#because there are no bad conscious thoughts

[gghostwriter]

i saw you opened your fluff requests so how about this: reid recieves an invitation to a high-school reunion back in Vegas but he doesn't want to go because of his bad childhood. but his best friend (who is completely in love with him) convinces him to go, and offers to be his fake girlfriend to hype him up and make him feel more comfortable. he agrees and ends up confessing his love on the same football field he was bullied on

please feel no pressure to write this, it's just an idea i thought was cute

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Friends to lovers; Fluff with a mix of pining wc: 2.1k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, but she just still work for the FBI. By far, this is my longest request written (it's a chapter length) and I don't know how it became so long but I hope you enjoy it still! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Rewriting History. // Spencer Reid

It was the heavy scent of books and wood that welcomed you home. Street lights reflecting off the emerald green walls, bathing the apartment space a warm golden hue. There was peace and stillness, your roommate of two years, Spencer Reid, nowhere to be seen—a usual occurrence that came with his and your job too, being FBI agents under the BAU and CACU, respectively.

You sluggishly made your way to your bedroom, adjacent Spencer’s closed door. Flipping open the switch, your worn body collapsed on the plush vanity chair as thoughts about the darkness of your job slip away and get replaced with melancholy on your connection with the boy genius. It was a relationship nurtured by grueling times in the academy—a connection forged out of convenience at first before becoming this convoluted and intimate bond all because you ended up falling for him.

It wasn’t a conscious choice and Spencer didn’t make it any easier. He was a closed off castle complete with a moat and a secret password—painfully shy and awkward in nature. If it wasn’t for required partnership in physical classes, you doubted you’d get as close as you were now.

A beep brought you out of your musings.

And as if he knew you were thinking of him, it was a text message from Spencer informing you of his return home in a few minutes. 

With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of the chair and changed into a set of clothes—a faded Caltech tee, that you never returned, and a pair of black leggings

Padding across to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator and silently thanked your past self for prepping dinner for two in advance. With how irregular both your schedules were and Spencer’s apparent lack of skill in cooking, it fell upon your shoulders to make sure he isn’t living off of cold pizzas and Chinese takeouts. 

As the second plate of food was heating up in the microwave, the chiming of keys softly echoed from outside the mahogany door.

“Hey Spencer,” you called out from the kitchen counter.

A series of rustles and a soft hey answered back.

You tilted your head to the side in contemplation, something was wrong and as he turned the corner, shoulders curving in on itself and brows furrowed, something must definitely be wrong. 

“Tough case?” You asked, bringing both plates to the rounded dinner table.

“Yeah—” Spencer shook his head. “Actually no, not really but I got an email from Las Vegas.”

Your spoonful of soup hung midair, immediately concerned with the email contents. “Is it your mom? Is she okay?’ 

Having visited Diana in numerous occasions with and without Spencer, you’ve learned to love that woman fiercely too. She was a breath of fresh air—blunt during her lucid days and smart during her academic lectures. 

“It’s from my high school, an invitation for the reunion.”

Ah. “And you’re not sure if you want to go?” 

He shrugged, chewing his slice of chicken before answering. “There’s really no one I want to reconnect with, you know. No happy memories really.” 

“That’s true,” you nodded along. 

During the first few nights moving in the apartment, Spencer had shared the lows he had to go through just to get to where he was now at such a young age—endlessly mocked for being a geek, no friend group or single confidant to watch his back, and the utter humiliation of being tied naked on a football post. You had an inkling that the genius had gone through bullying, it was a sad norm in all schools, especially in public, but hearing it first hand had brought home just how much of his closed off and shy personality was a product of his trials.

You tapped your fingers on the table. “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, yeah. To show all those mean bullies where you are now,” your back straightening from the idea. “They’ll talk about you in passing anyway, whether you’re there or not so might as well be there to show them up and defend yourself plus—” you paused, taking a sip of water before barreling through. “—you’ve become quite handsome since then. Don’t you think?”

His hazel eyes widened in surprise, further adding to his appeal. Spencer was so innocent that he didn’t know the effect he had on women—first evidence was yourself and the second was Lila Archer. “Y-you think I’ve become handsome?”

With warmth spreading on your cheeks, you nodded. “You’ve always been handsome to me.”

Spencer started coughing, hand beating on his chest as the food threatened to go down the wrong tube.

Alarmed, you quickly stood up and started patting his back for assistance. How embarrassing was this—the first time you blatantly flirted with the man you formed intense attraction for ends up with him almost choking. Was this a sign maybe to not push your luck? You’ve done just about anything to nudge Spencer’s mind in acknowledging your feelings, from remembering all his little quirks (all were just so cute), actively listening to his tangents (all very informative and interesting), and even sometimes delivering a box of donuts to his team (all in the name of seeing his face brighten up) but none seemed to have worked. So, you opted to tell him in words and look what that did to him.

You gnawed on your lower lip. Maybe it was best to pull back, maybe it was best to throw in—

He cleared his throat before his hand reached yours situated on his shoulder. There was a slight tremor before it closed around your all of a sudden clammy palm. “I’ll go if you go with me.”

Filter off your brain. “As a fake girlfriend type of thing?”

You shut your eyes closed, promising to yourself to stop reading those unrealistic romance novels that Penelope lends you.

“If—if you want,” his voice shaky and soft as rustles could be heard in the background.

Opening your eyes, Spencer was now fully facing you. Eyes roaming your face and body—profiling you.

A small smile graced your lips. “Okay.”

———

The second thing your brain thought of was how oddly fitting that the reunion was held at the school gym, located beside the football field. The first thought being how Spencer looked devastatingly handsome in his suit and tie.

His attire wasn’t that different from his usual in the FBI but there was a hidden meaning behind his choices. The patterned brown blazer was a gift you had given to him for his first anniversary working at the FBI and his tie matched the color of your dress. 

It made you feel warm even though a shiver went down your spine as a sudden gust of wind passed by. 

Spencer slid closer towards you. “Do you want my coat?”

“I’m alright, thanks for asking Spence,” you looked up, smiling in reassurance. The fairy lights hung in rows emphasized how structured his face was. A high nose bridge, similar to his mother’s, and high cheekbones that made your fingers twitch in want to caress. He was stunning to look at—a view you feared you’d never get enough of.

“Spencer Reid!” A booming male voice shouted from across the gymnasium causing a few heads to swivel. Based on the other attendees reactions—giving them ample space as they passed and the stares tracking their every move, you knew who he was right away. A former bully.

“How are you?” he reached out his hand for a handshake. One that Spencer stared at before bringing his hand up to a wave, lips in a tight lipped smile.

“Hey Paul, nice to see you.”

“Is it?” He chuckled before turning his eyes on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You stated out your name, tone very similar when you’re on the field—cold and professional.

“Look at you, Spencer, having such a pretty girlfriend. Heard you work for the FBI now, is that how you two met?” 

A saccharine smile spread across your lips. Your boy genius had been stiff ever since Paul called out his name. Having have heard how Spencer once reacted to a case where the unsub was a high school victim, you knew where his mind was at the moment. Grappling with the hurt from the past and trying his best not to lash out from the scars it had left behind. “Yeah, we met at the Academy and just clicked. He was such a gentleman that I couldn’t say no when he asked me out for a date.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, man, is it alright if I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

You brushed the back of your hand with his, bringing his attention to you. There was a slight furrow in between his brows and his stature was taut, like a stretched out bow that needs to release it’s arrow. This was one of the few times, you could tell, that Spencer was unsure what to do. There was no malice behind Paul’s request and although you weren’t a profiler yourself, the slight hunch on the former bully’s shoulder silently communicated his remorse. 

Spencer’s eyes trained on yours and as if he found the answer within the depths of your gaze, he slightly smiled, squeezing your hand in his before turning back and nodding to the interloper. 

“I’ll go get a refill,” you lifted your empty cup to excuse yourself.

In truth, you stood idly near the punch bowl and kept your eyes glued on the male duo. Paul was looking down, shuffling his feet, before taking a deep breath and looking straight at Spencer. He uttered a few words you couldn’t make of and in turn, Spencer’s body relaxed and he nods once. With an offer for a handshake, one that Spencer shook, Paul walked away as you made your way back to your partner’s side.

“Good talk?” you asked.

“He apologized,” Spencer muttered, eyes studying you before grasping your hand back to his. “No refill?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it anymore. Say Spence—” he titled his head as an answer. “Want to get out of here?”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”

———

The cicadas were singing their tune as you and Spencer stepped out to the football field. The grass lush in color and the faint smell of wet earth wafted around. Grateful that you opted to wear sensible flats rather than the high heels Penelope was bartering you to wear, you held Spencer’s hand tight as he started recollecting the worst bullying that happened in the same place many years ago.

“That—” he pointed at the goalpost on the far right. “—was where I was left tied up. I remember feeling worried that I would catch hypothermia as the rain kept coming and going that day and I remember feeling sad when I got home and my mother didn’t notice me missing.” 

Your voice caught in your throat.

He continued on. “They say people forget events as they grow older and I wished I had the luxury of that.”

“Because of your eidetic memory,” you sighed. It was a blessing and a curse to have. 

“But I was thinking, maybe I could rewrite it instead?”

There was a thick layer of hope behind his words causing you to turn, fully facing him this time.

“I—I’ve been keeping a secret from you for 24 months and 182 days and I don’t know if this would change our relationship or ruin it but you’re my person, my best friend—” he took a deep breath. “—and I’m in love with you.”

People say there are moments in your life that would upend everything as you know it and tilt everything to an axis, you never understood what they meant by that, up until this moment. The twinkling night stars suddenly appeared brighter, the temperature warmer, and the force that tethered you to Earth was no longer gravity, it was now Spencer Reid.

You smiled, eyesight blurring from tears. His trembling fingers reached out to wipe the droplets making its path down your cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too, Spencer Reid, since the beginning.” 

And as if the world needed more proof, he smiled—his bright, full teeth smile and you felt your heart halt before starting back up again. 

It was proof that he owned the beating organ in your chest and all the emotion that came with it. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[torturedtypewritersdept]

the sun + the sand- pt. two - peach

↳PAIRING: bff!rafe cameron x fem!reader

↳SUMMARY:you have a stalker, but your best friend rafe won't let anything happen to you, even if he has to come clean about how he really feels.

↳WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, blackmail, inappropriate behavior (not from rafe), protective!rafe, etc.

↳A/N: this is a repost from my old blog @illicitfixations + @lovelornanonymity. all of my works are being reposted to this one + the previous blog has been deactivated.

You stood next to the fire, ruby red lips turned up into a smile as you laughed at something stupid one the two stooges had said. You had only come tonight to see Rafe, but as the minutes turned into hours and he still was nowhere to be found, you wondered if John B’s bed would make it sting any less – the promise of seeing Rafe was usually enough to numb everything else, but you couldn’t help to be hurt at his absence. He was the glue that held your broken heart together and tonight he was the hand that held the hammer as it crashed into the fragile glass of it. The jeans that clung to your waist in all the right ways were his favorite, you’d made sure to pick something out that would make you more appealing to the eye, to his eye. You weren’t an idiot, you knew you were beautiful, enough of the island boys had told you so. But, the one boy you wanted to hadn’t and you wondered sometimes if it was because he didn’t think you were. The self-conscious thoughts continued to bloom like flowers on a vine inside your head as you waited, pretending to laugh at Topper’s really bad jokes. You loved Topper, but he had never been funny and his constant trying made you want to gag.  

“I’m gonna get another drink.” 

You muttered, breaking the laughter that previously bellowed from deep within your belly. The boys nodded in your direction, saluting you with the cups in their hands as you made your way to the kegger. You stopped to stand in line and noted the girl in front of you had on a hot pink frilly tank top, one that you found rather beautiful and just as you went to tap her on the shoulder, you noticed Rafe wrap his arm around her from her side. She turned slightly and his eyes met yours, a shiver went up your spine. 

“Peach, what are you doing here?” 

He questioned, as if you hadn’t previously texted about meeting up in this exact spot. 

“Nothing, I was just leaving.” 

You spoke in a short manner, eyes locked on the ground again before you turned toward the trash can and threw your cup away. He didn’t chase after you like in the movies, though you wished he had and instead of wallowing in the despair that reality caused you, you went in search of your pogue prince. Rafe watched as you walked away, unsure of whether or not you wanted to be chased. He also wasn’t sure if he had the energy to chase you tonight. Would it be so wrong to look for love in someone else when you were never going to give him the time of day anyways? The thought left as quickly as it had come and he felt an immense amount of guilt for it, knowing that as selfish as he was, he could never stop loving you, not really. He watched your hips sway as you retreated from him and his eyes quickly darted locking eyes with none other than JJ Maybank as he stared at your figure crossing the beach in between sips out of a red solo cup. Rafe couldn’t put his finger on what it was, he just knew that the look JJ wore was sinister and something wasn’t right. 

-

You leaned up from the bed, your feet draping over the side as you planted them on the floor and moving to the wooden chair in the corner of John B’s room where your clothes lay. You wore his shirt, quickly taking it off as you slid your jeans and shirt back over your body. 

“Well that was fun.” 

He said with a sly smirk, laying on his side with one hand propping up his head. His floppy hair was dreamy and accentuated his features nicely, but it was nothing compared to Rafe’s. You pulled out your phone and texted Rafe, even though you were sure there was someone much more worthwhile lying underneath him. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about that detail at the moment, you just wanted to get away from the situation you were in. 

Peach:  It’s okay if you’re busy and can’t, but can you pick me up? 

“Yeah.” 

You finally responded, voice monotone, lacking any real sense of enjoyment. Because frankly, you weren’t enjoying it. John B was cute but five minutes in and he was cumming, not caring anything about your needs. You thought that after the first time, it couldn’t get worse so you continued seeing him, but you were wrong and you had yet to get any real release. You made your way out of the makeshift fishing shack and pulled up Rafe’s contact again as you made your way down the steps. 

Rafey: Sorry, I can’t. 

Rafe felt guilt rise in the bottom of his stomach, leaving you stranded. 

Peach: Okay :) 

You responded almost instantaneously and that worried him, the thought of you being so urgent for his answer led his brain down a rabbit hole. 

Rafey: I can send someone to get you. Send me your location. 

He replied, hoping that his offer would be enough to make you feel safe. 

Peach: it’s okay, i can walk 

The thought of you walking anywhere after eleven pm made him sick to his stomach, especially with the way JJ had previously been staring at you and speaking of JJ – where the fuck was he? He wondered as he looked around the party, unable to spot him. 

Rafey: Walk?? From where?? 

He questioned, bile rising up in his throat at the thought of you being vulnerable and unknowing of the danger that loomed in the night. 

Peach: John’s. 

You replied, but he already knew the answer. The Life 360 app on his phone giving your location away.

Rafey: Stay there, I’m coming. 

Peach: It’s okay, I don’t want to ruin your night. Have fun, I'll see you tomorrow. 

The text made you uneasy, as you felt guilty ruining another night for him. You knew deep down he didn’t view it that way, but it didn’t make you feel any less shitty. 

Rafey: Dammit, y/n. Stay there. 

-

Like every other day, you didn’t listen to Rafe. Instead, you started your seven mile walk home, disappointed that Rafe had told you no. He had never told you no before, even when he was caught up with Ward, so it must’ve meant he was having a good time with the girl from the party. You shrugged it off, as you continued walking, the heels you had worn to the party leaving blisters on the backs of your heels like bruises against abused skin. You looked at your feet as you walked, trying not to let yourself wallow in the despair of it all. Though, you hoped that wherever Rafe was and whoever he was with, that he was happy. You didn’t have time to blink before you heard tires screech as they passed you, slamming on breaks quickly. You looked up, taking in the midnight blue truck that was etched into your brain – that would always linger like a tattoos kiss; it was Rafe and you smiled to yourself that he came. But, you were angry at yourself that you had ruined yet another night for him. You wondered why he hadn’t discarded you like everyone else and why he was always the hero of your story; you wondered if he always would be. You looked back and kept walking, deciding that the most selfish thing that you could do was get in the truck and while usually that wouldn’t bother you, you wouldn’t let it happen tonight. He turned his vehicle around, and began riding beside you on the pavement. 

“Sweetheart, get in the truck.” 

He spoke softly, yet it was a command and it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You felt your knees grow weak, but couldn’t bring yourself to look at him so you did what any self respecting simp would, you kept walking. 

“y/n, get in the truck.” 

He spoke again, with a deeper growl and more command. This was the voice he used during team huddles and when he was angry with Sarah. He had only used it on you a few times and the fact that he was using it on you tonight, meant that he was angry and the thought of him being angry at you brought tears to your eyes. You kept walking wanting the feeling of your skin crawling to cease immediately. He watched as your shoulders slumped, unsure of what was plaguing you, he just knew something was wrong. So, he threw the truck in park and climbed down, catching up to your moving frame. It wasn’t hard with the blisters that littered your feet. He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him, taking in your flushed cheeks and the tears that were cascading down them, he placed your cheeks in his hands. 

“What’s the matter, peach?” 

He asked, his voice as soft as it could possibly be. You swallowed thickly before attempting to look down at your feet, but he stopped you, bringing your chin up with his forefinger and thumb. 

“Peach, baby, what’s the matter? Did John B hurt you?” 

Your eyes went wide in response and you quickly shut down that notion, knowing what Rafe was capable of when it came to the people he loved. 

“Uh, no. No, not really. I hurt myself.” 

He looked confused as he scoured your body for cuts, bruises, and broken bones. 

“Where, sweetheart? Why didn’t you call? Did you fall? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” 

He asked urgently, the words flying from his mouth like a bat flying out of hell’s grasp. 

“No, I’m fine. I mean emotionally, I hurt myself.” 

“What happened?” 

He questioned. 

“Nothing that I didn’t already expect.” 

You muttered. 

“Why do you let these boys treat you so badly, sweetheart?” 

He questioned, kindly, dropping his large frame in front of your face, pushing the hair away from your face. 

“Because no one else wants me.” 

You whispered into the cool October air, shivering and Rafe took off his pullover, draping it over your form. 

“What did you just say?” 

He asked, shocked at your revelation. You couldn’t meet his eye, swallowing thickly as you dropped your gaze to your feet. 

“Come on, Rafe. I know what people say.” 

You said, flatly. 

“And what do they say, peach?” 

He questioned, innocently, though, probing you to be vulnerable with him. 

“That I’m a – you know what.” 

You grimaced as the words left your lips. 

“What do they say, y/n?” 

He asked, more urgently. 

“That I’m a slut, okay? You’re not stupid, you know what they say and you know that’s why no one but pogues like me. That’s why I don’t even like myself!” 

You finally shouted back at him, frustratedly as you cried. 

“Hey, come on, you know that’s not true, Peach.” 

He cooed, pulling you into his warm embrace and placing a kiss on your temple. You couldn’t do anything but cling to him in that moment, scared that he’d see you for what you truly were, scared that he'd change his mind. For a moment, you had the boy you loved in your arms and you didn’t want him to go away again. 

As always, if you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know <3

[sweetbillwriting]

The Key To His Heart - I

Description: As a hard-working novelist and single dad, Bill hasn't had much time for dating but gets an unorthodox chance to meet women when his friend persuades him to be a part of a dating TV show. 

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019. 

Setting: L.A, 2024, but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes. 

Notes: I changed the title of this story! This is just a fun story; please don't overanalyze too much haha. Here is the teaser.

Bill would never confess how much he missed a woman in his life. He wasn't the type to talk loudly about his feelings with friends or family, so instead he carried the loneliness by himself. He did everything by himself and even for his daughters because he wasn't just a separated dad; he was a widower. He didn't have anyone else to parent with, but he didn't have anyone to be a man with either. He needed a woman in his life that could lift him up, share the good and the bad with, and snuggle up with at night. He was ready now, ready to let a woman into his and his daughters' lives, but he felt it would be hard, he had already had a big love.

He stood in front of a full-length mirror in his walk-in-closet. His bedroom had it when he moved into the mansion, but he didn't have enough clothes to fill it, so more than half of the shelves were full of books and movies instead. He wore a dark blue suit with a light luster in it, paired with a crisp white tee. His hair was combed messily back and to the side.

Bill knew he was handsome. He was tall, had an athletic build, and features that fit a high couture model. He rarely felt self-conscious about his looks; instead, it was his way of being that could make him doubt himself. He was a thinker, and because of it, he was not always fully present within the presence he actually was in. He got nervous in the spotlight and could be so goal-oriented he could sometimes stomp on others feelings, never on purpose; he just liked honesty and open communication, but not everyone could handle his ways. He was not a charming prince. He didn't have American charm and timing, he had Swedish awkwardness and ironic humor. Why he would participate in a dating program on TV confused him more than the people surrounding him, but his friend, Herman, had persuaded him it was a great idea that he could bring something new to the format. Similar programs had been made for years, but it had more or less been men shaped in the same mold.

Herman sat behind Bill on a bench with an emerald green velvet cushion and agreeably nodded towards Bill.

“You look great, man,” he said, and stood up from the bench. He cleared his throat to stress Bill a bit; both of them knew twelve women were waiting on him downstairs along with a film team. Bill swallowed hard; his chest even pained with nerves, and for some seconds he thought about refusing to go down. It all was so silly, and that twelve women would want to date him felt impossible; they would leave the first week when they realized he was a workaholic just thinking about his daughters and new projects. He had never dated, he didn't really know how you did it, and he didn't have female friends; he wasn't such a man twelve women would fight about.

“Time to meet the chicks,” said Herman playfully. He was a producer for the program, and it was important for him that Bill performed. Bill nodded and laughed nervously before going to the stairs. He could see how the cameraman, behind the camera pointed towards the stairs, started to film. He took a deep breath before walking down the broad staircase with a straight back and a hand in his pants pocket.

It started now, the adventure. He looked out over the sea of women standing by the end of the stairs, waiting for him; most of them were dressed in cocktail dresses and heels. They applauded when they saw him, and he smiled, embarrassed, looking away so they could see the deep dimple in his cheek. He could hear some giggles of endearment of seeing him blush lightly. A servant came up to him with a silver tray holding champagne flutes. He gave the glass a displeased look. It wasn't the glass he had said they would use. Champagne shouldn't be served in flutes, but he still gave the server a small smile before taking a glass.

“Ehm, Yeah, welcome to my place. I hope you will feel at home. I look forward to getting to know all of you. Cheers!”

He wondered if he sounded awkward, like a nervous teenage boy, but he could see Herman behind the girls smiling pleased. The girls lifted their glasses and cheered with him. Bill smiled wide at them because they actually looked at him like he was extraordinary, and some of the girls were so fine he could feel his heart beating with attraction. This would be interesting.

×××

It was not as bad, as he had thought it would be being the center of attention of twelve beautiful women. It was a cocktail party with just him, the women, and of course the camera team, but they kept their distance even if he knew they captured everything on tape. Wherever he was, the women looked at him, even if they talked to each other. It was strange, but he also felt himself grow a few inches. He talked lightly with some of the girls, but there were a bit too many impressions to take everything in. He was talking to two women about their hometowns when suddenly someone took his hand and pulled him out on the deck surrounding that part of the house. It was a woman with long raven hair and golden eyeshadow. She was probably some years older than himself.

“Maria,” she said confidently and stretched out her hand to him. Bill smiled, impressed by her self esteem, and shook her hand.

“Bill.” She laughed softly and nodded.

“I know that.”

“You do?” Bill said playfully and took a sip of the old-fashioned drink in his hand.

“Mhm, you know, you might be the reason I'm here.”

“Oh yeah?”

There was a flirty vibe between them at once, and Bill really liked it.

“Yeah…” She gave him a teasing smile before changing the subject. I'm a writer too.”

“Oh? What do you write?”

“I write for teens, like teen noir.”

Bill nodded; he had heard about the genre but couldn't really say what it was, and at that moment he didn't feel he needed an explanation.

“I guess I haven't read anything by you then.”

Maria shrugged her shoulders as a joke, and Bill smiled.

“I think we could be a fantastic team…” Her voice was low and she looked at him with big eyes. She was no longer as flirty; she looked more at him like she already had a crush, and Bill felt the nerves go up at once.

“Yeah, yeah…” He drank up his drink. “Time to find a new drink,” he said, and he showed her his empty glass. Her soft eyes became a bit much for him, but he also knew his assignment for the night was to talk with the women, as many as possible.

×××

“Violet,” she said with a giggle. She looked like that girl he would call an American “girl next door." They stood by the bar the production had put up in the living room while he waited on his Negroni, and she just had gotten her Cosmopolitan. She looked really young, and he was right.

“I'm 22. That's not a problem, right? You felt so open in that interview.”

“No, no… But I should be honest and say I've never dated someone so much younger than me.”

He gave her a quick glance. Her legs were long and golden and looked so smooth.

“I'm mature for my age. I have my own company, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He said interested but started to imagine it was something silly, like selling unicorn keyrings.

“Yeah, I sell environmentally friendly plastic products to hospitals, like gloves and mugs, and so on.”

Bill looked at her, surprised. It wasn't what he expected from a 22-year-old.

“That's, that's impressive.” He smiled at her and she giggled proudly.

“Yeah, it actually works really well.”

“When did you start it?”

“Two years ago. I studied to be a nurse but saw how many plastic products the hospital used and felt I wanted to make a change.”

Bill couldn't stop smiling because the more she talked, the more impressed he got.

“I think it's my turn now,” said a girl next to them. She was short, so he needed to drop his gaze. He looked at the girl's face for a few seconds, then wiped the corner of his mouth while swallowing hard. Wow. Wow. He had said Ana De Armas was beautiful in his interview, and here was her lookalike. He turned to Violet with a smile, trying to mask his feelings.

“Thank you for the conversation, Violet.” She smiled disappointedly and looked at the girl who had enough guts to lay her hand on his arm and steer him away from her and the other girls. She steered him to the hallway where no one was and stood a few steps up the stairs to be as tall as him but also have her arms around his neck. Bill had his drink in his hand, but he also felt it would be a bit much for him to feel the girl's midnight blue chiffon dress with his fingers.

“I read that you're a leo,” she said sensually, and Bill smirked in attraction. Her name was Camila, and she radiated sexiness in such a natural way.

“Yeah?”

“That's why all of us look at you like you're a god. We want to worship you, and you love it, right?”

Bill laughed and snapped his neck as an answer.

“And you deserve the attention. You're really ambitious, creative, and full of passion.”

He just stood and smirked, especially because she dragged her long nails through the hair on his neck, and he could feel it tickle all the way down to his cock.

“What's your sign?” He said and took a sip from his drink.

“Scorpio.” It didn't say Bill anything, but even that sounded sexy, so he licked his lips and gave her a pleased nod. His full attention was on the sensual brunette in front of him, so he didn't notice that two women walked by the hallway and looked at them. They were on the way to the bathroom, talking about his latest book, when they saw Camila standing with her arms around Bill's neck. The redhead, Sandra, looked at them with big eyes while Maria looked away.

“So typical it's her he stands like that with...” said Sandra, and rolled her eyes. Maria didn't say anything but looked at Bill disappointedly.

×××

Bill saw a pair of eyes behind a camera that stared at him. It was Herman who, with a head movement, told him it was time to go to the next woman. Bill didn't feel the need though; he liked being worshiped under Camila’s gaze.

“Ehm, hm, I must give the other women my attention now…” he said. The sigh was close. He wanted to stay there.

“Do you?” She said it teasingly and dragged her hands over his shoulders. Bill nodded a little with a strained smile. “But thank you for your time.”

Camila released him slowly and turned on her heel. Bill looked her up and down while they both walked up the short stairs to the rest of the big hallway. Maybe he already knew who he would choose in the end.

While walking into the living room, several of the girls smiled at him to allure him to talk to just them, but Herman, behind a camera, nodded Bill towards a bleached bottle blonde by the fireplace. She looked like his own age, but not at all his type. Her dress was strapless and made of burgundy faux leather.

“What's your name?” He asked her kindly while she played with her bleached hair.

“Victoria,” she said with a sweet smile. Her voice was soft as silk and nothing he had expected. “We have actually met before.”

“Have we?” Bill furrowed his brows but also felt stupid that he didn't remember her. Victoria smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“My dad owns a bookstore close to Central Park, and you were there to sign some books... I understand you don't remember me; it was a long time ago, and I had another hair color.” Bill nodded, trying to remember her or even the bookstore, but he couldn't find anything in his head. He did so many signings, especially in New York, so he couldn't remember.

“What hair color did you have then?”

“Light brown, sort of, the boring kind.”

“Like me?” Bill quipped with a smirk.

“What? No, no. Yours is much more chocolate; I was just… Like a rat.” He smiled amused and took a sip of his drink.

“What do you work with?”

“Ehm, I actually work at the bookstore. It's fun because my dad lets me try all kinds of business.” Bill didn't want to be the person judging her for her work, but standing behind a counter in a store felt really uninspiring. He was himself super ambitious and wanted a woman with similar attributes.

“I'm sorry, Victoria, but it's time for me to give the other women a chance.” Victoria nodded.

“Of course, of course.”

But Bill didn't go speak with another girl; instead, the team led him to an armchair between the plants out in the orangery. He knew why they wanted him there; it was time for him to receive questions about the girls that they would edit so it would seem like it was his own thoughts. It would be cut into the show so the viewer could follow his feelings and thoughts.

“Camila is something else… I can't deny I already like her,” he said with a smirk and dragged his hand over his thighs. “I like Maria too; I think she might be intelligent, and we would have much in common. Violet is impressive for her age…” Bill got lost in his own thoughts, thinking about the girls, but mostly Camila.

“What about Victoria?” Asked Herman. Bill knew the viewer wouldn't hear the question, so he must answer it like it was his own words.

“It doesn't feel like Victoria and I have so much in common.”

Bill nodded to himself but then realized he didn't know a thing about Camila but still had her as a favorite. Was he just shallow?

Bill was questioned on whether he believed his soulmate was there. He wasn't really that sappy, talking about soulmates, but he knew what was expected of him.

“I think my soulmate can be here; I look forward to getting to know them all.”

×××

Two girls with similar looks stood and looked up the big stairway leading up to the second floor, where they didn't have permission to be. By the first look, it looked like the brunettes looked at it dreamily, imagining themselves walking up the stairs with Bill, but it wasn't what they looked at. On the wall by the stairs was a big family portrait. Bill looked skinnier with a young girl in his lap; next to him sat a woman with dark blonde hair, heavily pregnant. The couple looked at each other with small, loving smiles while the child smiled big at the photographer. The girls look at Bill's wedding band, then at the woman's big diamond on her finger.

“Isn't it a little bit strange he let it hang there? I mean, it is his ex,” said Julie.

“It's not his ex; it's his late wife. His daughters’ mom,” said Esmeralda lowly and gave Julie an annoyed look.

"Yeah, but couldn't he have taken it down for now? It feels like he’s picking a mistress when she's up there.”

Esmeralda didn't say anything, just crossed her arms and shook her head. Just then they heard footsteps from the top of the stairs, and they both looked up, seeing Bill walking down with elegant loops. He smiled at them and wondered if they stood there waiting for him. He didn't notice how they were looking at the picture, he was so used to it hanging there he didn't really think about it.

“Hey?” He said and walked down to them. Julie blushed and smiled. She felt stupid for commenting on the portrait now when he stood in front of them and gave them a look a married man wouldn't. Esmeralda smiled a bit nervously but answered his hey with a hello.

“What were your names again? I'm sorry, there are so many names.”

They were the girls he had talked about their hometowns with. Both of them answered with sweet smiles, hoping they gave a better impression than the other.

“But both of you're models?”

He said, and looked at them up and down. It was just a reflex, their most important tool was their bodies, so it just went that way.

“Yeah, but with quite different things, I think? I do mostly lingerie shoots.”

Bill looked at her pretty face, trying not to look at her body. He wanted to imagine what she looked like under the black dress, but he didn't want to be that sort of pig and just smiled and nodded. Esmeralda didn't say anything and let Julie continue to talk.

“Are you interested in fashion? Maybe you have seen something with me then?”

Bill laughed uncomfortably and scratched his jaw.

“No… I'm dressed more or less the same way every day. I'm completely lost when it comes to fashion.”

He turned his gaze towards Esmeralda too, but she looked away. He got the feeling she might have lost interest in him all ready. Julie laughed and took a step closer to him, so she stood a bit in front of Esmeralda.

“I could help you with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Bill smirked, and without thinking, he got that feeling he wanted to tease her.

“I think there’s a fashion designer here, isn't there?”

Julie looked at him a bit irritated and put the tip of her tongue against her top lip. It was unnecessary, and maybe she would take offense for real, but it has just come as an impulse to tease her a bit. It didn't seem like it was appreciated, though.

“Bill?”

He turned towards Herman's voice, who stood at the entrance to the big living room.

“Time to give the keys.”

×××

In a popular TV show, the man gave the girls roses as a symbol they could stay; Bill would give them the keys to his house. They were just symbolic keys because his manor had fingerprint locks on every door, but it looked nice that he gave them each a golden key. He thought it was silly; why couldn't he just say who got to stay?

“It's better TV,” said Herman, but Bill still thought it was silly. Oh well, he would just play along.

This time all the girls would get a key. It was only more than right because he hadn't even had time to talk with them all. It wouldn't be fair, not to himself either. He would call them up in order of his interest. The first being who he was most interested in, then continued down to the one he was least interested in. He looked at the girls standing in front of him expectantly, like he had their lives in his hands. He took a key in his hand, looked at its old style but in shiny gold, then up towards the girls.

Camila.

He smiled big when she walked up to him, feeling a tickling feeling in his lower belly, but when he looked behind her, he could see several girls looking at each other pointedly. He felt his throat dry up. He knew they thought he was predictable. Maybe they had even seen them in the hallway. He turned his gaze towards Camila again and smiled warmly at her. She didn't seem to notice the girls judging stares, and he wouldn't let her know about it. He gave her the key, and then she walked away to the side, being an audience to the rest of the ceremony.

Maria.

Julie.

Violet.

Odette.

Tiffany.

Sienna.

Sandra.

Rose.

Brigitte.

Victoria.

Esmeralda.

×××

The camera team also took some of the girls to the armchair in the orangery, one by one, to see what they were thinking about the man they would move in with. Bill pretended he didn't notice that it happened, but in reality he was completely aware of who they brought with them, and it stressed him a bit.

Rose: He's super handsome! But still cute with his big eyes.

Victoria: I don't know why he didn't think I made a good first impression. I don't know; he's hard to read.

Sienna: He seems sweet; maybe even a bit shy?

Camila: I think we have some sort of chemistry. It feels good.

×××

Bill stood in the closet again, but now dressed down to his boxers. He hung up the suit again and then stretched out his back so it cracked satisfyingly. It had been a long day with many impressions, and more would come. Twelve women lived under his roof, and it made him a bit nervous. Five of them lived in the mansion, while seven of them lived in the guest house on the property. Some of them shared a room, and he wondered if it might have started some drama between them. He wouldn't have liked sharing a room with a stranger either. He laid down on the bedroom floor and stretched out before starting to do his obligated pushups. It was especially important now because he couldn't sag up when they would film him every day. While doing his workout routine, he thought back on the women. Several of them had Hollywood good looks, but he wondered if they were more than that. He needed someone who could challenge him intellectually and who could inspire him. A pretty face would maybe be interesting for a few weeks, but in the long run, other things were more important. He thought about Camila. Sexy, sexy Camila. He hadn't even asked her about her profession or her age. He felt ashamed while thinking about it. 

Bill did his nightly routine but couldn't stop thinking about the girls’ looks behind Camila during the ceremony. They had judged him so hard. Sandra, Maria, and Esmeralda had looked at each other like he was a pig. Was he? He had never seen himself as shallow, but Camila was just too good to be true. While crawling down into bed, he instead thought about how nicely the dress had fallen over her curves and how erotic she looked when she licked her blushed lips. What did she wear under such a tight dress? It didn't look like she wore a bra, and he couldn't see a visible panty line. Did she wear underwear? If he had been so sneaky and let a hand move in under her dress, had his fingertips met a wet pussy? He would have petted it like it was the sweetest little kitten. 

Fuck, he was a pig. He looked down at his erection like it had betrayed him. It wasn’t starting well if he was already getting hung up on one of the girls. He needed to get to know Camila instead of just thinking filth. She would be his first evening date. He nodded to himself and looked up at the ceiling. 

She looked horny. She had wanted him. She was probably that sort of girl who loved sucking cock. She would deep throat him completely and look up at him with tears in her eyes while he hit the back of her throat over and over. 

Bill didn't feel ashamed when he pulled out his cock and dragged his hand over it harshly; he just thought about how he would have thrust his cock hard into her mouth and made her feel distress for a few seconds by the suffocated feeling. When he came over his stomach, he felt ashamed though and took a napkin out from his nightstand table and wiped his stomach, grossed out by himself. It wasn't okay that he sexualized her like this already. He needed to treat these women with respect and not reduce them into sex objects when he was alone. He could do better. He was better. 

×××

The alarm clock rang at 06.30, but Bill shut it off and turned to the other side. He had two more alarms, so he never listened to the first one. He wished he could just sleep until 11.00, but he hadn't been able to do that for five years. When the alarm clock rang again at 06.40, he turned it off, but sat up on the edge of the bed with a loud grunt. If he wanted to go out for a run, his chance was now. At nine, they would all meet for a shared breakfast, and he needed to take a shower before that and make himself presentable for the girls, but also the camera. 

Once again, he stared at himself in the full-length mirror. He flexed his stomach a little but felt so stupid that he looked around to see that no one was looking. It would be impossible, but still he felt watched. He flexed his stomach again. It looked good. Actually, really good. He had worked out hard before the show and would continue; he would not look like some tired old dad. 

After putting on his running gear, he walked down the stairs, but realized then he wasn't the only one up early. A blonde was just on the way out through the entrance door, but she turned around when she heard Bill's heavy steps behind her. Rose looked at him surprised. 

“I thought I was the only one up,” she said with a smile, even if the both of them could see the cameraman in a corner. 

“I thought the same. Are you always up this early?” Bill walked down to her. She was tiny, and he almost laughed when he realized their height difference. Her hair was long and golden, gathered in a high ponytail. She looked up at him, then laughed a little. 

“This height difference…” 

Bill laughed a little too. 

“Yeah…” He looked at her running gear and opened the door. 

“Do you want to run with me?” 

They ran in silence; often Bill ran a bit in front of her because he had such long legs and she couldn't keep up, but he waited for her before running around a corner. 

“Problem keeping up?” he said teasingly.

“Fuck you! It's because you have legs like a damn giraffe!” She laughed when she came up to him. They stood panting together by a little park while Bill smirked at the blonde. 

“Would you just have guessed your way if you were out alone, or do you have a GPS?" He looked at her wrists but couldn't see a watch.

“I just guess. I don't like running with all this technical equipment. I just want to run. Like Phoebe in Friends, you know?” She joked and corrected the high ponytail. Bill made an amused nod. “I always find my way home; that's my talent.” 

“Even to my home?” 

“It's my home too right now.” 

They looked at each other with big smiles for a few seconds before running back to the house together. 

“I can help you stretch if you want?” said Rose when they stood outside of the manor. “I don't mean that in such a suggestive way as it sounded like. I'm a personal trainer,” she said with an embarrassed laugh and looked down at her running shoes. 

“Sure, okay,” said Bill, and he led her to the side of the house where they could be on the deck. He looked at her a little amused because of her size, but when she started to stretch out his muscles, he realized there was more power in her than it looks like. 

“Do you have problems with your left shoulder?” She asked and dragged her hands over his broad shoulders when he sat on the floor in front of her. 

“Yeah, I got it in a mountain bike accident, actually. I wasn't as great as I thought I would be.” He looked up at her with big eyes but was forced to squint because she stood close to the morning sun. She was beautiful like that—rosy cheeked and healthy-looking. She didn't wear any makeup. 

“You must take care of yourself,” she said sweetly. And massaged his shoulders lightly. Bill nodded and looked down at his bare knees, where he could see the scars laying on top of each other. Taking care of himself was not his specialty. 

“I should go and shower... So I don't smell like sweat all day,” giggled Rose and made Bill stand up, towering over her again. 

“I think you smell great.” He smiled kindly; it wasn't even flirty, just his thoughts. Rose looked away a little embarrassed, and it made Bill feel a bit confident, so when she was about to walk away, he took her hand in his and pulled her into a soft hug against his warm chest. Rose giggled and looked up at him, still pressed against his chest. 

“I didn't think about how sweaty I am.” He laughed, embarrassed, and released her. 

“No worries, I like it,” she said with a flirty smile before walking through the house to the entrance door. Bill stood and looked out over the lawn for a while with a small smile. He thought he probably would need just a few minutes of alone time before meeting all of the women again; what he didn't know was that several of them were already awake and planned how to get some time alone with him. One of them even stood by the window watching him when he thought he had some privacy.

×

The girls: 

Maria: Writer, 38. 

Violet: Entrepreneur, 22. 

Camila: Engineer, 31. 

Victoria: Shop assistant, 34. 

Sandra: Fashion designer, 36. 

Julie: Model, 25. 

Esmeralda: Model, 27. 

Rose: Personal trainer, 22.

Odette: Pediatrician, 33. 

Tiffany: Actress, 30. 

Sienna: Painter, 28. 

Brigitte: Chef, 29. 

×

[fairyniceyeah]

💎 I love my team, I love my crew (Part 7/7)

Title from Super (SEVENTEEN)

ILMTILMC Part I ILMTILMC Part II ILMTILMC Part III ILMTILMC Part IV ILMTILMC Part V ILMTILMC Part VI

Summary: The decision is made. And, consequently, Jeonghan falls apart.

CW: emeto, mentions of diarrhea in the context of illness, fevers, IVs

Sickies: S.Coups/Seungcheol + Woozi/Jihoon + Wonwoo + Jeonghan Caretakers: Dino + Jun + Jeonghan + Hoshi/Soonyoung

💎🦖

Dino had found the medic easily enough, tending to the poor noona who had made the juk with Mingyu earlier. When he heard about Seungcheol’s condition he jumped up, agreeing it was the right decision.

What Dino had not anticipated was to run into Jun on the way back, who recoiled when he saw them.

“What happened?”, he asked.

“Hyung’s fever isn’t going down and he is refusing to eat”, Dino explained, “he needs an IV.”

Jun mumbled what sounded suspiciously like a curse in Mandarin. “Jihoonie has thrown up everything he’s eaten. I came to ask about the IV as well.” 

Dino didn’t understand why he was so worried. It wasn’t like they didn’t have medication. In fact they had a whole medic right with them.

“Do you think there is a way he doesn’t need it?”, Jun questioned. Dino frowned.

“No. He’s burning up, hyung. We need to get his fever down. What’s the problem? You make it sound like hyung shouldn’t get an IV.”

Jun ran his hand through his hair, looking stressed and finally he said, voice trembling: “I wish I didn’t have to tell you, baby. The thing is: We only have one IV available now. An antiemetic. Cheollie needs it so he can try to eat a bit and take an oral fever reducer. But Jihoon needs it too because he can’t keep anything down. He even fainted earlier.”

Dino felt tears run down his cheeks before he knew it. “What do we do, hyung?”, he asked shakily. 

“I don’t know. Let’s talk to Jeonghannie-hyung.”

If Dino had thought that Jun looked exhausted, Jeonghan was much worse. He looked like he would rather cry than make a decision and the few minutes Dino had been gone had seemingly aged him. He looked so drained and tired. Dino wished he could help them better. 

“Wha…? Jihoonie?”, Jeonghan asked as they entered. Jun nodded.

“He threw up again and fainted.”

“Damn.” Jeonghan’s voice broke on the word and he ran his hand over his face, wiping at tears he refused to let fall. 

“I don’t know what to do with Cheollie. If he can’t eat due to the nausea he can’t take a fever reducer and while his temperature has gone down a bit with the shower I don’t doubt it will rise again.”

Seungcheol chose that moment to wake up again, turning to his side and staring at them with glassy eyes. Then his attention went to Jeonghan and even despite his own state he seemed to know that Jeonghan was not doing well. It was beautiful to see the close friendship between their oldest hyungs. 

“Hannie?”, Seungcheol rasped and reached out to him. “Why are you crying?”

He seemed much more conscious than earlier, causing Jeonghan to smile at him.

“I’m really worried about you, ddadu”, he explained, “you’re really sick.”

Seungcheol nodded. “I feel bad. How are the others?”

It was the most Seungcheol he had sounded since his earlier collapse. 

“Minghao, Joshua, Seungkwan and Vernon are asleep and okay. Much better than you are”, Jeonghan said, purposefully leaving out Jihoon.

But that seemed to catch Seungcheol’s attention. “How is Jihoonie?”

Dino stepped forward, ignoring the warning look he received from his second oldest hyung.

“Woozi-hyung is really sick, hyung”, Dino explained, “he can’t keep anything down and he fainted just now.”

Seungcheol’s eyes went wide and he tried to push himself up from the mattress. Jeonghan pushed him down and hissed: “Cheollie, stay where you are! Lee Chan, stop talking.”

“Let him”, Jun said and placed a hand on Dino’s shoulder, winking at him and told him to continue.

“He needs an IV to get some medication. But, we have a bit of a problem and I think you can help us with it, hyung.”

“He’s scared, isn’t he? Let me go to him”, Seungcheol asked and despite his slowly vanishing strength and Jeonghan’s hand holding him down, tried to get up again.

“No, that’s not it”, Dino continued, “the thing is that we only have one IV left. The choice is between you and Woozi-hyung.”

“Give it to Jihoon”, Seungcheol said immediately, “I don’t care, give it to him.”

“That’s the plan”, Dino lied - well, it was not really a lie, was it? They had considered it. “You see how worried Hannie-hyung is, hm? We all are worried. We’d feel much better if you ate something and took some fever reducers, hyung. That would make the choice much easier for us.”

Finally understanding dawned on Jeonghan’s face and he turned to Seungcheol again, caressing his face. “Please eat a bit for me.”

Despite looking like he wanted to do anything but eat, Seungcheol nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If it helps Jihoonie, I’ll eat.”

“Thank you, hyung”, Dino said with a bright smile and took the bowl and spoon he had prepared earlier to feed it to the leader. When he turned around, Jun and the medic had already left.

💎🐯

“It’s going to be okay, baby”, Soonyoung promised again, holding Jihoon’s hand tightly. The younger had blanched when the medic had walked in - something that Soonyoung hadn’t even been aware he was able to do considering his normally pale skin and the ashen look he had sported all day - and looked like he wanted to burst into tears any moment.

It was just the two of them and the medic in the room now, as well as Minghao who was so deeply asleep that Soonyoung was sure not even a cannon going off by his ears would wake him. It was a nice change to his normally anxious and light sleep.

Jun had gone to accompany a blushing and exhausted Wonwoo to one of the bathrooms on the upper floor which hopefully were a bit more private. Wonwoo had been so exhausted and pained when he had exited the bathroom, cheeks flushed red. It was probably good to remove him from the situation for all their sakes.

“I’ll be careful”, the medic said, “and the medication should help your nausea so you can hopefully just go to sleep. If you stay asleep long enough I can just remove it before you wake up.”

Jihoon nodded. “Just do it, please.”

He winced as the needle went in, resolutely refusing to look at it. His hand squeezed Soonyoung’s tightly and there were tears in the corners of his eyes that Soonyoung wiped away with his thumbs.

“It’s okay. You did it”, the dancer whispered, “you’re gonna be okay, baby. Don’t worry anymore.”

“Thanks, Young-ah”, Jihoon said, “for everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, idiot. We got each other, you know that.”

“Yeah.”

The medic banaged the arm, even using more stripes than probably necessary to hide the whole apparatus in his arm from accidentally being seen. Soonyoung appreciated it a lot - he knew that as much as Jihoon insisted that he just didn’t like the proximity of strangers when sick he also was a bit squeamish about this kind of thing. He winced a bit as the IV seemed to move under his skin but he seemed to not be able to care anymore. Soonyoung was glad - he didn’t want to admit it but he was tired too after that night and the sooner Jihoon slept the sooner he could sleep. It would benefit them both more than anything now. The medic hung up the bag on the railing of the upper bunk, as he had with Minghao’s, and nodded.

Then seemingly remembering at the same time as Soonyoung, the medic turned around to see that Minghao’s IV was empty. “I’ll take it out and then I’ll go.”

While the older man was occupied, Soonyoung sat down on Jihoon’s bedside and stroked his hair away from his face again. “Sleep, Jihoonie. I’ll wake you up in a bit when the medicine had a chance to help so you can get a bit rehydrated, okay? Maybe even eat some of the juk.”

The young producer nodded, eyes already falling shut. His hand sneaked to hold Soonyoung’s wrist in a tight but not hurting grip. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t.” Somebody would wake them if needed he decided and fluids could wait a little longer.

Soonyoung slipped under the covers with Jihoon, letting the younger choose how much space he wanted. The answer seemed to be none. Within seconds Soonyoung had a warm ball of asleep human curled up on his chest. He was asleep soon after.

💎😇

Seungcheol was medicated and had been able to keep down the juk. Seungkwan and Vernon were asleep. Even Dino had gone to sleep in on the air mattress after Jeonghan had convinced him that he should get all the rest he could.

Seokmin and Mingyu were asleep in the other room, on top of one another. Joshua too was fast asleep.

Jeonghan had even peeked into the last room only to find the medic shushing him as he exited, gesturing towards the three sleeping members. 

If Jeonghan now has seven new pictures saved on his phone, nobody needed to know.

On his way upstairs he met Jun, who had his arm wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist. The rapper looked pale and sick but Jun waved Jeonghan’s concern off, citing he would get Wonwoo to sleep and then join Jeonghan on the deck.

Jeonghan stepped towards the railing, grasping it into a tight hold. He had managed to hold it back all day, but now that everybody was asleep, he was trembling. It was like his body understood that he wasn’t needed at the moment and now pressured him to fall apart.

And fall apart Jeonghan did.

A loud sob rang through the silence, even straddling Jeonghan himself. Then he fell to his knees, crying his heart out. He had been so scared all day, all through the night. It was nearly morning and he hadn’t eaten since lunch, hadn’t slept a wink and had been running around to care for sick members for hours. He had never wanted so much responsibility and still he was scared that they had made a mistake.

What if Seungcheol couldn’t keep the food and the fever reducer down? What if he got worse again despite it?

What if somebody else needed it? 

What if somebody else fell sick or one of the members got worse and they had no medication left?

He was so scared. 

Jeonghan pressed his hands to his lips, hoping to stifle the cries and be able to get a grip on himself before Jun found him like that. He couldn't burden the younger any further.

But his prayers weren’t heard. Footsteps came into his direction and soon Jeonghan was gathered in a warm embrace. “Breathe, hyung. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Jeonghan knew that, he could actually feel his stomach sloshing badly, but he couldn’t calm down. He just cried.

In the end he had no idea how long they sat there like that, Jun holding Jeonghan as he cried but when Jeonghan finally managed to stop sobbing and lift his head, the sun was peeking out from the ocean. 

“Look, hyung”, Jun whispered and pointed out into the vast sea.

A ship was on the far horizon. 

Jeonghan pushed Jun away and hauled himself over the railing, vomiting up bile. His stomach was so empty it hurt. Before everything went black, he heard Jun shout his name but he couldn’t respond. He was too tired.

💎😇

Jeonghan woke up in a hospital bed. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light. A warm weight was on his lap and as he looked down he saw a mob of dark hair sprawled over him.

“Cheollie?”, he rasped.

The leader gasped as he woke up but when he saw Jeonghan awake he burst into a smile.

“How are you feeling?”, Jeonghan asked, confused. What was going on?

“I feel like I should be asking the question, seeing that you are on a hospital bed and I am not”, Seungcheol answered lightly. “I am fine though. I haven’t puked in over twenty-four hours and the fever has been gone for twelve.”

Hot and cold shock went through Jeonghan’s body. How long had he been asleep? What about the members?

“Don’t worry about the kids”, Seungcheol said as if he had read Jeonghan’s mind, “they are fine. The medical ship arrived shortly after you passed out, I’m told. Minghao-yah was up and happy in the morning, he’s just a bit tired still. Kwan-ah is feeling much recovered. Vernonie is still not eating much but he is well enough. Wonwoo-yah isn’t looking anybody in the eyes but fine. Jihoonie is able to keep food down now after the IV. Channie and Soonyoungie started getting sick on the evacuation boat but the medics all around did a good job, they are fine too. Now just you need to get better.”

Finally Jeonghan felt like he could breathe. It was over.

Notes: Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this fic for so long! Thank you for all likes, reblogs and comments! I love you!

Special thanks and a big hug to my amazing beta-readers @dudadragneel and @sickiecloud!!! I love you, guys!

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[altocat]

I have been thinking of that ask in what is Lucrecia ran off to make a new family, and your answer to how that would impact Sephiroth.

It was scary, to think that one event, a topple of one’s perception could really change someone, to lose their ideals of compassion and kindness. The thought terrified me, that he was one bad event away to change.

Then I remembered the Nibelheim incident and that’s almost exactly what happened. Almost, I say, because every thought had its own influences. Him becoming a bitter and hateful person in this alternate universe would also have its influences.

Did it mean that he was ‘bad’ all along, that there was a ‘dormant madness’ all along waiting to be triggered, making him a monster in the end?

No…

To view others like this would strip them of their own humanity and it is a very limited, unforgiving, and rigid lens towards the weaker parts of ourselves.

If something like that happens to me, I wonder how I would change? If I let my emotions take over me, let myself forget…

It goes to show that there’s strength that needs to be exercised to be conscious of those things, so that you’d be strong enough to hold on to what you believe in, your kindness and compassion, when it’s really hard.

And that is my reflective tangent.

You're talking about the One Bad Day Principle lolol Which has its relevancy in lots of villain backstories. Sephiroth's is no exception.

And before anyone suggests that Sephiroth HAD some level of dormant evil within him, I'd like to point out that his set of circumstances were highly abnormal and the factors leading to Nibelheim were already a million layers of severely traumatic and messed up. The fact that he held on for as long as he did really says something about who he was as a person beforehand. It doesn't excuse his actions of course. In the end, he still becomes an irredeemable monster. But there is a necessary component within narratives that lead into the beats that constitute madness or self-destruction. And I think there would have been many opportunities, AU or otherwise, for Sephiroth to snap.

[doxiedreg]

Its once again 11 pm and I once again have not eaten dinner yet because being depressed makes me dysfunctional especially when it comes to food

I'm going to be so glad to be with my mom on Saturday, I always eat well at my mom's

But when I'm alone and going through a depressive episode my diet is shit, i eat very little and very delayed and making a proper meal feels like too much work so i dont have a well rounded diet like I usually do and dear god why must my depression be like this

Why must it deprive me of food

Food is so important

It's not that I hate food, it's not that I'm afraid to get fat or anything (and getting fat wouldn't be bad in any way either) but I just do not care. I do not feel like eating anything and everything feels as too much work to prepare. I do not crave anything and thus do not know what to eat and resolve it by not eating at all

It sucks so hard guys, my stomach freaking hurts and is begging me to eat food but I don't want to get up and even if I did get up I wouldn't know what the fuck I want to eat

My depression has been going on for like almost a month at this point I'm so fucking sick of it, let me fucking go back to being a somewhat functional human who's able to enjoy things instead of being apathy incarnate who desires to lie in bed all day

[florallylly]

i've seen model steve harrington aus. i've seen child steve harrington aus. i present: child model steve harrington

note: this came from my own desperate need to see this conceptualized and i SWEAR i've searched, i just can't find any content with child model steve so. :(

bc little steve harrington was remarkably cherub-like. his large brown eyes and soft pout ensured endless cooing and fussing from his mom's friends. and when he blushed and ducked his head in shyness, they only complimented him more. when he got home that day, his mom smiled at him.

so steve decided that he would put up with the cheek pinching and the squealing. he sat upright in his chair, sitting on his hands so he wouldn't fidget and ruin the image. because he'd do anything to keep his mom smiling at him. if he was being particularly good that day, she'd let him lay his head on her lap on the drive back home.

but everything changed at his father's birthday gala. a nearly eight year old steve harrington sat prim and proper in his seat, but a smile lit up his face--his cheeks round and his dimples showing up. he raised his hand up to cover his giggle, but he couldn't help but laugh at some silly old man with a loose toupee. then he sees his mom approaching, and his face quickly smooths over, going back to the more polite smile he usually adopted when it came to these events.

he'd ruined it. he hadn't continued being the sweet boy his mom wanted. but then, she smiles at him. and introduces him to the man behind her, who says he's a designer. the man holds out his hand, but when steve puts his hand into his palm, he doesn't shake it. the man simply holds his hand, his eyes scanning steve's face. steve tries not to squirm under the attention. but the man nods and smiles at his mom, and he gives two brief cheek kisses to steve, whispering in his ear "you're going to be a star, darling." steve looks at his mom, confused, but she waves him off to continue talking to the man.

a few months later, steve's mom whisks him off on a trip to france. and steve is so excited to go, nearly vibrating in his seat as the airplane prepares to take off. but instead of the eiffel tower and the seine, steve is taken to a studio. he's posed and changed. once again, he's being fussed over, but instead of wealthy socialites, gossiping make-up artists squeal over him. he's "perfect for the shoot" and "the most darling little boy." steve doesn't understand, but his mom is still smiling, so he lets the nice ladies brush powder over his face.

and he looks in the mirror. his hair is a little more tousled and his lips have a slight tint to them and his eyes seem to take up much of his face. he's put into new clothes, and he feels like a doll in their hands. and when he's put in front of the camera, he simply follows the photographer's directions. afterwards, he's bundled into the car and his mom can't stop gushing about how good he was.

apparently, he's a natural. and then she goes back to fussing over him, focusing more on appearance than his behavior now. but she takes him out shopping and they eat at an upscale restaurant along the champs-elysses. and steve is happy.

and then they go back home, and his mom is so much stricter than before. she has him try out all kinds of different hair products, determined to find the best combination to keep it looking shiny and soft. she controls his food intake and what he wears and makes him use weird creams and serums on his face. but this is what makes his mom happy, so he's happy to let her.

his mom is also on the phone a lot more lately, whispering harshly about the quality of brands and steve just assumes she's being picky about the clothes she buys. later, his mom picks him up and holds him, and asks if he'd like to move to italy. she looks at him intently and it's obvious what answer she wants, so steve nods. she smiles and holds him close, and it's the most loved steve has felt in a while.

so they move to italy, and suddenly steve is a lot more busy. he's put in front of more cameras for more people he doesn't know. but he's smiling and pouting and doing whatever they want him to do. his compliant attitude and polite nature have photographers and designers alike singing his praises, and steve always looks to his mom for approval. but she's been arguing with his dad a lot lately, so she's upset more often than not. but that's okay, the make-up artists are always kind to him.

but then one day, his mom takes a phone call in the middle of the shoot. and when it finishes, she's gone. steve goes back in, close to tears, but the make-up artists still hanging around look after him until a car is sent to pick him up. this becomes a trend. and eventually, steve goes alone to his shoots. he's always taken care of by the crew and someone is always there to pick him up, but it's not fun without his mom there.

but he knows that she's always enjoyed him taking pictures, so he continues to do so, hoping that she'll come watch him again sometime soon. and he busies himself with befriending the chatty make-up artists and the bossy photographers and the eccentric designers. and he's such a cute little thing that they can't help but dote on him.

steve is never catapulted into child stardom, as his mom is picky with his jobs, only choosing luxury brands and well known designers for him. but within the industry, they call him the "little prince."

and then steve is catapulted into puberty, but his intense skin regimen prevents him from getting acne, save for the occasional zit. and his diet and religious exercise schedule help maintain his look. and he's still doing remarkably well, especially now that he's fully aware that he is a Model.

and steve has truly grown into his looks. with time, he's grown more comfortable in front of the camera and made numerous friends. nearly all of them are older than him, but they're fun and loud and it fills up the space that normally surrounds him. and they're the ones who get him hooked on american movies. steve remembers living in america, but he's been in milan so long that everything he recalls is vague.

but he watches them and falls in love with the american high school experience. so when he finally catches his mom off the phone and actually in the house, steve asks if he can go to school in america. and his mom laughs. but steve keeps asking, which devolves into begging. and his mother snaps, slapping him across the face and calling him ungrateful. she cries and begs for forgiveness, cowed into shame by steve's desperate attempt to hold back tears.

and so she lets him go to school in hawkins, indiana. an odd choice, but his parents just so happened to own a property there. (in truth, both of his parents expected him to change his mind within the year). but steve finds his place at hawkins high, because even though nobody in hawkins has ever heard of versace, steve is pretty. he's pretty and charming and he knows the right thing to say. after all, he's spent his whole life perfecting his mask.

and even if his mom ended up moving back home with his dad, leaving steve all alone in that big empty house, steve is happy. he's finally hanging out with people his age and high school is so far removed from the glitz and glam of the fashion industry. and he's settled and content with tommy and carol by his side. while he misses his friends back in milan, steve finds himself longing for the clothes more often. hawkins was certainly the opposite of milan, what with the nearest mall being two hours away and only equipped with a macy's and jcpenny.

through it all, steve is determined to be normal. he laughs along with jokes he doesn't quite get and rolls his eyes at carol's cue, and he joins the swim team. and he joins the basketball team. and he goes to parties and kisses girls and wears dumb little polos with his letterman jacket and does everything that he saw in the movies.

but nancy wheeler is different. steve can't forget his time in italy and who he is and was, and he's reminded of his old life in everyone and everything in hawkins. but not nancy wheeler. she's all hawkins and all his. and then the upside down happens.

and then nancy wheeler breaks his heart.

even after three years, his parents continue to ask when he'll go back to modeling, but he's different now. the upside down and billy hargrove beat that starry eyed little kid who thrived in the spotlight. and nancy wheeler proved that adoration and love is fleeting, so what would even be the point of trying anymore? his dad was a little more approving of steve's retirement/hiatus, saying that steve must want to go to college so he can take over the family business.

but when steve doesn't get into college, he's once again badgered by his mom to go back. but he's grown and changed and he's not sure that he can pretend anymore, so he says no. and they cut him off. enter: scoops era.

the measly scoops salary is not nearly enough to cover all of the new bills and expenses steve has, but he's not willing to leave hawkins. so he reaches out to his friends back in italy, and they refer him to their american connections. steve doesn't model at the same level as before, but he poses for a couple of zines and one artist who got a little too handsy at his exhibition. but he's able to make it through until the mall blows up.

this routine continues and he starts working at family video with robin at his side, but he keeps his side job a secret from the kids, using the excuse of visiting his parents to leave town for his shoots. he's not ashamed, but he knows he wouldn't "be normal" anymore if they found out.

but how does he explain his near mental breakdown at the sight of his healing demobat scars. they're raised and ugly, ruining what should have been a perfect body. and even though he uses scar cream everyday, they refuse to fade away completely. and how could anyone stand to be near such an ugly thing when all his life, steve was meant to be pretty? after all, love and adoration is fleeting.

[toldentops]

talk about kinoga. NOW.

GAH I JUST THINK THEY ARE SO............. well first of all. they are so cute and handsome. look at them right now

Second of all I have one million feelings about them and it's barely an exaggeration. For those who aren't familiar, Kinoga is one of my beloved splatoon ocs and I think about them all the time. Originally made when I tossed a "what-if" idea about Trito, my first splatoon oc, who was once part of the octarian military, if he runs into one of the old squad members on the surface, and Kinoga was born with the help of @igneouskit. Brainworms ensue. its terminal. check out their toyhouse

(extremely brief rundown for those unfamiliar with splatoon lore the relevant bits are as follows: some octolings are part of a military that were forced underground after a war with the Inklings over land due to rising seas. At some point during the plot, the song Calamari Inkantation is sung by the two idols, which is apparently imbued in the DNA of all creatures and compels octolings to see the surface. In the splatoon 2 DLC, octo expansion, some octolings are recruited by a shady company called Kamabo Co, which entices participants to enroll in tests through a deep sea metro, and offers the "promised land" as a reward. Completing the tests entails collecting parts of a blender, and the "reward" is getting blended into sludge. This sludge can get injected into other octos which causes them to lose their will and consciousness ("sanitization").

timeline-wise much of their story takes place between splat 2, through octo expansion, and is currently in the splat 3 era. When they were still in the military, they ended up hearing the Calamari Inkantation like Agent 8 did. Kinoga and their squad were incredibly close to each other. Unwilling to just up and leave the underground but wanting to give their squadmates a better life, Kinoga hears about Kamabo's "promised land" and wants to seek it out, so they leave the squad to embark on the metros and promises to return. They do not <3 Some of the tests make them encounter sanitized octolings and they begin to question what's really happening in the metros. Their tipping point is when they run into Agara, one of their squadmates that decided to enter the metros to look for Kinoga and ends up being sanitized. Kinoga, facing the crushing realization that their squadmates had followed them, unaware of the danger, narrowly escapes being killed by Agara and eventually makes it to the surface.

This results in them experiencing a good amount of crushing guilt about leaving, they never knew it would lead to the possibility of dooming their whole squad that followed after them because they were loved and trusted. Kinoga had no way of letting the rest of them know that they should turn back and it's so. AAUGH. They have no choice but to continue on, finding life on the surface and eventually making it to splatsville with the belief that the rest of the squad may be gone. Agara and Trito end up running through the metro, Agara gets sanitized and Trito survives, albeit without getting a nasty scar from an accident that nearly got him sanitized.

Trito makes me insane also. he's my funny silly rabbit. I care about him so so much. trito goes through the metros, to maybe catch up with kinoga or meet them at the promised land, trusting that it was worth leaving if Kinoga decided it was worth it for all of them too.

Trito, upon learning about The Horrors in the metro later, realizes what could have happened to Kinoga and Agara and is unwilling to return to the rest of the squad with this knowledge, struck by the possibility that they're both gone. <-also has to realize that these horrible things have been happening to all the octlings that left to go do the metro tests. He too, eventually escapes to the surface and makes it to Inkopolis.

Years later, Trito, on a day trip to Splatsville, encounters Kinoga on the streets, and they lock eyes. and. fuck. They thought they were dead and had dealt with the grief and accepting that they were gone, effectively pushing those thoughts aside, and now they're physically in front of each other and they have to deal with it again. they make me SICK. Kinoga knowing that trito went to the metros and followed them and made it out also. Trito knowing that Kinoga experienced the horrors as well and survived. Neither of them able to return to tell the rest of the squad but they're both here, alive on the surface and aarrghhhhhhh. now they have to cope with this. they hastily exchange contact information, having to leave each other again, and end up meeting later to really catch up.

I'm so normal about kinoga and their relationship to trito post-domes. They don't even realize that they miss each other so much because they accepted that they were already gone. Seeing how much the other had changed. Being each other's only tie to their previous lives and it dawns on them that they never can move on from this. Kinoga struggles to tell Trito that they couldn't bring themselves to go back, not knowing if they could escape a second time, not knowing if any of their teammates were still left, already dealing with occasional spurts of being wracked by grief. Trito feeling the same, wanting to forget the terrible things and find happiness on the surface, but disheartened when learning that Kinoga also couldn't bring themselves to go back to look (though now that the both of them are together.....they do eventually muster the courage to go back to the domes to look for their old squadmates). It like. sucks so bad. They didn't intend to abandon their squad, but they were given circumstances where they just could not, and none of the other squad members could have known and suffer for it. aarghhhhh.

They end up at Trito's place, Kinoga and Trito end up being very affectionate towards each other after reuniting, definitely Trito being clingier...Compelled to hold onto each other and not let go, not after feeling so much regret about leaving in the first place. It's like. they left once before and terrible things happened out of their control, so they're allowed to hold each other as close as they can so it doesn't happen again (THE DEMONS) (GRIPS). it's irrational for Trito especially to think that he'll never see Kinoga again when they have to leave, since they live in separate cities and have to go in the morning. and kinoga knows it's irrational and they do their best to comfort him anyways because. who could blame him for wanting to keep them there after being gone for so long and so unexpectedly. The slow, crushing experience of not fully registering that someone could be gone and it creeps up to them until it hits. auuuuugh. they have to be so tender with each other, not really knowing where to take things afterwards but relishing in the moment of having each other there. riding the high of each other's comfort. fuck. this post is just getting worse as it goes. Trito breaking down in Kinoga's arms because he's had to hold in his grief and having nowhere to put it and then finally being able to release it. just being able to feel Something again. kinoga feeling so heartbroken to see trito like this, remembering that he was always so outspoken and smiling and having him curled up against them unable to say anything. holding him as tightly as they can. Feeling the need to take good care of him. They aren't his squad leader anymore but they still feel compelled to look out for him because then they can feel like they're doing at least something right. whatever. you guys get the gist. I'm way too much of a sucker for like...............pained intimacy. I'm down terrible. I think both of them deserve a little kissy and more. again. very touchy and affectionate with each other, I guess theyre still like "friends" (A WARRIOR'S BOND. OR WHATEVER) and are not "together" like a couple but here are words from igneouskit who put it better then I could ever. they love each other so much and they make me blow up. worlds most situationship

and also one bit I forgot to mention is that Trito has a huge scar on his chest that he hates talking about, it just brings back the fear and pain felt when he got it, and by association reminds him that he's alone from his squad who may never see again, so he's very protective of it. Upon getting back to kinoga, they do find out about the scar accidentally, and Trito lets them. like auuuugh they were so familiar with each other and now get to see what's changed since the last time. exploring eachother's bodies. whatever

Kinoga also ends up feeling really guilty at some point for Trito being immediately so affectionate towards them, they harbor thoughts that they don’t deserve it after having him go through that pain, and trito having to tell them that he made his own decision, nobody was forcing him to go, and besides, did it to see kinoga and now that they’re right in front of him he can give him all the love he’s been holding for them. Auuughhhh. Like don’t worry about feeling guilty for it. It wasn’t their fault. What matters to him now is that they’re both alive and with each other. I feel like blowing up

Even after Kinoga goes back to splatsville the next day trito is still aches about them......like a few days of reunion could never be enough to compensate for the years that they spent apart. every time they meet up after that trito jumps in kinoga's arms and kiss them like it was the first time they'd reunited

anyways. they eventually go back down to the domes to find the others. By that time, Agent 8 had dismantled Kamabo, the Sludge shit was no longer in operation, and octolings have started going to the surface. Kanu, another squad member, left the domes to find Kinoga, Agara, and Trito(jilon was another squad member who left for reasons I haven't decided yet). Denchu, the last remaining member, stayed behind, holding on to the hope that the missing members would someday return (denchu is a whole other can of worms. theyre everything to me and I feel so terrible for them <3). Trito and kinoga meet denchu, they update them on everybody else, leaving agara unaccounted for. Kinoga, who was the only one to see Agara firsthand, knowing that she might be completely unsalvageable, hesitates to bring it up, but Trito insists on going to look for her. aughhh. kinoga wants to spare trito the pain of seeing her dead or unconscious. They do eventually find her </3

She is alive, but not doing well at all, Kinoga desperate to maybe find some way to undo sanitization and restore her to full health, knowing full well that it may not be possible. They take Agara back with them to the surface and Kinoga spends a lot of time agonizing again over having caused this, feeling that agara's state is somehow their fault (ITS NOTT they're beating themselves up so bad for this because they feel responsible for the squad. aughhh).

I think thats all I have for kinoga. for now. obviously there are more thoughts I can get into but currently my brain has just latched so hard on trito and kinoga's fun situation and I love them so much. didn't think I'd get attached to them this bad but here we are </3. I hope everyone who has read this far also enjoys them as much as I do

[trans-cuchulainn]

had a really interesting convo yesterday about ethics and whether intent or results matters (eg if you tried to make an ethical purchasing choice but the business was actually exploitative as hell, does that "count") and very much came to the conclusion that sure, if you're concerned with your personal immortal soul, as a christian might be, then intention counts. but if what you're focused on is your impact on the world, then intention means nothing if the actions have negative results, right? (that doesn't mean you're to blame for them! you didn't know! but you also don't get "ethics points" for trying, you know?)

and this also got me thinking about the whole christian idea that sinful thoughts are as bad as sinful actions because. they're just not imo. maybe for the sake of your Immortal Soul they are points against you, if that's your jam. but in terms of putting good into the world, in terms of your impact on other people, the ONLY thing that matters is what you choose to do with those thoughts. there is no way that "was kind to someone who was pissing me off, for the sake of community harmony" or "helped an acquaintance with a task even though I felt resentful about the time spent doing that" is a Bad Thing for the world

and it made me wonder how much purity culture and thought policing is rooted in (mostly evangelical) cultural christianity and this idea that ethical choices are an individual thing because what matters is the impact of them on YOUR soul and not, you know, things we do because of what we owe the world around us / because of love for others / because a world where people are trying to put good into it is a hell of a lot nicer to live in than one where people are only worried about themselves

i grew up evangelical but like. fairly mild evangelical and even though there wasn't a big focus on hell and stuff, i definitely fixated on imperfect thoughts and behaviours that were putting absolutely no harm into the world, rather than focusing on what i could do to put good into it, and that individualistic vs outward-focused approach to morality has been something i've grappled with a lot as an adult. but i never really thought about it as simply as this and really that's what it boils down to. are you making the ethical choice because you're trying to put good in the world, or because it would make you a "good person" to do so? because the answer to that 100% defines whether it's the thought or the result that counts

[lgbtlunaverse]

I cannot stress enough how MINOR of a petpeeve this is and how this is an interpretation that i'm comfortable with other people having even if i personally do not but I've noticed in a lot of 3zun fics, if jgy is holding smth back- generally his own feelings because his natural reaction to conflict is to make it Go Away and so if his emotional needs are the potential source conflict he will simply Not Look At Them.- That between nielan Xichen is the one who's worried and presses for comunication and Mingjue is like "Meng Yao is an adult if there was a problem he'd say so."

And I get why this is done, because nieyao's communication is generally atrocious and Xichen is the Gentle One who'd want to make sure a-yao is okay. So I get it. But. Canonically. The person going "I know a-yao, we trust each other, I don't need to ask him, he'll tell me on his own terms." is Lan Xichen and the one going "If Meng Yao doesn't want me to know something he WILL hide it from me and i'll have no idea because he's just that good at lying" is Nie Mingjue. And in a healthier nieyao dynamic, as these fics work under, that knowledge would not lead to automatic distrust but rather a desire to check in, to go: please remember that I value your honesty more than whatever you think you would burden me with by telling me what's going on.

Xichen also wants honesty and open communication ofc but his reaction to conflict is also to make it go away as fast as possible and he feels like saying it constantly feels accusatory so he wouldn't. If he asks if something is ok and a-yao smiles and goes of course er-ge checking again if it's really okay would be implying he was lying the first time!! He's showing his trust in him!! This is really refreshing if you're constantly assumed to be untrustworthy and meng yao appreciates it so much and it works really well 95% of the time but when it doesn't? Oh boy.

[leninisms]

every day i wake up and remember that the sick as fuck title “atlas shrugged” was already used by my mortal nemesis ayn rand

[junkosblunt]

Junko: "The most despair I have ever felt in my life was killing my sister."

Mukuro, in the afterlife: "JUNKO LOVES ME MORE! SUCK IT, YASUKE!"

no because i know mukuro’s weird ass was lowkey thrilled when junko murdered yasuke because it was one less person to steal junko’s attention away from her 💀

[spaghett-onaplate]

i don't think i really get angry, maybe a bit annoyed sometimes, but mostly i just get sad instead. i had a long conversation with my friend about how our minds work and also became conscious of how quiet my mind is. kind of numb. idk it used to be loud but i think that could just have been being a kid

[windupaidoneus]

this need for approval is a fucking disease it is absolutely mind boggling that i need feedback on what i say & post or my mind decides everyone takes a look at it & goes yep here goes this annoying freak again talking about his annoying freak things. & im not even like that with everyone. it literally does not fucking matter oh my goddd grow UP! im normal now. i understand my minds machinations. misto is nodding in approval at me

[whatudottu]

Something about Altered Loyalties CYLAS just really makes me want to include him in the first place but also makes me really really REALLY think that with the more supernatural elements of AL based off of the original TFP pilot (or just first episode/s?) that CYLAS as a ‘dead man walking’ would actually let him stay around longer AND also be a very significant contributing factor to Megatron’s downfall in Decepticon favour!

Of course it’s not as if I have the pieces of the TFP rewrite au firmly put into place, CYLAS in canon shows up just over halfway into season 2, and many of my most established changes occur in the first like… including all the parts of ‘Darkness Rising’ 8 episodes of season one; I have no idea if the environment CYLAS presents himself in is the same one canon CYLAS does.

But with the dubiousity between s1 e8 all the way to s2 e19, I’ll establish the basic context… I think in story mode maybe…

Looking at the general timeline for the Aligned Continuity, it says that the first contact of cybertronians on Earth is dated to about 500 years before the show, give or take a decade. I’ve been listing Skyquake’s little EHP pitstop to have existed at least 50 years before the war reached our planet, but what if I pushed it all the way back to 500; if a vorn is 83 years, that’d be about 6 years on an entirely different planet not knowing truly if your twin is going to make it, a planet which by the way presently has no established radio systems that it’s horrifically quiet for a terrestrial environment.

That means that Skyquake’s EHP Comms Array has been transmitting a signal long before humans had developed radio, which also means that what might’ve been blatantly an anomaly in the system if discovered 50 odd years previous to 2012 (which would’ve been in the 60s give or take which would not have been good in the literal middle of the cold war era) has been going for centuries because it had always been there, there is no anomaly because it is a signal that has existed ever since humans were able to manipulate radiowaves into sending messages and translate them into detectable noise. It helps that cybertronian language and code (both code lang and like literal programming code) is a system unknown to humans developing their own language.

And you may be asking, why did I divert this post from talking about CYLAS and how he’d outlast his canon alternate to radio shit? Well, if you were a paramilitary organisation who is pretty good at erasing signals and you discovered a signal that has been actively running for the entirety of human radio has suddenly been silenced, what would you begin to suspect at that?

Aliens may potentially be a stretch but MECH didn’t just name themselves after the cybertronians fighting war on their planet, and once the cybertronian conflict touched down on Earth, the Decepticons hadn’t a need for an intergalactic communications array and in fact was specifically instructed to switch it off in an effort to prevent the Autobots from using it. That would’ve been about maybe 6 years ago for the show (wow just enough equivalent time to match what Skyquake felt he spent grounded to one radio tower look at that) and though MECH would not encounter their first cybertronian until ‘Convoy’ (haha wait that’s s1 e9 the next ep to cover - if necessary - for Altered Loyalties lmao), they would’ve had 6 years to find that missing signal and stumble across some very definitely alien technology.

That is one of the reasons why the rewrite of ‘Masters and Students’ which is less masters and students focused - rather the point is Skyquake, a team of Nemesis stationed vehcions and Starscream investigate the comms array and set it up manually - why the radio tower wasn’t switching on from a remote position.

The other reason was because the Guardian unit stationed at the comms array - the very ones that had accompanied Skyquake all those stellar cycles ago - had gone missing. Why?

Because of Megatron’s flagrant use of Dark Energon.

Points 1 and 2 listed above leads to the explosion of the comms array, the death of Skyquake, and MECH either being alerted to the point of alien contact or just in general going to the site for more study only to find a dead specimen. After the discovery of the Autobots with the body of Skyquake, MECH begins their initial study and dissection of cybertronian physiology, though without a live subject they couldn’t exactly see what parts function in what way, especially the t-cog.

The discovery of Skyquake led to the discovery of terrorcons which lead to the discovery of how to take down a cybertron and how to take it apart without it screaming. MECH would learn the programming of a cybertronian through vehicon terrorcons since, even with DE corruption, their processors are still somewhat being maintained. While probably not able to access memories (they are fickle things, memory centres, easy to damage storage or to corrupt files) there are still systems responsible for pain and other more processor based responsibilities that aren’t centred in a physical organ that reads in fine print it’s function.

Breakdown being MECH’s first fully functional living mecha for their study is so exciting for them (even if Breakdown is very much less enthused) because they can put what knowledge they’ve pieced together to be far more efficient with their time and focus on the elements they could not decipher from either corpse or zombie and potentially try and prod at Breakdown’s brain for some cohesive coding. Good think Bulkhead still shows up when he does even with Breakdown walking away with the dreadful thought of ‘how the hell do these fleshies already know so much’ boring into his head… mainly through the optic that was still drilled out-

Whether or not MECH needs to get another living cybertronian to get caught up in their understanding of the biomechanics of them (aka would 'Operation: Bumblebee' take place as it does) or they skip right onto making a remote control Prime having gotten a headstart on their knowledge and scaring the scrap out of any bot unlucky enough to be unconscious around them, eventually Silas gets smooshed and MECH scientists are reliant on their alien dissections to get the human puree back to the land of the living.

I'd assume that this was the case in the original since if Silas' biomatter was able to be collected from a pile of robot drone induced rubble the RC truck would've been able to be recovered as well, but MECH discovers that using Nemesis Prime as a lifesupport system does not work given all it's functionality is focused on visually replicating another cybertronian, rather than using it to create life. There's a lot of parts and systems to a cybertronian's biological ecology that wasn't put into consideration for a mimic toy that prove detrimental to creating a suitable ah... skin suit essentially for Silas' blood pudding, but MECH has an abundance of corpses ready and raring to be used just so long as they piece them back together again.

Amid MECH's collection would no doubt be a mass of vehicon bodies - some untouched by energon others taken down explicitly by MECH because they were terrorcons - some terrorcons made up from the bodies of the previous conflict pre-show (and not just a hypothetical ancient war, but explicitly the conflict that culled a lot of Autobot and Decepticon officers amid the show expected vehicon death), and the very first cybertronian sample they started studying, Skyquake himself! Being at the origin of the blast at the EHP Comms Array he wasn't kept in perfect condition for one, the arm he loses as a terrorcon in the Shadowzone is still lost - it's been buried under rubble after being severed with radio tower pieces - and the monochromatic glass over his optics has long since been shattered so you can see the 'pupil' aka sensor, but seeing as how CYLAS makes Breakdown's corpse somehow look worse than what Airachnid left it as MECH probably has to suture that fucker back up because there's not way his organs have been left untouched!

And once CYLAS has been successfully integrated into his new cybertronian shell (some sort of arm, either being a loaner from another corpse or straight up just one MECH invented, it could even be a copy of the missing arm but where's the fun in that) instead of getting all high and mighty about 'being of a superior species' Silas actually bloody thinks on MECH's plans going forward. With a literal army of paramilitary personnel, from the scientists that melded human flesh with cybertronian wires to the average grunt soldier fighting between the battles of iron giants, CYLAS has something that Megatron (at least the Altered Loyalties Megatron I have written previously) has wanted from the start of the series...

An undying force.

For as large as cybertronians physically are their numbers can never match the scale of humanity, I can't remember if the books mentioned only thousands of the dead or up to a million over the course of like... a long fucking time but, that's not even the number of the human population if you're caught up with the number (nearly 8 billion alive today). And with the dead of previous battles already roaming the Earth, in a world where Megatron still being only like one dude can't command a planet wide population of zombies, the only reason he doesn't turn his blade to the weakest denominators of his forces in his plagued state is because their conscious decision to serve him is worth more than mindless servitude.

CYLAS introducing himself and MECH as a solution to this issue, and providing a show of bountiful body horror, makes not even the Decepticon high command quite as safe as they had been; not that it's been proven to be safe standing by Megatron's side given his track record of wanting his SiCs beaten or killed but...

The fact that CYLAS just so happened to have given and then promptly brutalised Dreadwing's hope that Skyquake may have been actually alive, just severely damaged (and, bond weakened from distance and prior injury, clinging to the last shreds of 'my spark didn't kill me with him' reasoning) and broke him out of the spell of blind loyalty to his once great leader.

CYLAS in this version has a little bit more longevity to his existence within the Decepticon forces, not actually a Decepticon soldier as the canon CYLAS pledged himself as but 'The Human Factor' the episode so calls itself akin to the way the American government and the human children are to the Autobots, but being able to physically go toe-to-toe with cybertronians. Megatron might be a little tired of dealing with independents after Airachnid's escapade (I do intend to make her more into a poacher/torturer type character than another Starscream so she might act out a little differently), but Silas isn't one for licking boots anytime soon and as CYLAS, Megatron is no different; you'd think he wouldn't have even done that in the first place given he's already an ex-military 'take-no-nonsense' bitch, but the Breakdown in him probably made him a lapdog...

Anyway that's a whole big post about Altered Loyalties CYLAS... or at least the in depth reasoning behind why he could still integrate himself into the story and why he'd probably have more opportunity to lasting- i prommy it's not bc i like torturing skyquake likers *wink*

I guess this is now a canon event or at least I'll try to make it canon ;)

[simcardiac-arrested]

im a bit catastrophic autism level about characters having missing memories that they cant reach but know are meant to be there, i have a dnd character in a really similar situation!! i just love the feelings of frustration and horror... which memories and thoughts can you even trust? if memories can be removed can they be added?? what do you really know??? its the best for real poor ns

I KNOWWWW I FUCKING LOVE THAT CONCEPT SO MUCH!!!!! just that feeling of something being out of your reach. something you Know but can’t Remember. i love how i put it: like walking into a mall in the middle of the weekend and seeing that it’s empty. because you know it should be full of people. you know what should be there. but there’s nothing. no matter how much you look, there’s nothing, there’s nobody. it’s frustrating and horrifying and and (explodes in autism)