#about needing people to be the same when you change

[sunseed-fandump]

OH BOY TIME FOR ANOTHER TAROT ANALYSIS!!!!

Here's Shadow Milk Cookie's REAL cards before they were changed! Despite not having the numbers, the imagery is consistent enough and makes it easy to know which card is which!

First up we have XV - The Devil, in the upright position.

In summary, The Devil represents oppression, addiction, obsession, dependency, excess, powerlessness, and limitations.

"Getting the devil card in your reading shows that you have feelings of entrapment, emptiness and lack of fulfillment in your life. It might also mean that you are a slave to materialism and opulence and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to shake off the feeling of wanting to indulge in luxurious living. You might be aware that this kind of lifestyle is leading you down the rabbit hole, but you have that feeling of not having any form of control over your actions or urges."

Second we have XIII - Death, also upright.

This card represents transformation, endings, change, transition, letting go, and release.

"Death is one of the most feared cards in a Tarot Deck, and it is very misunderstood. Many people avoid mentioning this card because it has that much power. Most times, people take the name of the card literally. However, the real meaning within the Death card is one of the most positive in the whole deck.

The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you."

Lastly, we have XX - Judgement.

In the upright position it represents self-evaluation, awakening, renewal, purpose, reflection, and reckoning.

"The traditional Judgement meaning focuses on the moment when we reflect and evaluate ourselves and our actions. It is through self-reflection that we can have a clearer and objective understanding about where we are now, and what we need to do in order to grow as humans. The Judgement card appearing in a reading signifies that you are coming close to this significant point in your life where you must start to evaluate yourself.

To see this card can also indicate that you are in a period of awakening, brought on by the act of self-reflection. You now have a clearer idea of what you need to change and how you need to be true yourself and your needs. This can mean making small changes to your daily life or making huge changes that not only affect you but the people close to you."

When applied to Shadow Milk Cookie, an interpretation of these cards are hinting at a great event or change that will force him to reevaluate either himself or a decision he's made. Leading to some sort of renewal or reckoning. Now is this his actual fate? Is it hinting at a possible redemption or is he going to get hit with the karma stick in a future update leading to his demise? I'm not sure! It could swing either way.

But what about the altered cards? What was the fate Shadow Milk Cookie wanted?

Our first card in this reading is X - The Wheel of Fortune.

Upright, it means change, cycles, fate, decisive moments, luck, fortune, and unexpected events.

"The Wheel of Fortune turns evermore, seemingly to communicate that life is made up of both good and bad times, and that the cycle is one that we cannot control. It is something that is subjected to both kings and workers, and that nobody on earth can avoid what is fated. When you have good moments in your life, make sure that you enjoy to the fullest, for what comes up must always go down. The same is true in reverse - when you are in a bad situation, things will eventually become better again."

Next we have Black Sapphire Cookie as IV - The Emperor.

This card represents stability, structure, protection, authority, control, practicality, focus, and discipline.

"It’s all about control when it comes to the Emperor, for this card means authority, regulation, organization and a fatherliness. The Emperor represents a strategic thinker who sets out plans that he must see through. He is a symbol of the masculine principle - the paternal figure in life that gives structure, creates rules and systems, and imparts knowledge. Where the Empress's desire for their kingdom is to create happiness, the emperor desires to foster honor and discipline. He guides with a firm hand, following the calling of the crown above all else. Though he is a ruler, he understands that to reign is also to serve - thus he acts rationally and according to what is for the greater good of the kingdom."

Lastly we have Candy Apple Cookie, one might mistake her card for the Empress, but don't be fooled! Due to the distinct symbolism of the black and white pillars behind her, I firmly believe that she's actually II - The High Priestess!

This card represents unconscious, intuition, mystery, spirituality, higher power, and an inner voice.

"The meaning of the High Priestess is related with inner knowledge. Her appearance in a reading can signify that it is time for you to listen to your intuition rather than prioritizing your intellect and conscious mind...

The card itself shows a night-time scene, meaning that the world in which she protects and guards is one that may at first seem frightening, but has the potential to lead us into the growth of the self. When she appears in a reading, she is calling to you to listen to her message, and follow her into your own depths. There is searching within yourself to be done for the answers that you seek. The answers to the questions you have are within, not without."

What do these cards mean when put together?

An ever shifting troubled fate leading to the establishment of a ruler or mentor figure followed by listening to this mentor's message and guidance towards a new outlook/enlightenment.

I think, with this reading, Shadow Milk Cookie is sort of hint-hint nudge-nudging at PV again. Basically more of his "join me and i'll lead you to a better world. i'm destined to guide you." sorta gaslighting BS.

Sorry for the long post. All and all, these are both very interesting readings!

[dynamo-of-fake-twin-brother-fame]

So my brain doesn't make the chemical that gets you to SIT STILL while asleep. Or at least.... It does make it, but not nearly enough. So while some people with the same sleep issues as me need railings to keep them from rolling out of bed, I just kinda... Wiggle. Rotate like a rotisserie chicken. Burrito myself. Un rotisserie chicken. Un burrito. Wiggle. End up (sometimes) with my feet up where my head is supposed to be. This is why I tend to collect a lot of stuff down around the foot of my bed. Boxes of magic cards, clothes I've only worn once so far, for an hour, so they're still clean, extra blankets and coats, boxes of mtg cards, journals.... They trick my brain into not flipping around the wrong way when I'm sleeping. I'll still curl and uncurl like a demonic pill bug, but I don't end up with my feet on my pillow.

And for the longest time, I didn't know that was a thing. I just thought that's how people slept. Evolution's way of keeping us safe at our most vulnerable. Cuz if you keep moving around when you sleep, things that want to eat prey in it's sleep will think we aren't. It wasn't until I went on a trip with a young girls group back when I was still in it and we shared beds in the hotel that my bedmate (I think her name was Angela. Or Amelia? I can distinctly remember her face and the dress she wore for meetings) mentioned I 'moved around a lot in my sleep'. Like, I noticed she DIDN'T move around a lot, and I thought that was something humans tried to do when they shared a bed (I'd never had to share a bed with anyone before, that I can remember, outside of maybe sleeping with my parents when I was really small and had a nightmare) so I did try to stay... More still. Until I fell asleep properly and lost control of the unconscious urge to spin.

I'm wiggly when I sleep. I wobble. I spin. I rotate like a jpeg in a PowerPoint presentation animation. And this means that during the time your brain is supposed to be recharging... Mine just kinda half-asses it. Like a charging cable that's old and bent so you gotta hold your phone *juuuuuuuust* right to charge it. And I have found out (with some outside help) that the anxiety (that crazy anxiety that's so bad I have to medicate) makes it worse. If I'm anxious, I'm more wiggly than usual. If I'm calm, I'm less wiggly. I also find I'm less wiggly in the cold months when I've got eighteen pounds of blanketry on me.

(I do think it's kinda funny that the original state of our brains is WIGGLE. Like, our brains evolved to produce a chemical that stops WIGGLE, but if you've had a traumatic brain injury or your brain just doesn't produce that chemical, it'll reset to WIGGLE MODE. And WIGGLE MODE is the less optimal setting. Humans were badly designed in a high school engineering class, and the four students keep having to fuck with the code to fix things, but every change to the code fucks up something else.)

But all this to say -- there are some days I wake up, and I'm just bone-tired. I want to immediately go back to bed. Because the wiggles were with me the night before. It sounds funnier talking about it like it's some sort of old-timey affliction like Victorian wasting sickness rather than saying my brain is more caveman-y than normal. Because that's... Kinda what's going on. The original, caveman brain had WIGGLE MODE ACTIVE. And it's exhausting. So it's understandable why life expectancy wasn't as long back then. Our bodies just... Ran outta juice faster back then.

Whenever I take a long car ride I end up exhausted afterwards, and I’m always like “why am I so tired? I was just sitting around doing nothing all day.”

But the answer, it turns out, is I was doing something. Riding in a car jars your body in many directions and requires constant microadjustments of your muscles just to stay in place and hold your normal posture. Because you’re inside the car, inside the situation, it’s easy not to notice all the extra work you’re doing just to maintain the status quo.

There’s all sorts of type of work that we think of as “free” that require spending energy: concentrating, making decisions, managing anxiety, maintaining hypervigilance in an unfriendly environment, dealing with stereotype threat, processing a lot of sensory input, repairing skin cells damaged sun exposure, trying to stay warm in a cold room.

The next time you think you’re tired from “nothing”, consider instead that you’re probably in situation where you’re doing a lot of unnoticed extra work just to stay in place.

[kiszjuli]

YOU WIN .ᐟ

✸ varsity!jaemin x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c. 2.1k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which jaemin has been pining after you and makes you a deal. if he wins the valentine’s day basketball game, you have to go out with him. you agreed, but you knew you didn’t like him like that. at least that’s what’s you’ve been telling yourself.

↳ playlist. pov - ariana grande. universe (let’s play ball) - nct dream. i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys call me baby - exo. talk saxy - riize. adore you - harry styles.

the large, crowed gym boomed with the sounds of sneakers squeaking against polished floors and the faint echo of chatter and commentary bouncing off the walls. valentine’s day was tomorrow, and with it came the school’s annual basketball game—a game everyone seemed to love, whether it was purely for the game itself, or the romance that seemed to come with it. for you, though, it was just another day behind the camera, documenting the campus chaos for the yearbook.

through your camera, you’d captured just about everything this year: pep rallies, club meetings, quiet moments in the library, and even pictures of people doing the simplest things. and of course, na jaemin. somehow, he was everywhere. whether he was on the court, joking with friends, or flashing a charming grin at you, jaemin had an uncanny ability to find your camera—and you hated how often you found yourself keeping the photos he was in.

you’d spent the last semester convincing yourself it didn’t mean anything. he was just one of the many faces in the crowd, one of the players you documented out of habit. but jaemin thought very different.

about a week ago, he’d found you crouched on the sidelines during practice. you fiddled with your lens, as he walks up and proposed his idea to you. “if i win the valentine’s day game,” he’d said, leaning casually against the bleachers, and looking down at you, “you have to go out with me.”

at that, you almost dropped your camera. “what?”

“come on, pretty girl, you heard me.” his grin had been infuriating, as always. before you could think to respond, he added, “i’m. a deal’s a deal.”

“and if you don’t?” you piped.

"i don't always win, but i promise you i will this time.” he responded with a confident tone.

the idea was ridiculous. you clearly didn’t even like jaemin like that—or at least, that’s what you’d been trying to convince yourself of.

although you found your heart beating a little quicker when he was around, eyes lighting up a bit when he walked in the same room, laughing slightly harder at his jokes-it was all meaningless. right?

so, motivated by your persistence to prove your subconscious wrong, you’d agreed and now, as the stands filled quickly with students, and your camera in your lap, you glanced around not being able to shake the feeling that this wasn’t going to end you you expected.

—

despite yourself, because of the infectious crowd, you felt the pre-game thrill in your chest. you adjusted some things on your camera, getting it ready for when you needed it. aiming it in front of you you changed some of the setting, while looking through the lens. then you had noticed that he was directly in the middle; staring your way. you lowered the camera, looking at him straight on. that stupid smirk and casually spun a basketball in his middle finger. show off. his coach called the team for a quick team talk, and of course he didn’t leave without throwing a wink at you.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes but couldn’t deny the small flutter you felt in your stomach.

the gym fell to a hush as the referee walked to the middle of the court, the basketball in hand. both teams on either of his sides, waiting in anticipation. you got your camera ready for the shot, eyes trained on the scene in front of you, but you felt the weight of someone else’s gaze.

jaemin.

he stood at the center, opposite the other team’s strongest member, his attitude relaxed but ready. something about his calm and confident demeanor told you that he already knew how the game would end. like he was playing with certainty, and not hope.

seconds later, the whistle blew, the ball was thrown into the air.

jaemin reacted instantly, leaping towards it. his body stretched effortlessly to the ball, fingers grazing it first—the perfect tip-off. just like that the gym erupted in cheers and the game begun.

from behind the camera, you followed the motions of the players. shoes squeaked against the polished wood, the sharp bounce of the ball echoed through the gym. jaemin was moving like he was made for this, weaving through players with an ease. his focus was intense, completely imo in the game, but every now and then his eyes would flicker to you.

they were subtle glances, quick enough that no else would would have caught it. but you did, and he knew that.

and you hated that your stomach flipped every time it happened.

—

later in the game, halfway into the second quarter, jaemin caught a pass near the three-point line, and without hesitation, he launched the ball toward the hoop. The form was perfect, the kind of shot that sent the crowd to their feet before it even touched the net. and of course, you got the perfect picture of him in action, feet lifted at least a foot off the ground.

the cheers that followed were deafening. jaemin didn’t celebrate, he didn’t even look surprised. he just turned on his heels and jogged back to defense with that same cocky smirk, and looked directly at you.

you lowered your camera, heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

—

the fourth quarter had rolled around, and the gym was like a madhouse. the scoreboard glowing with mirrored numbers. 76-76. the game had been the kind that had the entire crowd on the edge of their seats constantly. every dribble, every pass, every shoot felt like it carried the weight of the entire game. and at the center of it all—na jaemin.

but he was also exhausted. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his hair. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved.

the rest of the team was just as worn out, struggling to keep up as the opposing team tried to pushed harder, desperate to steal the lead. jaemin had been their anchor, but the slight lag in his step was noticeable.

and yet, every time he looked up at the stands to you, there was still that unwavering determination. almost as if it pushed him harder; to keep his drive high.

you weren’t sure how long you had been holding your breath when the game reached the final full minute. the rival team had the ball, moving with quick, calculated passes, trying to run down the clock. the team knew what they were aiming for—a last-second shot, the buzzer-beater that would end it all.

jaemin wasn’t about to let that happen.

in a fraction of a second, he darted forward, intercepting a pass with a speed that seemed impossible given how drained he had to be by now. the crowd gasped, watching with intense focus, defenders right on his heels. you didn’t even realize you were standing until your knees bumped against the scorer’s table, camera still clutched tightly in your hands.

the timer was ticking down—

ten seconds left.

he crossed the three-point line. his teammates shouted, signaling for a pass, but he didn’t even glance their way, focused on his own play.

seven seconds.

an opposing player lunged at him, trying to block him. failing, jaemin spun around him, keeping the ball in his possession.

four seconds.

he took the shot running out of time.

the ball left his fingertips, spiraling toward the hoop just as the final buzzer blared through the gym.

time seemed to slow, everyone’s heads following the ball.

the ball traced the rim once—twice—before finally sinking through the net.

the gym erupted with cheers and yells and claps.

the student section stormed the court, screams of victory bouncing off the walls. the team tackled jaemin in celebration, hands ruffling his hair, hitting him on the back, yelling his name.

but jaemin wasn’t paying attention to them.

his eyes were locked on yours, with an ‘i told you so’ look.

and you knew.

this wasn’t just a win, it was his win.

and you were his prize.

—

jaemin had done it. he’d won the game, meaning he’d also won the bet.

as you sat at the bottom of the bleachers, still surrounded but the buzzing nature of the gym, you weren’t sure scared you more—the fact that he actually pulled it off, or the fact that you secretly wanted him to.

but before you could process it any further, a familiar figure broke through the heavy crowd.

jaemin. hot, sweaty, completely breathless.

his jersey clung to his skin, strands of damp hair falling over his forehead, cheeks flushed even more. his eyes were sharp, focused and locked onto you. he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you

your breath caught in your throat.

jaemin tilted his head, a breathless grin tugging at his lips. “so…” he ran a hand through his damp hair, the pieces falling right back. his chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. “about our little deal.”

you swallowed hard.

your mind scrambled trying to find an excuse, something to get out of this, but every word died before it could reach your tongue. the truth was, no matter how much you had tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted this. wanted him.

jaemin must have noticed the mix of hesitation in your expression because his smirk widened, a teasing glint in his eyes. he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of sweat and cologne, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous.

“you’re not gonna back out on me, are you, pretty girl?”

something about the way he said it, made your breath hitch. the way he looked at you. like he already knew he had won more than the game and bet. you couldn’t form a proper response.

“uh..”

jaemin let out a quiet chuckle, gaze flickering to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “guess that means i’ll pick you up at seven.”

and just like that he turned around back to the court, leaving you standing there with your racing heart.

oh, you were screwed.

—

you weren’t nervous, definitely not.

at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you checked your reflection for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. it wasn’t even a real date. just the result of a stupid bet.

and yet, here you were, doing your last touches.

a sharp knock on your dorm door made you jolt, heart leaping into your throat. you took a deep breath before opening it, only to find jaemin leaning casually against the frame, looking criminally hot.

his sweaty jersey and damp hair from earlier was gone, now replaced in a white tee, covered by a black jean jacket and matched black jeans. his usual charm fully present. his cologne was soft but warm, dangerously enticing. and they way he had that signature smirk, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

jaemin’s eyes raked over you, picking out every detail. he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “damn,” he leaned in. little. “if i knew you’d clean up this nice, i would’ve made the bet a long time ago,”

you rolled your eyes trying to ignore the quickened pace of your heart. “are you gonna flirt all night or are we gonna leave?”

he chuckled, stepping from the doorframe, gesturing his arm out of the building. “both. definitely both.”

with a dramatic sigh, you stepped out and locked the door behind you. as you followed him to his car, you realized something—this felt like a real date. nothing forced, not awkward, not something you were being dragged into. interesting.

—

jaemin ended up taking you to a tucked away, late-night café, the kind with dim lighting and cozy booths. it was quieter than you expected, more intimate, which he probably planned.

as soon as you sat down in the booth, jaemin leaned forward, eyes fixed on you with that same infuriating smirk. “so, be honest,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table. “how long have you been secretly in love with me?”

his words caught you off guard. “excuse me?”

he grinned. “i mean, you did agree to this pretty quickly.”

you scoffed. “it was a bet.”

“sure.” he nodded slowly, like he wasn’t the one who came up with it. “and yet, here you are. looking beautiful, by the way,”

you rolled your eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “do you flirt with everyone like this?”

jaemin tilted his head, pretending to think. “only you.”

your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to glare. “unbelievable.”

he laughed, leaning back. “better get used to it, pretty girl. you’re my valentine this year,” ‘and hopefully forever’ he thought to himself.

you smiled shaking your head.

the worst part? you weren’t even mad about it. in fact, you couldn’t form see yourself going out with him more than just tonight. maybe you did harbor some feelings for na jaemin after all..

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yomaman @yukisroom97

[kashverse]

reading in the bathtub is an art. a refined, luxurious experience that not everyone can afford—because first, you need a bathtub. 

nanami knew this when he was investing in real estate. a house? non-negotiable. a bathtub? even more so. so, naturally, his bathroom is a haven. a scientifically optimized oasis. the water is at the perfect temperature, bubble bath carefully selected for its all-natural ingredients and sophisticated scent. a wooden tray stretches across the tub, holding a single lit candle (subtle, not overwhelming), a perfectly arranged plate of snacks, and a glass of wine—because real men drink wine. and while he lounges, perfectly balanced between relaxation and intellectual stimulation, he reads the american economic review or whatever riveting financial analysis he’s stumbled upon that day. nanami does not work overtime. because this is what he comes home to.

meanwhile, on the other side of the city, gojo is living the same dream. sort of. he saw a tiktok about this once. self-care. candles. a book. it all seemed very aesthetic. so, naturally, he has a copy of true literary genius—diary of a wimpy kid—in his hands. but gojo is not a silent reader. he is an orator, and the rubber ducks in front of him are his enraptured audience. his narration is passionate, animated, occasionally breaking off into dramatic reenactments. eventually, he gets bored of the actual text, so the book is unceremoniously shoved to the side, where half of it immediately gets submerged. whatever. duck storytime has begun. one of them is an undercover agent. another is hiding from their tragic past. the smallest duck, whom he has named "gregory," is framed for tax evasion. it is a gripping tale.

geto, on the other hand, approaches bath time with absolute precision. self-care isn’t just a routine. it’s a philosophy. he enters the bathroom with purpose, hair already secured in a perfectly executed, no-nonsense bun. his book of choice? the latest issue of vogue, which is not just being read—it is being annotated. entire pages are flagged with sticky notes, margins scribbled with commentary on new product lines, runway looks, places to visit, people to admire, things to buy. he is invested. if someone walked in, they might mistake this for serious academic research. in a way, it is.

meanwhile, toji does not have a bathtub. neither has he asked for one, nor have you asked for one, so he does not see the point. but this does not mean he is not a man of literature. he reads—specifically, your ninth-grade diary. in the shower. out loud. your innermost thoughts during your peak one direction era echo against the tiles as he smirks, flipping the pages with all the arrogance of someone who now holds ultimate leverage over you. he will never let you live this down.

choso, bless his heart, does not understand why people read in the bath, but he is fully committed to the concept. he brings a book in with full enthusiasm, and he will read it. even as his fingers wrinkle into pruned, soggy raisins. even when the pages begin to warp from the moisture. he is determined.

sukuna does not read. not because he can't—he just refuses. he will soak, though, reclining in the bath like some ancient king surveying his kingdom. you will read to him. because that is how it was done ‘in his time.’ and he sees no reason to change tradition. if you attempt to stop, he will nudge you with his foot until you resume. "keep going," he grumbles, eyes shut, thoroughly enjoying this outdated, borderline royal treatment. whatever. 

[intrinsically-inclined]

Ok so basically. I got VERY hyperfixated on hazbin hotel when it came out. So I made an instagram account called alastor.the.altruist and joined hazbin hotel instagram (which was actually very wholesome and fun and I was in a really funny gc) but anyways. Then I realised some people might think i was an alastor roleplay account (I was not) so I was like hmmm should I change my name? And people voted yes on my story poll.

So I needed a new name. Now back when I had my cookie run hyperfixation there was an artist who’s art I loved (@/ chocopotts - they are on tumblr and you should follow them bcs their art is awesome) whose favourite cookie was squid ink cookie (or maybe they just liked them I don’t really remember) and so that made me think “… hmmmm…. I like inky name”

So when I needed a new name for my instagram I decided what about inky.the.altruist which was good so I did. I used that same user for ao3 but THEN I had to sign up for tumblr and I didn’t want to use that same name for some reason so I was brainstorming and my brain offered “INTRINSICALLY INCLINED” and I was like yeah that’s cool actually. So. That’s my name story.

TAGS!!!!! (no pressure and anyone else can join on as well)

@itscthulhubitch @tinyattack09 and anyone else I can’t remember who else rn

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[littlemissshifter]

'How to' shift in a nutshell.

We've all heard this. Be in your dr. Pretend you're in your dr. Act like you're in your dr. This and that and blah blah blah. No need to do so much mental work. Please don't advise people to do this. Well unless it helps you or you like doing it, it's not really a necessity.

𝑩𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑫𝑹 -

What this actually means is that you should know that you already exist in your dr whether your awareness has shifted or not because you are living infinite realities at the same time right in this moment, the present. You are here, not because you're physically here but because you're aware of being in this reality. It's a conscious decision to be here. It's the knowing that comes along with looking around and being yes I live here. Just use this same knowing to know that you already in your dr as well, why? because you are everywhere. Living every life you want.

You don't even have to think of your dr imagining your surroundings and acting like you're there. Just being aware of existing there without feeling like you're there is more than enough to shift.

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑪𝑹 -

Now you're aware of your dr. You ask me, "What do I do with this reality now?" I say, "Nothing. Just be." Be with the knowing that you already are where you want to be and live your 3D like a sailor on the seas. Go with the flow because that's what's important. You just acknowledging once that you're in your DR is enough. Keep living here in the present. Focus on the 3D because your awareness is here presently. Do what you need to do, go to school, eat food, take a shower, do your homework etc. Because you exist here as well. You've got to live here too. Whenever the thought of your dr arises know that you're there as well.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑪𝑹 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆?

I don't know dude. If you already exist where you want why do you need the 3D to change? Don't you already exist in your DR? Aren't you already aware that you exist there? You only want the 3D to change if you're not where you want. But I just said that you're always existing where you want right? When you became aware of that reality you already shifted. Keep going with that knowing. Remember, the shift is always internal.

3𝑫 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇 -

Now, whatever will come up you've got to let it be. Don't fight it. You want to cry? Cry. Spiral? Spiral. The 3D is making you go crazy? Go crazy. Everything sucks? Whatever you say gorgeous. Nothing I mean nothing can stop the shift. Once you become aware of your dr it's inevitable to shift. Why? Because that's just how it is. That's what you want and the whole point of life is to experience what you want. Let your thoughts be. Feel whatever comes up let it be and know you're already in your dr. It's not to gaslight yourself. It's just the truth.

End notes: Technically people who didn't even know about shifting have shifted. That just further proves how easy it is and requires literally zero effort. Happy shifting!

[softtdaisy]

oooh or 14 and hotch :3

ultraviolence / aaron hotchner

summary. aaron had a hard time dealing with your relationship, his feelings for you and seeing you put yourself in danger constantly as your boss. until it explodes.

words count. 2 477

prompt. “I’ve had worse.”“And that’s why I’m angry.” from here

what to expect. is it angst? yes again. reader gets hurt so mention of blood and bruises, very brief mention of abuse and torture. aaron is sad and deserves a hug

a/n. thank you again for your request sweetie, I love writing stories from your idea �� I really love this story I could write more about these two so I really hope you will love it too!! 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

This case was absolutely awful. 

The team left for Los Angeles on Sunday night after a new victim was discovered. It was the fifth in less than two weeks, and the police finally decided to call the FBI for help. Little did you know how horrifying the situation was.

You got the call at Aaron’s place. 

Nobody knew that you were seeing each other. It might not be appreciated for your boss to find comfort in one of his team member's arms. At least, not by the people above him. 

Because unbeknownst to you and Aaron, the team was making bets about when you two would conclude, to which Emily assured it was already done. And about when you would make it official, to which Derek said it would probably never happen considering Hotch needs to keep his private life…well, private.

His phone ring woke you up from a very nice dream that had just begun. After spending the evening together, you and Aaron started spending the night together too. You’ve been in bed for less than an hour when you heard the ring and felt his arm around your waist moving to grab the phone. There was something reassuring in the way he was keeping you against him, with his other arms around you and one of his legs on top of yours to prevent you from moving. He put one last kiss on your hair before answering. 

“Hotchner,” he said with a raspy voice that was caused by you. And it only made you want to start again to hear your name with this voice. Your hand even got lost on the hair in his chest, unconsciously. 

But the reality struck you back. And sooner than you thought, you were back in the office.

Nobody asked why you arrived with Aaron or why you were wearing the exact same clothes as the day before. While your boss had time to change his shirt and tie.

Nobody asked at that moment, and soon, the questions seemed pointless once you discovered the case.

The atrocity of the torture these poor women went through made you all so angry that nothing in your life seemed more important than giving them justice.

Maybe you shouldn’t have worked with your heart more than with your brain these past days.

Maybe you shouldn’t have offered to be the bait to catch this monster.

Maybe you shouldn’t have insisted when Aaron kept saying he refused to let you go there and put your life in danger.

Maybe you should have paid attention to the worried look on your colleagues' faces and not assimilated it as being reluctant to get between the two of you.

But you still ended up at the monster place to catch him. 

You saw Aaron’s look on you when you left the car. It was a mix of worry for letting you get in the lion’s cage and a little bit of arousal, having an idea of what you might look like on a date with him. A date he hoped he could get after the case.

A hope that slowly died during the night. 

When your mic stopped working, Aaron had to fight every single feeling in his body to not run and get you back with the team. He knew you were on a mission and that if you didn’t get any proof, this would have been worthless. Yet, not knowing if you were still safe was killing him. And Rossi noticed how he threw his headset after you lost contact.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours went by.

And then a gunshot resonated in the air.

Everyone on site ran from the van to go inside the unsub’s house. Before they could finish climbing the stairs outside, you opened the door. Some still ran inside to make sure the unsub was under control. 

Emily and Derek stayed outside, close to you.

Aaron stayed at the bottom of the stairs, unable to move.

Your dress was ripped at the bottom, and one of the straps was torn and hanging loosely on your chest. Your hair, perfectly done when you came in, was now tangled. And the bruises.

It was killing Aaron to see them on your beautiful face, with your bleeding lip, and others growing on your arms.

It was killing Aaron that he couldn’t see them all.

“I’m fine,” you sighed to stop Emily and Derek from talking on top of each other. You had a big enough headache already. But you still gave them a small smile to prove that you weren’t mad. Just tired.

You wished you could easily accept their worries, but you couldn’t. You just wanted this to be done. There are some reactions you can’t control like that.

When you finally walked down the stairs and came closer to Aaron, you imagined he would be just as worried and asked you multiple questions. But he didn’t.

He ignored you. Worse, before doing so, he gave you the disappointed boss look. One that made the features on his face harder, meaner. One that reminded everyone who was above everybody in this team. A look that you hated. 

The following hours were just as blurry as the rest. Emily came with you to the hospital to make sure you weren’t alone and weren’t in danger. The medics took good care of you, from what you could memorize. The only thing you remember was the single tear that ran down your face with the sudden realization of what happened.

You almost got abused. You almost died there. And the only arms you needed after that moment were firmly closed against the chest you loved to sleep against. 

After Emily brought you back to your hotel room, you expected to have a lonely and sleepless night.

You just had the time to put on a loose shirt before you heard the knocks on your door. 

Just with that, you knew who it was.

Emily never knocks more than twice.

Spencer’s are gentle, like he feared bothering.

“Aaron,” you sighed, opening the door.

His ones were louder, probably coming from his boss' status. But not brutal. Almost like he was trying to contain his strength and not appear arrogant.

You turned around once he heard his steps behind you. You didn’t need to see him. You didn’t even want him around tonight. And you didn’t want to look at him because you knew a part of your heart wouldn’t resist him.

Because you knew, you knew how he would look.

So you ignored Aaron for at least a minute. Until you couldn’t stand the silence in the room suffocating you. 

Like you imagined, Aaron had taken off his tie and shirt and replaced them with a grey sweater that you absolutely loved on him. An old one that faded a little here and here that made him look younger. His hair was still wet from his shower.

But you didn’t expect him to stay by the door frozen. His eyes were locked on the bruises on your skin, and there were still marks of anger on his face.

“What do you wa…” you started, rolling your eyes from the situation. But Aaron cut you off sharply.

“That was stupid.” 

You hated that tone. This wasn’t Aaron. This was Hotch, your boss. And even in other situations, you didn’t remember hearing him like that.

His arms were crossed on his chest, and his eyes finally went up on your face. If a look could kill… “This was irresponsible and dangerous. Look at you.” 

Aaron was not a man to scream. You’ve never, ever heard him scream. But the way he would make his voice harder and sharper was maybe worse.

“Oh, come on,” you sighed, taking a step closer to him. Maybe it was provocative behavior, but you opened your arms so he could have a better look at your body. The way he closed his eyes for a second proved to you that it worked; Aaron had a disgusting taste in his mouth. “I’ve had worse.”

And that was true. You got shot during your first month at the BAU and spent two days at the hospital while the team was still working the case. You couldn’t count the number of cuts you’ve gotten through the years because you were never scared to go or use inappropriate paths to get what you want. Some of these cuts even got infected. Your doctor kind of hated you, to be honest.

But apparently, this wasn’t a good argument for Aaron because he took another angry step towards you. “And that’s why I’m angry.”

“Oh, you’re angry, SSA Aaron Hotchner?” You noticed his pupil get bigger, making his eyes look darker. 

Sometimes, Aaron hated his full name because it was a reminder of who he was and who he couldn’t be. An ambitious man, for sure, he was doing a great job but also a man who seemed austere and who could never be the husband he wished he was. You knew that, he told you during a sleepless night away for a case. And you were hitting directly in the right place.

“We both know why you’re here, Aaron.” You pursued and pointed a finger at him. “You didn’t blame Derek for hurting the officer by accident because he was too focused to care about people around last month. You didn’t blame Emily for almost breaking her arm running after the unsub when somebody was already after him last week. You didn’t blame Sp…”

“Stop it.” The first one sounded like a threat. “Please, stop it.” This one sounded like a pleading.

And in any other moments, you would have stopped. But you were tired of walking on eggshells with Aaron about your relationship and your job. And the link between both. So you selfishly kept pushing him. “Say it. Admit it.”

“What? That I love you? Fine, I love you!” 

The whole room went silent. All that you both could hear was him being out of breath and your heartbeats. It was like your world exploded, and tension could only fall down now. 

You stayed like that for a whole minute, standing and looking each other straight in the eyes. Waiting for one of you to give up and speak. Until Aaron had enough and sat on your bed. You watched as his hands went from his neck to his face, which he hid for a second or two, and ended on his hair.

“It’s not you I’m the most mad about. It’s me,” he continued, looking down at his feet. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at you for not listening and rushing straight into danger.” 

You let out a small laugh because, of course, he was angry about that. But this laugh gave him a small smile too. One that maybe you needed without knowing it.

“But I know my feelings make my perception of your actions and my reactions more biased. The idea of losing you tonight made me so anxious, and when I saw you coming out, bleeding and bruised… I was so angry at you for putting yourself in danger, at me for putting yourself in danger. The boss and the…whatever I am for you met to create a bigger and angrier version of myself.”

Aaron was so focused on himself that he didn’t hear your footsteps coming closer to him. It wasn’t until your knees touched him that he realized he was there. And when he moved his face up, you realized how vulnerable he looked. 

You never thought Aaron loved you and certainly not that much. It never came to your mind that maybe you were stressing him from something more than the boss and teammate relation by not being scared to go into a dangerous situation. But the way he seemed hurt to look at your bruised face made you realize that with every hit you took that night, Aaron got hit harder.

“Can I?” you asked, pointing at his thighs. He simply nodded, and you softly sat on him. Sure to not lean too hard on your bruises, but also because you wondered if you might break him too. A thought that you noticed in his eyes too from the way he barely looked at you and the way his hands were grabbing the sheet, not you. “Touch me,” you whispered. 

You slowly put a hand on his neck to caress his skin and his short hair. “I’m fine, Aaron. Touch me.” 

“This is my fault,” he sighed, putting his forehead against yours. And if it wasn’t the touch you were asking for or expecting, you took it. Because it was already a step forward. “I can’t have this type of reaction anytime we are on a case. That’s not a boss's posture. That’s not…”

“That’s a boyfriend posture I can understand,” you replied. Your nose softly brushed his, and you loved the shivers you felt in him. “Sure, it’s not easy, but we can work on it. If you want to.”

When you noticed Aaron was closing his eyes, you did it too.

And when you felt his hands slowly going on your hips, not grabbing it like he always does but barely touching it, you smiled.

“Tonight wasn’t easy, not for me obviously. But I get that it wasn’t easy for you either. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work on that.” You spoke quietly.

Again, Aaron didn’t answer, and you could tell the night had exhausted him. From catching the unsub, fearing he would never see you again, to confessing his feelings to the woman he hoped he would never lose.

You stayed like that, cuddling in silence for as long as you needed. Until Aaron offered that you both sleep in your own room, to take the night to think about you. And mostly to rest after everything that happened. And no matter how much you wished you could be in his arms to find peace, you accepted. Because he was probably the one who needed more to be by himself. 

You wanted this to work, and you would go at his own pace.

“And Aaron?” You called, grabbing his hand before he left your room.

He turned around, frowning. He looked so tired you wondered if he wouldn’t fall asleep on you if you didn't let him go. His chest was almost glued to yours, and you enjoyed that touch while it lasted.

“I love you too.” 

You wished you could memorize that smile forever. The way it softened his traits.

Aaron learned to give you two kisses: one on your forehead and one on your lips. 

Something that you knew would become a habit, a secret language. A wordless goodnight and I love you.

A promise to make things better.

[organic-bloodbath]

heyy could u maybe do a chishiya fic (maybe a some smut) but maybe reader was with him when they got separated from arisu and the others

Knife Princess - Part 2

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya are left together separated from the rest of the group. You receive news which you're not fond of.

Warnings: Talk about sex, but no actual smut. A little angsty and Y/N just being stubborn.

A/N: Using this request for the second part, though there's not really smut as i had originally planned.

Part 1

♤♡♧◇

The King of Spades had taken over Tokyo and was now terrorizing people everywhere in his sight. If he saw even a glimpse of you and you weren't fast enough to react - you were already dead. For some God's blessed miracle, you and your friends had managed to escape from the King's sight, for now.

You and Chishiya were separated from the rest of your friends and now only wandered around Tokyo together, avoiding the King at all cost. You tried to find a safe place to spend atleast one day only resting and searching for food.

You had found an abandoned tent which you could use together for sleep and rest - especially since your leg was still healing. It was located far away from the central of Tokyo, and you settled there for now.

During the time together, you had slowly started to get to know each other better. Chishiya had started to get the real you out of your shell - you weren't just the tough girl who could stab two men at the same time and get every man on their knees below you. You still were that girl, but you were so much more.

Chishiya couldn't help but wonder if the tough personality you showed at the Beach was up only when your brother was around. Maybe you had created a protective shield on your skin so Niragi couldn't completely take control of you - any worse than he tried to do now, but clearly had started to fail in that attempt. Chishiya was proud of you, if he had to admit, that you didn't let him squeeze you under his shoe like a bug. Of course Chishiya couldn't know the sibling relationship between the two of you, he only analyzed what he had seen by far.

He liked the real you, although he wouldn't admit it outloud.

You were standing by the tent and pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the ground. You needed to change your shirt to another one, since you had gotten it too dirty to wear.

"So, i found us two-" Chishiya started while coming back towards you, but stopped mid walking when he saw you.

You looked over your shoulder, your bare back facing him. Words stuck in his throat when he looked at your figure from head to toe until he cleared his throat and looked away.

"Sorry, i didn't know you were changing."

"You've already seen all of me more than once, shouldn't be anything new," you teased him with a playful smirk.

Chishiya didn't want to admit it to you, but every time he saw you without clothes on, he got flustered for some reason. You were extremely gorgeous, there was no denying in that, everyone could see that. Looking at you was like looking at a sculpture of a Goddess.

"I can still try to act like a gentleman and give you privacy, mind you," Chishiya mentioned.

"Mhm," you hummed and lifted your left brow, turning around towards him still wearing only your bra. "What do you got there?"

"Found some food which is not expired for once," Chishiya said, clearly proud of himself.

"Oh my, you're almost spoiling me today huh," you exclaimed, hand on your chest, and looked at the food he got.

"Also, I'll need to check up on your stitches," he said and told you to sit down.

You were wearing shorts, so you didn't need to take them off to access the wound. Chishiya held your leg in his hands and carefully cut the bandage off with your knife - it was the only sharp thing he managed to find at the moment.

"Does it hurt anymore?" He gently pressed on the wound, not putting too much pressure on it.

"A little," you answered with a short wince.

"I think we can take the stitches off in a few more days," he concluded.

You let him do his thing, not interrupting him with flirty remarks, no matter how hard you wanted to. You liked watching him work. Chishiya's fingers were brushing your inner thigh, his touch sending goosebumps through your leg.

He got up and sat next to you, moving his gaze to examine your wounded shoulder. He pressed his fingertips on your skin, right around the stitches.

"Good, you've managed to keep them uninfected," Chishiya praised you with a smile.

"Have a little faith in me," you said and bit your lip. "Is the check-up done, doctor?"

"For now, it is," he confirmed, looking into your eyes. Right after you lifted your left leg over his and sat on his lap, laying your hands on his shoulders. He put his hands on your hips, keeping you steady.

"You know, i don't really sleep with my doctors right after the examination," you stated playfully with raised eyebrows.

"Well, i don't really sleep with my patients either," Chishiya started slowly and slid his hand up and down your bare back, so gently it gave you goosebumps. "But we can have new rules here, hm?"

Sleeping with Chishiya wasn't left to a few times at the Beach. When you were separated from the rest of your friends, Chishiya had his hands on you every day and you loved every second of it.

For you and Chishiya, it was only sex and nothing more. You had started to care for him and he for you, sure, but by now it had all been just a physical thing for you. Two people who tried to survive and found comfort in each others' arms. You couldn't read what was going on in his head, though, so you automatically assumed his thoughts matched yours.

"I'd love to see you in a doctor's coat though," you grinned, playing with his blonde hair.

"I hope you won't," Chishiya said, a serious look in his eyes, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I don't want to see you in a hospital, unless you're giving birth."

You couldn't help but blush on his words. He was just about to lean in to kiss you, until you suddenly gagged and had to cover your mouth. You felt yourself becoming sick, something rising up in your throat.

You stood up when you gagged for the second time and ran behind the tent to where Chishiya couldn't directly see from his spot.

After a few seconds, you started throwing up on the grass, stomach cramping.

"Y/N?" Chishiya said and slowly came behind you.

You didn't answer, just leaned your hands on your knees and felt cold sweat rising on your forehead.

"Did you eat something bad?" he asked with concern.

"Nothing from usual," you mumbled after you felt like that was all.

You had eaten all kinds of things during your stay in this world. You were surprised none of them had made you ill before, since you'd eaten many expired products and once you ate chicken which you were sure wasn't completely cooked, but you didn't really have a choice at the time. Besides, during the past days after the Beach, Chishiya had eaten the exact same foods as you, and he seemed to be completely fine.

"Come on, you should lay down and rest a bit."

"I'm fine," you mumbled and tried to brush his hand off as you straightened your back, taking a deep breath in.

You did need to lay down, to be honest, so you went back inside the tent after Chishiya had brought water for you to drink.

♤♡♧◇

You had started to feel sick again the next morning and stayed resting in the tent while Chishiya went out for a moment. You had wanted to join him but you needed to feel good by tomorrow because you'd go and join another game.

You did worry for Chishiya if he wouldn't come back to you after all. What if the King found him and he was lying dead in a ditch or something? How long would you wait for Chishiya here if something happened?

But luckily Chishiya did come back about an hour later.

"I got you couple of things from a convenience store i found," Chishiya said. You lifted your head and slowly sat up as he entered the tent, kneeling down by your legs. He offered you a packet of crackers and cereals. "I couldn't really find good foods which would help with sickness."

You opened the package and started to chew one cracker. You hadn't told him, but these happened to be exactly your favorite crackers. He gave you only a small smile which didn't last very long, keeping his left hand behind his back.

"What is it?" you asked, and hesitantly he gave you one more packet.

A pregnancy test.

You looked up at Chishiya with wide eyes who sat next to you.

"You think-"

"Just, hear me out, okay," he interrupted and took your hand in his. "When was your last period?"

You didn't know. All the games and overall stress had made you forget all about your menstrual cycle. That was the least of your worries. Even before the games, you had never kept track on your periods.

"Take the test, so i can cross out one thing what made you ill," Chishiya pleaded softly. He noticed how stressed you looked and tried to avoid his eye contact. "Hey," he put his hand on your cheek, "i'm here for you whatever the result is."

"I'm not pregnant," you insisted. "I'm not doing that."

"Y/N," he said seriously.

"It's just a food poisoning."

"Take the test," he repeated. "Please."

You looked into his eyes for a moment, then twirling the test in your hands. You hadn't taken one before, there had been no need to. Surely he was kidding, there was no way you would actually be pregnant.

You eventually got up and went to pee on the stick behind a bush far enough from Chishiya's sight. He wouldn't give up before you would go through with it, you could see it from his eyes how he was looking at you. Your legs were shaking, as were your hands.

You couldn't be pregnant, you just couldn't. One of your biggest fears was giving birth. You didn't want to push an entire baby out of you, ripping your body apart. You certainly wouldn't be able to handle the pain. Not many things terrified you, but that did.

You pulled your shorts back on and slowly returned to Chishiya. You instantly gave the stick to Chishiya, not wanting to hold it yourself.

Neither of you said anything until the result was ready, you just sat next to each other, shoulders against each other. Million thoughts ran through your mind, your heart starting to race faster the longer you had to wait.

Then...

Two lines.

It couldn't be. No, it couldn't be, you can't be pregnant, there's no way.

You felt your eyes starting to water. Oh my god, this can't be happening, you thought. You couldn't become a mother. You started to feel like you were about to hyperventilate soon, breathing so rapidly you could barely get any breath in your lungs.

"Hey, hey," Chishiya said softly and put his hand on your cheek. "Look at me. Take a deep breath in a count of three, okay?"

You hesitantly nodded, trying to breathe in the rythm of him counting from 1 to 3, slowly over and over again until you were starting to calm down.

"That's good," Chishiya said and gently brushed your cheek with his thumb, wiping a tear away. You hadn't realised you had let yourself to start crying. "I'm here with you, alright? You're not alone in this."

He held you in his arms until you had calmed down completely, resting his chin on the top of your head. You didn't say a word in atleast 5 minutes.

"Y/N?" Chishiya whispered. "Was there someone else? Or was i... was i your only one here?"

You didn't turn your head to look at him, you weren't able to, you only nodded awkwardly. Both of you stayed silent for a while longer, not knowing what to say or how exactly to react.

"So, what do we do?" you asked quietly.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," you mumbled and twirled your fingers, gaze on your lap. "I don't know if i can be a mother yet."

"It's still very early, we'll figure it out when we get back home," Chishiya reassured you.

God, if he wasn't there with you you wouldn't know what to do at all.

"What if i decide to keep it?"

"I'll be there with you through every step."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Chishiya planted a kiss on the top of your head, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"What if i want an abortion?"

"Y/N, it's your choice what to do," Chishiya said, his hand on your cheek. "But for now, let's concentrate on the remaining games, alright?"

♤♡♧◇

Chishiya couldn't sleep because of all the different thoughts going on in his mind. The tent was just large enough for the two of you to sleep next to each other, but there was no space left between your bodies.

The thought of you bearing Chishiya's child raised mixed emotions in Chishiya. He had started to grow attached to you during your time together here, only the two of you. It was very unexpected for him, he didn't want to be afraid of someone dying in these games. He wasn't that scared of death himself, and if he didn't care too much others either, he would have felt much more at ease during the games. And by now, it had been like that.

The idea of becoming the father of your child felt so surreal. Of course he knew there was a chance for you getting pregnant, since you weren't always able to use protection - condoms were quite hard to come by here at the moment. Even at the Beach, Chishiya knew that there had been atleast one time when you had had unprotected sex, but he always made sure to pull out early enough. Apparently he had failed with that.

But now the instinct of needing to protect you at all cost grew stronger, and that thought alone started to scare him.

Chishiya looked at your sleeping figure against his body when you turned yourself towards him and put your arm around his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. At first Chishiya thought that you were awake and about to open your eyes any second, until a slight snore came out of your mouth which was slightly open.

You looked so peaceful.

And beautiful.

♤♡♧◇

The next day you went to look for another game and ended up into an old prison.

Jack of Hearts - Solitary Confinement.

The hearts games were the worst, but since you were with one person who you trusted, you had no worries of passing the game. That was, unless Chishiya was going to give you the wrong symbol.

But he wouldn't do that - right?

You spent your time for the first few rounds only following the other people – all complete strangers to each other – ending up betraying others one by one, but it soon got boring to watch.

"What are you doing?" Chishiya asked as he sat next to you. You were holding one of your knives and carving something on the wooden table where you sat by yourself. Other players had gathered at the table next to yours.

"Drawing," you stated.

"With a knife?"

"I didn't find a pen and paper," you shrugged. "And i'm bored."

Chishiya looked at what you were drawing. It was a skull and roses around it. He was impressed how detailed and good the picture actually was.

"You want to draw too or why else are you here?" you asked, turning your head towards him. "I have a second knife you know."

You felt cranky and annoyed, not at Chishiya specifically but everything here. All you wanted to do was to get back home and get rid of this baby immediately. You didn't want it. You felt your mind changing about it every other hour – first you wanted to keep it, then have an abortion, then raise the kid and then again get rid of it.

You were going absolutely insane.

"I'm just bringing you food." Chishiya put a can of soup, bottle of water and a few crackers next to the carvings you had made.

"I'm not hungry," you said and brushed them away from you back to Chishiya, turning back to carving the table.

"I haven't seen you eat in hours," Chishiya said. "You'll have to eat before you start feeling too dizzy and pass out."

You kept your gaze on the table, trying to ignore him.

"Talk to me," Chishiya insisted, but all he got was silence. "Y/N..."

"There's nothing to talk about."

Chishiya was about to say something, but you became ill again and felt something rise up your throat.

"Shit, shit, shit," you mumbled as you bolted up and ran towards the bathroom, hand pressed hard against your mouth. Your knife flew on the floor, but Chishiya picked it up and put it into his pocket.

Right when you kneeled down in front of a toilet, you threw up. Your stomach hurt because there was barely any food in to vomit.

"Miss," a female voice asked behind you. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm, perfect," you mumbled.

"Do you need help, dear?"

"I'm fine."

You stood up and flushed the toilet when you felt like that was all. The woman stood in front of you, blocking your way. She laid her hand on your shoulder.

"Is it a baby?" the woman gasped, eyes widening in joy.

"What? No, i-"

"I can sense an aura around you," she whispered as she cupped your face into her hands. "Another life inside of you."

You only stared at her like she was crazy and on drugs or something.

"I see-"

You pushed her off and walked away from her, out of the restroom.

"Y/N?" Chishiya furrowed his brows as he reached you barely a minute later. "Everything alright?"

"Yea, fantastic," you mumbled and walked past him. You couldn't get very far because Chishiya grabbed your elbow and made you turn around.

You tried to leave but he only tightened his grip on your arm.

"Y/N," Chishiya repeated seriously.

"I don't want to talk, Chishiya," you groaned and tried to yank yourself off from his grip.

He didn't let you go, only pulled you towards him so hard you almost tripped. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in his warm embrace, stroking your hair with his fingers.

Then, you gave up and relaxed in his arms, letting the tears flow down your cheeks.

"I'm just so, so tired of this," you mumbled. "All of this. Everything. I just want to go home."

"I know," Chishiya whispered. "And i'll make sure you'll get there."

Chishiya sat on the floor with you, rubbing your shoulder and trying to figure out what to say to make you feel better, but there was only a few minutes left until you had to be back in your cells.

"Your symbol was clubs, alright?" he reminded you, just in case.

"I know."

♤♡♧◇

As the game ended, you were by the food shelves, collecting a few crackers into your hands. You were not going to leave this place empty-handed when there was still loads of food left to offer.

You didn't have pockets, so you stashed the crackers into your bra.

"What are you doing?" Chishiya asked, arms crossed as he was leaning against the wall a few metres behind you.

"What does it look like?" you asked without looking towards him. "Taking food with me."

"Into your bra?"

"I couldn't find a bag, unfortunately."

When you had collected enough crackers into your bra, you took one more handful of them and offered them to Chishiya, who lifted his right brow in question.

"Stuff these in your pockets," you told him.

"Why?"

"Because you got me pregnant so you're supposed to do everything i tell you," you stated seriously, holding the crackers in your hand.

Chishiya tried to pull the amused smile on his face away, but seemed to fail.

"I'll try to learn the rules soon," he said and took the crackers, moving his gaze down to your breasts. "How many did you put in there?"

"Six."

"You can fit six crackers there?" Chishiya asked, eyebrows lifted up. The crackers had been packed in single packages and weren't small ones either. "Impressive, i think?"

"Yep," you said proudly. "Couple of them are gonna be a little crushed but i don't care."

"Do you always stash stuff in your bra?"

"Of course," you said, like it should be obvious. "Sometimes i wear a size too big bra just because of that."

"Hm," Chishiya smirked.

"So, where do we go now?" you asked as you exited the prison together.

♤♡♧◇

Tags: @audiiix

A/N: I'll have more parts to this, i hope this is okay 🫶🏻❤️ i swear pregnancy won't be a reoccuring theme in my fics in the future.

[rebelsabers]

Your tags:

You’re using disability as a weapon against me in an attempt to silence me and avoid addressing the actual point of this conversation, and that’s something I won’t stand for. I don’t need anyone to define my position on disability or what it means to be a victim because I live it. What’s even worse is the narrative you’re trying to push about disabled people in the tags. You said disgusting things in the tags that should never have to be read by anyone, especially someone who has men in their life who are visibly disabled, and survivors of things similar to the character you’re claiming to defend. I shouldn’t have had to read disgusting comments in the tags that apply to people I know in real life. It’s sickeningly offensive. The assumptions you’re making about my experiences are not only misguided—they’re deeply disrespectful and actively bigoted. The idea that you think it’s okay to reduce the complexity of disabled people’s lives into a simple narrative that fits your argument is disturbing.

I’m tired of seeing these disgusting, baseless accusations thrown at me in the guise of trying to protect some idealized version of a character’s arc. You have no right to weaponize these kinds of assumptions to invalidate my perspective, and frankly, it’s inappropriate. You don’t get to ignore my lived experiences and create a narrative about me based on your own discomfort with accountability and desire to flee responsibility. The real issue here is that you’re deflecting from the actual point—the way Sam Wilson’s journey is being sidelined by this constant focus on Bucky—and instead, you’re using these attacks to distract from your own inability to engage with the conversation in a meaningful way.

Stop weaponizing disability, stop making wild, inaccurate assumptions about me, and let black characters/Sam Wilson have his moment without trying to erase him for the sake of your favoritism of a white character. This narrative doesn’t belong to you, and it’s time to stop pretending that it does.

It’s time to stop making up false narratives and take a hard look at why you’re so intent on making this all about a white character’s past instead of allowing a Black character to have his moment. This isn’t about ableism(and it never was. You brought that out of nowhere to deflect and derail the conversation)—it’s about allowing Sam to have his own space to be Captain America. Your continual attempts to push Bucky’s story into his space while making disgusting assumptions about my beliefs are doing nothing but harming the conversation.

Your disgusting deflection and fictional rhetoric about me aside, let’s get something else out of the way.

First off, don’t try to belittle me with “calm down” or “sounding paranoid”—that’s just a deflection and frankly, dismissive. I’m calling out a pattern I’ve been seeing, which is fans continually sidelining Sam in his own movie for the sake of focusing on Bucky. It’s not a joke when people repeatedly insist on making Sam's film about someone else. Sam deserves his moment without being overshadowed, especially by a character who’s already had multiple arcs. And for the record, Bucky having a 1-minute scene doesn't change the larger issue: this is Sam’s movie, and constantly bringing up Bucky detracts from Sam’s growth and journey.

This isn’t just about Bucky or Sam. This is about respect for Sam Wilson, a Black character finally getting his own movie and story after years of being in the background. It’s frustrating that every time Sam has the chance to stand in the spotlight, people seem to want to pull him back and make it about Bucky or Steve. This is a clear example of the systemic issue where Black characters are constantly sidelined in their own narratives in favor of white characters. Sam is finally becoming Captain America, and yet there’s this need from some fans to focus on Bucky’s backstory—again. Why? Because he’s a white character? It’s no accident that the same fans who are trying to make Sam’s film about Bucky are the ones who refuse to let a black character have his own arc. This isn’t about fandom preferences; it’s about the fact that black characters are too often given less room to develop on their own, while white characters are constantly shoved into their space.

Bucky’s story is important, absolutely—but let’s be real here: this movie is not his. We’ve already seen Bucky’s arc in The First Avenger, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, Infinity War, Endgame, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He’s had plenty of screen time and emotional exploration. Sam has not. But instead of letting Sam have his time, you’re trying to pivot it back to Bucky. That’s the problem. There’s a deep-seated history of white characters being allowed to dominate narratives at the expense of characters of color, especially black characters. Sam having his own movie, his own arc, should be celebrated, not minimized by those who think it’s somehow acceptable to sideline him for someone else’s story.

You can claim this is all about “Bucky’s trauma” all you want, but what you’re really doing is excusing a harmful pattern where the emotional journey of Black characters is undervalued and overshadowed by the the fandom’s favoritism for white characters. What you're doing—trying to make it all about Bucky—reinforces the idea that it’s more important for Bucky to get more screentime than for Sam to have a moment to be his own character, especially in the context of being a black man taking on the mantle of Captain America. Sam’s trauma is deeply tied to the weight of being a Black man in America, and that’s something that can’t just be glossed over by making it about Bucky every time they share a scene or talking about how bucky should be there. You can’t just keep deflecting Sam’s journey and importance because it’s more comfortable for you to focus on a white character. It’s dismissive, it’s disrespectful, and it perpetuates the narrative that black stories are secondary.

I know i’m being overly repetitive for a normal person, but you really seem to be the kind that need it explained to you multiple times to get it. Especially since you keep trying to to deflect, derail, and make so many excuses for this behavior.

You can’t ignore the fact that Sam, as Captain America, isn’t just a superhero—he’s also a black man who has to overcome systemic oppression, and that needs to be explored. But instead of letting Sam shine, you’d rather focus on Bucky. It’s frustrating, because people of color often have to fight tooth and nail to get space in these narratives—and then, when they finally get it, it’s undermined by others who refuse to let them exist without constantly dragging them back into someone else’s story.

So, yes, this is a problem. It’s not about the fact that Bucky’s trauma matters (which wasn’t even part of the post and isn’t relevant)—it does—but the problem is that you and others are so focused on his past and his character, that you’re missing the point of Sam’s story. Sam Wilson, as Captain America, is carrying the weight of history. He’s carrying the weight of being a Black man in America, and that’s something that deserves to be explored without being overshadowed by Bucky, Steve, or anyone else. No matter how much you like that character. You can keep saying Sam has more screen time than Bucky in this one film just for once, but the issue here isn’t about how much time Bucky gets; it’s about how much space Sam is allowed to take up in his own movie. You’re contributing to a culture that consistently tries to diminish the importance of Black characters and their stories.

Sam deserves his own moment without constantly having to support a white character’s journey. So, no—this isn’t about ableism, and it isn’t about invalidating Bucky’s trauma or anything else you want to deflect the conversation with. It’s about the simple fact that Sam Wilson is finally getting his moment, and it’s being undermined by people like you who can’t seem to let go of the need to make it about someone else, someone who’s already had their time in the spotlight.

Someone white.

That’s what this is really about.

"Sam, you are not going to believe how exponentially badly my day is going."

"Probably not as badly as mine, Buck"

[nobodyfamousposts]

Scarlet Lady Top 10 Favorite Characters: Number 9

for @zoe-oneesama

Number 10 Here

Now let’s be fair about this. This list is subjective and according to my own personal bias. It’s not about who is deserving or who is “Best Boy/Girl”. These are just the top ones I like and enjoy seeing in the comic. My favorites may not be your favorites and I quite frankly don’t expect them to be anyone else’s favorites in the same order or even on the same list at all. And just because someone is not on my list doesn’t mean I don’t like them or that I don’t find value in them.

This is just a list of the characters I like the most and my reasonings as to why. What makes me like them? What makes them stand out? Because Scarlet Lady has a LOT of really great characters who all deserve a shout out, so these are just ten of them that stuck out to me the most.

And while I am at least attempting to value them here on their own merit in the Scarlet Lady comic as opposed to Canon or its many MANY issues or the differences between the two, it stands to reason that at least SOME mention of Canon is going to be made. That said, I am trying very hard to not rate them based on my feelings from Canon but more on how I feel about them in this comic.

And because naturally I like my dramatic moments, I’m going to do the list in descending order from number 9 to number 1.

So without further ado…

…

…

Number 9: Alya

I love Alya in Scarlet Lady. So much so that I feel bad that she’s not higher on the list, but to be fair, she has some pretty tough competition. And it says something when that’s the case because it feels to me like everyone deserves a spot on this list…it’s just that some deserve it a little bit more.

Alya certainly warrants her spot on this list. She was one of the characters with the fewest changes from her setup in canon and yet ended up with such a major and lasting impact that her canon self can’t match.

But if I have to break down the reasons:

1. Alya is a good friend.

When mention is made of Alya being Marinette’s best friend, SL!Alya is the version that comes to mind for me. And honestly, she’s the image I long had and long wished for Alya of canon.

A friend who is supportive in all the right ways. A friend needing her own level of support. A friend who will disagree with you on points but still be your friend. A friend who can make mistakes and jump to conclusions but you can always forgive because you know she would do the same for you.

In Mr. Pigeon, Alya was willing to throw down with Chloe Bourgeois to defend Marinette’s honor and her hat design. And this was only two episodes after Lady Wifi, where Chloe had abused her power to get Alya suspended over a relatively minor infraction that had literally nothing to do with Chloe except that Chloe chose to be offended by Alya’s incorrect conclusion. Sure, it can arguably be for payback (given how keen Alya was to confront Chloe), but let’s be honest here: after being forced into a position where you are completely helpless at the hands of a bully and even authority figures are not willing or able to step in, most people would hesitate to confront the bully again regardless of whether they know they’re in the right. And Alya arguably didn’t have proof at the time that Marinette’s hat was actually her original creation.

And yet, Alya was going to act anyways. WANTED to act. For friendship. For vengeance. Not quite sure HOW she was intending to take down Chloe in this case, but I imagine it would have landed her in trouble again and she was fully willing to do so on behalf of her friend.

And speaking of her friend, remember Alya in Reflekta? She was excited of the idea of Marinette being a hero and part of me thinks she really pushed the “Marinette is Scarlet Lady” angle because she idolized Scar at the time and very much WANTED her to be Marinette—someone she also adores. Having two of her favorite people be one and the same would have been amazing for her! Sadly (or fortunately depending on your view) that was not the case, but Alya still got to have her moments of seeing her best friend as a hero, and her starry eyes sell it for me. As does Marinette later arranging an interview for her as Marigold—something especially important given in this version, one of the two primary heroes simply has no time for interviews while the other wouldn’t give a blog like Alya’s the time of day regardless of how much Alya did to help promote her.

Plus how in Troublemaker, she got the entire class to come to school dressed in Chat Noir gear to show support for the poor catboy and to help protect Marinette after the way her room and her multitude of pictures of Chat Noir were revealed on live television. Just to try and limit her friend’s embarrassment after her privacy was violated and her crush was outted.

See this? This is the friendship I wanted to see in canon. The ride or die. A counterweight. Supporting each other in reasonable and healthy ways. To be able to say with certainty that when the chips are down, they have each others’ backs. And Alya does.

Then there’s the Love Square—and if the change to the setup didn’t already improve how it went, then Alya’s involvement certainly did.

Part of the reason the Love Square struggled in Canon was because of how forcefully it was pushed with such shoddy foundation, and Alya was the biggest pusher. She forced so many situations out of some misguided attempt to “help” that only ended up creating stress for Marinette, cringe for the writing, and no actual momentum on the progress of the pairing. If you want a metaphor, then let’s describe it like this: If the Love Square is an actual ship and if Alya was a tug boat, she wouldn’t have been helping her ship “set sail” so much as dragging it underwater across the ocean and to its watery demise.

But in Scarlet Lady, Alya is supportive and encouraging—and not in the way where she blows off Marinette’s anxieties or Adrien’s obliviousness and forces them both into a position they’re clearly not ready for only to turn around and be annoyed that it didn’t work out. 

No, she was aware of Marinette’s feelings and interests to the point she recognizes Marinette has a small crush on Adrien even before the girl herself did. She also seemed to be aware of Adrien’s crush on her. So knowing this, she tried to help nudge things along. Note I said “NUDGE”. 

She knows a spark could be there. So when Alya had an opportunity, she helped to set things up in a way that would give Marinette and Adrien time together to explore that. Not to confess. Not to date. Just opportunities to be together, interact, and see what happens.

Heck, it feels at times like she’s more of Adrien’s wingman than Marinette’s. Especially given the whole bit in Stormy Weather, which remains to date one of my favorite strips of the entire series. Alya was the reason Marinette even made it there in the first place. And when she was picked for the modeling spot, she still tried to influence things to let Marinette take over. Similar to canon, yes, but a notably better feel to it. Better humor. Better outcome.

Which is ultimately what a friend should be trying for. For ALL of her friends.

And by the end of the comic, I can say that Alya is a friend to not just Marinette, but also Adrien and Alix and the other classmates. Yes, even Lila. Which says something given how much she initially despised Lila for the fake interview and how long she held that grudge against her. Going from outright dislike to grudgingly hanging out with to swallowing her pride and giving a real chance to actual collaboration on revealing a major truth.

Now that’s progress.

And speaking of progress…

2. Journalist Has A Point

Look, many a story will have THAT character. You know the one. Whether a detective, journalist, or conspiracy theorist, THAT character is devoted to uncovering the truth, whatever it may be—and usually in the form of plot-relevant secrets and useful information. 

So one of the biggest disappointments you can create is having such a character 

with all the drive and reasoning to investigate be in a prime position to uncover a major plot point, in which you give them all the resources and all the motivation to make the discovery…and yet have them do nothing.

Or worse, have the truth spoon fed to them instead when it’s convenient. No effort. No drama or antics. No surprise. No real reaction to the revelation. Just take away all the fun why don’t you?

Alya is a major fan of heroes and a journalist in the making. When these things mix, you have a ready-made source of humor and drama in a character with the dual position of he hero’s best friend who doesn’t know her secret and a wannabe investigator who risks discovering the hero’s secret. Normally, such a position would involve a number of antics over a multitude of episodes, with the friend being in a prime position to out the hero and the hero having to regularly come up with ways to distract and mislead the friend in question in order to protect the secret.

In canon, we get all of two episodes that even play with this setup. Two in the four seasons it takes for Marinette to just blurt it out to Alya. Lady Wifi and Pharaoh. That’s it. And of those two, Lady Wifi had Marinette completely unconcerned with Alya’s claim of knowing Ladybug’s identity. No drama. No conflict. No antics. No attempts at misdirection. No introspection or question if maybe revealing the city’s hero is even a good idea. No internal questioning if Alya should be told the secret—if she’s trustworthy or if she would be in danger. No continued attempts to uncover her identity as if Alya had just gotten bored with it. Nothing.

And if you know anything from my previous essays, you know that few things frustrate me more than having a great setup that practically writes itself and doing NOTHING WITH IT.

In Scarlet Lady, that setup is nixed from the start since Marinette didn’t start off as the hero. Instead, what we have is a situation where Alya idolizes the self-proclaimed hero of the city, completely ignorant to the truth that we as the audience were already immediately made aware of: that said hero is Chloe and she is ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE!

Marinette is aware of her being horrible. Adrien is FULLY aware of her being horrible. WE all know she is horrible. But Alya, like most of the city, is enthralled and supportive of her as the “Hero of the City”.

This change immediately created a whole new setup. Where Alya is a fan of a hero while being ignorant to that hero’s true nature. Where WE know and even other characters in the show know, but it’s impossible to convince anyone else of this truth. I’m sure you all know what it’s like watching any character in that sort of situation. It hurts. But not as much as it’s bound to hurt her by the end.

And indeed it does, as it kickstarts what initially starts off as a funny setup where Marinette and others stay quiet and try to be supportive while inwardly cringing as Alya creates and manages a blog dedicated to the worst person ever sans Hawk Moth and Gabriel Agreste.

Adding to this is that said person won’t give Alya or her blog the time of day. Chloe has no respect or appreciation for the level of commitment Alya has or how much Alya helped her to get her fame, and even calls Alya a “stalker” at one point. (Not that she’s technically wrong to be fair, but bear with me.) This is a testament to Chloe’s view of heroism as a whole and her expectations regarding the treatment she should receive. Nevermind that Chloe’s initial rise to the spotlight was in great part because Alya was the one to put said spotlight on her in the first place. Chloe doesn’t acknowledge favors, only what she is owed.

This puts Alya in a difficult position. Unlike Canon, she doesn’t have the support of a hero to promote her blog. She is a teenager with no preexisting status as a reporter and no real connections or backing for people to take her seriously. And in a world of already established media and tons of fans like herself no doubt also trying to make names for themselves in similar niche areas, she has nothing to really make herself stand out. What ends up working for her is the live footage she gets of the akumas and the battles, which is exceedingly dangerous and puts Alya in danger. But to her, it’s worth it to be able to enjoy her two passions.

It is painful. It HURTS me to see Alya so devoted to someone who I know full well doesn’t deserve it and it hurt even MORE to see how Alya was finally forced to face the truth. Her reaction was real. Her difficulty accepting the truth that we all knew from the start and that Alya could have (and probably should have) picked up on as a journalist if she only investigated everything outside of the “Heroes WOW” light.

But this doesn’t make me look badly upon Alya. It’s not entirely her fault. It’s reasonable that Alya wouldn’t have known. Given Scar’s refusal to work with anyone outside of publications that “meet her standards”, Alya hadn’t gotten to interact closely enough with Scar to really see her “in action” so to speak. Not for some time.

Alya does ultimately end up finding the truth, but it’s not the one she initially went searching for. What started out as a love for heroes mixed with her interest in journalism slowly turned into a realization of what heroism actually is and who the true heroes are…and aren’t.

And with this realization comes a new outlook, new alliances, new goals, and a new plan to reveal the truth about Scar and just who is really the hero or the “sidekick” in the heroes team.

This here? This gives Alya purpose. It also emphasizes her role in the story and the impact she has. Because over time, the thing that most showed her flaws and ignorance became a major strength—AND ended up benefiting the city as a whole.

She was the only person who actively tried to help Chat when he was on the run in Copycat and gave him the info to know what was going on and who the true culprit was (especially important because Adrien had NO way of knowing what was going on or why he was being framed and Scar certainly wasn’t going to help).

She gave Lila and others a chance to share their stories that otherwise never would have been told. Especially notable given Alya’s initial dislike of Lila for her lies, something she continued to hold a grudge over for a long time after.

And as a result, she is a major contributor to Scar’s declining popularity as she helps spread the truth. Which adds a nice bit of irony to the situation that the little blog that gave Chloe her start and that she ignored ended up becoming something so major that it destroyed her narrative. 

Alya had been seeking the truth, been blinded to it, struggled to accept it, went out of her way to confirm it, and then shared it. Maybe it’s not as impressive as taking down the akumas directly, but it has a much greater overall impact on the story and helping get some of that sweet sweet karma we’d all been waiting for. And best of all, she does the one thing that many of us have also been wanting for Canon: to have SOMEONE investigate Hawk Moth and realize the puzzle pieces are pointing at Gabriel Agreste. 

If only she could have confirmed it a little sooner…

3. Alya as a Person

Alya is a teenager. She is a teenage girl and that shines in Scarlet Lady.

We see her PUMPED at the discovery of heroes in Paris. We see her genuinely EXCITED over the prospect of being a hero. We see her flip her focus and be SERIOUS over serious and not so serious things. We see her unapologetically and hilariously reject Adrien’s pleas for a trade of jobs only to be a hypocrite and turn around and beg him for the same. We see her get terrifyingly ENRAGED at Nino for changing her script without discussing it with her. We see her be PETTY and RESENTFUL over falling for Lila’s lies. We see her be IN LOVE after Animan. Plus how could I not love her sheer GLEE over getting to face off with Nora?

But what really made me love this Alya and put her leagues above canon is her growth. Growth that she didn't really get in Canon. And a lot of that growth was evident through her discovery of the truth that was right in front of her and how she had gone so long without seeing it.

And when she is finally hit with the reality that her hero is no hero and that she was wrong? It’s hard. No kid wants to admit being wrong about anything, but especially not about a belief like that. Not the idea of heroes and not over your hero specifically. Especially when you realize you spent so LONG devoted to something only to find out you were wrong, other people knew, and you could have/SHOULD have known had you really tried to look.

And Alya….did NOT take it like a champ.

Denial was the name of the game. But her growth came in acknowledging that she was wrong, WHERE she went wrong, and taking steps to move forward with what she knew. Not by doubling down and demanding “evidence” that should have been easy to find if she just looked, but by investigating the truth even if it’s one she knew she wouldn’t like. And even if it involved things she didn’t want to do. To this end, she made up with Lila and the two actually ended up working together to change the tide of public opinion against her over time. 

Let’s note that: She went back on her earlier promise to herself, forgave and worked with someone that she disliked, and let go of her own pride and resentment in order to get to the truth that she originally never wanted to acknowledge.

Alya in Scarlet Lady plays more of a role in the series than she did in Canon. She wasn’t just “Marinette’s best friend” and “Ladybug fangirl” or a tool or prop for setting up certain scenes where Marinette suffers or Adrinette is given a half hearted attempt.

Alya is her own person. She disliked someone the others like or come to like. She adored someone the others and even we as the audience couldn’t stand. She stood up to her sister for herself and with the backing of her friends. She was silly at times for all that she tried to be serious and mature. She was oblivious and opinionated. She was wrong about a core issue to the story.

And that was perfectly okay.

Not because the narrative said so. Not because anything she did was hand waved. Not because Marinette or anyone else was thrown in as a scapegoat to distract attention away from her.

But because Alya is a well-written character with a personality that makes her a PERSON rather than a prop. Which makes her development into a hero feel rewarding rather than an obligation.

4. Alya as a Hero

Okay, Sapotis in Canon wasn’t bad. It worked as a new hero episode. It worked as the FIRST new hero episode. It made sense for Alya to help corral her sisters. I loved Trixx and his subtle means of testing Alya. It also had Alya getting some personal development as she changes from her initial stance of wanting to reveal her identity as a hero to knowing when to keep some truths hidden.

The problem is that lesson didn’t really stick as Alya goes on to demand a truth from Marinette that isn’t her right to know, try to force Marinette to tell a truth when she isn’t ready to reveal it, and betray Marinette’s trust and reveal the secret just to make things easier for herself and her relationship with Nino.

Gotta say, not impressed with Alya as a hero in Canon. Especially given how much the narrative had gone out of its way to keep portraying Alya as being in the right in each instance she was involved in regardless of what she actually did.

Then there’s the matter of the issue of her getting the Fox Miraculous after everything that happened with Lila and the complete LACK of Fox Vs Fox/Alya VS Lila/Truth VS Lies setup that such a setup would have been primed for. And if they weren’t going to do that or even anything with Alya and Trixx, then what was the point of giving Alya the Fox? There was just really nothing else that came out of a truth-seeker like Alya getting a Miraculous specifically involved in setting illusions and how that could develop her character.

@punchlord has already done multiple evaluations of the characters and Miraculous and which ones would best/least fit and why, and has done so much more detailed and eloquently than I can really offer here. Instead, I want to focus on SL!Alya and the changes Zoe made.

Here’s the thing: we all knew going in that Zoe was going to follow Canon for the most part. She admitted as such. We also knew that some kwami-swapping was bound to happen as a result of the changes to the world. Chloe gets the Ladybug. Marinette gets the Bee. Sabrina was bound to get something at some point that wasn’t the Dog. And yes, Lila too.

But NONE of us were expecting that Alya and Nino would swap their Miraculous AND their hero episodes!

And it worked. It worked so well.

Koki Marina is an awesome hero with such a stand-out look. And the one image of her playing with her fluffy hair always makes me smile.

The changes Zoe made vastly improved the Anansi storyline. Nino deserved his own hero episode that wasn’t just focus on him secondary to an issue for Alya and ultimately accomplish nothing on his own while someone else solves the problem for him...twice. And Alya deserved to be the one to deal with Nora and take control of her life.

The thing is, this was an episode with a lesson that was misplaced. Misplaced andmishandled, much like many episodes in the original series.

In Anansi, the biggest problem wasn’t that Nino couldn’t prove he could protect Alya, it was that Nora was overstepping on Alya’s life in the first place, especially when it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t consider that ANYONE ELSE could protect Alya—even the heroes when it is their job to fight the akumas. 

But more specifically, she wasn’t willing to consider that Alya could protect HERSELF. Especially of note considering that by this point in both versions, Alya had been running around and getting involved in the fights with the heroes for blog views. And in Canon specifically, Alya had already been a temp hero—I was surprised and disappointed that Alya didn’t argue more and struggle with NOT revealing that fact in the episode. But I digress…

If Alya was to get a hero episode, this was the better setup for it. And Zoe saw that and provided us that sweet sweet payout, with Alya proving herself and helping to take down her older sister. And just the absolute GLEE she had in doing so. The sort of glee you’d see in any younger sibling getting a chance to take on and show up their older sibling. All the younger siblings out there should know it. 

Plus her and Wayzz bonding, omg they are so cute.

While Canon Sapotis was decent (if not a bit frustrating with the lack of lessons for the twins after all their antics), in my view, SL Anansi actually HIT in all the right ways and felt more satisfying overall in comparison as Alya’s hero episode and ESPECIALLY in comparison to the Canon Anansi itself. 

It’s a good episode with a stable episode-centric arc, where the conflict starts with Alya NOT really being able to face down Nora alone and only manages to overpower Nora in an arm wrestling contest because her friends back her and take on Nora in a 4 on 1 match and overpower her together. This is highlighted later in the episode when Alya faces Nora alone to buy Marigold time and is shown to struggle. Then gets the power boost through the Turtle Miraculous that lets her effectively take her down save her. Cough. Yes. Just save her.

It’s a very empowering story for Alya. But it plays a bigger role than that, too. It’s not just the start of Alya being a hero, it’s also the point where she really starts to turn things around in terms of the overarching story of the comic.

This episode is the follow up to Sapotis, where the other characters are having a sleepover partly to look after the younger kids but also specifically to try and support Alya as she comes to terms with the realization that her hero is a fraud. Yes, Alya already knew that Scar was horrible by the time Anansi happened, but actually being a hero and having to work with Scar gives her an up close and personal look at how Scar treats the other heroes and how much—or rather little she actually does in a crisis.

It’s also the point where Alya seems to gain more confidence and also direct her reporting to a better end. And by the end of the episode, we really see Alya starting to use her skills to this purpose. This is when we get to see Alya actually BE the journalist she wanted to claim she was.

This? Right here? This goes to show that not only does Alya herself make a great hero, but that becoming a hero helped Alya improve herself as well. Which is something we should be seeing more of in such stories with teenagers gaining superpowers.

So all that being said, SL Alya succeeds where her Canon counterpart fails. The narrative points out when she’s wrong. She learns lessons. She is silly at times and acknowledged to be silly. But through it all, she retains the heart that makes her a good friend and the passion that shows her to be not only a journalist, but a HERO in the making.

[slytherweasel]

MC is still MC! There is no ‘original’

Spoilers most likely

Let me start that saying that this is my opinion based on the game and my personal knowledge and understanding of general science fiction logic and the game itself.

The Love and Deepspace timeline is very complicated and confusing. I will fully admit that I don’t even fully understand it, but based on my understanding MC is always MC. She is the same MC no matter what. What differs in the timelines are the love interests. Past lives are not necessarily a different person. So you have a Rafayel timeline, Xavier timeline, Zayne timeline, Sylus timeline, Caleb timeline

Rafayel’s and Xavier’s timelines fairly up front with them being the same.

Rafayel- a Lumerian, the Sea God, 800+ years old (as long as I’m understanding his timeline correctly), and he’s found MC throughout her many lives. I do not have his limited myth pair but from my understanding that was their first meeting. MC does not retain these memories when she essentially reincarnates as herself, but Rafayel stays bond to her, she is still his “devout follower.”

Xavier- my most basic understanding of it is the MC of the future was being used as the life source of the planet and Xavier (rightfully so) was not happy about that and wanted to save her, so he left her (wrongful so), but he came back and she died in his arms. I would also like to add while I think Xavier’s timeline is pretty up front about who he is, the actual events of his timeline hurt my brain to comprehend. Being as this is a very far ahead in the future MC she would have no memories of Xavier anyway. The lack of memories is what makes her seem different (especially to Xavier, at least at first).

Zayne- He also has no memories of his past lives, but Zayne is still Zayne. He is still cursed by Astra to suffer and die for loving MC instead of killing her. If Zayne was a different Zayne why would he still be cursed by Astra? I do need to reread his Dawnbreaker stuff but it seems to be a future Zayne and he is remembering a past version of himself (Dr. Zayne) that has MC (I assume MC has already died in this future). And present time Zayne is having dreams of future Zayne. I do hope they’ll properly explain the connect these Zaynes are having with each other. I am guessing there is a sort of rift or something due to future Zayne not having an MC to love/kill. I believe that is what Astra wants, he feels Zayne betrayed him the first time just for loving her, so he will continue to torture him until he does give in and kill her. Same timeline, same people, different lives.

Sylus- We are out a good chuck of info compared to the OG 3 but we do have his limited myth which helps. My understanding is his limited myth is the first time MC meets him. MC then curses Sylus after he dies to always live by her side until she says otherwise. Sylus is born again and finds present time MC only to realize that she has no memories of their past together, but it is still their past. He still loves her because she is still his MC, she is still the girl he fell in love with. You can also draw many characteristics and habits Sylus carries over from when he was a dragon with horns (because he is still a dragon at heart). He still doesn’t understand music and is tone deaf but he loves it because of MC, he is still a treasure hoarder and loves buying MC things, and he is still a creature of the dark just more figurative speaking.

Caleb- He was just released and only has a present time myth at the moment, so I don’t have much for him yet. But we can infer he watched MC die multiply times, that he is all too aware of how she loses her memories after dying. I assume the controlled environment of the lab is what controlled where and possibly how old MC would be when reborn. She was still the same MC, just without the memories.

The overall of this is that guys fall for who MC is, not what she looked like. The fundamentals of who MC is never changed when she died, she always remained the woman they love. There is no reason for these ‘would he leave present MC for the one he first met’ videos. That is just not how timelines work. The myths are not AUs, they are past, present, or future lives. Based on my understanding of science fiction, those are two very different things.

Spoilers for Catch-22 banner

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This banner takes place in an alternate universe. It very obviously states that for us, so there should be no questions about that.

I will be using Rafayel for this because 1. He’s my main and I love him lol and 2. I’ve watch his card like 4 times already.

We’ve established who Rafayel is in the original universe. He is none of those things isn’t this AU. He’s not even a painter. He’s an opera singer who got bite by a Praedator (basically a werewolf). They also do not have that Lumerian bond but they do give you a parallel for it. He gets that chip implanted in him that allows only MC to essentially control him. This is a different Rafayel and a different MC, while you can draw parallels that match the original universe they are different people, different timeline, completely different universe. Xavier’s also has a similar and obvious parallel with the plant Philos (original universe) and organization Philos (Alt universe) and him being the Prince/Heir.

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This rant is basically due to all the sad photos with the frame background and the posts I’ve been seeing talking about the guys leaving present MC for the MC of the past or future. I just don’t agree and feels like is causing unnecessary heartbreak. That’s not my understanding of how the LaDs timelines works.

[thefluxsystem]

10 mindsets about my DID that have helped my system:

[This is solely for the sake of sharing experiences & supplying food for thought. This post is not implying these takes are the “right way” to view systemhood.]

1. We’re individuals and we’re parts of a whole. We see each other as people in our system, but in a different way than those in their own bodies. We share a brain. We share a life. I’m me, but I’m also him/her/them at the same time. If you take a piece out of a puzzle, it doesn’t cease to exist, right? It’s still its own object. It just doesn’t make much sense when it stands alone. We need each other to be truly complete.

2. Time keeps coming. I know it’s not an unlimited resource, but it’s not scarce either. Okay, so somebody in the system didn’t get to do what they planned today. They’ll do it tomorrow. No big deal. No need to fight about it or stress over “how I’ll ever manage all this”. We’ll simply give it another shot in the morning.

3. Reality is subjective. We’re a very philosophically-inclined system, and I could write books on what “reality is subjective” means. Basically, reality is based on perception. On a societal level, it is based in the common agreement of what something is. If anyone’s perception tests the limits of this common agreement, it is labeled as untrue. This ties into why DID is largely disbelieved; it doesn’t fit in with the common reality (perception) of the average person. So it is seen as fake. And, well, if I’m going to be told I’m wrong for the most basic, inherent part of this disorder… I don’t really care if they disagree with any other aspect of it. My reality is different. That’s okay.

4. There is no original. I strongly believe the Theory of Structural Dissociation. Maybe science will prove it wrong with a more suitable theory to take its place in the future, but it’s what I roll with at the moment. Now, to us, this translates as “there is no original/we were all the original”. We’re Adventure Time fans, so we think of it like the “Mother Gum”. If all of the Mother Gum broke off into people (like PB & Neddy), no specific one of them would be “the original”. Rather, they’d all be repurposed parts of the original whole. (In a less serious way, we like to say “we all came from the primordial personality soup”.)

5. Our body is shared equally. We’ve decided our body has its own identity & “look” that helps represent us as a whole, but doesn’t take after one member specifically. In a gnawingly self-aware way, I know this is a further form of dissociation. But adopting this view changed a lot for us in a positive way. We don’t fight about hair or clothes anymore, we don’t have discomfort around our legal name, we don’t even really have struggles with gender/sexuality anymore. (We identify differently internally, but externally we identify as nonbinary & bisexual. Even if the person fronting at the moment is, for example, a gay man.)

6. Be open-minded to what happens internally. Seems straightforward enough, but we’ve wasted a lot of time trying to “make rules” for each other in the system. The biggest example I can think of is in-system dating. Around 10 years ago, as we became more aware of each other, it became clear that two system members were basically in love. We immediately became defensive. We told them that they couldn’t do that, that two system members being together was absurd & “impossible”. (This view became stronger after discovering online system spaces & “fakeclaimers” that come with it.) Though we regret it now, we shamed those two a lot in the hopes they’d drop it. They didn’t. About 3 years later it became an actual problem. They didn’t trust us; they were fronting & we were coming back to absolutely no memory of it (we usually have a vague idea at least). Eventually, they wrote us a whole thing about how they were going to be together & there was really nothing anyone could do about it, seeing as we couldn’t technically keep them apart. In modern day, we’ve had an in-system couple recently fuse. Upon reflection, we were standing in the way of genuine healing by trying to break up the first two, and we did so solely out of shame. As long as it isn’t genuinely causing harm, we try to be accepting of each other these days. This applies to a lot of other aspects; how system members appear internally, the pronouns and/or identity labels they choose, anything to do with how system members engage with each other, our differing individual perceptions of an event, etc.

7. We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to love each other. Mostly because, if we don’t, we’re holding hatred for ourself. There are certainly members of my system I would never choose to befriend if we were actually separate people, but we’re not, and we don’t get to act like we are. So even though it’s hard, I’m learning to love every piece that makes up “me”, no matter how difficult they try to make it at times.

8. Nobody’s system works like mine except for mine. Meaning, no two systems are going to be alike, and experiences aren’t often going to translate perfectly. This is true for people who aren’t systems as well— everyone’s experience is going to be different, because nobody is wired exactly the same way. Once I took that to heart, it became easier to focus on my own way of being. I could take the pieces of represented/online systemhood that resonate with me & leave the rest (which probably resonates with someone else).

9. There’s a reason for everything. This kind of ties back into the ‘we have to love each other’ thing. Each component of the system is a clue regarding how to move forward. We had someone in the system getting really uptight & controlling, to a point that it was irritating, but, taking a step back, we recognized it was a response to feeling a lack of control. Instead of simply getting angry at him for how he was acting, we were able to address the problem. My collective self is more laid-back for it.

10. It’s okay not to focus on it all. DID is a part of my life for the rest of it, whether I like it or not, but it’s nice to let it be a background thing every once in a while. Who’s fronting? Who cares. What roles do we have? I don’t know. Who’s this new person in my head? I’ll figure it out later. We’re making it through as a team, and sometimes that’s enough.

[dapperprincess]

I think that plastic surgery isnt you doing anything to your body. It’s you paying someone else to do something to your body, and as such needs regulations in place so that these surgeons, who are motivated by money, do not exploit vulnerable populations, such as anorexic people.

In the same way that a doctor treating a disease should be held accountable if she botches the treatment in order to accumulate more money through repeated services, plastic surgeons should be held to much higher standards than they are currently. All of the onus should be on the doctor accepting pay for a service, not the patient who is paying for the service. Also, much like a doctor treating an illness, plastic surgeons should have to have undeniable proof that their treatments actually work to alleviate the patient’s problems at least the majority of the time. This is not currently the case. Plastic surgeons have almost no regulations on their work. One plastic surgeon can do a nose job and the next won’t touch you because she doesnt know what the first one actually did. There need to be a set of standard practices.

Not to mention that a regular doctor would be fired for malpractice if they told you you looked flu-like as an outright lie to bolster treatment sales when you were just in for stitches, whereas a plastic surgeon can accept a patient for a nose job and throw in a few jabs about her belly and all of a sudden the plastic surgeon has more money made off of insecurity and lies.

That being said, I dont think as many people would desire to risk their health for aesthetic changes to their body if our society did not place such a high value on appearance, especially upon women, who are expected to be thinner than healthily possible if they wish to be respected in the public eye.

But to reiterate, none of this responsibility should fall on the people getting the plastic surgery. These all need to be put in place to regulate the doctors, because otherwise all that motivates them is money made from the job, just like any other job under capitalism.

crazy to me how some people think conversion torture/forced detransition is actually a privilege when it happens to trans men/mascs

[neoplatinum]

double shot | yoo 'karina' jimin

summary: co-manager by day, seductress by night

pairing: co-manager!stripper!karina x reader

themes: work, strippers, money, sexual themes

wc: 2.5k

“the copier is jammed, could you take a look at it?” you and everyone else in that room knew that the copier being jammed was way below your paygrade to fix, but given that budget cuts have recently been made, there’s little to no allocation to hire someone to fix it. so why not call you, manager of the human resources division to fix it up.

you grumble a bit to yourself before walking right over to the storage unit, grabbing an old toolbox and soon caught yourself fiddling with the large machine. you can already spot the issue, jammed paper stuck in the feeder. you try your best to yank it out of the tray. It just wouldn’t budge, even with a jiggle and pushing the tray around didn’t help. 

taking out your phone, you bit it between your teeth, trying your best to get a better angle of the jam. it wasn’t even put into the right tray. everyone knows tray 3 is the correct one to put the papers in. with a huff you give a bit more effort, pushing the paper in and yanking it out. nearly knocking yourself out with sheer force.

“i do not get paid enough to deal with this too.” you think to yourself, and mostly thinking about the sweet and warm croissant sitting at your desk, ready for you to devour. you nearly lose fall forward into the machine when you hear a quiet “hello.” almost too quiet that it would blend into the cacophony of phones ringing, the coffee machine running and the low hum of the air conditioner.

you stick your head out of the printer, and before you is one of the most gorgeous women you’ve seen in your life. adorned with thick rimmed black glasses and plump red lips to match. her eyes peer into you and flit between you and the machine.

“do you need help with that?” she offers, in a neutral tone. 

you’ve never seen her around before. she looks put together though, more put together than the new intern your company just hired.

you manage to pull yourself together with what little core strength you have and duck out of the machine. making way for her to inspect the paper jam, and taking the phone of your mouth. realizing how ridiculous you look under this light.

“sure, go for it.” you offer. stuffing your phone into your pockets. and watching this newcomer attempt to fix the machine you’ve been wrestling for the past minute. she’s definitely got more core strength than you, balancing perfectly with tall heels and maneuvering herself with ease. you spot the company id hanging in a lanyard around her neck. mirroring the one that you have to wear every day in order to enter and exit the building. 

with ease she manages to pull out the pesky paper, and holds it up triumphantly at you. a warm smile across her face. you offer the same back.

“thanks for your help, the printer’s always given me far too much trouble.” she chuckles at that, throwing the paper into a nearby wastebasket before grabbing a box, seemingly filled with desk items and a colorful mug with crayon shin-chan across it.

“oh, let me help you with that.” you offer, making quick strides to pick up her office supplies, to which she lets you. “are you new here?”

“yes and no.” she offers.

“that’s an interesting response, what do you mean by that?” you say, walking side by side into the open space. rows of computers and laptops filled with people’s personal belongings and you find yourself scanning for an open space. certainly she’s a new hire that upper management hasn’t informed you. upper management has a tendency to forget telling you updates until it’s far too late.

“well, i just transferred to this department. downsizing as mr. shim put it nicely.” you nod with understanding, there’s been a lot of recent changes to the company, and it’s core message with new management. 

the budget cuts, downsizing, replacement of several executive board members. it’s hard to say if you even get to keep your job, a lot of employees have had to take severance packages, even in your department.

“i see, well, welcome to our department, i’m the manager for human resources in this region.” her eyes sparkle a bit, she opens her mouth to say something but it’s quickly silenced by mr. shim’s light and squeaky voice.

“miss. yoo! i see you’ve already met our manager here!” he says with wide eyes and hands clasped together. like he’s presenting everyone gifts here.

“yes, mr. shim. i just met them.” she stiffens up, keeping a professional distance from him.

“that’s great! you two need to build camaraderie here. is that her stuff?” mr. shim beelines towards you, grabbing the box of desk supplies out of your hand. and walking away. both you and ms. yoo walk towards the empty office next to yours. he places her box down and even takes out the shin-chan mug from her box.

setting it down proudly before turning to you.

“see, we recently had to merge ms.yoo’s human resource department from yeonnam-dong to here. so there’ll be a lot of co-managing you two will need to figure out.” he explains more coldly now that he’s out of earshot of most employees. you start to feel a headache brewing at the information. 

mr.shim has always felt that telling you important company updates is a tedious task, so he always does it at the very last second. just last month he sprung a presentation to the company executives onto you two days before it was due. you nearly had an ulcer from the amount of stress you were put under, but you grit through the task, as you always do.

“mr. shim, could you explain that again?” you ask, balling your hand into a fist in your pocket. ms. yoo looks away, already feeling the tension in the room.

“you and ms. yoo will now be co-managing the company’s human resources department together.” he says dryly, probably already daydreaming about taking the rest of the day off to relax while you have to manage to magically fix the company.

“mr. shim, are you serious, what happened to our five division managers?” you offer with more bite to your tone. ms. yoo fidgets with her dress shirt, unable to bear this uncomfortable conversation.

“three were let go yesterday, and just to let you know, i vouched for you in there. it was between you and mr. jung.” he scowls a bit before putting a more professional smile in front of ms. yoo. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have to return to my desk. i trust that you two will sort out this merger.”

with swift steps, he beelines towards the elevators. making his always far too quick exit from your floor. you stare out of the room, letting your shoulders finally slump down with exhaustion, and it’s not even 9 in the morning.

“i’m sorry about that.” you hear quietly, you turn your head back towards ms. yoo. her sheepish expression making you all the more exhausted. not only has mr. shim burdened you, now he’s burdened ms. yoo too.

“no need to apologize, i should apologize really. welcome to our division! i hope we get along well.” you offer a bow with your hand out, she shakes it firmly and offers you the same bow.

“mr. shim can be a lot.” she remarks quietly, slowly taking out desk supplies to adorn her office. 

“yes, he really can.” you say, helping ms. yoo set up her desk. taking out staplers and cute pens from her box,and putting them across her desk. outside of the office you can hear incoming workers from other divisions filing in, each with their own office supplies and curious eyes at joining your team.

ms. yoo stares at you while you stare outside.

--

you offer to host a division team lunch, bringing in all the new and familiar faces with you to a local spot. where your favorite halmeoni cooks her famous soondubu-jigae.

“halmeoni, these are my co-workers!” you shout when you walk in, ms. yoo trailing behind you. examining the restaurant as you talk with her excitedly. she watches the way you offer vitamins to your grandmother, a soft smile on her face.

all your co-workers begin filing in, everyone taking seats around a long table. loud group conversations sparking between different coworkers. you finally take the only open seat next to ms. yoo. offering her a small smile as she scoots for you to sit down.

“so this is your halemoni’s restaurant?” she asks over the loud conversation. 

“yes, she’s the best chef i know. trust me, one bite of her soondubu and you’ll never want to try another place!” you say with excitement. she laughs before looking through the menu.

“meal is on me today, welcome to the team!” you offer with a large smile.

a roar of cheers erupt among your coworkers, mainly the new faces. and soon everyone’s nervous mood is being settled with contentment. you don’t even spot the warm eyes from your co-manager.

--

“good night everyone, see you all tomorrow!” you hear from various coworkers, taking a quick glance up from the stacks of paper work surrounding you, you can see most people have already left. and the sun’s set long ago. you peep through the blinds and notice the bright street lamps and the busy commute back home.

having a quick stretch before walking to grab another coffee, you recount your day. you’ve once again managed to turn a very sour morning into one that’s turned out quite okay. and ms. yoo is an efficient manager, you can see why she was kept in the company. she’s smart, quick and diligent–much like yourself.

you begin to drink your coffee, when you’re pulled out of your thoughts.

“you know it’s not good to drink coffee after 3 right? and certainly not at 6.” she smirks at you, grabbing some hot water for her shin-chan mug.

“well i know it’s not good, but i have to get through this paperwork for tomorrow.” you offer, drinking more of the lukewarm coffee in your mug. you can even see the rings of coffee staining the sides.

“you work yourself to death here.” she offers, turning to you once more. “how long have you been a manager?”

“2 years.” you say in between sips, already feeling the caffeine giving you that push to keep going. “how about you?”

“1 year.” she offers.

“impressive, most people don’t last more than six months here”, you say. giving your mug up as a small cheers to her.

“i could say the same to you, you’re the most efficient manager here.” she says looking back down at her water.

“mhm, that is true. even got an award for it ‘best manager 2023’, i can still see mr. jung’s face when i received the award.” you laugh at the memory.

she laughs and turns away, “well i’m done for the day, so i’ll see you tomorrow, co-manager.” and with a wink she leaves the company kitchen. you stare at her retreating figure, and then back down at your coffee.

--

with a whiskey on ice in one hand and arms languidly laying on the armchair, you stare at the stage in front of you. lights adorning the main stage, and velvet dark red curtains hiding the backstage, a fog machine supplying a steady stream of fog around the base fo the stage. leering men and women all sitting around. there’s already a few girls performing on other stages, but everyone knows the main stage is where to be. they always place their top girl onto the main stage.

you glance left and right, looking at the other performers, none of which that intrigue you, instead, you focus on the disco reflecting the colors like a kaleidoscope. minjeong grins next to you, a martini in hand and she toys with the olive. 

“did you hear they have a new main girl tonight?” minjeong says as she sets her glass down, adjusting her tie a bit.

“i didn’t, you know i don’t get invested in the girls, i just want a performance.” you reply. she gives you a quick eye roll, before fishing through her pant pocket for a flyer.

“that’s what i said too, until i saw giselle.” she says, unfolding the flyer in hand. you can see in big bold serif letters. ‘Friday Grandeur: Pink Karina” and below with a headshot of a woman with bold dark eyeliner, and beautiful cat-like eyes, black lingerie emphasizing her bold pink hair.

“giselle says she just moved into town, but she’s the real deal.” minjeong offers with a giddy smile. sliding the flyer into blazer pocket. watching the way you scoff at her, sure the girl was drop dead gorgeous, but aren’t they all supposed to be.

then the announcer comes through, “welcome to the stage, for the very first time, miss pink karina.” and the music fades in. you stare at the stage in expectation, watching the way the lights all shine into one spot, right in between the curtains. and with sultry music playing, you watch her emerge from backstage. her bold pink hair catching your eye, and then seeing the way her eyes are low and a grin that sits across her face.

her figure approaches the stage, and even in the smoke you can see her beautiful silhouette as walks center stage. she’s in a gorgeous black lingerie that fits to her figure like a glove. the flyer does her no justice, and for the second time in the week, your jaw drops at the sight of gorgeous women. her legs are long and strong, her heels accentuating the length. her curvaceous figure leaves much to imagine, her long fingernails look like they could rake down your body and leave trails of marks. she seems to be an immediate favorite, rallying cheers and hoots. each one leaving an even more sour taste on your mouth. like rapid dogs they adore her like she fell from the sky.

you uncross and cross your legs again, watching the way she moves across the stage, not forgetting to give each and every viewer a memory to savor. and she reaches the main stage with the golden pole and her eyes scan the crowd, eventually landing on you and she looks like she opened her mouth, but you couldn’t tell with the way your eyes were locked onto hers. she watches you a bit more before continuing to circle the stage.

“she seems to like you.” minjeong whispers through the music.

“no she doesn’t, if she likes me then she likes everyone.” you scoff at minjeong, waving her off as she continues to watch the pink-haired woman. you return your vision to her as well, taking a small sip of the whiskey in your cup.

you relax your tense shoulders, and watch her figure retreat to the other side of the stage.

karina…

you take another sip of your whiskey, watching her closely.

--

a/n: part 2? stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[eu-nicola]

attraction part 1

summary: after your mother's death you marry Ward Cameron to have economic stability and you meet his son who hangs around you

warnings: for now just age-gap

word counter: 4713

author’s note: english is not my first language, ofc i’m based on one of my favorite novels

The sky was gray, covered with thick clouds that seemed to cry with you. The rain fell softly, soaking the dark grass of the cemetery and mixing with the tears running down your cheeks. You felt empty, torn apart by grief, holding onto the last image of your mother before the coffin was lowered into the ground.  

The priest’s words faded into the dull sound of the rain, into the murmurs of the few people who had come to say their goodbyes. People who claimed to have loved your mother but weren’t there in her final moments. Hypocrites, all of them. Except you.  

You stayed there, even when the others started leaving. Your fingers were freezing, your legs trembling, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to accept that you were truly alone.  

"I’m really sorry for your loss."  

The male voice reached you gently, like he was afraid his presence alone might break you. When you looked up, you saw a middle-aged man in a dark coat. His expression was solemn, and in his light eyes, there was something more than just politeness—there was sadness, maybe even nostalgia.  

"Thanks," you murmured, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand, even though you knew the tears wouldn’t stop anytime soon.  

The man nodded gravely, looking at the grave with the same sadness you did.  

"Who were you?" you asked, your voice broken but firm.  

He took a moment to answer, like he was searching for the right words.  

"A friend from your mother’s teenage years," he finally said. "We met a long time ago. She… was an incredible woman."  

A friend. Why had your mother never mentioned him? Why was he here now, offering condolences, when you’d never seen him before in your life?  

"I guess she was," you replied, not even trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.  

The man didn’t seem offended. Instead, he looked at you with a kind of sympathy that made you uncomfortable.  

"I know this must be really hard for you. Being alone…" He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, I can help you."  

You shook your head immediately.  

"No," you said firmly. "I’m fine."  

It was a lie, of course. You weren’t fine. You never would be. But accepting help meant admitting you had no one else, no options. And if there was one thing your mother had taught you, it was to never rely on anyone.  

Ward Cameron watched you for a moment longer, then nodded in understanding.  

"If you ever change your mind, here’s my card."  

You didn’t want to take it, but you did anyway. You barely glanced at the name printed on it before stuffing it into your coat. You weren’t going to see him again. You wouldn’t need him.  

Or so you thought.  

Time passed, and loneliness became your only company, routine your only salvation. You had learned to survive, to stay standing even when everything around you was falling apart. But every night, when the house was silent and the weight of reality crushed you, you thought about your mother’s words.  

"True love is a luxury few women can afford. The most important thing is security."  

You had seen your mother sacrifice herself, seen how love had betrayed her over and over until she stopped believing in it. Security was the only thing that mattered. And now, you understood that better than ever.  

That’s why, when you saw Ward Cameron again, it wasn’t so surprising that fate kept pushing you in the same direction.  

You ran into him at a charity event you attended out of obligation. You wore an elegant black dress, simple yet sophisticated, and as you made small talk with people you barely knew, you felt his gaze before you even saw him.  

"I’m glad to see you again," he said, with that same calm voice you remembered.  

You didn’t know what to say. You just nodded, letting him lead the conversation, letting him talk with an ease you had long forgotten.  

"How have you been?"  

"Surviving."  

A shadow crossed his face, but he didn’t push. Instead, he changed the subject, talking about trivial things—business, the event itself. But at the end of the night, just as you were about to leave, he asked the question that would change everything.  

"Marry me."  

You froze.  

"What?"  

He wasn’t smiling. He didn’t look like he was joking.  

"I’m offering you security," he said, with a calmness that made your skin prickle. "You have no one else, and I… I can give you stability."  

He didn’t talk about love. He didn’t promise fairytales or happy endings. Just security.  

And for the first time in your life, you actually considered it.  

Your mother had been right.  

"True love is a luxury."  

Ward Cameron was offering you the only thing that really mattered.  

And so, after a long silence, you looked up and made a decision.  

"I accept."  

The sound of your own voice still hung in the air when the reality of what you had done started hitting you.  

"I accept."  

You had said those words without thinking too much, like they didn’t even belong to you, like someone else had spoken them for you. And now, as Ward Cameron looked at you with approval, with a slight, satisfied smile—almost like he knew you would accept—you started to feel it.  

Regret.  

The feeling hit you like a cold wave, leaving a frozen trail in your chest. What the hell had you done? You didn’t even really know this man. Sure, he had been friends with your mother in her youth, but what did that even mean? You didn’t know anything about him. Where he lived, what exactly he did for a living, whether or not he had kids—though, given his age, he probably did.  

"God."  

The thought struck you suddenly, and nausea twisted in your stomach. What if he had kids your age? It was possible. Ward Cameron had to be in his late forties, maybe even fifty. It wouldn’t be crazy if he had a son or daughter around your age.  

And yet, you had done it. You had accepted his proposal without thinking it through enough.  

"You don’t look very sure," Ward commented, watching you closely.  

You quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to keep your expression in check. You couldn’t back out. Not now.  

"No… it’s just that…"  

You trailed off. There was no excuse you could give that wouldn’t make you sound completely unstable. You couldn’t say, "Sorry, I just realized I agreed to marry a man I barely know" or "Maybe this was an impulsive decision because my life has been a mess lately."  

Ward tilted his head slightly, like he could see every single thought written on your face.  

"You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to," he said, but something in his tone told you he didn’t really mean it.  

It wasn’t a warning or a threat, but it also wasn’t a real way out.  

You forced yourself to take a deep breath.  

"I will," you confirmed, even though the weight of your own words felt heavier than anything else.  

Ward seemed pleased with your answer. He took a slow sip of his wine, completely in control, like this arrangement was the most natural thing in the world.  

That night, you barely slept.  

You tossed and turned in bed, feeling the weight of the commitment you had taken on without really analyzing it.  

"What the hell am I doing?"  

Your thoughts spiraled endlessly. You rationalized it in a thousand different ways.  

"It was the best option."  

"It was the only option."  

"Ward Cameron is offering you security, stability."  

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being… trapped.  

Your mother’s voice echoed in your head.  

"Love is a luxury."  

You didn’t have the luxury of waiting for something so unattainable.  

And still… you couldn’t stop thinking about how strange all of this was.

Ward wasn’t a total stranger, but he wasn’t someone close to you either. You had no idea what kind of husband he’d be. You didn’t know if he was a nice guy or if he was hiding a darker side under his perfect posture and measured smile.

You tried to imagine him. Tried to picture yourself married to him, sharing a house, a bed, a life.

The thought made you shiver.

“It’s too late for regrets.”

You repeated it to yourself until exhaustion finally took over, and you sank into an uneasy sleep.

The following days were a fog of uncertainty. Ward didn’t push or demand anything right away, which, in a way, only made everything feel more unreal.

He’d communicate with you casually, sending short messages asking how you were, if you needed anything. Nothing romantic, nothing that hinted at wanting more from you than just your acceptance.

And yet, every time you received a message from him, every time you saw him, you felt that slight tug in your stomach.

Not fear.

But not calm either.

When the time finally came to discuss the terms of the marriage, you realized Ward had everything perfectly planned. As if he had been preparing for this for years.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re losing your independence,” he said, sitting across from you at a fancy restaurant, with a glass of wine between his fingers. “You’ll have your own space, your own money, nothing will change too much… except that we’ll be married.”

You just watched him, looking for any sign of real emotion on his face.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally asked, feeling like this was a question you should have asked a long time ago.

Ward set his glass down on the table and leaned slightly toward you.

“Because I can offer you something no one else can,” he replied simply. “Security.”

There it was again. 

“Security.”

It was a deal, one that would probably benefit you.

So why couldn’t you shake that feeling in your chest?

“Maybe because I still don’t know what price I’m really paying.”

After that, only a few days had passed since you accepted Ward’s proposal, and even though you still woke up each morning with the feeling that you had made an impulsive decision, you didn’t back out.

When Ward told you he wanted to introduce you to his family, you knew it was an inevitable step.

“I want you to meet my kids,” he said one afternoon while driving along the immaculate roads of Outer Banks. “It’s important that we do this before everything becomes official.”

The word “official” made you swallow hard.

“Sure,” your voice responded before your brain could fully process it.

Ward gave you a quick glance, as if measuring your reaction.

“You don’t have to worry,” he added. “I don’t expect them to become your best friends overnight, but I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

His words weren’t comforting, but you weren’t expecting them to be.

The sea breeze caressed your face when you finally got out of the car in front of the imposing Cameron house. It was bigger than you imagined, with a classic design and an almost intimidating perfection.

Ward walked ahead of you with his usual confidence, and you followed with your stomach in knots.

As soon as you entered, the sound of muffled laughter and the TV murmurs reached your ears.

“Wheezie, Sarah, Rafe,” Ward called in his firm, authoritative voice.

The first to appear was a little girl with brown hair and a curious expression.

“Dad?” she asked, stopping in her tracks when she saw you. Her eyes scanned your face with interest, no sign of hostility.

“Wheezie,” Ward said, placing a hand on your back. “This is…”

“Your fiancée?” she interrupted with excitement in her voice.

It took you by surprise. How quickly she accepted the idea, her energy, almost made you smile.

“Yeah,” Ward confirmed calmly.

“Wow!” she exclaimed, walking up to you without hesitation. “You’re super pretty.”

Her sincerity made you let out a small laugh, and for the first time since you arrived, the knot in your stomach loosened a little.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

Wheezie smiled broadly before turning on her heels and shouting toward the living room.

“Sarah, Rafe, come quick!”

Your relief didn’t last long.

Seconds later, two figures emerged from the living room. The first was Sarah, her blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her face full of surprise.

The second was a tall young man, with blue eyes and a tense jaw.

Rafe Cameron.

Sarah looked you up and down, her lips slightly parted, as if unsure what to say.

Rafe, on the other hand, didn’t bother hiding his dislike.

“Who are you?” he sneered with an incredulous smirk.

The tension in the room was instant.

“Rafe,” Ward warned, his voice firm.

“What? We can’t even ask?” his son replied sarcastically.

You took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m your dad’s fiancée,” you said calmly, not lowering your gaze.

Sarah blinked rapidly and let out a small, nervous laugh.

“Wait, wait… what?” 

You could see her brain trying to process it.

Wheezie, excited, decided to chime in.

“Dad’s marrying her. Isn’t it awesome?”

Sarah still seemed confused, but not hostile. However, Rafe kept looking at you with that mix of disdain and silent evaluation that made you uncomfortable.

“And how old are you?” Sarah finally asked, tilting her head.

You knew that question was coming eventually, but still, your heart sped up slightly.

“I’m 19,” you said. “I’m about to turn 20.”

There was a silence.

Sarah opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but it was Rafe who spoke first, letting out a dry laugh.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he scoffed, shaking his head with mocking amusement. “Dad, did you buy yourself a wife who’s younger than us?”

The comment hit hard.

Ward’s jaw tightened immediately.

“Rafe,” his voice was dangerous this time.

“What? I’m just saying the obvious,” he continued, leaning back with his arms crossed. “I mean, we could’ve gone out if things were different.”

You wanted to respond, but the atmosphere was already too tense.

“That’s enough,” Ward cut in sharply.

Rafe rolled his eyes but said nothing more.

Sarah, on the other hand, still looked surprised. She was staring at you with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

“Well… this is… unexpected,” she murmured finally, trying to find the right words.

You tried to smile, though you knew dinner was going to be awkward.

And you weren’t wrong.

The table was perfectly set, the food impeccably prepared, but the tension in the air was undeniable.

Wheezie, oblivious to the conflict, chatted enthusiastically, asking you about your likes, your life before meeting Ward.

Sarah, still surprised, tried to be polite.

But Rafe… Rafe wasn’t making any effort to hide his annoyance.

“So, how did you two meet?” Sarah asked, looking at you with some genuine curiosity.

“My mom and your dad knew each other since they were young,” you explained calmly. “We met at her funeral.”

Sarah blinked a couple of times.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

Rafe scoffed.

“How romantic,” he muttered, taking a sip from his glass.

Ward shot him a deadly look.

“Rafe, if you can’t behave, you can leave.”

For a moment, he seemed tempted to do just that, but instead, he adjusted himself in his chair and smiled with fake politeness.

“No, I’m enjoying dinner.”

The conversation continued with awkward silences between forced phrases.

When the dinner finally ended, you felt like you’d just gone through a trial by fire.

Sarah was still processing it, Wheezie seemed excited to have you in her life, and Rafe… Rafe hated you, though he couldn’t deny that you were attractive.

But none of that mattered.

Everything happened faster than you could absorb.

One minute, you were having dinner with Ward’s family, enduring Sarah’s assessing looks and Rafe’s barely concealed contempt, and the next, you were moving into his house, sharing his space, his life.

There wasn’t a long engagement or endless preparations. Ward was a practical man, used to making decisions and having others follow his pace. So, before you could even stop to think about it too much, there was already a ring on your finger and a wedding date set.

Your wedding.

You didn’t know if you were excited or terrified.

The dress was the first thing.

Ward insisted on you having the best, not skimping on anything, so he took you to one of the most exclusive boutiques on the East Coast. The place was a dream, with glass walls, chandeliers, and a selection of dresses that looked like they came straight out of fairy tales.

“Pick the one you want,” he told you in his calm but firm tone. “I want you to feel beautiful that day.”

You felt almost overwhelmed as the attendants brought option after option, each more elaborate than the last.

In the end, you chose one that took your breath away as soon as you put it on.

It was a white silk dress, fitted at the waist with an elegant corset, and a skirt that fell gracefully, not too voluminous. Delicate lace appliqué extended over the neckline and shoulders, giving it a timeless feel. It wasn’t exaggerated or overdone, but it made you feel powerful. Like you really were Mrs. Cameron.

When you came out of the fitting room, Ward looked at you in silence for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect.”

His words should’ve made your heart race with excitement, but instead, you felt a strange unease in your chest.

The wedding day came before you could mentally prepare.

The ceremony was private, elegant, and perfectly planned. It was held at the Cameron estate, with flawless floral arrangements and an altar decorated with warm lights. Ward wanted discretion, no scandals or unnecessary attention, and you agreed.

The small circle of guests consisted of important businessmen, some of Ward’s partners, and, of course, his family.

As you walked down the aisle, the dress fitting perfectly with each step, you felt all eyes on you.

Sarah, in the front row, wore a neutral expression, still trying to figure you out.

Wheezie smiled with the same childish excitement she had shown from the beginning.

And Rafe…

Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed into a tense line, his dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite decipher.

He didn’t look exactly upset, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you uncomfortable.

Ward took your hand when you reached his side, his fingers enveloping yours firmly.

The ceremony was short, but each word felt heavy.

“In riches and in poverty…”

“In health and in sickness…”

“Until death do us part…”

When Ward slid the ring onto your finger, you knew there was no turning back.

You were now his wife.

Mrs. Cameron.

After the wedding, the honeymoon didn’t happen.

There were no trips to exotic places, no romantic getaways to private islands. No candlelit dinners in Paris or sunsets in Tuscany.

There was only the Cameron house.

There was only the room you now shared with Ward.

That was your honeymoon.

When Ward told you that you couldn’t travel because he had work commitments, you nodded without arguing. You didn’t expect anything different. You weren’t an innocent girl dreaming of fairy tales.

Besides, the sooner you got used to your new life, the better.

The house was big, too big. Sometimes, when Ward wasn’t around, you walked through the halls in silence, feeling like an intruder in a world you didn’t fully understand yet.

Your day-to-day life became filled with a quiet routine. You woke up in the room you now shared with Ward, feeling the coldness of the sheets when he had already gotten up before dawn for his business.

You had breakfast alone in the dining room, flipping through the newspaper even though you didn’t care about what it said.

You crossed paths with the household staff, who treated you with respect, but without the warmth of someone who really knew you.

And, occasionally, you crossed paths with Rafe.

You didn’t speak.

When you passed by him in the halls or in the living room, he barely looked at you. But you could feel his judgment, his silent contempt.

Rafe thought you were an opportunist.

You knew that for him, you were just a young, ambitious woman who had found the perfect way to secure her future. He probably thought you’d manipulated his dad, that you had taken advantage of his generosity and power.

You wondered if he would change his mind

But you didn’t bother to try. 

Sarah, on the other hand, was barely home. 

Since the wedding day, you’d hardly seen her. She spent most of her time with her boyfriend, far away from the Cameron house and all the tension that lingered there. 

You weren’t sure if that was good or bad. 

Part of you thought her distance meant she had no interest in getting to know you. The other part saw it as a quiet truce. 

And then there was Wheezie. 

Your only “friend.”

The youngest Cameron had accepted you without questioning too much. Unlike her siblings, Wheezie didn’t have that deep-rooted cynicism, or the distrust that seemed to come with being Rafe and Sarah. 

She just liked you. 

You’d hang out together in the afternoons, sitting on the porch while she told you stories about her school, her friends, and the little dramas that filled her world. 

"It's weird having someone new in the house," she said one afternoon as you two sipped lemonade in the garden.

"Too weird?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," she answered with a smile. "Just... different. But I like it."

It was one of the few times you felt like you belonged somewhere. 

Over the next few days, your only goal was to avoid crossing paths with Rafe, except at dinner. 

You didn’t want to see him. 

You didn’t want to run into him, or even think about him. 

But somehow, Rafe Cameron always ended up showing up. 

You didn’t know if it was fate, bad luck, or if he did it on purpose. But the truth was, your encounters started happening more often. 

Sometimes it was in the kitchen when you’d come down for coffee and find him leaning on the counter, lazily stirring his cup while giving you that same carefree, indifferent look. 

Other times it was in the living room, when you thought the house was empty, only to turn around and find him there, watching you with those eyes that always seemed to analyze, judge, question. 

Then there were the worst encounters: the ones in the hallway. 

In those, he always had something to say. 

Always. 

“Getting used to the rich life yet?” he threw out one time as you passed by him.

You held his gaze without blinking.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about my life, Rafe.”

He let out a dry laugh, like the idea amused him.

“I don’t. I just find it fascinating how some people can get everything without lifting a finger.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He shrugged, that arrogant air that seemed to be part of his DNA. “Maybe you should explain it to me. What's it like marrying someone you barely know? What's it like selling yourself for security?”

This time, you didn’t hold back.

“And what’s it like being a rich kid with a martyr complex?” you fired back. “Because if it bothers you so much that some people get money without ‘lifting a finger,’ maybe you should start with yourself.”

His eyes darkened for a moment.

For a second, you thought he’d hit back with something worse. That he wouldn’t let you win that small war of words that seemed to have started between you two.

But instead, he just stared at you intensely.

And then, without saying anything else, he walked past you and went on his way. 

You didn’t understand why his silence felt like a victory. 

But that wasn’t the end of it. 

Because Rafe didn’t know when to stop. 

And you weren’t about to give in either. 

Every encounter became a battleground disguised as conversation. Every time he opened his mouth, you were ready to respond. 

“What are you gonna do when you get tired of this?” he asked another day, when you found him on the porch, a beer in hand. “When you get bored pretending this is what you wanted?”

“What are you gonna do when you realize that your opinion doesn’t matter to me?” you shot back, taking a sip of your own drink.

He clicked his tongue and slammed the bottle down on the wooden table a bit harder than necessary.

“You still think this is a game, don’t you?”

“And you still think you know everything about me.”

His gaze swept over your face, like he was looking for a lie.

Like he wanted to see if there was a crack in your confidence, in your stance, in your tone.

But he found nothing. 

And that seemed to piss him off even more.

That same night, as dinner went on as usual, everyone was sitting around the table. 

It was one of those rare nights when Ward was home in time for dinner with you and his kids. Wheezie was chatting animatedly about her day, Sarah barely paying attention while staring at her phone, and Rafe… 

Rafe was staring at you.

Not in the usual way, with disdain or condescension.

No.

This time, his gaze lingered on one specific spot. 

Your cleavage. 

It was subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. But when you lifted your gaze, and his eyes took a second longer than usual to meet yours, you knew. 

It didn’t make you uncomfortable. 

But it did confuse you. 

What was he looking for? 

What was he thinking? 

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. You simply looked back down at your plate, took your wine glass, and kept talking to Ward like nothing had happened. 

“I was thinking about going to New York next month,” your husband said, with his calm and calculated tone. “You should come with me.”

You smiled at him.

“I’d like that.”

He seemed pleased with your answer. His fingers brushed yours on the table, a soft but possessive gesture. 

You didn’t look at Rafe.

But you could feel his gaze still on you. 

Burning.

Analyzing.

Judging.

When dinner was over, Ward came over to you. 

He took your hand gently, but firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“I missed you today,” he murmured, leaning in closer to you.

He kissed your cheek first, then your lips. A quick kiss, but public enough for everyone to see. To make sure there was no doubt about who you were now.

You felt Rafe’s eyes on you two. 

You didn’t dare turn to look at him. 

You didn’t know what expression he had on his face. 

But as Ward guided you out of the dining room and toward the bedroom, you could feel Rafe’s gaze still fixed on you. 

Watching. 

Thinking. 

And that... 

That did make you uncomfortable.

[libraford]

I've been following you for years, and I leave and come back and you're still trucking along. I know for sure I was following when you were still starting at the flower shop, and I think maybe before (Craft Store may have been before or after, time is not my strong suit). And I'm just feeling really emotional about how all that shit happened over years and now really cool things are happening for you, and you're healing -literally physically-, and maybe I can make it through too. Thank you for sharing along the way.

idk I think it's neat and also it's like 1am so maybe I'm being silly about it.

Shhh nooo, I'm constantly looking back at this and being like... 'holy shit I used to be miserable.'

And its like... there are still parts of my life that suck for sure. There's some stuff that's difficult to navigate. I'm still not getting paid near enough, but the work is not killing me and I have time for my weird hobbies and I have time for friends and family.

I understand feeling stuck, though. Truth be told, one of the tipping points in all of this was that several people in my life died around the same time and gave me enough money to quit my job. And along the way I found MORE shit jobs!

And I thought that parks and rec was going to be a shit job. And it is! But they pay alright and it turns out that picking up trash around the city isn't all that bad. And they make you take your full lunch and they don't want you pushing yourself so hard that you throw out your back. And they let you take a break and there's no customers to yell at you. And sometimes the people on the trails thank you for picking up trash.

And people don't try to steal your flowers and people don't call you a 'flunkie' and people don't try to scam you with fake dollars, and people don't say you could be replaced with a self-scanner and people don't reward you with a scratch-off ticket and people don't blame you for high insurance premiums and people don't make orders you can't fulfill in the time frame they want it and they don't argue colors with you and they don't say that you're being disrespectful and they don't say that your photo make their son look gay and they don't look at your work over your shoulder and they don't say you're difficult to work with and they don't say that they can't allow simple self-started accomodations for your disability and they don't say that you're working too fast and you make the other photographers look bad and they don't yell at you about your body language or put you in a hot gym for 8 hours and then complain that you smell bad and they don't tell you that you're being insubordinate when you ask why you can't work at your own pace and they don't make you teach classes and they don't stalk you on the internet and they don't blame you for their marriage failing and your van doesn't catch fire and maybe you do find someone sleeping in the bushes but its not your coworker this time its just a guy who needs shelter and so you tell him about the shelter down the road and he says thank you and maybe your coworkers say some weird racist shit sometimes but you can just tell them to shut the hell up and sometimes you get to see a creature...

Anyways.

I hope that some good, even if bittersweet, stuff happens to you soon and you have opportunities to change things around, even a little bit.

Life can be good-ish.