#but that’s not what’s happening this time?? (okay for some people it is but not anywhere near all of them because there were glaring issues

[sageshouldknowbetter]

Some may be apprehensive that Severance won’t portray Mark’s interaction with Helena in the tent as the sexual assault it was. But not only will they — they already are.

Mark’s behavior toward Helly has completely changed. He doesn’t sit next to her at Irving’s funeral. He shuts down attempts at conversation with offhand, vague snarky comments and a defiantly blank facial expression. When Helly knocks on the door to the bathroom, his eyes dart around like an animal cornered. Where he once would have slowed down for her in the hallway so they could talk, he walks much faster ahead. He’s trying as hard as possible to avoid her. To ignore her. To run away.

Now contrast this with his treatment of “Helly” when she first walked out of the elevator in season two. He waited for her to arrive! He was so relieved she’d come back! And when they were walking down that hallway and he was explaining the situation with Ms. Casey, he stopped mid-stride, turned to her with a smile on his face, and said “Look, Helly—“

He never got to finish that sentence. But some say he was going to confess that though his outie had a wife, his affections lay with her. And I think they’re right.

So why is he acting so differently now? The answer is obvious: “Because they are smarter than us, okay? They know everything.”

After the assault, Mark likely feels like a complete idiot. He spent so much of season one deconstructing his beliefs and breaking free from Lumon’s propaganda. And the minute he believes he’s immune to their lies and no longer a corporate slave, he is taken advantage of and hoodwinked by the very figurehead of said company, masking as someone he loves.

A symbol of Lumon convinced him he was safe. Tricked him. Invaded him in the most intimate way possible, with him completely oblivious, “like an idiot.” Right when he thought everything might be okay.

So maybe Lumon’s right. Maybe there’s no point in fighting. Because if he was stupid enough to not realize his own friend was being possessed by her billionaire doppelgänger, then maybe Lumon is correct about innies being nothing more than pawns. Maybe they are people, and he really is… not. (That’s how Helena treated him, anyway.)

And if that’s the case, of course he wants to give up looking for Ms. Casey and lose himself in work! For a moment he thought he was a human being, deserving of autonomy over his own body and capable of something more than sitting behind a desk — but his assault sends that all crashing down. He is an extension of his outie, made for work and nothing more. Going beyond that gets dangerous. That’s what got Irving killed… and him in Helena’s tent. And Helly? He cannot trust Helly. As far as he knows, his only confirmed moment with Helly since the OTC was when he was holding her in his arms, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Why should it be Helly coming back to the severed floor? If Helena could trick him before, who says she can’t learn from her past mistakes and trick him again over and over? Mark refuses to be humiliated and hurt after last time, so he avoids her (and Dylan!) and puts up a barrier of cool, snarky indifference — just like how he deals with grief.

But we know that indifference is a mask. When Milchick walked out of the elevator after revealing he knew about him and Helena Eagan, Mark had no one to pretend for — and he went completely stiff, blankly wide-eyed in an expression extremely reminiscent of his usual innie self. Whatever the reasons for this, one thing’s for sure: Mark does deeply care about what happened in the tent. And at least for now, he will lose himself in Cold Harbor to cope with it.

Lumon certainly got their productive worker back. But good Lord… at what cost?

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 18 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You find out why you have been feeling so sick lately. Some things are good. Some things are bad. And other things are straight-up cruel.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy issues/abortion, kidney failure, poisoning, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The voices were so soft that you barely even heard them, but you knew they were there.

You were probably dreaming. But what were you dreaming about? What had you dreamed? Were you already fully awake – awake enough to forget what you had been dreaming about?

A sharp pain in your arm made your eyes flutter open and you glanced around in panic. It suddenly all came back again, quick and unyielding.

The blood. He had to be dead. But, God, why was he dead? And why had he followed you?

Your gaze flew around the room, helplessly trying to recognize where the hell you were, when it suddenly dawned on you. You weren’t home.

Maybe you were indeed still dreaming.

Or maybe it was a nightmare you were caught in.

You gasped loudly and tried to sit up, only to feel a pair of gentle, yet firm hands, push you back down.

“Stop, I- What-“

“Shh.” He kept you gently pressed against the bed and regarded you with a look so tender and concerned, it immediately increased your panic. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re in the hospital. You’re alright.”

You glanced around, only to then realize it. The white walls, the neon lights, the rustling and the people around you. One looked like a doctor, another one like a nurse, but she left quickly.

It slowly came back to you. The wardrobe. The dizziness. The god-awful amount of blood. Your first impulse was to ask him what had happened, but you kept quiet. Everything was just too much – and his expression was by far the worst about it. His brows were furrowed in concern and his eyes were soft and cautious, as if he expected you to pass out again any moment.

He hadn’t even managed to get properly changed. You still saw the faint traces of blood on his shirt, right under his jacket. And even his hands had that light, red glow of someone who had just butchered a lamb.

The faint cut right above his eyebrow was new. And it made your heart clench.

“What happened?” You whispered hoarsely. “How long was I-“

“The doctor was just about to explain.” He said as he gently squeezed one of your hands in his both. “I told him that you don’t speak Korean. He’ll explain it in English.”

Your eyelids fluttered in confusion. He was behaving so…odd.

Of course he had been gentle before, no question. But this was so entirely unlike him. He was so soft-spoken and careful. It was hardly the same man.

When the doctor cleared his throat, you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at him instead. You were filled with dread, far more so than ever. Something was wrong, you could tell. A part of you expected him to tell you that you were going to die soon. Who knew? Maybe you would. It wouldn’t have surprised you. That was just what your life was like. Predictable and disappointing.

“We ran a few blood tests, miss, as I just now mentioned to your husband.”

Husband. The word rang in your ears.

You nodded.

The doctor, a man in his middle-age with kind eyes and a certain softness in his voice, sighed softly and slowly sat down on the chair by your bed.

“I have bad news and good ones. I would like to start with the bad news.”

You felt him tense beside you and his hold on your hands tightened ever-so-slightly.

By the time you looked up to meet his gaze, you realized, he wasn’t looking at you. Instead he was staring at the doctor before you, his eyes fixed on the man and his body rigid on his own chair.

You nodded again.

Oh God, what now?

“The reason for your breakdown was a circulatory collapse. That in itself isn’t all too bad. Your husband informed me of the fight you witnessed.” The blood on him. Clever. “That level of stress, combined with your high blood pressure, were what caused it. I ran a few blood tests and that’s where it gets complicated. I’m sorry to inform you that one of your kidneys is in the process of failing.”

You felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had always known this would come someday. But you couldn’t help but ask.

“The slow one or the other one?” You asked quietly.

You felt him stiffen beside you and the pressure on your hand was almost painful by now. He stared at you with an incredulous look. “What do you mean the slow one?”

You found yourself staring at the doctor instead. Maybe you should have told him, you suddenly realized.

The doctor kept staring between the both of you, before he hesitantly settled his gaze on you again, after you just so openly ignored your husband, waiting for his answer.

“I think your wife is referring to her birth defect. She was born with a kidney that’s rather small and has a hard time keeping up the process of cleaning her blood, as while the other one is normal in size. But unfortunately, that’s not the one failing.”

You closed your eyes. “So, the good one.”

“That’s the thing. I noticed something about it. I found your blood levels concerning, so I ran a few more tests. There’s a lot of protein in your urine. Have you had a history of using the bathroom often?”

“Yes.” You said quietly. “But it was always like that.”

“Did it lessen over the years?”

That made you pause and you took a moment to actually think about it. Looking back, as a child, you had to use the bathroom at least every hour. But these last few years…

“Yes, I think so. Why?”

He nodded with a solemn expression on his face. “I assumed so. I have a bad idea about what might be going on. I’m sorry to say this, but neither of your kidneys was working properly. They were just barely keeping you alive at this point.”

“Wait.” His voice was so soft that you barely even heard it, but it was enough to make the doctor’s head snap up.

“Yes?”

“So, she was born with one kidney damaged. And the other one is failing right now.” His grip on your hand slackened and so did his expression. You slowly turned your head to look at him and the sight of him nearly made you go pale. He was pale. His eyes were and his hair a mess. You had never seen him look like this before. He looked so…so…afraid. “Did…Did something cause her kidney failing? Did someone cause-“ He stopped and you felt the way his hands were shaking.

And you suddenly realized what he was asking. What he was thinking.

Did I cause her kidney to fail? Is it me who almost killed her?

You quickly reached for his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, but all he could do was stare at the doctor with the same horrified look.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, clutching the papers in his hand and he sighed deeply.

And to your horror, he nodded. “I’m afraid it were indeed external circumstances that caused your wife’s kidney to give in. I’m afraid someone might have poisoned her.”

For a moment everything was quiet, except for the soft humming of the machines, the slow drip of the IV. But then something in his face changed. The fear turned to the same murderous look he held whenever he got so ungodly angry.

“Poisoned her?” He said slowly.

The doctor nodded again. “I’ve found her sodium chloride levels are concerningly high. And unless she hasn’t been eating spoonsful of salt every day for months or years of her life, someone might have slipped her a preparation.”

His expression changed yet again and now he looked at you with a mixture of fury and pleading; pleading to believe him that it hadn’t been him who tried to poison you. But you were already more than aware.

“I know who did it.” You said quietly. Both of them stared at you in shock.

“What?” Asked the doctor.

You nodded slowly. “My mother. She gave me medicine for my slow kidney since I turned fourteen. I never questioned it.”

The doctor’s expression turned sour at the mention of that. “If that truly is so, we have to inform authorities and-“

“My mother is dead.” You said without flinching.

“Oh, that’s…alright, then. However, it would make sense. It’s good you stopped taking the medication. Had you continued to take it, it might have caused a cardiac infarction. Your husband said you just recently turned twenty-five. That’s not normal. It was highly intentional. Your mother caused great harm on you, miss.”

You took a slow breath to try and keep yourself from crying, but it was useless. Tears clouded your vision and you hid your face behind your hands.

Despite the tension in his body, the anger coursing through his veins, his hands were gentle in your hair.

“It’s okay.” He whispered in a mixture of furious and tender. “She won’t ever harm you again. No one will.”

It took you a few minutes to finally calm down again, but when you did, he gently pulled your hands from your face and looked at you with the same concerned look.

“So, what does this mean now?” He asked the doctor. “What will become of her?”

The man looked down at the files on his lap and shook his head. “On the long term, she will need a kidney transplant.”

It was the worst thing he could have said. The worst. A quick death was what you always anticipated and hoped for. Him losing his patience and shooting you in a fit of anger didn’t sound half as bad as that did. You knew how these things ended. You’d get on a list and you’d never ever get a kidney in time. And if you did, your body would fight it and you’d end up dying anyway.

He seemed to have the same thoughts, because you felt him freeze. His grip on your hand stayed the same, but all the color drained from his face. “Transplant?”

The doctor nodded. “On the long term, yes. We already put you on the waiting list, miss. We’ll do our best, I promise you and I stand by my promise. You’ve been through so much and you’re so young. We’ll do our best for you. Until then…you’ll have to go with dialysis.”

You were crying silent tears, begging and praying on the inside.

God, why me and why that? Why couldn’t it have been me who fell on the trainlines instead?

“Dialysis.” Your so-called husband responded in a breathless whisper. “That…that’s not so bad, right? It’s not like chemotherapy.”

The doctor nodded. “It’s still a great effort for her body to take, but it’s not comparable to cancer. She’ll be weakened, yes, but she’ll be able to perform basic tasks and take care of herself. And we’ll be working to find a kidney for her as fast as possible. A kidney isn’t as hard to find as a heart would be. It’s not likely. You might even get lucky and have a donor in your circle.”

He released a slow breath and drew gentle circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“You said you had good news for us?” He asked quietly.

The doctor nodded slowly and set the papers aside. His expression calmed somewhat and he regarded you both with a long look, before his gaze settled on your face.

“You’re seven weeks pregnant.”

He might as well have punched you, because that was exactly how you felt.

You wanted to react, in any way really. But you had no idea how you felt. How you were supposed to feel. You only knew that you were terribly afraid.

And so you slowly looked over to the man hunched beside you, trying to gauge his own reaction. Was he happy about this? Was he angry? His face gave nothing away. He looked dumbstruck. And for the first since you knew him, he looked genuinely terrified.

“Pregnant.” He whispered.

His gaze slowly wandered to you and back to the doctor. “But her kidney-“

“It is not impossible to carry a child in her condition. There may be a few complications and the risk is slightly higher than it would be if she was completely healthy, but it isn’t impossible.”

“What does slightly higher mean? Higher chance to die? No, forget it.” He bit out. “We’re not doing this.”

“Forgive me, but-“

“No.” He said firmly. “I’m not going to let her die over this.”

The doctor cleared his throat and nodded. “I understand that. And what you’re going to do will be you and your wife’s own decision in the end. I’d just like to make the following clear: She can still take the dialysis, even while pregnant. We could perform a peritoneal dialysis. It would have to be done every day, but she could do it at home. It’s rather uncomplicated.”

He was still rigid beside you and just as he was about to snap at the doctor again, you spoke in a quiet voice, causing him to stop himself.

“Would it harm the baby?”

The doctor smiled a gentle, reassuring smile. “No.”

“And the baby wouldn’t have any disadvantages due to my lack of a functioning kidney?”

“There’s always the possibility that the baby might come early. We’d have to keep a keen eye on its development, of course. It could be that it gets born with a birth weight of under 2.500 gram. That’s not uncommon for cases like yours, but it by far wouldn’t be the first one.”

You felt your insides twist painfully. Everything was simply too much. You still hadn’t gotten over the fact that your own mother tried to murder you for some reason and now you were here. Pregnant. Talking about things like birth weight.

“Am I-“

“I told you, this isn’t up for discussion.” His firm voice suddenly interrupted you.

You bit your lip and looked up at the doctor. “Could I get a moment alone with my husband?”

He immediately got up and gathered the documents surrounding him. “Of course. Take as much time as you need.”

The moment the door shut behind him, he shot you a crazed look. “There’s no way in hell you’re actually considering this.”

You stayed silent. A part of you wanted to fight him on this, but you felt weak. Too weak to argue, too weak to even speak. Something had changed, something had changed so drastically that you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. The only thing you truly knew…

“I can’t kill it.”

He took a deep breath and sat down beside you again. “We’re not killing it. It doesn’t understand what’s going on. It is too tiny to feel pain.”

“But it’s our baby.” The words slipped out in a pained whisper before you could stop yourself and the effect your words had on him was immediately recognizable. His eyes softened the same instant.

“I know.” He said quietly and reached for your hand again. “And I’m dying to have a baby with you. Really, I am. But not if it means you might die trying to bear it.”

“But the doctor said-“

He gently cupped your face in his palms and made you look up at him. “You’re sick.” His voice sounded as firm as it was gentle. His eyes were practically pleading with you. “You’re sick and I can’t lose you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gently circled his wrist in your hand. You were probably being manipulative, you were biased anyway. Unlike your mother, you immediately loved your child. You didn’t understand it. Didn’t even fully realize that it was truly there, inside you, but you loved it. And you couldn’t kill it. Never.

You gently got hold of his hand and guided it down your chest, until it reached your abdomen and you pressed it down softly.

His eyes followed your movement and he seemed to hold his breath. He wanted it just as much as you did, if not more. You saw it in his eyes. The tenderness. The pain. The instant protectiveness. Everything you loved about him.

The man who cut your hair and hit you when you spoke out of line, he was gone. The man who took your name and your identity from you, the man who threatened you, the man who scared you – he was nowhere to be found.

He was still the same, dangerous man underneath it all. You knew that. There was no way you could ever forget it. After seeing him murder someone twice – and maybe a third time – you knew what he was.

But in that moment? In that moment, he was somebody else.

The husband type of guy.

Your guy.

Your man.

And you were his. Only his.

He released a slow breath and his gaze slowly wandered up from your stomach to your face.

“I can’t.” He said quietly.

When you shot him a confused frown, he sighed and leaned back, but he kept his gentle grip on you.

“I can’t lose you.”

You sighed softly and gently tightened your grip on his hand. “But I might die anyway.”

His eyes darkened at that. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare even think that.” He hissed.

“It’s true.” You said quietly. “How high is the chance that I get a kidney in time? How many people live in Korea?”

“Don’t think about that now.” The determination is his voice was almost reassuring. Almost. Like he knew something that you didn’t. “I’ll find a way.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “All you need to do is focus on yourself, alright? Nothing else. I’m going to take care of everything else.”

“Okay.” You said quietly, even though you were not even close to convinced. What would he take care of? What did that mean? You had a bad feeling about it. “But I’m not having an abortion.”

He exhaled slowly. “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

You smiled weakly. “And you hate that about me, don’t you?”

Surprisingly he returned the smile and gently touched your chin. “I love that about you.”

His gaze wandered back down to where his hand lay and he slowly shook his head. “Are you really sure about this? It won’t be easy.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

His brows furrowed in thought and he didn’t meet your gaze yet. “I’m going to be a terrible father.”

That sent a spark of pain through you, because you heard the sorrow in his voice. What a silly man he was. Didn’t he see it?

“No. You’re going to be a wonderful father.”

He scoffed and attempted to look away, but your hand shot out and you gently touched his cheek, guiding him to look back at you. He seemed surprised, but he still let you.

“You are going to be a wonderful father.” You said slowly and firmly. The firmness in your voice took you by surprise, but you didn’t back down. For some reason, you were more than convinced of your own words. “You’re going to be everything your own father wasn’t.”

Under the gentle touch of your hand, you felt him tense, but he didn’t look away and it wasn’t anger in his eyes. It was uncertainty. Fear, maybe. And a whole lot of disbelief.

“How would you know that?”

“I know how it feels to be loved by you.” You said quietly. It was true. He was a twisted freak, someone who had missed not many an opportunity to hurt you. But at the same time, he protected you. He cared about you and he went to extreme lengths for you. “Wouldn’t you die for me?” You didn’t understand your own question or why you asked it, but something made you. A higher power, something that took control over your mind and tongue.

His frown deepened and he tightened his grip on you. “What a dumb question.”

You nodded and gently caressed his cheek. “That’s why I’m sure.” You whispered. “I want this baby. I want our baby. Because I…I trust you to take care of me. Of us.”

He kept staring at you with the same thoughtful, pained frown, until he finally closed his eyes and gently buried his face against your midsection.

“You’re such a stubborn idiot.” He murmured.

You smiled and gently buried your fingers in his hair. “Such a harsh way to talk to the mother of your child.”

You heard his smile, even though you didn’t see it. “I have a few conditions though.”

He looked back at you with a stern glint. You raised a brow and waited for him to continue.

“You don’t do anything. All you’re going to do for the time being is lay in your bed, read your books and nothing more. You’ll leave everything to me and you’ll listen to me. Understood?”

For some reason, that made you smirk. “Or else what?”

His eyes darkened. “Understood?”

Your smile softened and you nodded. “Understood.”

He sighed deeply and regarded you with a careful look. He still didn’t seem all too convinced.

“Alright.” He murmured.

“One more thing.” Your eyes shot open and you looked at him, the softness and warmth gone from your tone. “What happened today?”

He tensed again and averted his gaze. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What? But that guy who followed us-“

“Shh.” He shot you a glare. “Stop it. No one followed us.”

You frowned incredulously. “I’m not letting you shut me out like this. Where did the blood come from? What did he want?” You said lowly, looking over his shoulder to make sure there was no one listening in on your conversation.

“This is neither the time nor the place.”

“You said something about my mother.” You suddenly remembered. “Before I passed out. Tell me the truth. I’m not joking. What about my mother?”

He clenched his jaw. He was losing his patience, but so were you. “I didn’t-“

Now it was you who shot him a glare. “Tell me.”

“Listen.” He said slowly as he leaned back and shot you another stern look. “I can’t have you stressed out right now. Did you forget what happened last time?” He tugged gently on the IV as if to remind you.

But you didn’t let him and you caught his hand in your own. “Tell me. Right now. Why did he follow us? Did he-“ Your eyes widened and your grip on him loosened. “Oh God.” You whispered. “Oh God, she sent him.”

He immediately caught you by the shoulders as you tried to sit up. “Calm down, okay? Stop this. It’s not that dramatic.”

“She sent him.” Your voice grew shaky in panic. The same woman who had systematically tried to poison you. The same woman who marked you. Who isolated you. The woman who was supposed to love you and give her life for you. “Did you kill him?”

“No.” He said quietly.

“No?”

He shook his head. “He’s in the wardrobe.”

You felt yourself go pale. “What? In the-“

“Don’t. Panic.” He said firmly. “I’m not letting him leave like that. I have plans for him. I’m going to find out what he knows and how he found it out. And I’m not letting him get back to her. I have his phone and everything else.”

The dizziness came back the same instant and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey, hey.” He murmured and gently touched your cheek. “It’s alright. Don’t worry. You’ll never see her again. I promise you. Over my dead body. And you don’t have to see him either. All of that is nothing but a matter I’m going to take care of.”

You nodded weakly, but inside you felt nauseous. How on earth did she find out?

“And the blood?” You whispered.

He scoffed. “The bastard tried to inject me something. And he even had a taser. What kind of man would use a taser?”

You took a shaky breath. “But he didn’t?”

He shook his head. “You think I’d let him?” He smiled bitterly. “When I looked outside, I saw his gun and I knew something was off. I immediately knew he wanted something from you. Why else would he have followed us? I also have no idea how he found the right apartment by the first try. There are many things I don’t know yet. But I’m going to find out. But you.” He shot you a stern look. “You are going to stay in bed and do nothing but take care of the little one right here.” He gently prodded your bellybutton with his index finger and it almost made you smile.

If it wasn’t for your mother, you would have smiled.

“I can’t go back to her.” You whispered. “I’ll die before I do.”

He inhaled slowly and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “No one’s taking you away from me. And anyone who tries, will see.”

After a while, the doctor came back. He explained a few more things and after running a bunch of tests, he announced you wouldn’t have to go through dialysis yet. He’d have to check your kidney progress twice every week and there would be no way to avoid it, by the time your slow kidney decided to give up entirely.

But until then, you’d check your blood pressure three times every day and unless it got worse – you were free to act normal. Of course everything was a bit complicated so he prohibited you from taking any demanding tasks. But so far, and unless you weren’t taking the dialysis, your pregnancy wasn’t high-risk. He said that he would prefer it, if you took things easy – “Oh, she will, don’t worry. I’m not letting her leave the bed.” – but he gave you green light for light tasks and intimacy. Before you left, he said something to the doctor in Korean. They both glanced at you quickly before they slowly left the room, leaving you there in confusion and suspicion.

The drive home was rather quiet. Both of you were lost in your thoughts and your fears, but he kept a possessive grip on your thigh the whole way.

“You can’t die, you know.” He suddenly said. “If you did, I’d follow you and kick your ass.”

You smiled softly and looked up at him, but his gaze was trained on the street and there was not a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I won’t.” You said quietly. “Who else would show you how to change a diaper?”

Now, that made him smirk. “As if you know that.”

You laughed quietly. “We’ll learn it together.”

He took a turn and parked in the car park. When he was done, he slowly turned to face you.

“Are you really sure you want to go through with this?”

“I am.” You said gently.

He took a breath and nodded. “Alright.” Just as he was about to open the door, you held him back.

“What did you ask the doctor?”

His brows shot up in surprise. “What?”

“You know what I mean. Before we left, you spoke in Korean. What was that about?”

He clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. He got worse and worse when it came to lying to you.

“Come on, let’s get inside. I have to take care of a few things.”

___________________________________________

Tag list 1:

@mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q

Author's note: Surprise, surprise. Hehe. Also, guys, I have a feeling I'm stuck between half the readers wanting more angst and drama and the other half wishing for more fluff. Might have to throw some flashbacks in?

Love you!

[eintausendschoen]

POV: It is Valentines Day. You followed an invitation to a bar on Mount Helicon, for an event called "The Blue Hearts Club". A mysterious invite extended by a total stranger... with the promise of a relaxing night out. Some well deserved Me-Time.

At the door, the owner of the place greets you like she knows you. She says her name is Kalliope, one of the Muses, but you do not know her.

When she points you at a crowded table at the back of the room you follow.

There, of course, you realize what the invite meant by...

... "Me-Time. Uh-huh.... riiiiight..."

The Muse winks at you as she pases, distributing another round of drinks. "Welcome to Valentine's!", she laughs, and from across the table laughter joins: "Yeah, with yourself!!"

For @dxwart — sorry to spring this on you but ... ah... that WAISTCOAT just had to be shown around. 💜 (link to the artwork)

🤩Shoutouts to all the beautiful beautiful people who lend me their designs to play with to make this date happen. You are all AMAZING artists and THANK YOU for all the good vibes here and making Poseidonverse happen!!🤩

From left to right, top to bottom and then right to left again (in terms of order 🤌) because life in the sea is a circle: In purple and gold, Poseidon by @rin-sith - he is so much fun to draw it is riddiculous.

Next to him, the cheeky lil' king (who really isn't little at all, believe me, everyone else is just so enormous, there is a sizechart but it blew the scale) with the luscious hair and the prettiest scales: Poseidon in a more mortal-ish form by @ruthlessness69

Okay, you all know him and he's half across the table already. This king is having LA FIESTA tonight, because he got a list, and now he got more names. @messymoonmad - he did that all on his own, I swear by Styx. (I love him so much.)

Yeah, canon Poseidon. He was there first, and now he's having a hard time holding onto his drink. 😘

Seacreature at the back is the lower half of @tagzpite glorious Poseidon. He might have just lost a bet, but he is a good sport. Also, checking out that blue-haired devil across the table already. (I just borrowed him last minute, he got dragged along - hope it's alright. He'll be returned intact.) Next three... most chaotic throuple (if you can call it that) in the history of saltwater. Poseidon of @pink-noah tried to snatch the hand of @kamuch-kommandos hot dark menace. Got snatched in turn and poor him, Tall Dark and Handsome got a death grip. All just because Poseidon by @bigidiotenergytm went to win a dare and smooch the Big Gun at risk of ear-injury.

Guess @melodyartists Poseidon owe's him a drink now. (He squeezed in last minute when I stumbled upon your post where he introduced himself to the popular girls, and of course I had to bring him into this mess. Hope it's alright? :)) ) Poseidon by @anniflamma, but her awesome new design. He wanted a word with @neal-illustrator's (neals not active here afaik but tagging anyway), so they made an appearance. Mostly because...

...you know them, you love them, you windbaarrrghl. Is it Cloudysseus shlepping Cloudseidon in to steal grapes together? Is it Zeus spying on his brother's Valentines date? Nobody knows. @kdpartworks thank you so much for lending them - I'll return them safe and sound when Poseidon gets back home.

To his left... @wukyma - he did the vase-face again. Why is he so cute when he does that? I'm such a big fan this wet grumpy cat, especially with Polites. (And how do you draw his curls??? That was so hard!) Of course he'd sit next to Gorgeous by @arraunean and trade war stories. No armour for the bar, but these two are classic guys and this is Helicon, so the comfy draperies to go with the wine.

And last - your host's 'not-quite-boss': he's mine, :))

Happy Valentine's everyone <3

[ariaste]

Okay, a couple things.

"Your art output WILL slow dramatically" -- yes, this COULD be true! It is entirely possible this could happen, and if it does happen, I agree that you should not blame yourself for it. The older you get, the more there tends to be Other Shit that needs your energy. If you have less energy for art, that's entirely understandable. Don't blame yourself for the fact that we live in a capitalist hellscape that really wants to sap away creativity. That's not on you.

Here is another thing that could be true: There might also come a point where you stop being 18-22, but because you are older and have grown more experienced with your art, you are still able to produce the same amount even though you have less energy for art due to other commitments. It just takes less energy now to produce the same amount because you've practiced. (Be careful not to scale up too fast! Check in with yourself! Don't get burnout!)

Here is another thing that could be true: You get better and more practiced at managing your energy. You get better at your art. Maybe some of the huge stressors of being 18-22 are removed, like moving out of a shitty living situation, graduating college, etc. Therefore, over time your output might actually go UP rather than down. Perhaps all your hard work pays off and you realize one day that you're making (or almost making) a living from your art. All/most of your "work" energy can be allocated to that now, instead of having to cram it into little crevices wherever you could scrape them out. (This one is what happened to me)

A secret fourth thing. Ok, not actually secret: Neither I nor the OP know what your art journey is going to be like. Be cautious of people making definitive statements about what the future will hold for YOU, because they are probably actually just talking about THEMSELVES and their own journey. It's just phrased in a way that camouflages that (people are not always good at recognizing the fact that their experience is not the Guaranteed Universal).

TLDR: Don't go borrowing trouble. Your journey is yours. Do not shame yourself for the fact that you haven't met your goal yet. That's the key word: YET. There is always more time.

There will come a point where you will stop being 18-22 and your art output will slow dramatically, either from life circumstances, work, or schooling, and you will feel the urge to blame yourself for it. Don't!

[magical-reid]

The Bucky Barnes Cake Conspiracy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (implied) Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: When Wanda convinces you and Natasha to do the “Hear Me Out” cake trend, you think it’s just harmless fun. That is, until every single one of your picks is a different version of Bucky Barnes, the entire Tower gets involved, and Bucky himself finds out in the most humiliating way possible—via Wanda’s viral video.

It started as a joke.

A harmless, ridiculous joke.

And then it spiraled into something much, much worse.

“I’m just saying,” Wanda said, shoving her phone in your face as the three of you wandered through the grocery store, “we should do it.”

Natasha glanced at the screen. “Oh, the ‘Hear Me Out’ cake trend? That’s dumb.”

“Exactly!” Wanda grinned. “Which makes it perfect for us.”

You furrowed your brows, watching the TikTok she’d pulled up. The trend was simple: buy a plain cake, decorate it with pictures of celebrities or characters you found attractive, and then justify your crush by sticking ‘Hear Me Out’ in the middle.

It was stupid. But also hilarious.

“I’m in,” you said.

Natasha groaned. “Fine. But I’m not helping if this turns into another Tower-wide disaster.”

Wanda hummed, already making a beeline for the bakery aisle. “Oh, it definitely will.”

Back at the Tower, you sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter as Wanda set up her phone. The cake—a plain white-frosted one you’d grabbed from the store—sat in the center of the table, looking all innocent. It had no idea it was about to be used for nonsense.

“Okay,” Wanda said, grinning. “Time to put down our picks.”

Natasha went first. She taped a photo of Keanu Reeves onto a skewer and stuck it into the cake. Classic. No one would question it.

Then Wanda went. Pedro Pascal. Another solid choice.

And then you—

“Y/N,” Natasha deadpanned. “Are you serious?”

You hesitated, mid-skewer placement. “…What?”

Wanda started cackling.

Because instead of picking three different people like a normal person, you had, without realizing it, picked three different versions of Bucky Barnes.

One was a picture of him in his tactical gear, scowling like he was about to murder someone (hot). Another was of him in a hoodie and jeans, looking all soft and domestic (also hot). And the third? The one that really sealed your fate?

It was a close-up of his metal arm.

You winced. “Okay. I see how this looks—”

“This looks like a confession,” Wanda said gleefully, already zooming in on your picks.

“Oh my God,” Natasha muttered, running a hand down her face.

“I panicked!” you hissed. “I wasn’t thinking—I just grabbed the first ones that looked good!”

Wanda was shaking with laughter. “Oh, babe. This isn’t panic. This is obsession.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you both.”

The video went up on Wanda’s account that night.

By the next morning, it had one million views.

And the Tower was in absolute chaos.

Clint greeted you at breakfast with a slow, knowing grin. “So,” he said, spreading cream cheese onto his bagel, “should we start calling you Mrs. Barnes, or—?”

You threw a banana at his head.

Sam nearly fell off the couch laughing when he saw the video. “You put the metal arm?” he wheezed. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

Steve, who had clearly been dragged into this nonsense against his will, just gave you a long, unimpressed look over his coffee. “You could’ve just told him, you know.”

Tony, of course, had the most Tony reaction possible. “This is the most effort I’ve ever seen someone put into a crush. If I had known Bucky was your type, I would’ve set up an HR department just to make this more scandalous.”

You wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

But the worst part?

Bucky.

Because by some miracle, he hadn’t seen the video yet.

Which meant you were living on borrowed time.

It happened later that night.

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to read a book but mostly trying to avoid eye contact with the entire human population, when Bucky strolled into the common room.

“Hey, doll.”

Your stomach flipped. “Hey.”

He sat next to you, arms stretched out over the back of the couch, his face unreadable. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought—maybe he doesn’t know.

And then—

“So,” he said, far too casually. “You like my arm that much, huh?”

Your entire body locked up.

Your soul left your body.

Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“I—what—who—?”

Bucky chuckled. “I saw the video.”

You shut your eyes. “Kill me.”

He hummed, like he was thinking about it. “Nah. ‘Cause then who’s gonna take me on that date you clearly want?”

You choked. “What—”

Bucky turned to face you fully, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

Your entire brain short-circuited. “I—That’s—You—”

Bucky leaned in, voice low. “Next time, maybe write my number on the cake instead.”

You exhaled sharply, heart hammering. “Are you—Are you flirting with me?”

His grin widened. “You tell me.”

You stared at him. Then at the door. Then back at him.

Finally, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fine. But if we go on a date, I’m making Wanda pay for it.”

Bucky laughed, eyes warm. “Deal.”

[hrrtshape]

EMMA MY LOVE !!! Since u plan to shift tonight to meet up ur S/O will u use Ur method ?! (about "i forget i already shift") and if yes could u tell us how ur gonna use it (like as an asleep or awake method )

Basically i'm asking for the ROUTINE of the QUEEN!

Pls excuse me if i'm annoying or if that question already been asked ! But i'd like a post like this before u go 🙏🙂‍↕️!!!!

my shifting routine.

so. you wanna know my pre-shift routine !!!! you wanna get a peek behind the proverbial curtain, see the machinations, the gears turning, the genius at work !!!!!! well, okay, pull up a chair and let me walk you through it, but let’s be clear!!!!! my routine can definitely be different from yours. not all the maps will lead to the same journey.

i don’t do awake methods, i dunno why, i just never really wanted to try them. no staring at the ceiling waiting for some divine hand to yank me into another reality. no breathwork, no tensing my body like i’m about to drop into some cia black site. no. i’m a sleeper. i drift. i get comfortable, and i let the universe do the heavy lifting. we (i) call this the anti-method (both usable for inducing the void&&shifting). the absence of method. the sheer, unadulterated rejection of trying, because trying is for people who think this is difficult, and i do not have that affliction. it’s like shifting for people who are too cool to try (aka me, aka you now).

so here’s what happens !!!! i wrap myself in blankets. i mean it, total sensory deprivation chamber vibes, the womb reborn. i cocoon, i hibernate. i burrito. if there’s music, it’s there to lull me, not lead me. my first long shift was silent. the subsequent ones.....sometimes clairo, sometimes piano, sometimes the sound of my own thoughts unraveling like a cassette tape i’ve played one too many times. kewl !!!

and then, the secret sauce....... i affirm. not in the way you think. not in the “i am already in my dr” kind of affirmation. no, we (i) don’t think here. we (once again...i) assume. i lay there, nestled in my own self-importance, and i think, “what if i shifted? and i just forgot?”

and that’s it. that’s the whole trick. the mind buckles under its own certainty, folds inward, short-circuits on the possibility, and next thing i know? i’m there. i’ve been there. maybe i was always there. maybe you were too, and you just haven’t looked up from your own narrative long enough to notice.

so, you wanted a routine......here it is. now go forth. pop off. get shifted. go use it, or don’t. either way, i’ve already shifted. maybe you have too........maybe you just forgot.

[randomasfuk]

Okay, something that’s been pissing me off recently is the whole “Dick Grayson is a whore” thing. He absolutely is not. He has explicitly said so in the past (see the panels at the bottom of the post), and what pisses me off even more is people dismissing criticism of this as just “fanon mischaracterization.”

Him being portrayed as a whore is becoming canon now. I could be wrong on the timing, but it definitely seems more prevalent since he was canonized as Romani. And, conveniently, that just so happens to align with a massive Romani stereotype. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but it’s annoying as hell, whether it’s fanon or canon.

It’s the same way people reduce Damian to some rabid, violent creature that bites—another stereotype, this time about Arab people. It’s been pissing me off lately.

Tim and Bruce are the family whores, not Dick. In canon, he’s attractive and charismatic, but that doesn’t mean he’s a slut.

Can we please, for the love of whatever the hell you believe in, stop copy-pasting racial stereotypes onto characters? I don’t care if it’s unintentional. Stop it.

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

I was going to put this in the tags but it's long enough and a direct response that I think I should just add it here.

Yes, to all of this, unironically and unhesitatingly.

For what it's worth for everything I'm about to say, I am a licensed social worker and am currently employed as a mental health clinician. But I have not done any research on this personally and don't have sources at the moment to back this theory up (im going to look into that today actually. I'm curious to see what I find.) This is just all speculation from a professional, so take that for what it's worth. I'll try to add some sources later when I'm not on mobile.

See I agree with what was stated up above about anxiety and depression. I also think its possible it could apply to diagnoses considered less "general," like adhd.

Example. I was recently diagnosed with adhd. The only reason I bothered to pursue the diagnosis was because it was impacting my ability to function throughout my day, and I wanted to try medication. (Personally, I think those are the only times you really should pursue a professional diagnosis, but that's a separate conversation...)

The most notable complaints I had about what I was experiencing were:

- struggling to focus on one task instead of bouncing around between everything on my to do list

- getting overwhelmed and paralyzed from the amount of thoughts and tasks that were in front of me

- struggling to stay on a task that requires my full focus (like reading) because I simply can't give that task my full attention

- conversely, going too long engaging in one task (usually a preferred relaxation task) and neglecting other parts of my life. This typically happens for me on weekends, when I'm trying to play video games instead of think about work.

There are other symptoms that I qualify with, like interrupting people (or struggling not to), being physically jittery and fidgety, being easily angered when certain things happen, etc.

For me, a lot of this ties back to - and was made most clear by - the amount of tasks I have to regularly engage in in my life, and my difficulty keeping up with it all and functioning effectively through it.

Now on one hand, the DSM V is written with a focus on symptoms that interfere with life functioning. And things that stop necessary tasks from being completed tend to fuck our lives up more than something that makes us a little too talkative or fidgety.

But also. And I will say this again and again and again.

A diagnosis is a tool and label. Not a law of the universe. Not a cause. It is a human attempt at categorization of known symptoms, with the intention of relating to effective treatments.

(And that^^^ is something you'll learn from any decent psych 101 class. Mine wasn't decent and I had to go a few classes beyond before we actually started framing it that way.)

With that in mind. Here's a question.

Is my adhd just innate within me, and something that would have been there, regardless of what my life looked like? Is it a specific way my brain deviates from the "norm," and something that, with the right technology and testing, could have been detected and diagnosed without my even noticing any symptoms? Something that exists in a vaccuum without touching my other diagnoses of anxiety and depression?

Or. Is it maybe just a quick and easy way of saying "this person cannot keep up with the stimuli in their life without becoming overwhelmed. And it is effecting their functioning to a notable degree"

That second option is a gross oversimplification, but I hope you take a second to sit with how much the first option sounds like eugenics. If the problem is innate within you, then if we just improve our technology enough to detect it in everyone who has it and separate them from the "norm," then we can weed out the problem, right? Okay, Elon.

How much of my adhd could be a culmination of the fact that I'm overwhelmed with stimuli 24/7 and have lost my ability to focus effectively because of it? How much of my clients' adhd could be a result of the same, possibly combined with the fact that many of them have experienced or are currently experiencing trauma? Which is known to impact ability to focus on tasks, as well as create a hyperactive body system?

This isn't to say adhd is a bogus diagnosis. The same way that the anxiety and depression we experience within our current world state is also not a bogus diagnosis. We're still experiencing it. We still fit the diagnostic criteria. And treatment still helps.

My point of all this is, yes to what's above. And also, maybe it would be good to reframe the ways we view diagnosis in general, to take it a step further, and to recognize the very clear and present causes of what a lot of people are experiencing nowadays. In my opinion, it goes beyond anxiety and depression.

(Also. For the people saying you'll go nuts if you aren't busy. Take a look at why that is. Is that a sustainable way of living? Are you comfortable just existing as yourself? Are you trying to distract yourself from something, or avoiding something uncomfortable? Have you possibly adapted well to the pressure of being constantly busy? Think about it from a different angle)

[gallusrostromegalus]

Do you have any plans for what happens with Urahara's shop once Aizen is dealt with? I mostly ask cus the other day I binged the AIEWAM tag, then had a dream about the Shinigami using it as a base of operations in Karakura. I don't know if that is likely, or plausible, but it was fun to picture random shinigami doing customer service.

No that's more or less what happens to it!

After Aizen is dealt with, Urahara is facing some pretty significant personal problems: his rejection by the 12th division, being pregnant with his first child (and Yoruichi's nervous breakdown of impending parenthood) and Nihofornia's National Tax Agency finally catching up to him. As a shinigami, Urahara is aware of the many ways to shimmy around death, but there is no certainty like Taxes.

It's Don Kanonji, the most reasonable and level-headed adult in the whole damn fic, who proposes the solution: between his careers of swimsuit model, UN Translator, exorcist and fashion designer, Don is also a Certified Accountant. After going over she shoebox full of miscellaneous receipts and assorted Papers That Might Be Important, Don negotiates a deal with the tax agency around Kisuke's dubious status as a citizen and even more dubious bookkeeping: kisuke will sell the business to someone with a real social security number and pay up a large percentage of the staggering amount of money he owes in exchange for being allowed to rent the building from the new owners and continue his path to legitimate citizenship and no further financial chicanery.

"Okay, but who's going to pony up the cash? I don't have that kind of money!" Kisuke wails, fully in the grip of second-trimester hormone swings.

"Urahara-san. Kisuke. Sandalhat. Buddy. Pal." Ichigo's classmate Keigo sighs, fondly patting the man on the shoulders as he sat down on the couch beside Urahara. "We're friends, right?"

"We're people who know each other's home addresses." Kisuke sniffles.

"Close enough!" Mizuiro waves, sitting down on Urahara's other side. "-and you're former second division, real cloak-and-dagger stuff. So you know that sometimes it's best to not ask so many questions, right?"

Kisuke frowned with growing suspicion. "I might have been..."

"Great! All you need to do is make Tessai clean out the garage, turn the paperwork over to me and Mizuiro, keep an ear on the line to soul society, and focus on getting this place ready for your little bundle of joy-" Keigo smiled, gesturing around the decidedly bachelor padded living room.

"-and don't worry about where this came from!" Mizuiro chirped happily, hefting a large briefcase onto the table with a loud thud that popped open the lid, revealing a frankly alarming amount of cash inside.

"I'm worrying." Kisuke grimaced.

"We very specifically requested the opposite of that." Keigo pouted.

"That's at least thirty grand in there." Don remarked with a casual glance at the carefully packed but decidedly used bills inside.

"There is Thirty-one thousand, two hundred seventy-eight point oh-six Troyen, which is exactly two and a half times this shop's discretionary income last year, and a very generous price for the business!" Mizuiro beamed.

"Why can't you guys use a normal currency like Kan?" Kisuke pouted, trying to do conversion rates in his head.

"Well for one thing, fiat currency is a hell of a lot better than anything based on the value of rice." Keigo nodded. "Though it is kinda stupid that we didn't update the name after we went off the gold standard during world war three."

"There was a third world war?" Kisuke yelped.

"A cold one, back in the eighties. You didn't notice were busy making sure Isshin and Masaki Kurosaki didn't implode." Tessai called from the kitchen.

"Oh." Urahra mumbled.

"Look, it's really quite simple- you'll go on basically as you have been with the candy shop-" Mizuiro smiled with the soothing demeanor of an unexpected adder. "-only I'll be your landlord and Keigo will be your manager!"

Urahra stared blankly at the boys, then looked up at Don Kanonji, who was reading over the contents of the file folder Mizuiro had handed him when the boys came in. "...That can't possibly be legal, right?"

"Hm?" Don hummed, looking up over his glasses. "Oh, yes. The government would really prefer a check but cash is perfectly legal tender to settle all debts with."

"But they're kids!" Kisuke gestured hysterically between them.

"Okay, Mizuiro might be babyfaced but he turned eighteen last spring and I'll be an adult by the time we turn in all this paperwork in April." Keigo groaned.

"And- and this is clearly Mob Money!" Urahara continued, waving at the briefcase of cash.

"Mister Urahara! I would NEVER-!" Mizuiro gasped with great offense. "I'll have you know all this money came from Perfectly Legitimate Enterprises!" He sniffed, arms crossed and lip pouting.

"That's the name of the Mobile Tech Support business Mizu and I have been running since freshman year!" Keigo beamed. "Makes a good packet, you wouldn't believe the kind of tips the old biddies will give a Nice Young Man in a Smart Uniform who scrapes malware off her online mahjong machine!"

Urahara stared at them blankly, gaze slowly tipping down to the briefcase full of money. "I should learn how to use living world computers."

"NO." Every single person in the building, including the shop kids and Ichigo, who had been passed out under the table after training, but was stirred to consciousness by an impending sense of danger before passing out again.

"Killjoys." Urahra muttered, sulking under his hat.

"Regardless, its a perfectly legal and honestly very generous offer for this heap, and as your financial advisor, I urge you to take it." Don Kanonji glared over his glasses at Urahara.

"So what, you boys get a cut of the candy money and rent? Cause that ain't much of a savvy deal on your end. This place runs at a debt."

"Oh no, you can keep the candy revenue and I'll only ask for enough rent to cover utilities." Mizuiro smiled. "What we want is a cut of your commission as a licensed Gotei-13 outlet contractor!"

"...But I'm not a contractor?" Urahara blinked.

"...Do you just. Not read things before you sign them?" Keigo glared.

"Yeah, you're not just in hock to the NTA, the Soul Revenue Service is after you too for running a fake Gotei-13 service center, and bailing on a century's worth of filings by faking your death." Mizuiro frowned at him with concern. "So e of those papers you signed when you resumed your identity and job as captain- however briefly were the result of Captain Kyoraku cutting you one HELL of a parole deal with the SRS, but the agreement was that Urahara Shoten would be the base of operations for ALL the shinigami operating in Karakura, under the direct supervision and control of the Gotei-13 and he sure wasn't stingy with the budget he gave you! Well. The budget he gave me and Keigo to spend since I'd be the property owner and Keigo would be the business owner."

"Aaaand since you also signed the soul society official secrets agreement, it's not like you can ask someone else to buy you out from the NTA, so not only are we your best offer, we're your ONLY offer!" Keigo grinned.

Urahra stared at them blankly. "You've set me up." He mumbled.

"You sent yourself up for this when you failed to do your due diligence when signing contracts." Don Kanonji corrected him, pulling some documents out of the folder and signing them, before pushing them across the table. "Please actually read these before you si- you've already signed them." Don Kanonji groaned as Urahara slapped the pen back down on the table with spite.

"Fine, fine- I guess I'm back to following orders instead of giving them. What do you want, Boss?" He glared at Keigo.

"Put your feet up and finish putting together that gift list for the baby shower." Keigo nodded. "We weren't kidding that your first priority is getting this place ready for baby... Does it have a name yet?"

"...No." Kisuke wilted despondently. "Yoruichi still isn't answering my texts!"

"Hm." Keigo nodded. "Okay, put your feet up, finish that baby shower list and think of a name for the little rugrat. Just leave the rest to us for now!"

"You guys are good kids." Kisuke smiled weakly.

"Would you be willing to make a sworn statement to that effect, so we can have it on file for any future HR disputes?" Mizuiro smiled.

"Absolutely goddamn not." Kisuke glared.

[fawnfemmes]

Sevika x chubby reader where the reader is a councilor. They make eyes during meetings where Sevika looks the reader up and down. Sevika flirts with reader right after until they have to leave. This keeps happening for a few meetings until reader shows up in a more showy outfit just to show off for Sevika. She resists ending the meeting early just to get to reader sooner. After, a different (male?) councilor gets to reader first, he attempts flirting with the reader and Sevika ofc pushes aside the guy and probably insults him for speaking to reader lmao and I was picturing this ending with Sevika and reader waiting until everyone leaves (or sevika telling everyone to get out) and having ✨intimacy✨ in the councilor room. But you can end it differently ofc. This is just a dabble tbh, just an idea that came to mind once I saw your post about it. Hope this sparks some inspiration!

୨so… what now?୧

councillor!sevika X f!councillor!reader

🏷️: lesbian sex, porn with a side of plot, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), semi-public sex, reader is chubby, pet names used, stone top sevika, no beta we die like men

🦌:tysm for this angel.. I was half asleep when i wrote this so it might not be very good. Idk. i hope it’s okay & I’m sorry it took so long to answer!! it’s short but that’s cause i scrapped it a few times. i left it how it was for posting cause i didn’t wanna force myself to write and then have it be awful 😔

when sevika became a councillor, she’d expected to spend all her time with selfish rich people who aren’t concerned for anything but their own causes. what she hadn’t expected was you.

sure, you were a filthy rich piltie, but you used that money for things other than yourself. you lived luxuriously but you spent the money you didn’t use to help people. and you were the only councillor, apart from her, to argue that zaun deserves equal attention to piltover.

immediately she was enamoured with you. it also helped that you were utterly breathtaking— soft and feminine, yet tantalisingly sexy. and after your first conversation, in which she almost went insane after you fawned over her prosthetic arm, she noticed you tended to float towards her a whole lot more.

you made eyes at her constantly, which she more than gladly returned, and most of your post-meeting conversations were simply the two of you flirting back and forth until somebody called you away for whatever the reason.

another thing she noticed was that your clothing changed. you’d always been feminine. but she noticed that since your first conversation you gradually wore.. less clothing? of course, you weren’t crossing the boundary of indecent exposure, but the slits in your dresses gradually crawled up your thighs day by day, and the necklines creeped lower. on occasion, sevika would notice you leaning forward in your seat diagonally from hers, just enough to give her a glimpse of your décolletage.

and naturally, it wasn’t only sevika that noticed this. there was another councillor who’d taken a liking to you. and being the lovely person you were, you’d laughed politely at his attempts to flirt with you and had returned the same energy— only your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes like it did with sevika, your voice never had the same airy tone. it did stroke her ego a little, but that didn’t mean the situation didn’t piss her off.

after a particularly stressful meeting, sevika was already on edge. when she saw you and aforementioned councillor talking. except he had you much closer this time, and you didn’t seem particularly thrilled. so, she intervened.

after a swift argument and sevika having to resist the urge to punch things, the two of you had been left alone.

it hadn’t been difficult, getting her this riled up. the second that councillor had left she’d burst into this spiel about how you make her feel, how unbearable she finds it having to look at you in those damn clothes and not be able to fuck the living daylights out of you all the time. and all you could do was laugh at her, pulling her in to kiss her gently, pulling her hand to your waist.

which is how you found yourself in this situation. sevika on her knees in front of you, her beautifully carved nose bumping against your clit while she murmurs sweet words into your cunt. her hands gripping at the fat of your thighs, steel eyes meeting yours as your eyelids flutter.

“sevika- at least give me a break- fuck!,” you grip at her hair gently, hips moving against her face as she looks up at you, steel eyes glittering as she looks at your plum red face. she grins cockily at you before continuing, somehow even faster.

it’s impressive to you, how long she’s been doing this. you think it might be crossing the half hour mark, and you’ve already cum twice. you had offered to return the favour but she declined plainly, and you weren’t about to complain.

she stays buried between the fat of your thighs for long enough that you think the bones in your legs are melting, and when she finally comes up for air she seems immensely proud of herself.

after promptly cleaning you up and escorting you back to your place, sevika pauses outside your door and rests a hand on the small of your back. she looks so reluctant to leave that you just laugh, pulling her into your house and immediately wrapping your arms around her neck. she laughs, voice shaky when she speaks.

“so, uhm… what now?”

long story short, you end the night sweaty and bare in your bed, talking about your lives and pasts after the realisation that you don’t really know each other— well, didn’t. you do now, and you think you might love sevika now you do.

[ktownshizzle]

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 1

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: None

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 1k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 15, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: I am quite nervous about this series if imma be really honest bec this the first time I am doing a BTS-SVT crossover fic, but basically Yoongi and Wonwoo are ruining my life so I need to cope, please be kind I literally do not know what I’m doing. All I know is I have written out a good chunk of this series and I promise it’ll be fun. :) Thanks Jae @angellekookie for being my first test subject. I hope you all enjoy!~

TAGLIST IS OPEN | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. That’s what you told yourself when you signed the lease, all bright-eyed optimism and naive faith in your ability to coexist peacefully with two quiet, low-maintenance roommates.

You were wrong.

Because Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo weren’t just introverts. They were weaponized introverts.

The kind that moved through life with an air of effortless detachment, as if emotions were things that happened to other people, not them. The kind that could sit in the same room in absolute silence for hours without any need to acknowledge each other’s existence. The kind that, despite their best efforts, were also painfully awkward. 

But that’s okay. In fact that’s part of their charm.

You think they’re both cool, if slightly nerdy. Yoongi was a music producer and Wonwoo was a game developer. They both have a penchant for photography, their cameras holding space in a special shelf in your living room. Yoongi liked cooking, Wonwoo liked reading. Both of them are passable singers, but you’ve heard them rap (under their breaths) to Epik High whenever you played their old songs, and both got flow, not gonna lie.

While Yoongi had the energy of a cat who tolerated your presence at best, Wonwoo had the aura of a ghost who wasn’t sure if he was haunting you or just existing in the same space by accident.

And despite your awkward first interactions, Yoongi eventually warmed up to you in the way one might warm up to a stray cat that kept showing up at their doorstep—begrudgingly, but with an unspoken fondness. Wonwoo, on the other hand, started making these tiny, barely noticeable gestures of consideration, like leaving the light on if you were out late or subtly pushing your favorite snacks to the front of the pantry because you were too short to reach them from the back.

And you, completely oblivious to the trouble brewing beneath the surface, assumed that was that. Roomies being roomies. 

What you didn’t realize was that somewhere between stolen bites of Yoongi’s late-night ramen while listening to his records and the post-work gaming sessions you have with Wonwoo while sharing popcorn, both boys had started to notice you in a way that was definitely not roommate-friendly and vice versa.

Roll the tape…

(01)

You weren’t even thinking when you snuck into the kitchen that night, mind set on one thing and one thing only: honey butter chips.

It wasn’t your fault that you finished your bag (Calbee puts some kind of crack in there, you swear), but you know someone else might still have a bag or two on the top shelf, if only you could rea—

“Tryna steal hyung’s stash again?”

You jumped, turning to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his glasses slightly askew and his hair falling over his eyes. The loose shirt he wore hung off his shoulders just right, and it suddenly struck you how broad those shoulders actually were.

“Fuck,” you whispered, heart still racing. “You scared me.”

As he walked over, you couldn’t help but notice how quietly he moved, almost like he was gliding. And when he reached past you to grab the snacks with ease, you caught the faint scent of his shampoo, something clean and subtle that made you a little dizzy.

“How’d you know these were what I wanted?” you asked softly.

Wonwoo’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer. “You always reach for them first at the store,” he said, like it was obvious.

And maybe it was. 

He casually opened the bag with one clean twist, the foil crinkling in the quiet kitchen before handing it to you. Without a word, he reached in and popped a chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Then he smiled—small, lopsided, and so effortlessly boyish that it caught you off guard. You’d never realized how cute his smile was until now.

As he walked away, you stood there, clutching the bag of snacks to your chest as Wonwoo headed back to his room, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a weird fluttering in your stomach.

(02)

One night, sleep evaded you completely. Maybe it was the weight of the day, or maybe it was the sudden pang of missing your family that you couldn’t shake.

The faint sound of music led you to Yoongi’s room. You hovered at his door, unsure, until—

“Come in,” his low voice called out.

The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of his monitor. Yoongi sat at his desk, sleeves pushed up, fingers tapping rhythmically against his keyboard. You tried not to stare, but there was something unfairly attractive about how effortlessly cool he looked, even half-asleep.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Mmhm,” you admitted with a hum. “Just… missing home, I guess.”

Yoongi’s expression softened just slightly, enough for you to notice. “Mm. That shit sneaks up on you,” he muttered.

“Can I stay?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

Somehow, it felt weird taking up space in his bed. So you sat on the floor instead, hugging your knees.

After a beat he joined you on the rug and he played a track for you. The music was soft, layered, and it made something inside you ache in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “Like a happy memory…”

Yoongi chuckled softly. “Yah, don’t go emo on me now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension in your chest eased a little.

At some point, your head found its way to his shoulder, your exhaustion catching up with you. Yoongi froze for half a second before leaning his head gently against yours.

Neither of you said anything when you stirred a few hours after.

Neither of you needed to.

Roommate Rule #1: Don’t Fall for Your Roommate(s). (Too Late)

Things like that kept happening. Quiet moments. Moments that weren’t meant to mean anything but lingered far longer than they should have. Little details you started noticing about them, that maybe you shouldn’t have.

The way Yoongi’s sleeves were always rolled up, revealing strong forearms that you had no business looking at for that long. The way Wonwoo’s glasses would slide down his nose when he was focused, and how you found yourself wanting to reach over and push them back up for him.

You pushed those thoughts aside. Because they’re your roommates.

But something had already shifted. You just hadn’t realized how much.

Which led to the current situation:

Yoongi, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you laugh at something Wonwoo just said. 

Wonwoo, sipping his coffee with a smug little tilt of his lips, aware that his hyung was watching and he’s thriving off it.

And you, completely unaware that you were the unintentional catalyst for an impending nerd war aka the royal roomie rumble aka the most awkward month of your life.

Are you even ready?

;)

A/N: How are we feeling????? I'm really excited about this series. (I know I have a million WIPS but pleaseee... this one has been HAUNTING my dreams)

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Divider by: @cafekitsune (thank you!)

[queervegancryptid]

They fought back in part because the cops were literally checking their genitals so they could arrest the trans and gender non-conforming people there.

Stonewall wouldn't have been fucking necessary if not for cops pulling that shit and the powers that be supporting them so there wouldn't be any consequences. Cis queer people were also under threat, obviously, because you don't have to be trans to suffer from cissexism. But to remove references to trans people from this monument in particular is to literally erase trans people from a key moment in our history.

It's all part of the plan. One of the insidious things about erasing us in this way is that knowing our history can be a source of pride as well as strength, and it can help us resist the demoralizing nature of all of what's happening.

That's part of why they're doing it. They don't want us to know our history, and they also don't want cis people to know it, either, because then they can spread the false narrative that trans people were invented by attention-seeking people on Tumblr circa 2014. It goes hand in fucking glove with censorship and calling anything remotely queer "obscenity." If they can paint us as an anomaly that's definitionally obscene and therefore Morally Bad, it's that much easier to justify attacks on us.

Despite every way the Democrats have disappointed me over the years, when Harris gave a speech in November that called people at Stonewall "patriots," I teared up. Not that I put much stock (or any, really) in patriotism. But as a child, I never let myself imagine a future where a politician running for a major office, let alone for president, would say anything like that about people like me. This country is where I was born, but I never felt a sense of belonging in that way, like I had a welcoming home here. Maybe I never will.

Part of the reason queer bars are a thing at all is that queer people, especially trans people, were pushed underground and had nowhere else to fucking go aside from the odd bar that might be friendly to us. These places did become like home for a lot of people, and understanding it in context matters. It wasn't like they just threw bricks because "lol fuck cops." They fought back after enduring a lot, and they fought back out of genuine necessity, and I used to think, "They threw bricks so I wouldn't have to."

Lately, though, I'm coming to the realization that one day I might have to throw a brick, myself. I just hope I have my queer family around me, throwing bricks alongside me, if and when the time comes. We can resist, and we must do it together, and that's yet another reason they don't want you to know history. Collective action is necessary and can work. And it terrifies the folks in power.

Sigh. I'm sorry to go off. But this shit has me feeling some kind of way, and I just need people to understand the importance of queer history. If we don't protect it ourselves, it'll be destroyed.

Please read and share history. It matters. It really, really matters.

Okay. I'm gonna go cry.

Not to be dramatic but this is a massive fucking deal and I legitimately hope every single politician dies.

[leashybebes]

blue and gold outtake

for @kissmyashes who wanted to know what buck and gina talked about on their trip to the taco truck in chapter 13.

"So," Gina says, keeping her eyes on the road. "You and Tommy, huh."

Buck, feeling sun-baked, salt drying on his skin from splashing about in the water with her, looks over.

"Oh," he says. "Is this the shovel talk?"

She shoots a narrow eyed glance at him. "Does it need to be?"

"I-I don't think so? I just figured if it happened, it'd be Sal."

Gina laughs and swats his shoulder. "Nah, he's a pussycat."

Buck gives her a sceptical look and she shrugs one shoulder.

"Mangy, one-eyed dumpster cat with a crooked tail," she amends. "But y'know. That's my guy."

They hit traffic and she huffs a sigh.

"Fuckin' LA. But it gives us time to talk."

"So it is the shovel talk?"

"Nah. Look, I love Tommy. Love the guy. But there's a reason he gets on so well with Sal."

"What's that?"

"He's an idiot," Gina says, flat but somehow still affectionate. "He told us some about what happened before. When he walked out on you."

"Oh," Buck says. "It's - yeah, that sucked. But we're good."

"Yeah, he told us that, too. I'm just saying. You ever think it looks like he's getting ready to run again, you call us, okay? We're world experts in not letting Tommy walk away from people who love him. I'll send Sal over to beat some sense into him if I have to."

"Oh," Buck says again, more touched than he expected. "Thank you."

She shrugs and pulls into a parking spot across from a taco truck with a decent queue of people outside.

"The trick with him is you just gotta get your claws in deep and not let him wriggle."

"Got it," Buck says with a grin. "Tacos are on me. Call it a trade for the insider info."

"Hey, I'm not arguing that," Gina says, tucking her arm through his and pulling him towards the truck. She barely reaches his shoulder, but she's a powerhouse of a woman and Buck is fiercely glad that Tommy has her in his corner.

[zeropro]

So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???

Love your art btw :D

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:

(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)

Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.

thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.

thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker. 

starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.

starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there. 

starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule 

megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me

skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story

starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)

starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho

starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD 

soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one. 

shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers

what other ship is there even? oh yeah

starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.

oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities

on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho! 

dont talk to me about airachnid

do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.

lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!

and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships! 

no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning. 

happy valentrine’s day!

[l4xiv4]

why are some people still saying things like "injecting an unknown substance into people out of nowhere is still questionable tho ☝️🤓" it's 2025 guys let's be fr already

those patients had "fallen down", which is a slow and natural DYING process. they were completely unconscious and there was supposed to be NO way for them to come back to life. almost literally dead. the families were like "do what you must, just give us their dust when you're done" the whole time until alphys called them. what could happen to the bodies did NOT matter. alphys's only big mistake was obviously hiding and refusing to face the consequences because she hated herself. this whole experiment thing couldn't have been done in a more "morally okay" way as y'all think. failures and accidents will always exist in science, that's just how it works 🫶 let it go 🫶

Imagine you’re a scientist trying to cure cancer and while dissecting bodies that were donated to this cause, one of them just gets up like “sup’ man” and they all start walking around like nothing happened. You take your eyes off them for 2 seconds to call their families, look back and they’ve all melted into each other. This is what happened to Alphys Undertale

[goldenroutledge]

don’t you remember

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k

prompts: ❛ you don’t have to keep me company, i’m fine by myself. ❜ & ❛ can you look at me? please? ❜

summary: running into charles at your favorite spot might be fate’s way (or leo’s way) of bringing you back together.

warning(s): some angst but a happy ending!

be my valentine blurb event 💌

You don’t miss Charles Leclerc.

You don’t miss the constant travel, the way he softly snores on planes, how his head used to rest against your shoulder, subconsciously finding comfort in your presence even in his sleep.

You don’t miss his curt, one word responses when words got sharp and petty arguments grew between you. You don’t miss his forgetfulness, his habit of brushing the important things under the rug, knowing that you’ll still be there to deal with them later. Once upon a time, his carelessness endeared you, like when he’d kiss you no matter who was watching. That trait of his ultimately turned against you.

You don’t miss the sound of him practicing piano, at any hour day or night. You don’t miss the way he poured his heart out to the piano and saved nothing for you.

Nor do you miss the pitter patter of Leo’s paws through the halls when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, curling up at the foot of your bed. Okay, maybe you do miss that a little bit.

You don’t miss how after standing by Charles for years, cheering him on from the start, his one true love means more to him than you ever could; having a real shot at claiming the World Driver’s Championship. It’s the only prize he could keep his eyes on, one that you could never compare yourself to, knowing that achievement would be larger than life for him. Everything, and everyone else, coming in second place.

That’s exactly why you couldn’t spare any more time denying the obvious. Months were spent convincing yourself that it was the right decision, reassured by the common saying that people either grow apart or they grow together. The breakup might have been sudden, but you’d grown so far apart that he was out of your reach, and you had grown out of his. Each of your paths had no intersection in sight.

It’s what led you to bail on him at the last minute, deciding to randomly stay home instead of accompanying your boyfriend to a race weekend. Charles had mastered the art of avoiding tough conversations; you’d only done the same. It didn’t break your heart any less knowing that Charles and Leo would arrive home to an empty apartment come Monday.

Sure the furniture, the decorations, the art work, his beloved grand piano… the material things remained. However your clothes, your belongings, your pictures, your presence, it was all gone. Any trace of the years you’d spent together, gone as if they never existed in the first place. If Charles wanted space, this was the only way you knew how to give it to him. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come to regret it.

Seeing his family around has been hard. His beloved mom and brothers now hesitate to rush to your side and talk to you like they used to. They might smile out of habit, recognizing your familiar face before they remember what’s happened between you and Charles. Like the flick of a light switch, you were strangers, despite once upon a time being embraced as a member of their close-knit family.

Social media doesn’t serve much of a purpose for you these days. Your friends understand that being tagged in countless fan edits and gossip posts about your breakup has got to burn. If the breakup itself wasn’t wounding enough, you’re forced to relive it with each notification. Embracing the new routine has been good for you, offering stability that life with Charles simply couldn’t-

You drop your pen, pausing from writing in your journal as the incessant barking of a dog interrupts your train of thought. The sound grows louder with each one.

You take one glance of your surroundings, and that’s when you see him. Leo Leclerc, barreling towards you as quickly as his little legs can take him. He’s now the reason your face lights up in the midst of a rather torturous journaling session.

“Leo! What are you doing over here?” You can’t help but pet him. His tongue hangs out of his mouth and his abandoned leash drags against the grass beneath him.

You then realize that if Leo got away, Charles must not be too far. You hope it’s his assistant taking the dog for a walk today. Then again, your quiet hideout spot is along one of Charles’ favorite trails to run. The hair on the back of your neck stands up when you hear the sound of his voice, calling Leo’s name in hopes that he’ll reappear.

Leo, none the wiser, gives kisses to your exposed skin and barks out in excitement. You cringe, knowing that Charles definitely isn’t too far away after hearing the familiar sound.

He rounds the corner, and upon spotting his dog, Charles is more relieved than anything else. “Leo! There you-,” …Until he sees who Leo ran off to find in the first place. “Y/n? Is that you?”

You wave politely, still trying to calm Leo down from his burst of enthusiasm. “Hi, Charles.”

“I, uhh, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Makes two of us. Looks like Leo had other ideas.”

Charles smiles, approaching slowly as if he’s intruding on the moment. “You scare me when you run off like that.” He mumbles to Leo, catching his own breath as he was clearly in the midst of a workout. “I’m sorry, he still hasn’t learned much about obedience.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Your words are melancholy, and you try to keep the smile on your face despite knowing this will probably be the last time you see either of them. Unless this happens again, of course. Talk about irony. It’s almost as if Charles was summoned here as you were writing about him. You close the journal with haste, hoping Charles didn’t see his name clearly written at the top. “I guess Leo’s not as over me as you are.”

You regret saying the words immediately after they come out. Heat rises to your cheeks, luckily the sun is partially to blame. Charles’ expression hardens, unsure of what to say or do. “You have no idea what this has been like for me, finding that note on your nightstand, telling me you were leaving.”

“Forget it, Charles. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, whatever you may think, it could not be farther from the truth.” Instead of bidding you adieu, leaving this awkward moment for your memory to replay before you fall asleep tonight, he sits down beside you. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened between us, trying to understand how it happened in the first place. Can you just tell me why you did it? Or tell me what I did to cause it?”

You shrug. “People grow apart, Charles. Nothing lasts forever.”

He laughs bitterly. “Glad to see you’ve turned so cynical. Me too.”

“Not cynical, just realistic. Our breakup has helped me realize a lot of things, actually.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s probably time to move to a bigger place, for one. Where I don’t run into my ex at my favorite sitting spot.” Charles freezes like a deer in headlights, until you nudge his arm with your elbow. “Relax, I’m just kidding. Kind of.”

“And you still have jokes. Good to know.”

Leo has calmed down and snuggled up between you and Charles. By the looks of it, he’s dozing off into an afternoon nap. Your heart warms at the sight of him, and though he’s just a dog, you can imagine that he’s feeling content between the two people that adopted him.

“You can come see him anytime, you know.”

“And that’s not just a ploy to get me back into your apartment?”

“You mean our apartment? It used to be yours too.”

“Exactly, used to be.”

“But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore. We can work it out, we can talk about everything that brought us here. Will you give us that chance?”

Your heart pangs with sadness at the reminder that this is all an illusion. Charles isn’t yours anymore, neither is Leo. He can feel your mood change at the mention of your old life together, and the distance that’s wedged itself between you now. “On second thought, you don’t have to keep me company, I’m fine by myself. You should get back to your workout, Charles.”

Absent-mindedly, you doodle on a blank page, hoping it will convince him you’re too busy for this. There’s no way he can let this conversation fall between his fingers. “Well, I need to rehydrate. So I’m staying.”

“Still stubborn, I see.”

“We spent years together, Y/n. You can’t tolerate me for more than five minutes?”

“You know what Charles? I wanted to be nice, to try to extend some kind of olive branch of friendship but I don’t think I can. We ended things for a reason and we can’t be friends.”

“Ended things? You mean, when you fled our apartment in the middle of the night?”

“Spare me. Things were long over between us. You just never had the balls to end it officially. Or at least wish me a good rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but you don’t know what you’re talking about. Leo still sits by the door waiting for you. I must be some kind of idiot because I listen for the door, too. Hoping that one day maybe you’ll walk through it and come back home to us.”

“There is no home for me to come back to, Charles.” You mumble, but he’s insistent on finishing everything he’s been wanting to say to you since you left.

“And as for reaching out, you don’t know how badly I have wanted to. How close I have been to pressing send on some things I probably shouldn’t say, but do you know what stops me?”

“What stops you?”

“The thought of you carrying on, of being happy, maybe being happy with someone else who can give you everything you want. I never wanted to impose on your life because you made it clear that you don’t want me there anymore.”

“Are you insane? That’s not what happened at all! You ‘left’ me so you wouldn’t feel guilty about choosing your career anymore. I left because I didn’t want there to be a choice at all. You say that I left you, but it was mutual. You left me first.”

“Well, I was wrong. I could feel us growing apart and I didn’t do anything to stop it.” Charles shakes his head. “But Y/n, if I knew this is where we would end up, I would change everything. I should’ve never let you let me go. I should’ve fought.” You stay still, ignoring a tear that slips down your cheek and splatters onto the hardcover of your journal. “Y/n, can you look at me? Please?”

Leo’s woken up from the sound of Charles’ voice, alarmed at the distress in his dad’s voice, and the sadness radiating from his mom that he hasn’t seen in far too long. You lean down to kiss the daschund’s head before standing up.

“I should go.”

The dog is quick to follow you, and his cries are unmistakable, as if begging you to stay. Poor Leo never did anything to you. It’s a shame that he suffers from the decisions you and Charles made.

“If you won’t stay for me, will you stay for him?” Charles calls out, finally out of options now that he’s said what’s been weighing on his chest. He walks towards you and takes your free hand in his to stop you. His eyes share a similar look to your own, betting it all on one last plea.

“I can’t change the past. I can’t apologize enough for my mistakes. But if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel for me anymore, I will let you go. I will wish you a good rest of your life and never bother you again if that’s what you want.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I love you, mon chéri. I always have and I always will. And if you decide to walk away, just promise me you won’t forget that.”

You nod, still teary-eyed. “Fine. I won’t.”

“So what’s it gonna be? Do we have to say goodbye?”

“It’s going to take time, Charles.” You look down at the ground, focusing on Leo walking around you.

Charles’ eyes have watered, and you resist the urge to engulf him into a hug. “However long it takes, I’ll be here. I can’t lose you.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“You are. You’ve always been there for me, even when I don’t deserve it.” Charles takes a deep breath, composing himself. “But that’s going to change. I’m going to be someone who deserves you.”

You smile softly. “You’re not so bad, Charles. For what it’s worth, I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I never wanted to lose you either.”

Charles beams at you with hope in his eyes. He wants to hold you, to remind himself that you’re here in front of him after all this time, but he stops himself.

Instead, you take him into your arms, reveling in his familiar embrace. He wraps his arms around you, and his chest feels lighter. “Thank you.” He murmurs into your ear, wishing the moment to last forever.

You both chuckle as below you, Leo barks happily and wags his tail ferociously. “Me? You should be thanking him. If he hadn’t run off and found me here, we would’ve never ran into each other. We got Parent-Trapped by our dog.”

Charles leans down to pick Leo up, sighing in contentment as he looks between you two with admiration. “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

“But something tells me we were always meant to find our way back to each other. Isn’t that right, Leo?”

Leo barks at the sound of his name, confirming what you’ve both known all along; some things are just meant to be.

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