#because daydreaming about writing is never quite the same as the reality

[not-poignant]

Do you have any advice on how to write more words on a regular basis? I find it difficult to write regularly but am fed up of only being able to produce sporadically in small amounts. Whenever I sit down to write it feels like I'm feeding gravel into a blender (if that even makes sense). I've tried getting advice from others and am told to just "stop trying to write then". But I can't because I want to write. Writing is all I ever think about. It feels like oxygen to me and when I'm not doing it (or thinking about doing it) I feel like I'm dying inside. But damn, I just wish it wasn't so difficult.

I really want to finish my stories and I know I could if I just wrote regularly but I don't know why that's so hard for me to do.

Hi anon!

I might have some thoughts on this because I certainly never used to write as much as I do now!

Firstly, I'll get this one out of the way now, if you have money to spend, join 4thewords - ignore this if you don't have it. But this gamifies writing in a genuinely fun way. Each monster you kill gives you loot, and fulfills quests that give you more loot, that opens more worlds and more options that give you clothing / house furniture and more. This was - given how much more productive it made me - a game changer re: writing more.

If you don't have money to spend, let's ignore that and go to other methods.

If you want to write more, the answer isn't to stop writing, it's to write more. The best time to hear 'it's time to stop writing' is if you're burnt out, or you hate everything about it. It sounds like you don't hate everything about it, you just wish it was a bit easier.

Decide what you want regularly to mean. I don't have a daily writing habit - I don't write every day! I'm too sick to, so i have a monthly minimum wordcount instead of a daily minimum wordcount and try and hit it by about week 2/3. Regularly for you might be once a day. Once every two days. Or it might be 'I have to write this many words a month.'

Find a way to track the words you're writing. The only way you can accurately see how much you're writing is by tracking those word-counts! Because you will have days where you feel like you wrote nothing and actually wrote a fair bit, and days where you feel like you wrote a fair bit and sadly wrote...hardly anything, lol. But it's also the best way to see yourself achieve more as you increase your wordcount.

Let's also talk about flow. Sometimes you don't get to feel 'flow' - that feeling of the words coming out easily onto the page, and you have to kind of struggle for every sentence. Are you okay with writing more knowing that this is actually normal for many writers, and the gravel blender feeling might not go away? It will over time get easier to write more words, but it might mean more of that gravel blender feeling. Flow is not predictable, and is often story and scene dependent. Chances are you will have more times feeling writing flow, I just want you to be honest with yourself in case it doesn't happen the way you wish.

From there, it's a combination of developing the discipline (which is like exercising a muscle - start small and grade upwards, don't aim too high at first, consistency is better than bursts), and finding the tricks that help you.

Look at how many words you think you could write a week. Let's lowball and say about 100 words a week. When you assess this for yourself, always undershoot, don't round up! 100 words is like... a long paragraph worth of words.

The following week, depending on if you want a daily / once every two days etc. habit, you'd aim to write 150 words that week. A paragraph and a half.

The week after you'd aim for 200 words.

You might find in week 2 it was easy to write 1000 words, great! But the week after you're still only aiming for 200 words. Don't base scaling up on the bursts / writing sprints - they'll lie to you. If you want consistent discipline, base your increases on the low days. If you reach a week where 200 words feels impossible, aim for 200 words the following week, if it's still impossible, go back to 150.

Now for you it might be... 500 words in week one, 600 in week two, 700 in week 3 etc. It might not seem like much, but you'd be surprised how quickly you start scaling through those numbers with practice.

Increasing writing output is a numbers game. And it's a patience game. And it's a 'being forgiving and gentle with yourself while also being a little bit stern with yourself' game.

Here's the thing no one tells you (except for NaNoWriMo every single year) re: increasing your wordcount.

Those words don't have to be good. They don't have to be good in fact it's better if they're not.

You're just getting used to the feeling of writing more. Not writing more good words, that will come naturally with time. You're getting used to sitting in front of a document for longer, thinking of more sentences you don't necessarily love (it's better if you don't! Write the bad ones!) And this is what I mean by it's a numbers game. Getting better at writing happens the more you do it anyway, so you can just focus on 40 bad sentences.

The trick to letting yourself write badly? That one is just...gritting your teeth and screaming through them while you go 'AHHHHH' in your head and let those suckers loose. Or whatever version of this that you have.

Because here's the thing, it's actually pretty easy to write 1000 words of inconsequential terrible story that no one's going to read. I mean 'pretty easy' - it's easier than writing the stories and characters you love the most and are so invested in, it's hard to write the sentences because you want to do justice to it all. That's fucking stressful, friend, and increasing writing output is just better if you're not always a) doing it on those stories or b) invested in writing those stories well in those early draft/s.

But once you're used to writing more words of stuff you don't love, it becomes easier to write less words of stuff you do, and chances are that will still be more than you're writing now. <3 Some of my stories are really easy to write, and some are way way harder. A chapter of The Ice Plague took as much time as three chapters of Underline the Black. So story is important here too. But also the point is basically that... you don't have to scale up your writing output with the stories you're most invested in, but need to be at a certain standard of writing. You can scale it up any time, with any kind of story - anyone can do this. Increasing your wordcount is a matter of like... easy methods that are less easy to implement irl because of the psychology around letting yourself write badly, and letting yourself validate the time / put the time aside to do that.

And here's the other thing - find a ritual that helps you. Whether it's brewing some tea before writing. Setting up a little space. Putting on some music or a noise generator specifically for writing. Listening to Lo-Fi Girl or Synthwave Boy. Whether it's writing a few words on paper first, or changing the font. Eventually you will have a Pavlovian response to the ritual, and every little bit helps.

As for the psychology, this is why you lowball. You make it as easy as possible. 'God writing 1000 words seems really hard oh but I only have to write a sentence today, cool, I can do that.'

The thing about lowballing is that on the good days, you will write way, way more than your goal. Which means a) you're done for the week if that happens if you want to be done and b) when you're back to feeling exhausted and like GGHGHGHGHHHHH about writing, you're still back at that initial lowball wordcount.

On my worst days, I lowball to like, 5 words, 10 words, and just write 5 / 10 / 15 etc. down on a piece of paper and cross them off. 30 words can be a sentence. 10 words can be a sentence. It feels nice to cross off numbers on a sheet of paper and see the increasing words. I can almost always get to 500 words with that method, and I think you could definitely get to 100.

Anyway the TL;DR

Consistency is way more important than quality

Don't be surprised if you don't find 'flow'

ALWAYS lowball when you're developing an increase in words

Figure out what 'regular' means to you (daily / weekly / etc.)

Make a ritual

Focus less on the stories you love most when developing this habit

If you have a bad week, just go back to the previous wordcount goal. And keep doing that, this won't be a linear process!!!

...It didn't need to be this long I'm so sorry anon idk why I'm like this.

I wish you all the best! I 100% disagree with the folks telling you 'just stop writing then.' I'm like nope, embrace the gravel blender, eventually you'll end up with smooth sand in an hourglass, I promise. <3 You just might have to add more gravel sometimes. ;)

[uhardite]

a kind of success story??

okay, this is NOT a guide, but feel free to use it if you wish <3

so basically, last year, on my birthday, i was gifted a lot of money by my family, and i wanted to spend all of it on getting clothes that sutied my aesthetic/staple pieces that i can use to create varied looks, so i made a very detailed list of what exactly im going to buy with the money, price, number of them (for ex: 3 tank tops, 2 jeans) at the start of this year. and then i kind of forgot about the list, that is, i uninstalled the app for more storage space (lmao) and never opened it again.

fast forward to november, i wanted to make a schedule for my 70 day glowup challenge, so i logged into the app again, and noticed my list. and guess what? not only did i have every single thing on that list, i could also buy things THAT I DIDNT WRITE DOWN but wanted in my mind. with the SAME amount of money that i had in the start of the year. and not just this, there have been several instances where i have wanted something and thought about it everyday before going to bed, and it came true, completely and irrevocably. this is why i do believe in the power of manifesting and affirming. i used to think it was just daydreaming, but i realised that it isnt, because i was imagining myself in particular situations that i wanted for myself, and later that year or a few days later, i would find myself in that situation (for ex, i manifested a guy crushing on me, and it came true, very powerfully, in fact, in just a matter of days. at that time i didnt see the connection, but now i do)

also, a note about void state. i literally opened tumblr first thing in the morning today and read a post on someone who got into the void state/was trying to get into it, and i was like, what???? because, i have been experiencing that often when i go to sleep at night, ever since i was a CHILD. i dont have much of an idea of what the void state feels like, but while laying in bed, i would often have this feeling of spinning, sinking into a pitch black tunnel. and quite obviously, i didnt know what it was, but over time, i learned to relax into it. again, since i didnt know this was the void state, i never used it to manifest or imagine the reality i want, but now that im aware, i will start using it.

again, im not sure if i did reach the void state, bc im not well-informed and until today i didnt even believe in it, so leave me a comment if thats not the void state, it would be really helpful xx

[nerves-nebula]

Idk about your intentions, and feel free to ignore me if I’m wrong, but Mikey sounds like a maladaptive daydreamer lol.

Just some background, maladaptive daydreamers use these huge fictional worlds called paracosms to escape reality. Some people do it because of anxiety or stress, but some do it as like a coping mechanism (which is how I’d see Mikey doing it based on your dissociation post) People with maladaptive daydreaming can stim while doing it, like rocking back and forth, pacing, etc, but some can master the art of being able to sit still and just daydream whenever. There’s almost an addictive aspect to it, and a lot of daydreamers have to take adhd or anxiety meds to shake it

Would Mikey stim at first but learn to stay still after Splinter lectured him too many times? Would his paracosm be the book that he’s writing about killing splinter? Idk feel free to look at this like I’m crazy but this subject is very close to my heart as I’m a daydreamer myself.

OK SO like. I don't know. and I don't know if Mikey has maladaptive daydreaming for a specific reason.

That being that I'm basing him on myself. I spent a lot (AND I DO MEAN A LOT) of my time in my head as a kid. I don't really know what a paracosm is so I'm not sure if I was exploring within them. but there are huge chunks of my childhood i really only remember via the emotional exploration I was doing inside these fictional worlds. Like most of puberty for me was just imagining gay fictional gods and forbidden love and abuse and violence and at all that. and it's hard for me to tell if that was a bad thing because it's linked to a very integral part of my personality- that being the desire to tell and experience stories.

I was always dragging around paper and pencils to draw these imagined worlds. But i was also often just sitting with my eyes closed (or sometimes opened, but closed if I wanted to really focus)

if I was painfully bored, or very anxious (which happened often, basically any time i was outside the house or not watching tv or playing a game) I would do this. If I was stuck in a car or a room while my siblings were fighting violently, I would force myself to try to only think about my characters. If the talk radio host was getting on my nerves I would try to drown him out by thinking about my characters going through their worlds and getting in fights and having sex and all that stuff.

this got even better (or worse, considering how you think of it) once I got earbuds/headphones and access to my cousins old ipod. I was finally able to fully block out the world and only, ONLY ever think of my stories. just how I'd always wanted.

and sure, I was always kind of spacey, but even when I wasn't thinking of stories and art I was bad at paying attention the way adults liked. I think adults liked me more when I was just sitting there thinking anyway, instead of being hyper and then having an emotional breakdown when i realize they thought I was annoying.

There was a particularly vibrant time for daydreaming around puberty where i had dozens if not around a hundred different intricate stories that I started to overlap, just because. And I'd go through them over and over, adding or changing little things, making up reasons that the characters would all end up living in the same bunker or fighting the same enemy. making up reasons for the god of war and his little lamb prince to be torn apart. making up reasons for them to attack each other. then forcing them back together through all the trauma.

and recalling these spaces makes me kind of shiver because they're almost like real memories to me. I remember thinking of these scenarios more than I remember my real life around 11-12 years old. And i think that's largely because after I got my blackbelt at around 11 years old, my parents let me quit karate, and didn't force me to do any more sports or anything. So for the most part I legit never left the house. My entire life was in these stories and in my art.

I really only stopped doing this once I got sent off to high school at around 13-14 and was basically FORCED to participate in the real world more.

but I did that all on purpose. i was bored, and i hated other kids because they never clicked with me. and it never seemed to interrupt my life in a way that my parents noticed or cared about. in fact it was the only thing that kept me from being actively suicidal for a while there!

so like. i don't know man. i don't know.

[caffeinated-eccentric-polymorph]

💭 Daydreaming Questions 💭

⏳How long have you been daydreaming for? What was your first scenario/paracosm? I've daydreamed for as long as i can remember. I dreamt of balls with characters i loved, i dreamt of going to magical schools (not Hogwarts, i hadn't yet discovered it), i dreamt of adventures fighting the shadows of the world and of being a lost boy. The In-Between though, dates back to the begining of me writing. In primary school, we had a personal notebook for when we were bored, and i started making my own world in it. That's the very beginning of the paracosm i still hold onto.

❓Would you rather: have your daydreams projected onto a screen attached to your head at all times or be entirely unable to daydream ever again for the rest of your life? The screen! It's not maladaptive anymore, so it wouldn't pop up anywhere anytime. Plus, it's be nice providing free movies for people i love and trust! And maybe i could use the screen like a movie director, and record it to make my own little movies! It's certainly be easier than trying to write it all down!

🪞 What para of your is most like you? Paraselves/self-inserts don't count! Probably a mix of Viaris and Lilly! I'm very artistic and jittery and flamboyant like Vi but also when I was younger I was literally a younger version of Lilly (didn't notice at the time-)

🏷️ How do you come up with names? Do they come to you or do you spend hours on websites? Sometimes they come to me, but it's quite rare! Most often I look at generators or websites until one rings right! For the main cast for example, Viaris came to me, the others i had to look.

🗺️ Do you do extensive worldbuilding for your paracosm? If so, what are some of your favorite elements? I do! I'm currently trying to sort that information and write it down actually! I coudn't really choose favorites right now though to be honest

🪽 If your paras found out you were their creator, how would they react? Viaris: Step 1: existential crisis. Step 2: dang that's cool, someone made me, so I have to be wanted! (yes he needs therapy) Nikolas: That boy would never be the same. His entire view on reality and purpose would be shattered. Lilly: Freaked out. As in, why the fuck would the equivalent of a god be so close to its creation, this feels parasocial Brue: Probably would find me a bit lame/weird for having that as a solution, but would do her best for me to feel supported Harvel: Would feel like he just got out of the cave from Plato's allegory. Would think they're taking it well, they're not, they're having an existential crisis.

🦦 If you have a self insert/paraself, how similar are they to you? Pretty similar! Braver, more reckless. And, well..; not stuck in a static human body-

🕐 Is there any time of the day where you can't/don't daydream? The morning! It can't be the first thing I do after making my coffee- however I can write about it first thing in the morning, just not daydream in itself for some reason. I think it's because I love calm chill mornings so much and even if my daydreams are chill/slice of life sometimes, I move a lot when I daydream, so it doesn't really fit the vibe X)

📜 Are your daydreams linear and structured, or do you jump all over the place? Pretty structured! The jumps are more of a "in the meantime, with X character(s)" kind of thing, but even if there's flashbacks and all it's pretty linear and organised despite me improvising the whole time

🎶 What's a song you've been daydreaming to lately, and what's your favorite moment in said daydream? I've been daydreaming to "Labour - the cacophony" by Paris Paloma. Always for revolts of opressed people, often queer (or queer coded) or feminine people (like the fae or shapeshifters) That song and the feminine rage I feel while listening make me shiver everytime, it's such a powerful song

🐣 Do your paras age with you, or are their ages static? They age with me! And we have a whole history together, we grew up together pretty much! When I include fictionnal characters that I got to know younger, they aged with me too. I don't really think about it much, but if I met them for example 3 years ago, they're aged too since then.

🚀If you had the opportunity to leave this world and live in your paracosm forever, would you? Why or why not? I'm very torn, because this world and these people have been with me for around 10 years, b ut I've found great people in this verse and I'd feel bad abandoning them… I'd rather just float in between them, since the in-between is linked to all worlds theoretically.

🏃 Do you move a lot when daydreaming, and if so, in what ways? I walk (unless I'm in a moving vehicule, as the world already moves around me) and gesticulate a lot, as well as make faces and mouth things.

🎬 Have you ever wanted to make a piece of media of your paracosm (comic, animation, visual novel, novel, tv show, etc.)? I'd love for an animated series and a book series to be made!! But also I could never look at any criticism, not matter how constructive and kind, because it's too much of my baby

💫 When you actively want to start daydreaming, what is your mind's process? I'll look at fanarts and tropes and stuff I like on Tumblr or Youtube, put on some music, and usually it comes easy like this!

👻 Do you ever daydream about yourself (not a self insert, just you)? Yes, but mot in the usual way I daydream. It's more when I'm bored waiting, or even lost in my thoughts, where I'll daydream about what I'll do the next day, or when/if I get my dream cottage, what would my day be like, stuff like that. I don't move, I just sit back, and music isn't necessary for those.

🧱 When you experience a daydream block or crash, what are things you do to try and fix it (or ways you cope)? Consume series, books, movies, animatics, etc, anything that I love and inspire me! I don't usually look at prompts or tropes like usual though. And if it's still blocking, I'll try to discover a new thing I'll love, and that usually gets me out of it. Otherwise, now that it isn't maladaptive anymore, I just do other things (even if I miss my paras, they'll be there when I'm unblocked ❣️)

📖 For fictparacosms, do your daydreams affect how you perceive the media and/or the fandom? The In-Between being in between worlds, I sometimes mix it with some characters and worlds from things I like, so while it's not quite a fictparacosm, I'm still answering this ^^ Yes it does. I'll usually seperate my version and the canon one, as like, an alternate timeline yk? That's the best way I've found, as that way I can enjoy both my daydreams and the source, no matter how different or what happens!

💅 If you have tried to make your paras in character makers (picrew, meiker, etc), what is an aspect of your para that these makers never/rarely have? The colorful glowing tattoos the Bitweenians get when they get "adopted" by the in-between!! There's sometimes tattoos, but they're always in back ink TwT Still looks good, but not quite my vision

👁️ Are your daydreams clear in your mind's eye? Yes! Like a movie/series! Sometimes animated, sometimes live-action!

[ceps-pers]

💭 Daydreaming Questions 💭

⏳How long have you been daydreaming for? What was your first scenario/paracosm? I've daydreamed for as long as i can remember. I dreamt of balls with characters i loved, i dreamt of going to magical schools (not Hogwarts, i hadn't yet discovered it), i dreamt of adventures fighting the shadows of the world and of being a lost boy. The In-Between though, dates back to the begining of me writing. In primary school, we had a personal notebook for when we were bored, and i started making my own world in it. That's the very beginning of the paracosm i still hold onto.

❓Would you rather: have your daydreams projected onto a screen attached to your head at all times or be entirely unable to daydream ever again for the rest of your life? The screen! It's not maladaptive anymore, so it wouldn't pop up anywhere anytime. Plus, it's be nice providing free movies for people i love and trust! And maybe i could use the screen like a movie director, and record it to make my own little movies! It's certainly be easier than trying to write it all down!

🪞 What para of your is most like you? Paraselves/self-inserts don't count! Probably a mix of Viaris and Lilly! I'm very artistic and jittery and flamboyant like Vi but also when I was younger I was literally a younger version of Lilly (didn't notice at the time-)

🏷️ How do you come up with names? Do they come to you or do you spend hours on websites? Sometimes they come to me, but it's quite rare! Most often I look at generators or websites until one rings right! For the main cast for example, Viaris came to me, the others i had to look.

🗺️ Do you do extensive worldbuilding for your paracosm? If so, what are some of your favorite elements? I do! I'm currently trying to sort that information and write it down actually! I coudn't really choose favorites right now though to be honest

🪽 If your paras found out you were their creator, how would they react? Viaris: Step 1: existential crisis. Step 2: dang that's cool, someone made me, so I have to be wanted! (yes he needs therapy) Nikolas: That boy would never be the same. His entire view on reality and purpose would be shattered. Lilly: Freaked out. As in, why the fuck would the equivalent of a god be so close to its creation, this feels parasocial Brue: Probably would find me a bit lame/weird for having that as a solution, but would do her best for me to feel supported Harvel: Would feel like he just got out of the cave from Plato's allegory. Would think they're taking it well, they're not, they're having an existential crisis.

🦦 If you have a self insert/paraself, how similar are they to you? Pretty similar! Braver, more reckless. And, well..; not stuck in a static human body-

🕐 Is there any time of the day where you can't/don't daydream? The morning! It can't be the first thing I do after making my coffee- however I can write about it first thing in the morning, just not daydream in itself for some reason. I think it's because I love calm chill mornings so much and even if my daydreams are chill/slice of life sometimes, I move a lot when I daydream, so it doesn't really fit the vibe X)

📜 Are your daydreams linear and structured, or do you jump all over the place? Pretty structured! The jumps are more of a "in the meantime, with X character(s)" kind of thing, but even if there's flashbacks and all it's pretty linear and organised despite me improvising the whole time

🎶 What's a song you've been daydreaming to lately, and what's your favorite moment in said daydream? I've been daydreaming to "Labour - the cacophony" by Paris Paloma. Always for revolts of opressed people, often queer (or queer coded) or feminine people (like the fae or shapeshifters) That song and the feminine rage I feel while listening make me shiver everytime, it's such a powerful song

🐣 Do your paras age with you, or are their ages static? They age with me! And we have a whole history together, we grew up together pretty much! When I include fictionnal characters that I got to know younger, they aged with me too. I don't really think about it much, but if I met them for example 3 years ago, they're aged too since then.

🚀If you had the opportunity to leave this world and live in your paracosm forever, would you? Why or why not? I'm very torn, because this world and these people have been with me for around 10 years, b ut I've found great people in this verse and I'd feel bad abandoning them… I'd rather just float in between them, since the in-between is linked to all worlds theoretically.

🏃 Do you move a lot when daydreaming, and if so, in what ways? I walk (unless I'm in a moving vehicule, as the world already moves around me) and gesticulate a lot, as well as make faces and mouth things.

🎬 Have you ever wanted to make a piece of media of your paracosm (comic, animation, visual novel, novel, tv show, etc.)? I'd love for an animated series and a book series to be made!! But also I could never look at any criticism, not matter how constructive and kind, because it's too much of my baby

💫 When you actively want to start daydreaming, what is your mind's process? I'll look at fanarts and tropes and stuff I like on Tumblr or Youtube, put on some music, and usually it comes easy like this!

👻 Do you ever daydream about yourself (not a self insert, just you)? Yes, but mot in the usual way I daydream. It's more when I'm bored waiting, or even lost in my thoughts, where I'll daydream about what I'll do the next day, or when/if I get my dream cottage, what would my day be like, stuff like that. I don't move, I just sit back, and music isn't necessary for those.

🧱 When you experience a daydream block or crash, what are things you do to try and fix it (or ways you cope)? Consume series, books, movies, animatics, etc, anything that I love and inspire me! I don't usually look at prompts or tropes like usual though. And if it's still blocking, I'll try to discover a new thing I'll love, and that usually gets me out of it. Otherwise, now that it isn't maladaptive anymore, I just do other things (even if I miss my paras, they'll be there when I'm unblocked ❣️)

📖 For fictparacosms, do your daydreams affect how you perceive the media and/or the fandom? The In-Between being in between worlds, I sometimes mix it with some characters and worlds from things I like, so while it's not quite a fictparacosm, I'm still answering this ^^ Yes it does. I'll usually seperate my version and the canon one, as like, an alternate timeline yk? That's the best way I've found, as that way I can enjoy both my daydreams and the source, no matter how different or what happens!

💅 If you have tried to make your paras in character makers (picrew, meiker, etc), what is an aspect of your para that these makers never/rarely have? The colorful glowing tattoos the Bitweenians get when they get "adopted" by the in-between!! There's sometimes tattoos, but they're always in back ink TwT Still looks good, but not quite my vision

👁️ Are your daydreams clear in your mind's eye? Yes! Like a movie/series! Sometimes animated, sometimes live-action!

[sumire-no-nikki]

A Matter of Time

At the end of July I was gripped by a sudden fever.

It was the last Sunday of the month. I woke up quite late, had my morning coffee and set up the day’s work on the floor table. It was a very Summer Sunday. The air felt stale on my skin, constantly at the precipice of breaking out into sweat but not quite. It was a helpless time, a dull headache of a day.

I had been in the midst of organising my iMac, Macbook and a new SSD that day. I was facing the renaming and copying of hundreds of folders. It was quite a tedious task and I was restless. I needed a fix. And the thing is I knew exactly where I was headed that day. My imagination always gets the best me, and an idle mind is the devil's workshop, so they say. Reaching out to untouched corners of the past always requires some level of feigning ignorance to the consequences. I knew well enough that I would unravel something but my boredom overrode all discipline, all sense that day. So I found myself meandering through old folders filled with a past version of myself and people I knew in that unrecognisable life. Well, there has to be a truth to it—to the idea that the universe will continue to hurl the same lessons your way, each instance a more violent encounter, unless you learn from it. That Sunday came the final lesson.

Inside a folder named "2019," I found her waiting for me. My dear K, memories of her frozen there like no time had passed. There were screenshots of conversations, photos I recall having sent her. Seeing all of those again was the catalyst for Sunday’s foolhardiness.

I looked her name up, I looked her sisters’ names up. Nothing but old Facebook comments came up and there really was not much I could do at that point as I don’t use Facebook. This should have been the dead end but I’ve always been stubborn. The only thing it did was empower my craving.

So I dug up an old email correspondence. I’ve been avoiding doing this for nearly three years. With a split second decision I’ve undone all that control. The last message was from 2020 right before the worldwide lockdowns started. I had been talking about returning to Japan and she was talking about looking into getting an iPad. How innocent those days were.

I copied the email address I found and composed an email. In under eight hundred words I wrapped my well wishes, my love, my yearning. “Wishing you nothing but the best,” I signed it. I shut my laptop. I exhaled, only realising then that I had been holding my breath that entire time I was writing the email.

In the first few hours since I sent the email there was a heaviness. The problem is that I could not tell if what I had committed meant an end or a beginning. Have I truly mended the fraying edges, given myself closure, or have I ripped open a new wound instead?

Sometime during the following week my ever so efficient iPhone decided to notify me of the fact that I had sent the email a couple of days ago and I had not heard back. It prompted: “follow up” with a button on the top right as if it were that easy. I panicked. I was in a hurry to make it disappear from the screen. I swiped it into oblivion. I would not let myself read it again. In the end it was sad to see it there at the top of my inbox. I suppose that was the moment when I finally understood the reality that our friendship really has missed the last train for good.

It is funny to feel all this longing now because my friendship with K had been a terribly chaotic one.

I remember K as fun, emotionally sensitive and a daydreamer. I enjoyed the memes, the mindless jokes. I enjoyed her sisters always having a funny thing to say. I enjoyed the video calls. I’ve never fit in anywhere but they welcomed me in their circle. I was the honorary fourth sister. I appreciate that when I would be blocked by the loops of logic in my head K would point to my heart and ask about what that part of me had to say. She showed me a side to life that I had often written off. When I was so lost in the grind, never satisfied with the heights I climbed, she underlined the magnitude of my early emancipation, my scholarships and educational accomplishments. In those days I was never enough for myself, but for K I was everything. “You’re my star, my claim to fame,” she always told me. I let her read my honours thesis before anyone else. She tuned in to my undergraduate graduation livestream because I was giving the department valedictorian speech and I was going to be awarded the highest honour of the year. I had no one to attend my graduation. She showed up for me.

But she was also jealous, indirect and shortsighted. She seemed most present when I was going through a crisis, revelling at the realisation that I have problems that I can’t always solve. When I shared my successes she was almost avoidant. She came and went as she pleased, leaving me in the dark to wonder what I had done wrong. She had her sisters as allies at the end of the day, while I’m reminded that I will never truly be part of the family no matter how close I got. I couldn’t care less what her educational attainments were, really, but she certainly measured herself against me and I never knew what to do with myself in those moments. She had dropped out after her first year was stuck in a crammed home with an abusive mother, while I found my liberation as I cut my ties with my own toxic family and went on to pursue a post graduate degree. She told me it was hard for her to be my friend because my accomplishments made her feel small. She was three years older and yet she felt like I had done more with my life. She thought I was too perfect. I took it personally. Her words were weapons.

Being from a toxic household myself, I knew to pick up on the unsaid, the passive aggressive. I knew desperation as an instinct and I held on to everything because I know the taste of favour withdrawn. I sought to earn her approval because then I only understood worth as something to achieve. I contorted into shapes that comforted her. I tiptoed around the good things that happened to me, wary to share them. My good news meant bad news to her after all, and that meant she would be less convinced to keep me around, so I thought. And when I did find myself in trouble it almost felt like relief to both of us. I could run to her with this problem: “Look! I’m flawed and hurt! Here’s something bad that happened to me! I’ve been knocked down and you can feel superior now!” I begged and begged. That proved exhausting, unjust and cruel. The friendship soured. And when I hit rock bottom, when my life crumbled into an unrecognisable mess, when I needed someone the most, turning to her felt like I was twisting the knife myself. There was shame when there shouldn’t have been. I thought insecurity was a price I had to pay to keep her in my life.

This is not to say that I was an angel during our friendship. I had high expectations and I was ruthless in demanding them. I was hungry for proof that I was loved and needed. I was stubborn, too focused on logic and sense that I refused to give emotions any credit at all. I would not communicate until I was at my boiling point, seeing patience as a duty that must be repaid. I was uncaring, insensitive and I thought fixing someone’s situation is the ultimate expression of love. I was heavy handed, harsh. I was not a fun person to be around.

But perhaps what made it all the more painful is the fact that for all our differences we actually had a lot in common. We understand generational trauma. We both know what it’s like to move to a foreign country. We had the same academic goals of learning languages and we value education greatly. We both love literature, romantics in our own ways. We had a shared dream. It wasn’t a very big one but it was ours.

At the end of the day, I don’t think our friendship would have survived. It was always headed for the cliff and it was just a matter of time.

I recall typing in an email to her near the end: “I welcome what will stay to stay, and I let go of what wants to leave without resistance.” Truth is I was partially referring to our friendship with that line. I had tried everything—I had tried harsh, patient, distant, clingy. Nothing I did seemed to get our friendship to keep its head above water. After many false endings and optimistic new beginnings, by the end of the decade I think we both understood that holding on too tightly solved nothing. We both had gone through transformative events at that point. She lost her step-father in a car accident that she herself suffered great injuries from, while I had just finished my master’s yet found myself more lost than I’d ever been, having landed myself in a psychiatric hold. She was on the way to bettering her life, defeating depression and learning to believe in herself again. And I was finally on a slow path to shedding all the past versions of myself, learning to come as I am rather than needing to be someone. We were individually getting better, it seemed. But I suppose that didn’t mean we would get better together.

Reading what I’ve written here, I feel like I’ve come to really understand that I have been grieving this friendship long before it ended. Here I am missing someone who had hurt me and had hurt in return, I feel all this love for her, for the memories. But she isn’t who she used to be anymore. She’s just a stranger now.

I think about K and how she’ll never know me as I am now. My heart is broken. She’ll never know that I can do latte art now, how my music tastes have evolved. She would never get to meet any of my cats. She’ll never hear of my travels. I won’t be there when she gets her first flat. I’ll never get to watch her violin recitals. I won’t know what her cooking tastes like. I’ll never know if she has new favourite books and if she ever changed her mind about Murakami.

The 2019 screenshots that inspired all of this are of a conversation between K and another person who I hurt deeply--J. I told K one morning that I had a dream about him and that after years and years of regret I still hope for his forgiveness. K stepped up and told me she doesn’t mind messaging J on Instagram. They didn’t know each other but she volunteered to reach out on my behalf anyway. After about a month she showed me the screenshots of J’s response—a rejection, a condemnation, my just desserts. I wasn’t surprised really. I hurt J badly. I realised too late how much I love him. I told K I deserved it. But when I was ready to punish myself all over again, K was the one who dusted me off and picked me back up. She said that people change, situations change, and it could really be a new start for me and J if he would just allow a reunion. She said it’s a shame that for all the love we had for each other, J would not allow for a new beginning. Even though I had made that life altering mistake, K reminded me that I am still worthy of redemption.

Those words mean a lot to me.

After remembering all the petty fights, the immature choices and thoughtless remarks, it is in fact this enduring act of kindness that I choose to remember her by, forever and always.

Thinking about it now, I suppose I had always applied that same sentiment to my friendship with K. I always thought that even though we’ve drifted apart, we could always reconnect and start fresh when the time is right. I held on to the hope without realising it. Weeks after my email to her, there’s nothing but fragments of a thread. The thin and brittle thread we kept trying to salvage seem to finally have disintegrated for good—I see this very clearly now, three years after the fact.

Of course there are so many reasons for her lack of response. The most plausible one is that the email she used then must be one of her oldest ones from her teenage years. It wasn’t even her actual name. She could have lost the password or just never thought to check it anymore as she is now using a more current email. Before we lost touch we were getting quite close. She had some financial issues which I was offering to help her with. And she had even floated the idea of flying to the states for the first time to see me. I offered for her to stay at my place. I told her we’d take a road trip. I could drive her anywhere she wanted. We were doing well. I cannot think of what I might have done to I upset her. I don’t believe I’ve given her any reason for her to cut me off.

But it doesn’t matter now.

Time heals wounds but I suppose it also dulls the strongest of emotions. Maybe she just doesn’t feel compelled to keep me in her life anymore.

I’ve been to the UK so many times now and every single time I’ve thought about taking a train to her. Every single time I fought against that idea. I know for sure now that I’ll never set foot in Coventry. I won’t be the one to destroy her peace. But in future, when I find myself in London or elsewhere again, I will choose to think of K and feel gratitude, to have known her, without needing to blame myself for the way our paths diverged.

The idea of this entry was like a geyser inside me. It came in bursts. I thought I would write and publish this in one sitting. It has taken me nearly 20 days. At first it was guilt, anguish for all the shortcomings. I was hurt by the rejection and the delayed realisation. But I have nothing left to mourn now, I think. All I’ve got now is a celebration of what has been.

With this I lay flowers on the grave of our friendship.

[flirting-with-psychology]

1 I’ve only had two boyfriends. And I’ve only kissed two people. 2 I’m really picky about everything. 3 There isn’t a single thing that I wouldn’t over-analyze. 4 Every time I’m on the computer, I’m on Tumblr. 5 My biggest fear is that I’ll look back on my life and feel like it wasn’t even worth it. 6 I don’t know how to change that. But I’m trying anyway. 7 I still don’t drive but I hope I’ll have a car by the beginning of 2011. 8 is my favorite number. 9 Jersey Shore has to be one of the best reality shows ever. 10 If I had to marry a girl it would be Rihanna or Lady Gaga. 11 I have spiderbites on the left side of my lip. 12 My hair is dyed red. 13 I can’t wait until I have enough money to go shopping. 14 Winter is my favorite season. But I quite like Fall. 15 I would love to travel to different countries. 16 I’ve never even left the east coast. 17 I’m not extremely religious but I love my church. 18 I’m very sentimental. 19 It doesn’t take much for something to remind me of someone. 20 My dreams are always really crazy. I like to analyze them sometimes. 21 I’m so glad the new season of House has started. 22 I should really exercise but I seriously lack motivation. 23 I’m constantly using adverbs. 24 When I’m feeling emotional, I like to write about it. 25 I kind of feel lost. Like I’m floating with no direction. 26 I probably worry entirely too much about my future. 27 This winter, I’m going to work on totally changing my wardrobe. 28 I love when I can really get into a song or a book. 29 The amount of Facebook creeping I do is probably not healthy. 30 My nails are always painted black and white. 31 It really bothers me when I make a list and it begins with the same thing so this survey is annoying to make. 32 Purple is my favorite color. 33 There’s a career that I would love but I don’t really know how I’d even get involved in it. 34 I want to be fucking rich. 35 I’d rather live in the city. 36 My parents have been divorced for a long time. 37 I’m a big daydreamer. It affects my life a lot because I wish that I could actually live in the imaginary world I create for myself. 38 I hope that one day, I’ll feel like I’m good enough for someone. 39 Cherry Coke is the best soda. 40 It honestly blows me when people say they can’t tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. But it’s even more appalling when they think Pepsi is better. 41 I’m pretty liberal. 42 I’m really easily annoyed and I can’t even stand people for the most part. 43 I try to find out why I do the things I do and feel the way I feel about everything. 44 I hope one day, I’ll find someone who’s worth knowing everything about me. 45 Honestly, I think I’m an interesting person. 46 But I really don’t like for people to find out that much about me. 47 Lately, I’ve sort of been into making lists. 48 I’ve changed a lot over the years. 49 I don’t regret anything. 50 I think this was mostly for me.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

528 of 2023

1 I’ve only had two boyfriends. And I’ve only kissed two people. 2 I’m really picky about everything. 3 There isn’t a single thing that I wouldn’t over-analyze. 4 Every time I’m on the computer, I’m on Tumblr. 5 My biggest fear is that I’ll look back on my life and feel like it wasn’t even worth it. 6 I don’t know how to change that. But I’m trying anyway. 7 I still don’t drive but I hope I’ll have a car by the beginning of 2011. 8 is my favorite number. 9 Jersey Shore has to be one of the best reality shows ever. 10 If I had to marry a girl it would be Rihanna or Lady Gaga. 11 I have spiderbites on the left side of my lip. 12 My hair is dyed red. 13 I can’t wait until I have enough money to go shopping. 14 Winter is my favorite season. But I quite like Fall. 15 I would love to travel to different countries. 16 I’ve never even left the east coast. 17 I’m not extremely religious but I love my church. 18 I’m very sentimental. 19 It doesn’t take much for something to remind me of someone. 20 My dreams are always really crazy. I like to analyze them sometimes. 21 I’m so glad the new season of House has started. 22 I should really exercise but I seriously lack motivation. 23 I’m constantly using adverbs. 24 When I’m feeling emotional, I like to write about it. 25 I kind of feel lost. Like I’m floating with no direction. 26 I probably worry entirely too much about my future. 27 This winter, I’m going to work on totally changing my wardrobe. 28 I love when I can really get into a song or a book. 29 The amount of Facebook creeping I do is probably not healthy. 30 My nails are always painted black and white. 31 It really bothers me when I make a list and it begins with the same thing so this survey is annoying to make. 32 Purple is my favorite color. 33 There’s a career that I would love but I don’t really know how I’d even get involved in it. 34 I want to be fucking rich. 35 I’d rather live in the city. 36 My parents have been divorced for a long time. 37 I’m a big daydreamer. It affects my life a lot because I wish that I could actually live in the imaginary world I create for myself. 38 I hope that one day, I’ll feel like I’m good enough for someone. 39 Cherry Coke is the best soda. 40 It honestly blows me when people say they can’t tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi. But it’s even more appalling when they think Pepsi is better. 41 I’m pretty liberal. 42 I’m really easily annoyed and I can’t even stand people for the most part. 43 I try to find out why I do the things I do and feel the way I feel about everything. 44 I hope one day, I’ll find someone who’s worth knowing everything about me. 45 Honestly, I think I’m an interesting person. 46 But I really don’t like for people to find out that much about me. 47 Lately, I’ve sort of been into making lists. 48 I’ve changed a lot over the years. 49 I don’t regret anything. 50 I think this was mostly for me.

[goblinselfshippr]

2/2 of me projecting onto a game and character that really isnt that deep (it is to ME) i think this is way longer than the first sorry. (Part 1 here)

PS- if it isn't clear at this point I'm saying that wizard training causes c-ptsd because that cannot be good for your health. So "Delusion" being a prerequisite to Conjuring (I have no idea if this is a "correct" term, I personally take no offense to it, but lmk if you do, I guess). Some evidence: you can summon minions to help fight with you if you choose- which was the main reason I kept Myth when I took the personality quiz instead of switching to Ice (previously my fave school). Now these minions are common enemies in the game like haunted dolls, trolls, and Cyclops (does that have a plural?? Idk) with one main difference: the ones you summon look different from the actual enemies. Most notable is that the minions aren't as big as the actual enemies. There are slight color differences too, but their height is way more noticeable. Cyclops are usually like 2 players tall, but Cyclops Minions are maybe 1.3 players tall.

And yeah yeah yeah its to differentiate between the spells. Shut up. We are choosing to ignore reality. ANYWAY.

Conjuration is described as "where shadowy forms of thought become real" and "when imagination becomes too fanciful and whimsical these dreams take on life and run loose." SO LIKE. All the Myth bosses and allies must've been somebody's imaginary friends at one time. It would explain why there are bosses or characters with familiar names but don't quite fit their tales- for example, Apollo is a rooster who fucks your shit UP.

Yes I swear we are coming back around to Cyrus, I can't control how my brain categorizes things. There's not a lot said about his family other than they aren't really there. He's left alone from presumably a young age because his father is some big name battlemage, there's zero mention of a mother figure, and his brother would rather play in a graveyard (also convinced Cyrus was afraid of his own shadow as a kid bc I wouldn't put it past Mal to actually summon a demon under his bed). He hides in his room and either paints his daydreams or reads fantasy novels.

Omg he just like me fr except instead of painting I write fanfic that no one ever reads. It’s for my eyes only

From my own experience, you get lonely and bored, and you want friends, but never learn. And his father doesn't sound like the most supportive guy in the world- he seems kind of salty that neither of his kids want to practice Pyromancy like him. So poor Cy was probably just dismissed and ignored and had to go back to his sanctuary.

Cyrus doesn't actually become interested in any sort of spell casting until he's like 18-19, and Mal gets his ass kicked by a Conjurer. Bro really said "damn I can make my daydreams fight for me?" And just did that for the rest of his life, LOL. Wish that were me.

Cyrus is (admittedly) not the best teacher. Like, yeah, he's a dick but most people can think of at least one teacher in their life that everyone called an asshole that they eventually grew to appreciate even if it wasn't personally true. Cyrus, on the other hand, straight up begs you to leave him alone (same). Like the only time he speaks to you is when you irritate him enough or he suddenly remembers you exist. And I'm pretty sure at one point he even tells you he forgot you were in his class. -1000/10 teacher. Problematic fave. I would either hate him or only like him because he leaves me the hell alone. So what is he doing if not dutifully teaching his students?

According to his about page, enjoying the quiet or researching. Doubt. But then, daydreaming until you summon something could likely count as research for Myth. So yeah I think the reason why he's a massive douchebag is because he found a way to profit off his maladaptive daydreaming, and the only downside is he has to tell a couple of kids to scram every now and then. I guess I could have just lead with that. Rip.

[justtryingtolosesomeweight]

I have been trying to vent the past two days but my laptop crashed and my arm hurt so fucking bad last night I had to stop. I have chalked it up to that I spend too much time writing and I should cut it down to half an hour. Sounds like a lot but it really isn’t for me since all I have is time to waste complaining. I’m sure those thoughts I wanted to express will show up again another time.

I have pushed off my homework again... I’m acting like a fool. He even offered half credit if I did it yesterday and I thought about it until 3 a.m. where I had to give up to go to bed. But that was a conscious decision because it was just too addicting to listen to music and think all day. There must be something wrong with me. I’m always like this regardless of whether I eat enough so maybe it’s my best interest to talk to someone. Ah, but I don’t want to talk to anyone unless I’m thinner than this. Maybe at 145 I’ll reward myself by making an appointment with a counselor. Or whenever I gain the confidence.

I want to talk forever but my wrist is fucking flimsy. That I should really see someone for. It just hurts, I’m sure it’s some preventable thing but every time I want to write or draw it acts up. Maybe it wouldn’t be so if I learned to shut up once in a while. I see other vent blogs and most posts are a sentence or two. Mine are quite the opposite. I hope that I learn to quiet down soon because that means I’m spending less time just writing instead of doing something useful. Not that I do anything useful though. At any rate, I have such long posts. It makes me wonder what’s going through the head of someone who has a vent blog but often just posts “I want to die.” or “I ate this. I feel awful.” Come on, everyone, be like me and overshare on the internet. Lol. That’s not really safe all of the time so keep your brevity. Me, I never talk much of anything that’s important.

Ah, my head is aching a little, had an awful time sleeping. I didn’t even take my magnesium even though I keep it right next to my bed. Last night’s thinking session was intense. I couldn’t focus on anything else. It’s not good, it’s really just a waste of time but I think if I spin it as “if I don’t lose weight fast, none of this will happen” I’ll feel a lot better. Sorry, school, under eating takes priority as my one passion. Anyone else daydream but only imagine themselves as skinny? I mean, I know what I look like but it doesn’t show up. Although I see myself through my own eyes so when I look down I see flatness. Definitely not my reality.

Only fifteen more minutes of talking remain. What did I want to say? I guess not much. Limiting myself seems to be saving my wrist. Will I have the energy to do my homework. Probably not. I want to say maybe if I lose like twenty pounds in this month and the next they might catch on but who knows? Most people tend to be kind when grading me since I do kind of be a mess every day.  I wonder what it feels like to wear one layer and be confident. I wonder what it’s like to not hunch over and feel ashamed for existing in public. So maybe my head hurts but it’s not like it won’t be worth it. Let’s see about that though. Approaching the end of week 1. I feel alright about proceeding. Must not give into the same temptations I face every day. Honestly, I’m overthinking this. It’s easy if you don’t think about it.

I want to apologize for being long but instead I think I’ll just add a note in my pinned that I will never not write a long ass post. Forgive me if you came to suffer in a moderate amount of words. Or I could make a personal tag... something unique so it doesn’t show up when you look up vent or something. One minute left... what’s a good tag? Hmm. Well, you’ll see when I figure one out. You know, I’ve really been into Neru’s Abstract Nonsense and I think it would be very funny of me to have a long ass tag.

[cookieisnotameal]

ATL - All Time Low

For the past several months, since the start of the year really, my wife and I have been having a pretty significant mental health crisis. It’s funny how these things creep into your life. What feels like a gentle grasp at your throat quickly turns into a chokehold on your daily life and the next thing you know you’re spending most of the day either sleeping or avoiding any kind of responsibility that might force you to leave the house. Worst part is, it’s comfortable. You know on some level that this isn’t healthy, isn’t living. Fuck it’s barely functioning. But it’s comfortable and that makes it even more difficult to admit out loud that there is a problem that needs to be addressed. You’re still alive after all. You still eat. Maybe. Most of the time. The electricity is on. You’re safe. Warm. Your base needs are met so it can’t be that bad…right? Then reality pays a visit when you realize you haven’t taken out trash for a week and there are things squirming on the floor. When you haven’t been doing laundry and you slept so late that the dog decided to use your towels to relieve himself all over them. When the prospect of cooking becomes too much of an effort so you Doordash for the third time today because you just don’t have the energy. When you don’t pick up your meds. You should have. You had enough money to do so. But that would mean putting on pants, getting in the car, and talking to people and that’s too much right now. It's not that you never try to crawl your way out of the pit. You have a good day, or even just a desperate day, and you manage to get up and get a few chores done. Enough to make your environment slightly more livable. It feels good. Hopeful. You can catch a glimpse of sunlight and you start to feel like you can make it all the way out if you just put in the effort. And yet a week later you’re staring at the same problems slowly getting worse because you spent all the energy you had trying to make it better and you ran out of spoons again. I like the spoons analogy. It’s a simple metaphor for a significantly more vast and complex problem. It makes sense and it’s easy to explain to others when they don’t quite get (or don’t really want to listen to a lecture) about all the chronic mental health issues I’m dealing with. Lately, I’ve been telling people “It feels like I’m cleaning the same spoon every day.” The truth is I’m having more and more days where I don’t even both to clean the spoon anymore. I decided to start this blog for myself. I know it’ll probably trickle in a little bit of attention. It’s a mental health blog on tumblr for fucks sake. At the end of the day this is me attempting to help myself keep track of where my head is instead of just using maladaptive daydreaming to avoid thinking about myself. We’re making attempts to improve and I want to be able to look back and motivate myself to keep trying even when it’s hard. Gonna be some heavy subject matter from time to time. I’ll do my best to use trigger warnings and cuts but honestly I’m writing this for myself. I’m happy for anyone else who wants to ride along.

[messers-moony]

Secret Boyfriend | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Lupin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Keeping secrets seem to run in the Lupin family but one of the two twins has a bigger secret than the other can imagine. 

Pitter-patter could be heard inside the Gryffindor Common room. The Scotland weather never really seemed to make up its mind during the period between winter and spring. Nevertheless, it brought a calming atmosphere to the red and gold common room. The five Marauders sat in front of the fireplace, speaking to one another. Remus, Y/n, and Sirius sitting together on a couch. James on an armchair, and Peter sitting on the ground in front of the sofa. 

“So, Little Lupin.“ James drawled, “When are you getting a boyfriend?” 

Remus chuckled, quickly putting an arm around his twin sister, “Hopefully, never.” 

“Maybe I already have a boyfriend, and you lot just don’t know.” Y/n snipped as she elbowed her brother in the ribs slightly, “Oh, come on, paws!” James exclaimed teasingly. 

Paws was Y/n’s Marauder name. Her animagus was a Siamese cat, which resembled her personality quite well if you asked Remus. Y/n was quick-witted, independent, intuitive, curious, and affectionate when comfortable. She and Sirius were known to flirt all the time but recently - meaning a couple of months - they hadn’t done it at all. Perhaps Y/n was actually avoiding his flirtatious remarks. Nevertheless, Y/n’s animagus was a direct correlation with her personality. 

“Yeah, paws, you’ve been neglecting me recently. I’m not too happy with it either.” Sirius added with a fake pout, “Oh hush it, you two. Leave my sister alone. She’s got no hidden boyfriend.” Remus defended, looking at his sister. 

“Right, Y/n?” Remus coughed, and she jumped out of her daydream, “Mhm! Of course.” 

Conversation went on as usual. They began discussing new pranks, but Y/n’s jumper pocket felt heavier than usual, knowing what’s inside. It was a cream-colored envelope with the Black family crest as a seal. Y/n knew more than anyone that Sirius wouldn’t be happy to see the familiar logo, but this wasn’t from his parents. It was from his little brother, and Y/n was anxious to give it to him. So when James, Remus, and Peter went upstairs, Y/n pulled him aside before he could leave. 

“Padfoot, wait.” Y/n called, and he turned back, “What's up, paws?” Sirius queried, turning to face her. 

She sighed and pulled the envelope from her pocket, “Please, read this. It isn’t what you think it is despite the seal.” Y/n stated, handing him the parchment. 

“Where did you get this?” Sirius asked as he opened the packaging, “Regulus.” Y/n’s answer was firmer than expected. 

Nonetheless, the letter inside seemed essential to his fellow Marauder, so he opened it. Inside he was met with his little brother's prominent handwriting. The black ink treaded so seamlessly across the brown paper. Y/n remembered watching him write it at his desk, desperately trying to collect his thoughts while his hand shook relentlessly. She couldn’t do anything but sit from his bed and watch. Regulus needed to do this alone. 

After reading, Sirius slid the letter back inside its packaging, “Well, it’s his fault.” 

“Actually, it isn’t.” Y/n quipped, “Listen, Sirius, Regulus is trying. He really is.” 

“You would know this how?”

“Because we’ve been friends for a long time.” 

“Oh really?” Sirius questioned sarcastically, crossing his arms, “Since when did you and Reggie become so close?” 

“He began tutoring me in third year for Potions.” Y/n answered, “You couldn’t have asked Remus?”

“No. “ Y/n shook her head, “Slughorn wanted Regulus specifically.” 

“Well then. Full moon tomorrow, hope you’re prepared.” Sirius chirped as he began walking up the steps to his dorm, “I’m always prepared.” Y/n replied to essentially no one. 

She sighed. It was apparent Sirius didn’t want to believe what Regulus had written. It would’ve been hard on anyone. But Regulus wanted it to come from him instead of Sirius finding out. Since Y/n’s third year - Regulus’ second year - she felt attracted to him. He always made time for her. It wasn’t until their fourth year when she realized it. In her fifth year, they made it official. Regulus Black and Y/n Lupin were a couple but hidden beneath an invisibility cloak. 

Seventh year wasn’t easy. The upcoming war, her brother's lycanthropy, N.E.W.T.S, and Regulus getting the dark mark. Nothing seemed to be working in her favor. Books didn’t even seem to please her anymore. Her eyes wandered while she began to daydream about anything rather than reality itself. People began to notice how lost the girl appeared. 

Especially her brother. 

Study sessions with her weren’t the same. Some days her eyes would appear glossier than usual as if someone put a coating of lip gloss over them. Maybe they were rimmed with a pastel pink seeming tired and unhappy. The tremors in her hands were hard to ignore as she wrote with her quill. If there’s one thing Remus Lupin was good at, it was being observant; however, there wasn’t time, and he didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. The full moon approaching meant that Remus’ patience tolerance was down to about none. 

There was one thing that brought her clarity. Regulus Black. The Gryffindor common room was always a warm and welcoming atmosphere. In contrast, the Slytherin common room was cold and damp, but it brought her comfort because of the person inside. Y/n padded quietly inside of his prefect hallway, which was beside the Slytherin common. She walked into his bedroom, which was dark. 

No candles lit. Just dark. Regulus always felt comfort in the dark, but it wasn’t dark because of that. It was dark because he was absent. Y/n peered over to his desk, where letters sat from his mother and some cousins. Andromeda seemed to try and reach him, but the letter looked unopened. There was one that caught her eye. It was Remus’ handwriting, and it was from him. It was also opened. Y/n knew she couldn’t stay all night. The full moon was due to rise in just two hours. 

Picking up the parchment, she began to read:

“ To Regulus Black, 

You need to step up. I get it. Sirius has been disowned, but he tries to make an effort. Can’t you see that? Sirius really needs you, and I know that you miss him too. This whole stubborn game of not wanting to talk to each other has gone on long enough. 

I know what it’s like to argue with a sibling, and it isn’t pleasant. Suck it up, swallow your pride and talk to Sirius. You don’t have to ultimately make up, but please, he’s trying. 

From, Remus Lupin. “

Y/n swallowed down her anger. Who was Remus to get involved in their affairs? If Sirius and Regulus didn’t want to interact, that was their problem, not his. It infuriated her. But she didn’t have time to babble around. Y/n pointed her wand at her and became a cat. Perks of her animagus being allowed at Hogwarts, she could roam around freely without suspicion. Quickly she sprinted down to the Whomping Willow, where she was met with her three Marauders in human form. Y/n transformed back. 

“Where were you! I was worried sick!” Remus scolded, “Nowhere, but we need to talk later.” Y/n answered. 

They got Remus in the shack and changed into their animagus forms. A stag, a rat, a dog, and a cat. The dog and the cat had the most interaction with the werewolf. Sometimes the dog and werewolf would cuddle up beside each other, whereas the cat would sleep on its own along with the other two animals. The following day Y/n and Sirius lugged Remus up to the hospital wing. Y/n sat beside him the entire time while the other three went off. Sirius and James were off to Quidditch practice. Peter was off to see his girlfriend in Hufflepuff. 

Y/n tapped aimlessly on Remus’ hand, “M- Morning.”

“Morning, Moony.” Y/n greeted, “How are you feeling?” 

“Phenomenal.”

“Sorry.”

“What did we need to talk about?” Remus questioned, and Y/n tilted her head, “You said we needed to talk before going to the shack.”

“Yes, I did. Um- uh- did you send Regulus a letter by any chance?” Y/n stammered, “I did. Why?” 

“I saw it.” Y/n replied shortly, “You saw it?” Remus repeated incredulously. 

She nodded, “How did you see it?” 

“Regulus and I are friends. Sometimes we hang out in his dorm.” The words seemed like nothing as they rolled off her tongue, “You hang out in the Slytherin dorms? Is that why you always know the password so we can do pranks?” 

“Of course.” Y/n chuckled, “I use my privilege to its advantage.”

Remus began to get up but grimaced, causing Y/n to jump up to help him. Gently she eased him to a sitting position. A new scratch on his cheek and multiple on his arms. It’s evident that the cat and the dog had to stop him. The thin scratches on his arms were a cat's nails. The thicker scratch on his cheek was a dog's nails. Remus looked down at his arms. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/n muttered, “Not your fault, paws. Who was it this time?” Remus asked. 

“Prongs. Apparently, you wanted Prongs.” Y/n answered, and he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you for stopping me.” 

“Anything for my brother.” 

“Just like anything for our Moony?”

Y/n laughed, “Yeah.”

Paws began to tap on his hand again, until a voice echoed through the hospital wing, “Y/n?” 

“Y/n?” The voice called again, and Remus quirked his eyebrow at his sheepish sister, “Y/n!” 

Suddenly a black-haired, grey-eyed, pale figure was beside her. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he had already kissed the top of her head worriedly. Y/n turned pink at the affection and the embarrassment of it happening in front of her brother. Remus coughed, and the male stood straight. 

“Regulus, what a surprise.” Remus retorted, “Didn’t think you’d ever visit me in the infirmary.”

“Remus, please-“ 

“I wouldn’t.” Regulus snapped, “Then why are you here?” Remus inquired. 

Regulus’ hand was playing aimlessly with the ends of Y/n’s hair, “Moony….” Y/n began at a whisper, “Regulus is my boyfriend.”

“This-“ Remus pointed at them both with a laughing smile, “Is funny.”

“Nice prank, paws, but it isn’t going to work.”

Y/n sighed, “It isn’t a prank, Rem.” 

“We’ve been together for about two years now.” She confessed, and Regulus stiffened, “Friends, my ass.” Remus scoffed bitterly. 

“Remus, please-“ Y/n began, “No, please just leave. We can talk about this later when I’m in the right frame of mind. Because if you don’t leave, now I might throw a punch.” Remus replied. 

She sighed and reluctantly left with Regulus trailing behind her. Y/n didn’t want to cry. It was pitiful. Regulus never had a good relationship with Sirius since Hogwarts, yet he didn’t seem to care. Thankfully, after building the Marauders Map, she knew every little crevice and hiding spot. Pulling back a tapestry, she sat down on the cement floor. Regulus doing the same beside her. Hesitantly he pulled his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. 

“This is pitiful.” Y/n chuckled bitterly, “I’m sorry, Reggie.”

“It isn’t pitiful. You and Remus have a close relationship. It’s okay to be sad about him telling you off.” Regulus replied, placing his chin on the top of her head, “Sirius and I are different. Don’t compare you and Remus with us.”

Y/n nuzzled into his chest, “I saw the letter Remus sent you.”

“I- I saw the way he spoke to you, and I’m sorry.” Y/n stated, “I hope he comes around.” 

“I do too, love.” Regulus kissed the top of her head, “ I do too.”

It was quiet for a moment until two figures pulled back the tapestry, “Oi! Get off, little Lupin!” James exclaimed, and Y/n sighed, “Sirius, James, please just leave.”

“What are you doing with my mate's little sister, Regulus?” Sirius interrogated, “Comforting her. She needs me.” Regulus retorted, tightening his grip on her shoulder. 

Y/n stood up and pulled Regulus with her, “Come on. We four need to talk.” 

The four of them walked into a broom closet. It was a quiet walk. Eerily quiet. It brought shivers down Y/n’s spine at how silent the walk was. The tension was so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. The pressure felt like sludge. It was thick and mush. But when Y/n opened the door, the lot of them walked inside. James and Sirius stared expectantly. 

“Regulus and I have been dating since my fifth year.” Y/n began, and Regulus intertwined their hands. 

“Little Lupin!” Sirius exclaimed, “You weren’t lying when you said you had a secret boyfriend!”

“You scandalous little thing!”

“I can’t believe this.” James stated after running his hand through his hair, “How did Remus take it?”

“Not very well.” Y/n replied, “He kicked me out of the hospital wing when Regulus showed up. “

“He’s- He’s not in the right mindset, though. He’ll come to. I know he will. He has to.”

Sirius’ eyes softened, “Moony will come around. It might just take him a minute.” 

“Regulus.” James called, and grey eyes stared at him, “Y/n is a Marauder.”

“I know that.” Regulus interrupted, “She is my little sister as much as she is Remus’” James continued. 

“And mine!” Sirius added, smiling brightly, “Y/n is our little sister. The lot of us depend on her. We can’t, and we won’t have her heartbroken.” James explained sternly, suddenly looking a lot like Mrs. Potter. 

Regulus’ cheeks flushed with pink, “I love her, I really do. I don’t plan on breaking her heart anytime soon.” 

“You’re gonna be my sister-in-law!” Sirius squealed, hugging Y/n forcefully, almost knocking her over, “Oh, little Lupin.” He cooed. 

“You’re all grown up!” 

They laughed, and Sirius kissed her forehead, “Take care of him, will you?” He whispered so only she could hear, “Of course.” Y/n smiled. 

“Alright, alright, I’d like my girlfriend back,” Regulus replied, taking her away from Sirius’ arms. 

Sirius gulped, “How’s mum going to take this, Reggie?” 

“I don’t care.” Regulus retorted, “Mums gonna have to deal with it.” 

The smile on Sirius’ face was brighter than the sun, “Oh, Reggie!” He wailed, pulling Regulus into a tight hug. 

The two brothers smiled as they hugged each other. Regulus sleeve slipped up, and James stepped back, pulling out his wand. The two Black brothers pulled apart, and that’s when Sirius saw it. The dark mark on his brother's sleeve. Y/n stiffened as Sirius lifted his sleeve up further to see it clearly. 

“Reggie…” 

“Sirius, please, I didn’t want it.” Regulus pleaded, “She- They- Please.”

James watched intently at them. Sirius’ eyes had filled with tears as he embraced his younger brother. For the first time in a long time, Regulus felt protected in his brother's arms. James walked closer and joined them. Hugging both Black brothers as close as he could. James Potter, the man who never stops giving. They pulled apart, and James took Reggie into his own arms. 

“You need anything, you come to me, okay?” James informed sternly, and Regulus nodded, “Ye- Yeah.”

“Remus and Y/n always come for the holidays. You won’t be alone.” James stated smiling, “My parents already have one Black; they won’t mind another.” 

The Black brother smiled, “Thank you….”

The days went on, and Regulus still avoided the Marauders altogether. Remus glared at him from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Deep emerald green eyes were flashing at the grey ones that sat at the Slytherin table. Until Y/n jabbed him in the ribs, taking his attention away from the younger Black brother. 

“Remus.” Y/n scolded, “Stop it.”

“I think you’re too hard on him, Moony.” James began, “He loves your sister. Maybe talk to him.” 

“No.” Remus snapped, “You guys can accept this, but I can’t.” 

They didn’t push any further. Y/n and Remus had been distant from each other. It was weird to watch the twins who were typically attached at the hip to be so - abroad. Regulus didn’t like that he was now the cause of their fussing. After all, they were the reason Sirius and him were on speaking terms now. So Regulus and Sirius made a plan. It involved them being locked in a broom closet, and so it happened—one night after dinner. 

Remus was shoved into a cupboard, not by his own liking either, “Come on, Sirius! This isn’t funny. I have prefect duties to do!”

“Actually, someone else has taken them over.” Regulus informed, and Remus whipped around, “What are you two doing here?”

“Remus, explain it to me.” Regulus began, “Why you don’t approve of me with your sister.”

“Because! You’re a bloody death eater! You probably forced her to be with you.” Remus exclaimed. 

Y/n scoffed, “A pureblood forcing himself with a half-breed? Doesn’t seem likely.” 

Remus ran his hand through his hair, “Okay, he’s still a death eater!”

“I was forced!” Regulus exclaimed, “They strapped me to a chair and embedded the mark into my forearm. You don’t think I wasn’t thinking of her the entire time?! I was scared out of my mind!”

“The entire time, all I could think about was ‘How is Y/n gonna take this.’” Regulus admitted, “My heart aches for her. I didn’t want her to be scared.”

Remus’ green eyes turned soft, “Does she accept you? Does she love you? Do you love her?”

“Yes, Remus. I love him for who he is. James offered him a place to stay at the Potters.” Y/n replied, “And yes, I love her.” 

Tears filled her eyes, “Remus, please. I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Remus held out his arms, and she walked right into them. He placed one hand on the back of her head and one on the small of her waist. Holding her close to his heart, rubbing his thumb through her hair. Regulus’ grey eyes stared at the two siblings before him. Remus’ heart softened at his crying sister. He never wanted to hurt her, ever. 

“Paws.” Remus began as he pulled away slightly, “Does he make you happy?”

Y/n sniffled and nodded; Remus wiped her cheeks, “Okay.”

“Does he know you, for you?” 

“Mhm.”

Remus turned to Regulus as Y/n parted with him, “Where’s paws favorite place to be scratched?”

Regulus chuckled, “Behind her ears.”

“Take care of my little sister.” Remus pleaded, “Please, Regulus.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t expect any different.” Regulus answered. 

Remus walked forward and put out his hand. Hesitantly Regulus shook his hand. Grey eyes met green ones. Remus couldn’t help the smile that placed itself on his face. Without hesitation, he pulled Regulus into a tight hug.

“Take care of my sister, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Always.”

[yourwitchmama]

Signs You Are an Earth Star Soul

A lot of people think earth souls are under evolved and not spiritual, but that’s not true at all. Fairy elementals, earth angels, many deities and spiritual masters are all from earth, and everyone has the potential to embrace their full power, we just can’t a lot of the time because of the state of our current society.

Our society suppresses information about how powerful, psychic and good people on earth actually are. There are a lot of different earth spirits, and they’re very common traits because… they’re the most abundant on earth. But everyone is divine and special, even if we are suppressed and lied to that we are not.

The Ashtar Command are futuristic humans, where they never experience war or the same kind of greed. They seem evolved because they have no limits and have access to knowledge and truth.

I put four categories below to help organize the main kinds of earth souls. This is not the entire list, but the most common.

Fairy elemental soul traits:

-I am emotional

-I am a little bit dramatic

-I am hot headed

-I am mischievous and fun loving

-I have a strong urge to protect the environment

-environmental struggles cause me physical pain

-I am not fond of the attitudes of most humans

-I am passionate and caring

-there’s nothing I like more than dancing in the rain or laying in the sun

-I love crafts, especially when it comes to making or building things

-I love shiny and sparkly things

-I am very creative

-I have a sweet tooth

-I have dreams where I can fly

-I intuitively know the medicinal and metaphysical properties of crystals and herbs

-I love plants

-I am funny

-I like herbalism

-when others are being too serious, I feel like laughing or poking fun

-I prank people/like pranks

-I believe in the power of energy healing, especially through music

-I love to dance

-I feel rebellious

-I love animals

-I can see orbs

Earth Angel traits:

-I am an empth

-I am overly sensitive and an introvert

-I am a light worker

-people see me or describe me as pure or young

-I always try to find solutions to problems to help other people

-I am interested in being a therapist/nurse/counselor

-I feel that I am here to help other people

-I don’t like asking for help because I don’t want to be seen as selfish

-I am insecure in relationships because I am always trying to see if my partner or friend is mad at me/isn’t telling me something

-People are drawn to me

-I often hear the phrase “I have never told anyone this before, but…”

-I constantly see Angel numbers

-Changing is spiritually significant for me

-I try to see the silver lining in every situation

-I am gifted in art, music, and healing

-My time management isn’t the best

-Other people’s pain is my pain

-I do not like conflict, and I do not know what to do with myself when I am angry

-I have trouble staying grounded and I feel limited or heavy in my body

-I daydream a lot

-I have a mental illness/trauma

-I am sensitive and uncomfortable in busy places/crowds

-I get overwhelmed by sounds and visuals easily

-I am religious or very spiritual

-I have a strong sense of purpose, even if I do not know what that means for me.

Multidimensional Earth Soul Traits:

-I love caves

-Geology interests me

-People describe me as strange

-I am quiet

-I feel like I would be better friends with Bigfoot than anyone else around me

-I like everything to do with mysteries

-underground societies and underwater cities intrigue me

-I am smart

-I am interested in the mandela effect

-I feel like I’m from earth, but not the same earth everyone else is from

-I have memories from this life that never happened

-I experience time differently than those around me

-I am always looking for people who experience life like me

-I love to write and/or create my own realities through art

-I am interested in how everything works

-I am a deep thinker and come up with good, original ideas

-I have heard “that didn’t happen” quite a lot in conversations with friends/family

-I can see or taste music

-I can connect with dead people

-I love being alone

Human soul traits:

-I am a healer

-I have arguments and solutions for a better society

-I participate in events/try to change the world politically

-Rhythm and music is deeply spiritual and/or motivating for me

-I love walking around barefoot

-I am a philosopher

-I love games and laughing

-I am ambitious

-I love relaxing

-I like to create

-I am into technology and computers

-I am interested in history/science

-I like to hang out with friends and family

-I get along with most people

-I feel the need to help other people/plants/animals

-People sometimes describe me as “normal”

-buildings and structures interest me

-Ambient sounds of people is relaxing to me (I.E. restaurants, the sound of walking, kids playing)

-I work the best in a team

-Relationships of all kinds are extremely important to me

-I am a loyal person

-I enjoy a balanced work/rest week and find it satisfying to do both

-I like the smell of nature and the feel of rain/wind/sun on my skin

-I am deeply connected to my culture and/or heritage

-I am respectful and/or interested in all cultures

-I am a very curious and thoughtful person

-I try to better myself

[justkending]

Everest. Chapter 17.

Series Summary: She was done and retired. After Thanos and after the battle of a lifetime, she had called it quits and had distanced herself from the Avenger lifestyle. But word finds her that someone from her past is in danger. What the journey entails was never one she wanted to face nor one she saw becoming her reality again. The rollercoaster that comes with fighting evil odds arrives on her doorstep not leaving much room for a no…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: Ok friends... This is the LAST chapter. I know it’s semi-without warning, but even I wasn’t sure if this would be the last one until I wrote it. There is much more to this story in my DR, but I felt it was best left here. Who knows? Maybe a second series of it may come up. Could not tell you at the moment haha! But I will be writing an Epilogue when I have the time and mental capacity for it. School is about to start back up for me, so excuse the fact I may be quiet this next month or so. First real year of teaching is coming and I’m slightly terrified😂. Either way! I love you all and thank you for the support on this series. xoxox

Chapter 17:

Having to take transportation outside of Stark technology proved that Bucky had become spoiled with convenience and shorter travel times.

There were two flight changes, three bus rides, a cab ride, and a 10-mile walk to Y/N's cottage outside the city parameters.

Luckily, he packed light and had better endurance than most who would attempt the journey.

As he arrived at the same field where he had first met Y/N, he had to stop and admire the beauty of it once again. He forgot just how stunning and dreamlike the place was. Perhaps it felt like a dream to him because he had never imagined a life like this for himself beyond his daydreams.

He stared at the small cottage off in the distance and the stained-glass greenhouse south of the house. He could hear the clucks and quacks of farm birds as they wandered freely.

The sky was a bright blue, lightly dusted with clouds as the sun was setting in about an hour. He squinted some at the sun coming out from behind a cloud and looked toward the front door of her home as he approached in the distance.

It was closed. There wasn't any sign of Ryker or her so far. Yet again, he remembered her saying she liked to forage and venture the land in her spare time if she wasn't gardening, reading, or taking on a new project.

Slowly making his way to the cottage, he continued to analyze his surroundings. It was quiet. But not have-your-guard-up kind of quiet. No, it was the exact opposite.

It was peaceful. He knew that in her time there, she had never had anyone infiltrate the peace besides their surprise visit. So a piece of him knew that they were safe here. At least as safe as it can get in this world. He continued to scan the area, hoping to see the homeowner, but there was no sign of human life anywhere. Only farm animals.

Speaking of...

In the distance, he heard a horse neigh followed by a low moo. Had she upped her number of pets?

Deciding his best chance to find his answer was to venture closer to the house and hopefully find someone to ask his question to.

"Y/N?" he questioned, approaching the door, seeing that most of the windows in her house were open. Some panes shared a peek at the curtains inside as they blew out when a light breeze filled the home.

He knocked, but no response. Instead, the door opened, showing it was unlocked and unlatched. He knew he shouldn't be worried, but the habit of the job kicked in, and he started considering the troubles that could arise.

He remembered what she was capable of and how she had kept this part of her life safe from the outside world. She knew magic in ways Bucky's mind couldn't fathom, and the likelihood of someone finding her out here, if she didn't want them to, was close to none unless you happened to be a neurosurgeon/ wizard.

She had to be out and about. It was a lot of land from what Bucky had gathered.

Now, the next question was, should he go in or wait on the porch step? He was going to go for the latter decision, but he heard a high-pitched whistle. One that was piercing and angry as it screamed.

He crossed the threshold into the kitchen to see the noise maker. A tea kettle was left on low heat but whistled to show its contents were boiling.

That shouldn't worry him, right?

He turned it off before deciding to investigate further and quietly went to the living room. In the corner, the sounds of a song he recognized danced with the warm breeze coming from one window and flowing to the opposite. A vinyl was spinning on an old vintage record player in the corner. The piece of equipment was in mint condition for its age. All the detailing and added antique features made it a perfect set.

He never got to take a look at the place the first time he came. I mean, to an extent, he analyzed the hell of it, as a spy does when entering a new place, but he didn't know the person living in it to match every detail to then.

Now, the hanging plants and herbs from the ceiling made sense. The mixed-match furniture and warm, soft colors added up. The environment that she had created overall was something similar to the feeling of being in the arms of someone you trust to keep you safe and protected. The feeling of entering a warm, fire-lit coffee shop where you could sit and read for hours, knowing somehow that nothing bad could happen while you were there. The entire house emanated a sense of calm, security, positive energy, and serenity for every visitor who entered.

He walked around the open space and looked at the antiques and pictures that lined the bookshelf that took up the entirety of the wall.

Pictures of her and Marley were on the mantel. Pictures of her and the team outside of the compound, enjoying normal life, were scattered here and there. One with her and Wanda jumping into a lake with Nat and Steve already in the water below. Another with Steve asleep on a plane and Nat pointing at him with a silly face gracing her features. There was even one that looked to be taken in the mid-1900s, where she was accepting an honor from someone at a university. The eras and casualties of the pictures fluctuated.

He was so zoned in on the details that fed more information about the woman he had gotten to know that his guard fell. The space made it easy to do so.

"Do you normally just wander into little farms in the countryside of Europe?"

The voice shocked him out of his hyper-focus, and he jumped slightly, turning fast.

"I'm getting good at this, scaring the Super Soldier thing," she grinned, leaning against the banister between her living room and kitchen.

"Probably the only person I'll allow to get decent at said thing," he had to chuckle, turning to look at her on the other side of the room.

"Don't worry. Sam will always try," she winked, standing straight and walking down the two steps into her main room, and coming around the couch that sat between them. She wore a ruffled skirt with what looked like layers of lace and a brown tank top covered in a knitted cropped sweater. Her feet were bare, but he noticed a simple golden anklet around her ankle that matched the gold accent jewelry littering her hands and neck.

(Ignore the shoes and most of the jewelry)

"Seemed to find the place easy enough," she nodded to his shoulder where his backpack stayed secure on one side.

"Photographic memory," he tapped his temple, shrugging the bag on as a nervous tick.

"Ah," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest now in front of him. "Blessings and a curse."

He nodded with a tight grin, showing he knew what she meant. Before Bucky could ask any of the multitude of questions he had lined up for her, he heard a faint bark in the distance.

"Oh, God. The poor guy is still adapting to the new friends," she rolled her eyes and twisted her gaze to the back mudroom he had entered past the kitchen. "Wanna meet 'em?"

"Friends?" Bucky asked, confused, following her stare.

She laughed and motioned for him to follow her, telling him to leave his backpack on one of the chairs.

When turning out the mud room door, there was a beautiful white horse colored with variations of shades in brown spots in a way he had never seen before. It was tied to a post hidden behind some floral bushes.

"Meet Zazu," she announced, walking over to pet the snout of the large animal.

Bucky smiled up at the tall animal and chuckled some. Ryker gave an excited bark at the old friend and jumped on Bucky before Y/N could reprimand him. He followed her command quickly after but stayed close to Bucky's side as they looked over the new pet.

"Zazu?" Bucky looked at her with a smirk as the horse snorted in response to his name.

"Someone I know may or may not have been my reasoning for the name," she shrugged.

Bucky nodded with a smile, knowing exactly who she was talking about. He never had horses in Wakanda. His livestock mainly stayed with goats and sheep, but the horse seemed friendly and well-mannered. But it showed its attitude when it shook his head, whipping his mane to slightly hit Y/N.

"Ok, ok," she responded with a laugh. "You're free for the rest of the night. Don't get into any trouble without me." She took the reins off the horse, and he walked freely out into the pasture to graze where Bucky noticed a cow and a calf grazing already. 

She turned back to him and brushed her hands off the dirt. "Well, I know you're not here just to watch me talk to my pets and sneak around my house," she sighed, placing her hands on her hips. "We can go back inside and get the fun stuff sorted."

Bucky nodded and followed behind her as she made her way back to the cottage. Coming into the kitchen, she noticed the tea kettle was hot but not burning.

"You left it on, so I turned it off," he pointed to the pale green floral-painted kettle.

"I'll be honest with you, I forgot I left it on. I was out getting the new cow and calf in the field over. They had wondered further than I'd like," she mentioned. "Luckily, I have a spell on the place that keeps it from natural disasters. Self-made ones included," she hummed before moving through the kitchen, much like last time.

She went to get mugs, grabbed a few tea bags, stopped at the fridge to get creamer, and poured both of them a cup. At the same time, Ryker found his spot on his bed by the island in the center of the room and laid down, quickly dozing off.

Once they both had a mug in hand, it went silent beside the record, still softly playing in the background. Y/N broke the silence as she stirred the contents of her tea for the fifth time.

"I'm sorry." He looked at her, confused. "The fight we had that day I left the compound," she explained, looking up from her steaming tea. "I-I wasn't leaving to hurt anyone..."

"I know that wasn't the case," Bucky affirmed.

"Yes, but I still feel awful about it," she sighed, placing the mug on top of the terracotta tiled island.

Bucky moved from the opposite end he was standing by and came to where only the corner of the counter separated them.

"I get it now. I mean, it stung, but I get it," he bent his head like he had that night to see her eyes better. "I don't hold any anger about it anymore. Hell, I don't think I ever really did."

"Disappointment hurts more than anger sometimes," she mumbled, scrunching her nose at the feelings she knew he had actually felt at the time. She read them as easily as he showed them.

"Maybe, but after it all, I don't hold any of those emotions still. You were doing what you felt was best, and who am I to determine if they're right or wrong choices?" he shrugged, leaning against the counter in a relaxed manner.

"Everyone is entitled to their opinion on something. That's the thing about opinions; they aren't right or wrong," she tilted her head back and forth as if weighing her words. "Either way, you were a kind and loyal friend to me when I was there, and it wasn't right to keep you in the dark when I knew I could trust you."

Those last four words hit him harder than she likely meant. But the look in her eyes showed she had said it for a reason.

"Although it's not necessary, apology accepted," Bucky replied with a soft smile, and she returned it. "I do have one question, though." She hummed for him to continue as she sipped her tea, feeling better about it all now due to his genuine response. "If you left so much earlier than we did, how come we showed up first?" he asked.

She looked at him and bit the inside of her cheek.

"I came home to get ready to go, and on the flight here, when I was reading the research, I realized some inconsistencies with Stark's plans. It didn't take me long to figure out his true intent of finding the serum. I had to rewire everything in my strategy on how to attack the facility. And I hadn't planned on Anthony being stupid enough to jump on the case as fast as he did," she answered, leaning on the counter with her hip and crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at the ground. "He was anxious to get in and do what he thought needed to be done, but he was missing key details he didn't realize that I had. Like what the facility actually was before busting in, guns blazin' with a plan that was as beneficial as using Raid on Loki."

Bucky took in the information and didn't have to second guess it all. It made sense. Tony hadn't been prepared for anything they had actually gone up against, and Y/N seemed to get through the facility like it was a maze she had maneuvered through a hundred times before.

"I almost told you," she mumbled. Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, turning his gaze back to her. "That morning in the kitchen, you were trying to convince me to stay. I was seconds from telling you everything." She let out a bitter laugh. "Never in my life have I had someone-." There was a pause as she collected my thoughts. "There's a type of comfort and trust I have with you, Barnes, that I don't think I've experienced with many people in a long while. I mean, of course, I love the team, and they all have a piece of me like that, but I was surprised how easily and effortlessly I found it with you as well."

He wanted to ask what she meant, but she continued before he could.

"I know you struggle seeing it in yourself, but you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. It takes a kind soul for me to find that kind of trust in, and even with the hell you've endured, you've managed never to let that piece of you die."

Why? Why was she telling him all this?

"You deserve to know and hear these words, Buck. Every day for the rest of your life, you deserve to know that you never let anyone truly break you, even if it felt the opposite more times than not," she smiled, placing a hand on his arm and a spark of appreciation and admiration filled his body.

"Y/N," he started, and she shook her head.

"Someone needed to say it and make sure you believe it. I needed to make sure you believed it," she squeezed his arm before pulling her hand back, and he'd be lying to himself if he wished she'd keep it there forever. "Anyway, you came here with a message," she adjusted her stance and changed to business mode. "What did Banner find out?"

How she could go from making his insides melt and close to bringing honest tears to his eyes after such a kind compliment to back to the business, he wasn't sure, but he would make sure to revisit it when given the chance. Something in her eyes told him she needed to move on for a second anyway.

Bucky cleared his throat and opened the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out the index card Bruce had given him inside a hidden pocket before gently offering it to her.

She took it and saw the side that had a grocery list written down. She laughed lightly at it and turned it over before walking toward the living room. Bucky followed behind her a few steps as she looked over the paper.

"Makes sense," she nodded, going over the foreign language as Bucky had read it. He knew he'd need a doctorate and possibly a second brain to decode the content of numbers mixed with letters and symbols. "Ok. Done and done."

She walked up to the fireplace and waved a hand over it, making a decent-sized fire erupt within the bricked chamber. In the next second, she threw the paper into the fire and brushed her hands off. As she looked back at him, she saw his face struck with concern at the paper being gone without any form of return for it.

"You're not the only one here with a photographic memory, Sarge," she winked.

Made sense. "Blessing and a curse," he replied with a grin.

"Exactly," she laughed, looking at the flames and then back at him. "Sorry you came all this way to watch me burn a grocery list, but it was honestly the only way to keep that information safe."

"Can I ask another question?" he cleared his throat. "Why me? Why not Nat or Steve? Or Wanda even?"

"Um," she dragged out. "I reached out to everyone after coming home. We had some good long talks about my leaving and such. But I don't know... I felt like I owed you an apology in person. They've known me long enough to understand my reasoning, but you? Call it an itch I can't seem to scratch..."

He smiled. Something about it made him feel special in a way he hadn't in a long time. And he felt the same way about the itch. Something about the woman in front of her kept him coming back for more.

"And correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought you could use a break from the Hero Life. No matter how good you are at it," she smiled, looking at the fire instead of him. "Everyone needs to time away to make a venture of their own." He smiled at that and looked around. "Are you wanting to head back now that your mission is done?" she asked, looking back at him, moving to throw a log into the fire even if her magic could likely suffice for a while on its own.

"I mean, I suppose I should," he responded, semi-disappointed.

"Have another job after this one?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then I don't see why you can't take a short little tour of the place. I can show you the new farm animals and the lay of the land... Only if you're interested, of course," she was quick to follow up with.

He didn't really need to think about it. "A tour would be nice," he smiled after a second.

The two made eye contact once again. She grinned up at him, and he could see the joy on her face from his answer.

"Follow me then."

THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE:)

Everest Tags: (if I missed you in tags, comment on this chapter to let me know:)

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @annazierden

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes​

[herecomesjoon]

Light Jar - Part 1

Pairing Kim Namjoon x Reader Rating 18+ (for the entire work) Genre/Tropes College AU, Friends to Lovers, Idiots to Lovers, fluff, angst, smut Warnings None for current chapter, Cursing, general college bullshit, Joon being big and beefy WC 3392  Crosspost AO3 - herecomessatvrn Summary When you leave your hometown for college, you hope that the distance will be enough to finally rid you of your crush on your best friend. When he transfers to the same university, two years later, immediately, the feelings come back. Now you dance around each other, positive that you two were only ever meant to be friends.  A/N  This started out as a car thought while listening to Escape (The Pina Colada Song)... don't ask. I had one plot in mind, but it sort of evolved from there, and I'm quite please with the way that this is going. I intended for a one-shot, but it sort of got too long, and I found a natural cut in the installments. I am intending for two parts, but who knows. Also, I did try to write this as anything BUT Joon, but here we are. With my 4th Joon fic. I should probably just accept it.

Series Master List Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There are some things that are not set in stone. They change just like the shifting sea. And there are some things that were bound to happen, like the rising and the setting of the sun. It was inevitable that you would fall for your childhood friend.

Of course, when you were younger, still oblivious to the actual realities of a crush and romance, you would have vehemently denied that you would ever like Namjoon. Never in a million, billion years. But here you were, in your finall year of high school, and staring so hard at the back of his dumb head that you could have bored holes through his skull. Your heart ached just thinking about him.

He was so nice, and he made you laugh with his awkward but sincere antics. And he knew you the best of all of your friends. He would offer you his desert from lunch if you were having a bad day. And even more hilariously, he tried to get you to dance with him. Just to move and get the energy out, but he was so awful at it! And you loved it.

Even when people joked about how much you two hung out, you both just laughed it off, and kept to the story that you were just friends. You worked really hard to not betray the panic of being found out. Luckily, you would be leaving your hometown to go off to college, and some distance and time would help sooth this crush that really wasn’t that big a deal. Because the most important thing here was that you and Namjoon stayed friends. You valued that friendship more than any possibility of a relationship.

----------

The first couple years of college flew by, it seemed. And you had made so many friends, and carved out a little spot for yourself in this college town. Sure, being a barista wouldn't get you fame and fortune, but it was something you found that you loved. Your pottery… that could be done on the side. Also, the cafe you worked at loved the stuff you were making and featured your hand made mugs prominently at the register.

You were nearing the end of your shift, cleaning up after the late morning rush that was class change over. It was nice to see the regulars, and not so regulars, come through to get to know them. It was also a bonus that you got to subtly watch all the cute people come through, and you got lost in daydreams quite often, wondering what it would be like to be with them.

Not right now though, no time for that. You had side tasks to get done. You were in the process of running some things back to the dish sink when you saw someone standing at the register, looking at the little packs of pastries you sold from a local bakery. 

“Hey! I'll be right there, just gonna set some stuff down!” You didn’t wait for a response and pushed the back room door open, and you heard the sound of those carefully packed pastries falling to the floor, and several “Oh shit! My bad, sorry! I got it!” A hand waved vaguely in your direction just above the counter as he tried to clean up the mess that he had made.

By the time you had come back out. It seemed that the entire pastry display was sitting out on the counter as the man tried to find the right spot for them. You sighed and rolled your eyes before putting on the customer service face and stepped up to the counter.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it happens all the time.” You started pulling them off to the side to clear the counter. Just another thing to add to the list.

“So, what can I get for you?” You finally look up at the man. He's tall, and broad shouldered. And under the beanie, you can see a hint of silvery hair. He's dressed pretty casually, but in the expensive kind of way. Nice dark jeans and a button up shirt, and the wool coat he wore to protect him from the elements was well taken care of.

“Oh ah, just a latte please, and um…” he looks down at the pile of confections that he had tried to reset for you. “One of these.” He slides a large chocolate chip cookie out.

You’re looking hard at him now. The vague spark or recognition lighting up in your head. Except you had no idea who this was, at least, not until he smiled.

“Y/N?” Wait… last you checked, you didn’t wear a nametag. The dimples popped out, and he ducked his head in an incredibly familiar way.

“HOLY SHIT! Namjoon?!” Forget helping him with coffee, you came out from around the counter and really got a look at him. And as if the last two years of absence hadn't happened, you hugged him. His stiffness of shock dissipated quickly, and his arms wrapped around you as well, holding you tight.

“Fuck, its good to see you! What are you doing here?” Oh no. No. No. He felt like he had spent the last two years in the gym, underneath these nice clothes. This did not bode well for you. And just like that, those old familiar feelings came flooding back, but with the new addition of wow, he’s really hot now.

“I uh, just transferred here. I spent a couple years at a smaller place getting all the basics done. Ya know?” He rubbed the back of his neck, and finally took the beanie off in the warm café. Could he just stop getting hotter, for like a second? You’re supposed to be working.

“You’ve always been so smart, Joonie.” The old name came back seamlessly. “I’m juggling classes for my major as well as the core stuff. I finally caved and took some summer classes to see if I can get ahead.”

The bell above the door signaled another customer coming in, and you shook your head. “Hey, Uh, you coffee and food is on me today. Let me get that really quick, okay?” You flashed a warm smile at him and scooted right back behind the counter to warm the cookie up as well. With your back turned, you made a face and muttered a quiet ‘what the fuck…’ 

You helped the other customer, taking your time with Namjoons latte and put lovely swirls in the drink, and you snapped a quick picture just to add to your collection.

“So…” you began, leaning on the countertop as Namjoon looked at the plated cookie and drink.

“I’ve got class later today, after my shift.”

“...and?” Namjoon leaned in conspiratorially and the dimples popped in his cheeks as he smiled.

“I definitely want to catch up.”

You heard your name from your coworker as she walked in the door, and gave you a quick salute as she kicked the door to the back room open ahead of her.

“Yeah… just tell me when.” Namjoons attention was fully focused on you now. “My number’s still the same.” You knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but you couldn't help but feel bad about not reaching out in the past few years. Especially when you were home for the holidays. 

“WAIT, actually.” You jumped slightly at the outburst. “I broke my phone last month and I have a temporary number until it’s fixed. Its so dumb.” He pulled out a little notebook from an inner coat pocket, and scribbled down his number for you.

You couldn’t hold back the giggle. Apparently he’s still just as clumsy as you remember. Maybe you should have met him at the table he picked out with his drink.

Namjoon actually looked down to turn his attention to his drink. “Huh, I always love looking at the art on the lattes. But this cup is actually great, where do you all get these?”

You adjusted your apron a little and stood up a little straighter. Just a little bit of a preen, as a treat.

“Actually, I made them.”

“No shit?! So you did eventually figure out how to make the cups work, huh?” He chuckled, remembering when you used to make ‘pottery’ out of playground mud. Upset that they never lasted.

“Yeah, I did.” She sighed fondly. You could wander down this path of nostalgia for hours, but your coworker coming out of the back room with a rack of clean mugs pulled you out of the moment.

“I’m really glad to see you Namjoon. I’ll text you later, okay?” He nodded to you, thanking you again for his coffee, and he retreated to his table to get some work done. Another fond smile, and you felt your cheeks burn. You turned away too soon, and didn’t see Namjoon look your way. He was looking at you as if you had hung the moon and stars. Before he settled in to even try his drink, he took a picture, more of the cup, than the artful swirls. 

----------

“Hey, who’s the hottie you were talking to?” Your coworker, Yuna, settled into the routine of a shift changeover easily, and kept her voice fairly low, casting glances over to Namjoon every once in a while.

“Actually, I grew up with him. We kinda lost touch when I came here for school.”

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Okay, so tell me that you all had like, a thing in highschool. Please. Because that would be absolutely perfect.”

“What? No. We were- are just friends. He never thought of me that way.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” The two of you said nothing else on the matter and you went about the rest of your day. You left without saying goodbye to Namjoon, but you fully intended to text him before you went into your studio to work on your upcoming projects.

Of course, you didn’t get a chance to, until it was really late, and you still had at least another hour of work, plus cleanup to get done before you could go home.

Y/N : Hey Namjoon, sorry I didn’t get to you earlier. I’m still working in my studio tonight. Can we maybe do something this weekend? Joonie (TEMP): Thats okay! I had a lot of things to get done with this paper for my lit class. I was a little distracted too. Joonie (TEMP): Have you eaten yet? Y/N: Actually… no.  Y/N: Don’t be mad, I just realized how fucking hungry I am. I might call it early and grab something from the vending machines before I head home. Joonie (TEMP): I’m still on campus. I’ll pick something up and I’ll meet you at your studio.  Joonie (TEMP): I owe you. For the coffee. 

What? No that’s not how this works. It was just a coffee. At the place you work. That was nothing. Hes offering to pick up a whole meal for you.

Y/N: No it’s fine really.  Joonie 💕: Too late. Already done. I assume you’re in the art building? What room? Y/N: Ugh fine. 1043 I’m in studio C there.

15 minutes later, Namjon comes in with two really full bags from the campus quick-stop and you take them from him to sit on the low table that you and your three other studio mates share. You all really try to keep this little lounge area clean, but it was inevitable that some of your work and all of its mess spilled out into the area.

“Uh, you really might wanna hang that coat up over there. Like AWAY from all of this.”

You motioned towards yourself and your studio clothes. Your jeans were caked in clay and plaster. There was some paint on them too, from when you dabbled in painting last year. For the most part, your apron caught all of the fresh stuff. And you left that hanging in your studio space when you saw him walk in. 

“Ah yeah… I like this one. I didn’t think about that.”

He settled in, taking his time to look at all the knickknacks you all had littering this room. The cork board was plastered in notes to each other. Fliers and information about local shows. The whiteboard had what looked like a furnace schedule, he thought at least. Your name was there with a specific date and time, and someone had scribbled flames around it. 

You had already started digging through bags. It seemed he had just guessed at what you would want to eat, but everything that was in there you would probably call your favorite at some point or another. No time to dwell on that. You had already opened some chips and you took a bite out of something… actually, what were you eating? You read the package, shrugged and kept going. 

"You good there?" Namjoon was still looking at everything. What drew his eye the most now was what looked like a stack of mushed plates. Sitting on a shelf over a trash can that contained what looked like the shards of those mushed plates. 

"Yeah," you slowed down now. You dug through the bag, possibly looking for something to drink. No such luck. No worries. You had some cold coffee sitting in the pot by the sink. Good enough. 

“Thanks Joonie. You really didn’t need to.” You leaned against the counter, sipping at the coffee. Shit that was so bad. Maybe a mini fridge would be a good idea here. Between the four of you in that studio, you would figure something out. You finished eating the sandwich in your hand, and crumpled up the wrapper, tossing it into the trash can a few feet away.

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to though.” His expression was soft as he looked over at you. The pair of you made quite the sight. He was so put together and clean looking. You could look like that too, if you really tried, but it was so much work to keep clean at all while still throwing out piece after piece. 

“So, what have you been getting into the past couple of years? Spare no detail.” Namjoon had no idea how his focused attention made you feel. Just like earlier in the day, your heart beat a little harder, your breathing stuttered. 

You spent the next two hours talking and laughing. Feeling like you two hadn’t missed any time at all. You were truly glad he was back in your life. It was better than not having him at all. 

---------

Namjoon had slipped into your friend group comfortably. He was surprisingly very knowledgeable about the arts, and enjoyed running with you and these weird band of people. You also suspected that he was trying to find his place on this new campus, and he knew only a few people, so he latched onto you.

“So Dr. Song wants me to work with other disciplines or something,” you were talking with Jungkook, as you doodled ideas in your sketchbook. “And maybe have a joint show.” You looked up at your younger friend who was nodding along. Also scribbling furiously. He was much better at drawing than you, and he was quick to put his ideas onto the page. 

“So is this like a formal offer here? ’Cos Ron also said something about a multi-discipline show.” You loved that painting professor. Too bad you didn’t click with the whole painting thing.  

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Namjoon was listening and watching the interaction intently. His face was serious though. 

“When you say multi-discipline, how far does that go?”

Both you and Jungkook looked up at him, your eyebrows raised. 

“What do you have in mind?” You already had an inkling of what he was getting at. But you wanted to hear his ideas too.

“I’ve had this thing I’ve been writing, that like, all I want is to see this turned into something more.” He reached and pulled your sketchbook to him. 

“Hey!” He also took your pencil, and he booped your nose with the eraser and also started drawing. He also wrote what looked to be a few lines of poetry.

“Okay I like where you’re going with this, Namjoon.” He let the two of you continue your conversation. Even more ideas flowing between the two of you as you picked at your lunch.

You excused yourself eventually, wanting to go to your studio to play around with some ideas that had come up for you last week. Before you left, you gave Namjoon a quick half hug. JK reached out to you for one as well, and knowing how important skinship was with him, fully embraced him and ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hummed happily.

“See you nerds later.” And off you went.

It was just Jungkook and Namjoon now, and they were talking about the possibility of a painting based on the poem Joon had written. This time Namjoon had shared the whole thing.

“You know she’s gonna need a copy of this whole thing, right?” Jungkook saw the poem for what it was. Longing for a love that could never be, and holding tight to all the small moments that you could. 

“Oh yeah, I’ll definitely email it to her. I just wanted to share this specific part, that I’ve always thought about seeing in like, a physical object. I don’t know.”

He knocked rhythmically against the table, thinking again.

“Weird question, for no reason at all. Has she dated anyone? While she’s been here?”

Jungkook made a noncommittal sound. He was engrossed in drawing. Listening, but not really wanting to talk much. Especially not about the hookups that he knew you had.

“I wouldn’t call it dating so much as a regular or two that she sleeps with.”

“Oh.” Namjoon seemed to shrink in size. His voice quiet.

“How long have you been in love with her?”

“A while. We were kids, I think. It's hard to remember when it started.”

At this, the drawing stopped. And he looked hard at Namjoon. 

“She honestly doesn’t talk much about dating or anything close to a relationship. I’ve always been under the impression that it’s not her thing. She’s always working. On pottery, or at the cafe. I’ve got literally nothing to give you here, other than I’m sorry, man.”

Namjoon nodded slowly. He was familiar with this feeling. Of wanting something, but never being able to keep it. Just like when you were kids, you only ever saw him as a friend, and that would have to be enough for him. 

----------

You were hidden away in your studio. Music so loud that anyone walking in could hear it from your earbuds. This was what you wanted, to block out the world as you got lost in the piles of clay on the table. Being around Namjoon again brought back confusing feelings. An intense love that you weren’t able to shake.

Being around him was like looking at the sun. You had to shade your eyes, but you felt the warmth. You would never get to see it for what it was, but the warmth was enough. Just like being around him again was enough. It had to be enough. 

Still though, you couldn’t help but want more.

The pinch pot you were working on was trying too hard to capture what you had made when you were young and still looked too polished. Too much like you knew what you were doing instead of something care-free. With a growl you smashed the piece against the table, the wet clay squishing out from between your fingers. The frustration had been building in the past week or so, and there was no outlet for it at hand now that you had realized that throwing yourself into your work wouldn't help. 

No, that frustration, that need, was a familiar ache. You rinsed your hands as best you could in the bucket of water at your side and pulled your phone out. Tapping out a familiar pattern that soon would give you some relief. 

By the time you had cleaned up for the evening, your answer had come and you set out to meet up with one of your regular hookups.

Thanks for reading again! Feel free to reblog and leave a comment, or send me an ask! Also let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist for all of my works coming out! <3

[forbidding-souda]

Hey mod Souda ^^ could I request nagito, shuichi, and hajime with an s/o that's pretty much absentminded and forgetful reader? a woolgatherer? (i had to look that up) So they'd daydream of basically anything and you can see it in their eyes when they're... not rlly present anymore lol. But reader still likes feeling their s/o's presence and voice if that makes sense haha

Nagito Komaeda, Shuichi Saihara, and Hajime Hinata with an absentminded and forgetful S/O

what if i became a skater boy what would ya'll do

i ask this as if i don't sskate but srs

currenltly listenign: grotesque marionetts by nothing but losers

-Mod Souda

Nagito Komaeda

❤ He likes to pretend to be absentminded and forgetful. Honestly, it gets him out of a lot of stuff. And he loves the feeling of having people look down at him - thinking of him as useless.

❤ But then he actually met someone absentminded and forgetful. Eye-opening.

❤ He would be sitting next to you, just watching you look off into nowhere with thoughts clouding your perception.

❤ Dreams became apart of his reality, too. He decided against interrupting your little sequences.

❤ He's very patient.

❤ And he won't take offense to when he mentions things in the past, and you have to admit that you don't remember.

❤ He sees no flaws in you, no reasons to get mad.

❤ He does find it a bit amusing. That's just because secretly, the evil part of him mind tends to go to extreme, mischievous thoughts. As in, if he needs an alibi, he could blame your forgetfulness on something. Something.

❤ But he'd never do that, nor ever be in a situation where that's necessary.

.

Shuichi Saihara

❤ He remembers like, everything, so he's willing to fill in the blanks when things get foggy for you.

❤ And he'll try not to take it personally when you forget things about him - or when you retell stories and remake promises. It's quite annoying, just because his brain is less foggy than yours, and he's not used to being close to somebody (at all) so different from him.

❤ His brain will try to convince him that you are purposely 'ignoring' him out of malice. But that's just mental illness.

❤ Sometimes he'll talk slowly to you, speaking things out slowly, just like he does with Gonta.

❤ And the usual - "Uhh - hello?" that he lets out whenever he noticed you have gone off into that little la la land of yours.

❤ He'll calmly nudge you, raising his voice. And you have to blink rapidly to announce that you can actually hear him.

❤ Often you'll respond, eyes still locked in the same focused position (hard to break).

❤ And then he'll continue on the conversation like nothing had happened.

.

Hajime Hinata

❤ Emotions. He experiences a lot of them. Definitely. And you stir things inside of him.

❤ When he's in the middle of talking, you better fight off the urge to doze off because he will get offended and he will not hesitate to abruptly snap in front of your gaze.

❤ Of course, after startling you, he'll apologize.

❤ But he needs to feel special. Needs to feel important enough to have you not lose thoughts when being with him.

❤ It messes with his ego.

❤ If you want to flatter him, start writing down things you learn about him, so that when something comes up, you'll remember, and he'll be surprised.

❤ Doing that has gained you a lot of kisses.

❤ And it makes him feel better.

❤ In public, if you nod off, he'll just leave you standing there and just walk away.