#and are often going through an extremely difficult part of their lives and need some positive attention

[yardsards]

Sorry that happened to you. (the rock thing) zoomers can truly be gross awful people

sorry it happened to me??? bruh it was fucking *hilarious* and made me laugh really hard and brightened my day. kids can be absolute delights and i'm glad to have them in my community

[prettyboykatsuki]

exception(al) | sunday hsr

𖤓 tags ; afab + gn!reader, established relationship, established d/s dynamic (implied to be 24/7), extremely submissive!reader, soft dom!sunday, shoe humping, oral (m!recieving), cock worship, deep throating, lots of praise / pet names, thumb sucking, cum swallowing 18+

𖤓 wc ; 2.2k

𖤓 a/n ; if you care abt me you won't say a word about this post. okay. alright. takes place in this universe, but not required reading.

𖤓 synopsis ; he'd give you anything you ask for. his one love. his only exception.

If Sunday could use one word to describe you, he would pick the plainest option: obedient.

You're other things. Loyal, desperate, beautiful, adoring. There are other words more well-fitted to your character and better words to describe the way you look through his lens. Ethereal. Charming. Provocative

But above all else, if Sunday had to sum up all of your parts he'd choose to put your obedience on the pedestal it deserves to stand on.

Obedience like yours can't be bought with fear, can't even be bought with manipulation. You have to get lucky to find someone so perfectly, unflinchingly obedient in the same way you are.

The leash Sunday keeps you on, intentionally tight, never appears that way on your throat.

That is to say: you bear the suffocation of Sunday's affection so well, a lesser person would be at risk for taking you for granted.

Not Sunday. Never him, of course. No one knows better how much you deserved to be cherished then him. That's how the cycle between you always goes. You live at his beck and call— his mercy. You're obedient with his whims and patient with his insecurities. Eventually, after some time passes, he'll praise and reward your efforts.

(The truth is, Sunday is always one difficult day away from spoiling you. Showering you in his affection after the thread-bare strands of his patience snap is his idea of letting go. There's few things more precious than how doe-eyed you get when he does.

But, a good owner knows to raise loyal pets - you must let them work towards rewards. He refrains for your sake. Always for your sake.)

Sunday always asks you what you want as a reward. Your requests are usually innocuous. Prey-like innocence in your eyes as you fiddle with the ends of his coat and ask for things like a date together or a bath or matching rings.

Sunday sometimes wants to tell you that's not the sort of thing you really need to beg him for. Sunday wants to tell you everything in his order is also yours.

He is yours, just like you're his. Mind, body, soul—devoured heart and all.

(Later, when Aeons abandon Sunday, he will find contentment in the fact you still belong to him. Even falling through Dreams or chained to hell. Still his. )

He doubts he ever will. He will continue along with rewarding you ask. Anything you want, you can earn.

It's rare you ask him for anything sexual so overtly. You do often beg to touch him and it's rare that Sunday lets you. He doesn't like to indulge too often, lest he lose the control that binds him so tightly.

Your latest request is half surprising. The desire to pleasure him being predictable and your bashful request to rub yourself against the toe of his dress shoes being the surprise.

He could tell at the time that it took all of your courage to ask. Clenched fists at the knees, gaze cast down instead of looking into his eyes, fidgety and uncertain.

It's an easy desire to fulfill and Sunday is, by all means, a loving master. If you want it, he'll will it by any means.

"Are you sure this is what you want, my heart?"

The affection bleeds into his voice as he cast his gaze at you. Bent down on your knees, naked from the neck down with the exception of a heather-blue collar with golden embellishments. You flicker your eyes up to him after he speaks to you, but don't talk.

"You may speak," He hums. He places a hand on your head, reaching down to pet your cheek and scratch under your chin. You preen under the silent doting. "It's your reward today, remember?"

"It's important to mind the rules no matter what."

He thinks about bending down and kissing you with a hand on your throat but keeps his composure. Instead, he pats your head and offers a smile. "That's right. Very clever, my dove."

You're elated just hearing it, staring at him. Pure need paints your expression, eyes wet as you squirm naked underneath him. He meets your look patiently, expectantly.

"Use your words."

"My reward," You swallow thickly. "Is it okay if I have?"

"Of course," He appeases your anxiety with a hand cupping your chin, thumb running your lower lip. "Do as you please."

You always wear your heart on your sleeve but it's times like this he finds it most impactful. Excitement radiates off of you in waves, shaky hands fumbling with his slacks. Your fingers are shaking as you unzip them slowly. Each step you take to get him undressed, you look up at him and wait for him to nod. Always obedient.

You get him partially undressed, each step slow - before you permit yourself to pull the rest of his clothes down. His cock springs free from fabric confines as you tuck the band underneath it. He hitches a breath trying not to lose his composure.

"You're hard," You observe in awe. He laughs breathlessly.

"Of course," He tells you staring down at where his cock cast shadow over your face. "It's you, after all."

The praise makes you wide-eyed. You mutter some kind of thank you that he smiles at gently. He can't help but be entertained by how you assess him. You've seen it before, a few times - yet you're awestruck. Every movement is tentative despite all of his encouragement. You mostly stare at it.

"It's alright. Take what you want." Sunday tells you, like it's some sort of gift. You treat it as such.

He feels his stomach tighten as soon as your hands fist the shaft of his cock. You frown a little. "It's really okay?"

"Yes," He hums, suddenly feeling aware of every nerve in his body. Spurred by his approval, Sunday merely watches you. He's fascinated, in his own right.

You're shaking with want by the time you move to do anything.

You stick your tongue out of your mouth tentatively, eyes transfixed on the tip so eagerly it makes his chest feel tight. Sunday is more familiar than most with desperation, but yours he knows like the back of his hand.

And Aeons, don't you look so desperate? The warm wet slide of your tongue is messy as you run it from base to tip, spitting gathered saliva on the tip with each go. It's clumsy, too desperate to count as a kitten lick and too practiced to count as virginal. It falls somewhere in between, like watching desire mix with your perfectionism.

He adjusts himself slightly. He tugs on the leash in your hand to pull your closer until you're wrapped around his leg, cock pressed against your cheek as he pushes you down by the shoulder. You squeak suddenly at the sensation, too enraptured with his cock to remember the other half of your request.

"I won't help you," He hums, teases - something he rarely does. You nod, not expecting it. You never are and it endears him.

There's parts of him that couldn't understand that this is what you wanted. You begged him for it but it felt unfathomable before now.

Your longing for his cock down your throat, in your mouth is so obvious it makes him waver. It's not something he gets used to. You slide your tongue all over his cock, drool giving your skin shine as you wet it over and over not even taking it in your mouth. Just spitting and licking like you're trying to remember every inch with your mouth and burn it into your memory.

Blissed out with your eyes nearly lidded shut, he can feel you rut your soft cunt over the point of his dress shoes over and over all the while.

It's interesting to affirm all the ways you feel pleasure. Sunday knows you let to put something in your mouth. He's fond of the habit - opts for cum soaked gloves or his own tongue to fulfill the urge for you.

This is an extension of your baser desire. Still, still - you do it with remarkable enthusiasm. It would almost feel torturous if you weren't so thorough. You remember points of pleasure on his cock. Along the veins, underneath the glans.

When the arousal starts to floor his system, you dip your tongue messily into the tip - precum staining your saliva with a pale white.

It moves you further along. You open your mouth up all the way, staring as you hollow your cheeks around the shaft of his cock with impressive ease. Fluttering your eyes shut, you hold onto his thigh and ease yourself as far down as you can go.

Your throat is wet and wanting for him. Over eager even with all the patience you try to demonstrate.

A thought passes by him as he watches you do it so expertly. The warm, slick cavern of your mouth accommodates him perfectly. No teeth, just throat and spit and drool. The corners of your lips flood with saliva as you take his cock in, breathing through your nose.

"Have you been practicing? To do this?"

You jolt, suddenly embarrassed. But you don't move to pull yourself off of his cock. Instead you stay for several moments, stretched throat - nose pressed into the thin hair above his cock and breathe him, humping his dress shoes like you're in heat. When you look up, he gets the confirmation he wants.

He's impossible endeared by you.

There's something strange in that it seems you relax after making it down. Heat stricken, swallowing his cock, chasing animalistic pleasure - truly content as your whole body begins breaking out in an aroused shudder. He can feel your chest against his leg, hardened nipples evidence of your arousal. Your wetness shines his shoe till it's reflective.

When you find you can no longer hold it and breathe, you pull back - a filthy slurping noise resulting. The tip sits on your tongue afterwards as you hum. It's lewd and filthy, not something he thought he'd be so interested in.

But it's you, after all.

Sunday admires you. How wrecked and lustful you look. How excited you are from something like this. An extension of your loyalty to him, down to bone.

He'd underestimated you, somehow. His mistake. When you pull off, before you go back down - he hooks his thumb into his cheek. His voice is thick with desire. The arousal is painful in his stomach as it ties in knots, cock twitching at the sight of your spit-soaked face.

"What do you want?"

You look at him confused before something seems to cross your mind. He encourages you. "Tell me,"

"Cum down my throat," You offer, debauched beyond his understanding. "Please."

Fuck. He takes in a breath.

"If it pleases you, dove," He says, then pets you affection as you go to deep throat him again. He decides to praise you. He can't think of anyone who would deny how sincerely you've earned it. "It feels good. You're thoughtful, hm? I'll return the favor ten fold after, like always."

You make a strangled noise as his cock hits the back of your throat again faster. You're sucking hard this time, quicker - your hand massaging his balls as you do. You hold his gaze the entire time even when you gasp for air, nose running. You're still perfect somehow, doe-eyed and innocent to him despite yourself.

"You're beautiful," He tells you and means it more than anything. Means it as you swallow and suck on his cock like it's everything you could ask for, means it as you hump against his shoes and stare up at him with crushing reverence.

Beautiful, perfect, the sweetest thing he's ever felt in his life. His most obedient possession. His from top to bottom, skin and bone and mind and body. Everything in Sundays possession - wholly his.

He pets your cheek as you move back and forth slowly, doing it properly. Bobbing your head back and forth, slow and smooth and deep with each motion until you feel comfortable enough to go rhythmically without gagging in excess.

You suck with such fervor he's inclined to believe you feel more pleasure than he does. Muffled whimpers and whines as you chase your own high. Sloppy at both ends.

Sunday lets himself slip. He moans - moans your name, soft and sweet and watches your whole body go alight at the reaction.

He can feel you cum before he can see it, the wet pulse of it and the sound of your high pitched whine.

It makes you cum, hearing Sunday express that. So he lets go, just for you, like always and watches tears fill the corner of your eyes like it's the happiest you could be.

Obedient thing you are, so tender - sweeter than all things in the world. Sweeter than a a dream. The thought makes his body lurch. His hips thrust this time and you let him with ease, shaking as Sunday lets himself fuck your throat a little harder.

"Gonna cum for you, sweet thing," He says, holding you close as he bottoms out again. He puts a hand on the back of your neck to hold you steady.

Sunday groans, shudders as an orgasm rips through him something irreparable. He cums hard, and you swallow all of it like it's easy despite how far he is down your throat.

He stays like that, catching his breath until he's ready to pull off. A long thick trail of saliva follows, drool dripping down against the hotel room floor as you leave your mouth open to show you swallowed it all.

Your expression morphs into fucked out pleasure, voice hoarse as you smile. "Thank you,"

You're his exception, Sunday thinks. If he's to deviate from structure, order, routine - it'd be only for you. He wipes the spit from your chin as he bends down to kiss your forehead.

"You made me feel good and did exceptionally well," He murmurs, soft and sweet. You melt under the touch, under the praise. "I love you,"

You smile happily. "Me too. I love you,"

"Now get up," He says, stroking your skin. "My turn, hm"

[snowrubies]

Language Barrier

Fem!reader x Twice (mainly Sana)

Genre: Extremely fluffy and comedic

Warnings: none

Synopsis: You speak Korean perfectly, but Twice doesn't know that.

"Again? You need better staff," you say into the phone, exasperated. Your friend works in sound design for various concerts and often calls you when yet another member of the culinary or courtesy staff flakes out or quits without warning. It’s not a particularly difficult job, and the pay is decent. Plus, waiting on celebrities can be amusing—you get to see sides of them most people don’t.

"Well, you live so close, and we both know you’re not exactly swimming in plans, loser," she shoots back playfully.

"Fine, fine. Time, place, and dress code?" you reply, already rifling through your closet for the outfit she convinced you to buy "just in case."

"Same concert hall as last time. Be there at 10 AM for setup. White shirt, black pants. Bring them to change into, so you don’t ruin your good ones. Hair and makeup are your choice, but trust me—you’ll want to look good." There’s a sly undertone in her voice that sets off alarm bells. She’s hiding something.

"As if I ever try to look bad in front of celebrities," you grumble, glancing at your bedside clock. It’s 8:30—barely enough time to get ready, grab a quick lunch, and make it downtown. "Well, at least this time I have an hour. That’s better than last time’s 'get here now' panic."

"I’m learning," she says with faux innocence. Then, softer, "Thanks for doing this. See you soon."

You hang up and spring into action. First, leggings and a basic T-shirt for the commute. You pack your good clothes—crisp white shirt, black pants, and the shoes she always insists are "fancy enough." Hair comes next: rollers for quick curls while you keep your makeup simple. Neutral eyeshadow, a touch of blush, a dab of highlight—just enough to feel put together without going full glam. You're not the one under the spotlight, after all.

Time slips away faster than you expect. By the time your hair is pinned loosely at the crown of your head—not a bun, too stiff—you’ve got only ten minutes left. No time for anything fancy, so you toss hot dogs and mac and cheese in the microwave. The true lunch of champions. It’s not exactly a Michelin-star meal, but you figure you’ll sneak some of the event catering later.

You scarf down what you can grab your phone, keys, and bag, and head out the door.

You saw the signs as you were pulling into the back parking lot of the space. Your friend had conveniently forgotten to tell you just who you'd be waiting on, or even exactly what you'd be doing. She couldn't exactly hide the giant LED billboard with nine beautiful women you definitely more than recognized on it advertising tonight's concert. Even if she could, once inside the backdoor of the venue there was a staggering amount of Korean people and Hangul posted on doors and in hallways that'd give you a clue. You sent her a quick text saying where you were so she could give you today's assignment, and so you could jump down her throat for not telling you you'd be waiting on Twice. Just your favorite girl group ever.

She found you backstage by one of the many different locked rooms. "Hey best frieeend," she drew out in a singsongy way going in for a hug.

You weaved out of her hold, " Oh no. You've lost hug privileges. When exactly were you going to tell me it was Twice?"

"I said you'd want to look nice," she giggled. All part of her master plan.

"You are the worst," you muttered, trying to sound angry despite the giddy energy coursing through you. "What am I even doing? Don’t tell me I’m stuck running drinks or something."

"Relax," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "I may have mentioned you know Korean, so you’ll mostly be on standby in case they need anything. Food, water, minor stuff like that. You’re not serving tables or anything formal. Just be polite, stay professional, and don’t freak out."

"Freak out? Me?" you said with a nervous laugh. "Never. Definitely not having a full-blown internal meltdown right now."

"Good," she smirked, handing you a badge and a quick rundown of the evening. "You’ll do great. Oh, and try not to stare. They’re even prettier in person." With that, she spun on her heel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone to process the fact that you were about to be in the same room as TWICE.

Taking a deep breath, you clipped the badge onto your shirt and adjusted your outfit one last time. Time to get it together. No fangirling. Just act cool, calm, and totally collected. Easy, right?

You refused to just sit and wait twiddling your thumbs until they arrived. You exchanged some pleasantries with the catering people and helped them set up snack trays and water bottles in the green room for Twice. They would be here soon for a sound check. Actual sound check, not the fake two to three-song warm-up open to the VIP fans. After that, they had some time to eat and in general hang around while getting their hair, makeup, and costumes done.

The green room looked cozy but professional, with plush chairs, a makeup station, and a neatly arranged buffet table laden with fruit, finger sandwiches, and those perfectly packaged snacks you always imagined celebrities lived on. The catering staff smiled appreciatively as you adjusted the placement of a tray.

You went to go change into your nicer clothes and tiny black kitten heels. You had just enough time to stash your bag somewhere out of sight before everyone started moving franticly.

The door to the green room creaked open, and in walked TWICE.

Nayeon led the group, her smile lighting up the room as she exchanged a few words with a staff member. Behind her, the rest of the group filed in, chatting amongst themselves in soft Korean. You froze for a moment, clutching a water bottle in your hand, trying to look casual as your heart raced.

“Wow, they really went all out for this,” Dahyun said in Korean, gesturing toward the snack table. ���I don’t think we’ve ever had this much fruit before.”

Chaeyoung smirked. “Dahyun, you’d say that even if it was just an apple and a banana.”

Tzuyu leaned toward Mina, her voice soft and melodic looking at the monitor in the corner. “The stage lighting looks amazing, doesn’t it? It feels so warm.”

Mina nodded, her tone thoughtful. “It’s perfect. I think the fans will love it.”

They began to spread out, scanning the room and chatting in their small groups. You tried to stay focused, pretending to adjust the water bottles while listening intently.

“Excuse me,” a gentle voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to see Sana standing a few feet away, a curious smile on her face. “Uh… water?” she asked in English, her accent charmingly thick as she gestured toward the bottles.

You quickly picked one up and handed it to her, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, here you go,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you,” she said brightly, taking the bottle. “Nice...” She motioned toward the snack table and gave you a small thumbs-up before returning to the group.

Meanwhile, Jeongyeon had wandered toward a catering staff member, her English more deliberate but clear. “This… for us?” she asked, pointing at the trays.

“Yes,” the staff member replied. “It’s all for you. Please help yourselves.”

Jeongyeon nodded, looking impressed. “Very nice. Thank you.”

Nayeon, ever the social butterfly, spotted you lingering by the table. “Hello!” she greeted cheerfully in English, making you jump slightly. “You… work here?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. I’m just helping with the setup today.”

“Ah, good job!” she said with a grin, her Korean accent giving the words a playful lilt. “This… all looks very good.”

“Thank you,” you managed, heat rushing to your cheeks.

As they settled in, their conversations switched fluidly between Korean and broken English, depending on who they were speaking to. Jihyo exchanged a few words with the event coordinator about the schedule, effortlessly mixing both languages.

“Soundcheck… now?” she asked, her English with large pauses but clear.

“Soon,” the coordinator replied. “You have a little time to eat first.”

“Good,” Jihyo said, nodding firmly before turning back to the group to relay the information in Korean.

The room buzzed with warmth and activity, their laughter mixing with the casual chatter of staff members. You couldn’t help but feel awestruck by how approachable they were, even as global superstars. Every interaction, whether in Korean or English, only made them feel more human—and somehow, even more dazzling.

As the group began to relax, you continued tidying up the snack table, doing your best to stay invisible. But you couldn’t help overhearing their conversations—especially the ones you weren’t supposed to understand.

“Did you see her?” Sana murmured to Nayeon in Korean, her voice low but full of curiosity.

“Who?” Nayeon replied, leaning slightly toward her.

“That staff member by the table,” Sana said, nodding subtly in your direction. “They’re really pretty, don’t you think?”

Nayeon glanced at you for a brief moment, her eyes sparkling with amusement before she turned back to Sana. “Oh, I noticed,” she said with a sly smile. “They’re very elegant. It’s rare to see someone like that working backstage.”

Dahyun, catching wind of the conversation, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “What are you two whispering about?”

Nayeon waved her off playfully. “Nothing. Just admiring the staff here. Very organized, very… visually pleasing.”

Chaeyoung raised an eyebrow, overhearing as well. “Wait, are you all talking about them?” she asked, her tone teasing as she subtly gestured toward you. “Yeah, they’re cute. I noticed earlier.”

You kept your head down, pretending to focus on rearranging the water bottles, but your cheeks were burning. Hearing them talk about you like that, assuming you didn’t understand a word, made your heart race.

Mina joined the conversation with a small, approving nod. “I agree. There’s something… calm about them. It’s nice.”

Jihyo laughed softly. “You all sound like you’re picking a favorite contestant on a reality show. Be professional.” But even she glanced your way with a subtle smile, clearly not immune to the group’s observations.

Tzuyu, ever the quiet observer, finally chimed in. “They do seem kind,” she said simply, her voice soft but sincere.

Sana giggled, leaning closer to Dahyun. “Should we talk to them more? Maybe invite them to hang out later?”

“Stop it,” Nayeon said, feigning exasperation. “They’re working! Don’t make it awkward.”

You busied yourself even more, carefully pretending you had no idea what was being said, but every word made your chest tighten with a mix of embarrassment and giddy disbelief. They thought you were pretty. TWICE thought you were pretty.

“Do you think they know Korean?” Chaeyoung asked suddenly, tilting her head.

“Doubt it,” Dahyun replied. “They haven’t reacted to anything we’ve said.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. It took everything in you to keep your expression neutral, even as their words replayed in your head.

"Should we test it?" Chaeyoung asked. "Say something outrageous and see if she reacts?"

Jihyo came over and playfully slapped Chaeyoungs arm. "Don't be mean. She's probably just nervous. Leave her be."

She couldn't let it go. Chaeyoung wandered over to you. Your hands meticulously move bottles fractions of inches repeatedly. "You...very busy hun?" She managed in broken English.

You glanced at her, smiled politely, and nodded speaking slower than normal so she could catch more of it. "Yes, keeping things organized for you."

“Good,” she replied, her tone teasing as she switched back to Korean. “So professional. I think we’re making her nervous.”

“You’re making ME nervous,” Nayeon quipped, rolling her eyes. “Stop messing around. You’re going to scare her away.”

Sana, however, seemed utterly unfazed. “But seriously,” she said, her tone lowering as she addressed the group in Korean, “look at her hair and outfit. So well put together. Not to mention her face. It’s impressive.”

Dahyun smirked. “You’re really taken with her, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Sana shot back. “It’s not every day you meet someone who looks like they walked out of a drama while setting up a snack table.”

This time, you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. You turned your back to them, pretending to check on the fruit tray, hoping they didn’t catch the slight quirk of your expression.

“Did she just smile?” Momo whispered, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I think she might understand us.”

“No way,” Dahyun said, shaking her head. “She’s been quiet this whole time. Probably just coincidence.”

Still, the idea seemed to spark a new level of intrigue among the group. Jeongyeon, who had been sitting quietly, glanced at you and said in English, “You… like music?”

Caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Me? Yes, I do. Your music is quite good.”

“Thanks,” she said simply, her smile warm but brief. Then she turned back to the group and said in Korean, “See? She’s nice and a fan. Let’s not overwhelm her.”

Tzuyu, who had been observing everything silently, finally spoke up. “Maybe we should invite her to the show later. Watch in the wings,” she said in Korean.

“Really?” Jihyo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why not?” Tzuyu shrugged. “It’d be a nice gesture.”

You pretended not to hear, focusing on folding some napkins, but your heart felt like it was doing cartwheels. If they followed through with that idea, how were you supposed to stay composed?

Sana waved you over pulled up her translator app and typed out, 'Would you like to watch the show from backstage?' but when the electronic voice read it out in English it came out as 'Do you want to see the show behind the scenes?'

You understood it regardless. You stared at her phone then back at her then back down again and just nodded thanking her. "Really? Yes, yes, please. Thank you."

Momo smirked. "Ok, that was adorable."

Sana grabbed your hands and smiled wide genuinely happy that you seemed so interested. When she let go you scurried back to behind the table blushing like a mad woman with your fingers twirling around each other.

"I stand corrected. That's the cutest thing I've ever seen," Momo said. "Look Sana, you made her all flustered."

You refused to look up now having a convenient reason to be blushy and shy. As you busied yourself with unnecessary adjustments to the napkin display, you could feel the weight of their gazes. The warmth in your cheeks was practically radiating at this point, and no amount of deep breathing seemed to help.

“I think we broke her,” Chaeyoung teased in Korean, earning a chuckle from the group.

“Stop teasing,” Jihyo said, though her tone was more amused than scolding. “She agreed, didn’t she? That’s enough for now.”

Sana beamed, her excitement palpable. “I’ll make sure she gets a good spot,” she declared in Korean, clearly thrilled at the prospect of including you in their world, even if only for a little while.

From your side of the room, you peeked up just in time to see Sana still grinning in your direction. It wasn’t the kind of smile you’d expect from a superstar—it was warm, sincere, and oddly grounding. You managed a small wave, which only seemed to delight her further.

As the group settled into their pre-show routine, the flurry of activity grew. Makeup artists and hairstylists began their work, and the atmosphere shifted into one of focused preparation. You tried to keep out of the way, but the occasional glance or kind word from the members reminded you just how surreal this moment was.

Eventually, Nayeon wandered over, her casual confidence as radiant as ever. “You okay?” she asked in English, tilting her head slightly.

“Yes,” you replied quickly, your voice a touch higher than you intended. “Thank you for asking.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Good. Don’t let Sana scare you. She… very friendly.”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “I noticed.”

As the minutes ticked by, the group prepared to head to the stage for their private sound check. Just before they left, Sana turned back to you with a quick wave and an encouraging smile. “See you later!” she said in English, her words simple but filled with warmth.

You nodded, managing a quiet, “See you,” in return. As they filed out of the room, you finally allowed yourself to exhale fully. You leaned against the edge of the snack table, your heart still pounding.

As the green room emptied, the flurry of energy faded, leaving you in a blissful yet surreal calm. Twice had just been standing there, talking to you—not at you, not above you, but like you were part of the team. It felt too good to be true, but the slight ache in your cheeks from smiling confirmed that it was very real.

Still, the thought of being invited backstage for the actual concert was almost too much to process. You replayed Sana’s gesture in your mind—the way she grabbed your hands, her bright smile, the genuine excitement in her voice. It was the kind of thing you’d only dreamed about.

After the soundcheck, your friend finally reappeared, looking as smug as ever. “So? How’s my favorite ‘just helping out for the day’ staff member?” she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“You set me up,” you accused, though there wasn’t much heat behind it.

“I did you a favor,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Come on, you’re freaking out, aren’t you? You met Twice. They love you.”

You hesitated, debating whether to admit how much you’d overheard. “They were… really nice,” you said carefully. “And, uh, they invited me to watch the show from backstage.”

Her eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’ve been here, like, two hours, and you’re already besties with Twice? That’s iconic.”

“Stop,” you groaned, but her laughter was infectious. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep it together. I mean, Sana literally held my hands, and Nayeon asked if I was okay, and—” You cut yourself off, realizing you were rambling. “I’m doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” she said, grinning. “You’re lucky. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position right now?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I know, I know. It’s just… overwhelming.”

“Well, get used to it,” she said, clapping you on the back. “Because you’re about to have the best night of your life.”

The hours passed in a blur. You helped with final preparations, making sure everything in the green room stayed tidy and well-stocked. The buzz of the venue grew louder as fans began arriving, their excitement palpable even from backstage. The Twice members returned briefly to grab drinks and snacks, their energy shifting into show mode.

Each of them had a way of preparing—Jeongyeon hummed quietly to herself, Jihyo went over notes with a staff member, and Sana, as bubbly as ever, flitted around the room, checking on everyone, including you. Every interaction, no matter how small, leaves you feeling more grounded in the moment as if this surreal experience was meant to happen.

Finally, it was time for the concert. True to her word, Sana guided you to a spot near the wings where you could see the stage without getting in anyone’s way.

“You okay?” she asked again, her tone light but genuinely concerned.

“Yes,” you replied, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”

Her face lit up, and she gave you a quick thumbs-up before joining the others. Moments later, the lights dimmed, and the roar of the crowd filled the air. You watched in awe as the members took the stage, their presence electrifying. It was one thing to see them perform on a screen, but witnessing their energy, precision, and charisma up close was something else entirely.

From your spot, you could see not only the performance but also the little interactions between the members—the quick glances, the shared smiles, the subtle nods of encouragement. It was a side of them the audience rarely got to see, and it made the experience all the more special.

As the show went on, you found yourself completely immersed, cheering quietly from the sidelines and feeling a sense of pride for a group you’d admired for so long. When Sana caught your eye mid-performance and winked, you nearly melted on the spot.

By the time the concert ended, you were on cloud nine. As the members came backstage, still buzzing with adrenaline, Sana made a beeline for you.

“So? How was it?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Incredible,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for letting me watch.”

She grinned, leaning in slightly. “You’re welcome. It was fun.”

Before you could respond, the rest of the group began filing in, offering you nods, smiles, and even a few casual “thank yous” in passing. Nayeon gave you a quick pat on the shoulder as she walked by, and Jihyo offered a warm, “Good job today.”

As the chaos settled and the members started winding down, your friend appeared again, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

“See?” she said, nudging you. “I told you this would be the best night of your life.”

The post-concert buzz was palpable, with staff bustling around to pack things up while the members of Twice cooled down, chatting amongst themselves. You stayed in your corner, observing quietly, savoring the memories of the night.

You were carefully arranging water bottles on a nearby table when chaos erupted. A loud crash sounded from the other side of the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps. One of the backstage doors had been flung open, and a man—clearly not a staff member—was charging toward the group of idols.

Everything happened so fast, but instinct kicked in. You spotted him barreling toward Sana, whose back was turned. Without thinking, you shouted in Korean, "Be careful! Behind you!"

Sana turned just in time to see the man, her eyes wide with alarm. Fortunately, security was already on him, tackling him to the ground before he could get any closer. The room erupted in frantic murmurs, staff rushing in to ensure everyone was okay.

Breathing heavily, you looked around to see Twice staring—more specifically, at you. Jihyo was the first to speak, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "Wait… you can speak Korean?"

You froze, realizing what had just happened. There was no hiding it now. With a sheepish smile, you nodded. "Yes… a little."

Nayeon let out a loud laugh, slapping her thigh. "A little? You just spoke perfectly!"

Dahyun looked equal parts impressed and amused. "So, you understood everything we said earlier?"

Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head slightly. "Yes, I heard it," you admitted, bracing for their reactions.

Momo clapped her hands together, looking delighted. "Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know how awkward we were being?"

Sana stepped closer, her expression a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Then… did you hear when I said you were pretty earlier?"

You nodded, your face growing hotter by the second. “Yes, I heard that too.”

The group exploded into laughter, their teasing and playful remarks blending together. Jihyo shook her head, a fond smile on her face. "You’re amazing. You stayed so quiet this whole time."

Chaeyoung grinned mischievously. "So you did understand when I said something weird, huh?"

Trying to lighten the mood, you shrugged. "I was just trying to focus on my work."

Tzuyu smiled softly, her voice calm amidst the laughter. "And you protected us. Thank you."

Her sincere words seemed to settle the room, and Sana reached out to gently squeeze your arm. "Really, thank you. Because of you, nothing bad happened."

Though the teasing didn’t stop entirely, it took on a more affectionate tone. They were clearly impressed—and grateful. As the night wound down, you couldn’t help but feel like the bond you’d formed with the group had deepened unexpectedly and unforgettably.

The room gradually settled as the adrenaline from the incident ebbed away, leaving only the warm hum of conversation and soft laughter. You busied yourself by tidying up the snack table, partly to distract yourself from the knowing glances and teasing smiles still coming your way. Your face was burning, and you couldn’t meet their eyes for too long without feeling like you might combust.

Sana was the first to approach you again, her usual playful smile tinted with genuine shyness this time. She tilted her head slightly, clasping her hands behind her back as she hesitated before speaking. "Um," she started in Korean before switching to English. “You… very brave. Thank you.”

You waved your hands in front of you, flustered. "It—it was nothing, really. I’m just glad everyone’s okay."

Sana giggled softly. "No, you were really cool." She glanced back at the group, who were all watching the interaction with varying degrees of amusement and encouragement. “Uh… do you… have phone?” she asked hesitantly, her accent adorably thick.

You blinked, caught off guard. “My phone?”

Nayeon, who couldn’t resist jumping into the moment, called out in Korean. "You might as well ask for her number!"

Sana whirled around, her cheeks pink. “Unnie!” she scolded before turning back to you, her bashfulness now painfully evident. “I mean… number? For… talking later?” She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, her confidence faltering.

Your heart was pounding as you fumbled for words. “Oh, um, yeah, sure. I can—yeah.” You pulled out your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you unlocked it and handed it to her. Hopefully, fast enough she didn't realize your wallpaper was her.

Sana quickly typed her number in, then smiled shyly as she handed it back to you. “Text me… sometime?”

Before you could respond, Dahyun chimed in with a sly grin. "Should we invite her to our group chat?"

Momo snickered. "Don’t overwhelm her."

“Maybe,” Sana said, glancing at you with a playful smile before joining the group again, leaving you standing there with her number saved in your phone and a heart racing faster than it probably ever had.

As the evening wound down and the group prepared to leave, several of them waved and offered warm goodbyes. Sana lingered just a moment longer, catching your eye as she gave you a small, almost nervous wave. "Good night," she said softly before disappearing with the others.

You stared at your phone again, the contact glowing on the screen like a dream made real. This was a night you’d never forget—and perhaps, the beginning of something even more extraordinary.

[guppybibi]

Dates with the PJSK Boys !!

ft. Tsukasa, Toya, Akito, Rui

Tsukasa's dates often take place at somewhere lively & bustling, hmm I wonder where..maybe at a specific amusement park perhaps? Maybe it's the same amusement park he took you to where he anxiously yet confidently confessed his feelings to you.

Though going to the same place multiple times would feel more like being stuck in a loop than a routine, Tsukasa takes you to other places of course! More commonly being the mall or literally anywhere except places with bugs.

So..picnic dates are disappointingly out of the list. Unless you're one to be amused with the sight of Tsukasa screaming his heart out when a caterpillar wiggles its way towards you two.

Either way, it doesn't really matter where you two go. He'll make it his mission to make sure you have the greatest time ever!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now Toya's dates are either one of the two: peaceful and romantic or competitive and fun.

Some days the two of you will opt for a calmer hangout, having heart-to-heart talks at the cafe, taking late night walks. And sometimes, Toya even serenades you. Every single time, he makes you wonder how long he practiced the songs just to sing them to you. You wouldn't take any of it for granted.

Now for the competitive and fun part? Two words, the arcade. My gosh, that place is a battlefield for the both of you. No, there's no taking it easy on each other—just pure competition!

The loser treats the winner with ice cream and kisses!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Akito's dates are exactly what you would expect (most of the time), carefree and somehow rebellious in a way. It ranges from sitting atop of the roof, viewing the scenery of the city as if you two were in a cinematic movie. Or perhaps a quick and simple trip to go get some take-out, his treat, of course.

You two should really start having dates at clothing shops, god knows you're the only one who can help him with his questionable fashion sense..

Oh but some..if not most of your dates, are pretty chill actually. (He's just a chill guy...) The moment the both of you step through the doors of privacy, he's immediately all over you. Well not really, maybe that was a little exaggerated. I mean he's more affectionate than he would normally show, this man does not like PDA..but there will be certain exempt situations :3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rui's dates need only a handful of words to describe it, simply out of this world. Every single time, he manages to come up with a new idea of what to do together. Taking you by surprise every single time with no fail.

He takes your feedback about every date extremely seriously, like his life depends on it. He wants you to be completely honest with him, was the date not satisfactory? Tell him!

The most memorable date the two of you probably had is when he created an intricate escape room in his home. Though he may have purposely made it incredibly difficult to solve so he could keep you there for longer, I mean who is he to resist the sight of you with a frustrated pout?

[loveemagicpeace]

🍬Uranus Energy🍬

Uranus may signify death through accident, injury, or natural disaster, but at least it never signifies the death-in-life that is characteristic of Saturn. Thus, although Uranus energies can be extremely difficult to live with, the measure of chaos that they introduce is essential for life. Life is to a great extent a balancing of the orderly forces of Saturn with the chaotic forces of Uranus. Each has its place, and each needs to be kept in check by the other. Uranus represents something very different, very unique. But can also be very strange and unfamiliar. Anywhere you have uranus in your house it shows where your life is the most different. Uranus energies coming too soon in life can cause a chronically erratic quality that prevents any kind of maturation and produces an individual incapable of taking part in the social contract. Such people are automatic rebels: they rebel simply to negate order, even when order is still useful. Whatever it may affect or symbolize takes the form of something unusual, far different from the everyday world.

🦋Uranus in 1st house- you might present yourself differently to others or feel somehow out- of step. You can play a role as outsider, bringing valuable insight to outmoded situations. Your appearance is unique and your beauty can also be original and different from others. These people tend to have a different perspective than the rest. They think and look at life outside the box. You usually don't like things related to systems, you prefer to stick to your own rules. This placement often indicates an unconventional approach to life. This suggests that you are a very individualistic person, who operates the best on their own.

🌱Uranus in 2nd house-Financial fortunes might be subject to sudden changes, perhaps a result of not playing it safe. Income might come from independent freelance sources. Your money can go up and down very quickly. You can also have a different way of making money. This can lead to a unique approach to finances, a deep understanding of personal values, and an unconventional path to self-expression. Another strength of this placement is its innovative, progressive energy. You have a different way of managing your money. You spend a lot of money on things that are more dreamy. You have a free way of managing money and it doesn't mean much to you.

🌱Uranus in 3rd house- Your mind works at lightning speed. You can be single-minded in the way you think, with a talent for presenting the opposite view. Your way of thinking is often contradictory and different from the others. Many times your thinking and manner can confuse other people. This can also mean that your relationship with relatives is distant and cold. Your thoughts are often ahead of their time, leading you to challenge established ideas and concepts. Uranus here can also cause sudden accidents on the road. You have to be careful how you drive.

💕Uranus in 4th house- Early independence may have been high on the agenda. You might opt to rent rather than buy, so you can change the scenery from time to time. At home, you can often be rebellious and do things on your own. The relationship with the mother can be more distant, cold and perhaps strange. You can move a lot and the moves are usually sudden. Uranus can make a home unstable and strange.

🍭Uranus in 5th house-You have potential for genuine creative originality, although your challenge might be to allow it to land and take form, because each idea is rapidly superseded by the next. Your dates are usually sudden, different, and you may always feel that this area is not so close to you. Many times people can suddenly surprise you (positively or negatively) - also many times you don't get an answer as to why something happened the way it did. You can also suddenly fall in love. Pregnancy can happen spontaneously and the child may be born different from the others.

🍸Uranus in 6th house- You probably need some excitement in your daily round. Being freelance might suit you, so you can set your own routine and timetable. You like work that is independent and free. Above all, what you need is freedom - you hate when someone is above you and tells you what to do. Your rebellious path can be most effective through work. But since this house also represents the physical body, health - it means that you may have some disease that is unusual or you may have some skin problems that are unusual.

🛼Uranus in 7th house- You may prefer to break up with someone who curtails your freedom. Partners may seem unpredictable, but perhaps an assertion of your independence is at the root of it. You can go into a relationship suddenly or end it suddenly. Many times you can attract people who are different, strange, unique, smart. You can have certain conditions that you like about the relationship and stick to them. Few meet your standards. But you need a lot of freedom. Uranus can mean that marriage can be sudden. The law, however, can be quite different from normal laws. It suggests an individual who seeks independence, freedom, and excitement within their intimate connections. Uranus in this house indicates that you seek the company of people who have similar views as you do.

🏹Uranus in 8th house- You can shine intellectual light into life's mysteries, bringing clarity and rational discourse. It might be important to you to maintain your distance in intimate encounters. Because it is also the house of transformation, rebirth & things connected with needles, blood also sugerirs. It also means that you can go for sudden surgery. It can also mean a sudden loss. But you can deal with a loss in a different way than others. They are likely to attract unconventional partners who challenge their views on intimacy and shared resources. It can lead to successful relationships, marriages, and beneficial business opportunities. On the other hand, it can also create disruption in relationships due to its unpredictable nature and an unwillingness to conform.

🥊Uranus in 9th house-Going to university or grappling with religious principles can bring enlightenment - but you might also be inclined to question, rejecting orthodoxy and tradition. You can be very rebellious when it comes to church, religion, other culture and you can also be very controversial about that. Cuz you can also have your own religion that you believe in. Your opinion about the world can be completely different and the places that interest you can also be very unusual. You can also travel to places that others would never go. Especially to unpopular places. You can also have a very unpopular opinion about the world things & around you.

🎱Uranus in 10th house-Bowing to authority is not your style and you may choose work which encourages your independent vision and allows you to change track when it suits you. You can also be very rebellious when it comes to authority figures. The career may be in constant motion, but this can make it difficult to identify with a profession. They are often innovative thinkers with a knack for science and technology, and they bring originality and ingenuity into their development efforts. This often leads to unique and inventive career opportunities, an exciting public image, and the potential for innovative and progressive thinking.

🏝️Uranus in 11th house-This placement offers a parodox: how to maintain your freedom and autonomy within a democratic context. You could play the role of agitator, bringing radical change. You can have a unique way of doing things and seeing them. Many times it is strictly seen that you have the characteristics of uranus. U can also have very unique group or friends. This placement suggests that you enjoy taking part in online discussions where you can connect with like-minded people. Uranus here suggests that you are not interested in everyday goals, craved by most people. You have unique visions for your life. But you can also have the feeling that you are quite different from your friends (can also be lonely placement).

🧚🏼‍♀️Uranus in 12th house-Perhaps you hide your unconventionality so as to fit in - reclaiming this can help set you free. Your radar for collective trends can put you ahead of your time. You can also struggle with spirituality, things that are hidden ,unconscious -this doesn't mean that you don't believe in it, but you can have complex believing into this stuff. They may have dreams, intuitions, or sudden insights that challenge societal norms and traditional beliefs. It often happens with this placement that your parents expected a child with a different type of personality. As a child, you felt that you have to live up to their expectations, but you were struggling on the inside. Social conventions annoy you, but you struggle to express this.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🎸❤️‍🔥🧚🏼‍♀️

[c1trvswurld]

Mouthwashing headcanons

Curly

- From New Zealand - late 30s to early 40s most likely 38 -initially, his main dream/goal was to become an aerospace engineer, majoring in that and computer science before a sequence of unfortunate events caused him to drop out - went to the same college with jimmy! And joined a frat with him, both of them getting branded (curly has his on his right pec) - was scared when he heard Jimmy wanted to join a frat bc he's never been accepted or a part of large social groups. But even more scared when he realized that jimmy kind of fit right in. - one of those guys who are really engaged in a convo but it comes off as unsettling with the amount of times he nods and keeps his blinding blue eyes open. Never blinking. He'll have "regular" speech patterns but sometimes will randomly look through a person and start to monolog b4 going back to normal.

Anya

-Ukranian or Czech! -in her early to mid-30s. Give or take 32 -speedrunner. She knows she won't ever get top 10 in the world or anything but she'll get VERY competitive with not only her personal records but anyone close to her. - wanted to be a vet at some point because of her love for animals but then developed an interest in human biology and anatomy as well as psychology due to her mother and simply shifted her career path - outside of work she is interested in a lot of alt fashion and music. Specifically whimsical Gothic aesthetics -downturn eyes, roman nose, buck teeth. I'd also imagine she'd have a kinda boxy/rectangular figure. pretty tall being 5'10 -she speaks as if her words are waves, she has a fluttershy-esque type of speech pattern with just a deeper register and a hint of her accent changing her inflection from really high pitch to low on a whim. -A single-parent home (raised by her mom and still lives with her) is her moms caretaker! they are extremely close and are each other's number 1 friend

Jimmy

- hc him as mixed for some reason? Specifically having Korean, German, and Mexican roots. Grew up in the South and says weird shit like "colder than a witches tit" unprovoked. has a bit if twang as well -mid 40s...prolly 45 - one of those math nerds. It would be impressive if he didn't not so subtly flaunt it. Particularly when he feels like he's being compared to curlys accomplishments -did a little dance and had a whole party when curly dropped out of college. "Comforted" him through the decision...Has his branding on his lower abdomen (requested it be there specifically like the freak he is) -adopted into a military vet hoarder family. Doesn't know his bio family, tried finding his bio mom when he was 16 but that failed. Craziest mixture of childhood trauma and living circumstances that caused him to become a clean freak. Also around the time he was 20, he was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and a shit ton of cluster b disorders. Often manifesting in extreme zoophobia and claustrophobia. - eventually, his family deemed him too difficult to care for and kicked him out. He was homeless for a year till he reconnected with Curly- hated Curly for a while bc of this...felt lesser than him -monotone way of speaking and talks very quickly. Deadpanned long face, kinda wavy hair, gold tooth, with beauty marks on his face. Weightlifts but kinda has a sleeper build so he look lanky. Slouched.

Swansea

- Irish/Scottish roots. Lives in Minnesota - 50 to 60 his wife is a bit older than him by 4 years - has 2 kids. Both currently going to college. Is feeling empty nest syndrome hard and stares out into the window thinking about them in silence - won't admit it but his eyes are going to shit and he needs glasses. Will subtly ask anya about her eyesight and her glasses/contacts to see his options (thinks glasses makes him look stupid but his wife adores it) -dog person to the max. Helped him to adopt a lot when the kids left and now they're everywhere -lives cooking but is baaaaad at it. really good at baking though! -he talks kind of slow. Likes he's testing your patients. Has a bit of gruff in his voice and likes giving people nicknames and quick quips. The more he makes fun of you the more he loves you

Daisuke

-23/24 -Filipino and Japanese! -lives in a single parent household with his mom and relates to anya a lot in this regard. has a lot of pressure to fulfill the "man" role in his home - gyaru! He loves the subculture so much and likes to share/ talk abt it with anya. They bond a lot over their love of alternative things -very particular about his ring and jewelry placement. He will get a bit grumpy when he has to change or not wear them 24/7 -lived in Hawaii with his mom before the internship but they moved after his father passed - extremely good at swimming and sports in general. Sleeper build and has that farm boy-type strength -talks extremely fast and doesn't wait to see if you got it. Hand talker and is very expressive with his voice. Wears his heart on his sleeve -audhd -transfem tomboy perchance

[naamahdarling]

I do want to say, because I know I am extremely and probably sometimes unfairly unforgiving of everything to do with the medical profession, that I had a really good experience last week with a team that was very empathetic and trauma-informed. The area of medicine is deeply triggering and I truly didn't know if I would even be able to talk or not. They were very understanding and respectful and I didn't feel like an inconvenience or a difficult patient, or like someone who was making a big deal out of nothing.

I know and they pointed out that I'm not the only person with this issue. This is actually common. It is utterly baffling to me that so many providers aren't able to cope with PTSD in their patients, especially patients whose trauma is medical in nature. These people treated me like a normal person who had experienced some very not-normal things.

Anyway, I had an unexpectedly hard time afterwards -- I figured the hardest part would be the appointment, and it super was not -- and have had a hard time off and on since. It has not been fun. It's been frustrating and confusing and upsetting and scary. But for once, none of that was the fault of the people I saw. I went in unsure I'd even be able to talk about it and nearly completely certain I wouldn't be able to move forward with the things I need to do. I figured I would probably have to white-knuckle it through a panic attack. I came out having held a productive conversation that left me scared, yes, but also hopeful and optimistic that I can move forward. And I didn't have a panic attack. It was a radical and unexpected change.

I worked hard for this. Any trauma is an awful thing to live with. The work of remaking yourself around the holes it punches in you is hard and confusing. The healing is often slow. In my case it comes with very few immediate rewards (it will actually make my life more difficult for a while because I'll have to deal with more medical interference, hooray). But it was time for me to do this and I have come far enough and worked hard enough to have the resilience to try, and I did it.

All we did was talk, but that would not have been possible a year ago. It was all I could do to ask for a referral because even naming the specialty was upsetting. I couldn't make the phone call to set up an appointment and when they called to try to do it, I hung up. Six or eight months ago I managed to dial the number and then hung up the instant someone answered. Last week I walked into the building and said out loud multiple words that make me feel like I have worms under my skin and which I can barely look at, let alone type. I didn't lose speech. This was a big win for me, and I'm thankful it went well, and I actually am proud of myself. I didn't even use any of my antianxiety meds that day, because I didn't think I would need them.

I don't feel grateful to the staff, I feel like someone finally did the bare fucking minimum, but I am very grateful, because I am not only what I feel. I am also what I know and what I do, and I am finally sort of getting those three things to match up in a way that they patch the holes in one another a little, and maybe someday I can stop slipping through the cracks.

I'm scared they will fuck up when I go to get some issues addressed, and they will betray me or harm me. I really am. Because hey, that's what my experiences have prepared me for, so that's a very natural way for me to feel. Rational, even.

I'm scared that I will look back at this appointment and feel stupid for having experienced any hope at all.

But even if it goes to shit, I still went in there and tried. I still did my best. And my best was okay. I was able to separate my fear from what needed to be done just a little bit. That means something. Because I didn't think I could do it at all.

[pepprs]

hi, everyone. i hope you all are doing well. i’ve been meaning and wanting to check in here for many months but i have also been too afraid to. but i want to do it now because im potentially at a turning point and i want you all (especially close friends and mutuals who i haven’t talked to in a long time) to know what’s going on because unfortunately i do not have the strength to reach out individually right now, as much as i desperately want to.

when i left this place a year ago my depression was extremely bad. i didn’t know how long i was going to be gone or whether i was leaving for good, but i knew i needed to make some changes in my life before i could be here healthily again. well… 2024 has been a year of IMMENSE change for me! a lot of it has been for the good. i made some progress in my life by moving out, and i’ve had a lot of joy and healing in (very slowly) building a home for myself and figuring out what kind of life i want to live and how i want to live it. (im learning how to drive! i have string lights and stuffed animals and a wii! i am capable of solo travel!)

but… a lot of the changes that have happened this year have been for the worse. in almost every respect 2024 has been one of the most difficult and painful years of my life (and that is saying something!). this year a couple of traumatic things have happened to me and around me, and it has been extremely hard to live my life despite and beyond them. i have been dealing with physical and mental health issues that have greatly impacted my quality of life and make it unbearably difficult for me to get through every day. i am constantly running on negative spoons. one of the most damaging outcomes of this is that i have almost completely withdrawn from society both online and off and that is not an exaggeration. ive stopped talking to all of my friends and family except for people i see every day at work. i impulsively isolate myself when im in pain / distress despite knowing both emotionally and logically that it makes literally everything worse and i don’t know how to (and often can’t muster the mental strength to) work through the shame and grief and anxiety to seek connection and support. and im struggling to take care of myself including physically and its having severe consequences in every aspect of my life and in the lives of people who care about me. i live alone and i still think that was the good and right choice for me to make, but i am profoundly and agonizingly lonely. my depression was extremely bad when i left here, but i think despite everything it might be even worse now.

all of this is to say: this week i finally decided i can’t suffer like this anymore, and i began the process of seeking a formal diagnosis for my depression and other mental health issues and exploring additional treatment beyond talk therapy (most likely meds but there may be other things too / instead; still at the very beginning stages of figuring it all out). i am extremely anxious about many dimensions of this but also hopeful that it will help me hurt less because when i tell you at this point my brain and heart physically ache from depression like 85% of every day…. lol. im really hoping that once i get my mental / emotional pain under control i’ll be able to start tending to the parts of my life that have withered while ive suffered and repair the damage of my neglect as best i can. (which is to say… if you’re my friend and you’re reading this please know i love you and i miss you terribly and i am so sorry we haven’t spoken and i am so sorry im telling you this in a tumblr post you may not even read instead of a reply or a call back. i still love you and i want you to know it is not you specifically i am ghosting, its everyone. i am trying to build the strength and im scared i can’t but i hope i can.)

that said… i have decided i am not going to be coming back to this blog. i miss this place and the community i felt connected to here, but the way i was using this website as a public diary was extremely unhealthy, and as much as i miss it and still crave the instant comfort/validation i see clearly now with months of distance how damaging it was. (i truly cannot believe i was oversharing like that lol i am so private now (yes due largely to mental illness but still!)) i am so grateful to everyone who reassured me when i was struggling and celebrated my successes. this was the first place, online or off, where i (misguidedly but it’s true!) could actually be honest and candid about things happening in my life and my reactions to them instead of communicating it all through metaphors in my art and poetry, and it truly mattered that i had that experience here so that i could seek out more spaces like it in my offline life. i know i already said thank you in a previous update but really… thank you. 💗🫂

im not planning on deleting this blog. i may come back here and share updates like this one from time to time, but otherwise i will leave it as it is. but… i do want to get back to using a few of my fandom-centered sideblogs because looking at and compiling art of things i like is a low-energy thing that makes me happy! so you may see activity there every once in a while (tbh during this hiatus i have opened tumblr from time to time to look at art and save a bunch of posts that i wanted to reblog eventually lol). but… if i notice myself slipping back into bad habits i may private the sideblogs or abandon them completely.

i don’t know how to end this post. actually wait yes i do. one of my all time favorite artists is anna-laura sullivan (@/annalaura_art on instagram) and this is one of my all time favorite drawings of hers (so much so that i made it my lock screen so i can look at it every day!). this saying has brought me a lot of comfort and i hope it (and her other art) will bring you comfort too if you’re also in a dark place.

one more thing: not to be kind of a freak but in writing this post i discovered a longer version of my goodbye post from last year in my drafts. i don’t remember why i didn’t post it and obviously it’s outdated now but i want to share the draft because i went into more detail about tumblr having been helpful for me specifically when it comes to my mutuals + info / disclaimers about how to reach me and i want you guys to hear that in my past self’s voice lol! i put it under the cut if you want to read it!

2023 tess said it best: i hope you know how much it’s meant to me to be in your company. thank you for sharing and thank you for listening. i love you. happy [almost] new year. be well. good luck. shine bright. until we meet again ☕️🐈🫂💗

[dreamonminecraft]

Ok so u support dreamnap? Me as well but what are your thoughts bc ur extremely educated and well spoken

Okay first of all careful with the "well educated and well spoken" part. I'm 16 and trying my very best not to lose my mind. After four years in this fandom, I'm very well aware of how words can become violently misconstrued and everything is taken as the end of the world. I get it, parsing through information like this is difficult and trying to figure out where you stand is even harder- but don't take my words as final. Don't take anyone's. Consider your own thoughts and feelings against the evidence we all have and make up your own mind. That's part of the reason we're in this mess. That being said:

I think the largest factor here is that George and Caiti lived two very different experiences that night. I don't believe that George was attempting to get with her in any way- I don't think that any of the girls were invited to Dream's hotel room for any sexual reasons. I think from the first night they hung out Caiti was uncomfortable with the age gap and thought of George as weird, potentially flirty, and maybe untrustworthy. Neither Caiti or her friends liked Dream to begin with.

When they decided to go up to Dream's hotel room that night, Dream did not know how old Caiti was. Caiti says that George did. I don't know what their instagram dms were. However they interacted, they were all drunk and Caiti perceived George's actions to be sexual.

I think, based on how we know George to act when he's drunk (Sapnap's stories, Dream's stories, and the drunk banter episode) that he likely was touchy with whoever was around them that night. That doesn't invalidate what Caiti felt. She hasn't been around George much prior to this, certainly not while drunk, and she already felt like he was flirting with her. Whatever touching happened wasn't called out or even noticed by anyone in the room. Nobody remembers it happening except Caiti (and potentially George, but it's unlikely)

When she went to leave, she was already uncomfortable and then he followed her to the elevator. Benefit of the doubt, he was probably just going to walk her back to her hotel room, but she was very drunk and very uncomfortable, which he failed to recognize. The minute she told him no, he backed off and left her alone.

He likely did not interpret any of her signals that night, as she said they were all non-verbal until the elevator. He probably doesn't even remember it. We know that when George is drunk, he'll often sit on the laps of his friends (Sapnap) or hang on them (Karl) or even kiss them (Dream) but that's not okay to do with strangers.

This isn't a story about an abuse of power or age, but likely recognizing that some people just can't handle getting drunk. George is not good at reading people when he's sober, and can't be trusted not to trample on people's boundaries when he's drunk. Alcohol is not for everyone.

This is likely, hopefully, a one-off event. I believe that George's tweet yesterday was reactionary, as our first time seeing the allegations was likely also his first time hearing them. I doubt that he remembers the details of the night.

None of this is to abstract his fault. If Caiti was uncomfortable with any of his actions, he should have been able to recognize that and step away. The fact that he couldn't proves that he was too drunk and needs to reflect on his own problems with alcohol.

That being said, if what I think happened and what actually happened are the story that George explains when and if he goes live, and on the condition that Caiti believes him and accepts his apology, I will continue to support George.

I think there is a lot of growth that needs to happen in his own life. I think he's emotionally stunted, I think he uses alcohol in an unhealthy way, and I think he needs to come to terms with the fact that he hurt someone even if it was unintentional.

Lying will not get him out of this.

With all that said, I will continue to support dream and sapnap regardless of their reaction to this. Sapnap wasn't there. He has no part in this other than being George's friend. Dream didn't notice it when it happened and was never aware of any of it. He's been caught up unfairly in the allegations and I don't feel it's right to drop him over this, at least personally.

I don't think Dream or Sapnap will stop being friends with George. I think dream and George are more than friends and have completely built their lives around each other. I think sapnap's content is already mostly stand alone but dream has been his best friend for over a decade and George is such an integral part of that. I think it is naive to think George will be kicked out, and that doesn't mean that either of them are supporting a bad person, it just means they're being good friends.

Sometimes you have to be a good friend because somebody needs it. I don't know when George will go live and I don't know what he'll say, but I don't regret my time here regardless of what it is.

[pharmaciacatholica]

Someone once told me that suicide isnt like a "you're going to hell rn" situation because its often done under extreme stress/altered mental states and people aren't always in full control of themselves. I am sure the "instant hell" sentiment is probably a protestant thing but do you happen to know more on this?

I actually have a post in my drafts about this but is a subject that I do not love to speak on because it is inherently sensitive and it can often be difficult to express hardline truths without coming off as callous.

The cool part about being Catholic is that I often do not need to wade into the waters on my own. For the most part, I am able to point to the words or a far more learned and pious man than myself. In this case, I have the written words of Pope Saint John Paul II:

Suicide is always as morally objectionable as murder. The Church's tradition has always rejected it as a gravely evil choice.(x)(x) Even though a certain psychological, cultural and social conditioning may induce a person to carry out an action which so radically contradicts the innate inclination to life, thus lessening or removing subjective responsibility, suicide, when viewed objectively, is a gravely immoral act. In fact, it involves the rejection of love of self and the renunciation of the obligation of justice and charity towards one's neighbour, towards the communities to which one belongs, and towards society as a whole.(x)(x) In its deepest reality, suicide represents a rejection of God's absolute sovereignty over life and death, as proclaimed in the prayer of the ancient sage of Israel: "You have power over life and death; you lead men down to the gates of Hades and back again" (Wis 16:13; cf. Tob 13:2).

Evangelium Vitae (paragraph 66)

So you are partially correct and partially incorrect in your assessment. For some people, and I’ve seen this before, to go around telling those who have had a loved one commit suicide that they are burning in hell is completely insane and unjustifiable. It is also extremely dangerous to play off suicide as something that isn’t a grave sin or that every time it happens the person isn’t culpable for their actions. Suicide is one of the sins that landed Judas in hell, because he chose despair over repentance and mercy. I also think G.K. Chesterton spoke very poetically on the subject here:

Not only is suicide a sin, it is the sin. It is the ultimate and absolute evil, the refusal to take an interest in existence; the refusal to take the oath of loyalty to life. The man who kills a man, kills a man. The man who kills himself, kills all men; as far as he is concerned he wipes out the world. His act is worse than any rape or dynamite outrage. For it destroys all buildings: it insults all women. The thief is satisfied with diamonds; but the suicide is not: that is his crime. He cannot be bribed, even by the blazing stones of the Celestial City. The thief compliments the things he steals, if not the owner of them. But the suicide insults everything on earth by not stealing it. He defiles every flower by refusing to live for its sake. There is not a tiny creature in the cosmos at whom his death is not a sneer. When a man hangs himself on a tree, the leaves might fall off in anger and the birds fly away in fury: for each has received a personal affront. Of course there may be pathetic emotional excuses for the act. There often are for rape, and there almost always are for dynamite. But if it comes to clear ideas and the intelligent meaning of things, then there is much more rational and philosophic truth in the burial at the cross-roads and the stake driven through the body, than in Mr. Archer's suicidal automatic machines. There is a meaning in burying the suicide apart. The man's crime is different from other crimes - for it makes even crimes impossible.

Orthodoxy

This is just the writing of an overrated layman poet, but it really drives home the point.

[loveyjeongie]

Little!Momo Hcs

hi!! I haven’t posted much of anything in quite a minute so I thought i’d share some thoughts about little momo from this au I have (still working it out) :)

Momo is one of the members who regresses fairly often, she’s only usually big when she’s able to suppress it for times when she’s working but even then she happens to slip sometimes during schedules and has to be brought back to the dorm

She slips between ages but its only ever between 1-5 and she’s more frequently 2-4

Momo is autistic and also nonverbal when regressed

The girls have learned that when she regresses she doesn’t really understand korean very well, so if mina or sana aren’t around it gets difficult to communicate with momo albeit they try their hardest with the little bits of japanese they do know

This causes a lot of miscommunication tho because momo will get frustrated and upset that no one can understand her and vice versa :(

Mina takes care of her the most and is her primary caregiver among the girls, but everyone helps out a lot

Since momo doesn’t communicate verbally, mina got her a bear themed notepad (she loves bears) to write words or draw pictures to help them understand what she wants

They always make sure its nearby with one of those crayola orange markers bc its the only color she’ll write in (they bulk bought 100)

They also have communication cards that chaeyoung drew and had sana write with momo in both japanese and korean so it helps the other members as well

She’s a clingy baby :( she likes to play but other times she will cry a lot until someone picks her up and holds her, and will get really fussy when she’s put down again so she’s always kept very close to someone else

Jeongyeon got her a special weighted blanket that is only about 2 lbs and when she’s feeling very overwhelmed they wrap it around her and it calms her down a lot

Momo doesn’t like sitting on the couch or chairs bc she gets scared of being high off the ground without someone holding her, so they have a special area decked out on the living room floor with soft cushions and pillows, and the girls will sit with her there instead

Bedtime for momo is rough as she deals with a lot of nightmares, and after going through a handful of really terrible long sleepless nights they decided she’s not allowed to sleep on her own anymore

Mina sleeps with her most nights and momo is a lot more fussy when mina is busy or overseas for work but she doesn’t mind sleeping with any of the other girls as long as they make sure to stick to her routine as closely as possible

If she is going to bed with one of the other girls they have to facetime mina until she falls asleep otherwise she wont sleep

When she still has a really hard time during the night, they’ll wrap her up in her blanket and bring her out to her area in the living room and sleep with her there

She’s not extremely picky with food but she’s very specific about what she eats for breakfast in the morning because she wont eat anything else besides dry cereal and a bottle of slightly watered down orange juice

Her favorite member to have take care of her besides mina is jihyo :]

Jihyo even started taking extra japanese language classes to help her communicate with momo better

One of her favorite things is when jihyo holds her while singing songs from a playlist they made for her

Also when sana and nayeon play or stim with her, it makes her feel less nervous about doing it alone

She really likes animals. Even if sometimes the girl’s pets become overstimulating she loves seeing them and playing with them its really cute

Since momo is constantly on the floor they need to clean the dorm twice a day bc she’ll get sick if they don’t… the cleaning stuff scares her tho so they have to give her headphones and take her into an empty (already cleaned) room :(

this is kinda long, but if you want me to make a part 2 (I have lots I could talk about) or have any questions about any of it/want me to talk abt anything specific feel free to send me asks :] i’d love to talk about her

[always-amity]

I've had an idea knocking around in my head for a while to draw every single dragon from the wider httyd universe, including everything from the books, to the main DreamWorks franchise, The Nine Realms and even Rescue Riders. And as I go through redesign them (to varying degrees) to fit my style, and let out my biology and ecology nerd a bit with some headcanons for them.

I've got no idea how many Dragons I'll get done, but I figured going A-Z is the best way to do it, so without further adieu;

The Armorwing

(DreamWorks Franchise)

Headcanons below the cut

The Armorwing is the closest living relative to the Boneknapper, though it is also distantly related to the Sword Stealer and some Stoker Class Dragons.

Their neck is long and flexible, allowing them to see - and breathe fire upon - every part of their body.

Their fire is among the hottest of all dragon fire, but is very short range, reaching barely even a full body length. It cannot be shot in single blasts, like most dragon fire, and can only be sustained for a few short seconds.

Naturally the Armorwing will inhabit caves, cliffs, and rocky, exposed terrain, places where they are most likely to find minerals. They dig said minerals from the ground using their talons and the claws on their wings.

However, Armorwings have adapted amazingly well to the explosion in human civilisations, very quickly learning that a Viking village will have much more metal that conveniently isn't buried under mounds of rock. If you find an abandoned village, you'll almost certainly find an Armorwing that's made their home there.

It is not uncommon to find an Armorwing living with a village that is friendly towards Dragons, since the dragon needs metal to keep itself protected and the humans often find themselves with scrap metal that they can't reuse for anything.

Their eyes are incredibly sensitive to light, which is useful for spotting bright glints of exposed metal but makes being active during the day difficult. Because of this, they are mostly crepuscular (most active at dawn and dusk), when the daylight isn't as harsh on their eyes.

Armorwings are solitary. Each dragon has their own territory, and they do not encroach on others. Larger, older Dragons with more elaborate metal coverings often get first choice for new territories. They also don't coexist particularly well with other Dragons, with Smothering Smokebreaths being their biggest issue, but Skrills and many metal-eating Boulder Class Dragons also proving a problem.

Armorwings do not mate for life, they simply choose whichever partner has the armour they most like every season. Armorwings will often add more colourful, eye-catching details to their armour during breeding season specifically to attract partners. Females lay about 3 eggs a year, and care for the hatchlings for a month or two until their fire is hot enough to melt metal and they're about Gronkle sized, after which the Hatchlings are chased out of the mother's territory to fend for themselves.

Their armour tends to be concentrated around their most vulnerable points. Their chest and belly have the thickest armour, but it also encompasses their back and tail. Older individuals have more extensive, elaborate armour. However, fused metal does restrict movement quite significantly, so the armour on their neck, when present at all, tends to be rather thin and segmented to still allow them the range of motion needed to keep applying more.

Armorwings have thick, bulky legs and wide feet to support the weight of all the metal covering them. While they can stand up on just their legs, they primarily walk using their wings to help alleviate the weight. Their wings themselves are much more adapted to walking than they are flying, and while (most) Armorwings can still fly, it takes significant effort, so is mostly kept for only extreme circumstances.

Bonus Armour-Less sketch.

[ingravinoveritas]

(**Warning: Spoilers for the OFMD 2 season finale follow. Read at your own risk.)

I've just watched the finale of season 2 of Our Flag Means Death, and it has stirred a lot of thoughts and feelings in me (as it has many of us, unquestionably). I had initially planned to include some of these thoughts in my review of GO 2 (which I still have not written), but the death of Izzy Hands (Con O'Neill) has brought back some of the feelings I had a few months ago, so I'd like to talk about the theme of ableism in GO 2 and OFMD.

Since the first season, Izzy Hands has seemingly been a polarizing figure, but there has been a clear emotional resonance on the part of fans toward him, and especially now in season 2. To have his arc and "redemption" come in such an ignominious fashion certainly feels like a slap in the face to those fans. I would characterize myself as "Izzy neutral" (that is, I did not hate him, but I didn't necessarily feel a deep connection to him, either), but what troubles me is how Izzy was ultimately treated as a disabled character.

Earlier in episode 8, the Revenge crew is jailed, and Prince Ricky pulls Izzy out of the cell to have a drink, and during this exchange Izzy says this line, which we had previously heard in one of the trailers:

It was Izzy who the writers/creative team specifically chose to have say this line, and because of that, I find it very difficult to swallow the idea that he was the one character who was later killed. That in the end, the character who speaks about belonging is the one who doesn't get to belong. As if he was there to further Ed's storyline, to be an object lesson for him, and was then disposable after that.

Further compounding the issue was the crew using Izzy's prosthetic leg as a grave marker (presumably under the assumption that he no longer needed it). But for many disabled people, prostheses and wheelchairs and other accommodations are what help us thrive in the world and are part of who we are, so to me, taking that away from him inadvertently diminished how complex and multifaceted Izzy had become as a character and seemingly reduced him to little more than a mascot.

As a person on the autism spectrum who works in the field of disability, Izzy's line about belonging resonated with me extremely deeply. For many of us who are neurodivergent or disabled, this is the stuff of our everyday lives--being told through childhood, adolescence, and even adulthood that we are nothing, and that our lives do not have value. I spent so many years searching for that sense of belonging, to know that I had a place in the world, and it was not something anyone could give to me, but something I had to fight for. To make that space, because no one else would.

As I've said before, while I have watched both shows, I am far more into and emotionally connected to GO than OFMD. This leads me to GO season 2, and the parallels to this that I saw there. In GO 2, we have the character of Saraqael (Liz Carr), who is an angel that uses a wheelchair (as does the actor who plays them). It's shown in one of the episodes that Saraqael's power is to miracle wheelchair ramps everywhere they go, and in nearly all of the reviews and articles I've read about the second season, this trait is met with widespread praise.

But to me it mirrored precisely what we see in real life--that is, that the burden of accessibility is often placed on disabled people ourselves. I would have loved to have seen one of the able-bodied angels have not only the power, but the desire to create those ramps. It was disheartening to me to think that even in a seemingly ideal place like Heaven (although we know it certainly isn't), it is the disabled character who has to create a place for themselves.

The character choices around Saraqael and Izzy are something I would describe as benevolent ableism, in that while no harm was likely intended, it still reinforces long-ingrained prejudices and ideas about disability. There is so much intersectionality between queerness and disability as well, and so it is disappointing to see an opportunity to have that idea of "belonging" encompass every character only encompass certain characters instead.

I truly think this will only change if and when we have disabled people behind the camera as well as in front of it. And I hope that day comes sooner rather than later so that all of the fans who see themselves in Izzy or Saraqael are not left feeling the way they do now...

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 3.6k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.

part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings

Friday, April 16, 2021

Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.

The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.

Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.

Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.

An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.

“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.

She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.

“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”

“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”

“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.

Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”

“Did you know Carole very well?”

“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”

“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.

“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.

She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”

“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”

“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”

“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”

“I am. I really like him.”

It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.

“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.

Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.

“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.

“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”

“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”

“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”

“And you’re happy now?”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.

“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”

Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.

She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.

She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.

“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”

“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”

“It does, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”

Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”

“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.

Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.

“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”

Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”

The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.

“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.

“Mav?”

She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”

She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.

“You getting in the shower, Mary?”

The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.

“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.

Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.

And god, he is a man.

Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.

His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.

“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You.”

It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.

She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.

“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”

The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.

“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”

“Couch.”

He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.

“I’m sorry I missed our call.”

“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”

“I want to hear about your birthday.”

“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”

“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”

“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.

Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.

It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.

The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.

On her ring finger.

On her left ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”

Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.

“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”

“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.

“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”

“Jesus, Brad-”

She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.

“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.

“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”

“Or how you’re sleeping.”

“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”

“You’re sunburnt.”

“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”

“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”

I love you.

He just barely holds the words in.

“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”

“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”

“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”

He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”

“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”

“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”

“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.

The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe. Only 24 days.”

“Only 24 days.”

“I miss you, handsome.”

Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”

They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.

5…

I can’t wait to see you in person.

4…

God, you’re so gorgeous.

3…

I don’t want to hang up.

2…

I miss you.

1…

I love you.

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[clumsiestgiantess]

Cold weather prompt part 3! Since it’s angst day, I thought I might as well offer some angsty writing of my own @entomolog-t come and get it!

Stretching my arms high over my head, I wake up for the day and instinctively flinch, expecting my hands to whack painfully against the wooden wall behind my bed.  They don’t, and I let my arms fall back down confusedly.  A few seconds later, my foggy half-sleep disperses and I remember where I am.  There’s clamoring noise coming from the other room, probably the reason I woke up.  I didn’t want to leave the new bed I’d been gifted; even inside the air was cold, and the sun hadn’t even risen.  In this blanket, all of that disappears as if by magic.  It’s like no material I’ve ever felt.  This type of soft and insulated fabric is extremely difficult for a borrower to get — rarely ever discarded by humans for the taking.

How does it manage to stay so warm?  The echo of footsteps in the hallway sends my nerves readily spiked with adrenaline, and suddenly I’m out of bed.  Alice appears in the doorway, in a hurry once again.  “Oh!  Good morning!” she greets me, “You were sleeping so soundly I thought I might have to write you a note to tell you when I’d be back.”  Nodding with a tired yawn, I watch as she packs a drawstring bag with various utensils.  “Another one of those exams?” I ask her, concerned that her worried behavior hadn’t changed despite my return.

 “Yes,” Alice sighs, “I think I understand the material better, though.  After you fell asleep, I stopped complaining so loudly about things I didn’t understand because I didn’t want to wake you.  I guess I just needed to calm down and think things through a bit instead of just cramming everything at once.  Seems like a silly thing to learn now of all times, hmm?”  I’m not quite sure what sort of ‘cramming’ she was doing while I was asleep, but I nodded along politely.

“If I was a bother in any way sleeping here…”  “Nonsense!”  Alice waves a hand nonchalantly at me, “If anything, you being here calmed me down.”  There was a brief silence as Alice tugged her bag closed.  “Thank you.”  Her voice softened, stepping up to the desk where I stood.  “That must’ve been a hard decision for you to make.  Just know, I’m glad you did what you did.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m still stressed.  But I think I would be a lot more stressed without knowing you were alright.”

A warm feeling similar to pride swells in my chest.  It isn’t often that I’m assured I’ve done the right thing.  “When will you be back?” I ask, for once genuinely wanting her to be around.  Usually it’s the opposite; humans being out of the house is prime time for collecting harder-to-get materials.  “Just about three hours,” Alice replies.  That gives me time enough.  

I’ve been meaning to check the outdoor faucet and drain some of the water.  Sometimes, when no one’s been using it for a while, it stops running through the makeshift spigot I’ve set up in my home beneath the floor.  It stopped working a few days ago and I’ve been meaning to go run it.  These days it seems like I’m always running low on the precious liquid.

“Will you be alright here without me?  Do you need me to help you down?”  Glancing around for my bag — and inside it my climbing gear — I found it resting in a spot just to the left of my very cozy bed.  Nodding satisfactorily, I turned back to the human who’d gone to sling her bag over the side of her shoulder.  “I’ll be fine!” I assure her, “I am alone in your house often enough to know what I’m doing.”  “Right!” Alice gasps, “I forgot you’ve been living here…  Ok, s- see you when I get home?”  It was a question, not a statement — unsure whether I was willing to let a freak occurrence like this happen again.

“Yes, I’ll be around.  I always am.  Call for me, and this time I’ll actually listen.”  Alice’s smile brightens almost relievedly.  Saying another quick goodbye, she steps out of the room and down the hall.  I stand and listen until the sound of the door locking behind her reaches my ears.  Clapping my hands and rubbing them together readily, I scoop up my things.  “Alright, three hours.  Time to go pay a visit to the water pipes.

Stepping around my perfect bed, I snatch my bag off the ground and rummage through its contents.  I sigh in relief.  Everything is here.  Taking out my grapple and securely attaching it to the wooden ledge, I let the rope fall to the floor and lift myself onto it, slowly easing more and more of my weight on the cord to ensure it would hold me before scaling down.  “Now all I need are a few supplies and I’ll be on my way.”

Only after arriving safely home do I realize I forgot the thread I’d journeyed all the way to Alice’s room for.  Cursing my obvious mistake, I blame it on my disoriented awakening and began exchanging borrowing supplies for another set of equipment — boots that would cushion my fall to the ground outdoors, and a tough strip of fabric to help me grip and turn the spout’s handle that was meant for much stronger hands than my own.  “I’ll just have to go back for the thread later.  Alice will probably take me back to her room herself when she gets home.”

Alice.  How is it that a person can be so frightening yet so welcoming at the same time?  If you’d asked me a week ago what I thought I’d be doing in several days, you could’ve had me guessing for hours on end before I’d even think to answer: ‘Well, I think I’d be snuggling up in Alice’s hands and sleeping beside her on her desk, of course!’

Certainly not Alice.  I’ve had nightmares about her before.  During the summer, she’d kill every bug she stumbled upon without hesitation — some of them even spitefully.  While it’s true I’m no bug, her general ferocity towards small creatures living in her home was more than enough to put me on edge for a month or two.  Why was she so kind to me?  Alice knows I’m.. not human.  She knows that I’ve always been this small, that I’ve been living off the things she’s bought, in her apartment.  

An embarrassed red rushes to my cheeks, and I shake my head stubbornly.  That’s not even a thing for a borrower like me to be embarrassed of!  I’m proud I’ve managed to live with a human for so long without her even knowing I’m here!  Yet, the thought of Alice — the radiating warmth of her hands, the steady thrum of her pulse — is tantalizing to think about.  I don’t even realize that I’m standing in the middle of the hall in dazed silence until someone moves something on the floor above, startling me.  

Relax, Fen.  She’s just a.. strangely benevolent human.. who saved your life.  Ack!  Thinking about this sort of thing is bizarre; just focus on the task at hand.  Jogging the rest of the way there, I slip through a vent on the side of the building and into the chilling winter air outside.  Seconds later, I hit the ground with buckled knees to further cushion my landing.  If anything, this frigid weather should snap me out of my funk.  Expertly, I skirt around the side of the building along the decorative bushes and reach the edge of the side wall.  A water spout curves away from the concrete here.

Using the same grapple I’d slid down the desk with, I take a few good swings and attach it to the handle.  My weight isn’t enough to set the water off, so I clamber up.  All goes well as I use the strip of strong fabric I collected from my home to yank the faucet on, then let it run for a while.  I can feel it through the pipe — freezing enough to make my skin burn red in seconds by just touching it.  Thankfully, I don’t need much longer to get the water running through it smoothly again.  Any longer and I’d risk someone spotting me unawares.  Once, I’d nearly been grabbed by a child while doing this, but I’d jumped into a bush nearby and clung to a hidden branch until they’d gone.

With the coast remaining clear, I head back down.  Just as I unhook my grapple from the handle, the sound of large footsteps rumbles over the paved walkway to my right.  I dart beneath a bush and watch as two humans walk down the path towards the faucet.  Fortunately, I’m finished using it, and there isn’t a trace of me for them to spot.  “Watch out!” one human warns, “There’s some ice over-”  “WOAH!”  The other human yelps and slips over the frozen spot, reaching out and catching themself on the side of the building before they hit the ground.  I freeze where I am.  “You ok?”  “Yeah, I just slid a little.”  The humans walk carefully off, and I let out a relieved breath.  Neither of them had noticed me.

Trekking back over to the vent, I wind up and cast my hook at one of the metal slats.  The two pieces of metal collide and bounce off eachother, my grappling hook sliding uselessly down the closed grate.  Closed?  It’s.. It’s never closed!  I-It’s not supposed to be closed!  Oh no.  The human who’d slipped had fallen against the building here.  They’d hit the metal slits and accidentally whacked them shut.  Shit.  

The wind suddenly seems colder — the bushes sparser — as I make my way to the front doors.  It’s already a rather cloudy day, but I swear the clouds weren’t such an ugly shade of rippling grey when I first arrived.  Through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the building, I can see the lobby.  So close yet so far; I’ll never make it through such a big space without getting caught.  A shiver wracks my body as the wind picks up.  I’m not supposed to be out here this long, not without the new clothing I need to stitch for myself.  Even though the weather’s a bit warmer than the freezing temperatures I was caught in before, it’s by no means warm.

Desperate for at least some heat, I slip behind a discarded cup near the entrance, my skin numbing then prickling with warmth every time the doors open.  For just a few moments, I get relief before I’m shut out again.  WHAK  I cover my mouth to keep from yelping as something hits the ground right behind me.  Whirling around in utter terror, I fear the worst: a human found me.  A relieved chuckle bubbles out of my throat as I realize it’s just a splash of water.. from.. above me.

No no no.  No, please it can’t be.  Two more drops of water hit the pavement around me.  “AHHH!” I cry out as a freezing raindrop hits me square in the back.  My vision blurs briefly, my head pounding with fear.  Terrified, I glance around the walkway.  No one was around to hear me, but that wasn’t nearly as frightening as what I did see — one of the most dreaded things a person like me can encounter while venturing outside.  

There’s an ominous crackling onslaught of noise before I can even spot the wall of water racing across the parking lot faster than any human can travel.  It’s the kind of situation where all you can do is stand in one spot, utterly helpless to stop whatever awful thing is coming for you.  Terror is coming from so far away, but there isn’t a single thing you can do to stop it.  Instead, you stand back and watch.

Water pounds over me, stinging my skin with freezing projectiles.  I’m on the ground in an instant.  My own lungs choke my throat of air, convinced I’m drowning when I’m not.  I take a few gasping breaths to try and assuage it; my face nearly presses against the pavement to do so.  “Please,” I whine, unsure whether it’s the rain or my tears rolling down my cheeks.  If I could just get to cover.

Weakly, I struggle to haul myself towards the foliage I’d left behind.  I flinch and falter with every new pelting droplet of water that tears into my numb flesh.  Panic grips my chest when I pull my hands back to my head, only to find them bloodied and shredded after trying to drag myself across the rugged cement.  I can’t move; I can’t breathe.  I’m dying.  I’M DYING.  “HELP!  Someone please!”  The last word I speak comes out in a nasty rasping groan as I’m hit again.  

Thunder rumbles rhythmically around me.  I doubt anyone could even hear-  “Fen?  Fen!”  Holding a numb hand up against my brows, I barely manage to recognize the looming form of a human kneeling beside me.  Seconds later, the drilling raindrops cease.  Everything’s blissfully quiet and numb.  I lay there and pant.  “Fen, what are you doing out here?!  I told you I’d be back!  Why on Earth would you-?  Oh please be alright!”  

Slim fingers slip delicately beneath me and I wheeze a pained gasp.  It hurts everywhere.  Every breath shakes in my throat with a keening whine.  Soon, I'm hoisted cautiously into the air, covered by a second hand to block the horrifying bombardment outside.  I bask in the freedom to breathe properly, though my relief is largely shadowed by pain.  When at last I’m deposited onto a tabletop, Alice tries to rub me dry with a hand towel.  “AHHGGGGHH!”  She flinches harshly away from me.  “E-Everything burns,” I gasp.  “The.. rain…”  

I peel off my shirt in a hurry.  Large red welts bloom along my skin where I was hit with the freezing water.  Alice gasps, and I tilt my head up slightly to look at her.  Her hands are clasped over her open mouth as she stares at me with a horrified expression.  “Fen..” she whispers, voice laced with tears.  Tears begin to sting my eyes as well, but with pain rather than pity.  The human rushes away while I sit there and shake.  I don’t want to, but I tear off my pants, too.  Their course material stings awfully.  When Alice returns, she hesitates very slightly at my appearance, but quickly moves closer with a tube of some strange ointment in hand, and my blanket in the other.

“N-No!”  I struggle away as she reaches to place it over me.  “It’s ok, it’s ok, see?  The blanket’s a lot softer.”  The fabric falls over me and I cinch up, only to drag it closely around myself not a moment later.  She’s right.  It hurts, but not nearly as badly.  A few minutes of shaking later, and I begin warming up again.  “Oh Fen, will you be alright?  Why were you out there in the rain?  If I was running late.. or if I hadn’t heard you.. you..”  Tears start rolling down her face.  “I- I’m ok.”  My voice is still raspy, but at least I’m warm enough to speak.  

Alice wipes her tears away with a few swipes of her wrist.  “H-Here, I brought you some medicine.  Once you warm up a bit more, you can put it on.”  We waited as I told her what had happened.  However, the more I heated up, the more feeling returned tomy body, and the more painful things became.  After so long, I couldn’t keep talking, and instead lay down sprawled out over the soft material, breathing shallowly.  “You poor thing.”  Without the blanket wrapped around me, she could finally see just how harshly the weather had treated me.

With gentle caution, Alice lifts one of my arms carefully onto the pads of her fingers.  I inhale sharply, but she quiets me.  “It’s alright; let me put this on you and I promise you’ll feel better, ok?  This’ll heal up your skin in no time, I promise.”  I nod and let myself go limp.  Alice takes the ointment to my skin, rubbing it gently over all the reddened patches across my arms and chest.  They sting briefly, but fade away soon after.  My eyes are closed when she gasps and they flicker fearfully open.  “What happened to your hands?”  

“I tried to get myself beneath the bushes.. couldn’t make it.”  Alice gives me a pitying look.  She takes extra caution with them, dunking them in semi-warm water to get the dried blood off.  They start bleeding again, and she shakily wraps them up in little strips of larger bandages.  I try to do it myself so she doesn’t have to struggle with their tiny scale, but the bleeding only worsens, so I have to stop.

Eventually, once the front of me is cared for, Alice reaches for my sides.  “I’m going to have to lift you up to get to your back.  Will that be too painful for you, or should I do it?”  Her fingers hesitate less than an inch from my torso.  “Do it.  I can take it.  I’ll be alright.”  My voice has grown a bit stronger.  The pain is more intense than I thought, and I take in a sharp breath, but ask her to continue.  This awful pain is all the more reason for me to get it taken care of now rather than later.

I can’t sleep, but neither can Alice.  She sits beside me the whole time, occasionally getting me water, snacks, or just conversation throughout the night.  A few minutes past midnight, I gasp.  “Wait, your exams!  Don’t you need to study!?  I’ll be fine; you have to-”. “It’s alright, Fen.  I don’t have anything tomorrow.  Well, today now,” she amends, nodding at the microwave clock.  I relax with a sigh.

“That’s rather sweet of you, though.  You seem awfully worried about me for someone who didn’t believe I’d be kind enough to help them just a few days ago…  Sorry,” she adds after a brief silence.  “I don’t mean to sound rude.  It’s just.. nice of you.  I was thinking about it earlier, actually.  If I were in your shoes — if I were scooped up by some massive being — I probably would’ve run away too, even if they did claim they wanted to help me.”  I sit up curiously, flinching slightly at the pain in my back.  “I- I still can’t imagine what life must be like for you.  I mean, I’m sure it’s fun getting to run around secret places all day just living life to the edge instead of worrying about school and working jobs like me.  But it must be scary, too.  This is twice now in the last three days I’ve saved your life.”

I huff, slightly upset.  “I’m not usually in that much danger.”  Alice shifts closer to me and I glance up at her with a bowed head.  “Alright,” she says simply.  Gently, her chin falls onto her arms — crossed on the counter beside me.  She doesn’t say anything else, but her eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes crinkling worriedly at the edges.  I’ve never been so close to a human to notice all these small details before.  My arm must’ve drifted between my lap and the air several indecisive times before I finally let myself reach for her.  

All those little details shift and soften into a look of surprise muted by a soft relief.  Her hand reaches for me, engulfing my entire forearm before sliding my palm gently onto the pad of her thumb, holding it with the side of her pointer finger pressed on top of it.  Releasing my bandaged hand, her fingers drift upwards towards me.  My heartbeat quickens, but I make no move to get away.  A single gentle finger glides across my head, tucking some of my mussed hair back behind my ear and away from my eyes.  Alice’s hand drifts back down and rests beside me, though her gaze never leaves mine.

“Now that you know I won’t hurt you,” the human begins quietly, “will you stay here?  More.. out in the open?  Where I can talk to you or.. hang out.. sometime?”  Her cheeks redden slightly, and our gazes finally break as hers darts away from mine.  “It’s ok if you don’t want to, you- you probably have a whole house somewhere around here that I’ll probably never see-”  Quickly, I put a hand over hers beside me to stop her from babbling any further.  “Alice, I still live here; I won’t be far.  True, I don’t exactly have to sneak around the place to avoid you anymore, though.  I’ll probably be walking through here all the time.  We can stop to talk.. or hang out.. whenever you want.”

Alice gives me a grateful look.  “I’d like that.  It- It gets lonely sometimes,” she explains, again glancing embarrassedly away from me.  I can’t help but smile.  How could I have been afraid of a human so docile as her?   

Less than an hour later, Alice is asleep.  Her tired face rests smushed against the counter, breaths evenly and slowly rushing through the otherwise silent room.  Something about the moment makes me smile despite the constant throbbing ache of my raw skin.  She’s certainly nothing like how I thought she would be, but at the same time, everything I’d want her to be.  “Please stay like this,” I whisper to no one but myself.  “I know your kind is still awful.  Don’t let them change you.”

[theanimeview]

[Theory] Villains Are Destined to Die: I Think It’s a Coma (Spoilers)

Source: https://www.amazon.com/Villains-Are-Destined-Die-Vol/dp/B0B5JTTG2N?

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

I tend to dislike “it’s a coma” theories when I read them because the idea of everything being a dream or part of a coma is overused and clichéd. However, I can’t say that these types of theories don’t have merit. I mean, a cliché becomes one for a reason, right? And, for the first time (I think) in my reading of a work, I have a coma theory.

For some context, a coma theory is a common fan theory in which the main character of a story is theorized to be in a coma. The events of the story are imagined or dreamed up by the character while they are unconscious, suggesting that the character’s subconscious is creating an alternate reality to cope with the trauma of their injury or illness. The coma theory has been applied to a wide range of fictional works and is sometimes made canonical in the work itself. For example, Bones had an episode in which the main character Booth was in a medically induced coma for a short period, and he dreamed of an alternate life. There are movies too the most prevalent example being Disney’s The Wizard of Oz (1939) adaptation wherein Dorothy wakes up from a dream at the end and exclaims that everyone around her was also in her dream of an alternate world. However, despite being a trope in fan theory communities, these kinds of theories are often dismissed, usually because of canonical reasoning.

While a coma theory is often easily dismissed, I don’t think that will be the case for Villains Are Destined to Die. Rather, I believe that the creators of the series, SUOL and Gwon Gyeoeul, intend for this story to be about a coma victim rather than a girl who has simply transmigrated into an otome-game. Moreover, I don’t think that they plan to have her wake up at the end. Let’s get into it:

For those not yet familiar with this story or those needing a refresher, Villains Are Destined to Die follows the story of a college student who is excited to start school and pursue her interest in, assumably, archeology. This college girl has a tragic backstory. Following the death of her mother, she was taken in by her biological father who was also parenting her two older half-brothers. Her relatives were not friendly or welcoming, and she seemed to suffer from neglect and bullying at home–regularly finding herself starved for attention and food. She has found some success in school and living in an apartment away from home.

While she does not have much in terms of a disposable income, she does have a single vice for the mobile otome-game “Daughter of the Duke, Love Project” that is popular at her school. She has played the game multiple times at varying levels of difficulty as the heroine, but in the final and hardest mode, she’s set to play as the hated villainess Penelope Eckhart. In this version, she’ll be given a head start prior to the heroine, and since the game is set to the most difficult setting, one wrong move could lead to death. Upon pressing start, she is able to play in hard mode a few times before going to bed. However, after falling asleep, she wakes up not in her bedroom but in the body of Penelope Eckhart. To make matters worse, there’s no reset button in sight, with options that are limited and painfully difficult to comply with, “Penelope”–the main character–has an end goal of gaining the full affection of at least one of the male leads to clear the game in a single play through if she hopes to be released from her death flag filled fate, and all five romantic interests are going to be extremely hard to charm for various reasons given her role as the villainess. Moreover, she really only has a chance up until the game’s normal/easy-mode heroine makes an entrance since the heroine has a much easier time romancing the male leads.

Source: Villains Are Destined to Die, Chapter 44

Changing The Story & Overlapping Visions

While in this other world, Penelope regularly gets a window and otome-interface, and while the choices on the interface make a difference, the otome’s story progression is not optional for Penelope, so the story will progress through the game regardless of Penelope’s agreement or disagreement. What I have noticed though is that her words have a significant amount of influence over current events and the story than the choices she makes that are provided through the otome-interface. This is the first plot inclusion that makes me think Penelope is in a coma, and not just a character that has been transmigrated into the otome game.

For example, in Chapter 44, Penelope gives game-Penelope a tragic backstory that overlaps with her own past from the real-world. This includes the events of being taken in by her biological father, the tragedy of starving and the bullying at home, as well as the dashed hopes of living a happier life with her father and half-siblings in said home. We know that Penelope is drawing on the experiences of her past because she tells us so. We also know that this Penelope is unaware of whether these events are true to game-Penelope’s past.

After Penelope overlaps her personal story with game-Penelope’s situation, this becomes the new reality of the chacater’s past as shown in a later chapter when Duke Eckhart confirms in a later chapter the tragic beginnings that current-Penelope created in Chapter 44, which included not just her real-life experiences but also a bit of potential fiction–like being in the presence of her mother’s deceased body for a period of time and eating of rotten food from the trash to survive prior to being taken in by her father.

Source: Villains Are Destined to Die, Chapter 17

Beyond the overlap of visual imagery, I believe that there is a potential argument for the overlap of the sensory experiences too. This is certainly more speculative, but not without some merit. Many coma patients, particularly those who have undergone a medically induced coma for treatment have described sensory overlap between what was happening to their bodies and what was going on in their dreams.

For example, ice packs being laid upon the body to help lower a fever being perceived in a dream as having visited a cold place or overheard conversations being perceived as a personal interaction. Claire Lucia Wineland’s, an American activist who spoke on health issues and illnesses among other things, video on this subject provides a great example:

Title: Claire Wineland Talks About Being In a Coma | Source: https://youtu.be/DRQoayUBcBE

In the literary depiction of a dreamworld or coma story, rather than multiple dreams the patient tends to have one long and continued narrative. As such, Penelope’s story of transmigrating to a game-world and staying in the dream consistently as the story progresses makes sense.

Penelope seems to get injured around her neck and other places pretty consistently and I believe that these could be examples of further sensory overlap. For example, in Chapter 2, she wakes up from a pin prick by her maid, which could be her body experiencing the real-life introduction of an IV. There is also the cut to her neck in Season 1, and an additional neck injury near the end of Season 2 that I suspect could also be related to patient care as long-term coma patients often require additional supportive care like breathing assistance and the administration of medicines through multiple veins. Perhaps, going a step further, what she experiences as arguments or unexpected visits from her game-family are actually her experiencing her real family visiting her in the hospital. This would match well with the overlapping images we see in the arguments with her second brother, and also account for some of the responses she’s getting.

Perhaps as the affection levels of the leads go up, what she’s really seeing is a softer or more affectionate side to her neglectful family. Assumably, then, the other male leads and characters could have another real-world equivalent too. Perhaps doctors or nurses, which would explain why she has a much easier time raising the affection levels of those outside the family and those in the duchy.

In The Wizard of Oz movie adaptation, there was also a high level of overlap between the real-world family and friends of Dorothy and the characters from her dream, as revealed at the end of the movie. Dorothy also had a level of impact in the world and story progression, as she made the choice to help others and often decided what the group would do (and why they would do it). This also seems to be a trope of many other examples of coma-storylines when seeing the story from the dreaming character’s perspective.

Source: Villains Are Destined to Die, Chapter 2, 8

A Chance To Change & Waking Up

The idea behind coma plotlines is typically that, in this dream, there is a chance for self-reflection and a change of perspective. If Penelope is in a coma state, then the trope would be that she needs or is reflecting on her biological family’s treatment of her and letting go of that pain. If my theory is correct regarding the affection levels, then she may unconsciously be repairing her relationships (literally) as the family comes to visit. However, Penelope is pretty clear that it doesn’t matter whether the relationships repair or not. Frankly, I don’t blame her since these characters are not really making a redeeming effort as time goes on outside of, maybe, Penelope’s personal maid.

All that matters is Penelope surviving and gaining the freedom she’s always longed for since coming into her father’s house. A freedom where she can explore her passion for archeology, enjoy a life away from her cruel family, and perhaps find the same kind of love the heroine from her favorite game experiences. This is why I think the creators don’t plan to have Penelope wake up at the end.

If Dorothy’s freedom was longing for home and the motto “There’s no place like home,” Penelope’s would be the complete opposite. With the choice to stay in a dream that ends happily as romances do, or the choice to return home–I think Penelope would choose the former because of how awful her family has been and how difficult the real-world is compared to the wonderful dream that’s getting better all the time.

That’s my theory. What do you all think?

As a side note: To be honest, I’m thinking about picking up the novel to find out. I know that adaptations to a different form often take on different story aspects or even different plots entirely, but I want to know if the same thing that has happened in the comic has occurred in the original novel text too. Out of all the transmigrated to a game-world as the villainess stories I’ve read, this one really does feel like it is trying to do the “it’s a coma” trope rather than an actual tale of transmigration and I kind of want to read about it to see if the feeling sticks. If, and this a big if, she is in a coma story, do you think she’ll wake up? That is the most typical answer, but I’m leaning heavily towards a “no,” and I’d be interested to hear if others agree or disagree with me. Well, thanks for reading!