Ona moved to Barcelona, Lucy wrote “Is shit” below the club name. Still, at least she was sure no one in this household would ever use her coaster. She considered putting the United logo on other things she preferred to keep to herself and everyone kept stealing. Like her half a liter cup, that she drank tea from.
Lucy’s coaster was a part of a mother’s day gift she got from Ava. It had a picture of 18 year old Lucy, holding 3 year old Ava, thrown over her shoulder. A colourful Comic Sans writing said the classic “Best Mom Ever” in the middle. She had in made with her aunt Sophie’s help when she was 11, and Lucy never stopped using it since she got the gift.
Ava’s coaster had a quote from Avatar: The Last Airbender. It said “Sick of tea? That’s like being sick of breathing!” She had a matching tea cup, that had Uncle Iroh’s face on the other side. The teenager watched the show, from start to end, at least three times, so when she saw the set in a store, she couldn’t resist buying it.
Like always, it took them 15 minutes to decide on the film they would be watching. They settled on rewatching Ocean’s 8, since all of them loved it. The hot cast wasn’t discouraging either.
They situated themselves on the L shaped couch. Lucy and Ona sat next to each other, on the wider but shorter part of the lounge. Ava, laid across the longer part. Her head in Lucy’s lap, her legs on Keira’s knees.
It may have been a great movie, but Ava has seen it multiple times already, so despite Cate Blanchett in suits being on the screen, with her mom’s fingers running through her hair and Keira lazily drawing patterns of her bare legs, she was asleep halfway through it.
When she woke up, she was surprised to find herself in her own bed. It was like nothing changed since she was just 5 years old and Lucy would carry her to bed. She may have not known about the kisses that Lucy left on her forehead, as she tucked her 17 year old daughter, into her bed, but she felt a warm feeling in her chest and knew how much her mom cared about her.
...
Every new signing had to do a media video, to show herself to the fans. So a week after signing her contract, Ava had to come to the training facility an hour before practice started. The media team led her to a seat in front of some cameras, with the training field behind her back.
“So, we asked fans on social media, to leave questions for you.” One of the media people (Ava didn’t remember their name and was too embarrassed to admit it) started. “We chose some that we thought were most appropriate. That alright with you?” They checked, in case the teen wasn’t comfortable with answering questions on camera.
“I’m good.” She was given about ten cards with questions printed on them and smiled. “Vamos!” She laughed and the camera stared rolling.
“Hi! I’m Ava Bronze and this is fan questions!” She claimed in fluent Spanish, looking into the camera.
“First question is from Mila.” She read from the first card. “Hola Mila!” She looked back up at the camera and waved. Then, she looked back down and continued reading. “’What is your favourite food?’ I love that question, cause I love food. I love things like ice cream and oat cookies, but for food I’m actually allowed to eat more of than sweets, my favourite is probably one of the only meals I can actually cook by myself, which are shrimps, with lemon, chili and garlic. We usually eat it on special occasions with my mom. She cooked it for me when she found out I was offered a pro contract.”
“Next one is from Reyna. ‘Who’s your favourite football player and who did you idolise growing up?’ Well, since I’m a striker, my favourite player is Ewa Pajor. She’s incredible and I think she’s the most underrated player. I got to meet her at the previous champions league final and she was super nice, even though she was sad cause they lost. My dream is to one day learn the bicycle kick from her. As for the players I idolised growing up. Well, I’m one of the few people my age who mostly watched women’s football and not the men’s. Another striker, Ellen White was always someone I looked up to. I love Tobin Heath, she’s brilliant on the ball and her style of play is very similar to Barca’s tight spaces technique. I was never interested in defending, but I always admired Lucy Bronze.”
“Jake asks, ‘What are your hobbies outside of football?’. Well Jake, I have so many we could make a separate video about them.” She laughed, but the media team noted it for another time. “First of all, one of my biggest, and most known among friends and family is photography. I love capturing the worlds beauty, without changing anything, just showing it as it is. I love traveling, which is kind of connected with every other hobby. I love hiking, rock climbing, mountain biking and sailing. Also, I listen to music all the time and love going to concerts. All of those hobbies include travel, so does football, so that’s a good thing.” She was about to go to the next question, but looked up to add one thing. “Also, I saw the media team taking notes when I said we could make a video about my hobbies, so I’m sure you’ll be seeing more about them in the future.”
“The next question is from Anya. ‘What do you like about Barca and what’s your favourite club team?’ Well, I have two favourite club teams and one of them is Barca. My mom will kill me for saying that publicly, but my other favourite team is Arsenal. She’s not a fan of red English clubs, especially Manchester United and Arsenal. But I love both Barca and Arsenal for similar reasons. Both clubs have this culture of family in football. Like, both of the teams have players who would never leave their team. Their academies are strong and many players grow up to be culers or gunners. There’s this loyalty that other clubs often don’t have. Like, not only for players but also fans. With other clubs, people are often fans of the footballers that play for them and not as much of the club, but with those two, it’s about more than the football. At least that's my view, even though most clubs have their die hard fan community. It’s a whole culture of those clubs that people love and I think it’s admirable.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the badge on her shirt. “I’ve moved a lot in my childhood, so I never had the opportunity to grow up within one club, but there are people like Alexia and Leah Williamson, who bleed their club’s colours.”
Ava answered all of the questions given to her and as she was at the last one, she noticed a few of her teammates making funny faces at her, telling her that training was about to begin. She laughed at them and looked into the camera.
“I can see some of my teammates telling me to wrap this up. Thank you for the questions, they were all great and I can’t wait to see you all in the crowd soon!” The camera was cut and the media team thanked her and let her go with the other girls.
...
Unlike other girls coming up from the B team, Ava came into the first team in the middle of the season and wasn’t there to replace an injured player. The coaches decided to give her two weeks of getting used to playing with the first team in training before they named her on the game day players list. It's not like she had not ever played in the first team before, but it was her first time as officially the senior player.
Her first match was an away game against Sevilla. She started out on the bench, with her mom sitting next to her.
“Stop kicking the grass. You’ll leave a hole.” Lucy put a hand on her knee to stop it from bouncing nervously.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Ava said, but her mom knew it was just the stress talking and her daughter wasn’t actually feeling sick. “What if I trip over my own legs and embarass myself? It has happened before.”
“You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing great in training. Jona wouldn’t have put you on the team list if he didn’t think you were ready.” She smiled and waited for Ava to look at her. “We’ve talked about it. You’ll probably come on in the 75th or 80th minute for Pina. You’ll do what you do best and rock it out there. You’re my daughter, you’ll do great.” Ava laughed at her mother’s ego, but visibly relaxed.
Just like always, the team was doing great. Pina scored in the 18th minute and they went into halftime with a 1-0 lead over Sevilla.
Around the 70th minute, when Caro and Salma were coming in for Vicky and Esmee, Jona told Ava, Lucy, Patri and Bruna to start warming up. While they were running on the sidelines, three minutes after coming in, Caro scored a goal and they ran to celebrate with the rest of the bench. Not even two minutes later, Mario added her name to the scoreline.
The time for them to come on couldn’t come faster and at the same couldn’t come fast enough. As she lined up, Ava was starting to panic. She was lined up in front of Lucy and when the ref showed her number in green, she felt her mom kick her in the ass. “You’ll do great. Just go out there and have fun.”
With that, she hugged Claudia, who ran up to her to leave the field. As she entered the game, the whole stress disappeared. Everything went quiet. She had 10 minutes of game time left and she used it wholly.
It was the 89th minute, when Ava found herself at the good end of a beautiful pass from Patri. Without hesitation she took the ball down to her feet, weaved around the last defender and with all her might, kicked the ball into the top right corner. The goalkeeper tried to save it, flying as high as she could, but she just couldn’t get her fingers on the ball in time.
Before she could even register what happened, she was being lifted in the air by Patri and surrounded by all of her teammates. “That’s my kid!” Lucy’s voice came though the ringing in her ears. When she was put down on the ground, she felt Ona put an arm around her and tap her head. “That’s our wonder kid!” She kissed her on the cheek and ran off, back into her position.
Not much happened after her goal. It was the final minutes, so they just passed the ball between each other, waiting for the final whistle. When it final came, a big smile took over Ava’s face. It was like she was high. Scoring a goal in her first game for the first team, coming out on the field with her mom right behind her. Her mom’s girlfriends out there with them. She was surrounded by family and friends. She couldn’t believe how great it felt to be there.
...
It was an evening game, so they were staying at a hotel in Sevilla. They didn’t even get back to the hotel when Ava got an Instagram notification, that Lucy tagged her in a post. She decided not to look at it, until she was back in her room with Vicky. Her teammates had other plans. “Aww, how cute.” “Look at that little face.” “Ava, you were so cute as a kid, what happened?” Could be heard through the coach and she had to change plans and look at the post.
lucybronze How proud I am to be your mom. It feels like just yesterday I was becoming a teen mom, I look back a second later and you’re already scoring goals for Barcelona’s first team. Where did this time go? So proud of you my baby 🥳
The first picture showed a 2 year old Ava kicking a football into a tiny goal set up in Lucy’s parent’s garden. The next one came from an hour before, taken in the perfect moment, when the ball left her foot and was flying towards the goal. There were a few more pictures of Ava playing football through the years, but the first two were most the important.
Five minutes after Lucy uploaded the post, both Bronze women had to put their phones on do not disturb mode, cause they were constantly vibrating with notifications.
While laying in bed, ready to go to sleep that night, she looked back at her day. She was playing football and scoring goals for the team of her dreams at just 17 years old. She had her mom by her side. The team was wonderful. She grew up surrounded by football players and now, she was one of them. This was her dreams coming true.
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hwaslayer · 2 days ago
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the space between us three (jyh) | six.
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⇢series masterlist | series playlist
⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.
⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader
⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, eventual smut
⇢word count: 6.6k
⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language, seora spends time with her uncle mingi, first date <33, yunho opens up about his parents to oc, holding hands, good conversations & just a bunch of cute simp shit, goodnight kisses 🥰, i swear things will get a lil spicier next chap lmao
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yunho: goodmorning. 😊
This morning had been one of those mornings. You had gotten up a little later than usual, feeling tired from the exhausting week. On top of that, you turned down Yunho's offer to bring you to work so that you wouldn't have to take the bus over; afraid you'd be asking for too much since he was gonna be driving around later tonight. Had you known the bus would be running late, you might've taken him up on it. But, with it being Friday, you were just excited to get your day over with so that you could hang out with Yunho one-on-one.
It was a blessing and a curse that it was busy as soon as you walked in this morning. A blessing because the day would breeze on by. A curse because you didn't even get a chance to respond to Yunho's cute lil text before jumping right into your task list. Until, your desktop computer decided to be stubborn and stop working properly— setting you behind even more than you already were due to the commute.
you: hi, goodmorning ☺️
you: i'm sorry for the late response! i'm having quite the morning. i have so much to do, but my desktop isn't working now. i feel so incomplet and useless. 😭
yunho: it's okay! not like i thought you forgot about me or anything .. 🥲
you: lol sorry, never!
yunho: wdym it's not working?
you: it won't stay on. keeps going on power save mode even though my settings are adjusted to never go on power save mode.
yunho: interesting. where do you sit in the peds hospital again?
you: 4th floor, M103.
yunho: i'll be over in a sec.
you: yunho?? you don't even support our unit 😭
yunho: and? lol. i have time. brb!
"What?" You mutter to yourself as you set your phone down, a little worried about Yunho getting in trouble or pushing off his work to help you. You shrug it off, scribbling in your planner and working through emails on your laptop until Yunho swings by.
Which, didn't take him long post-reply. He was at your cubicle about 15 minutes later.
"Hey." Yunho says softly.
"Hi." You shyly laugh. "How did you even get in here?"
"IT has access everywhere, believe it or not." He smiles before pointing at your desktop. "Mind if I take a look?"
"Go for it." He pulls up an empty office chair nearby and drags it over to your desk, sitting comfortably as he presses the power button. He presses it a few times and clicks away at your mouse until the screen pops up. 
"Hm." He hums. "Took awhile."
"It's gonna shut down on you."
"Is that what's been happening?"
"Mhm. Just now actually. When I get it back up and running, it'll let me work for a few minutes before it shuts off and goes into power mode randomly." He's click-clacking away on the keyboard, forehead tightly knit as he eventually rests his elbow on the desk— hand hovering over his mouth, with the other on the mouse.
"How old is your computer?"
"I don't know, maybe 8-10 years old? It was passed down from the previous project manager when I stepped into her role."
"Yikes." He laughs. "I'll try a few things, but might also be a good time to consider getting a new one." He starts pulling up the terminal and plugging in some code— language you definitely don't understand.
"Yeah, I know."
"You actively push data or other work to the cloud, right? So you have a backup and can pull it up anywhere?"
"Mhm."
"Good." He gives you a small smirk. "Then, getting a replacement wouldn't be so bad. You deserve it." You laugh.
"Hope the department thinks so."
"I mean, you do need a working computer to get your things done." He sits back in the chair and crosses his arms, slightly slumped in his position. "I just plugged in a code to mimic the movement of your mouse so the computer thinks something is always happening. If you look closely at the pointer, you can see it twitching a bit." You look up close on the screen and manage to see what he's talking about.
"Woah. Okay, genius."
"Not even." He laughs. "If you don't mind me being in your space for a little longer, I wanna see if this keeps your computer awake."
"As long as it isn't taking up unnecessary time and making you behind."
"Never." He smiles at you. "So."
"So." You mimic him. "Where are you taking me later?"
"For me to know and you to find out." You snort.
"Clever. Am I dressed enough for the occasion?" Yunho eyes your outfit, running a finger across his bottom lip while he smirks at you. 
"Yeah, you look good. You always do." You playfully push him on the bicep, making him laugh. "What? I can't be honest?"
"Hey— oh? Oops. Hi Yunho." Noeul gives you a look before slowly walking away. 
"Hey Noeul." 
"I'll come back later." She mouths out as Yunho gives off a small chuckle. Suddenly, he shifts his attention back to your computer when he notices the screen go black, and he's back to sitting up again. 
"Damn." He tries fiddling with the mouse and keyboard again. "Guess that didn't work. I think this is a hardware issue now, but .." He turns to you with the same smirk he was sporting earlier when he was spitting out those compliments. "Since your computer is pretty old, I can't say it won't act up again if you get this serviced."
"So, you're saying a new computer is definitely the way to go." He nods.
"You deserve it." He stands as he reminds you. "You should think about getting a 38" monitor instead of having two. It's basically the equivalent and helps with productivity."
"What are some good ones?"
"I can send you some recs in a bit. I'm sorry you'll have to work from your laptop for now. But, whatever you order, I can help make sure it gets to you ASAP and I'll help set it up."
"Yunho." You slightly pout as he's slowly walking out of your cubicle.
"No but's. I got you." He looks down at his watch. "Anyway, gotta head back."
"See, don't tell me you have tons of stuff to catch up on now because of me?"
"I doooon't." He almost whines with a small laugh. He totally does. He's actually kinda swamped, but he made it over anyway because seeing you is nice. "See you later?" You nod and giggle. "I'll text you when I'm all wrapped up on my end."
"Okay. Thank you again."
"No worries." He playfully sends you a wink before walking off and out of the office area. Noeul finally comes creeping up to your cubicle, squealing at a low tone.
"Stop, he's so into you."
"Don't start." You bite onto your bottom lip as you continue to keep your eyes glued onto the tiny laptop screen.
"Where is he taking you? Did he say anything?"
"Nope. I am completely in the dark."
"Those are the best kinda dates. He's gonna take good care of you."
"I just wanna get out of here." You whine as your place your head down on your desk for a few minutes.
"You will! And the wait will be worth it!" You look up at her and let out a small sigh, nodding your head.
"You're right. Let me tackle all of this so I can get outta here sooner than later."
"And hang out with your man, yes!" She leans against your desk. "By the way, what'd he say about your computer?"
"Oh, this thing is done with. I need a new one. I'm just waiting for Yunho to send me some recs."
"Been telling you that."
"Well, it kept me going for some time." You pat the top of the monitor screen. "It was nice while it lasted."
"I love this for you, you know that? Upgrading your computer, your love life. This era is cute." You chuckle and shake your head.
"Go. I gotta get back to work." You push her along, making her giggle at how obviously flustered you are over the topic.
yunho: some recs for the boss lady!
You see Yunho's Slack message come in, along with links from the IT catalog. 
yunho: this CPU should do you good, along with the 38". 😮‍💨
you: haha, thank you. 😊 i'll place my order right now!
yunho: can you send me your ticket number so i can keep an eye on it?
you: maybe....
yunho: ☹️☹️☹️☹️
you: you have too much other work to worry about!
yunho: including your ticket, yes!
you: you're unbelievable. 😂
yunho: you can always opt out for tonight (ouch) ..... 😖
you: never! lol. i'm excited actually. ☺️
yunho: i am, too. 
You smile to yourself during the brief pause in between messages, unsure how to respond to Yunho without sounding like you're doing too much or saying something crazy. But, the Slack notification goes off again—
yunho: okay, i actually gtg and help jihoon with something.
yunho: seriously send me your ticket number after you're done, pls!
Pause.
yunho: can't wait to spend time with you, y/n.
And all that overthinking goes straight out the window.
you: same. 😌
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Seora had a long day at school— her day filled with a bunch of tests and pop quizzes, damn near dragging herself out of the classroom and into the gym afterward. She happily talks with her friends as they change into their practice gear, joking around and being the typical girls they are as they get out onto the floor with their water bottles. After equal wins and losses, the coach decides to continue running and improving plays to push the team forward to the playoffs and hopefully, a championship win. 
When practice wraps up, Seora grabs her things and finds her other favorite uncle talking to some of the parents outside of the gym; sweat still on her face, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. When his eyes finally land on hers, he gives Seora's hair a good ruffle before taking her bags from her.
"Ace!"
"Uncle Mangi!" She copies his tone and laughs.
"How was practice?"
"Tiring. I'm pooped. I can barely feel my legs today."
"Working hard, atta girl. On our way to the WNBA." He tosses her bags in the backseat before hopping in. "Hope you don't mind, I gotta stop at the grocery store really quickly for our dinner."
"Only if I can grab some snacks."
"Course you can. Don't spoil your appetite for dinner, though. I'm gonna make some galbijjim."
"Yum! One of my faves."
"Exactly." He laughs. "How was school today?"
"The usual. Nothing too special."
"Nothing too special? Nothing happened at all?"
"Nope. Too many tests and pop-quizzes. I did get an A on my math test, though."
"That's something." She nods as she looks out the window.
"So, my dad's got another team dinner?"
"Mhm." He hums.
"Impossible." 
"They've been working really hard on a lot of different things across the hospital lately. Helps relieve stress, I guess." One thing about Mingi is that he will never out Yunho the way Seonghwa unintentionally does. If Yunho's got a team dinner, Mingi will stick to the story down to the T. Maybe even throw in his own details and dramatics to make it more believable.
"He barely used to have team dinners."
"Well, maybe their goal was to have more!"
"Are you hiding something, Uncle Mangi? Cause Uncle Hwa accidentally spilled the beans last time and said dad was on a date."
"Why would your Uncle Hwa do that? Should I fight him?" Seora laughs and shakes her head. "He wasn't on a date."
"Uncle Mangi." He looks at her.
"Mhm?"
"Lying is bad."
"I'm not lying!" She continues to squint her eyes at him before finally giving up her case and settling back into the seat. 
"Fine. What about you then, Uncle Mangi? What's new? How was your trip to Japan?"
"Nothing much. But, it was good. Nice to be in different sceneries from time to time."
"Dad keeps saying we'll tag along one day, but we haven't yet. I wanna go soon."
"I'll let him know, don't worry."
"They must have soooo much cute stuff. Don't they?"
"Lots." Mingi pulls up to the grocery store, driving into a spot near the entrance. "You'd definitely love it there."
"Where else have you been, Uncle Mangi?" She follows alongside of her towering uncle while he grabs a cart and heads into the store.
"Everywhere and nowhere all at the same time." She laughs.
"Seriously."
"One place I'll always remember is Switzerland. It's beautiful there. Probably one of my top places I've been to."
"I'm sure. I've only seen it in books, but it looks really pretty."
"It is. Those textbook pics definitely don't do it enough justice." Mingi sorts through the meat packages while Seora quickly wanders off into an aisle to grab her favorite chips and cookies. She drops it into the cart, with Mingi barely noticing.
"I have a random question for you."
"Try me."
"Do you think it's better to lock yourself up in a grocery store like this during a zombie apocalypse or keep it moving?"
"Well." Mingi continues to slowly walk down the aisles, making sure he doesn't miss any ingredients on his mental grocery list needed for tonight's dinner. "I'd say keep it moving."
"Why? You'd have everything in here."
"That's if no one raids the store, which would be impossible at that time. Plus, it can only keep you safe for so long before zombies find their way in or another group comes around. You could quite literally die before you even have a chance to try and survive."
"You'd have to take a break at some point though, right?"
"You could, but always best to keep it moving, ace. Never leave a trail for people."
"Okay, touché."
"Cereal first or milk first?" Mingi suddenly asks as they go through the cereal section.
"Cereal."
"What? No. Did your dad teach you that?"
"What kind of planet are you living on? Isn't that how it normally is?" Mingi stops the cart and looks at her. 
"Warm or cold milk then?"
"For cereal?" Mingi nods. "Cold?!"
"You and your weird ass dad." Seora laughs loudly. "Did anybody want a child? Cause this one is not mine—" Seora pinches her uncle's bicep, causing him to yelp as they push through the remaining aisles.
"You soggy cereal lover." Seora points out.
"That's literally the best way to have it."
"Ew, you're like eating mushed up cardboard." Mingi sighs.
"You're very lucky I love you and that your dad is my bestfriend or else I would've blocked him."
"You're so dramatic." She throws more snacks into the cart just as they're about to head to the registers.
"Any more snacks or you're good?"
"I'm good! I'm excited for dinner." Mingi laughs.
"I am, too. Too bad I gotta cook it first."
"You're a great cook, Uncle Mangi. I always enjoy the food you make." She tugs on his sleeve.
"I do try my best." She helps her uncle load the groceries onto the belt, pulling the cart towards the end to help bag up their things and throw it back in. Mingi taps his card to the reader before helping Seora with the heavier bags. Once they've gathered all their things, Mingi pushes the cart over to the car, loading it up in his trunk while Seora plops into the front seat. "Ready to head home?"
"Yeah, dying to shake a shower." Mingi starts up the car and begins the journey home.
"Yeah, you need it." He teases, causing Seora to lightly punch him on the arm.
"You're mean!"
"Kidding!" He laughs. "So, what's on the agenda tonight? We eat, you do homework. Watch some shows? Talk a walk around the neighborhood?"
"Sure, whatever floats your boat. I kinda have a bit of homework so I dunno about that walk. Plus, I'm pretty sore already."
"Okay, we'll play it by ear then." On the way home, Seora continues to tell Mingi about the staycation her father took her on and the new dog café they visited. She talks to him about her friends and how one of her friends started having a crush on one of the boys in their class. Mingi playfully gasps before lecturing her about boys and how icky they can be [coming from an honest heart]. But Seora laughs it off and tells her uncle that she's not really worried about that stuff.
All Mingi can say in response is 'you better not be.'
When the two finally get home, Mingi immediately sets himself up in the kitchen to get dinner going, while Seora throws her backpack down in the living room and heads straight to the shower. She takes a good, long shower before throwing on her pajamas and brushing through her wet hair. She sits on the living room floor and gets going with her homework while waiting for her uncle to finish cooking dinner.
Meanwhile, Yunho makes his way over to the peds hospital— happily stepping into the elevator to make his way back up to your office. When he gets there, he realizes most people have already clocked out and left for the day, only leaving you and a select few heads working away in the cubicles.
"Hey. Ready?" You smile as you look up at Yunho, sending one last meeting invite for next week before closing down your apps and shutting off your laptop.
"Yeah! I thought you were gonna text me so I could meet you halfway."
"Um, no." Yunho laughs. "I would much rather come get you so we can walk to the car together." 
"That's sweet." You throw on your coat and slide the bag strap over your shoulder. "So, how was the rest of your day?"
"Good. Not too crazy, at least."
"Did the offers go out to the candidates you were planning on hiring?"
"Oh, yeah! They actually signed earlier this week and they'll be starting next week. They were able to get the background checks cleared out in time."
"Aw, that's awesome! You guys will finally get help." 
"Yeah. It'll be busy for awhile getting them onboarded and trained."
"Yunho's gonna go MIA."
"Yunho is not gonna go MIA." He laughs. 
"You sure about that?"
"Yeah, of course." He chuckles. "I'll always make time."
"You say that now."
"And I'll say it tomorrow, and the next day, and so on." He pinches your cheeks. "Don't trip." You smile feeling his warm touch against your skin. "Well, I didn't think it'd be so cold this evening. Are you okay with your coat and all? Is it enough?"
"It is."
"Okay, well just let me know. We'll be inside for the most part, but I want you to be comfortable."
"Thank you." You continue to walk alongside of Yunho until you get to his car. You give him the ins and outs of your day besides the whole computer issue that he tried to rescue you from while he grabs your bags and gently sets it in the trunk of his BMW and pops the door open for you. When you slide in and get comfortable, you notice how spotless his car is and how it smells like a hint of his cologne, along with laundry detergent and the fresh car smell. There are a few colorful hair ties lining the bottom of one of the cupholders, along with a hoodie in the backseat and a basketball. Yunho laughs and apologizes for Seora's mess— he also hasn't gotten a chance to bring in her things simply because he doesn't think much of it.
It almost feels like Seora is with him one way or another and he finds comfort in that.
On the drive over to dinner, he asks a bit about what other days look like for you and if you anticipate other big projects to come your way. You talk about a new project that was already mentioned to you by your manager, which involves remodeling one of the levels to a study/meeting area. You also tell Yunho it isn't a high priority, but you've already started the conversation with some of the facilities coordinators that can help rope in the appropriate vendors for certain tasks.
He transitions by telling you a few of the little projects he's been working on with his team, along with figuring out how to upgrade systems and all that jazz. You find that Yunho and his team are constantly working to support so many different departments, and it amazes you how well Yunho is able to delegate and keep himself afloat. You ask if he's ever had to work late because of really urgent issues and he says he's only had to do it once or twice— most can typically wait until the morning.
"Okay." He says, pulling into a tight, narrow street to start looking for parking. "We're here."
"I have no idea where we're at."
"Oh." Yunho laughs. "That's good then. More of a surprise for you. But, please keep your expectations down cause I didn't do much."
"Stop. Don't say things like that. I'll love it either way." Yunho smiles as he turns another corner and finds a spot right away. He parks flawlessly next to the curb, shutting off his car before turning back to you. 
"Ready?" You nod quietly, watching as Yunho hops out and does a light jog over to open the door for you. You give him a smile and tug on your coat while Yunho locks his door and leads the way next to you, hand on the small of your back. The walk isn't too far, the restaurant being down on the opposite end of the street, across the block. To your surprise, Yunho brings you to one of the new conveyor belt sushi restaurants. He greets the host and he immediately takes you back to a little booth near the belt. It's snug enough to fit two people. 
"I'm excited." You look at Yunho and he laughs.
"Same, I could eat. You like sushi, right? Please tell me I didn't fuck up." He looks concerned for a moment.
"No, no. I love sushi. I actually haven't had it in so long." You rearrange your set up so you can eat comfortably, the waiter taking your order for drinks. You both ask for water, but before the waiter can walk off, Yunho suddenly asks for two glasses of hot sake. 
"Thank you." He says, giving the waiter a curt nod.
"Sake?"
"Our little celebration for getting through the week."
"Wow, okay. Touché. I can get behind that." You look at him. "My birthday's coming up. You should come out with Mingi and Seonghwa. We're heading out to the club." You pause before shaking your head. "Or, actually, I'm being forced to go to the club to celebrate."
"Forced, hm?" He laughs. "That sounds fun, though. Send me the details. We'll definitely try to celebrate with you."
"Might be fun. We can be a fun group of people."
"Yeah?" Yunho likes that, you're down for things and he can tell you go with the flow. He likes someone who can just have fun with him. Someone who can just be with him; it wouldn't matter where they go or where their relationship takes them.
"Mhm. And I can tell you guys are fun." You laugh. "Seora must love having you as her dad."
"I hope so." Yunho laughs along. "By the way, feel free to start digging in." He gestures towards the moving conveyor belt and you happily start exploring your options as they come— taking a fresh plate of salmon nigiri to start off. The waiter quickly comes back with two glasses of hot sake, making Yunho smirk at you. He sets his chopsticks down and slides your glass over, raising his while you take yours. "Cheers? For getting through the week."
"Cheers!" You say cheerfully, tapping your glass against his before taking some of the hot sake down your throat. It burns, but the heat brings more warmth to your body on this cold evening. "Speaking of Seora, where is she right now now?" You drink a bit more before taking another plate off the belt.
"Spending time with her Uncle Mingi."
"That's cute." Yunho grabs a few plates and sets them aside while he decides which one he'll tackle first.
"She had practice and I had him go pick her up. I think they were heading to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner before heading home last time he texted me."
"What did you tell her?"
"Mm." He hums. "I hope you don't take it personally or anything, but I told her it was a team dinner."
"No, of course not."
"I just, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "It's just easier to go with that."
"I believe it." The both of you continue to eat away at the sushi, small, empty plates piling up on the side of the table. Small conversations continue about day-to-day life; you and your friends, what you've been doing for yourself lately. Suddenly, you dwell on the fact that you don't know much about Yunho besides his day-to-day life with Seora and work. You know about his friends, his coworkers. But, you don't know anything deeper about his personal life.
His parents.
You didn't wanna be nosy and pry, but you wondered why his parents weren't the ones watching Seora. 
Was it too much of you to ask?
Was this considered a real date if you two weren't trying to get to know each other? What were the boundaries?
"Yunho?"
"What's up?"
"Can I ask you something more personal?"
"Anything."
"I hope I'm not crossing boundaries here, but what about your parents? How come they don't watch Seora?"
"You're not crossing any boundaries." Yunho reassures you, but shakes his head before dipping into his next plate of sushi. "Uh, it's complicated. Things kinda just fell apart when Eunha passed." You slowly nod. "When my parents found out Eunha was pregnant, they didn't want us to continue with the pregnancy cause we were, what? 20 years old when we found out? Still in the midst of college. But, that's not what we wanted. They almost got to Eunha but we pushed through in the end and we had Seora. It was really hard for a long, long time, but Seora was worth every bit of it. My parents obviously didn't like the fact that we went against their wishes, so they kept their distance. It's been that way ever since, even when Eunha passed. I think it got worst, actually. Plus, I never had the best relationship with them from the get-go. They only see Seora once in a blue moon. They're the grandparents that just send the occasional bouts of money, birthday and holidays cards. Seora always wonders about them, but I can never give her an answer as to why her grandparents aren't around." 
"I'm sorry, Yunho."
"Don't be sorry." Yunho smiles a bit.
"W-what about Eunha's parents?" You wanna ask about Eunha too, but you know this isn't the time.
"Uh, they're the same. They—" He pauses. "They cut off ties when she passed because it was too hard for them."
"Oh. Yunho." You say sympathetically, feeling incredibly bad for having brought it up in the first place. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to be such a debbie downer during dinner."
"No, it's okay. I promise. I've.. gotten used to it at this point. It used to be hard for me, but I've accepted everything."
"Still doesn't mean it doesn't get hard for you."
"I've learned to manage." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.
"I hope you know you're doing an amazing job balancing everything and for being a great father to Seora."
"Thanks." 
"I'm also glad you have Seonghwa and Mingi."
"Me too." He laughs. "They're a pain in my ass, but they're my bestfriends. I don't think I would have been able to get through a lot without them. And they're good to Seora."
"That's good, I'm glad." You eat a bit more before you feel yourself getting content and full.
"Full?"
"Damn near. I think I ate too fast." You chuckle. "I'm almost done with my sake."
"Bottoms up?" You nod, tapping your glass against his before the both of you take it to the neck. Yunho finishes up a few more plates before he sits back and gulps his water down, causing you to giggle to yourself. "Fuck, I'm full. Overdid it, for sure."
"Was worth every bit of it, though. Maybe we should walk it off?"
"Yeah. Let's head to the next stop. I think you'll like it. And we'll get our steps in." He pulls his wallet out of his pocket, calling the waiter over.
"Can I split with you?"
"Absolutely not." Yunho says, handing over his card directly to him.
"You're already driving me everywhere and taking me to another location after this. The least I can do is chip in."
"Nope. The least you can do is just enjoy yourself with me tonight." He smiles sweetly just as he grabs the receipt handed to him by the waiter, signing off and tucking his own copy swiftly into his pocket before looking at you. 
"Couldn't even let me see the receipt."
"Nope." He repeats and stands. "Ready to go, pretty girl?" You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you stand and nod, leading the way out of the restaurant with Yunho in tow. He answers your questions on the way to the car, giving you hints about the next location. It still leaves you stumped in the end, deciding to let Yunho continue taking matters into his own hands with you. He opens the door like the gentleman he is, slipping into the driver's seat as he rubs his hands together and immediately turns the heat on when he starts the car. "All good? Too hot?"
"Just perfect."
"Good." You sit back comfortably as Yunho sets off for the next destination for tonight. "So, how was the sushi? Be honest."
"It was so good!" He looks at you when he comes to a red light, almost as if he's trying to read you, really read you, and you giggle. "What?"
"Just making sure."
"That I'm not lying?"
"Maybe." You laugh even more.
"I would never. If I didn't enjoy it, I would've given an honest review."
"Mmkay, I believe you." He laughs. "I want you to have a good night with me."
"I am already." You look at him with a soft expression. "And I'm sure the next part to this will be just as fun. If not, more. I trust you."
"Do you?"
"I do." Yunho smiles, wanting to hold your hand so badly while he drives. But, he doesn't. He holds back. He feels like there could be a better opportunity.
One that'll feel right and set the mood for the remainder of the night.
For this entirely.
After a good 20 minutes of driving down south, Yunho exits off the freeway and takes an immediate right down towards a large-sized building with all modern exterior designs. He parks in the lot next to it, doing his gentleman deed of helping you out of the car and leading you towards the beautiful building.
It's one of the city's biggest museums, and the event they're hosting for a couple of weeks is called Spirit House. It focuses on Asian American and Asian diasporic artists that are showcasing art pertaining to horror, spirits, haunted houses, reincarnation, different dimensions and other themes along those lines. You continue to read the pamphlet before Yunho looks at you with a small smile on his face.
"Wanna walk around?" You nod.
"How'd you know I'd be into this stuff?"
"It sounded cool, so why not?"
"You're good, Jeong Yunho." You giggle and continue into the first part of the exhibit. The atmosphere is dark and dim, the artwork on the walls screaming afterlife. Death. Souls. Horror, fear. You're so intrigued that you find yourself slowly moving from work to work; trying to take in all the details of the images in front of you. You didn't even realize Yunho had been watching you from behind, snapping photos every chance he could before moving onto the next room to get a preview of what's to come.
"Hey." Yunho says from behind you. "Wanna show you something in the next room." 
"Okay." You look down at the hand he puts out, waiting for you to take it. You gently slide your hand in his, fingers intertwining before he guides you to the next exhibit and it feels incredibly natural. It's a room full of mini fixtures— almost like miniature set-ups of old fashioned homes and other buildings. He shows you one that has the artist's own adaptation of Junji Ito characters spread across levels of an old, haunted house.
"Oh my god, I love it." You peek down to get a closer look, hand still laced with Yunho's. "I love Junji Ito. And the work in the other room reminded me of Takato Yamamoto. It's amazing."
"Made for you." You chuckle, tugging him along as you both look at the next miniature setups alongside of it. Yunho doesn't even mind one bit. He's enjoying the exhibit, but he's enjoying it even more with you here— holding his hand every step of the way. You snap a few photos of the art before Yunho directs you to stand near one of the exhibits where the lighting falls on you perfectly. He takes a few more photos— more candid ones from behind you especially— just so you have photos to look back at when you wanna reminisce on your first date with him.
The next room of the exhibit is an interactive light show; the  room is completely dark, with different lights projecting things around the room. The background music is mysterious, creepy; fitting the vibe all together. You continue to walk with Yunho while snapping photos of your silhouettes in the mirrors. Yunho gets silly and makes a bunch of poses, making you laugh loudly in the process. At one point, you've found yourself standing near the corner of the room, watching all the lights come together to project a beautiful show onto the walls. Yunho comes next to you, admiring the same view— but you, mainly. You look up at him to tell him how amazing the event is, but he's already looking down at you with fondness and endearment sprinkled in his big brown orbs.
You almost.. wanna kiss him.
But, you shake off the thought quickly by dragging him to the next exhibits— loosely holding his hand throughout the rest of the event.
Too bad he would've kissed you back, had you known.
No, he needs to be a gentleman and he needs to do right by you, Yunho thinks. He can't just kiss you on the first date or else he runs the risk of you thinking he only wants you for one thing.
Like Ara; but, that situation is a little different.
"Yunho! That was so fun." You smile at him the way you do, and it melts his heart. "Thank you for taking me to this."
"Of course. I think it ends after the weekend, so perfect timing." You quickly scroll through some of the pictures you took. "I'll send you the pictures I have later."
"Okay." You look at the buskers on the opposite end of the street, along with a food cart nearby. "Yunho, let's go check it out really quickly!"
"I'm down." He nods, noticing it's only about to hit 10pm. Seora must be waiting for him, but he knows she'll sleep until he gets there and Mingi hasn't made a peep. He feels like he's in the clear.
He holds your hand tightly as you both cross the street safely, stopping near the food cart first while lightly bouncing to the live music nearby.
"Want a snack?" You nod and cling onto his arm.
"I could use one. Museum took up my energy." He laughs. Yunho buys some custard-filled bungeoppang for you two to snack on while observing the buskers. You bounce along next to him and he starts to dance in his own way, making you laugh at how cute he's being with you. You snap a few photos of him that you'll share later, not knowing Yunho had a bunch of your photos to share as well.
You and Yunho sing along to some familiar songs before the buskers end the first half of their performance for a tiny break.
"That was cool. They did really well!"
"They were so good!" You toss in some cash into the guitar case. "And I didn't know you could sing!"
"I— no." Yunho laughs.
"I wanna hear more of your singing." You pout as you tug on his arm on the way back to the car.
"Maybe."
"Yunho." You whine and he laughs.
"I promise you it's nothing that great."
"Very much the opposite of what I think, just so you know." He stands by the passenger door, allowing you to hop in but he doesn't close the door right away. He stands and looks at you and there's something in his eyes that you can't really read.
"I hope you enjoyed it."
"I did. A lot." He licks his lips, and you can tell he's having the same internal battle you had not too long ago in the light exhibit. But, he brushes it off by tapping the door frame before shutting your door gently and hopping into his seat. 
The drive home is as expected; with you and Yunho talking about your similar music tastes this time and Yunho being a bit more open about his vocals. You look at him as he sings a tune or two, explaining that his dad is the one with the vocals in the family. You tease that next time, you two should go to a karaoke bar to end the night and he smirks.
At least you're thinking about next time's just like he is, too.
When he pulls up to your apartment, you find yourself not wanting to part from him. You know he has to go home to Seora though, and it breaks your heart knowing she's been waiting for her dad to come home. You step out of the car and tug on your coat, the night colder than it was a few hours ago.
"Welp, this is me." You both look at the apartment building, with Yunho tucking his hands into his pockets.
"Let me walk you up."
"No, it's okay. I promise it's right there." You point at your apartment before chuckling and turning to him completely. "Goodnight, Yunho. Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun."
"You're welcome, Y/N." He watches as you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushes, and he loves the initiation, but he freezes. Completely. 
"I'll see you next week, hm? Get home safely." You smile toothlessly at him before turning on your heel to walk up to your unit. Just as you're about to make it up the steps, Yunho is chasing after you with long strides, causing you to turn and raise a brow. "Did I leave something?"
"Mm, maybe." He says with a tiny smirk on his face. Suddenly, his large, warm hands come up to cup your cheeks— lips capturing yours in a sweet goodnight kiss. "Goodnight." You smile up at him as his thumb caresses the surface of your right cheek.
"Night." He steps back, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big. He lingers around until he sees you successfully slip into your unit and hears the door shut close.
What he doesn't see is the way you squeal and dig your face into your hands, incredibly giddy and happy from the turn of events.
You really liked Yunho.
And he does, too.
So much that the smile doesn't even fade when he pulls up to the house, Mingi's car leaving enough room for him to park in his usual spot. Yunho can see the faint flickering of the TV lights through the kitchen window, and he knows Seora is probably on the couch waiting for his arrival.
When he steps through the door, Mingi is placing some food into the fridge before returning his attention to the remaining dishes in the sink. He quietly greets his bestfriend before nodding towards the couch— signaling that Seora had fallen asleep while waiting.
"Has it been long?" Yunho asks lowly.
"A bit, yeah. She said practice was exhausting today." Yunho chuckles before crouching down in front of the couch and brushing her hair back.
"Ace." Her eyes slowly flicker open.
"Oh, finally. You're back." He laughs.
"Let's get to bed, hm?" She sleepily nods, sitting up before walking to her bedroom. "Say bye to uncle Mingi."
"Love you, ace!" Mingi calls out as he watches her sleepily walk across the living room.
"Love you too. Goodnight." She mutters and lazily waves before dragging herself into her room and shutting the door. It isn't long before Yunho sees her shut off the lights, causing him to turn the volume down on the TV before helping Mingi clean up.
"So, how was it?" Yunho smiles.
"Good." He avoids eye contact as he blushes, setting the dry dishes into the cabinet.
"Good?"
"Yeah."
"Meaning?" Mingi rests against the corner before smirking at him. " I have time."
"I really, really like her."
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billiesbabygirleilish · 1 day ago
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Billie and the reader have been friends since childhood and Billie has a huge Crush on the reader but the reader has a boyfriend her boyfriend is like super possessive and abusive like won’t really let the reader go anywhere without him and doesn’t like when the reader hangs out with Billie because he know that Billie likes the reader
Billie and her family/friends know that the reader is being abused but every time that try to talk to the reader she always brush it off and tells that they are over reacting and she’s fine one day the reader is hanging out with Billie while her boyfriend is out boyfriend come home and see Billie after Billie leaves the reader and her boyfriend get into a fight the reader the reader ends up going to Billie
I don’t know how to end this but Billie and the reader end up together
Fractured Love
⚠️Mentions of abuse/abusive relationship. Please don’t interact with this post if these themes make you uncomfortable⚠️
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╰.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*╯ The scent of lavender and old books always calmed you. Billie’s childhood bedroom, with its mismatched posters and overflowing bookshelves, was your safe haven. You stretched out on her bed, absently tracing the pattern on the worn quilt while Billie fiddled with her ukulele in the corner. 
“He’s out of town for the weekend,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the tightness in your chest betrayed you. “Said he had to… help his dad with something.”
Billie strummed a discordant chord. "Right. ‘Help his dad.’ Like he ever does anything remotely helpful." She didn’t look up, but you knew what she was thinking. You knew everyone knew. The strained smiles, the subtle glances, the way Maggie hovered a little too close whenever Liam, your boyfriend, was around – it was all a silent testament to what they saw happening to you.
“He just gets… jealous,” you mumbled, twisting a stray thread on the quilt. “He just cares about me.”
Billie’s head snapped up, her blue eyes flashing. “Caring doesn’t look like telling you who you can and can’t see, who you can and can't talk to. Caring doesn't look like…” she trailed off, her jaw clenched.
You rushed to fill the uncomfortable silence. "It's not that bad, Billie. You guys are just overreacting." You forced a laugh, though your voice wobbled. “I’m fine.”
Billie slammed the ukulele down on the floor, the sound reverberating through the small room. "God, why do you do this? We just want you safe! He’s isolating you, (Your name), are you blind?"
You flinched. “Don’t yell,” you whispered, your voice catching.
Billie’s anger deflated, replaced by a deep, aching worry. She sat beside you on the bed, her hand hovering over yours. She didn't touch you. Not anymore. Not since Liam had made his feelings about your friendship with Billie crystal clear, with words that still echoed in your head.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "Just… I hate seeing him control you like this. You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine for months." Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small, smooth stone, a piece of sea glass she'd found on the beach. "I… I brought this for you. Said it reminded me of your eyes."
You took the sea glass, its cool surface soothing against your palm. "Thank you, Billie."
Later that afternoon, Billie walked you to your door. As you were unlocking it, Liam’s car pulled up to the curb. He’d come home early.
“Hey,” he said, his voice clipped. He glared at Billie as he approached. “What’s she doing here?”
“Just… hanging out,” you stammered.
“She knows you’re busy. She knows you’re with me.” His eyes narrowed. “Does she even have any respect?”
Billie’s jaw tightened. "I was just leaving," she said, her voice even, but you could see the tension in her shoulders.
As Billie turned and walked away, Liam grabbed your arm, yanking you inside the apartment. The door slammed shut behind you. It wasn't the first time you had been dragged inside. It wasn't the only form of abuse you had endured from him.
The argument started small, a simmering resentment bubbling to the surface. But it quickly escalated, his words sharp and cruel, his grip on your arm painful. You tried to reason with him, to appease him, but nothing worked. He accused you of lying, of flirting, of… who knew what else. Your voice rose as you fought back, tears streaming down your face.
"Just leave me alone!" you finally screamed, pushing him away.
He recoiled, his face contorted with a rage that frightened you. "You think anyone else will want you? You think Billie gives a damn about you? She's just… using you. Playing you for a fool."
The words cut deep, even though you knew they weren't true. The anger drained out of you, leaving you hollow and trembling. You couldn't breathe.
"I'm going to be sick," you choked out, pushing past him.
He let you go, and you stumbled out of the apartment, running blindly until you reached the familiar haven of Billie’s house.
You pounded on the door, tears streaming down your face. Maggie opened it, her expression immediately softening when she saw you.
"Oh, honey," she murmured, drawing you into a hug. "Come in, come in."
She led you to the living room, where Billie, Patrick, Finneas, and Claudia sat, their faces etched with concern. You collapsed on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably.
Billie knelt beside you, her hand finally finding yours. Her touch was grounding, a lifeline in the storm. "What happened?" she asked softly, her voice laced with worry.
You told them everything. The possessive control, the constant criticism, the outbursts, the fear that had become your constant companion. You spoke through sobs, the words tumbling out in a torrent of pain and relief.
When you were finally done, the room was silent. Finneas squeezed Claudia's hand, his face dark. Patrick just nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet fury. Maggie sat beside you, stroking your hair.
Billie’s grip on your hand tightened. “You don’t have to go back there, you know.”
You looked at her, your eyes red and swollen. “But… where else would I go?”
Billie hesitated for a moment, then met your gaze with unwavering intensity. "You can stay here. With us. We'll protect you."
The offer hung in the air, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Leaving Liam meant stepping into the unknown, but staying meant… more of the same.
"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Okay, I'll stay."
The next few weeks were a blur of healing. Maggie’s gentle care, Patrick’s quiet strength, Finneas and Claudia’s unwavering support – they all helped you piece yourself back together. You started therapy, learning to recognize the signs of abuse and to rebuild your shattered self-esteem.
But it was Billie who made the biggest difference. She was there for you, always, a constant presence in your life. Late-night talks under the stars, walks along the beach, quiet moments spent reading together in her room – she created a safe space for you to be yourself, to laugh, to cry, to simply exist without fear.
One evening, as you sat on Billie’s bed, listening to her strum a new song on her ukulele, you realized something had shifted. The fear was still there, a lingering shadow, but it was no longer the defining force in your life. You were starting to see yourself again, to remember the person you were before Liam had chipped away at your spirit.
Billie finished the song, a soft melody with heartfelt lyrics about resilience and hope. She looked at you, her blue eyes filled with something that made your heart skip a beat.
"Do you… do you feel safe here?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "More than I've ever felt."
She reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Me too," she whispered, her gaze locked on yours.
And then, she leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, but it quickly deepened, a rush of long-suppressed feelings finally breaking free. It was a kiss of comfort, of safety, of longing, of hope.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and trembling, you looked at Billie, and for the first time in a long time, you saw a future. A future free from fear, a future filled with love, a future where you could be yourself, completely and unapologetically.
It wasn’t a fairytale ending. There would still be challenges, still be healing to do. But you knew, with a certainty that settled deep in your soul, that you weren't alone anymore. You had Billie, her family, her friends - a whole world of love and support to guide you. And you knew, with equal certainty, that you were finally on the path to a life that was truly your own.
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sarbithewizard · 3 hours ago
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And then, the world went mad...
Before I would've said the world would go out in a nuclear blaze or something otherwise generically apocalyptic like that. Survival scenarios were always fun to think about in those kinds of settings. Then I stepped outside to go to work and the house across the street blew up. The wildest thing? I'm pretty sure I saw Susan flying into the distance wearing a blanket like some kind of sugar glider, but got distracted by her car hood banging to the road like it had been launched from the roof. I called the police to report the explosions and subsequent fire, but the operator just started flirting with me. Creeped out, I hung up and tried again only to get raucous laughter from someone else. I went to get a hose and maybe do something when I heard gunshots. GUNSHOTS! Gunshots in my sleepy little suburb, and I'm convinced they were shooting at me! What did I do?! I ran to my car and took off, console pistol in hand because I had no idea what was going on. I drove to my friend Dave's house, but he seemed bored by the madness I frantically described seeing in my trip over. "Time-loop, bud. You're lucky I stuck around this time to see you. Damnedest thing. I think you're the only one that doesn't know. Made me kind of a celebrity for a few years there, but now you're novelty has worn off. Oh, you'll get some attention still, but the North American Free People's Society has laid down some protection rules around you, but it's not like we can enforce any infrastructure in the beginning. Good luck with Today! I'll see you again Today." He just got up and walked out. He seemed listless about the whole thing. Strange accent as well. I found his corpse a few hours later. I'm still trying to convince myself that some worldwide mass hallucination happened, because I can't otherwise make sense of everything. Dave was right though, which makes it harder to believe. I ran into plenty of would-be-lovers, plenty of whackos trying to kill me, and quickly had a bodyguard contingent from this NAFPS group who shot a lot of people between casually chatting with me and maintaining a perimeter. I guess they have a daily rotation and it's considered some kind of honor.
Then the next day came.
There were all kinds of reactions. Orgies in the street, mass suicides, plenty of weeping in both joy and terror. Before no one wanted to talk to me about it anymore, probably because of all the questions I kept asking in the early days, I learned that everyone was in there for hundreds of years. Certainly explains some of the wild skills I saw from people who otherwise looked like normal service workers or business drones. It seems some considered themselves immortal, and being confronted by Tomorrow shook most up. The NAFPS is still around in some capacity. It seems there were groups that were preparing for Tomorrow all over the place, but never really expected it to come. It was clear who truly believed soon enough, from my perspective. I work with them as thanks for protecting me the day the world went mad, and I'm starting to believe them. This is all too orchestrated to be anything fake or hallucinated. It's just so hard to believe, you know? It seems that my celebrity status in the strange world I missed out on makes me a relatively trustable party for negotiations. I've been shipped to neo nation-states across the globe like the NAFPS as a kind of emissary of the world that was. To me it was just last Thursday, but I guess to them, that's when the world really started. I still miss Dave.
-Reflections from the diary of control entity, Jay, in simulation iteration 166,440. It can be noted that human society is starting to become stable, post-resumption. This researcher believes this to be a solid sign we are past the primal anarchic tendencies of the prolonged mortal persistence in a zero-consequence environment and refutes the claim of inherently chaotic nature in the species. Albeit did take several hundred years. The concerted effort to keep the control entity alive as a living monument to their culture and former society is of particular interest to this researcher.
Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.
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grunckle · 3 days ago
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Rain World, Classical Planets, Celestial Spheres, (more!) Gnosticism, and the Deep Pink pearl
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Sorry for the absolute mess of a title, but seeming as I've already covered all of these topics in previous posts, I figured I could go a bit further into the concepts. If you haven't read the others I'd suggest looking at them to understand the base I'll be building upon here. The ones best suited for that are probably:
and
With that being said, lets get started with Planets and their etymology.
The word planet derives from the Greek word πλανήται (planḗtai), which itself is derivative of πλανάω (planáō,) which means, "to wander." It referred to the 7 classical planets, which included the Sun and Moon, along with the 5 visible to the naked eye, namely, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. They "wander" because they move in an irregular pattern against the backdrop of fixed stars, so they themselves were seen as "wandering stars", something to keep in mind later.
It's also good to note that this is why the planets are named after Roman gods, a practice subsumed from the Greeks which was even further borrowed from the Babylonians, of course each putting their own pantheon in the other one's place, (with exceptions to Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto, who were discovered and thus named much later by astronomers in Europe who used both Latin and Greek gods for naming.)
Now with the etymology done, we can look at the roots it has in Gnosticism. The Ogdoad is a concept which simply means a group of 8, and is reflected in Gnostic cosmology and creation myth. Gnostic cosmology as understood today (generally! as of course belief and interpretation varied within the religion) is separated into 7 planetary spheres ruled over by the 7 archons, along with an 8th, "supercelestial" sphere of fixed stars. In the earliest forms of Gnosticism this was the final layer, but again it's important to stress that belief on the higher layers especially varied greatly, with some systems having as many as 365 heavens. In this context the word, hebdomad, meaning a group of 7, refers to the 7 planetary spheres and Ogdoad refers to the 7 plus an 8th sphere of fixed stars.
As for actually relating this to Rain World, it once again comes back to Guardians and Void Worms.
The glyphs on the Guardian halos differ from the rest of the written language we see in game as they represent numerals, (I believe this is confirmed through internal code, but if you're (reasonably) not in favor of using code as evidence I still believe it can be inferred through the surrounding context.) They show 7 logograms from 0-6, along with an eighth symbol.
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Here's a chart which I unfortunately don't know the creator of.
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I've already covered the relation between the Demiurge and Void Worms previously, (see the posts) but It's important to note that I'm not drawing any definitive conclusion here, part of why being I don't have one. Rain World does not strictly adhere to any one concept or religion, and we can only infer what they wanted to convey with the things they did use. It's also a piece of subjective, moody art and so evocative use of outside concepts such as this may only be a tool for interpretation.
With that being said, I believe it may be more fitting to view Void Worms not as a "collective Demiurge" so to speak, but rather as collective Archons. (Noting that Archons traditionally are not represented similarly to the Demiurge, as they're frequently depicted more anthropomorphically and in a way that bears more resemblance to the general cultural view of Demons.) This is for two reasons:
The pearl describing "moving stars" and the correlated dream we have likewise. Indicating the "wandering stars" and subsequently the planetary spheres.
Oh, interesting. This is a diary entry of a pre-Iterator era laborer during the construction of the subterranean transit system south of here. In it they describe restless nights filled with disturbing dreams, where millions glowing stars move menacingly in the distance.
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And the Deep Pink pearl in Farm Arrays, of which I'll give an excerpt of.
"On regards of the (by spiritual splendor eternally graced) people of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, we Wish to congratulate (o so thankfully) this Facility on its Loyal and Relished services, and to Offer our Hopes and Aspirations that the Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation may continue, for as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres and/or the Cooperation continues to be Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory."
I believe the stars (Void Worms) that "move" (wander), described above may be equivalent to the classical view of planets, and therefore the planetary spheres and the Archons that rule over them. The Benefactors viewed them as "disturbing" and "menacing", in stark contrast to fixed stars within their celestial spheres being seen as a good omen. A contrast seen at the highest and lowest points in the game;
Above, we see perfectly still stars.
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Below, a raging inferno of wandering stars, "Planets".
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winterzsurprise · 2 days ago
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Change My Mind [7]
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Pairing: BTS x reader
SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.
Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.
Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor
Words: 8.6k
IM BACK
laptop problem is solved. Shit was shady though (i literally have to pay the guy money for his 'efforts' in lying to get my laptop fixed) but its worth the money so idc. Rushed to finish this so this shit ain't beta read nor proofed, that's for Vuinterro of tomorrow to stress about. Will still take long to post chapters, might take a month per chapter. It really depends since I'm using this fic to fix my horrid writer's block and brain fog but I plan to see this fic through so dwww
also, what do you all think about having purely the boys' pov at some point in the story? Been thinking about having the boys' perspectives once the courting starts but that's prolly just me
lastly, enjoy this chapter. I hope my tired mind was able to write my vision down clearly, I'll fix the mistakes and add more details later on. Pls comment or like, I'm in desperate need for validation lmao
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______
Jung Hoseok is not scared.
Sure he screams bloody mary at the sight of bugs a thousand times smaller than him, and yeah he’s easily startled but he’s not scared.
Especially not by a piece of paper, that would be ridiculous!
The reason he went to his noona’s house instead of heading straight to the dorms after the news broke out that his Seokjin hyung is tethered to you is because she needed his help on something, and being the dutiful brother he is, swooped in to save the day!
“At least wash the dishes for me if you’re going to hide in my house because you’re being a scaredy cat,” Jiwoo says from the kitchen archway, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. “I still don’t get why you’re so scared of a piece of paper. The most it’ll do is give you a small cut.”
“Well, that ‘small cut’ still stings a lot!” He argued back, pulling the throw pillow closer to his chest. “And I’m not scared!”
It was irrational how he’s getting cold feet at the thought of the blood result. It’s not like he was hoping to see anything other than ‘negative’ there. 
Jimin would argue that he’s being pessimistic for thinking so but it was the obvious answer if you looked at his family tree. 
From his grandparents’ parents and down to him and his sister, there hasn’t been a single tethered from his bloodline like most of the world’s population. Unlike his Jin hyung who at least had one distant cousin who got a soulmate or his Yoongi hyung who at least had his grandparents as soulmates, his family was barren from such a blessing. His grandpa had joked once, saying their family was cursed for never birthing a single tethered. Ever.
Not even with the people they ended up had ever resulted in having a tethered no matter their family background..
For him to turn out to be a part of your nexus would be a miracle of the highest degree that would make the tales in the bible pale in comparison.
Daring to have himself tested is stupid, he already knew the result and submitting his DNA meant he was hoping.
But hope is nothing in the face of facts, he should be wishing instead; prayer sticks, shaman blessings and all that.
Hoseok knew he was being greedy, wishing to be a part of a nexus relationship as crowded as yours. Growing up with the rest, he knew how much of a handful Jungkook can be on his own, matched with Jimin who now possesses bottomless energy, he has no business trying to squeeze himself in places he can’t fit in. 
Sometimes he thinks he’s being influenced by the fact that he’s being singled out in the group. Now that their oldest has joined the harem, being the odd one out oddly felt ostracizing, being subjected to Taehyung and Jungkook discussing courting gifts, and Yoongi talking to Namjoon about their soulmarks shouldn’t have made him feel bitter but it did. 
“You saying that while pouting on my couch, miles away from your friends who now have your exam result, is not helping your case.”
“If you don’t have anything nice to say to your brother, you shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m saying a lot because I care about you. This,” She says, motioning to him to which he replied with an offended look. “Isn’t healthy. The more you’re hiding away, the more this will haunt you.”
“You’re just saying that because you’ll have hyung over soon.”
“That I am, so just get your shit together and go! I planned a night for us but I had to move it because of you.” She shot back but he knew it had no actual snark behind it. She had welcomed him with warm arms after all.
Hoseok had seen how his friends slowly fell in love with you while he continued to look at you and see a best friend. Seeing how everyone seems to have been captured by you, he got curious.
For a long time since debut, Hoseok had stopped perfecting his craft and pursuing his aspirations to pay attention to someone else. It was uncommon but he too once wished for a soulmate until practice, video shoots, and music production began to eat up most of his time and he forgot about his initial wish.
Seeing his brothers be taken by their best friend, his crush, he couldn't help but be curious how it came to be.
Was it because you were closer to their age and, for the lack of better terms, accessible to them that they had begun to seek the comfort of a lover in you?
“Do you think because she's also been busy with us that she began to seek comfort with us too?”
“Tae, just eat your breakfast.”
It was such a random thought from Tae one random morning, and Hoseok would’ve brushed it off like the other time he gets struck with an idea but this one stuck to him like an annoying ex. The idea loomed over him the whole journey to the company and back home. He grew hypersensitive to how he approached you since that morning and he began to notice the miniscule details he would’ve shrugged off any other day. 
From how your touches would linger on their skin, how you’d comfortably lean in closer to them without batting a single eye at how unusual it may seem to others, he took note of them all. It was how he knew their leader’s feelings for you, even if the man himself hadn't noticed it yet. 
Hoseok found his proof in Namjoon’s eyes that restlessly roamed the room until he’d find you in the bustle of the staff. It was also in the way he’d always reach out for you, may it be when you’d turn to leave and he’d catch a drama-esque scene where instead of calling out for your name, Namjoon would reach for your hand and speak to you with that soft look in his eyes and the genuineness in the dip of his dimples when he smiles.
Eyes never lie nor do the dimples on his cheeks whenever he grins, even when the beholder hasn’t realized it yet.
It was then did he realise how odd your relationship is with them and decided to take a step back to draw a line. 
Friends, especially ones whose gender are opposite of each other, aren’t supposed to be as touchy and comfortable the way you and his brothers are. You didn’t say anything when you noticed and wordlessly respected his decision. He was firm on drawing the line, his sister had questioned his actions but he’s determined, nothing is going to stop him from going back on his decision.
At least until he got sick.
Without any of his brothers available to tend to him as they had to leave for Japan the very day he fainted—he had to pass out while talking to the migration officer, so embarrassing!—, he thought he'd power through it alone for a few days. But then you volunteered to stay back to take care of him and everyone just let it happen as if it's normal.
Which is not.
He'd understand taking care of him during the job but to take a leave of absence just to watch over him because his family is unavailable due to the rough weather at the time, in a house far too big for the two of you while the rest flies to another country. It wasn’t appropriate, not normal at all. 
In the haze of his high fever, he had asked you how you were acting as if the situation was normal and in response, you had hit him lightly with the drenched towel you used to wipe his face.
“Don't be ridiculous. You're one of my best friends even if you’ve been acting up these past few days. I'm not about to leave while you're sick and alone in the dorms. If your family could come to Seoul, I would've left with the others so don't overthink. This is just me being a good friend.”
Cooking for him, wiping his face and making sure he's comfortable in bed—It felt far too domestic to be friendly. 
Familial doesn't sound like the right word either. There’s nothing familial about the butterflies in his stomach when you had kissed his forehead good night that day as a joke when Jimin had called you or when you had woken him up the next day.
Oh how beautiful you were that morning.
He knew at that moment that the goddess of beauty had favorites when she made your skin glow softly under the radiance of the rising morning sun like a halo and had your messy bed hair look frustratingly good on you. 
You were borrowing their clothes that day since you had already got your items shipped with the other staff, Taehyung’s white striped polo hung off on you like a dress and Jimin’s red basketball shorts gobbled up your form yet even with the fabrics dwarfing and hiding the curves of your body, he still thinks you’re the cutest sight he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.
You were especially cute in their clothes though.
In his feverish haze, all he could think about was how pleasant it’d be if you were to wake him up every morning like an angel welcoming him to heaven. What he’d give to the world to have you be the first thing he’d see in the morning.
Then you spoke and greeted him in that roughened sweet voice and Hoseok was gone.
Realization immediately had him freezing, tensing up as you let yourself fall across his blanket covered feet to groan about how sleepy you still are after putting down his medicine and breakfast on the bedside table. He hadn’t been able to reply, busy with tampering down the racing heartbeat echoing in his ears. 
Looking back a year later, him falling in love with you wasn’t as odd as he thinks it is, uncommon but still cliche. 
Jiwoo taking the space next to him made him jump, breaking off his line of thought.
“Seriously, just get it over with. The faster you see the result, the faster you can decide whether to move on or not.”
It was the most logical step to take but it felt…wrong somehow. 
He couldn’t imagine a day where he’d look at you and never feel the tickles of butterflies filling his stomach or the warmth your fingers would leave behind after carding through his hair or tilting his chin up to have a better look on his makeup. It felt like an offense to the fates.
Although loving you has its downsides, with your obliviousness to their feelings whether intentional or unintentional often makes him want to pull his hair out, he’d never regret feeling the joy of admiring someone when he’s with you. Hoseok has never felt more motivated to produce music with lyrics far too romantic to come from someone who has never had a lover since pre-debut. Not that you’d see that of course.
He couldn’t remember how many times he found himself wanting to grab you by the shoulders to shake you whenever you teased him about his creations, and hoped it would be enough to let you know that all those cheesy lyrics he had uncharacteristically puked out was all because of you.
“Don’t you go souring your face like that, you know that I’m right.”
“And just because you sound right, doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen to you.”
Jiwoo rolled her eyes and turned to her kitchen, probably to take a pan and hit him upside the head with it or to save herself from seeing the pathetic image of her brother being a fool for love. 
He knew not to hope, he repeated those words to himself but at the same time, he could sense the small, miniscule bead of it hidden within his heart, pushed down to the bottom of the barrel and awaiting its eventual death once he set his eyes on the negative results on his test.
In all of the times he got scared, Jung Hoseok has never been so terrified at the thought of being left out of your nexus. It would be the highest form of torture, a cruelest fate the heavens have dealt. 
How would he function seeing all his brothers do all the things he had imagined himself doing? Due to how sensitive the bond is, he wouldn’t be able to get a feel of your touch for a year, maybe two if the gods deemed it funnier.
What is he going to do then? Die from envy?
He wouldn’t be able to survive, it would ruin him completely. That parasitic feeling would eat him up from the inside and eventually spill out of him, it would damage the relationship he and his brothers had established through hardships and time. Something he too treasured as he does you.
A chime rang out and his eyes immediately fell to his phone on the coffee table. From the familiar set of emojis on the name of the messenger, he reached over to answer to his Yoongi hyung.
           [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i know what you’re doing            [18:23] Me: i don’t know what i’m even doing right now hyung            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: you may fool the others but im not like them            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: jiwoo had already asked me last week about this problem ur supposed to be fixing so dont even try to lie to me            [18:23] Me: im just worried            [18:23] Me: you know about my family history right? We never had a single tethered so idk what even possessed me to take that test with jin hyung when we already know the answer            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i think you’ll be surprised            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: not that i’m spoiling or anything, im just saying that if jesus could turn water into rum, then you can be the first tethered in your family            [18:23] Me: well im not a son of god am i?            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: don’t get sassy with me            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: im just saying, miracles can happen            [18:23] Me: i think i already lucked out with our jobs hyung            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i doubt that            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home tomorrow            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: the maknaes are planning a party for you            [18:23] Me: LOLOLOL WHAT            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: they even bought two different cakes            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: wont spoil what they say             [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home if you want know            [18:23] Me: i will 
Despite telling his hyung that he’ll return, he wasn’t sure if he’s going through that decision just yet.
“Did you at least bring a change of clothes with you?” Jiwoo chimes, reappearing from the kitchen archway.
“What if I don’t have any?”
“Then you’re sleeping in those.”
Despite her words, she eventually pulls out a pair of pajamas from her boyfriend’s temporary side of the closet for him to borrow. Sleeping that night was far from being an easy task when he could read and see from the images the maknaes are spamming the group chat, photos ranging from decent captures of moments to a blurry mess where the one holding the phone is running away from a figure that distinctly look like Jimin.
He tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his head and the way his stomach seems to shrunk and eat itself up with every picture and video he sees. He truly does try to ignore the voice judging him for daring to squeeze himself in an already perfect dynamic.
Eventually though, the voices quieten and he falls asleep.
______
Jimin is falling in love with his soulmate. 
It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone but he's actually falling in love with his soulmate. Tingling butterflies in his stomach, skipping heartbeat, tickling warmth in the chest, the whole mile.
What started off as playful admiration where he’d tease you and lightly tug or pull your hair up while you were putting setting powder on his under eye, quickly developed into a giggly high school romance kind of love where he’d avoid your eyes just so his stomach would stop feeling weird and feel the heat of your touch linger from where you last held him.
Now that he’s thinking about it, the whole thing sounds silly because of course he’s going to fall in love with his soulmate.
The morning started as most mornings have begun for him since Jungkook’s birthday, with your face, bare and naked of any products, and the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric of his clothes. More often than not, he’d find himself coming to consciousness feeling your body weight pressing on his arms or your breath ghosting against his throat and he'd just freeze. 
 Every time it happens, electric shocks would run down his skin and he’d be taking a quick trip to the bathroom to calm his racing heart.
It was insane how often he had to lean over the ceramic sink so early in the morning, breathing heavily to try and ground himself before he reenters the room and sneaks back into his bed, but strictly keeping himself on his side of the pillow fort while careful to take your hand in his once again without waking you up. 
But today, he found himself wishing for time to stop just so he could stare at your face at this very moment.
With the light sheen of the light filtered through the curtains bouncing on one side of your skin giving you an ethereal appearance, he found himself at a loss for words at the beauty presented before him. His eyes traced the lines of the long lashes kissing the apple of your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and down to the plush of your lips. 
Jimin has lost count on how many times he has wondered about how it’d felt pressing against his.
In the peaceful silence of the early mornings, all he did was stare and wait for time to pass while wishing internally for the world to slow just so he could soak in the peace the morning brought.
Eventually though, he had to steer his attention elsewhere. Jimin rolls to the other end to reach for his phone on the bedside table.
He’s been scrolling on his phone for a couple of minutes, lurking in the fandom space—both international and local—when the door creaks open and Taehyung steps in with sleep-lidden eyes and body heavy with lethargy. Forgoing to close the door of their room, he trudged towards the bed like an overworked employee before promptly falling face first to the spot between you and him. He churned in the small space, making himself comfortable by throwing an arm around your blanket-covered form.
For a long while, the only sound in the room came from the occasional videos he plays.
It was weird. Having a soulmate who has multiple soulmates is weird.
He should be feeling disturbed seeing someone cuddle up to his soulmate but he wasn’t. Jimin, contrary to popular belief, is possessive, probably more than Jungkook was in his younger age. Although it wasn’t to the point of killing like people like to showcase in films these days, possessiveness for him is as tame as snaking arms around waists and narrowed eyes. 
Maybe there’s a bit of pulling them aside for a quick reminder in the middle of an event but the point is, he’s possessive. 
But he couldn’t find a single cell in his body who was bothered by the presence of someone else in the room. 
This soulmate thing is weird.
When he laughed at a post, Taehyung dragged himself up to shoulder level just to see what he was laughing at before giggling himself. Suddenly, you push yourself up and turn to them with squinted eyes.
“Good morning, noona.”
“Tae? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, Seokjin hyung sent me up here to wake you both up—”
“It’s still too early!” she groaned, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m not built for working this early!” 
“— he said if you don’t go down before seven, he’ll eat the can of smelly fish you bought for him in Sweden as a joke.”
You paused, the threat successfully shutting you up before you let out an exaggerated groan and dramatically burying yourself back into the pillow.
“Can’t a girl rest? I have a bad headache, and I don’t even know if the beating is Namjoon’s or mine.”
It’s easy to forget how there’s six different soulmarks affecting her all at the same time. From how she’d hear their leader’s heartbeat no matter how far, to the altered taste due to his Seokjin hyung’s mark, and to his Healing Touch. He couldn’t even fathom how much of a nightmare it is sensing everyone.
They eventually dragged themselves down to the dining room after a quick bathroom break. Jin had immediately greeted them with heaps upon heaps of pancakes with maple syrup drooling over the side and scrambled eggs on the table. 
Yoongi and Namjoon were already nursing their cups of coffee on the table—with Joon hyung taking his rightful spot on one end of the table as the leader, Seokjin hyung taking the seat on the opposite side, and Yoongi next to their leader—Seokjin was occupied with his food when they arrived, one scrolling on his phone while the other crazily scribbled on his journal.
“You didn’t even try to at least cook me waffles, hyung. I’m hurt!” He exclaimed and the man rolled his eyes.
“In another life, if you were my soulmate, maybe I would’ve considered it.” Jin then flashed a smile at you before skipping back to the kitchen.
Jimin couldn’t help but notice how you shifted uncomfortably on your seat at the noticeably more generous portion on your plate and he switched his plate with yours, immediately shoving one into his mouth before his hyung returned. An action noticed by everyone in the room.
“Jimin,” Yoongi called out, voice gentle as a whisper. “Give me one.” 
He followed, standing up to bring his plate closer to his hyung and passing it over, adding the eggs into the equation when Yoongi motioned him to add it. Seokjin returns when Jungkook has trudged out of his room and taking the empty space next to Taehyung.
Jungkook immediately noticed the generous amounts on his plate and immediately reached out for two pancakes with his fingers and plopping it down on his plate before taking three more from the middle dish and practically drowning his towers in maple syrup. As if it wasn’t enough, he reached for the softened butter.
When Jin returned, it was with another dishful of bacon and slices of apple. If he noticed the change of plates, he said nothing. 
For a long while, they all occupied themselves with their food. A companionable silence 
“What’s the agenda for today?” Jungkook was the first to break the silence.
“Yoongi hyung is coming with us to buy furniture for noona.” Jimin replied.
Taehyung then stops slicing his pancake and jutted out his lips towards Yoongi’s direction.
“Can I come with you?”
“I need your voice for the new song I’ve been working on.” Namjoon replied, looking up from his journal with a stern stare directed at the pouting boy. “You’ve been gone for so long, I have a couple for you to work on.”
“I can do that tomorrow, hyung. Let me go just for today? Hm?” 
“I can go right? Since you need Tae’s voice instead of mine.” Jungkook sleepily chimed in, eyes still half closed and a hand raised halfway.
“You’ll do the carrying?” Yoongi challenges.
“I’ll even do the talking.”
Jungkook held his gaze with a small, playful grin, waking his face up which Yoongi matched after a couple seconds passed.
“Alright, you’re going with us, kid.”
“I have a touch-based soulmark, I need to come too!” Taehyung argued..
“It's not as drastic as Jimin’s. Even then, you’ve recharged enough.” Seokjin responds, pointing his fork at him.
But before Tae could reply, a shrill notification sound pierced through the air and Y/N pulled her phone out of the pockets of her sleep shorts. Eomma <3
Shit.
Seeing how fast the entertained lilt in her expression drops into dread, the table falls into a hush. As if sensing the approaching tsunami of words from her mother, Yoongi takes his mug and walks out of the room with Seokjin following close behind. 
_____
“What did I hear about you getting a soulmate? You ungrateful child, I carried you for nine months and raised you with my blood, sweat, and tears yet this is how you treat me?!”
That was how your mother had begun the moment you had accepted her call. Her voice, despite being carried through such a small device, had blasted out, her uncontainable rage far too grand to be limited by the phone’s initial features. How a small woman could hold such an explosive anger and powerful voice is a wonder no one in the world has the answer for.
Hearing her voice through the speakers had Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon fleeing the scene, but not without karma immediately hitting their leader who had accidentally checked his shoulder on the wall on his way out.
Jungkook followed quickly, dunking his milk in one go and taking his plate with him as he jogged to follow his hyungs, Taehyung behind him.
Jimin had tried to leave but was stopped by both your entangled hands.
“So damn ungrateful you are! Didn't even tell me what was happening, a fucking lawyer knocked on my door and there I find out that my child is tethered. What was my daughter doing to forget to tell HER mother she had soulmates? Why did I have to hear it from someone I don't know?!”
“Did you really think you could leave me alone here?” I whisper-shout at him.
“Noona, let me go. I know we can go for five minutes now.”
“You’re really gonna risk our health for that?”
“At least don’t turn the camera at me, let me hide under the table.”
“Is that my new son-in-law Jimin?” Your mother had chimed, her tone taking a sudden turn. I turned the camera to him despite the insistent shake of head and wide eyes. “When you said you were also trying to find a husband for my daughter, I didn’t think you’d mean you and your brothers!”
“I know right?! Who knew I’d be one of the husbands I’ve been talking about, right auntie?”
“Already talking about marriage, huh? Y/N!” You turn the camera to you and find her smiling so wide you feel your cheeks ache for her. “Your soulmates got good heads on them, already thinking about marriage this early on!”
You shake your head. 
While marriage had once been an issue you lost sleep on, you knew it was impossible to attain as idols. They still got stadiums to perform in, songs to compose and perform for the ARMY. Bangtan would continue on for years as long as they sing and dance or as long as their passion remains alive and roaring. They had worked hard to get where they are now, with the taste of glory and power that comes with their rise in fame, retirement is a far away dream when they’re just getting started. 
Not to mention, your brain still struggles to accept your new reality despite the very apparent a red string connecting you and Yoongi over the table, and hearing Namjoon's heartbeat at the back of your mind. Hoseok hasn’t even checked his test result yet but your mother is already looking decades ahead.
“Ma please, you know that’s after they retire which is thirty years from now.”
“Jimin,” she calls out, lip jutted out in a pout and he leans over to get into the frame. “Are you guys going to make this old woman wait to see her daughter be a bride? I’m not gonna last long you know? My bones hurt every morning and my appetite is beginning to weaken.”
Jimin laughed nervously, eyes wide as he turned to you for help but you're not going to jump in when his face has calmed the raging beast. 
“Don't think for one second that I'm done with you, you ungrateful brat! You haven't even told me why you broke it off with Guwon when he was about to propose!”
“D-does it really matter now?” You winced when Jimin narrowed his eyes at you. Suddenly remembering what was drowned out by the sudden revelation of your soulmate links.
“It doesn't, global popstars sound much better than a lawyer anyway but would it hurt you to tell me what happened exactly? Don't you think your mother deserved an explanation at least after I toiled away trying to find you a husband?!”
“Don't you worry about it anymore, auntie,” Jimin says, voice like a gentle caress trying to tame her fierce anger. “Noona now has seven to care for her now, we'll get to that bridge when it comes but for now, how about we treat you girls to a nice spa out in Jeju?”
“Oh? I wouldn't want to impose on your bonding period, but I'd like to take that offer later. How so nice of you, Jiminie.”
“It’s not the best of gifts but I assure you that there’s plenty to come. Expect a couple of fruit baskets from Yoongi hyung and other stuff too from the others.
“You seven better take care of my daughter, it would be a shame if you all mucked it all up and I have to resent you all.” Your mother sighed, feigning sadness. “Anyways, expect a visit from Soo-in soon dear daughter. She will deliver my heartfelt joy in my stead, your father still needs my help around the house, damn pride of his, he shouldn’t have mindlessly tried to fix the roof himself.”
A shiver wracks down your spine at the thought of your mother’s gift after ghosting her and Soo-in for almost a week now. 
The last time your sister had visited, it was after Jungkook had ‘ran-into-the-sunset’ with you on his shoulder and him covered from head to toe in black. The vile wrench had switched your sugar and salt, hid the lids of your tupperwares, hid lego in your shoes before eventually ending her wickedness by hiding the wires of your charger and the wifi router’s adapter.
If your mother only threatened to hang you upside down, Soo-in made sure everything in life became irritatingly inconvenient.
“She won’t be pinching my ears?”
“She’s classier than that, I raised her first so expect more. I love you, dear daughter! Visit us soon with your seven soulmates!”
__________
[Today, 12:42]            [12:42] The BADDEST💅: so let me get one thing straight and two things gay            [12:42] The BADDEST💅: ur linked with bangtan?            [12:42] The BADDEST💅: THE ENTIRE ROSTER?????            [12:43] The Mother😌: congratulations Y/N, I’m so glad you finally found your soulmates😊            [12:43] The Mother😌: always knew you’d be tethered            [12:43] The PRETTIEST🌸: so who’s the biggest?👀            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: girl I don’t even think you got the libido for two            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: how tf are you gonna handle seven?!?!?!            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she was in the hospital u fiend @The Prettiest            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she needs to be worrying about a different type of d to receive            [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: SHUT IT MINHYUK            [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: hoseok isn’t confirmed yet so its just six for now            [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: bet you wish he’s your soulmate too            [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: cuz the way that man thrusts his hips in baepsae?            [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: 🥵            [12:44] The Mother😌: have some faith in her, she’ll manage            [12:44] The Mother😌: gift giving for your birthday just got a whole lot easier though😊            [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: wdym by that @The Mother😟            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: NO BUT SRSLY            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW TF ARE YOU GONNA MANAGE SEVEN            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: ONE DICK PER DAY??? SEVEN DAYS A WEEK??/             [12:45] The BADDEST💅: lowkey wish that for me BUT            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW??????             [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: MINHYUK PLEASE            [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: JIMIN IS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME            [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: NABI CONTROL YOURSELF            [12:46] The PRETTIEST🌸: don’t scold me when ik ur thinking about it too            [12:46] The Mother😌: when’s the soulbinding?            [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: Jihae please, its only been a few days            [12:46] The Mother😌: back in my days, people bound themselves and completed the bond on the first day…            [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: minhyuk i think you're forgetting the best part out of this            [12:47] The BADDEST💅: wut?            [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: imagine Alexa’s reaction when she finds out our dearest Y/N is Seokjin’s real soulmate            [12:47] The BADDEST💅: OH            [12:48] The BADDEST💅: she better HOPE she’s not in bighit anymore the moment the NDA expires            [12:48] The BADDEST💅: im going to be the most annoying fucker she’ll ever meet [Today, 13:02]            [13:02] The BADDEST💅: no but srsly how?            [13:02] The PRETTIEST🌸: R I P that pussy ayee
________
There’s nothing more infuriating than picking furniture with your soulmates, you decided.
Yoongi wanting everything to be practical and of the greatest quality matched with Jungkook’s penchant for only liking soft things, it was hell to be stuck in a furniture warehouse with the both of them. Jimin had never looked so godly when he insisted on letting you pick the brownish-red persian rug to be placed under the wide round canopy bed you had eventually settled with after a long debate with the rapper and the youngest.
What started as Jimin towing you around the shop to place you in front of every furniture before a mischievous grin spread across his lips, and the strength of the bed frames immediately turned sour when you both found your other two companions calmly arguing about the color of the curtains—they both eventually settled with thick white, and beige curtains, to Jungkook’s dismay.
He wanted black-out curtains for when he eventually ends up sleeping in your bed, he claimed.
The current dilemma, however, had you going silent as the prickles of irritation began to itch your skin.
Yoongi wanted to commission a carpenter he knew for a custom desk made for you and is insisting on you to skip shopping for tables and shelves, and take the cheapest one for now but Jungkook thinks it’ll take too long and wanted the boho vanity table set with a huge round mirror with stained glass around the edges. The rapper wanted the place you’d be doing work on, to be built with the practical features while keeping it organized but Jungkook, although he saw his hyung’s vision, refused.
“Imagine waking up with a canopy, great quality bed, amazing decor, then you have to stand up and work on a rackety blue plastic table because you have to wait months for that desk. How does that sound, hyung?”
Jimin not picking sides only added to the pounding headache you’re having.
While you understand both sides of the argument, either of those options didn't make you feel less guilty about having them skip work to spend all this money for your room, even if you knew how barely of a scratch their collective funds will take.
If Taehyung hadn't had the foresight to hide your wallet while you were in the shower with Jimin, the guilt would've been lighter.
You envy Jin who has been prickling your tastebuds with honey glazed fried chicken back in bighit, the lingering taste on your tongue making your stomach uncomfortably churn in hunger.
The disguises could only last for so long before people start noticing how familiar your soulmates’ eyes are, seeing as they’re plastered everywhere in the major cities. For the public to see your hands entangled in the pocket of Jimin’s coat would fuel the press for a year; hell, a century even with how the media moves these days.
As Jungkook’s voice picks up, you reach for the red string and Yoongi halts, looking down at the connecting line before gently grabbing it too.
‘Head hurts’
‘No more’
The rapper lets out an exhale and Jungkook stops.
‘Sorry’
‘Forgive?’
“Ok, so how about we take the set and I commission my guy then we’ll change it out once it's done?”
“Deal.”
Next to you, Jimin sighed in relief. “Thank god that’s settled, I thought I was going crazy listening to them debate on what’s better.”
“I don’t think either of them has ever fought for something they wanted that much.”
You turn to Jimin and a teasing smirk grows on his face.
“They love you like that, noona. Wanted nothing but the best of the best for you.” 
In a different context, you would've easily brushed off his comment but having the warmth of his touch thrum from your hand to your toes, the healing touch always at work, your cheeks flushed dark and you lightly slapped his arm.
Ever dramatic, he clutched his bicep and winced.
“Why are you hurting me like this?”
“Please, we have regeneration as our soulmark. You're barely hurt.”
“I'm gonna bruise and the fans are gonna see it then I'm telling them how much you like hurting me!”
________
When Hoseok arrived it was with a chorus of loud bangs!. The man had leapt at least a foot or two from the shock as confetti rained on him. 
Once he recovered though, he rained curses on the mischievous maknaes—and surprisingly, Yoongi and Namjoon too but they were spared due to one having his hyung privilege and Namjoon having retreated to the kitchen before his hyung had recovered from the shock.
Jin had clapped him in the back when he entered the dining room, fitting the huge and frilly birthday hat on his head and taking a picture of his dumbfounded reaction before the man could even realise what was happening.
Seeing them celebrate such a small thing, an odd feeling settles in your heart. You try not to be a killjoy but you couldn't ignore the mass settling on your gut.
Everything continued on as normal, everyone acted like they had before Jungkook's confession. They find out their links to you and suddenly, the past is behind them. As if you hadn't—although unintentionally—led them on and hadn't rejected three of them. A soul link appears and every fault was forgiven.
It wasn't only you who seemed to be feeling this way though.
Namjoon too it seems, seeing how he had kept his distance. Not in a bad way but rather a respectable, perfectly platonic way. You guessed it'll take long before the information would sink in for the non-believer, he was the one who had treated you more professionally than the others. You'd feel his concerned eyes ever so often but other than that, he'd treat you like a fragile glass.
Never to be touched and never to be perceived too long, fearing the weight of his gaze is enough to make you crumble.
(Or was it just you turning something that was normal before into fuel for your restless mind with the soulmarks now in the picture?)
You knew Namjoon is just having a hard time settling down with the fact that he's in a nexus connection with you but the ugly voice at the back of your head whispered a different tale. All of them are negative and judged far too harshly than you normally do yourself.
Jungkook bets his hyung will break after the third week, Tae says a month, and Jimin slyly says next week. You think it'll take Namjoon at least half a year before he properly processes him being tethered to someone, a non-believer.
The thumb that began to caress your knuckles snapped you out of your thoughts and you immediately found Jimin’s concerned eyes.
“You okay?”
You nod but he knew you better. Luckily, he lets it go.
“Open it, open it!” Jungkook chants, bringing everyone to gather around them.
Hoseok nervously laughed, placing down his car keys, phone, and wallet on the table before flipping the envelope’s flap. 
Unconsciously, you leaned forward as he carefully tears the paper, the sound seeming to echo loudly in the silence of everyone’s nervous anticipation. As his brothers had gone from standing at a respectful distance to noisily looking over the main dancer’s shoulder, Jimin had tugged you closer to join them, standing in front and peering over as Hoseok flips open the first fold.
Then out of nowhere, Yoongi had a burst of energy and screamed.
Everyone jumped at his sudden burst of energy making Hoseok’s hand shoot up to his heart and the three maknaes snapped their head to their hyung. The man in question laughed noiselessly, satisfied with the reaction he garnered.
“Hyung, why did you do that?! I just got out of the hospital and you want to send me back again!”
“You’re practically invincible, what are you talking about?” Yoongi shot back.
“Just open it, all I’m seeing is your information hyung and that’s boring!” Taehyung cuts in. “I already know what your blood type is, your last name—”
“You go open it then—”
His words died on his tongue when Taehyung snatched the paper up from the envelope and pulled it open. But before he could start reading the result, Hoseok took it back.
Waiting as he read through his results felt like watching the presidential race on the tv, heartbeat rising every time the opposing candidate gained more than the man you elected. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth. His eyebrows furrowed, his frown deepening as his eyes wandered lower and you began to panic.
Why are you even nervous? 
Aren't you being too greedy for wanting to have Hobi too?
Hoseok then crumbled into the floor, curling up to himself as he clutched the paper to his chest. Instantly, everyone panics as his heart shattering sobs echoed in the living room.
Suddenly, the colorful decorations hanging on the wall and the balloons scattered on the floor made
“Hoba? What’s wrong?”
“Hyung come on, don’t make me nervous like this!”
“What did it say?”
Jimin falls next to him, your hand momentarily forgotten to comfort his hyung and Jungkook follows, hugging the sobbing man while Seokjin reaches for the crumpled paper peeking out of Hoseok’s curled up form, a grim expression on his face.
“I am writing to inform you of the results of your recent soulmark evaluation and tethered status assessment. After a thorough examination and review of your diagnostic tests, it has been confirmed that you are,” Seokjin takes a deep breath then releases it shakily, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “Indeed tethered.”
You let go of the breath you had unconsciously held in as everyone in the room began to celebrate. Jimin pulled Hoseok to stand, laughing as the man continued to weep before reaching up to fix the birthday cap Seokjin had slipped onto his head. Jungkook, unable to stop himself from ridiculing his hyungs whenever he could, pulled out his phone to record them.
“How do you feel knowing you’re the first ever tethered in your family?”
Taehyung follows by placing his phone under Hoseok’s chin like a mic.
“You must be so happy being the first Jung to have a soulmate since the dawn of time, sir. Please tell us what you’re feeling right now.”
“Get that fucking… camera off my face or I’ll break it.”
Hearing this, Namjoon turns to the maknaes. “Stop teasing him, Seokjin hyung isn’t even done reading it.”
Despite this, Jungkook didn’t stop recording but Taehyung had skipped over to look over Seokjin’s shoulder.
“I think you’ll want to read this one yourself, Hoba.” The oldest says, handing the paper over to the sniffling man.
With his result back in his hand, Hoseok straightened himself, clearing his throat as Jimin gently wipes his tears off of his cheeks.
“This means you have a soulmate, a unique and profound connection that is both rare and significant. Furthermore, based on the characteristics of your soulmark and the energy patterns observed, there is a high probability that your soulmark is of the altering type.”
“They have the technology to figure out the soulmark type too?” Yoongi asks, surprised.
“Unfortunately, the global fated registry haven’t figured out a way to pinpoint what soulmark our patients have. It is with our deepest—”
“Didn’t know that, had mine cancelled when I figured it out before the results came.” Seokjin replied. Beside him, Taehyung pulls up his phone to rapidly type out whatever he had in his mind.
“I wonder what kind of altering mark it is. There’s a lot of documented ones but what if it’s also a new soulmark? A revived one from the 19th century like Jimin’s?”
“That’s unlikely.” Yoongi refutes.
“You don’t know that.”
With the initial elation ebbing away, everyone continued the celebration seated around the dining table where Jimin had parted from you to take out the congratulating cake from the fridge to light up and serve in front of their hyung who had almost toppled over with how hard he laughed seeing it.
Yoongi had insisted they also take out the apologizing cake so it wouldn’t go to waste. Upon hearing this, the group broke out in laughters, unbelieving until Jungkook brings out the ube flavored cake with the sentence “sorry your family nerfed your potential to be a lover boy.” placed on top in red icing.
The excitement never faded away through the night, dinner was lively, as if they had swept the four daesangs on both award shows. But instead of being influenced by the joy you feel down the red line from Yoongi and the practically vibrating maknaes sitting across you who keep cutting through conversations with suggestions on what soulmark their hyung might have, you find yourself standing behind a tall wall.
When everyone cheered and raised their mugs to toast, you only felt yourself mentally retreat further as a mass settled deep in the pit of your gut.
Seeing the men around you with wrists decorated in thick bands of gold that cost more than your yearly wage, faces flawless from careful maintenance, and names carrying the weight of their country’s pride, did you really deserve them? 
You, who was a nobody staff they just happen to gravitate to due to the closeness of age, matched with the members of the world’s biggest boyband. They weren’t just out of your league. You’re the human on earth wishing to reach the stars from another, far away galaxy, yet by fate’s generosity, you were given the chance to see the beauty of them from up close.
How does one come from dating sleazy men with oily hair and faces akin to an infant’s drawing to being tethered to superstars everyone in the world would sacrifice a life for a chance to talk to them?
When everyone had begun to retire for the night, Jimin had silently guided you back to his room. The sensation of him pressing a kiss on your forehead cuts off your thoughts, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug grounding you further.
“Are you with me now, noona?”
“Of course, I always am.” You answered with a scoff, pulling away and he frowned.
“I could sense your feelings the entire dinner, don’t try to lie to me.”
Even in the shades of his room bare of any bright lighting, you feel Jimin stare past your physical body and peer into your soul. In the harsh darkness with only you and him standing in it, you felt exposed, stripped to the barest bone under his gaze.
Never have you ever hated having a soulmate than you do now with someone perceiving your feelings openly, sensing the slightest shift in your mood with a brush of skin. It's annoying, scary yet at the same time relieving that there’s someone who could hear the tune of the noise in your brain. 
Not many people have the same luck you have, seven soulmates with one of them granting you what technically is immortality, who else wins at life like that?
But do you really deserve it? Deserve them?
“Stop that. You deserve this, deserve all of us. If someone thinks otherwise, tell me their name and I’ll go beat them up.”
You laugh. “You can’t do that, that’ll stain your image.”
“I don’t think you understand just how important you are to me, noona.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “Before you think about it, I’ll beat someone up for you with or without the soulmarks.”
The image of someone with the face of an angel and a sweet demeanor like Jimin jumping someone in the parking lot to fight for your honor shouldn’t have made you cackle the way you did. The warm rumbles from your linked hands spread across your body and the thoughts were immediately silenced.
“I know you wouldn’t like it but I’ll be telling the other guys about this. I don’t like how you think you’re undeserving of all this when you do, in fact, deserve this bond after sticking with us through thick and thin. You saw all of our flaws and helped us in our bad days, you may think you haven’t done much to warrant this kind of luck but you do.” 
Jimin pressed his lips on your forehead and your heart skipped a beat.
“Namjoon hyung might have a problem expressing it, Yoongi hyung might not show it openly like Jungkook and Taehyung does, but they share the same sentiment. It’ll take them time to be more expressive so I hope you find it in yourself to be patient. We’re still in the adjusting phase so if anything bothers you, don’t hesitate to tell us.”
Tears were streaming down your face at this point, eyes burning as they poured out like a waterfall. The softness in his voice has eased its way into your heart and dispelled the gloominess surrounding it, replacing it with a crashing wave of relief followed by the warmth provided by the soulmark.
You didn’t realise how much your thoughts had been wearing you down until tonight. Comforted by his words and the tightness of his hug, the dam finally breaks and you falter in his hold.
“Shh, cry it all out, noona.”
“I-I shouldn’t be crying over something so stupid like this.”
He shakes his head. “It's not stupid. Don’t say that.”
There’s a tug on your pinkie and you feel the string grow heavier. Immediately, Yoongi’s concern bleeds into you.
‘Why crying?’
‘What happened?’
“Let’s go lay down, noona. I’m feeling the ache in my muscles bending down like this.” He says lightheartedly, giggling. “Don’t worry about answering the others, I’ll handle it later.”
Guiding you to the bed, Jimin tugs you to fall into his arms and you let yourself be pulled into his chest.
Between the sound of Jimin and Namjoon’s heartbeats, and his fingers tracing slow circles on your back while the other hand massaged your scalp, it was easy to be lulled into sleep. In the echoing sound of your sniffles and hiccups, his sweet humming permeates through the air. His song was familiar yet your sleep addled mind took a second to realise what it was.
Serendipity, your mind eventually supplied.
For a moment, in the solace his arms offered, the world became quiet and you fell asleep, forgetting to worry about what chaos yesterday will bring.
_________
TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife
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cometconmain · 3 days ago
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Wired is paid subscription only but I found someone on Reddit who posted the full text for everyone. (Sorry to anyone with screen readers, this is A LOT to type on my phone. I'll come back later to add it in when I have access to my computer.)
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Here are some other articles I've found talking about it as well.
https://www.reuters.com/world/us/young-techies-underpin-musks-drive-slash-size-us-government-2025-02-05/
“I’ve been furloughed, I guess?” said one contractor with 15 years of experience for the bureau for humanitarian assistance, where she had helped coordinate urgent responses in Ukraine, Gaza, Somalia and Latin America. “I don’t know what my status is but I don’t think I work here right now.” By Monday, Kliger wrote an email to all staff at 12.42am to tell them not to bother coming into the building that day.
The incident has illustrated how Doge employees with Musk’s backing were able to override USAid leadership and bypass government procedures for accessing restricted areas with classified materials, fueling criticism that his agency is a national security risk.
“Did Secretary Rubio allow this kind of access by Musk’s employees?” asked Kim. “It worries me about USAid but if it’s happening here, I’m guessing it’s probably happening at all these other national security agencies.”
Formally, Rubio has delegated responsibility to Marocco, who has been pressed by congressional staffers to give details of the changes affecting USAid and the $40bn in foreign aid it manages each year. “The question at hand is: who’s in charge of the state department?” Senator Brian Schatz told the Guardian. “So far the answer has been Pete Marocco.”
Doge did not respond to questions about what security clearances, if any, the engineers held. “No classified material was accessed without proper security clearances,” wrote Katie Miller, a Doge spokesperson, on social media. But Scifs are regulated by a strict protocol and it is unclear who could have verified the Doge employees’ credentials and filed the necessary paperwork to allow them to enter.
Inside the building, staffers said that Doge cultivated a culture of fear. “It’s an extreme version of ‘who do you trust, when and how?’” said Kristina Drye, a speechwriter at the agency, who watched dozens of senior colleagues escorted out of the building by security. “It felt like the Soviet stories that one day someone is beside you and the next day they’re not.” People started meeting for coffee blocks away because “they didn’t feel safe in the coffee shops here to even talk about what’s going on”, she added. “I was in the elevator one morning and there was an older lady standing beside me and she had glasses on and I could see tears coming down under her glasses and before she got off her elevator she took her glasses off, wiped her eyes, and walked out,” she said. “Because if they see you crying, they know where you stand.”
(Btw I want to make it very clear I'm reblogging this because it's just their names and I'm not aware of or intending to support any address sharing because that would be doxxing which is unacceptable behaviour, especially when we want to make a world where collecting, sharing and using someone's personal data without their consent at all let alone to harm them is unacceptable behaviour. Their names are apparently easily seen on their own social media profiles as of this date, so it looks like their names are not currently private information. Their families also don't deserve to be harassed or attacked for these peoples' behaviour, so I don't support that either.)
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These men just stole the personal information of everyone in America AND control the Treasury. Link to article.
Akash Bobba
Edward Coristine
Luke Farritor
Gautier Cole Killian
Gavin Kliger
Ethan Shaotran
Spread their names!
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fangirl-writes · 22 hours ago
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Insufferable
JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
Warning(s): Kissing, weed smoking, no swearing in this one surprisingly.
Request: Hi! I notice you haven't posted in while, so it's chill if you don't get to this request. I just really like your fics. I was wondering if you could write a JJ Maybank x Reader from the perspective of the Charleston episode in season 2? I was thinking J and reader are in a relationship already, and most of it's just them talking and bantering with Pope and Kie, and maybe cuddling/giggling/kissing on/in the truck? I think it'd be cute! Love your stuff!
Notes: This was fun. Usually these fics have more of the actual plot going on that I have to weave in and out of, but this one I was able to keep it to the one scene or so scene that was requested.
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There were a lot of worse situations to be in.
Sitting in the back of Pope's dad's truck on the ferry on your way to Charleston and passing a blunt back and forth with JJ was pretty good, all things considered.
Pope and Kie were perched on the tailgate while you and JJ's backs were against the window.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" JJ said.
"You talking to me or the weed?" you joked.
"Oh, you're beautiful, too, baby," JJ joked back, blowing his smoke in your face.
You laughed, shoving him and stealing the blunt from between his fingers.
"Asshole," you said, affectionately.
"Can you two focus?" Pope said, frowning. "We're trying to clear John B.'s name here. And right now this letter's our best bet."
"Right. Stay on task," JJ said as you discreetly passed the blunt to Kiara. "That's why I love ya, Pope."
Kie took a hit before standing up and handing it to him. "Which Pope you gonna be today?"
Pope considered it for a moment, eyes darting between the blunt and Kiara's face. "I'm good."
He shifted back a little, folding his hands.
"I'm gonna try to stay focused."
"Good Pope," Kiara said, disappointedly taking another hit before passing you back the joint.
"Boring Pope," you joked.
"I'll take that," JJ said, reaching for the joint that you quickly pulled out of his reach.
Pope threw his legs over the side of the truck and hopped out of the bed, leaning against the side as you dangled it above JJ's head.
"Sit, boy! Speak!" you said.
"Arf!" JJ responded, biting at the joint like a dog vying for a treat.
You laughed, allowing him to grab it and scratching behind his ear playfully. "Good boy!"
"You two are disgusting," Kiara said, laying down on her back in the bed of the truck with her feet propped up on the side.
"You're just jealous," JJ said, inhaling deeply and opening his mouth to let the smoke fly out.
"Right, that's it," Kiara said, sarcastically, taking the joint and another hit.
JJ leaned over and began whispering in your ear, biting at your ear lobe a little, making you giggle.
"C'mon, baby, give me a kiss," JJ said, puckering his lips at you.
You and JJ were never shy about being affectionate, sometimes to the point of grossing the other pogues out if you got a little too lost in it.
But you were proud of your relationship with JJ and weren't afraid to show everyone who he belonged to.
Especially when tourons or kooks would leer at him at parties.
It was nice to walk up to JJ and kiss him square on the mouth and watch those other girls' jaws drop when JJ practically turned into a puddle at your feet.
You pecked his lips.
"Just because you've been such a good boy," you said, giggling.
Kiara was practically asleep and Pope had taken off on a walk somewhere, so you allowed JJ to kiss you a little harder for a moment.
"If you two are gonna suck face, could you at least have the decency to do it inside the truck?" Kiara asked, eyes still closed.
You snorted, pulling away from JJ with a laugh.
JJ smirked. "If we did that, you might not want to get back in it later."
You laughed harder and Kiara made a disgusted face before kicking JJ with her foot.
The bliss wouldn't last.
As always, the pogues encountered a bump in their road.
More specifically, Pope's dad's truck's radiator blew and they had to one: get it towed, two: get it fixed, and three: find someplace to crash for the night.
Which ended up being an empty patch of grass where they could park the truck and sleep in the bed.
Thankfully, Pope's dad kept the thing practically stuffed with blankets and towels you could lay out for a…reasonably comfortable sleep.
It wasn't a memory foam mattress or anything, but it wasn't so bad.
You cuddled up to JJ, laying your head on his chest and he put an arm around you.
"Looks like it's slumming it for you and me again, huh?" JJ mumbled, sliding his cap over his eyes.
You hummed. "Well, anything's better than that time you convinced me to sleep in the tree by John B.'s house. I had bark marks for a week."
"Yeah, that was my bad," JJ admitted, smiling a little.
"Doesn't beat the hammock, though," you said.
JJ hummed.
The hammocks that hung around the trees of the chateau were your and JJ's favorite cuddle spot, where you snuck out to whenever you could.
No funny business could go on in them though, unless you wanted to end up face down in the dirt…which may or may not have happened a time or two.
…What? Sometimes the two of you just can't keep your hands to yourselves.
You yawned.
"Good night everyone," Pope said, lying down.
You and JJ shared a look as Kiara leaned over and kissed Pope on the cheek.
"Good night," she said.
You snuggled a little closer to JJ and he tucked you carefully in his arms before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.
"Wonder where John B. and Sarah are right now," he said, before finally drifting off.
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five-one-two-station · 1 day ago
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Hello.
To talk about performing lesbian sex as if it's demeaning is inherently homophobic.
No ifs or buts. That's what it is.
What someone is telling you when they say this, is that they think you are either degrading yourself by pleasuring your lover, or having her degrade herself for your pleasure.
There is no benign interpretation to make. They may squeal when it's pointed out, but they've been too honest by accident to row back. "I'm not homophobic but-" is meaningless once somebody has inadvertently revealed this is how they think of you under the surface.
Les/Bi girls, firstly, you do not need to, and should not, engage with people who say things like this. At all. Whatever you do, do not give them the benefit of the doubt, they'll make you regret it sooner or later. They are telling you exactly who they are, and what they think of you. Disengage, and go talk to someone who doesn't despise you under their breath.
Much less importantly, but also true - you do not have to take any of their other mutterings about lesbian characters, storylines, tropes, culture, conversation, society, history - lesbian anything - in good faith. They have just told you they think all of it is built on something that makes the participants lesser for the fact they participate; they find lesbian physical intimacy diminishing, they think giving a woman oral is demeaning, that receiving is immoral.
It doesn't even matter how stupid the rest of their take is (and it will be), that's all you need to know.
You are not going to get anything worth hearing out of them, no matter how much twitter Vocab of the Day they try to fluff it with.
Block them. Ignore them. Protect yourselves from people who want you to believe stuff like this about yourself and your sexuality.
Start your own conversations with people who aren't dense or malicious. If they try to resurface themselves into those, delete and block them, and that includes sockpuppets.
People don't know when they're telling on themselves on this, but it's in your interest that you know. Keep poisonous weirdos like this out of your ecosystem.
This is a post about some of the really nasty subtext that keeps surfacing from some quarters of the Arcane fandom, but it's a general thing to keep an eye out for too. They're telling you more than their opinions on the little cartoon people when they say this.
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akawifeyy · 1 day ago
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LOVESICK | smau pt.2 (AKA12)
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description: it's getting harder for you and kimi antonelli to deny your attraction to one another. but even the best-laid plans can go awry.
tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader
face claim: daniela avanzini
trigger warnings: suggestive content, hate speech (misogyny & covert death threats), swearing
| note: ahh this was a crazy smau to write 😞 also this is part 2 / 3 fics!
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@ yourusername: out and about
tagged: @ f1, @ olliebearman, @ kimiantonelli
comments (394):
@ user1: help why did she post a big ass pic of the mercedes team logo? 💀
-> @ user2: Didn't you see she also tagged Kimi? I hate to be nosy, but like... This is getting a little...
@ olliebearman: No picture of me in my Haas is crazy
-> @ yourusername: maybe if you won, i would include it in my posts 💁🏼‍♀️
-> @ user3: DAMN GIRL
@ user4: the nails eattt 👀👀
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@ f1gossip: Rookie Kimi Antonelli has been spotted with best friend Ollie Bearman's twin sister, Y/N! Wonder what the Haas driver thinks of this...
tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ yourusername, @ f1wags
comments (245):
@ user4: this is such an appalling invasion of privacy. what happened to respect and decency?? why are we lwk stalking ppl now??
-> @ user5: HELP it's just one pic? 😭
-> @ user4: imagine if someone was doing this to you. i feel so bad for y/n and kimi 🙁
@ user6: They're soooo cute together omgg
@ user7: sigh, i can't even be jealous. she's literally y/n 😩
Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):
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comments (1984):
@ user8: bruh this is just rage bait, no one knows if she actually was with any other driver 😒
-> @ user9: Yeah Lando has said before that they were just good friends but that Y/N was too young for him
-> @ user10: the fling w paul might be true but it's never been confirmed either 🧐
@ user11: I honestly believe it tbh. She seems like the kinda girl to go around and fuck a ton of guys
-> @ user8: this is so disgusting i might puke 🤮
Instagram conversation between Y/N and a hate account:
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@ yourusername has temporarily deactivated their account. (June 13, 2025)
comments (127):
@ user12: NOOO STAYYY PLS WE NEED YOU 🙏🙏
@ olliebearman: Love you sis, sorry you have to deal with all of this.
@ user6: chat I just failed a chem exam and now I see this? Worst day of my life
Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):
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comments (3329):
@ user14: i hope she comes back. i'll fight every hate bot and troll till she does 🤺
-> @ user1: We'll miss her
-> @ user9: her life is no one's business. I hope she finds peace and solace after all of this because the internet is a cruel place
@ user15: This is what happens when ppl don't realize how lucky they are. Y/N doesn't owe us anything.
-> @ user11: I don't know why everyone cares about this so much, Y/N is another nepo baby who's just popular bc of her face and body 🧍‍♀️
Further excerpt from the Instagram conversation between Y/N and a hate account:
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@ kimiantonelli: So thankful to be P5 in Montreal!
tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes
comments (694):
@ user16: Help he's so dry
-> @ user9: we all know why smh... 😵‍💫
@ olliebearman: Great job!
@ user17: Not seeing Y/N in the comments feels so wronggg
-> @ user18: ikkk i'm so sad 🥲
Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (Three weeks later):
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─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───
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eroaneki · 11 hours ago
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so i'm going to explain this as someone who was 10 when the war in Afghanistan started and 12 when the Iraqi war started, and remembers, very vividly, the general feeling of America during that time.
there is a distinct difference between America prior to 9/11 and America post 9/11. prior to 9/11, America was "free." you could go anywhere without having cameras following you, needing to go through a million security checks at the airport. your loved ones were able to meet you at the gate when you got off of a plane, and you could literally take the bus to any major airport in the country and just hang out all day. you didn't have to have a flight scheduled to be allowed in an airport. it was literally a thing to go down to an airport to have dinner at one of the restaurants there or hang at the bar. basically there wasn't such an obvious "big brother is watching you" type feeling.
when 9/11 happened, America was shaken to its core. we realized, for the first time, that we weren't invulnerable to attacks from foreign entities. 9/11 was the first time America had ever suffered a foreign terrorist attack. there was instant panic. i remember people being pulled out of school the day of. businesses shut down. people pulled money out of their bank accounts. the economy came to a grinding halt so badly that the Federal Reserve dropped interest rates to 0% in order to stimulate people to keep spending money. there was widespread fear that the end of America was coming.
that feeling persisted, and still persists today. Bush, wanting to right the "wrongs" of his father, used these feelings of panic and uncertainty in the American public to drum up support for invading the Middle East. most of the American public agreed with it because they just wanted to feel safe again. they wanted things to go back to the way they were prior to 9/11. Canada, France, the UK, and other world players supported him in this endeavor and sent troops.
Bush ended up invading Afghanistan without Congressional support in October 2001. Congress later agreed to grant him authority to declare war on Iraq when he eventually started touting how they had information about "weapons of mass destruction (aka nukes)" being stashed in Iraq and sought to flush them out. I watched on live TV in December 2003 when they pulled Saddam Hussain out of a dusty hole in the ground and toppled the statue of him in the middle of Bagdhad. Again, I was 12 when this happened.
It became evident after some time that Iraq did not house nukes. Or if they did, they'd been moved somewhere else long before America got to these so-called "facilities" where they were being kept. There were literally no nukes or weapons of mass destruction to be found. Slowly, our allies started to pull out of the war effort, realizing there was no other reason to be there. Because France pulled out, Bush went around trying to rename french fries "freedom fries" as a way to show our displeasure with France's decision.
Because we created a power vacuum by pulling Saddam out of power, we were forced into staying in the Middle East and then tried rebuilding Afghanistan as like a sovereign state. Basically we started fighting ideologies from all over the Middle East, which cost us thousands of American lives unnecessarily and it's been a big point of contention for years now as to whether we had any business going into Afghanistan at all. It also cost thousands of innocent lives throughout the Middle East and completely destabilized the area. It only gave birth to further, more extreme terrorist organizations such as ISIS.
The whole conflict in the Middle East was supported by Americans for the first few years of the war. But as the results and rationale waned, most people wanted out. America likely stayed due to resources, wanting to establish influence, and worst of all, pride. Almost every issue we have right now can be traced back to 9/11 and the fallout after.
But what's even more upsetting is to see what happened after we pulled out of Afghanistan in 2021. After 20 years of literal blood, sweat, and tears trying to prop the country up, Afghanistan crumbled completely in less than 24 hours. 20 years and countless lives lost and forever changed, for nothing. Quite literally nothing other than to serve the ego's of those in power.
And now our generation and every generation after us is saddled with trillions upon trillions of dollars worth of debt from a war that quite literally meant nothing. We cannot afford basic living expenses, rent, education, etc., in large part because of the economic response to this war.
Our futures were all sold because of this war.
I missed most of the Iraq war due to being a baby, but every time I read about it I start wondering why we aren’t all talking about it all of the time
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balladofboothill · 7 hours ago
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Fifth Third
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Joe burrow x wnba player!r
an : we're gonna pretend Cincinnati has a wnba team, Cleveland had one called the rockers a while ago so im just gonna use that
warnings : nothing just a nosy reporter and allusions to sex
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To say everything hurt was an understatement, you had zoned out a while ago, losing track of what your coach was droning on about. Rockers has gotten their first play off win in franchise history but not without you being fouled and shoved over and over again. Being snapped out of your trance when some reporter asked about the bengals jersey you had worn to this game and how it felt to be back in Cincinnati. Fumbling over your own words spitting out an answer of "yeah it feels amazing to be back home and bring this team their first playoff win, I spent 3 of my college years here at this arena so it feels like I never left. And on the jersey, I gotta rep the city's greatest." You say with a dry laugh. "Please let this be over soon." You silently beg what ever god might be listening.
"Private but not a secret" was the best way to describe your relationship with Joe, meeting at Paris fashion week and the rest has been history. When the wnba announced the Cincinnati expansion team you knew that you should go back home, more importantly back to Joe.
After what felt like forever you were finally freed from the press, gathering all your bags and sending a "be home in 20 :)" text to Joe, even though he's 100% asleep on the couch. After a mind numbing drive home you finally reach the road you and Joe live on. Almost feeling the rain shower that was installed last winter for moments like this.
"Joe I'm back." You yell in the entry way flinging all your bags down, that's a later you issue. Suddenly you hear the sound of pans hitting the tile of your kitchen. "It's fineee don't worry." Joe yells back, mentally cursing himself out for ruining his suprise of making a a sheet of your favorite cookies to celebrate the win.
Turning a corner you see every pan you own on the floor and Joe looking like a kicked puppy. "What the hell happened here baby." You pry, "uhhh I was trying you make you those cookies your grandmother always made you post win but the fucking drawer we keep the pans in broke." He mumbled out. He was very confused once you bust out laughing, between heaves he works out "you're so cute" and "this is so sweet but you need supervision in the kitchen"
Pulling him in to a hug and kissing his bright red cheek, "you are the best ever, thank you so much baby." You say grabbing a cookie, Joe let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you tell him "these are so fucking good."
You really needed to shower, the bright orange rocker shirt was stuck to you at this point, spinning around to go to the shower, "aren't you gonna join me? If you wanna congratulate me on this win I have an idea." Teasing Joe always worked in your favor
Please reblog to support writers and I'd love to know your thoughts!!!
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lsunstreakerl · 2 days ago
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using this hellsite for its intended purpose (posting smut on main)
this is technically two ficlets, but I'll be posting the second one later. for now, I gift u all 1.7k words of omegaverse, and it's actually max and esteban, omega/omega (I cannot believe I'm writing these words I am going to hell). hi yes hello mature content here. not violent just horny.
This is not any less embarrassing than Max had expected it to be, standing at Esteban's door at five in the morning. He hadn't even sent a heads up text, he'd just shown up.
He's not even sure if Ocon's in the country.
He hopes he's in the country- Max is kind of fucked otherwise, because then he's just standing in front of the door for nothing, and he's pretty sure this is preheat, but he doesn't fucking know.
His heat crisis at the airport hadn't been sexual at all. His cresting heat in his own flat in Monaco had been brutal, but tame compared to what's to come, and Max doesn't exactly have other omegas to ask.
It's not that he's scared, he just-
Well.
There's footsteps on the other side of the door, and then quiet for a moment- Esteban must be checking to see who it is.
Sure enough, the door swings open a few seconds later.
"Verstappen, what the fuck- oh shit."
Esteban smells good, is one of the things Max notes as he's being dragging inside, door shut behind him. He has a big fluffy nest on the floor of his living room, and there's an action movie paused on the screen, and-
Max is pretty sure he's talking to him.
"-aaaaaax. Hey, earth to Verstappen-"
Max blinks rapidly, and then he tips forward and buries his nose in Esteban's neck, pressed right against his scent gland.
"Ah!"
Esteban yanks him back by the collar of his shirt, and Max whines, because he smelled good and he wants more, and it's making him feel better being next to it.
"Why did you do this. Why the fuck- why did you come to me, how long have you even been an omega, what the fuck-"
Max feels a whine building in his chest, because that's a thing omegas do, and he's rapidly realizing he's going to need to get comfortable with a lot of uncomfortable things about his designation soon.
"Christ, okay- okay, come on."
Esteban is leading him into the living room, and Max hopes they're going to the nest, because Esteban's looks so good, better than anything Max has ever been able to build.
Esteban bats at his hands, gently nudging the side of Max's foot.
"Shoes, please."
Max toes them off, and then Esteban tugs him down into the nest, and it's so soft, soft and perfect, and Esteban's got this omega thing on lock.
Max immediately shifts towards Esteban, because he wants snuggles, wants the warm heat of someone else, and Esteban's scent is so nice, even if he smells concerned and bewildered at the moment.
"Right, preheat, okay. Maybe the Dutch do it differently."
Max almost wants to laugh. He has no idea how Dutch omegas nest or heat. He's never been allowed near other omegas.
Esteban sighs, and there's a begrudging type of fondness in his eyes for a moment.
"I'm doing this because I'm a good person, Max, so remember that next time you want to shove me, yes? Good. Come on, shirt off."
Esteban tugs his own shirt over his head, and Max's brain isn't quite moving at its normal pace, but he's compliant as Esteban bats at his hands, pulling Max's shirt off over his arms and shoulders before tossing it to the side somewhere.
Max just wants to snuggle.
Esteban pulls him in, letting Max settle his nose right above his scent gland, chest to chest in the nest as he pulls a blanket over them.
"You have no idea what you're doing."
Max makes a weak whimper, distracted by pressing his nose in until his brain is just a looping mantra of Esteban, Esteban, Esteban-
"Right."
Esteban kicks up a purr, and Max melts on top of him, loose muscles and head fuzzy. His throat hitches, but he can't quite make it go- still doesn't know how.
There's a nose in Max's hair, and one of Esteban's hands comes up by his neck, long fingers running down the side.
Max feels like there's a weighted blanket on his brain, making everything slow and syrupy.
He loses track of time- he's pretty sure Esteban starts his movie back up, based on the explosion noises.
Max barely even registers that he's softly grinding his hips over Esteban's thigh, only notices because Esteban's scent sweetens under his nose, and his purr gets louder.
"Max."
It's gentle, and Max makes a responding hum. His eyes are half open, not really seeing anything.
"Max, you are supposed to heat partner with an alpha."
Duh. Max would've done that, if he was out and trusted any of the alphas to handle him right- his first choice was Daniel, but he's out of the country with Scotty, and Max didn't want to interrupt their trip.
He can't exactly go to Seb.
Asking any of the garage members violates probably a million FIA policies and also the law in a few countries. Lando and George are omegas, but they're new and Max doesn't know either of them, which leaves him with Esteban. He'd shown up on a whim, even though he isn't part of the pack, because he knows he can't handle it alone.
An older, more experienced omega was the logical choice.
He doesn't realize he's whining until Esteban noses at his hair, scent wrapping around him.
"Okay, you don't have to tell me- it is okay, Max. I will help you."
Esteban hitches his thigh up and Max gasps, lightning bolts going through him at the change in angle. Long fingers run down the side of his neck before pressing down on his scent gland, and Max ruts forward, nose back in Esteban's neck. It feels good, and it smells good, and if things could stay slow and hot and nice just like this, Max might be okay with heats.
Esteban breaks that fantasy.
"Go on Max, get a good one in before your heat really hits."
Max whines softly, and Esteban sighs, hand slipping down Max's spine to settle on his lower back, helping him with the drag and slide of it all, the push-pull. Max's brain is liquid, a soft loop of sensation and feeling good.
It's not a rough orgasm by any means- it's gentle compared to others Max has had, washes through him in a way that's slow and overwhelming, leaves him collapsed against Esteban's chest, slick cooling between his thighs.
Esteban noses at him again- he's scenting him, gently pushing the side of their heads together. Max hasn't been scented by a member of the pack before- Daniel scented him regularly before he left, and Nico had done it frequently as well, but they're both gone now, and it's been a minute since anyone outside of Redbull bothered.
"You are okay with fingers? Toys? Mouth?"
Max's hips jerk again at the thought, face heating up. He nods against Esteban's neck, keeping his face hidden.
"Okay. Max, I am not set up for a heat at the moment- I need my alpha to come by with groceries, is that going to be alright?"
Esteban has an alpha? That can't be right- Max has his nose on top of Esteban's scent gland right now, there's definitely no mark here.
He noses at it pointedly, enjoying the spike is Esteban's scent at the sensation, his soft gasp.
"Don't be archaic Verstappen. I can have an alpha without having a bite. I have two, thank you very much."
Okay- Max knows the alphas of the pack significantly outnumber the omegas, but two is just greedy. His scent must change, because Esteban snorts.
"I didn't think you wanted Pierre or Charles, but if you want to share for your heat we can do that."
Max pauses for a moment. He's... actually not sure. He hasn't been with an alpha before, but if Esteban is here- if they listen to him-
Max isn't stupid. He knows his first proper heat is going to be bad, that's his consequence for being on suppressants for so long. Toys aren't going to cut it. They'll keep him from Red Heating, sure, but that's about where that ends.
He's going to be begging Esteban for something he can't give him.
Pierre isn't terrible. He's not close with the rest of the garage, and Max is pretty sure he's somehow managed to entirely miss the memo that Max is the pack omega- probably hasn't picked up on Redbull being a pack at all.
In his defense, there hasn't been a garage pack on the grid since before Max was born.
Charles- Max isn't sure how desperate a heat is going to make him, but if he ends up begging Charles to fuck him he's going to jump out the window when it's over.
Weird cresting heat induced insanity aside, Max has not once wanted anything to do with Charles. He's annoying and entitled, and Max still doesn't believe that he's actually an alpha.
He seems like the kind of guy to want to be a gentleman to an omega, which-
Charles has not once ever been gentle to Max, it's practically the foundation of their relationship, and Max isn't sure if he's going to want kindness and consideration for his heat.
He's not freaking out about it, he just-
He doesn't know.
He's whining into Esteban's neck again, a slow need starting to build deep inside of him. He wants them, he doesn't want them, he cares, he doesn't care- everything is so difficult.
Esteban rattles out another purr, scent heavy in the room. Max settles, nose full of fresh snow and eucalyptus.
He nods his head, a tiny shift, and Esteban's scent takes on a pleased note, sweet and satisfied.
"They will be good, I promise. I'll kick them out if they aren't."
Max is fairly confident that's not how that works, but maybe the French are different. Esteban slides one hand to tap at his phone as the other shifts from Max's back to the front of his hips.
"Okay?"
Max nods, and he's sure his own scent is all over the place, canting his hips up for Esteban to slide his hand down under his waistband, long fingers cool against his overheated skin.
His scent spikes again and Esteban purrs, nosing gently at him.
"It's okay, Max. It's alright, you're okay."
Everything is-
It's a lot.
Max is whining, a soft noise as Esteban works his fingers inside of him, and they're so different from Max's, feel alien inside him, but they feel good too, and Max-
Max wants to be good, wants to show Esteban that he knows how to be an omega, a good omega, even if the pack doesn't want him.
He knows it's not his strongest area- he's poured all his time and effort into racing, doesn't know what to do with himself outside of it, but this- Esteban's fingers inside him, Max's nose pressed into his neck, a slow build- this feels good. It feels right.
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spencewalterreid · 3 days ago
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Family Tree (Intro)
part 1. part 2.
Summary: Deeply religious 6-year-old Ethel Cain grapples with her turbulent home life with the help of her best friend, Spencer Reid.
Pairing: Spencer Reid / Ethel Cain (p, young age)
Category: Angst, hurt/comfort. Some fluff.
Warnings: brief sexual scene but not exactly smut, cigarettes. Please see master list for overall warnings for the whole series.
Word Count: 4.5k
Author's Note: Those of you that have been paying attention to my recent posts know I'm starting a new series: Preacher's Daughter. Essentially, a chronological account of Ethel Cain's life, with the addition of best friend Spencer Reid. First couple chapters are going to be strictly from Ethel's point of view, but once we get to Western Nights, it'll start flipping between Ethel's POV and Spencer's POV, which will be trying to solve the case of the adrenaline-fueled murders of Willoughby and Ethel as they traverse the west coast. I understand this probably won't be as popular as the Spencer-centered fics, but I hope you guys stay with me!! This was really fun to write and I have a feeling it will only get moreso <3 Please let me know what you think!! Leave as much feedback and as many suggestions as you please, they really help me out. Feedback from you guys is what keeps me going. With all that being said, enjoy the first chapter!
July 8, 1972
It gets hot in Alabama. Blistering, really. Ethel writhed in the grass, trying to find a spot that was still cool, damp from the morning dew. She’s lying under an oak tree in the yard in front of her father’s farm house, mud pressing itself into her white sundress. She’s drenched in sweat, which she thinks might be contributing to the ever-increasing dirt patch under her. The grass tickles the backs of her shoulders as she turns on her side toward the boy beside her, folding her hands under her head.
Spencer had been her best friend since she could remember. She met him when she was two, her mother would tell her. Back then, his hair was always combed back, the curls politely laying into one another. Now, eyes closed and a faint smile on his lips, his hair was wild, brown chunks across his forehead and the ground behind him. His arms were out next to him, fingers splayed against the soft greenery. He’s gotta be hot in that, she thinks, observing his short-sleeved button-up shirt and long, tan pants.
Hearing the shuffle of the grass, Spencer turns toward his companion and attempts to open his eyes, but quickly squeezes them shut again to shade himself from the sunlight with his left arm, then cautiously tries again. He succeeds, gaze landing on the gaunt girl.
“What are you thinking about?” Ethel asks, voice soft.
Spencer shuffles back into his previous position for the most part, but leaves an arm across the upper half of his face. “I dunno,” he sighs. “I’m thinking I don’t wanna get up tomorrow morning.”
Ethel frowns. “What do you mean? We have to. Church is tomorrow.”
“I know that,” he groans. “But I have school on Monday, and it sucks to cut the weekend short,” Spencer replies. “Just because you get to sleep in every day…”
“I don’t sleep in,” she counters with a pout, admiring the soft slope of his chin and the bristle of his shirt in the passive breeze. “Daddy gets me up every morning no later than 8.”
“I have to get up at 6,” he whines, “and my mom never wakes me up in the mornings.”
“That’s because she’s got the devil in her,” Ethel whispers solemnly. “His voice keeps her up at night, so it’s hard for her to wake up.”
Spencer turns over completely this time, still shielding himself with his hand, but looks hard at Ethel. He fights the urge to roll off of his shoulder which is now digging into the hard ground. “I wish you’d quit saying that.”
“Daddy says she’s got the devil in her,” Ethel repeats reasonably, nodding to herself. “It isn’t her fault, Spence, Lucifer can tempt anybody.” She reaches a hand out to touch his shoulder. “It’s okay,” she smiles. “I’ll keep praying for her, and-”
“Ethel!”
She snaps upward and Spencer quickly follows suit, catching sight of her father looming at the end of the porch, frightening and large, thick arms folded across his chest. “You have no right to be touching my daughter like that, boy,” he shouts, stomping down the steps and crossing the yard to the tree. Spencer scrambles up to his feet, glancing back at Ethel for a moment before her father’s firm hand is covering Spencer’s small bicep.
“He didn’t do anything, Daddy!” Ethel cries, standing up as well to try to pull Spencer back.
“It’s okay, E, I’ll-”
Her father shoves a hand against her chest, knocking her to the ground. “You mind your business, child, I’ll deal with you shortly,” he spits, glaring down at her before dragging Spencer behind him, across the street to his house.
***
July 9, 1972
The church is packed like a can of sardines. In a town like this one, everyone goes to church. It’s non-negotiable. Ethel sits in the second row back, twisting in her seat to try to get a look behind her. Spencer isn’t here yet. On any other day, Spencer would attend with the Cain family, but given her father’s impressive ability to hold a grudge, it didn’t surprise her when he failed to offer this morning. It’s 9:32, two minutes past the time Pastor Dan would start service.
“Quit ‘yer squirming,” Dad demands, a tight hand on her shoulder to pull her back down to her seat.
“Spencer is late,” she whispers, talking to herself more than her father.
Dad screws up his face in disgust, scoffing. “Don’t you worry yourself about that heathen. He’s where he belongs, with his filthy mother.”
“Please don’t talk about him like that,” she frowns. “He’s nice.”
“He’s a sinner,” Dad growls, “Now hush.”
Ethel folds her hands in her lap, defeated. Undoubtedly, she’s worried about her friend. She didn’t see him after his front door slammed behind him and her father yesterday afternoon. She assumes his mother was probably asleep, she usually was these days. Spencer said she hasn't been feeling well recently, but if she’s honest, Ethel can’t remember a time where his mother was feeling anything but lousy. She barely hears the words leaving the pastor’s mouth until her father pinches her harshly on the arm. 
“Pay. Attention.”
She bites her lip and tries to listen.
“It is our duty as God’s children to take in those who need to hear the Word. Those who put themselves above the Lord, those who lie, those who cheat, those who commit adultery. Those who do not repent for their sins shall surely perish, Amen?”
A chorus of agreement amongst the crowd rings out. Ethel worries her bottom lip. Her father shoots her a pointed look, but says nothing.
“Romans 6:23,” he begins, spreading a bible across the podium in front of him. There’s an opaque rustling up and down the aisles of parishioners hunting for the verse. “‘For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ God expects us to sin, for we are all imperfect; however, when you admit this in the face of our Lord, you shall surely be forgiven. Amen?”
Again, a mindless repetition of the word. Ethel has never liked that part of church. Every Sunday, the same speech more or less, and she doubts anyone in the room thinks twice about it aside from herself. She doubts anyone in the room disagrees with anything he’s ever said. Like last week, when the sermon denounced all who lie, even when it is to save themselves. She recounts all the lies she’s told, or at least tries to.  There are far too many to catalogue, even if she wrote them down each time. When Spencer threw a rock at her window a few weeks ago, scratching a nick into it when he tried to get her attention after her father kicked him out. She’d blamed it on a falling branch. Or when his mother called that morning, demanding he be sent home immediately, though he was at school at the time. Ethel insisted his mother was overseas and got confused about the time zones. When her father asked why his mother would need him home if that were the case, she didn’t have a good answer. She wore long sleeves for a long time after that, and that was the second time one of her sisters let her use makeup. When her father asked where the bruises had gone, another lie: you hadn’t left any in the first place.
Ethel is pulled out of her thoughts when the entire room falls silent at the creak of the door. She whips around in her seat, ignoring her father’s warning hand on her thigh. She grins when she sees her friend, but her face falls pretty quick after that. He’s wearing a sweater, and she’s worried about his warmth even if it is his Sunday best. He catches sight of her and tries to yank a smile onto his quickly-reddening cheeks, but fails miserably. He tugs his sleeves further down his hands.
Spencer is a small boy as it is, but he looks downright tiny swallowed up in his second-hand clothes. His oxford shoes pad dully against the old, scratchy carpet as he travels up the aisles. He sits in the pew behind Ethel, next to a stately old woman who immediately recoils and scoots as far away from him as she can. Ethel smiles at his proximity, and he offers a shy wave.
The pastor remains silent for another few seconds for emphasis before continuing. “You know, in all my years of preaching, there’s one thing I’ve noticed,” he says, closing his bible and leaning his elbows against the podium, left ankle crossed atop the right. “Those who do not attend church regularly are often the ones with something to hide.”
Spencer feels so hot he may catch on fire at any moment.
“I’ve seen people – heathens,” he looks at Spencer, then away just as quickly, “--show their face in the house of God knowing damn well that they are representing the Devil. Do you know what happens to those… individuals?” he continues haltingly, as if it were a tall order for him to refer to Ethel’s friend as a human being. Her stomach twists at the thought. “God strikes them down.” He opens his bible again, rifling through it. “Psalm 28:3: ‘Do not take me away with the wicked and with workers of iniquity, who speak peace to their neighbors, but evil is in their hearts.’” He slams it shut. “That means,” he presses on, and now Ethel thinks he’s purposely looking anywhere but their direction, “that those who lie to God’s children and worship their own false deity in private are not to be considered one of us. The Serpent is cunning, and will try to convince you his cause is just; do not be fooled. These… these creatures… will say anything to make you believe they are of God. Do not believe their lies.”
Ethel glances back toward Spencer, a look of apology in her eyes. Her father pops her in the back of the head. “Eyes forward,” he hisses. She obliges. Spencer sinks further into his pew, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. 
***
The fresh breeze blowing through the valley the church house resides in isn’t as refreshing as Ethel hoped it would be as she shuffles out the door, accompanied by the other youths, the adults trailing a bit behind. As much as her father would abhor it, he can’t see her in the throng of people, and her hand finds Spencer’s as she falls into step next to him.
“Hey,” she whispers, squeezing encouragingly. He chances a glance at her.
“Hey back.” He looks sad. She tilts her head.
“What happened yesterday?” Ethel looks behind her subtly to make sure no one’s paying attention. She concludes they’re in the clear. 
Spencer kicks a rock out of his way and lets go of Ethel’s hand, opting to shove his own into his pockets. “I’m just glad Mom wasn’t roused enough to hear it,” he says.
“I’m sorry.” She tilts her head down and forward to try to catch his eye under his thick curtain of hair, and notices for the first time a red-blue splotch of colour next to his nose. “I didn’t know he’d do that to you.”
“Really? You didn’t see that coming at all?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’ve seen what he does to you. It was only a matter of time.”
Ethel sighs, pulling Spencer out of the crowd and to the side of the building, hidden by the shrubbery. “Daddy is nice to me,” she insists, a trying expression on her face. “He loves me.”
“I don’t believe you,” he replies, squinting his eyes. “Your dad loves you just about as much as God loves me.”
She doesn’t quite know what he means by that, so instead of saying anything actually reassuring, she says, “God loves you. He loves all of his children.”
Tears well up in Spencer’s eyes. He crosses his arms and slumps against the dirty panels on the side of the church. “Why, then? Why is he keeping my mom sick, why does he let your dad be mean to you?” He yanks his arms out of the position they were in, in favour of digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, roughly shaking the tears loose.
Sometimes words were futile, Ethel realizes, even if she hadn’t learned how to describe that to herself yet. Making the best choice she could think of, she takes a step forward and gathers her friend into her short arms. “I’ll pray for you,” she says into his ear. Spencer hesitates before placing his hands gingerly onto her back. He nods, even though he knows her prayers are redundant. If he’s a heathen, God probably wouldn’t even take a second glance at Ethel. No one who associates with someone like him is worth God’s time, probably.
“Thank you,” he says anyway. Sometimes you just need to let people think they believe in something. Even if they’re lying. Spencer has learned it makes people feel better to lie, they find it comforting, even if he hasn’t learned why yet.
***
December 13th, 1972
Ethel squints at the mirror, cross-legged on the carpet of her bedroom floor. She studies the red on her lips, garish if she’s honest, and tries to convince herself it makes her look pretty. She tilts her head this way and that, and considers if a different shirt might compliment it more.
At the sound of a knock on her door, she just about jumps out of her skin. “Um- Hang on!” she shouts, rubbing the back of her hand against her mouth to remove the lipstick. The door opens. “I said-” she looks up and sees her big sister, Joanna. “Oh.”
Joanna grins, pearly white teeth matching perfectly with her long, wavy blonde hair. Ethel always admired, maybe envied, her sisters. They were all beautiful. Slim, but not skinny like Ethel. They always looked happy, their joy contagious in its exuberance. They were kind, godly girls. All three of them. Joanna was the oldest, 19. She presses the door shut behind her.
“Oh, honey,” she coos, kneeling down on the carpet next to Ethel. “You can’t just wipe off red lipstick.” She gets on her hands and knees to lean past her little sister and pick up a box of Kleenex, pulling a couple tissues out before setting it down again. She wets it with her saliva. “Tighten your mouth,” she instructs, pulling her lips taut against her teeth. “Like this.”
Ethel complies, and Joanna sets to work pulling the pigment away from her skin as best as she can. “You really shouldn’t be using my makeup, you know,” Joanna chides. “If Dad saw this-”
“Please don’t tell Dad!” Ethel pulls away to sqeak, putting her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, I won’t-”
Joanna puts a soothing hand on Ethel’s shoulder. “Hush. I’m not gonna tell Dad.”
Cautiously, Ethel returns to her previous position and her sister continues her work.
“All I’m saying, you could get yourself into a lot of trouble. You have a knack for that lately.” Satisfied with the result, or at least as satisfied as she was gonna get, Joanna crumples up the Kleenex tissues and conceals them between her palms. “You’re very pretty just as you are, you know that?” she leans in just a bit, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Very pretty.”
Ethel giggles. “Not as pretty as you,” she replies, dragging out the last vowel. Joanna smiles that perfect smile yet again, ruffling Ethel’s hair.
“I’m going to the store, do you want to come with me? I’m gonna get some ice cream,” she says with a wink. In a hurry, Ethel scrambles onto her feet, eager to get out of the house.
Passing through the living room, they’re stopped by the news on the TV.
“Earlier this evening, Dan Sanderson was found hanging in the front yard of his Nebraska home. The Sanderson family is not disclosing-”
The TV is shut off before it can continue. Ethel glances at the couch to investigate the loss, and notices her father for the first time since leaving her room. “Daddy?” she inquires, tears filling her eyes. “Isn’t that-”
“Pastor Dan,” Joanna interrupts, reaching for Ethel’s hand. “Oh, my God,” she gasps, pressing her free hand to her mouth.
Ethel sniffles, a hiccup bubbling in her throat. Dad exhales sharply, rubbing his face. “Church should be interesting,” he comments with a chuckle, before bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips. “Where are you girls going?”
“The store,” Joanna replies, voice distant and distracted.
“Leave Ethel here.”
The two glance at one another from behind the couch. Their father still hasn’t even bothered to spare them a well-meaning look.
“But-”
“No. I’m not asking. Be back in 20 minutes, Jo,” Dad demands, and knowing better than to argue, the older girl concedes.
“Yes, sir,” she sighs, letting go of Ethel’s hand. She leans down to kiss her younger sister’s head. “I’ll be back soon with some chocolate chip, okay?” Joanna asks, fingertips against Ethel’s cheek.
“Okay,” she nods.
Ethel stays put until a few moments after the door clicks shut, processing the death of the pastor. She’s never known anyone who was dead before.
Dad looks at her for the first time today, sitting up and poking his head over the couch. “Come here, darlin’.”
She crosses the room with tiny, shuffling steps, coming to stand next to the soft leather sofa. Dad takes her wrist, not unkindly, and pulls her toward him, and she has to get onto the furniture to comfortably follow his tugging. He nestles her under his arm, fingertips rolling the hem of her dress distractedly as he unpauses the TV.
“Do you want to watch cartoons?” he offers, knuckles against her lower thigh, just above her knee.
Ethel doesn’t reply, eyes glued to her father’s heavy, broad hand on her dress. 
“I asked you a question.”
“Okay,” she says, for the second time in the last two minutes.
Satisfied, Dad lays his head back against the arm of the couch, and Ethel nestles herself into his side. They stay like that for a while, bold two-dimensional colours casting an uncomfortably blue glow over the room. Joanna comes home unceremoniously, puts the ice cream in the freezer, and trudges back to her bedroom. Ethel assumes the other two are probably also in their bedrooms. She realizes she hasn’t even spoken to them in a couple of days. They’ve been distant lately.
“Daddy?”
“Hm?”
When she looks up, she sees his eyes are closed and at some point, he’d finished his glass of whiskey; it’s sitting empty on the side table.
“Can I go see Spencer?”
Suffice it to say, Ethel does not leave her bedroom for the rest of the evening and the better half of the next day.
***
December 17, 1972
Dad took over for Pastor Dan the very Sunday after his death. Ethel wondered if they’d take a week off to mourn, but honestly, she should have known better. It was silly, in retrospect.
Her sisters actually happened to like Spencer, which was very lucky for Ethel. That meant while Dad was in front of the congregation, she got to sit next to her friend. They walked together today, a nice change of pace from driving with Dad. The only reason Dad let them go together was the promise that Joanna, Hope, and Allison would go with her. They were considerate enough to walk a good distance behind Ethel and Spencer.
The sermon made Ethel sick. The look on her father’s face as he talked about a father’s duties was… personal. He watched her and her sisters for most of it. She sank under his unforgiving stare as he spoke about protecting your brood, about keeping them close, and keeping them pure. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she liked that it made Spencer hold her hand.
***
March 23, 1980
“Aren’t you- worried- your dad- will come in?” the boy asks between presses of Ethel’s lips to his. She isn’t sure of his name (William? He said Will, she thinks?), and she’s less sure she cares.
Ethel shakes her head. “No,” she mumbles, hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders, knees on either side of his hips. “He’s out cold.”
She slides her grip down his biceps, then to his waist, and pulls the hem of his shirt up his abdomen. He obediently lifts his arms to allow her to yank it over his head, then makes quick work of removing her own top. 
For a moment, she has the instinct to cover up. One of her biggest insecurities (aside from the evil, ungodly thoughts in her head) is how skinny she is. She’s all leg, skin and bone from head to toe. She tries to eat more, really she does, but she’s nauseous so often that it’s hard to keep it down. She wonders fleetingly why Dad hasn’t said anything about her continuously dwindling figure.
Her spiral is interrupted when the boy groans, going to grope her chest. He drags his thumb across a stick-n-poke tattoo, a cross just below her collarbone. Ethel’s stomach lurches, sending a rush to her head. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be doing this. This is a sin. I can’t take this back. God will know I’m not a virgin. He’ll know I’m not pure anymore. What if Daddy can tell? What if he doesn’t love me anymore? What if he stops-
She groans when he rocks his hips into her, making his erection very apparent. In that moment, she really could not give a damn about her father – for that matter, either of her fathers.
***
March 29, 1980
“You sure you don’t want a puff?” Ethel offers, cigarette dangling from between her index and middle fingers. Spencer shakes his head, which is currently resting on his interlocked fingers, elbows bent out to the sides as he stares at the night sky.
She finally got Spencer to come over again for the first time in a long time, considering the last visit ended with Dad damn near strangling him in an alcohol-fueled stupor (which is becoming more and more common), insisting he “had the devil in him”. 
“Suit yourself,” Ethel shrugs and takes another drag. “Do you ever think about having sex?” she asks bluntly, snuffing out the cigarette on a shingle and turning her head toward Spencer. He chokes on a breath, sitting up slightly to get a better look at her.
“What?”
“Don’t what me. Don’t act like you haven’t considered it,” she says, sitting up on her elbows. “I mean, seriously, Spence. Have you even had your first kiss?”
He deflects expertly. “Have you?”
Ethel holds a puff of air in her cheeks then blows it out sharply, laying back down and interlocking her fingers over her stomach. She considers telling him. For the last week, she hasn’t stopped thinking about her night with that boy. It felt nice to finally go all the way, felt nice to not walk away from a sexual encounter feeling positively filthy. To be able to call the shots for once, not worry about the stakes of your performance quality. Ultimately, she decides against it. “How’s college?” she asks bitterly.
“No, E, what were you gonna say?” Spencer sits up completely, crossing his ankles under his shins.
“Spence, drop it, please?” Her voice is soft, almost scared. It sounds like a prayer, breathy and secretive, like if she said it too loud, the request was sure not to be granted.
“What happened?” he matches her tone, sweet and calm, just as he always has been. Ethel thinks she’s never heard him raise his voice before, even minimally.
“I snuck a boy in,” she replies before she can stop herself. “We, uh. We did it.”
She wanted to use the word. The dirty one. She wanted to use the word she couldn’t use while that boy was inside her, no matter how hard he tried to get her to. She wanted to swear, really she did, but she couldn’t. Funny, the lines a 16-year-old-girl draws.
“How do you feel?” Spencer picks up her hand, toying with the couple of rings on her fingers.
“A little chilly, and the roof isn’t very comfy,” she replies, wiggling to emphasize her point, but careful to keep her hand in his grip.
Spencer glares. “You know what I meant.”
Ethel sighs, deep in her chest. “I don’t know,” she replies. “I mean, I liked it. It felt good. I just…”
“You can’t stop thinking about him,” Spencer adds delicately, not managing to meet his friend’s eye.
“Yeah.” Ethel swallows thickly, dragging her fingertips of the hand Spencer has held captive against his palm.
Spencer shifts a bit to get closer and adjust his grip, commencing a massage on the back of her hand. “I’m always here with you. If it gets to be too much…”
“I know,” she whispers, voice cracking. She drops her chin to her chest. “Thanks.”
Ethel lets Spencer keep her hand but lays back against the roof, closing her eyes with a sigh at his nimble fingers working the muscles.
“He was pretty, you know? Real pretty. Sharp,” she says, and she imagines the pinched expression on Spencer’s face; eyebrows knit tightly, lips pursed. “I like him a lot, Spence. I think I could fall in love with him,” she continues with a dazed smile.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he says. “For that matter, you shouldn’t have even been having sex before you got married. It’ll be hard to go to confession when the preacher is your father.”
She knew he wasn’t judging her. It wasn’t unkind, the way he spoke to her. She’s grateful for that.
“I know,” she mutters, smile falling. “I just…” She opens her eyes to find Spencer watching her carefully with exactly the expression she expected. “I wanted to believe someone could find me beautiful.”
“I find you beautiful.”
She could cry at the sincerity, and almost does. She swallows the lump in her throat.
“Yeah, but not beautiful enough to make love to me, right?” Ethel scoffs, shaking her head.
Spencer stops his ministrations on her hand, laying it gently on his knee, still carefully clasped in his own. “Maybe,” he whispers, eyes downcast. Ethel perks up at this, sitting up and leaning on her elbows.
“Really? I mean, maybe I should just strip now,” she says with a grin. Spencer returns it.
Ethel lays back down, a giggle bubbling up in her throat. Spencer remains quiet and lets the smirk play against his mouth for a while.
“Are you getting cold?” he asks, rolling his shoulders.
“A little. Sleepy, for sure.”
Spencer stands up and pulls Ethel with him. Before ducking back in through the window, he stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Be careful with that boy, okay? Take it slow, keep your eggs in different baskets.”
Ethel rolls her eyes. “Screw off, virgin.”
Spencer goes home that night with a flurry in his stomach and an uncomfortable tension in his pants.
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