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sisterspooky1013 · 1 year ago

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Gaslight, Chapter 9/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

“Ruth told me you requested an emergency appointment. Did something happen?”

Dana wrings her hands in her lap, blinking rapidly against her dry, weary eyes. As per usual, Michelle waits until she is ready to speak.

“Yes. I mean…not really. I don’t know,” she says haltingly, then runs her hands over her unmade face.

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat and deciding where to begin.

“My daughter said something to me that—it’s hard to explain, but it threw me off. And then I heard this song—I think it’s the song from my dream, the one about the man. I think it’s the song that was playing when I was with him. And I just feel so…I feel so lost.”

Her throat tightens and she drops her head, breathing deeply to stave off tears.

“What was it that your daughter said?” Michelle asks, flipping through her notes. “Abigail, right?”

“Yes, Abby,” Dana confirms. “She said something about her other mother. Her mother from before. She asked me if her other mother was going to come back.”

Michelle’s eyebrows lift, and her mouth falls open slightly.

“And how do you interpret that?” she asks after a beat.

“I don’t know,” Dana says, exasperated. “Maybe she means me, before my accident. Or maybe there was another woman in her life I don’t know about or don’t remember. Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know, but it’s just one more missing piece.”

Michelle nods, considering her.

“Have you started your new prescription, Dana?” she asks.

“Yes,” Dana answers with a sigh. “I started it the evening after our last appointment.”

“And have you been dreaming?”

“No, actually. Not the last couple nights. Not even after I heard the song.”

“I think we should adjust your medication again. I’m going to send over a prescription right now. Can you pick it up on your way out?”

Dana narrows her eyes, confused.

“I’ve only been taking the new dose for two days. That seems a bit soon to change it again,” she observes, and Michelle crosses her hands neatly in her lap.

“I understand that you’re a doctor, Dana, but memory care isn’t your specialty. These drugs are fast-acting, and based on your clear distress, I think an adjustment is necessary,” she says sternly.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to overstep,” Dana replies.

“Let’s set up another appointment in a few days, okay? This kind of setback isn’t atypical, and I don’t want you to worry. Let’s just keep a close eye on it so we can get you back to normal soon, all right?”

“Okay,” Dana agrees as she stands, though the idea of normal feels so foreign that it’s hard to imagine. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” Michelle says as she walks her to the door.

Dana is passing through the waiting area when Michelle stops her.

“Oh, Dana,” she calls out. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the pharmacy here carries all kinds of basic necessities. Tylenol, Midol, Loratadine. They even have children’s vitamins, if you need anything like that at home.”

A little chill tickles Dana’s spine and she shivers involuntarily.

“Thanks,” she says, then heads to the pharmacy.

That night, she barely sleeps. She does not dream.

She watches two blue jays swooping through the yard. They take from the feeder, then dive down to the ground, swapping places over and over like a choreographed dance. They seem to be working as a team, yet also completely independently of one another. Eat and swoop. Eat and swoop.

“Dana?”

“Hm?” she looks over to see Cal watching her with a perplexed expression.

“I said thanks for picking up vitamins for the kids,” he repeats, and she nods with a thin smile. “You okay, mija?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admits, tightening her grip on her coffee mug.

Cal crosses the kitchen with a little smirk, standing right beside her as he fills his mug.

“I can probably help you out with that,” he whispers, quiet enough so the kids won’t hear him, then bumps her hip with his own.

She forces a smile, and when Cal holds out his open palm to dispense her Numerol, she takes it from him, as well as three quick kisses.

“Today will be a better day, okay?” he says hopefully, and she nods once.

She bids farewell to Cal and Peter, then walks Abby to the bus. Abby prattles on about sea urchins and The Little Mermaid, and it’s only when they are at the stop and she can hear the rumble and screech of the bus approaching from down the block that she has a chance to ask.

“Hey, Sweetpea, do you remember when you talked about your other mommy? From before?” she says casually.

“Ummmmm, maybe,” Abby says, walking circles around the stop sign post.

“What do you remember about her?” Dana asks.

“She was big!” Abby says emphatically. “And she had a black dress and her face was purple.”

“Purple?” Dana repeats.

“Yep, purple skin and white hair, and she hated King Triton and Ariel,” the child says animatedly.

Dana heaves a sigh that is part relief, part irritation.The bus stops in front of them and the door swings open.

“Have a good day, Sweetpea. Watch out for any nefarious eels,” she says to the child, kissing her cheek before she steers her toward the bus.

“What’s a neffyrus?!” Abby says dubiously, then boards the bus and waves from behind the window.

Dana watches it pull away, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. When it’s rounded the corner out of sight, she takes out the little white pill Cal had given her and studies it.

She remembers something her father told her once, when she was struggling to reconcile what she knew and what she felt.

“Don’t discount your gut, Starbuck. Sometimes it’s the most well-calibrated tool in the toolbox.”

She returns the pill to her pocket and heads to work.

“You should have seen the look on his face, Dana,” Tiffany says, smiling devilishly. “I could hear him from outside the room being an absolute dick to Destiny, demanding to see the doctor. Imagine his surprise when my black ass walks in. Saving lives is great, but I think that may have been even better, honestly.”

“I can only imagine,” Dana replies. “I had a patient once in med school who refused to be seen by me. He kept saying he wanted to see ‘a real doctor,’ but he was more than happy to be treated by one of my male classmates. Some of them would truly rather die, I suppose.”

“And good riddance to ‘em,” Tiffany adds.

They return to their work, logging patient notes between bites of mushy pasta salad from the cafeteria. Dana reaches into her pocket for a pen and feels the compact edges of the pill brush against her fingertips. She’s been carrying it around all day, examining it as though she’ll suddenly notice something out of place or find the answer to a question she hasn’t figured out how to ask. She rolls it between her thumb and forefinger, pondering.

“What is with this tox screen?” Tiffany grumbles, flipping through pages with frustration. “No wonder they take so long to turn anything around down there, running all this shit I didn’t ask for.”

A thought begins to take shape, gathering volume like a snowball tumbling downhill. It would be a misuse of resources, something worthy of discipline were she to be found out. And yet, she finds herself writing the script in her head, forming responses and rebuttals.

“Have you ever sent something through the lab off the books?” she asks offhandedly, her eyes on her computer screen.

There’s a long pause, and she can feel Tiffany looking at her.

“Not personally, no, though I can’t imagine it would be difficult to do. Why do you ask?”

Dana flashes her eyes up to her coworker. She wants to trust her, feels like she has no choice but I’m to, and at the same time she isn’t entirely sure that she can rely on her own instincts right now.

“I think the pharmacy made a mistake with my medication,” Dana says, fabricating the lie as it leaves her lips. “They won’t admit to it, so the only way to know for sure is to have it analyzed.”

“You should be able to just run that through,” Tiffany says nonchalantly. “I don’t think you need to be all covert about it, double-oh-seven.”

Dana laughs along, but her belly twists.

“I use the in-house pharmacy,” she explains. “I just—I don’t want to piss them off. It’s so convenient to be able to pick things up at work.”

“Dr. Robbie is kind of a prick,” Tiffany agrees. “I could see him holding a grudge.”

Dana breathes a little sigh of relief.

“How would I go about that, then? Running it through the lab off the books?”

“Well, you could put it in with another sample, but that runs the risk that the result will be tied to your patient and get them into a whole big mess, depending on what it is. I do know a tech down there that seems to be sweet on me. Maybe I could ask him for a favor,” Tiffany suggests.

“That would be great, if it’s not too much trouble. Is there something I can do in return, pick up a shift or take a difficult patient?” Dana asks, trying not to sound too eager about the whole thing.

“Nah, it’s no big deal. It might be kinda fun to see if I still got it,” Tiffany replies as she stands from her desk and pops her hip out dramatically.

Dana smiles, dropping the pill into a plastic baggie and handing it over.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” she says sincerely, meeting Tiffany’s eye.

Alone in the office, she feels a pit form in her stomach, accompanied by a sense of dread. She finds herself praying that the results come back and indicate that the pill is exactly what it’s supposed to be: fifteen milligrams of Numerol. But she’s been praying since the day she woke up in the hospital that things would get better, that her life would start making sense. And if the past predicts the future, this too is a prayer that will go unanswered.

“Dr. Rose, I have a patient for you in bed three.”

Dana checks her watch, calculating how much time she has before she’ll be home too late to get Abby off the bus.

“Do you have the chart?” she asks the nurse, then flips through the details quickly as she makes her way down the hall. 67 year old male, presenting with arrhythmia and shortness of breath.

When she pulls the curtain back, she is hit with the funk of stale cigarettes. An elderly man is sitting up in the bed, blankets draped across his lap and a blue hospital gown covering his chest and shoulders. He smiles at her, and the familiarity in it makes her immediately uncomfortable for reasons she can’t articulate.

“Mr. Kennedy,” she says, reading off his chart. “My name is Dr. Rose. I understand that your heartbeat is irregular and you’re having a hard time breathing.”

“Yes,” he says eagerly, touching his chest. “Just the years catching up to me, I suppose.”

He has hooded, watery blue eyes and deep-set wrinkles framing his mouth. The kinds of wrinkles you earn by puckering your lips around the filter of a cigarette hundreds or thousands of times.

“Let’s have a listen,” Dana says, keeping her tone as business-like as possible to discourage him from being overly friendly with her.

She presses the stethoscope to his chest and looks at her watch as she measures his heart rate, then motions for him to lean forward and holds the stethoscope against his back as she listens to his lungs. His heart rate is normal and healthy for a man of his age, but his lungs sound rhonchi and wheezy. Nicotine comes off him in waves, stinging her eyes, and she moves away to sanitize her hands and her stethoscope to remove the smell.

“Do you smoke, Mr. Kennedy?” she asks flatly, and he chuffs a little laugh that devolves into a coughing fit.

“A bit, yes,” he finally rasps out.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but I recommend quitting,” she says, leaning against the counter furthest from his bed. “If you’re not able to quit, you should at least consider cutting back. You’re taking years off your life each time you open a new pack.”

“Ah,” the old man says with a contrite bob of his head. “You sound like my son. He’s always telling me to quit. It’s hard when you’re an old man. I don’t have many pleasures left in life.”

“You should listen to him,” Dana says as she makes notes in his chart. “I’m going to order albuterol to help alleviate the inflammation in your airways. It’s a breathing treatment we can administer here at the hospital, but we’ll also send you home with enough for the next week. I’m also going to refer you to cardiology. Your heart sounds fine right now, but they may want to set you up with a monitor so they can track changes over time. Do you have any questions?”

“Sure, do you know any single women who might be interested in a gentleman of my regard?” he says cheekily, and she intentionally does not reward him with eye contact.

“I think you should focus on your health, Mr. Kennedy,” she says blandly.

“I’m a lonely man, Dana.”

Her hearing cuts out for just a split second, a brief ring slowly replaced by the hustle and bustle and mechanical beeps of the hospital floor. She slowly lifts her head and finds him watching her curiously.

“Excuse me?” she says, feeling disoriented.

“Dana, right? It says so right there on your badge,” he points out, and she touches her hospital ID reflexively.

“Dr. Rose, please,” she corrects him, and he holds up his hands in deference.

“My apologies, Dr. Rose. Thank you for your time,” the man says, and she escapes from his cigarette soaked room with an unnecessary level of urgency.

Get Abby from the bus. Pick up Peter from daycare. Snacks. Playtime. Start dinner. Welcome Cal home from work. Bathtime. Bedtime. Pretend to read a book while her mind races in a hundred different directions. Tell Cal she has a headache, maybe tomorrow. Lie awake and think. Think. THINK.

The song. The man. The green countertops. The old smoker. “I’m a lonely man, Dana.” The pills. The pills. THE PILLS. Try to sleep. Fail. No dreams, no nothing. It’s like a black hole swallowed her mind, her memories. Her life.

Wake up. Wake Peter. Shower, get ready for work. Make the children breakfast. Drink coffee. Take Numerol from Cal. Wash it down the sink. Goodbye Cal, goodbye Peter. Walk Abby to the bus. Pretend to be mermaids. Feel like dying.

Drive to work. Play the song over and over and over. Now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home. Take the east entrance, just to see. Nearly have a panic attack. Keep smelling the smoker around every corner. Keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Keep hoping it’s not as bad as it seems.

Tiffany rushes into the office, closing the door behind her and marching straight to Dana’s desk, where she drops a small stack of papers on the desktop with an irate expression.

“You wanna tell me what the fuck this is about?” Tiffany asks angrily, one hand on her hip.

Sleep deprived and on edge, Dana blinks at her stupidly and then begins to try and decipher the papers on her desk. Lab results. Inconclusive. Unknown substance.

“Is this about my medication?” she asks, flipping through the pages.

“You sure that was your medication you gave me, Dana?” Tiffany questions doubtfully. “Cause that pill sure as shit did not come from the St. Agnes pharmacy.”

“I don’t understand,” Dana says, shaking her head. “What was it?”

Tiffany considers her, and her expression falls a bit.

“You really don’t know?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m sorry if I’ve dragged you into something strange, Tiffany. But no, I really don’t know what it is, or where it came from. That’s what I was hoping to find out.”

Tiffany rolls the chair over from her desk and sits close beside Dana. She leafs through the pages, pointing at key fields as she speaks in a low tone.

“The first test he ran was totally inconclusive. It doesn’t match any medication we have in the system, even nationally. Now this man must really think he was gonna get somewhere with this lab result because he called in his buddy who does some back alley, unofficial freaky shit. And that friend got a hit on some secret government database for this chemical composition.”

“What is it?” Dana asks, her heart racing. She’s been putting this in her body every day for months.

“Something called—” Tiffany flips two pages and points to a summary. “Galophazine. It’s not FDA approved, that’s for damn sure.”

“What does it treat? What are the effects?”

“That wasn’t very clear,” Tiffany says, sitting back. “The friend could only deduce, based on the places it was referenced, that it has something to do with memory recall.”

Dana feels a flood of relief, and presses her hand to her chest to feel her own pounding heart begin to normalize.

“That’s good. That’s what it was prescribed for, to enhance memory recall. What I don’t understand is why my doctor would lie about the name of the medication.”

“I thought you said it was a pharmacy error,” Tiffany says, but then moves past it before Dana has a chance to respond. “But I don’t think this is meant to enhance memory recall. Whatever the friend saw, he came to the conclusion that this drug, Galophazine, is used to suppress long term memory recall. They were testing it out on war vets and people with childhood trauma.”

The earth beneath her feet is suddenly less stable, the air in her lungs thin. She feels lightheaded. She feels sick. If she was lost before, she’s now untethered. Detached. There is no home base to return to. Adrift. Adrift. Adrift.

“Dana?” Tiffany asks, and Dana realizes that Tiffany is touching her, shaking her arm gently. “Are you okay?”

“I—I think—”

She swallows against a bone dry throat, scans the room with untrusting eyes, considers the woman next to her. A stranger, perhaps. She has no way of knowing for sure.

“I don’t know.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic

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theretirementstory · 3 months ago

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01/09/2024. Greetings on this first Sunday in September, where the weather in Bar-sur-Aube is 22c (and sunny) we are due 32c so I will need to hide in the shade.

This photo was taken on September 1st 2018, that was when the town used to have the Foire aux Bulles on the first weekend of the month, which for some reason was given a new name “Bulles et Gastronomie Foire”and moved to a new slot, the last weekend of the month.

Let’s get my health news out of the way first! My platelets have not fallen to 10 or below for a number of weeks and so the doctors in Paris agreed that we should try for just one transfusion per week 😳. The injection to boost my white blood cells is to be stopped as it looks as if my body is working better there. I still have to have the injection for red blood cells but haven’t had a haemoglobin transfusion for almost two weeks 😁 and of course I am still having platelet injections and transfusions. My blood pressure tablets have been stopped completely in the hope that blood pressure will return to normal levels after being really low. All in all a “good news” week. Keep your 🤞for me.

I had to eke out the shopping as Monique wanted to do some, I asked Anie to get fresh fruit and my neighbour to go for my prescription. On Friday (after my trip to Paris) my neighbour drove me to two supermarkets, where I hurried round picking up items for “my family’s” arrival. We are all so excited to be seeing one another soon.

It has been another busy week (well aren’t they all?) I messaged the gardener, who came out and cut the grass on Tuesday, then he messaged to say he would cut the hedges on Friday, so now my garden looks pretty good. I contacted the plumber who also called in on Tuesday and repaired the waste “thing” in the upstairs washbasin. I finally plucked up courage to contact the man to clean the outside walls of the house, they are streaked with red which appears to come from the roof tiles. He came out and looked at them, gave me a price which we agreed and then we agreed a start date. The only person, both Monique and I, have been unable to contact is the roofer. He seems to have gone to ground! She said I will have to try and find another man to do the work but to be honest those men are as rare as hens teeth! Oh well, it’s just one job left to do I suppose.

It was pay day for my cleaner and as usual, I hadn’t done something correctly! I finally printed off the paper she needed, at 5am on Friday (before my trip to Paris), left it where I had said I would leave it and she hasn’t been for it yet. Oh well I have done my bit, without my car I cannot go and deliver it to her. If Anie comes down I will get her to take it but other than that, I don’t know.

Pauline came to see me on Tuesday and we spent a lovely couple of hours together. She was quite taken by the gardener and kept “watching him work”.

I had a surprise yesterday, my friend, from the next village, sent a message to say she had left something outside my front door. Sure enough, a bunch of flowers were resting on the door handle and there was a large bag of tomatoes and courgettes. As it was so hot, I really couldn’t face cooking anything but I checked out some recipes and think I will be making tomato and courgette soup plus courgettes, tomato and garlic. Well I can but try!

We have had some really lovely days and I am hoping for more of these for next week. This week it has meant that washing could be hung out and dried which is a big boost enabling me to prepare for the autumn and winter.

If it’s good weather next week my visitors will be in the garden taking the sun and reading books. The perfect way to de-stress.

So “Mr Solicitor” and “The Recovery Coordinator” have been busy packing their bags and will spend today relaxing 🤞before an early start in the morning. Oh wow, don’t think about it or I will get 🤪.

“The Photographer” has been out and about in York taking photos. He is trying lots of different things and ways to photograph scenes, people etc. He made a flying visit home yesterday and will be heading back to York this evening.

On Friday morning the alarm woke me at 4:30a.m. it was dark and I felt as if it was still nighttime! I love the summer for the bright early mornings but know that those days will soon give way to darker mornings. It’s sad in a way but at least I have my trusty sunrise alarm clock to help me wake up to some light. When I was younger I wished I could hibernate until the days grew longer, now as I approach another birthday I want to make the most of the hours available to me, be they light or dark. Yes it’s the month of the autumnal equinox too!

So finally, I have reached the music slot, I don’t know why I haven’t had this song in before now! The song is “Play That Funky Music” by Wild Cherry which was released in 1976.

This is another 1970’s song, it’s “Black Betty” by Ram Jam which was released in 1977. When I hear either of these songs I am transported poolside at the Hotel Tour Khalef in Sousse Tunisia. I was young and free as a bird unlike now where I am old but still free as a bird 😂.

Have a good week until next week, I hope to.

Final photo, the garden, ready for the visitors.

#barsuraube #troyes #Paris #photography #70’s music #family #friends #baking #cooking #lovinglife #tunisia #holidays #autumnal equinox

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fromkenari · 1 year ago

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Behind the Read More are all the times Liam is mentioned in the book Red, White, and Royal Blue. It's sad and concerning for the majority of it. It includes negative coping mechanisms like alcohol, prescription drugs, and self harm and Alex and Liam being toxic to each other, even if it weirdly (inexplicably?) irons out in the end. Also, massive biphobia from Alex and Liam making it worse by lying to him.

“Look, you should have invited him yourself!” June says, by way of admission. “It’s really nice you’re making friends who aren’t us. Sometimes when you get too isolated, you start to go a little crazy. Remember last year when Nora and I were both out of the country for a week, and you almost got a tattoo?”

“I still think we should have let him get a tramp stamp.”

“It wasn’t going to be a tramp stamp,” Alex says hotly. “You were in on this, weren’t you?”

“You know I love chaos,” Nora tells him serenely.

“I have friends who aren’t y’all,” Alex says.

“Who, Alex?” June says. “Literally who?”

“People!” he says defensively. “People from class! Liam!”

“Please. We all know you haven’t talked to Liam in a year,” June says.

“You need friends. And I know you like Henry.”

“Shut up,” Alex says. He brushes a finger under his collar and finds his skin damp. Do they always have to crank the heat up this high when it’s snowing outside?

“This is interesting,” Nora observes.

“No, it’s not,” Alex snaps. “Fine, he can come. But if he doesn’t know anybody else, I’m not babysitting him all night.”

---

He thinks, as he runs and runs and runs, the stupidest thing of all is that he’s straight.

Like, he’s pretty sure he’s straight.

He can pinpoint moments throughout his life when he thought to himself, See, this means I can’t possibly be into guys. Like when he was in middle school and he kissed a girl for the first time, and he didn’t think about a guy when it was happening, just that her hair was soft and it felt nice. Or when he was a sophomore in high school and one of his friends came out as gay, and he couldn’t imagine ever doing anything like that.

Or his senior year, when he got drunk and made out with Liam in his twin bed for an hour, and he didn’t have a sexual crisis about it—that had to mean he was straight, right? Because if he were into guys, it would have felt scary to be with one, but it wasn’t. That was just how horny teenage best friends were sometimes, like when they would get off at the same time watching porn in Liam’s bedroom … or that one time Liam reached over, and Alex didn’t stop him.

---

He needs a list. So: Things he knows right now.

One. He’s attracted to Henry.

Two. He wants to kiss Henry again.

Three. He has maybe wanted to kiss Henry for a while. As in, probably this whole time.

He ticks off another list in his head. Henry. Shaan. Liam. Han Solo. Rafael Luna and his loose collars.

Sidling up to his desk, he pulls out the binder his mother gave him: DEMOGRAPHIC ENGAGEMENT: WHO THEY ARE AND HOW TO REACH THEM. He drags his finger down to the LGBTQ+ tab and turns to the page he’s looking for, titled with mother’s typical flair: THE B ISN’T SILENT: A CRASH COURSE ON BISEXUAL AMERICANS.

---

Faintly, under it all, it occurs to him: This is all a very not-straight way to react to seeing your male frenemy kissing someone else in a magazine.

A little laugh startles out of him, and he walks over to his bed and sits on the edge of it, considering. He considers texting Nora, asking her if he can come over to finally have some big epiphany. He considers calling Rafael Luna and meeting him for beers and asking to hear all about his first gay sexual exploits as an REI-wearing teenage antifascist. And he considers going downstairs and asking Amy about her transition and her wife and how she knew she was different.

But in the moment, it feels right to go back to the source, to ask someone who’s seen whatever is in his eyes when a boy touches him.

Henry’s out of the question. Which leaves one person.

“Hello?” says the voice over the phone. It’s been at least a year since they last talked, but Liam’s Texas drawl is unmistakable and warm in Alex’s eardrum.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hey, Liam. It’s Alex.”

“I know,” Liam says, desert-dry.

“How, um, how have you been?”

A pause. The sound of quiet talking in the background, dishes. “You wanna tell me why you’re really calling, Alex?”

“Oh,” he starts and stops, tries again. “This might sound weird. But, um. Back in high school, did we have, like, a thing? Did I miss that?”

There’s a clattering sound on the other side of the phone, like a fork being dropped on a plate. “Are you seriously calling me right now to talk about this? I’m at lunch with my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know Liam had a boyfriend. “Sorry.”

The sound goes muffled, and when Liam speaks again, it’s to someone else. “It’s Alex. Yeah, him. I don’t know, babe.” His voice comes back clear again. “What exactly are you asking me?”

“I mean, like, we messed around, but did it, like, mean something?”

“I don’t think I can answer that question for you,” Liam tells him. If he’s still anything like Alex remembers, he’s rubbing one hand on the underside of his jaw, raking through the stubble. He wonders faintly if, perhaps, his clear-as-day memory of Liam’s stubble has just answered his own question for him.

“Right,” he says. “You’re right.”

“Look, man,” Liam says. “I don’t know what kind of sexual crisis you’re having right now, like, four years after it would have been useful, but, well. I’m not saying what we did in high school makes you gay or bi or whatever, but I can tell you I’m gay, and that even though I acted like what we were doing wasn’t gay back then, it super was.” He sighs. “Does that help, Alex? My Bloody Mary is here and I need to talk to it about this phone call.”

“Um, yeah,” Alex says. “I think so. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Liam sounds so long-suffering and tired that Alex thinks about all those times back in high school, the way Liam used to look at him, the silence between them since, and feels obligated to add, “And, um. I’m sorry?”

“Jesus Christ,” Liam groans, and hangs up.

---

It starts to grow dark outside, a dull and soggy evening around the Residence, and Alex makes his way down to his room and his bed. He hears about the assortment of guys from Henry’s university days, all of them enamored with the idea of sleeping with a prince, almost all of them immediately alienated by the paperwork and secrecy and, occasionally, Henry’s dark moods about the paperwork and secrecy.

“But of course, er,” Henry says, “nobody since … well, since you and I—”

“No,” Alex says, faster than he expects, “me neither. Nobody else.”

He hears words coming out of his mouth, ones he can’t believe he’s saying out loud. About Liam, about those nights, but also how he’d sneak pills out of Liam’s Adderall bottle when his grades were slipping and stay awake for two, three days at a time. About June, the unspoken knowledge that she only lives here to watch out for him, the quiet sense of guilt he carries when he can’t tear himself away. About how much some of the lies people tell about his mother hurt, the fear she’ll lose.

---

He keeps waking up in DC, and Henry keeps waking up in London, and the whole world keeps waking up to talk about the two of them in love with other people. Pictures of Nora’s hand in his. Speculation about whether June will get an official announcement of royal courtship. And the two of them, Henry and Alex, like the world’s worst illustration of the Symposium: split down the middle and sent bleeding into separate lives.

Even that thought depresses him because Henry’s the only reason he’s become a person who cites Plato. Henry and his classics. Henry in his palace, in love, in misery, not talking much anymore.

Even with both of them trying as hard as they are, it’s impossible to feel like it’s not pulling them apart. The whole charade takes and takes from them, takes days that were sacred—the night in LA, the weekend at the lake, the missed chance in Rio—and records over the tape with something more palatable. The narrative: two fresh-faced young men who love two beautiful young women and definitely not ever each other.

He doesn’t want Henry to know. Henry has a hard enough time as it is, looked at sideways by his whole family, Philip who knows and has not been kind. He tries to sound calm and whole over the phone when they talk, but he doesn’t think it’s convincing.

When he was younger and the anxiety got this bad, when the stakes in his life were much, much lower, this would be the point of self-destruction. If he were in California, he’d sneak the jeep out and drive way too fast down the 101, doors off, blasting N.W.A., inches from being painted on the pavement. In Texas, he’d steal a bottle of Maker’s from the liquor cabinet and get wasted with half the lacrosse team and maybe, afterward, climb through Liam’s window and hope to forget by morning.

The first debate is in a matter of weeks. He doesn’t even have work to keep him busy, so he stews and stresses and goes for long, punishing runs until he has the satisfaction of blisters. He wants to set himself on fire, but he can’t afford for anyone to see him burn.

---

Alex is so busy watching them, his two favorite people, he doesn’t notice another person in his path until he collides with them headfirst, spilling their drink and almost sending them both stumbling into the massive victory cake on the buffet table.

“Jesus, sorry,” he says, immediately reaching for a pile of napkins.

“If you knock over another expensive cake,” says an extremely familiar whiskey-warm drawl, “I’m pretty sure your mom is gonna disinherit you.”

He turns to see Liam, almost the same as he remembers—tall, broad shouldered, sweet-faced, scruffy. He’s so mad he has such a specific type of dude and never even noticed it for so long.

“Oh my God, you came!”

“Of course I did,” Liam says, grinning. Beside him, there’s a cute guy grinning too. “I mean, it kind of seemed like the Secret Service were gonna come requisition me from my apartment if I didn’t come.”

Alex laughs. “Look, the presidency hasn’t changed me that much. I’m still as aggressive a party instigator as I ever was.”

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t, man.”

They both grin, and God, on tonight of all nights it’s good to see him, good to clear the air, good to stand next to someone outside of family who knew him before all this.

A week after he got outed, Liam texted him: 1. I wish we hadn’t been such dumb assholes back then so we both could have helped each other out with stuff. 2. Jsyk, a reporter from some right-wing website called me yesterday to ask me about my history with you. I told him to go fuck himself, but I thought you’d want to know.

So yeah, of course he got a personal invitation.

“Listen, I,” Alex starts, “I wanted to thank you—”

“Do not,” Liam interrupts him. ��Seriously. Okay? We’re cool. We’ll always be cool.” He makes a dismissive gesture with one hand and nudges the cute, dark-eyed guy at his side. “Anyway, this is Spencer, my boyfriend.”

“Alex,” Alex introduces himself. Spencer’s handshake is strong, all farmboy. “Good to meet you, man.”

“It’s an honor,” Spencer says earnestly. “My mom canvassed for your mom when she ran for Congress back in the day, so like, we go way back. She’s the first president I ever voted for.”

“Okay, Spence, be cool,” Liam says, putting an arm around Spencer’s shoulders. A beam of pride cuts through Alex; if Spencer’s parents were Claremont volunteers, they’re definitely more open-minded than he remembers Liam’s being. “This guy shit his pants on the bus on the way back from the aquarium in fourth grade, so like, he’s not that big of a deal.”

“For the last time, you douchebag,” Alex huffs, “that was Adam Villanueva, not me!”

,“Yeah, I know what I saw,” Liam says.

Alex is just opening his mouth to argue when someone shouts his name—a photo op or interview or something for BuzzFeed. “Shit. I gotta go, but Liam, we have, like, a shitload to catch up on. Can we hang this weekend? Let’s hang this weekend. I’m in town all weekend. Let’s hang this weekend.”

He’s already walking away backward, and Liam is rolling his eyes in an annoyed but fond way, not in a this-is-why-I-stopped-talking-to-you way, so he keeps going. The interview is quick, cut off mid-sentence: Anderson Cooper’s face looms on the screen overhead like a disgustingly handsome Hunger Games cannon, announcing they’re ready to call Florida.

---

The nets are cut loose from the ceiling, and down come the balloons, and Alex staggers into a press of bodies and his father’s chest, a delirious hug, into June, who is a crying disaster, and Leo, who is somehow crying more. Nora is sandwiched between both beaming, proud parents, screaming at the top of her lungs, and Luna is throwing Claremont campaign pamphlets in the air like a mafioso with hundred dollar bills. He sees Cash, severely testing the weight limits of the venue’s chairs by dancing on one, and Amy, waving around her phone so her wife can see it all over FaceTime, and Zahra and Shaan, aggressively making out against a giant stack of CLAREMONT/HOLLERAN 2020 yard signs. WASPy Hunter hoisting another staffer up on his shoulders, Liam and Spencer raising their beers in a toast, a hundred campaign staffers and volunteers crying and shouting in disbelief and joy. They did it. They did it. The Lometa Longshot and a long-awaited blue Texas.

---

The second round of confetti is still falling when Alex grabs Henry by he hand and says, “Follow me.”

Everyone’s too busy celebrating or doing interviews to see them slip out he back door. He trades Liam and Spencer the promise of a six-pack for heir bikes, and Henry doesn’t ask questions, just kicks the stand out and disappears into the night behind him.

#alex claremont diaz #liam rwrb #toxic relationship #prescription drugs #self harm #alcohol #biphobia #homophobia #red white and royal blue #casey mcquiston #out of credits

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buckyownsmylife · 2 years ago

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if I had a choice - Jake Gyllenhaal smut

The one where you avoid Jake because you think you might be pregnant.

Warnings: smut, cheating on a third partner, false cuckolding, breeding kink, daddy kink

A/N: this is part of my do it universe, and although it can be read by itself, I highly recommend you go read the other stories first.

Jake’s P.O.V.

I stared at my screen for another five minutes, waiting for her to pick up the phone or for a text to pop up. Something. Anything to let me know she was okay by herself, now that Tom had left to film a new movie.

Anything to let me know she was still thinking about me.

But when my call went to voicemail for the sixth time that day, I knew I had enough. Grabbing my keys, I set out to Tom’s house, determined to find out why she’d been avoiding me for the better part of the week, now.

“Coming.” I heard her voice from the inside, and of course, she didn’t check before she opened the door, because who could get through the gated community without being on the guest list? No one. She knew she was safe and she took advantage of it, the fact that she was wearing nothing but Tom’s shirt as she revealed herself to me left that perfectly clear.

That was, of course, until her eyes met mine and she realized who was coming to see her. That’s when she realized she was no longer safe.

“Jake.” For the first time since our little arrangement started, my name fell out of her lips without an ounce of excitement or desire. I was surprised by how much it hurt me. “Uh… What… What are you doing here?”

I’d never once had to explain myself when I searched for her company. Tom had left her by herself countless times before and every time she opened the door to find me here, all she did was let me in, into their home and into her body.

What the fuck was going on?

“Why are you avoiding me?” It came out of my mouth before I could stop it or rephrase it into something less aggressive and weak. “You haven’t answered my calls or texts. You can barely look me in the eye. Did I do something wrong?”

When she averted her gaze, turning her head to the side, I knew I was getting close to the truth, and it scared me. My heartbeat racing, I took a step towards her, forcing her to allow me in, because I wouldn’t be able to deal with her rejection.

“Talk to me,” I begged. “Tell me what I did wrong. Let me make it right. Please.” I had never behaved this way before, in any of the actual relationships I’d been in. Then again… I’d never even felt this way before.

This wasn’t part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to fall for her, but I didn’t want to lose this.

I didn’t want to lose her.

Everything felt better when I was with her. I felt better when I was with her. I didn’t want to remember how lonely I was before we met, and so I knew I needed her to tell me what made her cut me out, so I could fix it, somehow.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” She shook her head emphatically, eyes avoiding mine as she bit down on her bottom lip. I remained silent, hoping this first offer of information was only the beginning, and after a little while, my patience was rewarded.

“Remember last time?” She didn’t need to add anything else to the question - I knew what she was referring to and I also knew that I would never forget it. How I’d fucked her in the middle of a public event - one her boyfriend’s parents had attended, no less.

Just thinking about it had my cock twitching inside my jeans, despite how nervous I still was about her behavior.

“Well… After that, I didn’t get my period for a little while, and I thought I was pregnant.” Shock petrified me, my eyes widened as she kept talking, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. My thoughts were running rampant, and my mouth worked on its own, interrupting her, “H-How…?”

I had to curl my hands into fists to stop myself from spanking her for rolling her eyes at me when she threw her hands in the air in exasperation at my confusion. “What do you think? My prescription ran out and I wanted to put in that implant thing but my doctor can only see me next week… So I figured the safest thing for me to do was to hide away in here…”

Her voice faded away as I became hyper focused on her body, how her curves were only the slightest bit visible through the white fabric of one of Tom’s shirts. “So… You’re still…” If she heard me and offered me any sort of answer, I wouldn’t know.

All I could think about was the humiliation I’d be subjecting Tom to, if I’d managed to get her pregnant. How she’d become dependent on my support. How I could finally have all of her, all to myself.

God, it all made me so fucking hard.

“Come here.” Not giving her the time to even process my demand, I pulled her to me, connecting our lips in a hungry kiss. I figured my grip on her hips was hurting her, but I just couldn’t hold back - not anymore.

Ripping the shirt that she shouldn’t even be wearing in the first place, I only had one goal in mind as I bent her over the couch - to cum deep inside of her pussy, make sure she wouldn’t doubt she was pregnant by the time I was done with her.

“J-Jake…” She called me, probably trying to slow me down, talk me out of it, but I was too far gone to pay her any mind at the moment.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart. You’ve been keeping this body away from me for the last few days. You’ll handle whatever I decide is enough punishment for taking what’s mine.” A sigh escaped her lips right before my mouth descended on her, hands running up her back, stopping to squeeze her ass. Gripping it, I hoisted her leg over my hip so I could seat her on the kitchen counter, following her down once she tried to pull away to catch her breath.

“I need to taste you…” I’d missed the way she tasted. Pulling away and already regretting it, I made quick work of my shirt as I took in the beautiful woman spread out for me. Disheveled, panting and completely naked, there was only one thing missing for her to reach perfection.

Her belly filled with my child.

She was so wet, two fingers slipped in without any trouble. “Fuck…” I mouthed against her clit, swirling my tongue over it, trying to get more of her cream to drip between my lips. I didn’t know I had a breeding kink - I don’t think I had it before her, but hearing about what she went through in the past week had gotten me harder than I’d ever been in my entire life.

I doubted anyone else would be able to get the same effect.

“Yeah, you like this, don’t you, angel?” Smiling, I pulled away from her cunt to press a quick kiss to the inside of her thigh, still thrusting my fingers in and out of her as I watched her fuck herself up against them. “C’mon, cum for me…”

Her breathless little whines were my temptation. As I felt her pussy clench around my digits, I rushed to open up my jeans so I could fuck my fist, trying to release some of the unbearable need that I felt for her.

She’d get the brunt of it, though. I’d make sure of that.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck.” I found myself twisting and turning and rolling my hips up to meet his digits, desperate to reach that high I could feel him building inside of me. How did he manage to make me feel so much so easily? A simple swipe of his thumb over my clit and… it was bliss, in a way I’d never even known existed before the night we did this for the very first time.

“Good girl…” God, he couldn’t keep saying stuff like that. This man made me dumb - or crazy. The way he made me feel, the way he played with me… He could do anything he wanted to my body, and I’d just let him.

It’s why the alarm bells began to ring in my ears once he flipped me around, hand on his cock as he stared down at where I was spread open, dripping and wanton for him. “You look so perfect… You’ll look even better once I’m done with you.”

If I had any doubts as to what he was referring to, the way he shoved himself inside of me all at once answered my unformed questions. “J-Jake…” I tried to warn him, fingers curling over his bicep, nails biting his skin as he started to fuck me - unprotected. But he didn’t care.

“Fuck, yes…” He groaned against my shoulder, his warm breath eliciting chills on my skin as his cock somehow got harder inside of me. “You’re going to stay right there and let me cum deep inside this pussy.”

That should have been the moment I stopped it. I had the word on the tip of my tongue, ready to be pronounced, ready to end it all. One word, two letters, and still… I didn’t. Instead, a different word fell past my lips:

“Yes.”

The breathless surrender provoked a reaction I didn’t anticipate, and I was willing to bet neither did he. His entire body shaking with a shiver that ran down his spine, he dipped his head to connect our lips, and let his forehead rest against mine.

“Yeah, sweetheart? You want to give me a child? You want to be only mine?” Those were questions I could no longer answer. So I turned my face to the side, rubbing my cheek against his beard until he lifted his head to kiss me again.

It was as if we were stuck in a dream. No longer in control of my own body, movements or feelings, I held onto him as he moved inside of me, taking us higher and higher towards that all-too familiar bliss I wasn’t too sure had ever felt like this before.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he coached. “Come for daddy.” As he squeezed my ass, I did exactly that, eyes rolling back as my soul left my body momentarily to meet him in heaven. Jake buried his face in the crook of my neck, leaving his mark there once he’d stopped moving.

“Good girl,” he praised me once more, pressing a kiss to the spot he’d bitten. “You’ll look so pretty, round with my baby…” Slowly, I started to regain my senses, just as he got up and helped me to my feet as well.

My knees buckled, but I held onto him - strong and sturdy, everything a man should be - and that’s when I realized…

His cum was dripping from me.

“What did we do?”

#my fics #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal #smut #jake gyllenhaal reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader #rpf #jake gyllenhaal reader insert #jake gyllenhaal reader inserts #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fics

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kumacyy · 4 years ago

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Hi if it’s ok with you can you do one with Gojo x reader where the reader is a strict glasses teacher also at the school who looks gloomy and keeps to themselves mainly but after work one day he runs into them and he find out that they are actually beautiful looking and laid back, with a punk-styled look, piercings and tattoos? I’ve been reading Horimiya lately so it influence this ask.

Different

Ofc I would be more than happy though I'm quite unfamiliar with Horimiya in unfamiliar I ment I still haven't watched the anime

But I did do some research and watched a few clips of Horimiya and I think I got the gist of it and I hope you like it

I'm assuming that the reader is going to be Gender neutral

Unedited

Gojo, Satoru x Teacher! Reader

wc:2k

"Oya?" Gojo mumbled to himself curiously seeing an unknown person walking aimlessly around the school grounds. He was about to approach you that is until the school principal appeared and talked to them. They seem to be agreeing on something of course being the nosy manchild that he is. He interrupted their little conversation with a smug grin. "Whose this? Yaga?" He questioned while looking at you analyzing every detail he sees on your appearance.

Your big beautiful e/n eyes covered by your prescription glasses and your long and sharp nose to your plump lips and your long h/c hair. You were indeed beautiful/handsome "Y/n L/n" you said putting your hand out for him to shake. "Gojo, Satoru" he said taking your hand instead of shaking it like he should he instead kissed your hand "A pleasure to meet ya" he added while winking.

You just looked at him dumbfounded by his flirtation acts and quickly changed into your usual expression. "Pleasure is all mine." you said slipping your hand out of his and gave him a little bow "I would be the new 2nd year teacher." You said with not even showing any ounce of emotion. 'It's like having another Nanami' he thought.

"Well I shall get going and meet my new students it was nice knowing you Gojo-San." You said and started to head to the 2nd year dorms.

1 Month later

A month has passed you got used to everything that happens which consists of Gojo annoying you 24/7 and actually being friends with Nanami. You had been looking after the 2nd years and yes you have met Yuuta he just recently left to go overseas. Let's just say you got attached to them and vise versa to you. Heck You're practically a mother to them. And you recently heard that there are 2 new 1st years and one of them is actually sukuna's vessel.

You were of course curious so you went to talk to Gojo asking of you could join them in picking up the 3rd 1st year. "Oya? You want to come with me? What did I do to be blessed by your presence~" he said teasingly well that's what you thought but in reality he had been interested in you ever since you met. Call it a little crush he always wanted to get your attention wether it was negative or not he still wanted your attention. He was desperate I mean could you blame him you're a god sent.

Your appearance alone made him like you plus you graduated overseas so you're practically multilingual. You were strict but not too strict wherein you would embarass your own students, no you'll just tell them what's right and that they shouldn't do it again. You were soft at some point well you were particularly soft for Megumi and Maki hearing about their past made you pity them. And you also admire them at how strong they were for living through it.

"I just want to meet the 2 new 2st years and sukuna's vessel don't assume stupid things gojo-san" you said ignoring what hi said. "You know y/n-chan you should start calling me sotaru ya know? We've bonded so much from the past month" he said looking serious for once "bonded? More like annoy me" you said giving him a glance and you saw his grin falter a little "But I'll think about it sotaru" You added mumbling the last part.

He immediately brightened when he heard you say his first name and started grinning like an idiot. "Oh and yea you can come with me picking the 3rd 1st year up tomorrow morning at Morioka station" He said happily and left probably going to the first year's dorm.

Time Skip to tomorrow morning

You have arrived at Morioka station alittle early because some Manchild didn't tell you what the time of the pick up is so you explored the place a little. That is until you saw a familiar black spiky hair talking to a boy with pinkish hair and red Hood. You approach them immediately "Megumi!" You called out to him.

"y/n-sensei what are you doing here" he questioned you "I wanted to meet the vessel and the new 1st years" you said and looked at the boy with pinkish hair "is it you?" You added he nodded immediately "Hai! My name is Itadori, Yuji and my type is someone like Jennifer Lawrence!" He introduced himself while bowing you gave him a little nod "it's nice to meet you ita-" you said but got rudely interrupted by the Manchild.

"Sorry for the wait!" "Oh-!" "Y/n-chan you came!! And itadori you wore it" he said 'is it just me or he sounded happier at y/n than itadori/me' both Megumi and itadori thought "Sensei why is my uniform different from megumi's?" Yuji questioned "oh that's because you can hand in requests for the uniforms" Gojo replied "oh but I didn't request anything" Yuji said

"oh that's because I did it I just thought it would look good" Gojo said "oh- what happened to the uniforms I sent you?" He questioned "so it was you" you said " yes! So why didn't you use it?" He asked confirming your thought and with that you glared at him "I burned them" you said

"Huh?! Why??" He whined "who even in the right mind would even wear those" you said referring to the clothes he sent you well don't bother you don't wanna know. "You're disgusting Gojo" you said making a face (ya know like tanjiro's face to zenitsu) after seeing your expression he immediately stopped and started pounting "what happened to Sotaru?" He mumbled to himself hearing you call him by his last name.

"What a child" you and megumi thought. Then you saw a girl wearing what looks like the jujutsu tech uniform "that must be the 3rd 1st year." You mumbled "hey! Over here!" Gojo called out to her which conformed your assumption. And also attracted multiple unwanted attention many complimenting gojo which boosted his ego and made him happy and some talking about how you look good which made his expression falter.

Then after that you all went to a public locker (is that what it's called I'm not sure) where you put money in it to lock it. To put her luggage in and you all started introduce yourselves "the name's kugisaki Nobara" she said "you're lucky to hang out with a girl like me!" She added "I'm yuji itadori and I'm from sendai." He said 'what a hick. Probably a kid who ate his boogers as a kid.' Nobara thought "Megumi Fushiguro" he said 'Just his name? I hate guys who are all high and mighty. I bet he likes terrorizing seagulls by lighting them on fire or something.' Nobara thought then sighed.

"She just looked at us and sighed!" Yuji said then you stepped out behind gojo because he was in front of you (yeah you're short here hehehhehe) "Sorry I was blocked by someone" you said then glared at gojo "My name is Y/n L/n the 2nd year teacher of jujutsu tech" you said putting your hand out to shake "it's nice to meet you." You added "finally someone reliable." Nobara said

"Well! Let's do it a tour of Tokyo!" Gojo stated you and megumi had the same reaction nothing because one thing's for sure and that is he's just going to trick them while the other 2 however immediately fell for it. They started arguing not that you cared it doesn't really matter "we're going to Roppongi!" Gojo said

And that caught your attention you never been to roppongi before and let's just say Gojo noticed that he may be interacting with the 2 excited 1st years but his eyes and attention is all you looks like he is starting to fall in love.

Your Hopes of actually going to roppongi was crushed immediately and same goes with the 2 1st years when you all went to an eerie building that has a curse in it. It was actually a test for the new 1st year to see how "crazy she is" gojo quoted. And after that you all went to eat and went back to the dorms.

Skip to a day later

It was all normal and fine after the meet up no problems happened throughout the day. Well that is until you found out that a certain 1st year just died you were shocked of course. Yesterday he was just fine so you were currently wondering around Tokyo to clear your mind it was raining so it made you calmer most people think that a clear day is calmer you thought otherwise you always preferred staying indoors so you liked the rain.

You were currently wearing your usual clothing when going out, you know like shirt and shorts or something and since you weren't in school you could freely wear your piercings. Well you can wear your piercings in school you just preferred not to you don't want your students to get a piercing because of you, you'd be angry with yourself if that happens.

While walking around you saw a familiar gravity defying white hair and iconic blindfold who looked awfully dejected. From about a few meters from you who looked like getting soaked in rain (just imagine that he isn't using infinity) so you immediately went to his rescue and shielded him from the rain with your umbrella. He immediately looked at the reason why the rain stopped and was shocked that it turns out to be you in casual clothes and wearing piercings.

You looked beautiful/handsome before this just made your beauty skyrocketed to a thousand and he was now more interested in you. The way you have multiple ear piercings and that it's attached to both your ear without looking way too tacky is great and your lip piercing drives him to a frenzy especially when he saw your tongue piercing he just wants to drag you to his house and just do it.

You looked absolutely stunning. And it shocked him even more when you asked him to come with you to your apartment. He of course agreed because who wouldn't want to be alone with their crush I know I wont .

So once you guys went inside your apartment you immediately went straight to the bathroom to bring him a towel to dry off and extra clothes from your brother (If you don't have a brother just imagine you do in this bcs he needs clothes TT) who used to live here and hot coco to keep him warm. He was of course shocked to see that you have mens clothing and thought you have a boyfriend which saddens him but it wouldn't hurt to ask now would it? So he did ask.

"Whose clothes are these" he asked while sitting down on the sofa in front of the TV. Hoping it wasn't from your boyfriend "they were from my brother who used to live with me now he's living with his boyfriend" you said " he was quite a big man I think you guys have the same height so I thought it might fit you" you Added he let out a relieved sigh knowing you're still single. Then it clicked why have you been shutting down all his shots in trying to pursue you.

"Why do you always turn me down?" He asked which made you flinch "I-" you started thinking of a good answer to him "I'm afraid of commitment" you said while looking down (same gurl🤧🤧) "I had a bad past when it comes to relationships it always ends with them cheating me so I try to avoid it." You added "I can change that" he said looking at you holding your hands "I like you I really do" he said eagerly "I like you too" you mumbled he of course heard it "what? What did you just say?" He said trying to know if he wasn't hearing things "I-I said I like your hands" you stuttered and getting flustered.

"Oh..." he said dejected when you saw his expression you immediately felt guilty and left you didn't know how to handle emotions very well so you left to make dinner. He felt sad that you denied it instead of telling him the truth he couldn't blame you you were afraid of course but he wouldn't let that stop him he just grew more confident because of what you said earlier. After making dinner you went to check on him "um do you wanna join me for dinner?" You asked him " it'd be nice to have some company when eating for once." You added

"Yea sure why not" he agreed after dinner you guided him to the door and said your good byes "uh bye" he said about to leave but you stopped him by holding his hand which got his attention. And made him look at you and let's just say he was shocked when you pecked his lips and said "I like you too" then slammed your door to his hitting his face and ran to the kitchen to do the dishes.

To be continued...

Hey guys if you want a part 2 just message me maybe I might even make it a smut one.

So I hope you like it and I still do requests it came a little later than usual but it's because I got sick all of a sudden.

So thank you for reading!!!

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nancypullen · 2 years ago

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Time of Death 1:39PM

I’m calling it. I have religiously watered, fertilized, and pampered the pumpkin vines, but there’s still no evidence of baby pumpkins. I’ve had dozens upon dozens of blossoms, didn’t see any female flowers, and even if there’d been a girl bloom or two, I rarely see pollinators around here. There will be no Great Pumpkin at the Pullen house this year. Please respect my privacy during this difficult time. On a happier note, I’m not mad at the weather today. It’s wonderful. Normally this time of afternoon is like an oven. Could this be a hint of fall or am I reading too much into one cloudy day?

The mister and I have a date after he finishes work today. We’re crossing the state line and shopping at the Lowe’s in Camden, Delaware. It’s just 30 minutes away and they have a bird bath that I want. I’m trying to lure song birds to our patch and a water source is one way to do it. I could have been there and back while he’s upstairs working, but I may need his help lifting my purchase. Besides, maybe we’ll pick up dinner while we’re out. There’s a method to my madness. Always. Did I mention that Mickey has been asked by the Caroline County Tourism Board to photograph everything from parks to businesses for their new book/marketing launch? Yep, he’s only been here four months and he’s got fans. Here’s the best part - last week he went over to Ridgley to snap the historic train depot and the very popular Ridgely Pharmacy Cafe across the street. The cafe is known for its ice cream and it’s good lunches. It’s also a pharmacy...and there’s a gift shop upstairs. One stop shopping, folks. Have a cone while you’re waiting for your prescription, then pop upstairs and get granny’s birthday present. Anywho, as he chatted up the nice gals at the cafe and let them know what he was doing they insisted that he take home a container of their famous chicken salad, on the house. How nice! He dropped that off in the frig and said that he wanted to run over to Craft Bakery here in Denton and take a few snaps as well. Craft Bakery is HEAVEN. Pure, decadent, delicious heaven! We’ve had their quiche and I swear it compares to the quiche that made my eyes roll back in Paris. We’ve tried a variety of their baked goodies and can’t decide what’s best. They also do lunches - sandwiches and soups with flavor combos that will blow your mind. So I waved him off to Craft Bakery with my blessing. You guys, same scenario - he eplained his task and they sent him home with scrumptious goodies! Oh my.

#1 - Mickey’s favorite, the Prosciutto Everything Knot - warm & yeasty roll with prosciutto rolled in, topped with Everything Bagel seasoning

#2 - Another Mickey favorite, a bacon and scallion biscuit - tall, fluffy, and flavorful. #3 - Pumpkin Cheesecake Danish w/ Salted Toffee Drizzle - I mean, honestly, do I have to say anything else? This was TO. DIE. FOR. I cut off about a quarter of it and immediately went back for another quarter...until it was gone. #4 - The Morning Roll - I haven’t tasted this one, but they’re VERY popular at the bakery. Looks like a cinnamon-sugary delight. Mickey loves them. Disclaimer: Mickey has never met a baked good he didn’t like. #5 - Blackout Cookie - a delicious, deep, dark chocolate cookie with sea salt on top and it is FABULOUS. So thanks to Mickey’s snapping finger we enjoyed yummy chicken salad sandwiches for lunch and had amazing desserts for days. At this rate I’m going to need him to go photograph a Caroline County Weight Watchers group so I can get a free membership. Just kidding, I’d never give up Craft Bakery. That’s all the news I have to share on this Wednesday afternoon - just stuffing our faces and shopping for bird baths. We’re classy like that. I hope that your afternoon is peaceful, and if it’s not I hope you get a cookie. Just get the cookie anyway, you deserve it. Stay well, stay safe.

(still missing that key) Nancy

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years ago

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Chapter Two

Hiiii! Okay, soooo I wanted to get the new chapter out ASAP! I really, really love any of you guys who read/kudoed/commented or anything on AO3 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Means the world to me.

As I mentioned on here yesterday, my one eye is basically sore and I went to the eye doctor and basically can’t wear my contacts for a few days. So because of my how nearsighted I am and the fact that I haven’t updated my glasses prescription in over a decade .... I edited this chapter on my phone? So yeah. I think it turned out just as well as any of my other writing but ya know. For verification, if there’s some mistakes here or there. Ya girl was tryin, ok. 😂😂😂😂😅😅😅😅😬😬😬😬😬😬.

Okay anyways I’ll stop talking, here’s the next chapter :

“You just have to get to know her,” Peeta claimed. “Bailey’s a good person. Don’t let her outer shell fool you.”

What I really wanted to ask him was how he ever got beyond her—as he so delicately phrased it—outer shell.

Never big on social interactions, on top of being generally awful at making friends, I did my best to get all the information Peeta would willingly offer about his new, mysterious girlfriend, before having to deal with her directly.

Which wasn’t much. Peeta, the boy who gossiped about his father wanting to marry my mother while we were in a televised death match, who seemed to always have some insight on other people, who never hesitated to share his gossip with me before now, suddenly had tight lips when it came to Bailey Robyn.

The biggest emission I got from him was, “she had a childhood a lot like mine.”

I don’t know what that means? Bailey was the child of District Nine’s baker? District Nine had a class divide as well and she was of a merchant equivalent? She was a popular wrestler?

And then it hit me all at once. Like a train storming for the Capitol, it hit me with crushing force. Peeta never confirmed the fact, but the look in his eyes when I made the guess was enough to suggest I was right.

Bailey also grew up with an abusive mother. Just like Peeta.

The idea was a lot for me to process suddenly. I knew people who looked perfect could hide dark secrets. Peeta and Finnick Odair were both evidence of this. But for some reason I was taken aback by the notion that Bailey, who seemed so lively and pristine and collected, could have come from a violent and vicious household like the Mellark’s.

I mentally berated myself for the shock. How many times had strangers misjudged me in the last couple of years? How much had that infuriated me to find out?

When I go over to Haymitch’s house the following week for dinner, I make considerable effort in preparing myself to see Bailey sitting at the table.

And I’m not disappointed.

Bailey Robyn is sitting in the dining room when I walk in, half her hair gracefully combed into a cascading updo, looking as porcelain and perfect as ever. In her hand is a cookie covered in pink frosting, her mouth pulled up in a sparkling white smile as she laughs at something Haymitch has said.

Evidently Bailey puts my old mentor in a good enough mood, because he gives her a real genuine grin in reply.

Before turning to me with a scowl, of course. “Well, sweetheart, look who decided to join us?”

“I’m on time, Haymitch,” I immediately grumble, eyeing him with aggravation.

“If we give or take twenty minutes.”

But Bailey apparently wants to be my buffer. “Like you’ve ever been on time for anything, Haymitch Abernathy,” she retorts, looking at me knowingly. Like she’s trying to let me in on her joke. Like we’re old friends, who gang up on Haymitch together all the time.

A part of me feels displaced, as this interaction, if I didn’t know better, gives me the idea that I’m the odd one out and Bailey is the aquatinted one in this dynamic. But still, I take a deep breath and smile back in her direction.

I promised Peeta I would try. I promised to give Bailey a chance. And I’m not going to break another promise to him.

Not after everything that’s happened to him because of me.

Before I can find a semi-conversational thing to say back though, more voices join us.

“Katniss!” Delly chirps, rounding the corner from Haymitch’s pigsty living room with Peeta by her side.

“Oh, look who finally showed up,” Peeta says, teasing me.

I have an entirely different reaction to him nudging me versus Haymitch. Instead of getting defensive, I feel myself immediately blush, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I got held up in the woods.” My words somehow get choked in with a giggle and Peeta smirks in response.

Luckily for me, Bailey seems to not mind our interaction. Instead she laughs once again. “Held up in the woods by what?” She murmurs curiously.

“Knowing her?” Haymitch mutters, eyeing at me wryly. “Squirrels.”

I give the night my best effort. I talk to Bailey, ask her questions—pretend not to notice how elusive her answers are—and plaster a completely fake smile across my face, trying my best to appear as sweet and as pleasant as I am capable of.

However, by the end, I’m so glad Delly is there by my side that, without hesitating to think about it, I invite her to be a permanent member of our weekly dinners. If Peeta can bring Bailey every time—as I suspect he will—I can surely have someone here too. Someone else who is a bit apprehensive about the new addition, someone who doesn’t think I’m just blatantly rude for remaining on my guard.

I expected Haymitch, at least, would be a little unsure about Bailey. I expected he’d be at least slightly cautious of her presence. But instead the opposite seems to be true.

Instead Haymitch almost seems more apprehensive about me being at dinner.

Every time I glance at Peeta too long, every time I cringe—in my mind, internally, but evidently the old, paunchy man notices—when Bailey plants her lips all over Peeta, I feel him kick me in the leg, step on my foot, nudge me roughly as he passes by.

Delly finds the whole thing really funny. She finds Haymitch and my subsequent glares and glances more entertaining than any of the stories Bailey shares about District Nine.

And Delly Cartwright has never been one for subtly. She’s never been one for holding back her emotion either.

What should be her quiet chuckles are loud, snorting giggles and her standard laughs are practically hysterics.

And I find unexpectedly, when mixed with such a tense air, the sound of her boisterous laughter cracks even me up. Even Haymitch smiles a little.

Of course, the fact that this conjures up an image of me and Delly sharing some kind of inside joke is sort of an unexpected gift. I only realize it after the fact, but the idea that it looks like me and Delly are laughing together makes me feel suddenly less alone. Makes me feel suddenly like I belong here again.

Bailey is pleasant enough, I note to myself. She smiles in all the right places when someone else speaks, she manages to softly laugh in all the appropriate spots, she tell us vague details about her home in Nine easily enough.

Apparently she was born and raised on a farm, learned to produce grain from a young age and left her parents’ home at fourteen.

She makes no mention of the abuse Peeta implied but I never expected she would. It takes practically a microscope to uncover it in Peeta’s own tales. And even that’s from my point of view. An outsider who didn’t survive two games and a war with him would be hard-pressed to decipher it at all out of the stories he tells. I anticipated Bailey would be just as allusive.

I did not anticipate however, that Bailey would grow so uncomfortable when asked where she lived after she left her parents’ home. I didn’t expect her to look around the room in an abrupt, stiff silence, that she would stare past the walls of Haymitch’s home with a glassy look in her stone blue eyes, or that she would stand from the table without warning and flee down the hall.

And I’m thankful now that it was Delly who asked the question and not me, as surely my old mentor, who’s nearly smashed by this point, would find a way to cast the blame onto me.

“Did I say something wrong?” Delly asks, genuinely disturbed that she apparently must have hurt Bailey. She may not be her biggest fan, but Delly Cartwright isn’t one to intentionally upset people.

Peeta hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, she’s just... it’s nothing you did, Delly,” he promises but his voice is far away now too, and his gaze flickers towards the hall the blonde disappeared down.

Still, Delly bites her lip in fear she caused an issue and excuses herself from the table in a haste, offering to clean everyone’s dishes.

Neither me nor Peeta—or even Haymitch himself—say not to bother. The house itself is in atrocious condition after the decades of neglect and washing the dishes will only cover the plates in grim and mold instead of food. But it’s not about the actual cleansing of the dishes and we all know it. It’s about avoidance.

Something the three of us know more about than anyone ever should.

I use the given opportunity to catch Peeta’s eye. “What’s going on?” I murmur under my breath, hoping Haymitch wouldn’t insert himself into the conversation for once, that he won’t shut my question down and bark at me for being nosy.

“Bailey just needs a minute,” Peeta states, and I can tell from his tone it’s better not to ask again. Whatever’s going on with his girlfriend has him on edge as well. It seems to me, at least.

The next thirty minutes feel like hours as they pass. No one speaks. Haymitch is almost out cold from his liquor. Peeta refuses to meet my eyes or even so much as tear his gaze from the direction Bailey walked off in. I’m about to tell him to just go after her, when she decides to reappear.

Like magic, she reappears, her face seemingly flawless, her smile as bright and as stunning as before, her poise back again like it never slipped.

“Are you okay?” I ask anyway though, because there’s no use in pretending she didn’t just run off after a harmless comment. Delly obviously wants the answer to the same inquiry or she wouldn’t be currently lingering in the doorframe, afraid to even enter the room.

Still, I receive a pointed glance from Peeta and an outright disgusted look from a barely coherent Haymitch.

I fight my natural instincts that says to justify myself. My natural instincts that tell me they’re being far too defensive over a simple question.

And for what reason? Peeta just met her a few months ago and Haymitch probably wouldn’t be able to tell her apart from half the merchant girls in the district. What is it about Bailey that makes both of them take up their metal armor to protect?

“I’m fine,” she says lightly, and offers a tight, closed-mouth smile that doesn’t come across as real for a second. “Delly, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“No,” the typically bubbly blonde says almost instantly. There’s a waiver in her voice and I feel a pang of sadness spread across my chest, because Delly is obviously afraid of even being in the same room as Bailey now.

“Okay well, we should be going anyways, Peeta,” she says definitively and tugs on his hand with a bit too much force. If you ask me.

“Me too,” I murmur before mentally kicking myself, realizing that I just boxed myself into a corner, looking like I was playing a game and trying to tag along with them for the walk home.

Well, the entire two minutes it takes to get to each of our respective homes, that is.

Even without the added awkwardness of tagging alongside Peeta and his girlfriend, a part of me—a naive, juvenile part—doesn’t want to watch Bailey enter through Peeta’s front door, doesn’t want to accept the fact that she isn’t just spending the night, that his home is now hers too, as a definitive fact.

Within a matter of days, his home is officially her’s. I already know it must be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m anxious by any stretch of the imagination to have the suspicion confirmed.

Haymitch chuckles darkly though, seemingly at my expense, as he lifts his head from the grimy table. “I see someone’s trying to escape before we can light the candles and start singing.”

I blanch the same moment I feel Peeta’s eyes turn and land on me in shock.

I was hoping everyone had forgotten my birthday somehow.

Read The Rest On AO3

#everlark #thg #hunger games #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fic #everlark fic #everlark fanfic #dancing on my own 💔👸🏼✨#jealousy #jealousy fic

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amelialincoln · 3 years ago

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We're Still Standing

She hadn't realized she had fallen asleep until she was being shaken aggressively out of subconsciousness. Amelia opened her eyes drowsily and realized immediately how cold she was. It took her a minute to adjust to the dim light illuminating from the lantern that hung beside the swing on the porch.

“What the hell are you doing? I was worried sick.” Her boyfriend’s familiar voice rang from above her and she felt his warm, oversized jacket wrap around her shivering frame. Amelia blinked at him, trying to recall why she was on Meredith’s front deck. Oh shit.

“I’m so sorry,” she slurred, shaking her head out of its daze. “I drove to Mer’s out of habit and I must’ve passed out.”

“We’ve been living in the apartment for two weeks.” His tone was firm and he stretched out a hand to pull her off the uncomfortable wooden swing. “Did you--” She knew what he was going to say before he had the chance to finish.

“No, no, I’ve actually barely been thinking about it since I started working again. I think my body is just still adjusting to the long hours.” She accepted his hand and glanced at her dim phone screen. It read 2:50am. No wonder he seemed so shaken up. She bit her lip, trying to hide her guilt.

“Oh, really?” He paused, trying to find the right words, cautious as always. “You seemed like you were struggling with it a bit while we were living at Mer’s.”

“I haven’t taken that much time off work since I was an intern, other than when I was using,” she explained as he opened the car door for her. “My sobriety depends on being able to fill my time with things I’m passionate about. I’m just getting back to feeling like myself again.”

“Okay…” Link replied, shutting the door gently and climbing into the driver’s seat. He pulled out of Mer’s driveway and waited until they were on the freeway. “So this has nothing to do with the conversation we had last night?” She was almost taken aback by how well he knew her. After spending almost every second together, over the last couple of months, she could barely keep anything from him without Link somehow noticing when something was wrong.

“It's just kind of a lot to put on someone,” she muttered.

“What do you mean?” He asked, glancing at his girlfriend who was twisting pieces of her chocolate brown hair nervously.

“It’s just that the expectation of me to be popping out your babies all the time is a bit overwhelming,” she glanced out the window as Link merged into their usual exit. “I just got back to work, Link.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was just getting excited. I didn’t mean like now.” He placed a soft hand on her thigh and felt her relax slightly. “We talked about having other kids a lot while we were at Meredith’s. I’m sorry if I jumped into the future too quickly.”

“Meredith’s was a different time. I was really hormonal and barely had time to actually process what was happening.” She forced a grin which made him raise an eyebrow.

“Well, how many of our conversations and decisions were made when you were hormonal?” He turned to look at her and watched her gaze fall. “All that stuff about marriage and houses and massive backyards?” He was dancing around the four kids that she had specifically outlined to him as her preference.

“Link, you and Scout are enough for me. I don’t need anything else.”

“Don’t need or don’t want?” He asked as he pulled into his apartment’s parkade. “Those are two very different things, Amelia.”

“Can we talk about this in the morning? I’m not thinking straight right now,” she answered honestly.

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

[][][]

Amelia was awoken the next morning to Scout being placed on her bare chest. Sun streamed in through the shutters of their third story bedroom and the glittering light from the ocean reflected like shards of glass on the white walls of the room. Link’s apartment was utter perfection, with a perfect view of Elliott bay and situated on a central, but not too busy, street close to downtown. It made her question why he was itching to move out so fast and start building the house he’d been fantasizing about for the last couple of weeks.

“Hi baby,” she smiled as Scout’s blue eyes stared up at her sleepily. He was always the most cuddly in the morning and she shifted to a position where he was able to wrap his pudgy arm around her neck. “Where’s your Dadda?” As if on cue Link strolled into the bright room, his long hair was disheveled and his face wore a hint of exhaustion. Probably from being up all night searching for her, she realized. He held two steaming mugs of coffee and the scent hit her forcefully as he held it under her chin for her to take a small sip.

“He’s been missing you a lot lately.” He lowered himself onto their bed gently and placed both of the mugs on the side table. “Ma ma, ma ma, all day long.” She laughed at his decent impression of Scout’s latest attempts at talking. “You think with all the time he’s spent with Dadda,” he spoke the word loudly at his giggling son, “He’d start liking me at least half as much as you,” Link joked.

“Mama’s boy.” Amelia shrugged, pressing a kiss to the top of her baby boy’s head and suppressing a yawn.

“Bailey texted you not to come in because neuro is slow today but she put you on call. I turned off your alarm. Thought you might need the rest.” He explained, his voice free of judgment. “You also got a call from our health insurance place. Our plans are ending in a week and we’ve still got some credit so I called the pharmacy to renew your birth control prescription. I noticed your pack this month was almost finished.”

“Oh,” she turned to face him, suddenly reminded that she needed to take her pill. “Yeah...thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugged. “I can probably pick it up sometime today.” He handed her the cup of coffee, reading her thoughts before she could even ask for it and watched as she swallowed the tiny pill down.

“Link, it’s--” “Fine,” he shrugged. “I don’t have any expectations of you, Amelia. I know you went through a lot with Owen,” he made a face she didn’t recognize before taking a large gulp out of his own mug and clearing his throat. “I don’t want to make you feel trapped or obligated to fulfill my own selfish desires. It’s your choice and I’m not going anywhere...unless you want me to,” he paused, allowing her space to speak if she wanted to before continuing. “I was an only child and it was tough. It would’ve helped to have a sibling to lean on during my parent’s divorce and I guess that’s my own stuff that I should probably work through instead of pushing you into a situation that you don’t want to be in. I’ve seen you go through hell with your sisters and I understand where you are coming from. Most of all, I’d never want to force you to quit the thing you love doing the most. I also think that would be doing a disservice to the world because my girlfriend is a freaking superhero and she’s got hundreds upon hundreds of people to still save. So can we just pretend that everything I selfishly said to you didn’t happen? Cause I usually don’t like to talk everything out but I was up all night trying to put how I was feeling into words and I still feel like I did a shitty job.” “Now you know how I feel all the time,” she laughed, slipping her hand into his and wishing she could erase the stress that was radiating from him. “Screwing up while trying to get my point across is my specialty.”

“That’s not true, you’re one of the most well spoken people I know.” Link rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his coffee and looking a little bit more relaxed.

“There’s a lot of people who would say otherwise,” Amelia joked, pulling their duvet up to Scout’s shoulders as he began to fall asleep on her chest. “You weren’t being selfish,” she finally sighed. “If anyone’s not being fair it's me. I feel like my mind is switching up on me a hundred times a day. Since I’ve had the tumor I find myself constantly second guessing myself, trying to figure out what I want. Some days all I want is to be a mom. I feel like having Scout has made me become a better person and a better surgeon and I wouldn’t change that for the world. I don’t regret having him for even a second. Every single part of me loves him...and you. To the point where when I am at work, where I am usually at my happiest, I still find myself missing the both of you. Which scares me because there’s never been a doubt in my mind at work that I’m not exactly where I want to be. And I know for a fact that if we were to have another baby, or two or three, that I would find myself not being able to compromise between my love for operating and my love for my family. I know I would have to choose. And I don't think that I can. At least not right now.” Link nodded his head in understanding. “But when I can, you’ll be the first to know,” She laughed, causing him to grin.

“Well, I would hope so.” He rolled his eyes, pulling her closer to him gently, careful not to wake their sleeping son before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, Mia, and I'm not going to force you into anything. So for the love of god, stop running and just tell me how you feel because it's going to take a whole lot more than not wanting another baby right now to scare me off."

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #amelink fanfiction #ameliashepherd #amelinkfanfiction #greysanatomy #atticus link #link

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sope-and-shine · 4 years ago

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Lost and Found

-> Namjoon x Reader -> Soulmate!AU // Fluff -> 6.2k (This fic was at 6,199 before post, and I couldn’t let that happen) -> Summary: In a world full of soulmates and soul marks, you just had to get stuck with the dynamic duo. -> Warning(s): none // maybe just fluff

A/N: I suggested the name to Belle as I was drafting the post, and she said she’d sue me if I didn’t use it.

ALSO! A BIG BIG BIG THANK YOU TO BOTH @multycoloredtaco and @purpletigertaetae for reading this and giving me some really good feedback! I love you both SO MUCH!

* * *

Soulmates have always come in several different shapes and sizes. They’ve always appeared to each other in various ways. Your mother and father met by their own personal song that only the two knew of, one that played when they spared a thought to the other. Your aunt had found your uncle with a timer on her wrist, and your grandpa had the unfortunate fate of meeting your grandmother while catcalling her. According to him, it was a very eventful day, but at least her words to him finally made sense. Everyone in your family - besides your great aunt who hasn’t aged since the late 1890s - has had the amazing luck of finding their soulmate. Not everyone gets the luxury of being with their soulmate how they planned to. You’re actually friends with a shop owner who lost his soulmate about a year ago and hasn’t seen any color since. You honestly couldn’t imagine the pain he’s been through. Thankfully, your soulmate mark was not as painful.

It was just extremely annoying.

As a child, you never questioned the items that would appear in your room, thinking of them as odd gifts that your parents or your brother would leave for you. You were no stranger to finding a single sock under your bed, the occasional candy bar tucked away in your backpack, or the odd action figure that you would take to your brother thinking it was his. It wasn’t until the first homework assignment with ‘Kim Namjoon’ scrawled at the top that you began to think something wasn’t right. And that was only the beginning of what was to come.

As the years went by, more and more random items began appearing in your room at your parents house, your dorm in college, and finally your very own apartment. Each item you placed in boxes under your bed as a way to keep a piece of him with you until you could find him. However, you never imagined how forgetful and chaotic your soulmate could really be. You have everything! Clothing items, more homework assignments, various books, glasses, baby photos, and you even have a random girl’s phone number! You were tempted to call her when you first found it, but you figured that would be too weird. Instead, you continued to organize everything under your bed in hopes of giving it all back to him when you would finally meet.

Of course, you were a victim to your soulmate mark as well. Many jewelry items had disappeared from your room without a trace as a result. Hoodies, stuffed animals, and even a bra that you could’ve sworn you put in your gym bag - part of you hoped he’d hide it away because not only was it a cute bra, it was also expensive. Recently though, you’ve both been a lot more responsible. You haven’t seen any new items appear in your apartment for almost a month, and with your soulmates track record of losing 11 items in one day, a month was a huge record on his part. But you were starting to miss the gifts that would give you clues to him.

After you found out what your soulmate mark really was, you started looking forward to what would be left in your room next. Of course, it wasn’t always a win on your part, and sometimes what he lost was very questionable, but it always made you laugh when another item appeared in your room. At first, it was weird to think about someone else’s stuff appearing in your room with no prior warning, but it made you feel special to know that he was ultimately giving you pieces of himself every time he let something out of his sight. They made your long days more bearable. It makes you wonder if he’s the type of person to shower you with gifts when you feel upset or just to show his affection when he felt it was necessary. Especially on a rough day like today.

There was nothing wrong with your job, you loved everything about it! Life as a lead optician was actually a very rewarding job in the end. Helping others choose the best glasses for their face and individual personalities was one of your favorite parts, you loved watching little old ladies try on vibrant, colorful frames to feel youthful. They’re always very excited to see clearly again. Then there are all the little kids who would sit down with you to get glasses for the first time, and the look on their faces when they finally got to see the world clearly was heartwarming. Their soft smiles and wide eyes filled with amazement always made you feel a little softer inside. However, not everyday was a good day, and today was really not a good day.

Everything was going perfectly fine until the 3:30 appointment showed up at 5:00 after the doctor had already left for the day and demanded to be seen. The doctor’s technician was so scared trying to explain to the patient that they’d have to reschedule their appointment, and the poor thing was just trying not to cry over the one person who couldn’t understand how society works. Obviously, as the lead optician on duty you took over, but this patient was one of the most inconsiderate people you’d ever had to deal with. Demanding to be seen, demanding to buy glasses with an old prescription, demanding to speak to a manager - which at this point was actually you, so done and done - and just cursing up a storm at you and your fellow coworkers who all tried to help explain. The whole ordeal just took way longer than it ever should have to deal with, and it probably took at least 25 years off of your life.

“Why do people feel that they need to be rude to get what they want?” Soohyun had asked you, “Do they think it’ll just magically fix everything?”

You had agreed, “It’s like they think you’re really just messing with them. Like, “Oh no, sir! You’re correct! I apologize for the inconvenience, let me pull that out of my ass for you!” Though maybe not appropriate for the work environment, you’d at least made her day just a little better with your humor.

On days like today, a nice warm shower and a cuddle pile with all of the pillows and plushies that cover your bed made everything much better when nothing new appeared in your room. If the odd gifts the universe left from your soulmate couldn’t cheer you up, then you’d do it yourself. And that you did. Nothing felt better than the warm water washing away the day’s pain and suffering, the delicate fragrance of the coconut shampoo you splurged on easing your worries down the drain. The floral body lotion and leave-in-conditioner you’d bought on the same shopping excursion also help your body relax, their scents so intoxicating to you, that you almost topple over onto the tiled floor of your bathroom from the instant pleasure they pull from you. Instead, you make your way to your bed, adorned in your comfiest PJs and fluffiest socks.

However, you weren’t expecting to land on something so hard and uncomfortable when you plopped face first onto your sheets.

“What the heck?” Pushing yourself onto your knees and pulling back the covers, you find a small, golden trophy resting comfortably in the warmth of your sheets. On all sides it reads, ‘MNET Asian Music Awards’ with a small plaque reading, ‘2017 MNET Asian Music Awards: Artist of the Year’ at the bottom of one side. It takes you a moment to understand fully what you hold in your hands before it actually hits you.

Your soulmate is an idol.

A forgetful idol if he lost such an important award, but at least this gave you a lead as to who your soulmate is besides one of the most common surnames and a few measly pairs of mismatched socks.

Setting the award to the side, you grab your phone from your nightstand and unlock it, clicking on your browser and typing away. You look up the artist of the year from 2017 and find the top result to be a boy band called BTS. According to Google’s nice little summary and AllKPOP’s top article, they seemed to be pretty famous. Of course, you’ve heard of them before, and if you heard one of their songs then there was a good chance you’d probably recognize it! But you’ve never really been one for boy bands. You were more into kdramas if you were to be completely honest, they’re definitely your guilty pleasure and way more your speed than handsome young men dancing on stage in front of screaming girls trying to get in their pants. Could you really blame them? No. Not at all. Given the chance, you’d take it, but it wouldn’t be anything special if it wasn’t your soulmate.

Your soulmate.

Namjoon.

Changing your question, you search for ‘Kim Namjoon BTS’. If he actually pops up, then that would mean you actually know who he is.

Finding the nerve to press search, you are bombarded with three pictures above a description of him right off the bat - You hate to admit it, but soulmate or not, he’s definitely handsome. You click on a random site you hope will give you some useful information about the man who’s most likely your soulmate and are immediately redirected to something called K-Profiles. The site itself starts off with a group picture of all the members, followed by their names below it, and their social media handles under that. You’d have to look them up later.

The first member you come across is your soulmate himself. He has his blonde head resting on top of his arms with a soft, dimpled smile as he stares right back at the camera. Eyes locked onto his through the screen, you can feel your heart speeding up just from looking at him. You can’t help but smile back at him as if he can actually see you. As if he were right there ready to come out and say ‘hi’.

He’s absolutely breathtaking, and it isn’t even him.

You continue your hunting, scrolling further down to learn as much as you can about him. How old he is, when he was born, where he was born, what his favorite color is, you want to know it all! You learn that he’s the leader of the group, that he used to be known as Rap Monster before he changed it - that USB in the box under your bed made a lot more sense now. You learn that he has a sister, and that he and his band members are advocates for UNICEF, and that this man was so incredibly intelligent yet also known as the ‘god of destruction’ to those around him. But also listed on his profile is his soulmate mark.

“As said in a V-Live where RM explained a stuffed animal he kept on his desk, anything RM loses will appear with his soulmate and vice-versa. He has yet to meet his soulmate.” You read. You’ve lost quite a few stuffed animals to Namjoon, hopefully, it wasn’t an embarrassing one that would haunt you later.

You come to the end of his profile and to the top of another handsome man, yet you don’t scroll down. You haven’t learned enough. You need to know more about him, about how you can meet him. You have to know more! And that’s how you find yourself still up at 5am the next morning still wide awake watching yet another video interview of your soulmate just to hear his voice. A part of you is embarrassed for staying awake all night for some guy, but another part of you can’t let it go when you’re so deep already.

* * *

You called into work after your late night-early morning escapade, telling them you caught something from one of your friends and wouldn’t be in for the next few days. There was no way you were going anywhere with the sleep you just got, and it wouldn’t be fixed in one day either. Even after sleeping the morning away you were still tired from your late night-early morning endeavor. It’s not like you really cared though, you had just found out who your soulmate was. And unlike a lot of other people in the world, you had an entire collection of videos dedicated to just your soulmate and his passion.

It didn’t take long for you to dig your nose back into the screen of your phone just to watch him make that gorgeous, dimpled smile. There were so many videos where he talked about you, sharing some of the items you had lost with his fans like they were his best friends. He looked so proud to be showing off your things, and the look in his eyes when he’d get lost in his own thoughts just looking at them made your heart melt.

You’d heard your mom and dad talk about how happy they were to have a special song just for the two of them. Your mom used to tell you all about the day your father tracked her all the way from the grocery store, pushing through the crowd like a love interest in a kdrama because he heard her humming their song to herself. At a young age you always thought it was sweet and wanted to meet your soulmate just like your mom had, but you eventually realized as you got older that a strange person following you home is not something you want. However, now you kinda wished it could work like that, seeing that your soulmate was practically untouchable.

Of all the people in the world, you just had to get stuck with a celebrity with millions of girls from all over the world fawning over him. Getting chased in the streets must be on this guy’s workout regimen by now! How were you supposed to get anywhere near him without spending over $1,000 just to look at his face?

“How much are those fan-meet things?” You ask yourself aloud. Innocent enough, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the entire process that came with going to just one fansign. This wasn’t something you could just buy a ticket for. No. You had specific steps that you had to follow or you wouldn’t even stand a chance. There were so many steps that you were tempted to just find his company and blast music until security came to take you away. Maybe you’d at least get to meet him when they filed a restraining order.

No. You HAD to meet him. You haven’t saved all of his lost things just for you to chicken out now.

So, you made a fancafe account and waited for their next promotion to purchase an album, you waited for the lottery winners to be announced, and you almost doubled over when you saw your name on the list from the store. You thought 3 months was long enough, but the 24 hours before the event were the longest hours of your life. So long that you couldn’t even sleep!

That’s where the wrench comes in.

You hadn’t meant to stay up so late at all, but you were really excited to finally meet the man that’s been losing everything he touches - especially now that he’s started losing air pods under your bed. So, when you woke up at 10:30am for the fansign that started at 11, you knew you’d messed up.

You messed up bad.

Of all the irresponsible things you could’ve done, staying up late was not the one you should’ve chosen to do. Now, you’d have to wait even longer to see him. Maybe the universe was right to give you both the worst soulmate mark known to man.

It wasn’t like waiting for the next fansign was bad, but it wasn’t the best either. Everyday that passed was another day that you had to watch him through a screen. Seeing his dimpled cheeks smile at the camera - at you - making your heart race. He was so close to you, but he was so out of reach. When the next fansign did come around, you had to make sure you made it on time so you could see it in person for yourself.

That’s what you told yourself.

To your credit, you almost did do that! But you had no idea there would be so much traffic. Not only that, but you’d tripped and dropped the box of things to return to him on the street and had to pick it up before anyone saw what it was you were holding. Because of those small issues, you made it to the venue five minutes after they had closed the doors.

“Please, I’m only five minutes late!” You beg, breathing heavy and labored. You stare at the worker just doing her job with high hopes that she would have some sort of empathy for you, but her face showed no remorse.

“If you wanted to be let in, then you should have been on time.” She scolds, closing the doors on you and leaving you outside to wallow in self pity once more.

At least the first time you’d messed up you were in the comfort of your own home where you could cry over your failure. Now, you were left in the open for everyone to see your mistake. You were so close too. He was just behind the doors. Waiting to see the adoring faces of his fans that you should be a part of.

Yet you’re on the streets.

* * *

“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?”

“What makes you say that?” You turn to your friend from your seat on the ground outside of the shop you’d purchased your album from, dressed in a light hoodie with a coffee in your hand. The light of day just peaking through the cracks between the buildings as the street lamps turn off for a new day.

At this point in your journey to meet your soulmate, you weren’t going to take any more chances. The store didn’t open for another 3 hours, and the event started an hour and a half after that, but you were going to be sure you had your ticket and made it to the venue on time. You didn’t care how early you were, you were going to see Namjoon if it was the last thing you did.

The poor, tired woman seemed to pick up on your indifference to your change in behavior and sighs, “Nothing in particular. I’m just concerned that maybe you’re taking this to the extreme now.”

“I’ve tried and failed three times already, Bomi. I cannot miss another chance to meet them!” You explain, taking a sip from your warm cup.

“Maybe the universe is trying to tell you that they’re just a boy band and you shouldn’t get so excited over them. They all have soulmates anyways.” Of course she didn’t know that you were going because one of them was your soulmate, but you couldn’t risk anyone finding out and telling your soulmate before you could tell him.

“I know that, but it’s worth it!” All the hours you’d spent waiting, watching their new content, reading their tweets and various posts from other social media wishing you could see him in person for just a moment. This was the fourth attempt, and you didn’t want to continue this cycle of hit and miss. “I’m not missing it this time.”

“Well, waiting outside of this shop so early just to get a ticket that’s already yours is absurd!”

“You didn’t have to come with me.” You grumble. It wasn’t like you didn’t know that. You were very much aware of the fact that it was insane. It was something you thought about every time you failed to make it into the venue! Having her reiterate what you already knew did not make it any easier.

However, your acquaintance wasn’t having your response, “I did. You blackmailed me into coming with you so you’d actually do it right, remember?”

The vague memory of sending her an embarrassing picture you had as a way to convince her to come flashes through your mind. So maybe your methods were unconventional, but they worked. “That’s not important!”

You both continue to wait by the store’s entrance, making light conversation as more people begin to show up for their own tickets. Of course, you knew they’d be here, that’s why you left extra early to be there first. It was a good thing you did too, because as the time ticked on and the line grew longer, it became obvious a lot of fans had purchased their albums from the same store you had. Even as the store owner arrived to start their day, not at all surprised by the line that had formed for them, there were still fans lining up for their tickets.

But in the end, you were first to arrive and receive your ticket, and that made you one of the first to the venue.

“Alright, we made it. This is where I leave you.” Bomi hikes her bag further onto her shoulder and turns to face you one last time before she leaves, “Don’t make a fool of yourself in there. And do not show them your airpod collection!”

‘Oh, I’m returning the airpod collection…’ You think to yourself, sending a quick wave goodbye to her.

Waiting for the doors to the venue to open didn’t take as long as you’d thought it would - security check taking even less time. You found your seat pretty easily as well, being placed on the left side of the empty table in the middle of the sea of chairs. Taking the time you have while everyone finds their seats, you take a peek inside of the box you’d brought to grab your album and just look at everything you’d brought to begin their return to Namjoon. You made sure to bring every pair of air pods you had found - and hadn’t sold on eBbay - a few old homework assignments, USB’s, pictures he’d taken through his pre-debut, and the trophy he’d misplaced that lead to your discovery.

Hopefully his band members wouldn’t be too upset with him.

You’d learned a lot about each of them over the two years you’ve spent trying to meet with Namjoon. So many times you’d been tempted to put yourself on the fan page or DM them on Twitter, but you were too afraid of being drowned out by other ARMYs or one of the other boys blocking you before Namjoon could see. No doubt they each probably had hardships of their own trying dodge fans claiming to be their soulmate. Watching as they each come to the stage individually, you could see why anyone would lie to call them theirs. You couldn’t deny how handsome they all were - you’d be lying to yourself if you said you thought they weren’t handsome - but no one could compare to your Namjoon.

If you get the opportunity to meet his stylist, then you’re going to give her the biggest hug for making him look this amazing! It was just a plain white, button down shirt tucked into a black pair of dress pants, but the top two buttons of his shirt undone and the grey, satin suit jacket with the addition of black, square glasses and his brown hair neatly parted to the left make him look like a god - should they exist. He takes your breath away, even if you’ve seen every picture and fancam you were able to find. The universe really said, “this one deserves the best” and threw you the biggest catch out there. You could only hope he enjoyed the simple pair of jeans and pastel yellow sweater you’d thrown on for the occasion.

It takes a while before they begin the meet and greet part, the boys introducing themselves and asking questions, letting their fan sites take pictures before they turn their attention to the individual fans as they pass them. With every moment that passes by, every row you watch stand and enter the line to the stage, you become more and more nervous. Of course, you knew your soulmate was truly Namjoon, but you were still terrified to reveal that truth in front of everyone. You’d seen a few announcements regarding the boys and their soulmates, talking about how their respective soulmate would be treated like another one of the boys and would be protected by BigHit as soon as they were found. You knew you’d at least have his company behind you, but…

What about his fans?

You can’t help but fester in your own thoughts, letting them consume you even as you make your way into the line with your box. You try your best to muster up the courage you need, but the looming presence of the table getting closer and closer makes your breathing harder. All you need to do is remain calm. They were just people.

The people who’ve spent almost 7 years with your soulmate.

And your soulmate himself.

No biggie.

“Ma’am.” The voice of the staff keeping the line interrupts your internal panic, pulling you back to reality. He points to the table where an excited Taehyung smiles eagerly at you with an empty space in front of him. “You’re next.”

“Yes! Thank you.” Reeling from embarrassment, you quickly kneel down to the space in front of the table. You give a small bow and hand over your album to the boxy-smiled boy in front of you, your hands shaking from how nervous you are. All you had to do was make it through 5 more boys and you’d meet your soulmate.

5 more people....

...and you’d meet your soulmate.

A hand lands on top of your own, “There’s no need to be nervous!” Taehyung is bright and happy, calmly running a thumb over the back of your hand as he uses the other to sign your album. His eyes shift from you to the paper and back to you, “You’re doing great~”

You felt a little bad for probably ignoring him. He must’ve been trying to introduce himself when he’d noticed you’d spaced out yet again. Yet here he was, acting as though it wasn’t even that big of a deal. Of course, he still had about 50 more people or so to have a minute conversation with, but he genuinely seemed to care. It made you feel more confident.

“Thank you.” You say, a smile gracing your lips. You were still nervous, but at least now you felt calm and somewhat collected to at least make it through the other members. You move onto Yoongi, then to Jeongguk, to Jin, to Jimin, and then to Hoseok. Once again, you’re feeling a little guilty about the time you spend with him. It wasn’t like you weren’t excited to be in front of him, but your soulmate was less than 2 feet away from you looking like he walked out of a Vogue photo shoot with a happy little smile on his face. Hopefully, if all goes well you can apologize to him for being distracted.

The staff moves everyone along and your time finally comes. You bid Hoseok a quick thank you and goodbye and move yourself in front of Namjoon, his box tucked close to your body as a way to keep you grounded.

Namjoon takes your album from Hoseok before he turns his full attention to you, his dimples that you’d been obsessed with since you’d first seen them making an appearance. His dark brown eyes stare into your own, “Hi, what’s your name?”

You’re so entranced by the man in front of you that you almost don’t respond. You manage a quiet, “(Y/n)...” But you’re so stunned and breathless that you think about repeating it just to make sure he hears it.

“Really?” He asks. His eyes widen for just a moment, and you know he recognizes it from a homework assignment or a book you’d probably lost with your name in it. You watch his shoulders as they tense and then relax as if they’d never lifted in the first place. “I really like that name. It’s one of my favorites.”

You watch him turn to the album in front of him, looking for the page you’d like him to sign. Being in front of him now, you feel your confidence grow. You can’t help yourself, “Really? Is there a reason?”

“I’ve just always liked the name.” He says, looking up momentarily with a tight smile. He probably didn’t want to be too obvious about his soulmate - well, you - so fans wouldn’t go looking for you. That must be the one downside to the life of an idol. You watch him carefully, taking in the way he handles your album with care. You watch him flip through pages, his smile slipping for a confused frown. He looks at you, “You don’t have a question for me?”

You jump at the sudden realization that you hadn’t given him the box yet, “No! I do…” This was it. You look from him to the box you’ve clung onto for two years, “It’s inside the box.”

Carefully, you slide the box forward, feeling the nerves you’ve been feeling all day spring to life. He takes it from you with a grateful smile, probably expecting a bear or something you’d made yourself just for him. But judging by the look on his face, you can tell he wasn’t expecting to find the objects in front of him. His shocked face makes you chuckle.

“I’ve always wondered how one person can lose so many things. I understand homework and socks, the airpods, but an entire trophy, Namjoon? How do you lose a trophy?” You ask. You wait for an answer, but he looks as if he’s completely shut down. His jaw hangs open ever so slightly, and his eyes are wide in disbelief. You see a glisten in his eyes and your amusement turns to worry, “Are you okay?”

The leader turns to you, glistening eyes staring into your own. His mouth opens and closes and it looks like he’s trying to find the right words to say, “I-...I don-...oh my god, you’re actually here.”

You watch as the shine in his eyes turn to tears that slowly roll down his cheeks, his mouth struggling to decide if he wants to frown or smile. You’re more worried than anything, “Wah-! Don’t cry! Why are you crying?!” You reach for his hands that still rest on the sides of the box, mimicking what Taehyung had done for you when you first stepped up to the table. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He says softly, his voice cracking ever so slightly. You’re still confused if he himself is happy or not, trying to make sense of why he’s crying when he just met you. You watch his eyes drift over you with an unclear expression. Was he happy? Was he sad? Were you supposed to be reacting the same way?

“You’re beautiful…” He says, teary eyes meeting your own.

“So are you.” You respond. It’s only after the words fall from your mouth that you realize what you said and you try to correct yourself, “Handsome! I meant to say you’re handsome! You’re very attractive in a very masculine way, but that’s not to say you don’t express femininity well when you choose to and you look good all the time and-” Amidst your struggle for the correct words, he’d begun to laugh at your own expense. Not how you imagined this meeting to go, you shrink back to your side of the table, “I’ll just stop talking.”

“No! Please, keep talking.” He begs, moving forward to come closer to you. He pulls on your hands that still connect across the table, squeezing to reassure you that he still wanted you to be near him. It felt so nice to have him hold your hands, so nice and comforting, that you must’ve missed the glistening in your own eyes, “Now you’re crying!”

Your hands pull from his to hide your face, “No I’m not, it’s just raining inside!”

As you try to wipe away your tears, you hear the voice of Jimin call over the speakers just off to the side of the table, “You’re not supposed to make the fans cry!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Namjoon defends. In all fairness, you did make him cry first, so this was probably fair.

Hoseok claps his hands together, his voice just subtly coming through the speakers as well, “This is so sweet! We’re all witnessing two soulmates meet for the first time!”

“It’s like a movie, but without the flower petals.” Taehyung adds, having a mic of his own on his side as well.

“Miss.” Another staff member appears next to you, only this time they’re offering a hand and a smile, “Could I have you come with me?”

You’re nervous at first, not sure if going with this staff member would be the best idea. However, the presence of Namjoon’s hand on your own once more draws your attention to his heartwarming smile, “It’s okay.”

You nod and stand, allowing the staff to lead you behind the table and into the hallway to a waiting area. They have you sit on the couch, assuring you that Namjoon and the others would be there to see you soon. This at least gave you a moment to collect your thoughts and come to the realization that you really just met your soulmate after so much hard work to get there. You’d thought plenty of times that you’d regret trying to meet him this way, but now you couldn’t be more elated that you actually got to speak to him and hold his hands. You made him cry - what were hopefully - tears of joy! Even as their manager sits down to make small talk with you while you wait for the end of the fanmeet, you can’t help but to feel as if you’re on cloud 9.

It’s not too long until you hear that the meeting has come to an end, making your heart rate speed up. Once again, you take a deep breath in and let it out, preparing yourself to face Namjoon again. Only when he does come in, you both just stare at one another. Him from the doorway with his members waiting behind him and you from your spot on the couch. You’d already met, you’d already held hands, but this...he was right there.

“Well, are you going to talk to her or just look at her?” Jin asks, a mischievous smirk gracing his features as he stares at the younger.

It would seem that the small jab at the leader was all he needed to push himself forward, legs moving swiftly across the room in long strides just so he can reach you. You stand, intending to meet him halfway, but he’s already pulling you into a much needed embrace before you even get the chance. His arms wrap over your shoulders, caging you close to his chest as he leans down to rest his head on your own. He smells so nice, and his embrace is so warm, they almost distract you from the wetness you feel on top of your head.

“Namjoon…?” You ask, worried you might make him cry more by asking.

The man himself pulls back, quickly moving to wipe his tears as if he hadn’t already cried in front of you already, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s cute.” You assure him. You look down, feeling a bit embarrassed yourself, “Much cuter than showing up to your fansign with a bunch of your things.”

“How long have you known?” He asks.

“2 long and painful years.” You sigh. Thinking back on everything you’ve done since discovering who and where he was, you can’t help but be thankful it worked out this time around, “I’ve tried coming to a fan sign 3 times before this.”

“Couldn’t win a ticket?” Jeongguk asks from the side, a bottle of water in his hands.

Your sheepish smile turns into a strained one, “Yeah...we’ll go with that.”

Yoongi seems to pick up on your change in attitude, “Don’t tell me…”

“No wonder the universe put them together, they’re a match made in heaven!” Jin laughs, the sound being much more entertaining in person. The other members of BTS continue to talk amongst themselves, discussing the scene before them as well as how exciting the day had been. But Namjoon, instead, focuses all of his attention on you.

“Please tell me you’re free for the rest of the day.”

For once, you were more than happy to use your holiday time, “I’m free for the rest of the weekend.”

“Good.” He says, giving you another look at his beautiful, dimpled smile.

“Good...”

* * *

“So, what’s in the box?”

380 notes · View notes

captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years ago

Text

Psychosomatic- Prompt Fill

Soooo I forgot to fully read the prompt, so this isn’t season 2. Sorry! Have a bit of a follow up to my broken ribs fic!

cw nausea, vomiting (brief mentions), headaches, migraines, injury, anxiety, fever, oh and Jon is kind of gaslighting himself a little

And I have finished all my bingo prompts, but I plan on choosing another prompt list soon, so keep an eye out if you wanna make some requests! And the rest of the bingo fics will be out soon (I tend to post on Wednesdays, but I make no promises for consistency). Thanks again to @celosiaa for the wonderful bingo card!

“Jon? Are you sure about this?”

That’s Martin talking to him. He ought to pay attention.

Jon wonders if there is a correct answer to the question. There probably is, if he can think through the headache.

Think.

He is at Martin’s flat, has been for about a week.

Martin is finally going to let him back to work. Partly because he is starting to heal, and even so there isn’t much you can do for broken ribs. Partly because Jon needs to save the world, and he has been doing his all the convince Martin of this. There is also that terrifying thing about needing Statements now. Not that he really wants to share that with Martin. Because Martin is the only one who actually cares anymore and he could ruin it if Martin were to… He doesn’t know. His chest is tight. Partly from the pain, partly from anxiety.

Stress, that’s why he feels like shit.

Stress. All in his head.

Christ he has to answer before Martin gets concerned.

“Yes. I’m fine, Martin. You can stop fussing.” Does that sound like him? How brusque is he normally? Does this fall under the typical Jon being an arse (which… he feels very badly about but at this point what does he even say? They had a few moments …but he never knows what to say now or he’s in too much pain or under too much stress to really be a good conversationalist, and being rude is better than …no it isn’t. He’s just afraid of letting Martin get too close?).

Christ his head is pounding, and it isn’t like he’s done anything.

Just the stress.

Probably.

Stress or statements.

He’s fine.

“It’s just… are you sure? You look a bit peaky. And you do need to be gentle with your ribs so they heal, so you don’t, you know puncture a lung and die or something.”

Jon dodges Martin trying to feel his forehead and hisses with pain. He batts Martin’s hand away instead, pressing his other to his rib cadge.

If he’s running a fever… It’s probably just the pain. He’s been in a lot of pain. Ribs and now this headache, witch, could easily become a migraine.

He wonders if he has Excedrin in his office, or hidden in the stacks with what’s left of his belongings.

“I’m fine. Just… worried about the Unknowing. I’m trying to save the world, but had to take some time off… a bit hard to relax with that over my head. You’re no stranger to anxiety, I’m sure you know the feeling.” Shit. Is that too personal? Was the insensitive? It’s a bit difficult to ignore, even for Jon, that Martin struggles with anxiety. He’s seen the prescriptions by the bed, and around the Archives when Martin was living there. He wasn’t really invading. Not like he had back…. No. It’s fine. He’s fine. No the anxiety certainly isn’t twisting in his core now, sloshing his insides. Just the stress. It’s fine.

Martin sighs. “Yeah. Yeah… I do. And it isn’t going to get better if we sit around here, is it? But, you’ll let me know if working doesn’t make you feel better, yeah? You still need to take it easy. You aren’t better yet.”

Jon purses his lips. Not sure how to answer without outright lying. “I’ll do my best? It’s all a bit muddled? Ribs hurt so it’s hard to sleep. Stress makes it harder to sleep. Stress and not sleeping lead to a headache. Which won’t get better until I sleep, which I can’t do until I can make some progress at work so we all don’t literally die. Christ, I’m sorry. Let’s just go. I’ll have a lie down after I read a Statement and do a bit of research, how about? I… appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I’m imposing and probably putting you in danger, and I’m not the easiest person to live with…”

“It’s no trouble. It’s… nice having someone else here. I’m glad you let me look after you.”

“Not really like I had much of a choice, but I’ve had worse kidnappings.”

Martin makes a face.

Jon worries he’s gone too far with a joke that isn’t all that funny. “Sorry.”

“Let’s just go. Sooner we leave the sooner I can get you back here and resting. Yes Jon, I am bringing you back here if you’ll let me. It’s actually less stressful when I know where you are so I can be sure you haven’t been kidnapped again.”

Jon can’t really argue with that.

The tube may have been a mistake.

It’s crowded, and there aren’t any open seats, and no one seems to care that he’s carrying a cane. And while he could probably ask… he won’t. Martin tries to shield him from the worst of the crown, but it’s the lighting. Scraping at the backs of his eyes, threatening him with a migraine. It’s the jolting of the train between stops where he stumbles because he can’t lift his free hand high enough to grab one of the grips without it tugging painfully on his ribs. Martin tries to hold him steady, but it isn’t enough. And to make it worse, Jon is certain that every eye is on him. He’s small but conspicuous. Messy hair, cane, scars, limp.

Is it just his paranoia? Is it the eye? Is he just tired? He doesn’t know, but it makes him want to curl up as tightly as he can, ribs be damned, and get out of sight. It makes him feel sick.

Martin tuts gently when Jon almost whimpers at the next judder of the train. “Should have called a cab.”

Jon shakes his head. “I’d rather be jostled than carsick.”

Martin glances at him in concern. Probably assessing the likelihood of Jon getting sick in the carriage.

Jon wishes that weren’t a valid concern.

He’s fine.

It’s the headache. It’s the stress. He’ll read a Statement, he’ll do some research, he’ll take a nap if he needs to, but he should be feeling better by then.

Martin checks on him every half hour or so. It’s… distracting.

And concerning.

The Statement didn’t help. He still feels dizzy and sick, and the headache has only gotten worse. He wants to turn off the lights, but sitting in one position, trying not to vomit from the pain has made his ribs stiff. Stiff to the point that he isn’t sure he can move.

He tries to do research, but the words start swimming on the page. Shit. Is this even stress? Is he just having a shitty day? Is he sick? He can’t afford to be sick. If he has to recover from an illness that puts him even farther behind. No. It’s just stress. Stress migraine.

Probably.

The Statement didn’t help. Not enough anyhow.

He doesn’t want Martin to see just how badly off he is. Can’t bear the disappointed look, the worrying. Martin has worried enough. Jon just wants to hide. To be miserable in peace, just like has has done for years. But he doesn’t have flat now. He has a few clothes and a toothbrush at Martin’s flat now. He has the same at Georgie’s. And he has a shelf with some blankets and a few boxes of things from his flat in the stacks. Far enough back, and semi covered by a tarp that he’s not yet been discovered there.

He should go there, if he can. Curl up in his nest of blankets and pillows, see if he can find some Excedrin, and hope that helps.

He should eat something before the meds, but he’s nearly overcome with nausea when he leavers himself to standing. Has to detour to expel what little Martin made him eat that morning. He limps to his shelf. And nearly cries when he has to try to get himself on in without hurting his ribs more.

Sneaking off before Martin can notice just how sorry a state he is in.

He manages to sleep. Deeply. Painkillers helping enough that he can pass out for a couple hours. Probably. His head still hurts too much to look at his phone. Enough that he shouldn’t try moving, but he’s certain Martin must be out of his mind with worry. But…

But he can’t move. His ribs hurt too much. And trying to sit up makes him nauseous enough to wonder if he has anything to be ill into should the need arise.

He wants to sleep more. He wants to sleep long enough to find the Tim of last year to find him. He misses his friend. He wants the old TIm. He wants the old him. He wants to be dragged upright at his Research desk by Tim and for Tim to demand to know why he’s at work in such a sorry state.

He wants Martin to find him.

He wants Sasha to.

(He wants his mother to).

He feels too poorly to pull the blanket up, so he shivers, whimpering a little when that jostles his ribs, jostles his migraine.

He drifts. Too nauseous, too achey to really sleep.

He almost doesn’t hear Martin searching for him. Sounding tired and worried. Calling his name, and presumably checking all the rows, all the shelves for somewhere Jon might have tucked himself.

Jon wants to call back, but the minimal noise Martin is making hurts too much to think about responding. He’ll find him soon enough. Probably. Jon isn’t feeling well enough to disguise his hideaway. Even if that makes him feel dreadfully exposed. (Vulnerable to Daisy and Elias and even Melanie and Tim on their more aggressive days).

He drifts more, as Martin draws closer.

Jon wakes properly to Martin feeling his forehead. Brushing a few stray tears away. Tutting at the fever Jon presumes he is running. “Oh Jon, why didn’t you say something? I’ve been so worried. Burning up, we ought to get you home.”

Jon is ashamed to say he whimpers at the thought of moving. “Hurts.” It’s slurred and pathetic.

Martin shushes him gently. “Is it alright if I lift you?”

“Careful.”

“I will be,” Martin promises.

And he is.

It still hurts.

And the cab ride makes him sick.

But then it’s over and he’s back in Martin’s bed, and he can’t make himself worry about anything anymore.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jonmartin #martin blackwood #fanficiton #cw nausea #cw vomiting #cw injury #cw fever #cw anxiety #fic #my fic #my writing #my words #art #my art

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sneezyminniejo · 3 years ago

Text

I’m Not Going Blind

Namjoon is a photic sneezer, has been his entire life. It was very normal for him to sneeze once or twice in the morning when he turns his lights on and occasionally throughout the day if any bright lights hit his eyes.

Eventually Namjoon got curious about why he would suddenly sneeze when exposed to light, so he decided to do some research. He had learned that the common term for it was the photic sneeze reflex and snorted when he found out the scientific term was autosomal dominant compelling helio-ophthalmic outburst syndrome or ACHOO Syndrome for short. He was also extremely glad that he was fluent in English as the majority of the articles he had found were in said language.

At some point during his research, BTS' manager called him saying that something urgent had come up and he needed to come to the company building right away. Because it was simple research that he could easily get back to later, Namjoon didn't bother exiting out of the web browser and just let his computer fall asleep after he left.

Around thirty minutes after Namjoon had left, Jungkook had entered the room wanting to use Namjoon's computer because it had some higher tech editing software than what was on his own computer. He woke the computer up and was a little confused at the page he was looking at. It was some sort of scientific or medical website in English and the only word he was able to confidently make out was 'syndrome'.

Jungkook knew that he probably shouldn't be snooping into whatever Namjoon was looking up, but curiosity got the best of him. He opened up papago and had it scan the website for a translation. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he read that it affected the eyes, bright lights can easily worsen the disorder, and one of the symptoms is sneezing. Jungkook's hyung had some rare incurable and untreatable disorder and he hadn't bothered to tell anyone. Jungkook decided he would do what he could to help his hyung out. He also decided to let the others know their leader was sick so they could all help take the load off their stressed leader.

Knowing that all of his hyungs except for Namjoon were at the dorm, Jungkook was quick to call a family meeting. They were quick to gather, but were very confused when they saw that Jungkook called the meeting and their leader was absent. "Kook, why did you call a meeting and where is Joon?" Seokjin asked. "Manager-nim called Joon for an urgent meeting." Replied Yoongi. All eyes went back to focus on the maknae. "Actually I called this meeting to talk about Namjoon-hyung. I think he's sick."

Hoseok was the first to respond. "You sure about that Kookah? I haven't noticed anything different about him that would suggest he caught a bug of some sort." Everyone muttered in agreement with Hoseok.

Jungkook looked down at his lap as he began to explain. "I went to use Joon-hyung's computer because he has better editing software than me, and he was last reading some scientific medical journal thing that was about a rare syndrome." Jungkook paused before continuing. "I got curious because he has no reason to be looking up rare medical disorders and I put it through papago to translate. It's a condition that affects the eyes, is worsened by bright lights, and one of the symptoms is sneezing. Look at the symptoms list, he fits nearly all of it" Jungkook began crying at this point as he showed them the symptoms list. "It specifically affects the red blood cells in and around the eyes. The article said something about a hemolytic response."

Jungkook waited for a response from his hyungs, but was met with silence. After another moment, he could hear one of the members curse. "Shit, that's not good Kookah. Why do you think he kept it from us?" Jimin asked worriedly. "Maybe he's afraid we'll make him step down as leader or something." Responded Taehyung. The six men spent a couple moments looking at each other before all nodding in agreement. They then spent the next several minutes discussing how to take some of the stress off their leader so his condition will hopefully not worsen as quickly.

Namjoon arrived at the dorm about an hour later. The meeting with management hadn’t been fun as he had been informed that one of the janitorial staff had been caught snooping in his studio and they needed him to move to a new one that had a better and more intricate security lock. Just as he was opening the door, the sun reflected off something that was near the door and went directly into his eye. “Heh-itshh, hi-tscciew.” He ended up kind of stumbling his way into the dorm. He muttered a couple of curses under his breath as he tried to maintain his balance. The other six heard Namjoon stumbling about after sneezing which seemed to only reinforce Jungkook’s suspicions.

At some point during the trek back to the dorm, Namjoon's contacts had started to bug him, so the first thing he did after getting into the dorm was head to his room to take out his lenses and grab his glasses. Once he was more comfortable, he decided to join the others in the living room only to be met with questioning looks.

"So how was the meeting?" Hoseok asked. Namjoon sighed as he talked about how a staff member was caught sneaking around his studio, so he's getting a new one.

Jimin was the next one to speak. "Hyung, did you get new glasses? I don't think I've seen you wear those before." Namjoon was quick to respond. "Yes I did. Last month. My prescription got worse enough that my old ones were causing too much eye strain and headaches." He paused for a moment. "Are you guys hungry? For lunch I was thinking of mak-" before Noon could finish his sentence, Seokjin cut in. "Don't worry about making food. I've got it." Seokjin got up and went to the kitchen to get started on lunch.

Namjoon didn't complain about Seokjin taking over lunch prep even though it was his turn to make lunch. The rest of the day was filled with Namjoon doing his usual things, but the other six were secretly doting on him, now convinced that the leader had some kind of illness.

The following day, all of the members had a photoshoot, and Seokjin made sure that Namjoon wore sunglasses when leaving the building. However, it had not occurred to them that camera flashes might be bright enough to cause symptoms of whatever was ailing their leader.

It only took a couple flashes before Namjoon doubled over. "Hek-tschh, hih-tiew." After the double sneeze, Namjoon shook his head as of trying to clear the irritation out of the way. The motion did not go unnoticed by the other members.

"Are you feeling okay hyung, those didn't sound particularly good?" Taehyung asked with minor concern etched into his voice. "I'm fine Taehyung-ah. It was just a couple of sneezes, nothing to worry about." However the others were worried, their profession was apparently aggravating the leader's condition, so Yoongi decided to hold a family meeting when they got home.

Yoongi told everyone about the family meeting on the car ride home. Namjoon was thoroughly confused as everyone but him seemed to know what was going on. They all gathered on the couch and gave each other expectant looks. Eventually Jungkook broke the silence.

"Namjoon-hyung, we know you're sick and hiding it from us." Namjoon was shocked at the statement and it took a moment to formulate a response.

"I'm not sick. I'm perfectly healthy. What makes any of you think I'm sick?"

Yoongi decided to answer this question, "Jungkook saw the research you were doing yesterday on some rare disorder that causes blindness or something, and told us that you had the symptoms listed in the article."

Namjoon began laughing in response to what he was told, and the others looked a bit hurt that he wasn't taking his illness seriously. "Seriously guys I'm fine. I'm not going blind. It's true that I was looking up a kind of rare disorder that I have but it's nothing serious." The others stared at him in blank confusion. "Did you use papago to translate the article?" Jungkook nodded. Namjoon chuckled a little and decided to continue explaining.

"I was looking up something called the photic sneeze reflex. All it means is that I sneeze when I'm suddenly exposed to bright lights." Hoseok sighed a bit exasperatedly before jumping up from the couch.

"Well now that we know that you're not sick and we got worried for nothing, I vote we make popcorn and have a movie night." Everyone nodded in agreement, so Jimin went to heat up the popcorn.

A few minutes later the seven members were huddled up in the living room gearing up for a mini movie marathon.

#BTS #sickfic #sneeze

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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felassan · 3 years ago

Text

Gamers For Groceries 2 event

A Twitch stream event from a few days ago. It can currently be re-watched here (it was fun & interesting, so I do recommend to check it out direct). This post contains some notes on things of particular interest & relevant timestamps, in case this is useful to anyone (for example bc of accessibility reasons).

First up is the All About Animating panel, a series of mini-interviews with game devs (animators) asking what they do, how they got there, and advice for anyone interested in getting into the industry. Some or all of the devs that were interviewed are currently working on DA4. They talked a bit about their day-to-day work and a lot about the craft of game dev animation in general. This segment runs from timestamp ~38 mins 40 secs to 1:07:50. Some notes:

[sounded like DA4] Right now the creature team are working on different creatures in a way which involves going through a lot of mocap data

At BioWare they have a pretty big technical animation team, to support their animators, so each tech animator has a different specialty. Tech anim involves animation support, character art support, and rigging the characters so that the animators can pose them

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] One of the featured animators’ area of specialty at the moment is faces and hair (building the control structure for face animations). First they had to decide how the face rig and its control structure would work. This involves a lot of performance capture of live actors for things like cinematics and gameplay animation, therefore the rigs for bodies and faces have to be able to accurately capture the full range of expressions and emotions that the actor is portraying. Right now the stage that this dev is working on most is setting up the heads that they’re getting through the pipeline from character art e.g. making adjustments based on feedback from the cinematics team. “Polish - just trying to get realism”

Hair tech has come quite a long way in the last few years [in the industry]

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] Hair is very complex to get right. “In the past most games have used card-based hair, which is basically like sheets of polygons with a texture on it that looks like hair, through layers of transparency. But real hair is strand-based, digital strands, so we’re starting to look into that kind of tech - try to get more realistic, more beautiful hair, but there’s always a performance cost to hair. Layers of transparent things are always an expense, they need to balance like, it looks good and moves well, but it doesn’t make your computer or console chug. [...] I guess we’re in the prototype stage but we’ve almost got a set pipeline. It’s always fun to experiment”

In Mass Effect 2 or 3, Miranda’s hair was as expensive as a whole character (!)

[on balancing hair costs/performance, general] It depends on things like character importance and how many characters are on-screen at the time. When you’re in gameplay fighting a bunch of monsters you’re not going to be giving full beautiful hair to all the characters and the monsters, as it will cost too much. (Having a helmet on is a convenient way to get rid of hair.) But if it’s a cinematic scene, with 2 characters talking to each other in a dramatic context, there’s a better budget for nice hair allocated

Some of the hair in Anthem was quite expensive in cinematics. They kept getting bugs from QA saying (for example) that a character’s hair was tripling the performance cost in the scene, so it would go back to character art so they could take away some of the hair cards. “Tough balance, quality versus cost”

“I wish all the characters could have beautiful strand hair”

For p-cap, a lot of the time they don’t want to be too prescriptive in terms of the direction that they’re giving the actors, as the actors know what they’re doing and have a lot of experience, so they give them vague instructions that they then riff off of

[sounded like DA4] They recently did a mocap shoot

[sounded like DA4] There’s a bit more productivity happening now in the pandemic situation; now that the animators are not all going to the capture lab in Vancouver in person for shoots, if it’s not their turn to direct a shot they can instead be working on something else on their computers (multi-tasking). ((Lead DA4 Producer Scylla Costa recently gave a talk at a games festival on the challenges of DA production during the pandemic. In part of this talk he talked about various benefits and drawbacks to the remote-working situation. He also talked about and showed some behind-the-scenes stuff for p-cap and mocap. Notes, images and link here))

[sounded like DA4] Special mocap suits were sent out that they can use with a laptop to go anywhere and shoot motion capture. It’s not as high fidelity as what comes out of the capture lab, but it’s really good for prototyping stuff. Before the pandemic they did some of this (going to a park and shooting some running around)

[sounded like DA4] In one of the shoots they had some actors who were really well-trained in dancing. They were trying to get them to do some combat stuff. This was a bit challenging in the pandemic situation as there’s only so much they can demonstrate/portray as an example to the actors from a distance on camera. “It’s hard to describe what a ‘dodge to attack’ is through the camera to somebody who has no idea what combat looks like in video games”

[not sure if re: DA4 work specifically, another project or a general comment on the craft] The pandemic has really affected performance capture for the face side of things badly, as in order to record, the actor gets dots painted on their face in specific locations by a makeup artist. They can’t do that right now because of social distancing/restrictions, so they haven’t been recording faces at the moment

The more detailed a face, the more joints it has, the more the cost to performance is

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There was also the Writers’ Block panel, featuring DA writers Mary Kirby, Sheryl Chee and Patrick Weekes, and DA editor Karin Weekes. The timestamps for this segment are ~2:37:50 - 3:26:20. Some notes:

PW has never been weirder than when they were writing Cole on DAI

PW thinks that they accidentally wrote part of “Timber” by Kesha into Solas at one point and they were like “Well, okay, I have to stop listening to Kesha”

For Sheryl, after a while Blackwall’s VA always nailed doing his lines. She loved the quality of his voice and so after a while would always hear his voice while she was writing. This really worked out

^ Mary had this with Merrill. As soon as they cast Eve Myles she listened to several hours of her in Torchwood, and then just wrote to the way that she spoke as much as possible

^ PW had this with GDL as Solas and FPJ as Bull. As soon as they heard FPJ’s delivery, they were like “Oh, okay, I have to write some lines differently, because Bull is smarter than I realized”. With GDL they were like “Okay, he’s going to put poetry into anything I say, in the best way possible”. In early drafts of Solas lines there were parts where they [PW] wondered “Is this too melodramatic? Is this too tragically-angstful?” and then they would hear GDL and be like “Oh! [It’s fine] Game on!”

For localization, German words are often quite long so they often have to make sure that everything fits on the GUI

They think scenes like the romance scenes sound prettier in the Italian versions

Behind the curtain in creating the in-world languages: PW: “There are some awesome websites that have every elven word, like ‘Here are the translations and verb tenses and conjugations’ [etc], [...] and usually Mary and I get very sad slightly looking at those pages going like ‘Does that mean that we have to stick to that?’ [...] The rule is, if I’ve looked at the Wiki and the words, and I go ‘Here’s the correct grammatical way to do it’, and if that turns out to be too long or too many disconnected syllables and it just looks bad or sounds bad, then we shorten it to something simpler, because the key is we want to give the flavor of a foreign language, but we don’t have the world-building budget and capacity to make something that is going to be dictionary-real [in a way that] someone could go through and translate all the background things written on the old temple walls”. Part of the reason for this is the consideration for VAs, who already have to act while bearing lots of things in mind, like the cues in the script for each line

Mary: “For building a language, the first things that I started with for qunlat, elven and dwarven, was what words do we need to use the most? Greetings, farewells, words for friend and enemy, basic things that will come up easily in conversation. After that it’s ‘How difficult is this for other writers to use?’ Can they just pick it off the Wiki? Do they need just one word? Do they need to write whole sentences, and how does that work? Qunlat has almost no grammar to it because asking anyone to learn how to use Qunari grammar and conjugate verbs in a pretend language is impossible, and then once you’ve done that a human being has to be able to read it, while not knowing what any of it means”

PW: “One thing that I was really impressed with with Mary in particular doing, Mary was one of the big lore people across the entire DA series; I can look at a word and go like, ‘That has two A’s in a row, that’s definitely a Qunari word. That word is kind of long and maybe has some apostrophes and has a couple of flowy vowel sounds, that’s probably elven’, I think that’s what’s important. You want players to be able to look at a word, players want to feel smart, [like] ‘Oh I don’t know what that means but I totally know that’s a word from the Qunari people!’”. Mary: “Every language has its own set of phonemes, the sounds that they make, and the sort of word structure and spelling so that it gives a flavor to that language. Hopefully that is always chosen to be pronounceable, because again, very important that the words can be said by human beings :D”

Sheryl: “One of the fun things to do is to make up swear words in the fake languages [...] Recently Brianne wanted a word, I don’t know if she managed to find one”

The origin of bosh’tet in ME: it’s just saying “bastard” and slurring it

PW: “I feel like there are times when past writers kind of leave traps for future writers, where past writers will go ‘Okay, I’m going to write this detailed phrase in a codex entry but don’t worry, it doesn’t matter if it can never be said aloud, because it’ll never have to be voiced!’ and then, next game, guess what guys! Look what you have to make someone [a VA] say! And you’re like [facepalm], c’mon!”

Karin: “Now, four games in, we have pages and pages of all these examples, and I wanna say this, well that’s how we said something before, well that’s ridiculous, I don’t wanna say that, but now we’ve said it and it’s out there, so it’s like, how do we, y’know, how do we evolve, and sometimes we just go ‘Screw it! Languages are living languages! We’ll just say it like this now!’”

PW's favorite is the sarcastic Mythal’enaste, “Because it’s the sarcastic Mythal's blessing that basically means you’re getting screwed over somehow. I love it because Mythal nasty! Whoever wrote that clearly never thought that someone would have to say this out loud”

Sheryl wrote Bull’s joke icicles line. She also wrote Isabela’s big boats line - Jennifer took it out but then DG was like “No it has to come back”

They have a pun test, they get a few of them and have to allot them wisely so as not to oversaturate on the puns. “Is this good/bad enough to be one of the times that we pull the trigger? We did have one of those recently, I obviously can’t talk about it, but it was pronounced Okay to go ahead”

The ‘baby-est’ writer is Brianne, who’s been there 8 years

It makes PW sad that the players never get to see the writers’ temp-text [placeholder text when portions are a WIP]. “People have the best temp-text". Mary: “The number of conversations that I’ve temped in like ‘WELL. I hope nothing BAD happens HERE’”

Q. If you could bring in anybody from outside of gamedev, who would you like to work with and do a writer’s session with? PW: “I will say romance novelist Nora Roberts, she is really smart and also she knows how to write inside a genre, and do wonders within it. Her structure is so good. If you pick up one of her books, you know here’s when this is gonna happen, here’s when they’re gonna meet, here’s when this first moment will happen. We’re all experienced and I feel pretty good about that but I really like all of the things she does that way, and also I am a sucker for romance so I would love to bring a romance novelist in and just have them look at our scenes and go ‘Okay here, no, they should pull the tie so that the article of clothing comes open, we need a sense of how warm the skin is here’ - something like that. I’d wanna see what they could do with that”

“Luke writes the best worst lines”

“I’m always impressed with Mary getting away with lines. There are lines that I look at like, wow, you buried that one. [...] The only players who get that line, I feel like they earned it if they went that far into it. [...] And then Varric or Merrill says a ridiculous line in a one-time throwaway”

Karin: “The group dynamic, you’ll see conversations or snippets of a lunch chat or a thing we’ve been joking about and you’ll see it get pulled in, and how all of you [the writers] are able to take a normal kind of thing - as normal as we get as a group anyway - and then turn it into a moment, and use it to further the plot or use it to further a character. It’s just the cleverest thing and it happens in so many different ways. [...] The little snippet of life, then how you crafted it into this very cool thing”

Quartermaster Threnn was written by PW in half a day. “When I was writing Threnn, ‘Okay, this is a good-hearted [person], I was doing a little bit of Steel Magnolias, southern, no-nonsense, but like, blue collar Steel Magnolias’. This is someone accustomed to the ways of the world so she’s going to call a spade a spade. If you come up to her and you’re an elf she doesn’t recognize you and says ‘Buckets are over there’ because she thinks you’re there to clean, [but] ‘Anyone calls you a knife-ear you come to me I’ll take care of it’. It’s problematic but she’s trying - the good-hearted person rooted for the wrong group on every occasion. She was a proud Loghain supporter, she gets really exited if he comes to Skyhold. That was a fun character for me to write because I had a viewpoint in my mind. I remember someone was like ‘Threnn is really important to me’. And you have to honor that, cause you’re like ‘Cool, it means so much to me that this connected with some part of you’”

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Also of interest was the Mass Affection panel, in which BioWare devs looked back in over a decade of history to remaster a classic. It featured devs who worked on MELE. The timestamps for this segment are ~3:36:09 - 4:24:37. Some notes:

When the pandemic hit the MELE team were in a relatively awkward spot. They were really entering into what they consider full production and were on-boarding a bunch of teams, as well as training and on-boarding third-party external partner specialized teams worldwide. When the pandemic hit, BioWare and EA were super on top of it. They were tracking it weeks beforehand, getting everyone their computers ready, and getting everything encrypted. When the middle of March 2020 hit they were home rightaway. EA were nothing but supportive throughout the entire thing. They got money every quarter for stuff. It functionally ‘hit’ at 4-6 different times for them as the pandemic occurred in different places throughout the world at different times depending on each country’s response plan (and their external partners were in different countries). “So it was one of those things where it was just like, every day we’d come in like can we still work with this company anymore? Do we need to find someone else? Do we need to pull people in off the other projects at BioWare to fill gaps here and there?”

There was a bug on Virmire at the part when you’re coming into the STG camp. If the Mako had its new boosters on and you came hurtling in really fast, it cut to the cutscene, but the Mako hit a jump and when Ash was like “What do we do now?” the Mako ended up literally flying around in the background sideways and then crashing into the camp

Another bug: when they were re-tuning the guns, the physics force on some of the guns with Hammerhead rounds was so high that when you were fighting some of the Thorian Creepers, you could ragdoll them so hard that you could basically embed them in the roof. They’d be moving so fast that they’d penetrate all the walls with their legs dangling out. It was so easy to do and you could do it to everybody. You could launch a geth halfway across an Uncharted World

Another bug: with Shepard’s casual appearance in ME3, if you didn’t have it set up perfectly correctly it would default to Grunt for some reason. You’d be walking around as Grunt, going on dates as Grunt, and your face would be all scrunched up because it was all mapped to human bones still, so it was just, like, Nightmare Fuel of Grunt

Another bug: in ME2 on Illium when trying to recruit Samara, the Asari enemies just would not stop screaming - regardless of whether they were hit or not, it was endless screaming. Later one of the devs got an audio file of the scream, endless and looped, and now one of the devs has it on their phone and uses it for their morning alarm tone

“Shepard would come up to characters and they’d just be screaming”

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There was also the Programming Variables panel, talking about what hurdles game programmers face. Some [or all?] of the devs that were part of this panel are currently working on DA4. They talked a bit about their day-to-day work and about the craft of game dev programming in general. The timestamps for this segment are ~ 4:24:46 - 5:06:02.

[source]

[insights/notes from Gamers For Groceries 1]

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