#The maternity leave jokes is the best joke of the story

[lescarbille]

(Small gift because I fell behind on the correction, it's coming very very soon)

“Did you take maternity leave?”, Alex asks before bursting out laughing. “You know it’s for pregnant women Georgie. Have you been hiding something from us all this time? Am I going to be Uncle Alex ?” “Here’s the kid.”, he points to Lando. “You can be his uncle.” “Hello Uncle Alex. I'm Lan-Lan.”, Lando greets with a childish voice. “He doesn’t look like you at all.”, Alex comments hilariously. “He looks a bit dumb.”

-Excerpt from Is it Over Now (chapter 11)

[luveline]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

when internet trolls poke fun at your appearance while working on a case, hotch is there to make you feel better. fem!reader, 3k

tw cyberbullying, poor eating habits, criminal minds typical violence

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You're not a media liaison or anything close, but with JJ off for maternity leave and Penelope in Quantico, there's a face needed for the press announcement on TV, and you offer to step in. 

You aren't particularly eager to do it, but Hotch doesn't have the time or wherewithal and such a high intensity case, not while Spencer is at half-mast, migraines rendering him ineffective and stubborn. You're trying to keep the ship sailing smoothly, doing your part of the profiling while juggling media and supporting the police sergeant that's heading the tip line.

You're not expecting to become a joke. After a red-eye, three sleepless nights trying to find a missing woman in Oklahoma —the domestic violence capital— and a full day without something to eat, you're aware you don't look your best, but you aren't sure what that has to do with your missing person. 

The FBI — fugly bitches International. #FindDanaLangley

Damn, are they not letting those agents sleep or what? She looks terrible ! 

she should be less worried about Dana Langley and more concerned with the dead woman in the mirror, ew 

hope theu find her just so they stop putting this creature on TV #FindDanaLangley

"Well," you murmur, wondering if it would be inappropriate to burst into tears, "these aren't especially helpful." 

Derek looks at you, his gaze measured, and you know he's not sure how to react to you or what's happening. He settles on his usual loving encouragement, because he's a very good friend. 

"Don't listen to all that," he says, throwing his arm around your shoulder, "those trolls wouldn't know beautiful if it hit them in the face. But we could always try it?" 

You sink into his hold, needing the reassurance even if you wish you didn't. "No hitting," you say, covering your mouth to hide a large and possibly fugly yawn. Your head is racing with regurgitated insults. "It doesn't matter, Derek. Promise. We have bigger stuff to deal with." 

The door opens and Hotch and Emily step inside, Rossi just behind them. You're thinking Hotch is going to agree with your sentiment, no time for comfort when a woman's life is at stake, so you move away from Morgan to sit in front of your laptop again. 

"Is something wrong?" Hotch asks. 

You meet his eyes just long enough to smile at him. "Nothing. What did Amandla have to say?" 

Emily retells the alibi of Dana's ex-girlfriend and is clearly suspicious but without proof, you're forced as a team to move on to the next lead. Spencer returns shortly afterward and you try to brainstorm your next step. 

It's Penelope that pulls through. "You asked me to cross reference the neighbours at Dana's previous address with people crossing state lines, right, after that one guy ended up being kinda icky? Well I did that, and nothing came up, which was–" 

"Garcia," Hotch interrupts. 

"Right. Long story short, one of the neighbours recently had an extreme falling out with Icky Guy after a years long friendship, his name is Justin Mantova, he has extreme PTSD with documented episodes of confused aggression, and he's been seen coming in and out of a storage unit in Paseo Storage Solutions for the past four days." 

"Address?" Hotch asks. 

"Already sent to your phones." 

"Thank you, Pen," you say. 

"Just go catch the bad guy, pretty girl," she says. 

Ah, so she's seen the tweets too. You frown rather than smile, reminded again of what's been said and wishing you could be anywhere else. 

You get your wish and forget all about personal grievances for a while, concerned with the safe location and extraction of Dana Langley. The operation is clean, and she's hurt but has a great chance at a full recovery. It's quick, it's professional. 

You're falling asleep in the SUV on the way back. Hotch at the wheel, Spencer in the backseat, you rub your eyes from the passenger side and try not to look suspiciously morose, but it's impossible. Hotch is too good at his job. 

"Are you sure everything's okay?" he asks. With Spencer's window open and the wind whipping, it's hard to hear him. 

"Hm?" 

"Is everything okay?" 

"I'm just tired." You don't look at him. It's rude of you, but if what they've said is true —you'd seen the photographs, and you looked tired, sure, but you still looked like you. "Just tired," you say again. You snap your mouth closed when your voice wobbles. 

Hotch is regularly too sweet on you. Most of the team say it's a crush. Emily calls it 'character development. Whatever it is, he's nice to you. He warmed up to you near immediately when you first joined the team, and he's been as welcoming months later as he was in your first week. 

Maybe he feels sorry for me, you think, submerging yourself inch by inch into self pity. 

The three of you regroup with the others at the police station to pen immediate recounts of what happened before you can forget, tying up loose ends. 

Finally you're able to go back to the hotel. Another half an hour and you're in the lobby.

"We'll go home in the morning. Nine AM flight, meet in the lobby at eight thirty," Hotch says. "Get some rest." 

You disband. They've squeezed you in all over the place, and you're lucky enough to be next to the elevator on the second floor. Hotch is the third floor, and everyone else the sixth, so you say goodbye to your colleagues and exit the elevator, stepping onto the second floor with a parting smile.

You can't know it, but Hotch notices the way your smile falls before the doors have well and truly closed. Your shoulders slump in defeat. 

You trudge into your room and don't bother turning on the lights. The door closes behind you and the mask you'd been holding up starts to crack. You put your laptop in the closet despite temptation to boot it up, knowing no good can come of looking at the tip hashtag again. 

You head into the bathroom to pee, and you're confronted with your appearance as you wash your hands. 

You stare at yourself. 

You look tired. 

Tears well as you look at yourself. You're not those things those people said. You're pretty, and when you smile everyone knows it. There's nothing so beautiful as a smile. You can't summon one, but you know it's the truth. 

Or, it should be. 

A single tear falls down your cheek, quickly followed by a second, and a third from the other eye. You ignore them, tracing the line of your bottom lip, the texture of your skin on your cheeks, the slight sunken effect of your under eyes. 

A knock makes you flinch. "Fuck," you say, wiping your cheek with the back of a hand, twisting on the spot like looking into your room might reveal whoever it is at the door. Probably one of your team. "Hello?" you call. 

"It's me. It's Hotch. I know it's after hours, but I wanted to speak with you."

Whatever reassurance he has to give might actually make this all much worse. You don't want any pity from anybody, you just want today to be over. Still, you wiggle your toes into the plush hotel carpeting, debating only for a moment about the pros and cons of pretending to be asleep. 

"Hey," you say, opening the door. You wipe your eyes and hope he takes it for a tired gesture rather than a method of hiding the glassy sheen at your waterline. "Hi, Hotch, how are you feeling?" 

"Fine. Tired. Thank you for asking." 

"Do you want to come in?" you ask. 

"Please." 

Hotch follows you into your room. There's an armchair across from the bed next to a desk and an old TV sitting atop it. Your suitcase is still open on your bed, your pyjamas crumpled in the shell. You close it before Hotch can see. That's another thing to add to your list: being a slob. 

"It's very clean in here," he says. 

You startle. "What?" 

"It's clean, considering how long we've been here. Have you ever seen Spencer's room at the end of a case?" he asks. 

"No, is it bad?" 

"It's like a paper hurricane."

You look down at your knees, hyper aware of his gaze on your face, tired of feeling uneasy in your skin. 

"I wanted to say thank you for doing the press release yesterday. You did an amazing job. It's something to be proud of." 

Of course he's talking about the press release, the one thing you need to not think about. 

"Did Derek tell you?" you ask. 

"Tell me what?" he asks, voice sharpening.

You look up. Hotch is a picture of concern, professionalism slightly off centre. 

"Nothing." 

"Something's been bothering you. Something Derek should've told me, I'm guessing." 

You chew over your words. "Uh. Hotch, it's really nothing, it's a hiccup. The press release, I…" You really don't want to have to say it. The words get stuck at the back of your throat.

He leans forward. "What?" 

"I looked sick. On TV. I looked really unwell, and it– it actually–" Why are you stammering? What's wrong with you? You laugh and it's not your laugh but it's better than your nonsense stuttering. "Sorry. On the press release, I didn't look my best, and it was a hot topic. That's what I thought Derek told you about. But I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me, Hotch." 

"I don't feel sorry for you." 

You wince, "No, of course not." 

"Two seconds," he says, putting his hand forward in the air between you. "A hot topic? I don't understand." He looks genuinely apologetic. 

"The tip line got clogged up with comments about my appearance," you say. You phrase it as a professional error rather than the embarrassing event it represents in your personal life.

His lips curl downward. "Saying you looked tired." 

"Saying I looked unagreeable." 

"As a friend," he says, tone softening, "could you tell me what they said?" 

Heat blooms in your cheeks and behind your eyes, your throat aching as you scratch at a nonexistent itch in the crook of your elbow. "Um. Well, there was a lot of them, and they weren't all about me, but the ones I saw, they seemed to think I needed more sleep. That I–" 

Hitch rarely interrupts, but something in your voice must impel him. "What did they say?" he asks again. 

"That I looked like a creature. That they hoped Miss Langley would be found, so that they didn't have to see my face on TV again. Hotch," you say, your throat sounding as tight as it feels, "it was pretty bad, but it really doesn't matter." 

"I think it matters if it's upset you," he says. 

He has the warmest voice when he wants it to be, so dulcet, almost melodic. You'd think it was a practised phrase, but he speaks freely. 

"It didn't," you lie. 

Pointless in your line of work and automatic anyways. Hotch doesn't deny you the safety of your untruth, but he doesn't entertain it, either. 

"You're beautiful when you're tired," he says. 

You don't mean to, but you hold your breath. The silence that follows his remark is deafening. 

"You're beautiful," he says, again, as though you could've missed it the first time. "Regrettably, you're very tired, but you don't look any less pretty. Don't think what was sent in to the tip line has any merit." 

"Are you saying that as my friend or my boss?" you ask. It's meant to be a joke that lightens the mood. 

"Neither," Hotch says.

You gawp, and then falter. "Why…" 

Hotch is close enough to offer a hand, and you're feeling stupid enough to take it. He squeezes tenderly, looking you straight in the eye. "I'm sorry about what's being said. I had no idea. We can pull the video, and the tipline should stop now Dana's been found, but it doesn't erase what's already happened. I'm so sorry. It's not right, and it's not fair." 

"It's a hard job, right?" you ask.

His hand is so so big, and not as soft as you'd pictured. It doesn't make a difference, not when he's touching you like you might shatter. 

"That's not the job," he says.

"It's silly to care, though. About what other people think." 

"I hope you care about what I think. The merit of an opinion comes from the person, and the relationship you have with them. Anyone who knew you would know that you're beautiful." 

"Inside that counts," you say, not fully comforted, but trying to give him an out. 

"You're beautiful on the outside," he says, giving your hand a small shake. "You're an amazing woman, of course. But I, for one, enjoyed seeing your face on TV."

You try not to smile too hard, directing your gaze at your joined hands lest he get a read on you.

Hotch must know how you feel about him. He'd be an awful profiler if he didn't. You fawn when you're around him even now, months down the line from your very first meeting when you were sure your heart would ricochet from your chest, the intensity of your instant crush like nothing you'd felt, not even as a schoolgirl. He'd been tall, striking, classically handsome and completely unaware of the fact. Now he's sitting across from you and he doesn't seem so tall, nor so striking. His caring side shines like a gem. It's blinding, and it really does make you feel better. 

"I cried in the bathroom," you confess, rubbing your thumb against his in minute, near imperceptible circles. "I wish it didn't matter to me, how I looked. I know I was doing something important, and there wasn't time to freshen up. Maybe I should've just asked somebody else." 

"You did it perfectly. You were perfect. No one else could have delivered the profile to the public that professionally, and that astutely." 

Hotch stands up, and you don't know what to do. You decide to look up at him just as he takes your face into his hands. 

"No crying in bathrooms, okay? It would… it breaks my heart thinking about it. You come to me."  

Such a dramatic statement, yet Hoch lays it out like it's an unquestionable truth. No bravado, only a sincerity that makes your throat hurt. His frown slides back into place as his palms warm your cheeks. 

"You're so busy, I could never," you say, shaking your head. 

"Time and place, sure, but. I will always try to make time for you. I hope you know that by now." 

You nod dazedly. Hotch's hands drag with a pressure down to your neck, your shoulders, leaving tingling skin in their wake. He looks at you and time stretches, a few seconds pulled out of order. It's his closeness, and his affectionate, empathetic smile. 

You nod again. 

He relaxes. 

"Try and get some rest, okay? You need to take care of yourself. I know it's hard to ignore how you feel, I know today was hard, but you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. I have faith in you." He gives your shoulder a final squeeze. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," you say. It comes out much more quietly than intended.

"Rest, honey. Call me if you're upset again. I mean it." 

He smooths your cheek with the back of his forefinger and you wonder if this is some weird fantasy. Hotch makes for the door, and you know for sure it's real when he says, "And no more caffeine tonight." 

"No more caffeine," you agree. 

He doesn't realise he's twice as bad as a coffee. Your heart races all by itself, his phantom touch on your cheek. 

—

"Hi, beautiful," Derek says. 

"There's the girl of the hour," Rossi says. 

You roll your arm in a bow, eyes stinging from the bright lobby lights but otherwise quite happy. Hotch called you beautiful last night. Hotch called you honey. People on the Internet who have nothing better to do thought you looked gross, but Hotch thinks you're pretty. It's hard to focus on the negative with a positive that good. 

"Good morning, my favourite boys," you say sweetly. 

Spencer looks up from his book. "Hey." 

"You didn't say hello," you say, "you excluded yourself." 

Spencer frowns and goes back to his book. You offer him a mini cookie from your pocket and he perks up, better when you whisper, "You know you're my favourite, Reid." 

"We all know that's a lie," Emily says, rolling her small suitcase to your left and nearly trampling your foot. 

"Unfortunately so," Rossi agrees. 

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Hotch looks chipper this morning, doesn't he?" Derek asks, nodding. You follow his nod too quickly and give yourself away, earning a scattered round of laughter from your tired team. "Got you."

"Laugh it up," you say. You're on a high that can't be killed, even with their collective teasing. 

"Why are we laughing?" Hotch asks from behind you. 

You jump half out of your skin. 

"We were laughing at Y/N's swift observational skills, but we spoke too soon," Emily says.

Hotch takes a moment to smile at you. "Hey, you look a little more rested. Feeling better?" 

A flush rises to your cheeks. "Much," you say, sounding foreign to your own ears. 

Hotch gives a pleased nod and clasps your shoulder gently before manoeuvring around you. "Let me go see where JJ is." 

He walks around the lobby corner and into the hotel restaurant. You have your face in your hands before he's gone, harassed by quiet whistles and giggling. 

"She's so embarrassed!" Rossi cheers, like a proud dad. "How hopeless, young love." 

"Someone please shut him up," you beg, rubbing your aching eyes. It's an excuse to hide your smile a moment longer. 

"Are you still tired?" Spencer asks. "You look tired."

"She does not," Derek says severely. 

You raise your head with a smile. Tired or not, Hotch thinks you're beautiful. He liked seeing you on TV. You lavish the memory.

"I'm genuinely exhausted," you say eventually, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek as you stand tall again.

"I want whatever kind of tired you're feeling," JJ says as she arrives, Hotch a step behind her. 

You meet his eyes. You think he might not acknowledge what's been said between you —it wasn't strictly professional to have held your face in his hands like that, after all— and the beginnings of disappointment creep in, until he stands at your side, his fingertips brushing yours. It cannot be accidental. 

"She wears it well, doesn't she?" he asks the group. He gives no time for an answer. "Everyone ready?" 

You practically vibrate your way to the SUV. Not a bad case, as they go. 

 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, so much! I hope you enjoyed! if you did and you have the time, please consider reblogging cos it makes me happy <3

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @tamisdava2 @mask131 @professorlehnsherr-almashy @piterelizabethdevries @thealmightyemprex @amalthea9 @faintingheroine

Family members on my maternal side began to notice aspects of the Autism Spectrum in me between the ages of seven and nine, but they started talking to me about the subject after doing initial readings when I was a teenager. Having constantly heard from people my age and adults terms like “stupid” or “mad”, jokes asking “which scientist studies crazy people?” and comments that the fact that I spent a lot of time reading would make me become mentally ill and be hospitalized, the possibility of seeking a therapist and being diagnosed as neurodivergent was rejected by me when it was suggested. “Imagine my shock as a neurodivergent teenager when I first realized that using a broad vocabulary and eloquent speech doesn't make you less likely to be misinterpreted, but rather adds an entirely new layer of misinterpretation that I had never realized existed in the form of people thinking you’re being snobbish or condescending when you’re just trying to be specific.”

There was the fact that they were well-intentioned people recommending that I seek the diagnosis, but not positioning themselves as possible members of the spectrum, combined with the fact that I was desperate to fit in among the so-called “normal” people, to avoid the social stigma of “crazy” and surviving years of bullying, creating a situation in which I internalized self-hatred.

Over the years, involving myself in hobbies such as writing fanfiction and sharing reviews of films and TV shows, I began to create a community of virtual friends, many of whom have already been diagnosed with autism or are at least considering the possibility of being on the spectrum.

“As an autistic person, it's really nice to have someone to send information to. That’s one of the best things about social media.”

Furthermore, I started participating in courses and lectures on the spectrum organized by members of the Campus where I study.

I listened to stories of life experiences narrated by autistic people themselves, so diverse, and at the same time having so many similarities with my life.

It was different from the well-intentioned neurotypical acquaintances suggesting I seek help: these were people speaking for themselves, proudly positioning themselves as autistic.

After having faced a period of depression and anxiety caused by the political state of Brazil exacerbated by the COVID 19 Pandemic, mixed with a series of family communication problems, with the support of my grandmother, my friends from Campus, and the community of friends which I did virtually through fandoms on the internet, I decided to embrace the search for diagnosis.

An online acquaintance of mine once asked me if I ever felt emotionally lonely as an autistic person.

I answered yes, being the worst period of loneliness before the diagnosis, forcing me to mask my true feelings, misjudging myself and constantly suffering errors of judgment and mistreatment from others who wanted to force me to be “ normal".

It got to the point where I suffered suicidal ideation.

It is thanks to the diagnosis and weekly therapy that I now have words to say:

"I have my limits and I will not exceed them just to fit into your vague sense of 'normality'. I am not broken, society is broken, so not be accessible to people like us."

I take this opportunity to say that I am just an individual.

Being a spectrum, each autistic person is different, formed by family life, culture, society and access (or lack of access, in many cases) to the diagnosis and therapies in the places in which they grew up.

I leave here for reflection this translation of a post that I found and reblogged here on Tumblr (don't remember the original author, but still want to credit them):

“There are some autistic “traits” that people find really annoying, but which are inherently kind. Like explaining too much, many autistic people haven’t had certain things explained because “everyone knows it.”

So when an autistic person over-explains something, it's not because they think you're stupid, it's because they know what it's like for someone to assume you know something you don't and just never explain how or why.

It's kindness.

Autistic people aren't boring or stupid because of that. They are kind.”

Don't just settle for my story, try to hear the stories of other autistic people.

*Paragraphs between air quotes are quotes from other autistic people's posts I found here on Tumblr.

[atopvisenyashill]

HELLO pls pls share ur aegon and carl thoughts 😭😭😭 but only if u want to..

okay because the lil fandom joke is they’re both the last man standing right? they get put through insane physical injuries - aegon suicide swan dives TWICE and lives, carl gets shot in the face - they outlive most of the other characters in the story, and live through it with cockroach like luck until the very ending of their conflicts, left physically scarred by what they’ve been through, with nothing but a daughter they can’t connect with and a world that is already forgetting about the danger & horror aegon & carl have just lived through. and before they can really figure out what the good thing to do is, the story ends.

i think there’s a lot to be said for how both of their violence is enabled as children for different reasons. obviously talking mix of shows & comics/books here but we get alicent, viserys, & criston (probably otto too tho we don’t see that as much) modeling abhorrent behavior, and rick, shane, to a lesser extent lori, all modeling Heroic Violence, then smothering aegon and leaving carl unsurpervised so when they start acting out the violent behavior they’ve had modeled, no one tries to stop it from continuing. aegon is enabled by the fuedal society he lives in, carl’s by the apocalyptic breakdown he’s living through. To see the world as Us vs Them and to react with violence at any threat to Us by Them.

the main difference here being that both lori & rick are vastly superior parents than alicent & viserys are, and carl’s violence & callousness scares the shit out of them (rightly, he’s out here murdering unarmed kids!!!) and carl is eventually in a place (like a literal place, the prison specifically) where other adults (again vastly superior parents & people than the ones aegon is with) like hershel, maggie, daryl, tyrese, and glenn, are all at least attempting to keep an eye on him while rick loses his mind and lori, ya know, dies.

but most notably, the thing that carl has that aegon doesn’t, can’t ever have, is a parent who actually parents him. carl’s saving grace, the thing that saves carl’s soul is his stepmother - obviously in the comics it’s andrea but i’ve always found the michonne/rick/carl story line in the show to be superior in this case. michonne who has all this maternal love and nowhere to put it, carl with the desperate need to be a child and no one to look after him. like, michonne literally entering the story holding baby bottles and formula so rick’s child doesn’t starve to death. rick can only trust michonne once carl gives the okay, michonne can only start to love rick once carl accepts her presence at the prison. “if you’re okay then i’m okay.” michonne has to become carl’s mother and best friend before she can become rick’s lover and partner. it has to happen in that order because even though rick is the main character, carl is his reason for existing. and michonne, already a mother, can see that. many people see carl as a tool to get to rick but only michonne sees carl as a child in need of love. but no one ever looks at aegon and sees a child in need of saving or a young adult in need of help. so while carl ostensibly gets to live in the new world and help make it better, aegon has to die because no one ever gave him the tools to ensure he could live. he doesn’t have a michonne. he can’t for the story to work.

there’s also the gender thing too - i tag carl as “carl grimes patron saint of agender children everywhere” i feel so seriously about carl the they/them. aegon’s whole life “being a force fem” but the thing is so is carl’s. aegon is the ignored daughterson being puppeted by his family forced into a marriage he doesn’t want and to have children he doesn’t want all so his family can social climb, but in order for rick grimes to be the hero of the walking dead with this world ending, all consuming, death defying love for his son, his son needs to be the damsel in distress forever. so bad shit just keeps happening to carl so rick can be the hero and rick can grow as a person and carl is beaten down over and over again-until rick has this world built on The Terrible Things He Did For Love and therefore can’t exist in this world of love, and finally carl has to live with the one brutal trauma he can never get over - his father’s death.

because carl isn’t the main character in his own story, it’s rick. and aegon isn’t the main character in his own story, it’s rhaenyra. so once rhaenyra & rick die, they have to keep going to make the tragedy go on because the tragedy is the point. they can’t even be the tragedy of their own stories! because aegon usurps his sister then is left with just a daughter he can’t name as his heir, and rick builds a haven made out of corpses to save his child only for someone else’s child who he orphaned to make an orphan out of carl, and now carl can’t even show his daughter his entire face out of fear and grief.

rick dies and carl’s story has to end soon after, rhaenyra dies and aegon’s story has to end soon after. they are the last man standing but they are not the main character, and they do not get to have catharsis. they just get to be over.

[distant-screaming]

predictably asking about never let me go for the ask game ✨️

WOOOO DID SOMEONE SAY NEVER LET ME GO I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT THEM IN AGES (read: a day) YIPPEE THANK YOU ARCHER <3 as always I yap a lot so most of it's under the cut :)

Favorite Male Character

I love most of the characters in the series for how interesting they are but like. come on palm is my brand and everything he's my silly little skrunkly (guy who has faced a thousand horrors) <3

Favorite Female Character

I absolutely adore Maggie, she's so cute and just <33 but I think my favorite is Nueng’s mom - she's very maternal and soft towards Nueng but that doesn't detract from her girlbossery in the slightest!! and she tries her best to be a good parent so that's a major win in my book 🙂‍↕️

Least Favorite Character

hmmmm probably chanon? the other nlmg characters I dislike are at least complex and interesting but chanon is just... he gives me absolutely nothing to work with so I don't like him much

Favorite Ship

palmnueng 💖🎀🥰💞🧡🫶‼️

Favorite Friendship

I really adore chopper + nueng’s relationship!it's so interesting and complex and nlmg is a romance show so it focuses on the romance but I would love to just see like three whole episodes of these two!! (honorary shout out to ben + palm, who have the opposite of a friendship going on. incredibly hilarious no notes)

Favorite Quote

hmm I've never thought about it before. I don't really remember quotes as such from shows? [...] okay upon going through the eps really quickly, I think I have an answer! ep 8 4/4, from nueng: "I've never been in love before. But when I wake up, I want you to be with me. When I fall asleep, I want you to be next to me. I want you to be with me every moment. If that's what people call love, I love you."

like. hello. me and who. it's so in character and sweet and to me love is a very nebulous big thing so to define it with an action like waking up and sleeping is just!!!!!

Worst Character Death (if any)

mam. GAH. I wasn't the biggest fan of her initially but she grew on me and then she DIED protecting her son(s) and it was such a gut punch because I was like surely no one will die right. and p'jojo was like joke's on you and I just had to sit there and deal? mam's death devastated me :(

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

many. many scenes. made me extremely happy in nlmg. if I had to pick one that's less obvious (ie kiss scene, any of the beach scenes etc etc) then... okay so I really love the fight in ep 3 because I love when characters go feral and start biting people because of their Person, but the part after where palm returns the necklace to nueng and helps him put it on... it's just. so good. I love it so much. it showcases their current dynamic so well, and both of them are already falling for each other and it's so tender and soft and I think this is kind of the. like. they just sit there and talk. and to me love is something that can definitely happen at first sight and with little things but I think the characters have to really know each other before being head over heels in love, you know? and this scene kind of sets up the stage for that a little bit? and it's just. yeah <3 I love it

Saddest Moment

okay I know the general answer would be the palm getting shot bit in ep 12, and don't get me wrong I was literally flabbergasted when I first watched it, but! the saddest scene to me is for SURE the end of ep 9/beginning of ep 10 - where nueng leaves palm in the motel room and goes back to bangkok alone. this entire section is so softly devastating and it kind of, it plays on both palm and nueng’s worst insecurities and it's so good and if anyone wants me to elaborate I will but this is already longer than I intended so I'll stop. that section makes me so incredibly upset every time. 10/10

Favorite Location

aesthetics wise, absolutely the island with mam, the setting itself is gorgeous and palmnueng look gorgeous there too. in terms of more story based, I really like the. backyard? backforest? at nueng’s house! lots of subtle flirting moments and it's very gorgeous as well <3

[bridgertonbabe]

On your Strictly AU… Kai and Angela are giving me Violet and Michael vibes.

Imagine a year or two after Anthony does is when Sophie and Kate are on maternity leave Violet is approached to take part and gets partnered with none other than Michael Stirling!

Anthony and Benedict completely scandalised at the high kicks and seeing their mother being tossed around whilst Kate and Sophie are giving her helpful tips and Frannie is just 😍 wanting to get to know her mothers dance partner!

Omfg yes!!!!

While Anthony is competing Violet loves being in the audience to support her son though she comes to realise that a part of her also envies him, wishing she could have the chance to be taught such technical dances by championship dancers. Whenever she came to visit him during rehearsals or when he came over for dinner she would eagerly pester him to teach her some steps just to get a taster of what it must be like to do a ballroom dance. Naturally she was thrilled to see her son win the Glitterball trophy and she was even more excited when she found out that not only was Anthony dating Kate, but that Benedict was seeing his brother's dance partner Sophie; and of course whenever her sons' girlfriends were round she'd eagerly pick their brains about everything dance related and they were always more than happy to teach her a few dance combinations.

Several years later Violet's agent called her up to give her the news she had always hoped to receive; the BBC had offered her the chance to be a contestant on the show. She said "yes" in a heartbeat and she was fizzing with excitement to share the news with her kids. She was quite dismayed when the reaction she received wasn't as supportive as she imagined, with Colin and Eloise quipping a few jokes at her expense and her eldest sons doubting whether she was up to par to be on the show. Thankfully her daughters-in-law were her saving grace as they hyped her up and vowed to be there for her day and night should she ever want to get some advice or help with her dancing.

Cut to the launch show where the pairings for which contestant will be paired up with which professional are revealed and much to Violet's delight - and her children's shock and horror - she gets paired with the newest pro; Michael Stirling. She is the envy of all the other contestants and viewing audience alike as the ridiculously sexy Scotsman proves to be an instant charmer and wins over just about every person he meets - well, almost everyone.

Of course Anthony and Benedict are the most scandalised especially after seeing Michael Stirling stretch their mother's leg this high;

"What a traumatising way to find out mum's that flexible."

But what would additionally be a funny aspect to Violet's participation is if Edmund is still alive and well - and positively terrified that the Strictly curse might strike his blissfully happy marriage. He had never wavered in his love for Violet and he had always been secure in himself to never doubt the strength of their marriage; but Michael Stirling's sudden presence in his life unnerved him. Considering he had watched his wife act opposite many other good-looking actors brimming with charisma, there was just something about the young Scotsman that got under his skin. He had youth on his side, was ridiculously handsome, had an irresistible grin that made every hot-blooded woman swoon, and there was a permanent flirtatious tone whenever he opened his mouth; how could anyone possibly turn down his advances?

Of course he'd try his best to ignore his own insecurities as best he could and put Violet first, being her biggest fan and sitting in the audience every week to support her. However it didn't help that the tabloids had done a deep-dive into his wife's dance partner's prolific Casanova past with various ex-lovers selling their stories about how Michael had seduced them. He had reportedly slept with married women, several women his senior, and had allegedly even once had dalliances with Kate and Sophie; which wasn't true in the slightest as Edmund's daughters-in-law laughed the claims off and stated that Michael was just a flirty friend - not that it stopped Anthony and Benedict from suffering from near-breakdowns at the thought of Michael having gone anywhere near their wives. There were even fans online who seemed to be legitimately shipping his wife with her professional dancer, and it was difficult for Edmund to ignore what seemed to be the world trying to signal that his marriage was doomed.

Then one day Violet invited Michael over for dinner to celebrate getting through to Blackpool week and Edmund truly felt as if he was being tested as he plastered a genial smile on his face throughout the meal. Anthony and Benedict were equally peeved to be in Michael's presence as the dancer occupied their mother and wives attention, something which Colin found quite amusing until Michael kept stealing Penelope's attention away from him and constantly kept making her giggle much to his chagrin. Unbeknownst to the men, the reason why Violet had invited Michael over was actually to set him up with Francesca, who had expressed interest to her mother after visiting them during rehearsals. Violet had noticed Michael took an instant shine to her daughter and ever since he had always asked after her in particular more than any of her other children, and she was hopeful that they would make a perfect match.

As Violet progressed further in the competition, Edmund became fearful that the more hours she was putting in had nothing to do with training but that she had succumbed to Michael Stirling's charm and had begun an affair with him. He tried not to let it get to him but one day while Francesca was round his irrational thinking got the best of him and he blurted out his suspicions that he thought Violet was sleeping with Michael. He was outraged when Francesca cracked up laughing and he began having a go at her for not taking him seriously and went on and on about how he was sure his wife was cheating on him.

"Oh for god's sake, dad! Mum's not sleeping with Michael!"

"And how can you be so sure?!"

"Because I'm sleeping with Michael!"

At which point Edmund fell silent, dumbfounded as to how to respond since the possibility that Michael was sleeping with his daughter and not his wife had never crossed his mind. After a very long five minutes of shocked silence Edmund cleared his throat and asked whether or not it was serious between them, to which Francesca informed him that she had spent every night of the last few weeks with Michael. Edmund nodded in acknowledgement as he now tried to wrap around his head around the possibility that Michael Stirling, rather than being a threat to his marriage, could very well end up being his future son-in-law instead.

Eventually much to her overwhelming joy Violet ends up winning the show with Michael and despite his misguided paranoia, Edmund couldn't be prouder of his wife. He also warms up to Michael when he sees just how besotted he is with Francesca, and especially after Michael offers to teach him the foxtrot to surprise Violet with for their upcoming wedding anniversary.

[saintfourr]

What if... The 400 day group replaced the cabin group (my version).

Vince

Father of the group, he who makes the tough decisions. He takes the place of Luke/Pete.

He's kind of skeptical when Clementine appears bitten until it is confirmed that it was a dog.

He usually jokes about being arrested but tells Clementine not to worry.

At the end of the chapter, you are between Wyatt and Vince but neither of them die.

Unlike Kenny, he doesn't say that Clementine is guilty of something without having done anything. He knows how much she must have blamed herself for putting Lee through all that when she disappeared.

Unfortunately because everyone goes against Clem, she is put in the shed for the night.

In the final fight it's him against Kenny. You can choose to kill Kenny or Shel kills Kenny.

Clementine can say goodbye to Kenny affectionately, harshly, or not at all.

It's not your fault, kid. You just wanted to find your parents.

Wyatt

He takes the big brother's place, Nick's place.

He is understanding with Clementine and understands how she feels about losing her best friend.

He's very protective of the group and Clementine, he's already lost Eddie and he doesn't want to lose any more people.

Sometimes he lets out a few curse words and apologizes if anyone complains.

He didn't want to let Clementine stay with them at first.

Unlike Nick, he didn't shoot the bridge guy. So there wasn't as much drama in the ski hut.

He accompanies Clementine to help Becca and Vince.

You lost your friend, so did I. I know how it hurts, I'm sorry about that.

Shel

Mother of the group, Carlos' place but more intelligent and more maternal.

She knows the difference between a zombie bite and a dog bite. So she can tell that it was actually a dog bite and that a zombie wouldn't take a bite that big.

She is more accepting of Clementine.

She is shocked to learn that her old group betrayed Clem's group and apologizes for them. But she explains that the group fell apart.

She takes Jane's place in a way but she's more emotionally good than Jane. She isn't that tough and is willing to take care of Clem and Becca.

She tries to be a motherly figure to Clem.

Everything will be fine Clem, we'll help you find Christa.

Becca

Sarah with more guts and willpower.

Teach Clem to play the guitar.

There was no way she wanted to let Clementine into the cabin because of the bite.

She says some bad words and scary things sometimes and doesn't care.

Clementine's romantic interest in future seasons.

She is trapped with Vince inside the trailer however, she is not the reason for calling zombies. What caught the horde's attention was an alarm.

Clem controls the things she says, like censorship. So she doesn't get hurt by Carver's hands.

Rebel chaotic sister energy.

Carver is just a piece of shit, huh?

Russel

Same with Becca, he didn't want her to go in there.

It took him a while to trust her, he closed himself off after what happened with Nate.

Clementine's future romantic interest as well.

He enjoys listening to Clementine's stories of what she's been through.

He helps steal the radio with Clementine.

He wants to find a trailer, because of Clem's history, he thinks it might be a good vehicle for traveling.

He likes to talk about his family, especially his grandmother.

He manages to relate to Clem and the Stranger, he also thought Nate was trustworthy or something.

He found it quite awkward to tell Clem that he had laid down next to Carley/Doug's body.

He hands Clementine the medicine when she shows up at the cabin with an injured arm. Even though he was against her, he felt sorry for her arm.

I will never forgive him for what he did.

Bonnie

This time she doesn't pull the bitch card and betray the group.

Guilty about killing Dee and Leland leaving.

Rebecca's place, however she is more welcoming with Clem but she was still worried.

She has a motherly and sisterly energy, a kind of aunt to Clementine.

She shoots Arvo when he shoots Clementine.

I really don't know what to say about her, she already appears halfway through the game.

[thekimspoblog]

Me: One of the most important scenes I still need to write for SK is the opening to Ep 6, where Kim tracks down her mom and visits her. Kim says to her mom that she forgives her for the neglect. Kim's mom says that she has nothing to apologize for; she did the best she could as a single parent living paycheck to paycheck. It's an uncomfortable conversation, and the reconciliation goes nothing like Kim had hoped it would, but the point is that if she can let go of the anger at her mother, Kim can let go of her own self-loathing.

It's not explained until 3 episodes later, but this was the moment Kim decided that if she still had time, she wanted a daughter of her own. That even if she can't give her kid a much better childhood than she herself had... her childhood wasn't ALL BAD; maybe there's enough to be worth passing on.

I'm very interested in how Kim's psychological baggage shapes her decisions, and getting more in-touch with her maternal side would be an interesting character study.

Friend: It sure would be a way to take her out of her usual context, as you said being a career focused woman. Would you go with her trying to balance her pregnancy, and eventual... Motherly duties with her career or she would need to leave her career on hold (I dont think she would do this, but you know, just to spin something) and trying not to resent the baby and/or eventually Jimmy himself for "putting" her on that situation? I may be asking something thats already on the fanfic jsjsjs now that I think about it

Me: In my original "Sheepdog" fanfic, there was more exploration of the idea that Kim doesn't really want this baby and how a surprise pregnancy triggers an existential crisis. But that prediction for Season 6 never came true, so "Sheepdog" was just a nightmare Kim had.

"Slippin Kimmy" which is my new story, picks up six years after the events of BCS season 6. So in this timeline, Kim has already been disbarred because of what she did to Howard. Her career is already ruined, so she might as well settle down at this point. Kim is still trying to help poor people, especially homeless women, but without a license to practice, Kim's boss recommends that she shift her focus to lobbying. Eventually, this leads Kim to fall in with a group of progressive evangelicals, and the Church is able to get Jimmy released on house arrest after only six years of his sentence. Impatient to make up for lost time, they get remarried and start trying for a kid.

So to answer your question... Kim's not a lawyer anymore, but she still has a career as an activist. They are able to lie low and just bask in the domestic bliss for nine months, but once Iris is born, the plan is for Kim to go back to work while Jimmy is more than happy to just be a stay-at-home-dad; he's tired and frankly a little agoraphobic at this point. Saving the world is his wife's job now; Jimmy just wants to stay out of trouble.

The joke is that between 2010 and 2016, Kim was still just trying to be a decent, quiet person volunteering in Florida. But after the election, she sort of SNAPPED. Gave up trying to be a moral person when clearly nobody else has been trying, and went back to doing the things that make her happy: chicanery and her jailbird ex. She didn't want to bring a kid like them into this world, when neither she nor Jimmy could ever function comfortably in polite society. But if the country is teetering on the brink of anarchy... actually maybe this is the perfect time to pollute the genepool.

There's definitely a sort of feralness with how I write her: she still tries to solve problems rationally, but she's learned to sometimes just act on instinct. The LAW has no interest in keeping her alive; her nerves and muscles are the only commands she can trust.

[the8thsphynx]

Does River have any siblings? (half joking as a 'and are they single' joke, but also bc I'm gen curious if River is an only child or not)

This is a really good question, actually! Thank you!!

(also even if he doesn't have siblings, he's poly so as long as you're alright with sharing you can h*ld his h*nd)

Saying either 'yes' or 'no' is a bit complicated, so I hope you don't mind a bit of explanation on my part!

I have thought about it, especially if I should tie one of the main cast to him familiarly through it, too. Like... if Fakkir's husband was actually an older brother of River's who was a runaway? Or what if Brier was a separated younger half-sister? They were super fun ideas at the time, but ultimately I decided that either of those being AU canon would dampen the 'found family' story I'm writing for myself here.

Likewise, I can't find a reason I like enough on if a younger or older sibling or even any of River's other maternal family members should walk into the plot. While the Olivarez mage family name is important to River's backstory in regards to both being tied to Aim's ritual and the environment he was raised in, I wonder if I want to leave it in River's past.

So, the best and most honest answer I can give is 'It's not plot-relevant at the moment'.

That being said, it's not an idea I'm against! If anyone ever wanted to share a headcanon or a general thought, I always welcome it and appreciate it!

[pashterlengkap]

Pete Buttigieg beautifully defends his family in response to Mike Pence’s homophobic joke

Out Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg had a heartfelt response to Mike Pence’s homophobic joke about him taking “maternity leave.” Earlier this month at the Gridiron Club dinner, Pence joked that Buttigieg went on “maternity leave” in 2021 as Buttigieg took some time off to care for his premature twins. When his joke was received poorly in the media, Pence lashed out at Buttigieg, saying that “Pete Buttigieg not only can’t do his job but he can’t take a joke,” even though Buttigieg hadn’t publicly responded to Pence’s joke. --- Related Stories Pete Buttigieg slams GOP critics for pretending to care about middle America Buttigieg admitted to some mistakes in his handling of the Ohio train derailment but also said the GOP criticism was unfounded. --- “When Pete’s two children were born, he took two months maternity leave, whereupon thousands of travelers were stranded in airports, the air traffic system shut down, aeroplanes nearly collided in midair,” Pence said. Saying Buttigieg went on “maternity” instead of “paternity leave” or “family leave” is a reference to Buttigieg’s sexuality. Many on the right have already told this joke, including Fox News host Tucker Carlson, Rep. Lauren Boebert (R-CO), and even The National Review. Earlier this week Buttigieg responded to the “joke” on LZ Granderson’s Life Out Loud podcast. Granderson asked Buttigieg about Pence’s “attacks.” “Don’t get me wrong, it is galling for people, especially people who go on television talking about family values,” Buttigieg responded. “And then when your actual family is struggling, they use it as a way to attack you or as a political football.” “Don’t get me wrong, that definitely gets to you at some level. But at another level, you realize that that’s just politics.” He said that his twins were born prematurely in 2021 and were hospitalized for the first two weeks of their lives. Both of them got seriously ill in their first year of life, with one of his children getting respiratory syncytial virus (RSV), which can be fatal. His husband, Chasten Buttigieg, has talked about how their other child turned purple and stopped breathing and how both of the infants had to be hospitalized again and put on oxygen. “When you’re face-to-face with a life-or-death struggle involving a child and that comes out OK, it becomes less important to you that the political game comes out OK,” he said on the podcast. “Because if you got to choose between one of those things working out, it’s an easy choice. The things you want and need most to work out is the wellbeing of your family and it allows you to remember that so much of the rest is noise.” Buttigieg said that Pence is just trying to get attention. “I think the best answer to a lot of these attacks and a lot of this meanness that’s out there, the best answer is to be a thriving family or to do everything you can to be a thriving family,” he said. “The best answer to people out there who don’t even think we count as a real family is the love and the beauty of our family itself. It’s not a zinger. It’s not a tweet. It’s something that those critics will, maybe, never see for themselves and wouldn’t know how to respect if they did, which is the unconditional and enormous love that binds us together in this new family – that gives a different kind of meaning to my life.” http://dlvr.it/SlgYNW

[outoftheirdifferences]

And heeeeeere’s the ramble (I mean, backstory) for Lauren, my OC, that I promised!

A reserved girl. Closed off, often cold to those around her - but hiding a bitter and fiery anger that often bubbles just below the surface.

Not that you’d know it at first glance. Watch her at school, around her friends, and Lauren Salvage just seems like any other normal teenager. She enjoys the company of classmates Amy and Gavin, animal-loving older student Nina, and especially young Rachel; she complains about schoolwork with them, laughs at dumb jokes with them. Sure, she’s visibly a little rough around the edges: she doesn’t hesitate to say what’s on her mind, doesn’t pull any punches, and can sometimes make others uncomfortable by doing so. But that doesn’t mark her as that odd, does it?

Only... then there are the other times. The times when she’ll unthinkingly make a comment so full of bitter resentment that it kills the conversation dead and leaves even her friends reeling. The times when she’ll blow off even most of them when something really sparks off that anger and pisses her off. Or the times when, if she’s made exceptionally mad, she’ll turn and fling a hefty punch at whoever had goaded her to that point.

And, of course, once that point is reached things rarely stop at one blow. Of course, the person she hits will invariably hit back. Several times, Lauren has found herself brawling in the dirt with other schoolmates, taking as many bruises and beatings as she gives out, until her friends or teachers are able to intervene to pull them apart. No matter what explanation is demanded, Lauren has always remained sullenly silent; as far as she’s concerned, her teachers would never understand, they just want someone to blame for the fight, so why should she bother?

Her bolder classmates have made it something of a game to taunt her over anything and everything they can think of, trying to find just what it is that's guaranteed to make her snap.

And in truth, there’s only one thing... well, two, the other being threats to her friends, but PRIMARILY one... that ever gets to her that much, makes her that mad that she loses all self-restraint and unleashes the buried depths of her rage...

And that’s the subject of family.

See, Lauren’s relationship with her own family is... next to nonexistent. Being conceived out of an irresponsible fling at a wild party at university wouldn’t have been a good start for anyone - and was a situation made immeasurably worse by her maternal grandparents, who showed their 21-year-old daughter Charlie no understanding or compassion and took instead a you got into this, it’s your own problem stance regarding her unintended child... while Jacob, the other participant, had already gone on to graduate and skip town before learning that anything unexpected had come from that night.

Though she already loved her unborn baby, the stress took its toll on Charlie; and by the time Lauren was born, she was close to breaking point. Add in, in due course, the abrupt disappearance of her older sister, the only family member who’d had Charlie’s back through the difficult time, and it became far more than she could handle. Though she loved her daughter more than anything and wanted nothing but the best for her, Charlie had to face the fact that she couldn’t provide that best.

Finding Jacob Salvage’s current address, a small apartment in the heart of the big city, she sought him out. As the child’s other parent, Charlie convinced herself that he would surely give Lauren the care she couldn’t. And so, without preamble, she deposited the three-year-old redheaded bundle into his arms, and vanished from Lauren’s life.

Lauren, however, doesn’t know most of this story. All she remembers is the events of the last sentence, and them only vaguely.

And it wasn’t as if her life improved from that point. Jacob had never wanted children at all, and had neither the first idea how to look after a child nor the inclination to learn. While he has provided for Lauren ever since, and has never deliberately treated her badly, his is a very detached, hands-off approach, treating her more like a distant - albeit dependent - roommate who he has no particular interest in getting to know.

As such, Lauren has grown up starved for parental affection, knowing only that her mother walked out and her father doesn’t care; this has made her bitter at the world in general, and resentful of other kids who have easy family lives in particular. She doesn’t act out specifically, at least not deliberately, but this spitefulness lurks in her heart at all times; so rub her lack of caring family in her face at your own peril, for THIS is the thing that, without fail, causes her to snap and lash out.

As such, aside from her few close friends, Lauren has very little time for people her own age. Her favourite hobbies are generally solo activities; she likes to catch the bus out of town, find a secluded spot in the countryside or the woodlands, and just sit on her own, surrounded by nature. She likes to learn about the wider world and dreams of some day visiting the most desolate, wild, and beautiful sights that nature has to offer. And she likes to write, penning out wild fantasy adventures involving herself and her friends that she would never dream of showing to anyone.

And, deep, deep in her subconscious where even she isn’t aware of it, she longs for a caring mother figure in her life.

---

And then there was the point at which everything changed.

That one day. Late autumn in her fifteenth year, when she was leaving school after yet another fight had earned her several hours of after-school detention--

-when, out of the gathering darkness, she was thrown to the ground. Spoiling for a fight, Lauren rounded on her attacker - only to find, not a schoolyard enemy looking for some easy revenge, but a woman she’d never seen before. A woman with a creepily disjoined, spider-like posture, who revealed herself to be a trained assassin and who proceeded to toy with Lauren like a cat playing with its prey. She beat the girl into the ground, overpowering her clumsy brawling easily to restrain her, pinning her in place and savouring Lauren’s most intense fear - the fear of being rendered so helpless.

Lauren had been sure it was over for her right then and there - but whatever the Assassin’s plans, they was thwarted just in the nick of time. A passer-by had seen the fight and called the police, and the nearest officer to the scene, Officer Danni Ashland, came charging to the rescue.

The rescue went badly. History, it seemed, existed between the two women; and the Assassin pinned Lauren in place and proceeded to gleefully taunt, threaten and tackle the officer, impaling Danni’s shoulder deeply with a brutal knife. Despite the wound, Danni fought back tooth and nail... and, with the Assassin so occupied, Lauren managed to free herself. For once in her life too badly shaken to fight, she instead fled into the night.

((Though Lauren doesn’t know it, the fight was brought to a swift end. Officer Danni had had the foresight to call in backup, and within minutes of Lauren’s departure more police were all over the scene and had the Assassin in custody. Being an escape artist, it is unlikely she will remain there for long. Meanwhile, Danni has made it her personal mission to track down Lauren for herself - both to protect her, and to get to the bottom of the reasons behind the attack on her.))

Stopping by home just long enough to gather her savings and her personal belongings and throw a brief explanation at her dad - who was as disinterested and noncommittal as she always resented him for being - Lauren caught the next bus out of town. Clearly she was in trouble, and the police couldn’t even protect themselves, much less her; so the best thing she could do on her own was vanish. She has no plans on where to go, her only thought in mind just to keep going, to remain on the move, go as far as she can - and, well, it isn’t lost on her that this is perhaps, finally, her chance to see more of the world as she’d always dreamed of, since she's travelling anyway. As a girl who always hated the oppressive atmosphere of the city, it’s a chance she relishes.

Still, the attack haunts her. The feeling of being restrained and helpless haunts her. And, more than anything, not understanding why she was singled out haunts her - though the Assassin’s words had certainly made evident that the attack was far from random, and that she was, in some way, significant.

Lauren wishes she understood why.

---

As to physical appearance; Lauren has some musculature built up through her brawls, but is otherwise a generally scrawny girl of about average height for her fifteen years of age. Her most distinctive features are her hair, which is a very vivid ginger cut untidily at about collar-level, and her deep brown eyes that flash with intimidating intensity. Her features are roughly squarish, and her knuckles often carry the bruises of one fight or other.

Common outfits consist of a moss-coloured hoodie over a plain t-shirt and grey jeans, her school uniform of white dress shirt and tightly-knotted green tie with the school’s crest, or some combination of the two. These are always accompanied by scuffed brown sneakers, and by her well-worn school backpack which, stuffed as it is with her personal effects since going on the run, she refuses to let out of her sight.

[ahundredtimesover]

A Still Day or A Hurricane (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: single mom lawyer!OC x pastry chef!Jungkook; angst, fluff, smut; age gap

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; mentions of death of a relative; pregnancy, single parenthood; eventual smut (18+)

Chapter Word count: 9.7k

Status: Completed

Series summary: Driven by your perfectionist attitude and need to have everything in order, you planned that by age 30, you’d have made junior partner, bought your own apartment, and have children. You achieved them, of course, and while the last bit required you to take matters into your own hands - no thanks to your ex-boyfriend who dumped you but to your best friend who directed you to a fertility clinic - you’re now a 31-year old who pretty much has her life under control. You’re ready to raise your child on your own, that is, until the 20-something pastry chef flirts his way into your heart, messing up the perfect little life you worked so hard to have for yourself.

Listen to: Fool (Frad & Hayne), Dance (offonoff), Wa-r-r (Colde) || Playlist 🎶

Series Masterlist

##

The next few weeks fly by faster than you hoped. With your maternity leave set to start soon, you’ve started making the necessary plans and adjustments to make sure that your cases and other managerial functions are carried out accordingly. From meetings to planning sessions to the occasional back-and-forth with Jin on who gets which assignment, your days are packed. 

You still ensure you get your proper rest, though, and that you don’t miss any of your yoga sessions and runs at the Blue Side, especially - and though you hate to admit it - with a certain doe-eyed man always happy to see you when you walk through the doors. 

Jungkook somehow aligned his shift with your morning visits, and you’ve found that seeing him even for just half an hour before you head to work does a lot for your mood. He knows just how to make you laugh and forget that you’re gonna be dealing with difficult clients and stressful cases for the rest of the day. And while he’s done away with giving you free breakfast, he does still sneak in an extra scoop of vanilla ice cream with your turnovers or honey biscuits with your tea.

He meant what he said he wouldn’t mind if you messaged him at random hours of the day when you’re craving for something, and him whipping it up or buying it when he can’t. You don’t like being a bother, but with Namjoon on paternity leave after the birth of his son, with Byeol taking on more shifts, and your family being in another county, Jungkook has been nothing but a relief, helping you with your cravings, your groceries, and even your check ups. 

He’s still a little cheeky sometimes, complimenting you on how you look after you said it was fine, and being his usual chaotic self with his stories of growing up and weird thoughts about life. Spending time with him is far from uncomfortable, or even tense and serious. He’s attentive when you’re speaking, asks things about your work and shows genuine interest, and even comes up with his own theories after watching another one of your trials on TV. 

The teasing from your colleagues hasn't let up, especially when you turn them down for some after-work hangout but then grab a quick dinner with Jungkook after his shift has ended, opting for lighthearted conversations and laughter instead. 

“I know I was pushing for this but not gonna lie, I’m getting a bit jealous,” Jin said one time after you passed up on lunch with him and Yoongi to briefly meet up with Jungkook after he teased you with strawberry-filled croissants that you couldn’t say no to.

“You just hate it because that means you and ___ can’t hook up anymore,” Yoongi snorted.

You kicked his shin under the conference table and made a face at Jin who was faking a heartache. It’s been a year since the last time it happened, but your friends never miss a chance of teasing you both about it.

“Jokes aside, I’m glad you finally gave the kid a chance,” Jin continued. “He always seemed so genuine and so whipped for you. It’s time that you get to be with someone who truly appreciates you for everything that you are.”

The insinuation wasn’t lost on you, as you know that despite all the tension and sexual history with Jin - which mainly composed of harmless make out sessions that never escalated to anything more - he always cared about you, and you always felt he was sincere with his friendship.

You corrected him, though, that you weren’t giving Jungkook a chance in that sense, insisting that both of you are just friends and being with him is some sort of temporary relief from everything else you’re dealing with. You don’t think about him as much when you’re not together, and you know your place and so does he. 

Yoongi pointed out how you no longer corrected their comments on Jungkook’s adoration for you, nor do you deny the comfort you’d started to feel around the younger man.

You’ve gotten used to his playfulness and occasional flirting attempts, which always end with a fit of laughter and teasing on your end. He’s fun when he’s not trying too hard, but more than that, your perpetually overworked mind gets relief when you’re with him, and you’re always amazed at how he’s able to maintain his laid-back attitude despite the demands of his own job.

It’s just so easy. It’s like being in a bubble with him where everything around becomes background noise and it’s just both of you - laughing, talking, eating. And you’re unable to think of anything else; you’re unable to dissect and analyze anything else.

It started to scare you when you woke up one morning and felt pain in your limbs and the first thing you thought to do was call him. You had to stop yourself, not wanting to admit that you’re starting to need him, to want him, and it’s something you just can’t do. 

You lied through your teeth when he called you that day, saying you were fine, and you waited for Byeol to finish her shift at the hospital then whined to her about it. All she did was laugh, said I told you so, and reminded you that liking Jungkook isn’t so bad. 

You don’t, you can’t, you’d told her, and she didn’t push it, knowing you don’t like being told what to do or what to feel. 

You always prided yourself in knowing your boundaries, on where the lines are and knowing not to cross them. It was that way with Jin - you were clear on what you two were, what you could get out of him, and what you could give, something you made sure he also knew. It’s no different with Jungkook, you assured your best friend.

It’s a Sunday, and you’re bored out of your mind just lying in bed as your doctor prescribed. You’re overworking a little, she said, and you need to take your rest more seriously, as you’re now in your third trimester. Two months to go before you’re due, yet you feel like time is ticking by much slower as of late.

You find a cooking show that’s interesting enough for you and it’s midway through when you get a text from Jungkook, asking if you can be his lawyer if his neighbor decides to sue him.

“What did you do?” You say over the phone as you’d decided to just call.

“He insulted my friend’s dog and I got pissed. So I’ve been annoying the shit out of him.”

“Oh, poor guy,” you quip. “What have you been doing?”

“Well, it isn’t even that bad. I’d just have my music on all night and stay up late to play video games and take his usual parking slot. But he just banged on my door since I filled the garbage chute with beer bottles after I finally cleaned my apartment and he had his parrot and I told him it was ugly,” he rambles. “And he said he’d sue me for disruptive behavior and emotional distress. Can he do that?”

“Uh, yeah, if he’s willing to pay a lawyer and deal with your childish, annoying ass for longer since it’ll be time consuming,” you laugh. “Hasn’t he complained to your property management office?”

“He has, but I charmed them with donuts and cupcakes and now I’m their favorite tenant.”

“Well, he can also report them for bribery if he wants.”

“Hey, I’m not bribing!” Jungkook argues. “But he might actually be serious.”

“You can drop the I’m-friends-with-lawyers card,” you advise.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him the Atty. Kim ___ will represent me and if he doesn’t know who you are, he won’t know what’s coming for him.”

“Dramatic but okay,” you chuckle.

“You’d represent me right?”

“Sure, that would be fun. You may be insufferable sometimes but you’re still my friend.”

The prolonged silence is suddenly unbearable, and you miss the comfort you had just seconds ago. 

He breaks through the tension this time, noisily asking what you’re doing, with you scolding him for chewing while talking to someone on the phone.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Making a mental note that chewing sounds is another thing you don’t like. Anyway, so what did you say you were doing?”

“Just watching some cooking show. Sun-hee just left and everyone’s busy so I’m just at home and amusing myself because I’m so bored. I think this is my least favorite part about being pregnant.”

“I’m not busy though. Wanna do something?”

“Uh, okay, as long as it’s something that requires me not to move?”

He laughs at this. “Well, I planned on making cream cheese and garlic bread from scratch. Maybe I can bake you some at your place so you can watch an actual show or something.”

“Will you narrate the steps and entertain me?”

“I could,” he chuckles. 

“Okay, then. Please save the pregnant woman from insanity and come over.”

“On my way, madame.”

**

Jungkook was unsure if you had the equipment he needed, so he showed up to your apartment with a fourth of his kitchen in paper bags, excited to entertain you with making bread while you watched him.

He gets excited at just the thought of seeing you either way - whether it’s a quick morning visit at the cafe, delivering what he cooked or baked at your door when you’re craving something at his insistence, or buying groceries or other baby stuff - Jungkook likes being around you. 

He likes listening to your stories about your family and your friends; he likes watching you talk passionately about the cases you handle, about the people you’ve helped, about the goals you set for yourself that you keep achieving. He even enjoys it when you question him, when you tease him for the idiotic things he did when he was younger, or when you teach him how to do the laundry or make payments in an actual bank.

He’s found out that he likes making you laugh second, and annoying you greatly first. Your exasperated face and the way your eyebrows furrow in disbelief with the stupid things he says and the ridiculous stories he shares satisfies him to no end. He adores your laugh and the sound of your groan when you’ve had enough of his idiocy and his teasing. 

He also likes your amused look every time he makes something for you, whether it’s whipping up your coffee or baking something new, your widened eyes and the glimmer in them reveal the emotions that you don’t get to experience yourself as much - like the sense of awe, of innocence, of simplicity.

But he also really likes your tender face when he does something nice, like arranging your groceries in the cupboards or assembling a new bookshelf because the spacing of the shelves of the last one wasn’t to your liking. You’re calm and it’s like you’re able to breathe, like there’s some sense of order in your life again even if it’s not you directing it. 

You’re a blur sometimes - coming in and out of his life, with the bell ringing at the cafe to signify your arrival and then you’re gone, off to where you need to be, and he waits for when he hears from you again, thankful you spare him even the tiniest bit of you time. 

But some days, when your absence becomes too much, he wedges himself into your life and hopes you don’t shun him, and the elation he feels when you don’t makes all the times he didn’t see you become worth it. Just like today.

“So, cream cheese and garlic bread, you say?” You smile widely at him as he enters your apartment, offering to help him with his bags but he insists and walks towards your kitchen like it’s his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed eating it, might as well make it myself now,” he says, placing all his things on your kitchen counter. “I’m still trying to perfect my bread-baking skills but I’m getting there.”

You sit on the bar stool and watch him like a kid on Christmas. Jungkook takes all the ingredients, mixes what’s needed for the dough, and places the whole chunk of it on his working space, all the while narrating what he’s doing, with you merely humming in response. You watch him knead it with his palms, stretching it apart then folding it into layers, kneading it again, then checking its elasticity to make sure it’s like how he wants it. 

“I’m gonna keep doing this for like, half an hour,” he informs you, his eyes flitting at your amused face.

“Mhmm, it’s okay. I watch baking shows and it’s nice to see this up close,” you reply, scooting a little closer. “And aside from listening to Sun-hee’s med school shenanigans, this has been the most interesting part of my weekend.”

He bites back a huge grin and continues working, deciding to talk about different kinds of bread and what other types he wants to try making soon.

You try to listen to what he says but you’re too absorbed with what he’s doing, entranced with the way his hands move, as he rolls and folds and uses his flour-stained fingers to massage the dough. Your eyes mindlessly move up, the prominent veins in his forearms and the ink decorating one of them catching your attention, and you make the mistake of letting out the tiniest of moans at the sight of his biceps, taut and screaming to be noticed, as he continues his movements. You’ve no doubt that the dough kneading he does everyday is what makes his arms the way that they are.

His toned pecs don’t help either, with his dri-fit black shirt revealing enough of his muscles for you to be hypnotized by his movements.

“Hey, the magic’s happening down here,” he teases, and your eyes immediately flit to the dough that’s now one big fluffy ball, and you can already tell it’s gonna taste amazing. 

You don’t wanna look at him, knowing he’s got a cheeky smile on, having caught you blatantly staring at his muscles, but he continues with narrating the steps, now placing the dough in a bowl, which he seals with a plastic wrap to let it ferment for an hour. 

“So, no other interesting thing happened during your week?” He asks, propping his elbows against your kitchen counter, his eyes leveling with yours.

Aside from the usual drama as part of your job, you suddenly remember the email you received last Wednesday from the young woman you helped not long ago, a photo of her and her toddler with a thank you note after she’d retrieved the salary that her employer had been withholding from her. You tell Jungkook about her story and the few others you’ve helped, liking the way his face softens and his eyes crinkle when you share about them, some of the most important cases you’ve handled. 

An hour passes before you know it, and Jungkook takes the bowl to once again knead and delicately roll the dough on his palm, then cutting them into four pieces and making perfect little circular shapes. The image of his veined hands and the way his fingers expertly massages them will probably haunt you for days to come, and a part of you suddenly wishes you had him bring ready-made goods instead.

He pats them as they’re settled on the pan, letting them rise for a bit before they’re ready for the first round of baking, his proud face somehow leaving your heart thumping the way it was not long ago. 

He’s so natural; a perfectionist, too, you might add, as he assesses each one, making sure they’re all the same size, then patting them to make sure they’re as plump and smooth as they should be. It just sucks he’s as good-looking as he is, something you no longer mind admitting to yourself - you want to watch what he’s doing but you also want to watch him.

You’ve spent enough time with him to know how hypnotizing his eyes are and to know which dimples come out when he’s trying to be cute or when he’s trying to tease you. You’ve imprinted the image of his sharp jaw in your mind, even his playful smirk and his genuine smile. 

And with his physique mesmerizing you the way it is, with his rough and strong yet delicate hands and his sturdy chest and refined arms, you’re starting to think that you might actually have a problem.

He works on the cream cheese mixture then the garlic butter sauce as the bread bakes, getting into a debate with you on savory crepes and whether or not you’re really meant to cut a cupcake in half and eat it like a burger. You give him shit for eating his pizzas with pineapples, but you do agree that mint chocolate chip is a superior flavor, and those who hate it are just miserable people who don’t know perfection even if it's staring them in the face. You make sure to text Namjoon that statement and he responds with shut up, never speak to me again.

The oven dings and Jungkook takes the bread out, halving a piece to check if it’s the right density. The smell is heavenly, and it’s not even the final product yet, but you instinctively open your mouth when he holds out a piece for you to take, his hand moving mindlessly to feed you. His finger just barely grazes your lips and you feel a shiver down your spine at how close he’d gotten but somehow, it makes you more curious as to how it actually feels if he does get closer.

He’s always minded his distance - your arm only ever slightly brushing against his when you both walk through grocery aisles, or you playfully smacking it when he does his usual antics of annoying the shit out of you. 

But this feels so intimate - not just making food for someone, which you realize he’s been doing so much already - but actually feeding someone. And you hate that it felt so natural; you hate even more that you enjoyed it. 

“Good?” He asks, a soft smile on his face when you’d expected it to be cheekier.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, not wanting to say anything more.

He continues on, slicing the bread, piping the cream cheese mixture in, then pouring the garlic sauce over it before putting it back in the oven to bake again. 

The scent wafts through your apartment and you didn’t think this could conjure so many images in your mind - mornings of freshly baked bread and coffee, lazy afternoons of pastries and tea, nights of biscuits and hot chocolate as you watch the world fly by with your daughter in your hands. You shake your head at the silhouette of a bulky and tattooed man and his child-like smile and strong arms cradling you and your little one.

This can’t happen, you remind yourself. You can’t let it.

You bury the thought and busy yourself with making orange juice to accompany the bread. With a tray in hand, you and Jungkook head to the balcony, the view of the Han River not far away, and you smile in comfort at such a simple day, choosing to block out the dangerous thoughts you had about him earlier. 

You don’t recall ever spending an afternoon like this - in your most comfortable clothes, enjoying something delicious, and in the presence of one Jeon Jungkook who crashed into your life, seemingly unimportant, but who now has become your constant in ways you never thought possible.

You’re used to days that never end. Between work and your pro-bono services to single moms who need help in some way, your mind never really takes a break and your body never really rests. You’re only taking a break and resting now because you’re forced to, because you need to - you can’t risk anything bad happening to you nor the baby with just two months left of the pregnancy. 

You promised the little one the moment she came to be that you were going to do everything to make sure that things would be easy for her, and if you have to force your life to be still for a moment so she can take the breather that she needs, then that’s what you’re going to do.

It just so happens that there’s a man next to you, somehow forcing his life to be still, too.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you turn to him, your eyes searching his face for something. “I’m not used to it.”

“Neither am I,” he faces you, chuckling. 

He’s dressed in his usual comfortable clothes, eyes soft and wandering out into the city, and drinking freshly-squeezed juice, which, he’d said one time, is a rarity for him because if it’s not water he’s drinking, it’s definitely beer or scotch.

“Outside of work, I have a lot of idle time but there’s never any quiet,” he continues. “I play games, workout, or try on recipes with music blaring in the background because it helps me focus, even with all the things going on in my head. And right now, things feel suspended, like I can actually pause and look around and savor what I’ve made and just be still, you know? Like I can just be.”

“Funny how I’m feeling the exact same thing,” you smile, turning back to the view before you. “I guess you just had to shut up for once for both of us to appreciate things like this.”

“Yah! Don’t ruin our moment,” he laughs. “But you do seem calm. It’s nice to see you like this. You always have a serious face in the mornings in the cafe and your eyes are glued to your iPad. And then when we’re out shopping, I can just tell your mind is going a mile a minute with what you’re going to buy and how it’s going to fit the room or what you’re going to cook it with.”

“Reading me without my permission, Jungkook?” You playfully cock your eyebrow. 

“I guess I’m just quite observant when it comes to you.”

He holds your gaze, and you find yourself getting lost in them. You don’t like it when you don’t have the upper hand, when you become speechless, when your mind goes hazy and you’re unable to process things, and especially when you find yourself wanting to give up control just a little bit, if only for you to live in this moment just a while longer.

But you snap yourself out of it as quickly as you let yourself fall into it. 

“Well, that makes you one of many,” you smirk. 

He knows, and he’s frustrated that that hurt him more than he wanted it to. Because much as he’s tried his best to keep all his feelings in, it’s been increasingly difficult as he sees what both of you could be, especially after today when he’d never felt so content as he is now - just you and him and the world below. 

Yet he keeps standing close, willing to be whatever you need him to be, as long as he gets to be with you. So he just laughs along and lets you have the last say on this one. 

He’s about to praise himself for your obvious delight in what he’s baked when there’s a call, indicating a package or a visitor. You excuse yourself and it’s not long after when the doorbell rings, and you squeal at the arrival of the rugs and linens you ordered online, the last remaining pieces of the nursery you’ve been waiting for.

Jungkook walks towards you, briefly reveling in your excited face, before he goes ahead and helps you out. It takes about an hour to get things fixed, as you couldn’t decide which ones to use first, since you’d purchased more than what you need just in case. 

The room looks beautiful, just as how you envisioned it to be. It’s neutral and calming, conducive to sleep for you and the baby, and you can’t wait for you to spend time here, reading her stories, trying but failing to sing her lullabies, cradling her to sleep, feeding her, and telling her every night just how much you love her. 

You get lost in all those moments that are to come, with Jungkook next to you seemingly doing the same, as he compliments each area and narrates what he imagines you’d be doing. And it’s in that moment that you feel her kick - once, twice, then a few more times. 

“Ooh,” you yelp, giggling as you palm your belly. “Someone’s excited.” 

Jungkook turns towards you. “She’s kicking?”

“Yeah, here,” you say, taking his hand and guiding it to where you feel the little human is making her presence felt. “Do you feel it?”

Jungkook lets you take the lead, but he eliminates the distance as you tug him closer. His eyes follow your hand as it directs his, the image of it causing his mind to fantasize all the other moments this could happen, the feel of your skin causing a shiver down his spine. 

His gaze settles on you not long after, your excited smile making his heart leap at how beautiful you are, and how you chose to share this moment with him, letting him do something so intimate like this, letting him in in a way you haven’t done before, sharing with him a part of you that not just anyone gets the privilege to see. 

“She can’t keep still like her mother,” he laughs, eyes moving back to your belly. 

He’d expected you to say something, but he’s met with silence. He sees your hand loosen its grip on his, your fingers grazing his own so delicately, and he wishes you’d hold him again. He could hear and see your chest heaving, and he’s somehow afraid to see what your face is like, but he forces himself to look at you. 

Your eyes are focused on him, your lips parted at the sight before you. It had been natural for you to take his hand and let him feel the baby kicking. The moments she had usually happened when you were in bed or at work, with no one else around to feel it. Now Jungkook is here, a funny game the universe is playing, you think, and he looks so happy experiencing this with you. 

You hadn’t realized you’d pulled him so closely, and as he looks at you, you can feel his warm breath hitting your skin, his chest also now heaving at how intimate yet tense this feels. You see him eye your lips, and you visibly swallow, the part of you wanting him to kiss you unyielding. His hand slowly ascends, gently cupping your cheek and you let him, your eyes closing as you savor his touch on your skin, warm yet soft as you expected.

He whispers your name before you feel it, his tender lips against yours, unsure yet wanting, hoping you’ll let him do more.

You kiss him back, your mind going hazy at the feel of him like this, wanting more but none of it at the same time. You feel his tongue licking your lips, and it’s right when your phone rings, breaking you out of the spell that you willingly gave into, something you regret immediately.

You place your hand on his chest and gently push him back, his body following as you do. You turn away, afraid to look at him.

Even from your side, Jungkook could see the uneasiness and remorse in your eyes, the sudden uncertainty that wasn’t there seconds ago. Your mouth opens, and he readies himself for what you’ll say, and with his feigned bravery, he internally breaks as you utter the words that would pain him in ways he didn’t expect. 

And it wouldn’t be the last.

“You have to go, Jungkook.”

It doesn’t seem like the end, yet somehow he feels like it is. But he follows, as he always does when it comes to you. He doesn’t say anything more. He just quietly packs his things as you stay rooted in your spot, the phone continuously ringing, stopping, then ringing again. 

The door shuts, the sound akin to his heart breaking. And he doesn’t recall ever feeling pain like this in his entire life.

**

You sit on your bed, doing the breathing exercises your yoga instructor taught you when you start to feel anxious. But you’re getting impatient and your racing heart isn’t calming down. 

You recall what your therapist had you do several times - naming things you hear, you smell, you feel, and you see. 

It doesn’t help, though, because all you find yourself hearing, smelling, feeling, and seeing, is Jungkook. His infectious laughter ringing in your home, his garlic and orange juice scent on your skin, the taste and feel of his lips on yours, the sight of his dejected eyes for that brief moment you looked at him, and his retreating form, walking away from you like you’d told him to do.

Your tongue licks your quivering lips, your teeth biting into the flesh as if desperate to taste him again, because much as you want to deny it, it’s what you want. You want his hand on you, the way it was when he felt your baby kick and when it moved to cup your cheek, pulling you close so his mouth could meet yours, the gentle yet needy way he kissed you clouding your mind again like it did just an hour ago.

It felt so good, so right, and utterly scary once you realized how easy it was for you to fall into it. For once, you weren’t thinking, you were feeling, and for a decade of your life, you’d been taught that once your emotions start to control you, that’s when your downfall happens. 

And you’d been so close. You almost completely gave in. You almost had him hold you; almost had him break down all your defenses and enter your heart to lay permanently in one of the spaces you’d left unoccupied for years. 

You almost wanted to keep him, hold him yourself and not let go. You almost wanted more, to share in the life you’d painstakingly created for yourself and your daughter. You almost wanted him to be there with you and the little one inside you. You almost wanted him to love you.

And you had to push him away before any of those almosts became real, because the last thing you want is to give away the control you have over your life, afraid you’d crash if you shared it with him. 

Your phone pings and you glance at the messages coming in, and you can’t help the one tear that falls at the sight of his name on your screen.

[From: Jungkook - BS Chef] I’m so sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to cross a line or make you feel uncomfortable

[From: Jungkook - BS Chef] you have to believe me, please

[From: Jungkook - BS Chef] I hope I didn’t screw everything up

**

The days turn into weeks, and you convince yourself that it’s easy to forget that the afternoon in your apartment even happened. Sometimes you bring yourself to believe that you’d just dreamt it all up, that you only imagined kissing Jungkook, that he’d been the one to say he had to go, that it hadn’t been you who pushed him out because he’d done something you didn’t want - make him part of your plan.

But everytime you fall into that alternate reality you want so badly to be real, a message from him is all it takes to remind you that that Sunday indeed happened, and you’d been the one who let him walk away, and you’re the one still keeping him out, even if the Jungkook-shaped hole in your life is telling you that you miss him, and there’s nothing more you want than to hear his silly stories and hear his laugh again. 

After leaving his daily messages unread, they stopped for a while, and you hated how your heart hurt at the sudden absence you’d forced him to make. 

But they started coming again, the apologies now turned to asking how you are, what food you’re craving, if you bought the baby grooming set you’ve been eyeing. It’s as if that day didn’t happen, like everything between you is still the way it was, and what hurt more was seeing the smiley faces and winks disappear, the messages getting shorter, the frequency, less. 

It’s exactly 3 weeks later when you feel his facade completely break down at the messages that light up your phone. They remain unread, and whatever heartbreak you felt you’d seen on his face that day doesn’t match the words you see on the notifications on your screen.

I miss you.

Please let me see you.

This hurts so much, I don’t know what to do.

**

You enter your office the next morning and reflexively sigh, as what you’ve been doing every morning the past few weeks. It’s your last week at work before your maternity leave, and you’re glad that the pile of documents on your desk didn’t increase over the weekend, as what you expected.

You proceed with checking the files you need to review and the others you need to endorse, mentally calculating how much time you’ll need for each one so you could make it to your meeting with Jin in 3 hours. 

He’d been the one having separation anxiety, and he’s been looking to you to make sure he’s got all bases covered and functioning well until you get back.

You don’t notice that you’d been staring at one particular case for longer than intended, and it’s the knock on the door that gets you out of your seemingly perpetual haze. You put on your brave face, thinking it’s one of the associates needing to get their case or document reviewed, and you slightly smile at the presence of Yoongi at the door, his worried eyes looking back at you.

While you and Jin butt heads because you’re very much alike in terms of temper and ego, you and Yoongi bicker a lot because you’re two faces of the same coin - he thinks a lot but in a quiet way; you think a lot and are loud about it. He trusts in his capabilities so much that makes him laid-back; you trust in yours so much that makes you constantly going, moving, arguing, winning. But it’s that sameness that makes him know immediately when something is wrong, and he doesn’t even have to ask what it’s about; you both feel things internally after all.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, you know?” He mumbles, setting a folder in front of you.

“I know. Doesn’t mean I want to talk about it,” you respond, signing the papers.

“I’m here if you want to,” he reminds you.

“I know that, too.”

You give him a faint smile. It’s the most you could give him, you think, after how quietly supportive he’s been.

He nods then turns around after getting what he needs from you.

“Min,” you say, eyeing the coffee on your desk, the Blue Side logo on the takeout cup causing the slight quiver in your voice. 

“Thanks for my drink. And for getting it for me the last 3 weeks.”

He faces you again with the same comforting eyes that he’d given you all these years - when you thought you wouldn’t place in the top of the bar exams, when you lost your first case, when you first let down a client’s family, when you had your first heartbreak. And now, your second.

Yoongi doesn’t go to the cafe every morning like you, but that first Monday when you arrived at work without your usual energy and an empty hand, he knew. It wasn’t just how your voice cracked over the phone the night before, or the way your face dropped when Jimin had mentioned Jungkook’s name; it was, more heartbreakingly, the way you cradled your belly without the smile you’d always have. 

Yoongi had been going to the Blue Side since then, knowing you can’t be without their coffee and the occasional pastry, and he’d learned that Jungkook has been taking the closing shifts, unable to stay awake in the mornings or even midday. 

“You can’t be without coffee, even if it’s decaffeinated,” he shrugs. “Can’t have our best lawyer be without her favorite things around here.”

“Careful, Min. Jin might hear you,” you tease.

“Nah, he’d agree with me.”

“Which part?”

“Everything. And that whatever it is you’re going through, you’re gonna be okay.”

You manage a smile. You know Yoongi’s not just saying that as part of some script that friends tell their friends. He’s saying it because it’s the same thing you’d told him when he took a week off from work without telling any of you where he went, wanting to disappear for a while after his grandfather died. You eventually drove to Daegu that weekend and found him in their favorite basketball court, crying all alone. 

He’s saying it because he truly means it, because during the darkest points of your life, he’d been the one at the end of the tunnel, reaching out for your hand when you were so close to making it out. He’d seen you get through everything, even if he wasn’t right there with you. 

Nothing else needs to be said, as he gives an encouraging smile then heads out the door. And for the first time in so long, you feel a little bit lighter, like you’re given even just the shortest moment to breathe. 

That is, until Jimin enters your room.

You’re used to his bluntness, his cheekiness, and his angelic smile and kindness. You’re not used to a Jimin who can’t even look you in the eye, as he sits in front of you and hands you the contract you had him draft not long ago for a corporate client you brought in. 

Skimming through the first few pages, you know it’s good; he’d incorporated the comments you gave the last time you met about this. You don’t doubt his capabilities, even if he’d been a little anxious taking the lead with something you’d assigned to him.

You’d spent countless sleepless nights working on cases together, a few of them ending in one or both of you drunk, crying, or laughing incessantly. But for the first time, being around him is unnerving, especially when you feel his eyes on you when yours are on the document, and once again, it’s getting a little harder to breathe.

The past few weeks have been so hectic, and you haven’t had time to even check in with your usual group at work to catch up. But you know that Jimin knows; how much, you’re unsure. But he’d always spoken about Jungkook with so much affection, like a little brother, and you’d understand the protectiveness that Jimin might feel over the younger man. 

You finish going through the contract, satisfied with the final output. You express your approval and hand him back the folder. He stands up and you go back to one of the contracts you’re supposed to sign off on, but you feel him looking at you, his fidgeting echoing in the quiet of your room.

“Whatever you wanna say, Park, don’t,” you warn. 

A 50-50, really, because half the time he listens to you, half the time he doesn’t.

Today is one of the times he doesn’t.

“Jungkook’s a really great guy, ___, and he’s really sorry,” he says bravely. “He’s really into you and—”

“Park, I said—”

“And I know it isn’t my place and you can’t fire me for this so even if you don’t wanna hear it, I’m gonna say it. Because much as you’re my friend, so is he. And if you can’t give him a chance to be with you, you can at least give him a reason why you can’t. He deserves that much. You, of all people, should know that.”

He shuffles out of the room, the closing of the door signaling that it’s safe, and you let one, two, three tears slide down your face. It’s all you’ll let yourself do for now. It’s all you’ll allow yourself to feel.

**

“Your filling’s burnt,” Dea points out, as she watches helplessly at the man who's been looking more like a zombie than an actual human being the past few weeks. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook grunts, tossing the apple mixture into the trash then grabbing the butter for a do-over. 

He looks at the bowl where there should be more apples, irritated that it’s now empty.

“That was your third try, Jungkook. Half the fruits we prepared are now gone,” Dea states, though not sounding angry.

“Shit, don’t tell Hobi,” he says, huffing in frustration at his terrible performance at the cafe lately. 

He’s glad that Dea is there to hold the fort for him, otherwise he’d be lucky to still have a job, nevermind that the owner is his friend.  

“I’m sure he knows,” she tells him. “He takes inventory and sees you walk in here like you’ve got the entire world on your shoulders. You’re not exactly a hard guy to read, you know?”

Jungkook sighs, anger at himself building up again for how much he’s let himself go the past weeks. It’s not easy to remain functional and present when his heart is aching in places he never thought they would. He’s unable to sleep at night, tossing and turning and thinking of all the ways he screwed up. Not even his games interest him, nor the dozen other things he has in his apartment. 

The nights are painstakingly long, and he’d asked for the closing shift because the only time he falls asleep is when his body has given up after being awake during the ungodly hours, and that’s usually mid-morning. He gets up in the afternoon, whips up something edible, then heads to the cafe to close up shop until midnight. 

He doesn’t mind it, as the customers during those hours are also too tired to converse, and he keeps himself in the kitchen, preparing the batches of dough for the next day’s service, barely talking to his other colleagues who’ve been trying their hardest to cheer him up. 

He wonders how you do it. But then again, you’re the one who did the ghosting - you may be doing fine and happy and going about your fast-paced and busy and very adult life as if you hadn’t done anything, as if you hadn’t kissed him back then pushed him away. 

Jungkook has been replaying that day over and over again in his mind - how you agreed to have him over, how you amusingly watched him bake bread then delighted over its taste. He remembers every detail of your calm and relaxed face as you both sat outside your balcony, watching the world go by. 

He felt still then, and he knew you felt the same. And like a dream come true, he felt you close, as you had him cradle your belly, pulling him and he kissed you, too and you kissed him back. You sighed right before that, the kind you take after a long day and you’re finally comfortable in bed. 

For a moment, he felt that’s what he was to you - the one you come home to, that you settle into after you’d left the craziness of the world out the door, the one you collapse to when things get too much. 

And he wanted it, all of it. 

It almost felt like so did you. 

He also almost wished he didn’t do what he did, so then you’d still be around, and he’d still see your smile, hear your laugh, watch you do superhuman things while still looking like the most beautiful woman in the world. 

But then again, if it hadn’t happened, then maybe he wouldn’t be this sure about you, because after that kiss, your lips are the only ones he ever wants to know. 

It’s been over three weeks and he still hasn’t heard from you. He’d panicked and sent all the possible apologies he could that would make you believe he really was sorry. Even if you returned the act, he still crossed a line. The last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable, for you to feel that he doesn’t respect you; the last thing he wants is for you to think he doesn’t care about what you want and what you’ve built for yourself. 

When he realized that you probably hated seeing the same words pop on your screen over and over again - because he knows you; you’d never not read any text message, even if you don’t open it and reply - he resorted to his usual self. 

He just wanted to know if you were okay. You’re nearing your 8th month and he could imagine you feeling anxious about it. You’d be finding it hard to let go of your work and assigned cases, but you’d need to because you can’t get stressed and risk it affecting your baby. 

He could swallow his pride, apologize profusely, but he also wants to know if you’ve got everything prepared. You tend to panic when it isn’t, and he’d take an angry version of you over a stressed and scared one any day. Especially if he’s not around, unable to give whatever help you might need. 

But even his questions were left unanswered, and it took a particularly difficult weekend and a tear-filled Sunday night with Jimin for Jungkook to crack, and that evening, he said the words out loud to someone, the same words that have been ringing in his head. 

He misses you. He wants to see you. Every part of him hurts and he doesn’t know what to do. 

He wouldn’t go to your office nor your apartment. He wouldn’t badger your friends or family to get you to talk to him. You don’t like being told what to do, that much he knows, and like all the times before, he’d just wait until you decide you want to give him a portion of your time. 

It’s later that night, just as he’s cleaning the mess he made at the kitchen after having burned another batch of filling, that he gets the message he'd been waiting but also dreading to receive.

[From: Boss Queen Atty. Kim 😍😍] We need to talk. 

**

It’s unusually cool for a summer afternoon. It’s aesthetically a beautiful day, Jungkook thinks, as he briefly looks up at the pale blue and glowing sky, not minding having to walk the few blocks to your office, as you’d asked him last night to. 

He takes the elevator to the rooftop - a quiet, open space of the mid-rise building where your firm is located - and his breathing slows down at the thought of finally seeing you after 3 weeks. It felt so empty, so uninspiring, so dull, too still yet too loud without your presence at the same time. 

There are benches in the corners, meant for office workers who want to take a break from the hustle and bustle indoors only to get drowned in the hustle and bustle of the outdoors, as the view of downtown Seoul, somewhat a relief. 

Jungkook has been here twice. The first time was because he finally perfected the strawberry shortcake you love and just had to give it to you right away; the second time was because the cheesecake recipe he’d been working on - his favorite - finally made it to the Blue Side menu and he just had to make you try it. 

Both visits were quick. You didn’t want him going to your office but he teased you enough with photos that your sweet tooth compelled you to make him come, so he did. Sometimes he lets himself think that the way your eyes lit up those times were because of him, and not because of the sweets you were getting.

He has a feeling this is gonna be a quick one, too, but he’s unsure about your eyes lighting up this time. 

Uncertain how this meeting is going to go, he walks over to you quietly, savoring the sight of you in your loose, ruffled dress, hands cradling your belly as you always do. 

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, he can tell. He’s seen that face a few times - in the cafe as you looked out to the busy street, and on your balcony as you took in the view of the river. Those times it seemed that you were being still; you did say that you always found it difficult to live in the present and just savor the moment because you were always thinking, planning, envisioning. 

He doesn’t know about now, though. Are you thinking about what you're having for dinner tonight? Planning about your weekend and the rest of your maternity leave? Are you envisioning your daughter’s first steps, first words, the first argument she’ll win? 

Is he going to be a part of all that?

The last thought causes a crack in his heart that he worries you heard, as you turn around to face him, your brief smile falling instantly.

“How long have you been standing there?” You ask.

“Not long,” he says, walking towards you.

You give him that look, the one that says you don’t believe him, the one that disarms him, the one that always makes him tell you the truth.

“A while,” he corrects himself, his brief smile also falling instantly. “You look good. Are you feeling okay? Is she doing okay?”

“Yeah, we’re doing fine. Thank you,” you respond, biting your lips. “I appreciate you coming over. I wasn’t sure when your shift started so, uh, yeah. I appreciate it.”

You’re rarely ever this nervous nor this polite to him, and it makes him sick to his stomach. 

He feigns a smile this time and hands you the cranberry and black tea and mini macaroons he prepared before coming here. 

You hesitantly take them, hands gripping the paper bag, trying that breathing exercise you can’t seem to quite perfect. But you mentally push yourself to go through this. You’d spent the past 3 days planning what you were going to tell him, with Jimin’s statement at your office last Monday the slap in the face you’d needed to finally give Jungkook what he’d been needing, what he’d been silently asking for, what you know will break his heart. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been responding,” you finally say, the silence suffocating you in this open-air space. “I just didn’t know what to say after what happened that day.”

It’s the only reason you can give; you don’t think that being scared is good enough these days. No one lives fully by being scared, and up until a few weeks ago, that’s what you’ve been doing - claiming things for yourself, working hard and taking what you deserve. 

But this is different. Jungkook is different. You didn’t work hard for him. You didn’t ask for him. You didn’t prepare your life for him. 

“I’m sorry I blew up your phone,” he manages a chuckle, not wanting to acknowledge your reason for leaving him in the dark for weeks. “So is that why you asked me to see you? Do you already know what you want to say?”

He’s being brave, but he doesn’t know for how long he can keep up the act.

You see him try to hold it together and you ache for him, because you’re trying so hard, too. 

You take a while before you speak again, wanting this image of him in his dark jeans and plaid polo over a white shirt to be one you hold in the nook of your heart for when things get too much and you want a laugh, or to feel comfort when you’re scared that you’re gonna fail, or to feel like you can do anything when you start to doubt yourself. 

You don’t want to talk about that day, nor that kiss, nor the aftermath of it. You want to talk about how he feels.

“Jungkook, do you like me? Be honest.”

“Yes,” he says, like the punctuation mark to your last word. “But you made it clear from the beginning that you just want to be friends and I’ve always respected that.”

“You have,” you nod. “But you’ll always want more, won’t you?”

“Yes,” he responds, guiltily this time, feeling like it’s a betrayal of your trust. “And that’s because you’re seriously the smartest, warmest, most brilliant and beautiful person I’ve ever met and I just… if being friends is all we can be, that’s enough for me, honestly. Because you make me laugh and smile and feel seen and heard and I enjoy every moment I spend with you,” he rambles, walking closer to you now. “And even if I’ll always want more because, well, I like you, a whole lot, it’s okay and—”

“And then what if I start wanting more, too?” 

The words come out like a confession you regret, one you feel too weak to keep in, but it’s the reason, your reason, and for you, that’s the only thing that matters.

His doe-eyes stare back at you, wonder and fear condensed in the prettiest orbs you’ve ever seen, and you worry you’ll miss this too much, too. 

“Then that’s great, ___,” he stammers. “I mean, do you?”

“It doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I can’t.”

“You’re the last person who’d ever say they can’t want what they want,” he huffs. “We can just go with this, with whatever you’re feeling for me. You don’t have to know it, you don’t have to know what you want yet. We can just see where it goes,” he begs.

“But I don’t do that, Jungkook,” your voice raises. “I don’t just see where things go. I don’t just wait to know things. I’m not wired that way,” you exclaim. “I don’t wanna hurt you even more than I already am. I don’t want to lead you on even more than I already did. I don’t want that burden. I don’t want to keep thinking about what my actions mean to you or to me. I don’t wanna worry about what you feel all the time. I…” you sigh. 

You look him in the eyes, knowing they’ll be haunting you for longer than you’d want, but you need him to know that you’re not turning back from this anymore. You cradle your belly, the act always giving you comfort, joy, pride. And for a brief moment, you let your heart crack because of it.  

“This little one is my priority. Everything I’ve been doing and will be doing is for her. All my time and my energy and my love, it’s all for her. Just her. Because I planned her, Jungkook,” you breathe out. “But I didn’t plan you.”

You see him bite his lips then clench his jaw, his fists, and his body tensing. You look away before you see him hurt even more.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t see you anymore.”

And just as you easily walked into his life, you walk out of it just the same.

Jungkook stands there, his back to your retreating form, waiting until he no longer hears your footsteps, knowing he’d be tempted to run after you and ask you to give him a chance. He knows better than to try to convince you to change your mind, and with your due date coming up soon, he doesn’t want to add to the stress that you’re already under, having to deal with what he’s feeling. 

When the coast is clear, he turns around and starts walking back to the cafe. He goes through his shift without a hitch, managing a smile and laugh with the customers here and there, and then he heads back to his apartment in the evening where he’s finally able to breathe. 

There’s a big hole in his heart in your absence, and he clutches his chest at the pain he didn’t think he could ever feel. 

Laying in bed until the early morning, he thinks about all the things he’s come to like about you - your laugh, your furrowed brows when you’re angry, the cocked ones when you’re dismantling someone on the witness stand, your tender lips that he wants more of. 

He doesn’t know if it’s better that he knows what it tastes like because now, he’d have more of you to miss. 

He knows one thing for sure, though - he doesn’t regret a single moment he’d spent with you because then, he got to experience the beauty of having someone like you in his life.

You’re a still day sometimes - like that afternoon at your apartment when life seemed so simple and slow, the silence you shared comforting and assuring. It’s like those weekends of walking through every aisle of the grocery side-by-side, your eyes lighting up at everything you see; it’s like your moments of calm when you cradle your belly, your smile the softest he’s ever seen, and you’d turn to him, as if you wanted him there, as if you were thankful and glad that he was.

You’re a hurricane sometimes - going into your office with your demands and your plans; marching through the courtroom and winning cases and breaking glass ceilings; breezing through life as you achieve one goal at a time… Like a storm he didn’t expect that crashed into his life, damaging those around you and what’s inside of him. As if it hurts that he cares, that he wants you, that you want him, too.

You came and left with his heart in your hands. You’d torn it into pieces, and you’d done it so certainly. 

##

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[my-mt-heart]

Season 11 Emotional Arc Breakdown: Carol Peletier

From fixing everything to realizing it’s not enough

We all know Carol’s story so far this season leaves much to be desired, and it isn’t just a matter of screen time. What’s frustrating is the lack of POV. We don’t get to follow her as often as we should, instead having to rely on other characters’ stories to clue us into what she’s doing and feeling. She’s essentially in our blind spot, relegated to a supporting role, but like I said, I’m not here to talk about what’s missing. I want to focus on what we have and what we have for Carol is…also heartbreaking. Ironically enough, I think the character’s emotional experience falls in line with the viewers’ in the sense that she feels trapped in the dark, trying to find light in what she can accomplish for others. 

11A: Condensed again because I still can’t find the energy to do a play by play. Fresh off the rude awakening from Daryl, Carol persistently tries to “fix what she broke,” including a devastated Alexandria in the aftermath of the whisperer war she believes she started. It also means finding Connie, whose fate she takes responsibility for. Not to say these issues aren’t worth fixing in their own right – we can plainly see the relief in Carol’s eyes when Connie shows no sign of resentment toward her – but in Carol’s mind, this is her best shot of fixing things with Daryl. Or rather, for him. 

11x09: It’s that sense of fixing things, not an absence of deeper feelings for Daryl, prompting the smile on Carol’s face when she observes Daryl’s and Connie’s reunion. She’s at peace knowing he gets to reconnect with someone who can make him happy in a way she assumes she can’t. Because while it may be in her power to fix everything around her, there’s nothing she can do to fix herself. She’s still broken inside and someone as broken as her can’t expect to obtain happiness. She can only watch it play out from the sidelines, and in theory that should be enough to fill the void. 

11x10: Perhaps tired of playing pretend, Carol’s not going all in at the Commonwealth the way she did when she first arrived at Alexandria. She’ll bake the cookies, she’ll put on the apron, but she isn’t changing out of the plaid shirt she wore while trying to survive. It’s possible Carol didn’t want to relocate in the first place, but at least it allows her to remain close to Daryl and the people she cares about without getting too close.

She’s living on her own because after Henry, she can’t trust herself to be a maternal figure to Judith and RJ and she most certainly can’t form a nuclear family with Daryl. She isn’t wearing his bracelet anymore, a visual sign that she doesn’t want him to be tied down to her. From their friendly, but tense exchange, it’s apparent they still haven’t talked through any of the issues raised at the cabin and maybe on some level, Carol doesn’t think they need to anymore. As far as she’s concerned, Daryl is set up to have a good life and she needs to give him space to live it. If she inserts herself too much, her biggest fear of losing Daryl might come to fruition considering her long history of spreading pain and death like a damn virus. But unbeknown to her, inserting herself is exactly what she’s doing. 

Carol mentioning to Daryl that she used to read a lot of tabloids, going as far as to call Pamela Milton classy, reveals a toxic understanding of what’s “better.” Hence why Carol also gives Daryl an impressed look when they learn about Connie’s successful career as a journalist. She’s putting her on a pedestal, using Connie’s “higher status” to convince Daryl that she is a good match for him. Carol succeeds as far as getting Daryl to stare after Connie as she walks off. 

But much like the glamor she attributes to celebrity life, the romance she sees between Daryl and Connie is a construct of her imagination stemming from negative feelings toward herself. At one point, she even jokes to Ezekiel that she is “a lady of high caliber” to which he replies “the highest.” The look on her face afterward is one of dejection. She doesn’t really believe it, so why would a good judge of character like Daryl ever believe it? As long as she thinks Daryl is better off, she’ll keep using Connie as a buffer, containing her own longing that’s communicated in the lingering shot of Carol watching Daryl head off to work. 

Convinced Daryl doesn’t need her, Carol turns her attention to helping Ezekiel because despite their failed marriage, she ultimately still cares about him and wants to support him. For her, that support translates to striking a deal with Lance Hornsby to get him bumped up on the surgery list. It just goes to show that while she may not be a journalist or a politician, Carol is more than capable of doing important things if only in her own way… 

11x11: …not unlike Lance. He essentially acts as her mirror, telling her that he does better “on the outside,” working behind the scenes and using back channels in order to provide for his people. Though Carol always has her guard up and is basically just using Lance to get something she needs, it’s understandable that she wants to believe his intentions are good. Why? Because that validates her own actions, especially the ones that have been ill-received in the past. When Lance arrests the poppy farmer for abuse, something Carol herself is no stranger to, it gives her a reason to trust him. For the time being. 

11x12: Unlike Lance though, Carol doesn’t seek recognition for the tough decisions she makes. She can take backlash in stride, which we see when Ezekiel accuses her of cheating the system in order to get him the surgery he needs. She’s able to keep her emotions in check because the way she sees it, she’s doing the right thing again, adamant that Ezekiel’s life will make a difference in so many others’ in the future. She’s well aware it goes against Ezekiel’s moral code, but whereas her argument with Daryl compelled her to make amends, she’s not interested in reconciling that difference with Ezekiel. It isn’t his judgment that Carol can’t live with. It’s Daryl’s. 

11x14: Evidently giving Daryl space is no match for her desire to be close to him. She greets him outside the station with that high-pitched “funny running into you here” tone despite knowing he works there, also rocking a bold new color and a new hairdo. In the same way the aesthetical changes capture our attention, they’re also meant to capture Daryl’s. She misses him. She wants him to notice her and perhaps putting the responsibility on him helps her maintain the illusion that she isn’t smothering him. What she doesn’t expect however, as per her inquisitive “yeah?” is that she was already on his mind as much as he was on hers. 

When he doesn’t show up for their lunch date, Carol doesn’t waste time entertaining simple explanations. She knows Daryl is a man of his word and if he doesn’t stick to it, then something must be wrong. As always, she is the one who has to bring him back to where he belongs. 

Having to rescue Daryl from a pointless heist and then watch Mercer execute two of his own men sets off alarm bells in Carol’s head. She trusts that Lance can help put a stop to the clear corruption plaguing the Commonwealth, only to realize that he’s part of the problem too. He shatters the hope she had for his leadership and especially for the chance her people had at a fresh start. Feeling that urgency to protect them, she easily slips into a disguise she’s worn countless times, telling Lance what he wants to hear in order to keep him in her pocket. But as soon as she turns her back to him, she takes it off again, clearly calculating her next move. 

11x15: While her wheels are surely turning, Carol temporarily steps in as Judith’s and RJ’s guardian. She’s a little closed-off around them, still attempting to maintain boundaries while also wanting to be there for them and for Daryl when they need her. Curiously, she’s wearing a ring on her left ring finger, the placement of it very reminiscent of the dream Carol had in 10x03 wherein she expressed a yearning for normalcy. It could be that Carol is trying to recreate that normalcy with Daryl and the kids, but only in Daryl’s absence so as not to disrupt his own sense of normalcy. It could also be a visual representation of Carol's headspace as she's faced with the choice of rekindling her relationship with Ezekiel. The stone is blue, a stark contrast to Ezekiel's ring which had a red stone. Thus, she's emotionally committed to somebody else, somebody who's a stark contrast to Ezekiel himself. 

She dismisses all of Ezekiel’s efforts to reconnect, vaguely stating how busy she is with her “new job” with Lance and how she needs to “fix things.” She’s not looking to make Ezekiel complicit in whatever she may be planning, nor is she looking to join Ezekiel on his personal quest to rebuild his future. She does get pulled into the underground clinic eventually, proud that Ezekiel has found his light, but it is ultimately *his* light. It’s not the key to her own happiness despite what he may hope. No matter how many times Ezekiel finally shows Carol the gratitude she deserves for saving his life or how much he admires her strength for carrying so much darkness, it doesn’t make her feel better. She doesn’t want to exist in the darkness, but she doesn’t know where her light is if it even exists (Of course we know where it is: “Follow my light.”)

By telling Carol she makes the light, Zeke is basically encouraging her to go after what she wants. She has the power to bring others happiness, which means she has the power to make herself happy too. The question remains though, will she actively try now or does she need a hard nudge from the right person? I state that as a question because it seems like Carol is still behind Daryl on her emotional journey. She may be more conscious of what she wants than she was at the end of season 10, but we have yet to see a significant evolution. She’s been stuck in one headspace pretty much all season, believing her desires are unattainable, believing she hasn’t earned the right to choose. It’ll be a huge relief to see her finally get out of that in the final block. 

To be continued (again). 

[dodo-begone]

The Mistake has Arrived

Pairing: Yan!DSMP!Techno, Yan!Ranbob!, Yan!Ranbutler x Reader

Request: Do you do continuations? If so could you make a part 2 with for the "mistakes were made" (aka the pregnancy one)? Like how they would act when the child is like actually born and causing mischief?? Please and thank you!

Summary: It seems that, after the baby arrives, things seem to change. It's hard to describe because things didn't change much yet at the same time managed to be the complete opposite of what they were before. Or maybe you hadn't noticed these things before. Who knows.

Word count: 2.1k

Warning: yandere, nsfw joke at the end of Ranbob’s section

Part 1 | Mistakes were Made

If this ever looks wonky/glitched, I have this properly archived on Ao3

A/n: the first part was implied AFAB reader because of pregnancy- and it probably still is but pregnancy is barely mentioned in this.

Techno

So remember when this man was absolutely terrified for you and the baby? Yeah that doesn’t get alleviated. If anything, that fear gets worse.

You holding the child, the perfect combination of you two, makes him truly realize how fragile the baby is. Like hello? This thing is his? And so tiny? Like a potato, a large one at that but still a potato?

Potatoes are fragile. Babies are fragile. Baby is like a potato, which makes them ultra fragile- oh NO.

Let’s get this straight; Techno is the infamous blood god. This huge hulking piglin hybrid who can easily kill anyone in arm’s reach. And then you got this tiny defenceless baby that is related to him? Like he knows how this thing works but it just feels surreal.

This anxiety feeds his distaste for holding his own child. He’s a monster and that’s a sweet innocent baby. He is going to severely harm the baby by even holding it. You never know what could happen- plus you need some mother-child bonding. It’s very important. Yes you may have been carrying that baby for 9 months but some more physical touch goes a long way. It grounds it more into reality for you. Yeah, that’s totally the reason.

The behavior can only last so long though. Eventually Techno would have to bond with his kid, hold his kid. You were getting fed up with how long he was taking. His anxiety over the situation was obvious and you were giving him space. So you did, but it’s been months and he still refuses to even touch them. His avoidance is annoying and it has to come to an end. And you will make sure it will.

One day, while he was relaxing and reading, you gently plop the baby onto Techno and go do some household chores that are usually hard when you have to keep an eye and ear out for the kid at every second.

Techno and the kid have a shared moment of “wtf” because the baby saw this thing before but he never touched it before. And they were left on it? By mother? Techno is internally freaking out while this baby tries to crawl on him. Really they’re just pulling at his hair and clothing. Anything they can get their grubby little hands onto. And gum on whatever they can get into their mouth. Oh god, this is going to be a long… period of time. He doesn’t really know when you’ll come back for them but he hopes it’s soon.

It’s safe to say that you did not come to Techno’s rescue in a swift manner. You made sure to take your time doing everything that couldn’t be properly done. Like cleaning or cooking a proper meal. Cooking had been left up to Techno mostly, and you really appreciated that he took that up and made good food but someone can only handle potato based dishes for so long. It was about time that something else was made. The potatoes needed a break.

When you come back to Techno and the baby, you’re so pleased to see that they’re having a little bonding moment. The baby was calm and Techno was finally relaxed in what felt like a century. Everything was perfect.

Techno was reading Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and your sweet baby child had long dozed off in his arms. Techno either didn’t notice or didn’t care and kept reading aloud, though it was mostly likely that he wanted to start education young. Even in their sleep. He started the education process already, in a way, by reading The Art of War to your pregnant stomach for months on end. You’d long grown tired of it, but the sight and sound of Techno reading still warmed your heart.

Ranbob

Nothing changes on his knowledge of babies. Not much, anyways. Some of the information he knows on babies came directly from you. The rest came from books found around Mizu.

In theory, he knows what to do. He read up on everything he’d need to know, after all. But in practice, it’s a whole different story. Anxiety occasionally comes to haunt him but he easily waves it off. He knows what he’s doing.

When Mizu was still populated, he observed the lives of others. There wasn’t much to do besides that. Children weren’t an uncommon sight. But babies? Now that wasn’t a common sight. Not many people brought their babies out. Nor were there many.

It’s understandable for him to not know exactly how to raise a baby. Unless you raised or helped to raise a baby, you aren’t exactly well versed in baby and are therefore slightly unprepared for said baby.

Though compared to children, he’s actually more prepared to care for the baby since there were so many books about baby care and stuff they’d need. Children are a whole different beast.

With children, it’s a more individual case-to-case deal. There aren’t any parenting guides on children. Well, there are. Though they all differ from each other. Each book has its own descriptions on why a behavior is happening and how to handle or fix it. So many differing opinions that overlapped were overwhelming. Ranbob soon came to the conclusion that childcare is more interpretive. Based on the child’s personality.

That’s way in the future though. Now he has to deal with a baby. A fragile little thing. It’s perfect in every way.

Now his anxiety starts to get the better of him. He’s so much bigger than it, much stronger. The baby is completely at his mercy and he is anxious that something bad may happen to it. Realistically, though, nothing bad is going to happen to his little family.

Once he holds the baby for the first time, all previous anxiety is taken by the wind. All that remains is absolute adoration. This leads to him caring for the baby almost entirely. Or when it’s least convenient for you, that is.

Like when your babe cries late into the night. Witching hour cries. Everytime without fail, he’d awaken and swiftly make his way to the nursery. All in an attempt to allow you to sleep. You’ve already done so much work to make the child. The least he could do was wake up and care for them. Plus you still looked so tired.

Although Ranbob was tired when morning came, it didn’t matter when you came out well rested. Or much better than the day before. Each day was a slight victory in his books. He only wanted the best for you, anyways. If sacrificing a few hours of sleep meant that you’d sleep better, then so be it.

He views your child as a blessing from Dream himself. A symbol of the union between you two. Just absolute perfection. Oh how lucky he is to have you and especially fortunate to have a child with you. His god has seen his hard work and has gifted him with so much more than he deserved. But he’d take it all the same.

If you two “accidently” had another kid, he’d be more than happy. Yes, he’s content and happy with the child you two already have. His life is perfect now. But if another addition just happened to come along? Well who is he to deny his god’s will?

aka he wants to weaken his pullout game to have another kid with you. One kid is enough but two? Oh that’d be swell!

Ranbutler

Compared to the previous two, Ranbutler’s reaction to the baby’s arrival would be labeled as “different”. Techno feared for his child, Ranbob was anxious, but Ranbutler? This man is ecstatic! Oh my gosh you two finally have a kid. Isn’t this just great?

His excitement level is astronomical. Come on, this man literally acts like this baby is going to achieve world wide peace or something. Like Jesus Christ incarnated. That’s the level of excitement he’s at.

Right from the get-go, Ranbutler is almost desperate in his attempts to hold the baby. Please? Pretty please? Why can’t he hold your baby? Our baby? Though as… desperate as he is to hold his child, he doesn’t want to disturb important mother-child bonding. Even if you carried them for around nine months, it’s still vital that you actually bond to your baby. Skin-to-skin early on is important.

At the next available time, most likely when you’re asleep or on the verge of sleeping, he’ll gently remove the child from atop your chest. Of course he’d go to the next comfiest and secure place he can and allow for some skin-to-skin between him and the baby.

According to some studies, skin contact with a baby supposedly “awakens” maternal or paternal and he was more than happy to test that out. If it worked? Then that’s great! If it didn’t work? What was the harm? It’s all good in the end.

Because of the nature of his job, you often don’t see him during the day. Both a blessing and a curse. This leaves you alone to care for the baby until he comes back. Even then, it wasn’t a guarantee that he’d help. That’s what you thought, at least.

No matter how exhausted he was or how irate he was from Billiam, the sight of your and the baby always made everything right in the world. All problems just dissolved away, becoming unimportant whispers of responsibilities.

Responsibilities that seemed to come from a whole different reality. Here, at home, the mess that’s Billiam doesn’t exist. Won’t ever affect his lovely little world.

Sometimes he comes home extremely late. So late that you already went to sleep, along with the baby. Occasionally you would try to stay up for him to come home. You were laying on the couch with the baby on your chest, what else was he to presume? That was obviously what you were doing, right?

On those nights, he would sit by you and just watch. Basking in the calm energy you exude. Even without talking to him, you always had a way of calming him down. Of making him feel loved and appreciated.

He would also take care of the baby's needs at night. With his occupation as Billiam’s servant, it really wasn’t the best idea, but he assured you that he would be fine. After all, he couldn’t bond with the baby during the day, so that only left the night. Even if it was menial tasks, he found solace in the presence of the family he was creating,

A question that kept reappearing was how he managed to get such a wonderful partner. One so willing to have a child with him. Deep down, he knew the actual answer, but it was hidden under so many layers of delusions that it’d be better and easier not to deal with that mess.

Now that you had the baby to care for, he was much more willing to leave you alone while he went to work. Yes, sometimes he still brought you into the room with The Egg. But that was only because you seemed stressed the day, night, or morning before he left.

How could he just leave his precious to flounder around so helplessly? A baby can easily be overwhelming. The Egg was more than willing to help you.

The kid, although a beautiful culmination of the love between the two of you, also symbolized another thing. They were a shackle, keeping you tethered to him.

There was no way you’d be able or wish to escape in such a fragile condition. Especially with the baby. How could you risk the life of something so innocent? Of something that did absolutely nothing wrong besides existing. You wouldn’t be such a horrible monster, would you? No, he knows you. Knows that you wouldn’t do that.

Once he has a taste for parenthood, he’s practically addicted. He absolutely loves it. Loves you. Why not have another? And another? And another?

Let’s be honest, he might just want a small herd of kids. Not many, like four or five. A few more wouldn’t do too much harm, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. After all, you’d be around them the most, being the primary caretaker for them all.

The desire for a large family comes into direct conflict with his desire to not make you overwhelmed and overworked. It was a hard battle, but he convinced himself that maybe just one more wouldn’t hurt. Just one more, and that’ll be the last he’ll want.

He’ll say that for the next three he plans to have with you. Can men get baby fever? If they can, then this man definitely would have it, just saying.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Travelled (Legolas x Reader) (Part 2)

A/N: A continuation of my Fellowship x Pregnant! Reader story, in which you ended up choosing Legolas to help raise your unplanned child. Part 2 can be read without reading part 1 first.

Synopsis: Life with Legolas, your two daughters and your treehouse is perfect, until one night, parental instincts go on ignored, and things go deeply awry.

Warnings: I watched The Conjuring before bed tonight and was unfortunately inspired. Enjoy. Also Legolas is a cute adoptive father send tweet.

Pairings: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 2610

Rain fell heavily outside, though yourself and your family did not feel said rain. Buried below glorious crowns of leaves, your treehouse was situated securely.

Built into the thick trunk of an Ithilien tree by Legolas’ own bare hands, your treehouse was set with two bedrooms, and resembled an elevated cottage more than anything else. Around the length of the cosy home, a rounded balcony lay.

Leading down from said balcony was an old rope your children used to climb to and from home. One broken ankle later from your youngest twin, however, and a winding set of stairs was built into the trunk below, too — leading up to your balcony.

And indeed, “twins” was right.

Learning on the Fellowship’s journey that you were pregnant with that no-good Brander’s child was shocking enough, let alone discovering at the actual birth that said little baby’s embryo had split into two, providing you with a set of beautiful daughters.

Fortunately, they were nothing alike their biological father in spirit — possessing kind hearts and noble souls instead. Even more fortunately, they garnered your looks. Regarding their appearances, although twins, they each held distinctive differences.

Perhaps the luckiest of all, your old Fellowship colleague, now turned husband, seemed to have the most influence on both Ivorwen and Tobrien — better known simply as “Ivy” and “Toby”.

Rabbit stew, a recipe sent from your Shire friends, was made for dinner that night, as the four of you sat around a wooden table and ate merrily, enjoying the lively atmosphere the warm candles provided.

“There is still hair on the meat!” Ivy insisted, though, the grin on her 9-year-old cheeks gave away her agenda.

“There is not!” Legolas urged back, sharing her grin.

You and Toby laughed brightly, passing a plate of rolls between one another. This argument had been going on since before any of you had even sat down.

Ivy made a show of stabbing a chunk of rabbit and holding it up. “Yes, there is! See? There’s hair on it! You’re a horrible cook after all!”

Legolas made a show of squinting his eyes and leaning across the table to inspect the chunk of rabbit, before settling back into his chair and pressing on.

“That’s most likely your own hair! How many times have I encouraged you to learn my version of braiding?” Legolas pointed out, gesturing to his own locks.

Your eyes crinkled with amusement and love, as you watched the dad and daughter exchange teasing words, even if none of those words were actually “dad”, “father” or even “ada”.

“You’re impossible, Varno,” Ivy shook her head, still smiling nonetheless. “Just admit your talent lies in hunting and not in cooking.”

“I resent that accusation,” Legolas playfully warned, pointing a fork at Ivy.

“Varno” was a name both you and Legolas had decided upon. “Ada” reminded him too much of his own father, and “uncle” simply felt too misplaced.

So, instead, “Varno” was decided upon — meaning “protector” in Legolas’ own language, which is exactly what he had been for you, ever since that fateful night by the campfire you’d learnt of your predicament.

Although many of your friends and colleagues that evening offered you their hand in marriage, you had felt a maternal stirring within you. Something told you to choose the best of the best for your unborn offspring, and who better than a steadfast elf to keep you safe?

You had been watching Legolas one night, a few evenings after learning of the life growing within you, with your hand over your stomach.

Although you still didn’t quite have the full comprehension of knowledge behind this, you truly believed, till this day, that both Ivy and Toby told you to “choose that one—he’s our dad”.

Resolute in your mind, you approached Legolas and accepted his offer of marriage. He was ecstatic and gleeful, and then a little boastful to the other suitors. Cockiness befell him for a short while, until your stomach grew and a paternal kick changed him.

He matured overnight and grew from a young archer into an awaiting father, despite the girls not being his. That never slowed him, though—he was a better father to Ivy and Toby than some real dads were to their own children.

He soon married you after the war, and the rest was history.

After you had to break Legolas and Ivy’s “fight” up with a laugh and a motherly warning, the table was cleared.

“All right, dishes to the kitchen, and then teeth,” Legolas announced, quirking a brow in Ivy’s direction as she walked past.

Legolas mouthed to her that their fight wasn’t over, and Ivy made a show of raising her brows once in challenge.

“She gets that from Gimli, I know it. Don’t ask me how,” Legolas whispered to you, as you too walked by.

“Intrusive visits and loud Yules,” you joked, grinning over your shoulder at your best friend.

Grimacing, Legolas winced his teeth with a hiss. “Do not speak of such holidays, let us just enjoy the autumn while it lasts.”

“You don’t want Yule to come soon?” Toby asked, appearing from behind Legolas, and peeking her head around his torso to gaze up in his direction. “What about toys?”

“Galadriel sends the best, and nothing has topped the bow she gave me in Lothlorien eight years ago,” Legolas replied. “Have you brushed your teeth yet, aranel?” (princess)

Toby made a prolonged noise, as she beamed brightly to show off her teeth.

“No, I don’t fall for pretty girls and pretty teeth, thank you very much,” said Legolas shaking his head. “Breath test.”

He bent down and allowed her to piggyback ride him. Standing swiftly, he looked over his shoulder and at her, where she then breathed loudly with an open mouth into his face.

Legolas scrunched his nose and recoiled. “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell someone with stinky gums. And I’ve been to Mordor.”

Toby’s eyes grew bright with excitement. “Will you tell us another Fellowship story tonight?”

“Only if you brush your teeth,” Legolas answered, nuzzling his nose with hers.

Ivy walked past again, done with her dishes, and scoffed at Legolas. “Don’t listen to him, Toby. It’s bribery!”

Legolas gently kicked her ankle as she walked by, although, a feather could’ve done more damage—your “gentle giant”, you called him.

“Very well then, tonight I’ll tell you all about the Mouth of Sauron, and why brushing your teeth is important,” Legolas said again, turning around to watch the eldest twin head for the bathroom down the hall.

She waved him off over her shoulder, before disappearing to brush her teeth.

Toby swiftly kissed Legolas’ cheek, before dismounting from the piggyback ride and skipping after her sister.

You watched from the kitchen sink with a warm smile, and wiped a bowl with a dry rag. You observed the ardent love in Legolas’ eyes, as he watched the hall for a minute, where Toby and Ivy could be heard giggling over their dad’s cooking skills.

He finally shook his head and turned to you, wearing a content smile of his own. Catching your warm expression, he walked towards you with a sly question on his tongue.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, returning to the dishes. “But have I ever thanked you for marrying me and helping me to raise those two ladies?”

“Ladies is a stretching term,” said Legolas, coming up behind you with a wrapping of your torso and a burying of his cheek in your hair, as he hugged you from behind, “but no—I don’t think the few thousand times is enough. Could you perhaps tell me once more?”

You melted into his hug, laughed like bright bells, and turned around. Wrapping your own arms around him, you buried your head into his shoulder and embraced him tightly.

“Well, thank you,” you emphasised, teasing him slightly.

Rocking the hug a little, he kissed the top of your head, and responded after a moment. “Actually, it is you all the thanks is owed to—I never assumed a life like this would be possible for me, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” you agreed, squeezing the hug once more.

You both stayed like that for a moment, before he kissed the top of your head again and let go. “You can ready the girls for bed if you’d like, I’ll finish up here.”

You lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, before walking away. Your hands remained held until the distance you walked grew too much, and Legolas had to let go to stay in front of the sink.

He smiled after you, as you disappeared around the wall.

Sighing in tranquillity, as the rain grew outside, Legolas looked out the glass window to his side. All he could make out were tree trunks through the rain and moonlight, and the prince basked in the sense of home for a few seconds.

However, the placid state could only last for so long. Unsure if the girls teasing him all day on their rabbit hunt had just worn him down, or if his eyes were indeed working correctly, a sway of trees exposed a trunk in the distance, where Legolas could have sworn he saw a body scaling.

Narrowing his eyes and knitting his brows, the archer moved closer to the glass window. As his breath fogged up the glass, Legolas moved as close as he dared to the window, observing the distant trunk.

Peering harder and harder, Legolas prayed for the wind to sway the leaves again, so he could view the tree. However, before he had the chance to do so, a quick voice from behind startled him.

“C’mon, Varno!” Toby urged, waving her dad to follow. “Me and Ivy are ready for the bedtime story!”

Legolas jumped on his feet, most unlike an elf indeed, and snapped his eyes over his shoulder to his daughter. Meeting her young gaze, he calmed.

Although, with the odd anomaly on the distant trunk still on his mind, Legolas turned back to the window. The leaves swayed again, and Legolas saw the tree once more. However, this time, no beings scaled the side of it.

He swallowed his nerves and shook his head, as his daughter called him once more.

“Varno?” Her voice was slow and unsure.

Meeting her eyes again, he beamed brightly and ran forwards. Scooping her loudly laughing self into his arms, he spun around and lifted her high—all whilst heading down the hall.

Toby’s laughs and Legolas’ eagle noises alerted you first, as they flew into the bedroom. “Eagle Attack” was a game he’d played with the girls since birth, where he’d lift them high, making them “fly”, and screech obnoxiously.

It usually ended with him gently throwing them down onto a bed or couch, in an effort to tire them out before slumber. Tonight, apparently, was no different.

“Aren’t we a little too old for Eagle Attack, Varno?” Ivy taunted, already sitting cross-legged on her bed, as you brushed her hair beside her.

“I’m over two thousand-years-old, and I still find it fun,” Legolas taunted back. He collapsed onto Toby’s bed with her backwards, leaving the younger twin a laughing mess.

“I do not think that tires them out as much as you believe,” you advised, shaking your head with a smile in your husband and daughter’s direction, who asked for the ride again.

“That’s why I have stories hidden up my sleeve,” Legolas replied. He sat up on his elbows, and smirked at you.

You gave him a playful frown, before finishing Ivy’s hair. Kissing your daughter’s cheek, you began tucking her in.

Legolas readied one candle, and dimmed all the other lanterns, so sleep would find the girls swiftly. Soon, as you tended to Ivy and he to Toby, Legolas’ story began.

It was one you remembered well, and one you also didn’t want to. You appreciated how comical Legolas delivered the story, in a way accessible to children, for there was nothing child-friendly about that war.

It wasn’t long after that, that soft snores from the girls filled the room.

Bringing the woollen blanket up to each daughter’s chin, and kissing their temples, you and Legolas bid them a soft goodnight from the door.

Closing it behind yourselves, you both began the small journey down the hall back to your shared room. He wrapped one arm around your back, and led you safely to the door.

Upon entering the room, you each made your way to your own beds. You had only shared a few kisses on the lips throughout your marriage, usually in times of great emotion, like the birth of your daughters, or the wedding itself.

Yours and Legolas’ marriage was almost entirely platonic, but he loved you more than any other, and you him. Only Ivy and Toby were counted among his other greatest loves, with you sitting safe right beside them.

Although nothing physical or lustful of nature took place between you, your relationship was one of deep devotion, and you had, in your own way, each pledged yourselves entirely to one another.

It was simply the most beautiful friendship, and one neither of you forsook.

Fluffing up your pillow, you rearranged your bed, which was only a metre away from Legolas’ own. He did the same, and hummed to himself slightly over the rain outside.

“This weather is a little intense, isn’t it?” you spoke up, looking at the roof above once in gesture.

He followed your gaze and agreed from behind his concerned frown. “I was almost worried earlier that the roof would collapse, with the leaves now falling and such.”

“For its seventh autumn, it isn’t doing too bad,” you decided, now sliding into bed.

“Agreed,” Legolas smiled, commending himself and his handiwork.

As he slipped into his own sheets, Legolas thought of what he saw earlier scaling the trunk. You were just about to reach over, wish your best friend a goodnight, before turning the candle out, until Legolas’ voice stopped you.

“Actually, meleth nîn—” he called, earning a blinking back of your eyes.

Conflicted over his own words, that same paternal feeling that kicked within him eight years ago drove his instincts. Sucking on his lower lip in thought, Legolas decided to trust whatever his gut was telling him, and lifted his blankets over to the side.

He beckoned you to slide into the covers with him. It was nothing unusual for you both, for many nights you had spent sleeping in the same bed with him. It first started in those early winter days, when your teeth chattered and your bones shivered.

His body warmth provided both solace and security, until you each grew so comfortable around one another that hugging in your sleep seemed as casual as a pat on the shoulder.

You almost went to tease him about being touch-starved or something of the likes, until you saw the look behind his eyes. They were the eyes of a concerned patriarch, and you knew better than to disagree with him.

After all, you knew to trust your own maternal instincts. His were no different.

Without saying a word, you slipped out from your bed and climbed into his, relishing in the warmth of his arms. He kissed the top of your head goodnight, before turning the candle off.

Only a small percentage of the fear within his stomach subsided, but he tried hard to fight it away. Nonetheless, the rain lulled him to sleep, where he then fell into a light slumber alongside you.

That is, until the bloodcurdling screaming of the girls started.

[writingisbetterthandying]

i’m not her - ts

blurb! 🪱 half awake enough

i know a lot of ppl have done like reader marries tom after grace dies but he’s still in love with her i can’t name any off the top of my head but holy cow are they so good (idk if this is a spoiler but there’s one where like r is like you don’t want a bb bc you don’t want anything that’s not hers 😭😭😭😭 and obv it’s way more dramatic and just so angsty my heart) so i just wanted to put it out there that all of those docs are just *chefs kiss* but i wanted to put my own spin on it!

here are some of those wonderful stories!

this is all over the place but I’m posting it regardlsss and I mah just delete but will have to see sorry why ja is shgc a long a/!!

set around mid season 4 but doesn’t rlly matter lol

part 2!

thomas michael shelby: a man with an impressive amount of women under his belt. not that he purposefully or intentionally stole so many hearts, yet on his conquest to heal his own he broke so many among the way.

there was greta, his first love, taken much too soon- the girl who despite her family’s opinion, chose him and loved him. he loved her too, amongst a life with four siblings, she was his, and his alone.

then, there was lizzie. reliant, though by habit of occupation. tommy was aware of her feelings, though he simply couldn’t be bothered, especially after the war, but he wasn’t completely heartless, and gave her employment of a much more suitable type.

may carleton, the wealthy widow who understood horses, understood him, who listened to him, who he wasn’t quite ready for yet. he missed his chance, and instead turned back to grace.

grace, the barmaid, the spy, the songbird, who stole tommy’s heart quite easily, keeping it as she went and came back from america with a husband, another man, the woman who had his son, the woman who died for him.

lizzie again, after grace, to calm his nerves, to fill the emptiness in his heart.

there was a consistency in the lack of permanence in the presence of these women in his life. his mother passed, greta too, then grace, leaving him with a young son, and despite his large family, his great wealth, his status and accolades from the King; tommy shelby was alone.

unintentionally, as it wasn’t as though there hadn’t been people more than willing to give their everything for him- tommy shelby had deemed himself undeserving of love.

and maybe he was.

he pushed away those that did care, he was so selfish and so greedy, that his ambition had surpassed what could be supported.

you had always been there. admiring him even from a young age, before romantic feelings truly even develop, rather a great fondness sprouted in your young heart for your friend’s second oldest brother.

you and ada had been thick as thieves since you could both walk, tying ribbons through your hair throughout adolescence, making a fuss for her older brothers, spending time in polly’s kitchen, gossiping, almost always. (john would join in too on occasion, telling tom and arthur he was simply there for the biscuits but he was always listening intently.)

it was there, at polly’s kitchen table, where you went with each new woman of tommy’s, even when you were truly too young to understand the pain in your heart.

when john one day announced what he had seen down by the cut, you had frozen, suddenly stiff as a board as you processed his words. the tears started streaming before you could fully register them, polly coming around with an arm maternally rubbing your back. ada was shocked, as this table gossip group of yours had always joked [in john’s absence] about a joint wedding; tommy and yourself, and ada and freddie thorne- two pairs of best friends pairing off in holy matrimony.

your heart broke again when greta passed, doing everything in your power to console him, as you once had with his loss of his mother, and he had done the same for you.

the war came, and the tears never seemed to stop. terrified of what was to come, your father sent to war, amongst all of small heath’s men, and regretfully so, tommy too. you had bawled into his chest before their departure, he had promised they would be back soon, there was nothing to fret about. your love for him apparent, but still unspoken, you felt it would be selfish to use such an occasion to spring into him such a declaration.

but after the war, that selfishness may have saved him- saved you. instead of being by his side, on his arm, like everyone had assumed you would be, you watched on hopelessly as he spent most of his nights with lizzie, then with the arrival of a new inspector, campbell, who approached you many a time for information on the shelby’s, and a new barmaid at the garrison.

grace. who swept tommy up with her voice, who made him feel strong? the woman tommy took to the races, who pulled him to the garrison more than usual, away from you, away from the truth. you were crushed. his interactions with lizzie weren’t pleasant for your conscious, but it was different with grace. he fell in love with grace. and then she left, and you picked up the pieces, tried to fill the gaps of his heart, and succeeded, but only partially.

because with his power came may. you almost forgot your own sadness with her arrival into his heart, she was practically perfect for him, you mainly hurt yourself with images of the two of them, breeding horses happily, the life tommy had wanted before the war. you missed that tommy, and may brought him back.

but grace came back, married to an american man and was now pregnant with tommy’s child. certain that it was his. and so, with her husband’s death, dismissal, whatever it is tommy did to get him out of the picture, came little charlie shelby. you weren’t sure you had much room for your heart for anyone else. there was of course ada and karl, who you visited in london at any chance, and arthur and john, friends since childhood, protective but so dependable, finn, who you cared for deeply, polly, a strong guide, and tom. thomas shelby, who you had loved since anyone could remember. but little charlie was perfect, and it was heartbreaking. tommy was happy though, and so you pushed aside your own romantic feelings and felt nothing but joy for the man you had known your whole life.

somehow, sometime after grace’s death, polly had propositioned a marriage: support. from you, tommy would receive everything you had suppressed in light of all his lovers, charlie would have a mother and a father, and you would finally receive his attention, his love.

it was agreed upon, and you were married. It was an intimate ceremony, with jeremiah leading the sermon, with an audience of the shelby’s and some close friends. celebrations came at the garrison, and lasted all night.

you were finally content. after all of the time spent watching tommy’s heart passed around, it was yours. or so you thought.

unlike grace, there was no bad blood between you and the shelby’s, in fact your marriage was like the final puzzle piece, the completion of the picture.

while not fully expecting love from tommy, you gave your all into the relationship.

it never seemed to come.

days in arrow house entailed time with charlie in the gardens, or the nursery, or the stables. you were surrounded by portraits of grace, memories of grace, and you were completely civil, as always, and talked about her with charlie, to make sure he couldn’t forget her- you would never allow it.

you loved tommy so much that you raised the son of the woman who truly had stomped on your heart, but you talked about her. you told charlie about all the kind things grace had done, despite all of her wrongs.

tommy hardly seemed to be around, and besides the company of charlie, you primarily saw pol, who held deep regrets upon seeing the state of your marriage. she had watched and consoled you as tommy jumped from woman to woman- from watery lane to her fancy cottage. she saw this union as a chance for you, but upon seeing your tired eyes and sad smiles, the sincerity dimmed in the shadow of grace, she deeply regretted her decision. yes, charlie now had your support, but who did you have?

isolated in arrow house, with all the maids, a toddler, and the ghost of your love’s wife. this was not the life she had imagined for you. you were to be finally cherished, acknowledged by the very least, yet tommy never seemed to be home. however, you were still sincere. you still believed in the good of tommy’s heart, even if he hardly even looked your way.

he felt exhausted sometimes- you were too nice, or too patient, too supportive. he appreciated it in his own way, and assumed that you had felt cared for, and were just being you.

tommy couldn’t seem to handle it though, when one day he was home, with the three of you in the sitting room by the fire. you were seated on the floor with charlie in your lap as he picked up some of his wooden toys, and tommy sat with a glass of whiskey on one of the plush couches.

“mama!” charlie babbled out, shoving his toy into your face.

you smiled fondly and gently moved his hands away from your face nodding in appraisal of his little car

tommy, however, didn’t take this lightly.

“frances? please come get charles.” he called out, but not totally registering his tone, you insisted that you’d tuck him in instead.

when you had put him to bed, you admired him for a little bit, before closing the door to the nursery softly.

you went to your bedroom now, looking for tommy. you eventually found him in his office, announcing that you had put charlie to bed.

there was a large pause before tommy broke.

“how long has my son been calling you that?”

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, but you understood his line of questioning.

“he understands that i’m not her, tom. he knows that i am just there for him. i love him, tommy.” you tried your best to stay calm, but there was frustration arising. grace was everywhere. yes, she was deeply important in their lives, but you felt like an invader sometimes, in the home that was supposed to be yours.

“you’re trying to erase her, that’s what you’re fucking doing!” he slapped the top of his desk.

“i’m not trying anything tom!” you had raised your voice, practically shouting out, matching his tone. he looked taken aback for a second, something you took some satisfaction in.

you weren’t known for being loud, even in a life with kept company like the shelby’s, you were always soft spoken.

you repeated yourself, but much less aggressively than before.

“i’m not trying to replace her, tom, i am just trying to be there for him, to be there for you.” you trailed off at the last part, despite him being your husband, you were embarrassed.

“what a piss poor excuse that is, aye?”

his lack of comprehension, of listening became to be too much.

you had been with him for over a year now, and it was growing to be too much. you had understood that he may never reciprocate your feelings, but you couldn’t allow him to patronize you any further.

“shut the fuck up thomas! and let me speak! all you have ever done is break my heart. i love charlie, and i will never let him forget grace! how stupid can you be to not see how i’ve practically given my whole fucking life to you! given my heart, my love! all you’ve done is brought me misery yet i do nothing but give you my all!”

you paused with a deep breath, but he knew better than to interrupt you.

“i understand that i am not greta: i’m sorry i’m not your first love, not like you are mine. i am sorry i’m not lizzie, i can’t fuck you like her or provide whatever solace she seemed to have brought you. i am not may, i don’t fucking understand horses as well as she can nor do i have some grand estate or her same grand connections! i am not fucking grace, i will not fill that gap left in your heart, i won’t attempt too, because even with the way she treated it, how she left you, it still belongs to her. it was never mine tom- you were never mine. you will never be mine. despite all of this, i have loved you since i was able. i have watched as you went off with various women, as you enchanted them, loved them. i tried to help you through your pain, pushing aside my own because of how full my heart is for you. yet you give me nothing. i have broken my own heart repeatedly because of how much i care for you yet you never seem to find an end tom. and the worst bit is that i would do it again, even though i know deep in my soul you will never return those actions.

i have cared for charlie like he’s my own. i know he’s not- because he’s grace’s just like this house is, and just like you are. nothing around me is my own tom, not even my own heart because for some god forsaken reason, you have stolen that too. you take and you take tommy, and you don’t know when to stop, and-”

he interrupts you, shushing you gently and wiping your cheeks which are wet with tears, an intimate gesture but you know it’s insincere. you can feel that it doesn’t mean anything to him. you hadn’t really registered your tears either, just pouring out what had been building since childhood- the anger and all of the sadness, finally being able to release it and make him see.

he pulls you into his chest, but doesn’t say a word, so you do.

“i have cried too many tears over you, spent too many years waiting for you, but i know you will never be mine, tom. do you know how much that hurts?”

he didn’t respond, only rocking you as if you were a child, an attempt to sway you into sleep.

he eventually succeeded and brought you up to bed, making a silent vow to better himself.

your words truly made him stop and think- something his mind rarely did. yes things were always turning, he had to be aware of what was going on for business, and he was too haunted to ever truly stop- rarely did he actually allow himself to pause and really get into an individual situation; and so he did. not just because his wife had a meltdown in his office, but because she was right.

you had been there every time. you were always there with some advice, offering friendship, care. even with each of his pursuits, you were kind and caring, showing no ill intent to the women, there was no outward jealousy or judgement. he had rubbed that in your face for so many years, practically making a show out of his relationships, not truly understanding the depth of your wounds. he hadn’t even registered how deeply you loved him.

he had been selfish. he had convinced himself he was so unworthy of love that he had taken every bit of your own for himself. dismissing you but seemingly allowing in everyone else, then, when you finally married, he dismissed you once again, then lashed out as you did find some happiness, some love.

all this thinking made tommy shelby feel guilty. he felt the consequences of his actions. it was not often that he truly spent the time to reflect and then feel such things, usually holding no remorse, yet looking back on your kindness and your love, he makes a promise.

a promise to cherish you, to fulfill his vows, and attempt to repay and reciprocate all of the pure adoration you had shown him over the years.

he wanted to do better, to be better, for you.