#how am i supposed to make sure all my text is in the same spot???

[outer-edges]

CHLOE BENNET as DAISY JOHNSON in Agents of S.H.I.E.LD (2014-2020)

i am this close to rejecting photoshop editing features entirely and doing it all in my after effects 😭

[bueckersleftbraid]

”—The Weight of Staying

WC: 5.9k

singer/songwriter!azzi x nylibertyplayer!paige

warnings: none? this is pretty much just fluff

Some people are bad at letting go. Others are even worse at walking away for good. Paige and Azzi have always been a little bit of both.

authors note —> hi loves, I’m finally uploading again. I am absolutely in love with this storyline, so I hope that all of you love it too! I’m not sure if I will be adding to this, but let me know if you would like that.

A cool breeze blew through the open window in Azzi’s apartment, which was 5 floors up but the noice of the city was still evident from below. She sat at her desk, the blank page of her song writing book glaring at her. She had tried everything. Rhyming— which Azzi always thought sounded a bit childish anyway—, listening to other artists, just writing out her thoughts. But nothing seemed to work. Everything just felt like it was missing something. And honestly, Azzi felt like a part of her was missing too. She hadn’t spoken to Paige in weeks. Despite Paige having a strand of home games, so she would be in the city for a while, Azzi hadn’t gotten up the courage to text her. It had always been a cycle with them. Almost lovers, almost enemies, always something. 

Their last fight had been, well, stupid to say the least. It always ended in Azzi wanting more and Paige not being able to give her that. Paige had to travel all the time for games or brand deals or whatever event she had going on that week, which left Azzi alone in a city that was supposed to be for them. Despite this, Azzi always found herself being dragged back to the blonde. And tonight was just the same. Azzi felt alone and the only one who could make her feel better was Paige. The only one she wanted to even try. Finally, Azzi decided to pull out her phone, clicking on Paige’s contact.

Are you home?

She hit send, before locking her phone and exhaling. She looked around. God, her apartment was a mess. Cluttered with clothes and suitcases from her recent trip to Los Angeles for a pop-up concert. The only shelf that looked perfect— as it always did— was her vinyl collection. One that held so many memories. Late nights in summer when she would curl up with Paige and listen to music together. 

Suddenly, a buzz. That was quick. 

Home now. Need something?

Azzi smiled at the message. Despite the lack of contact between the two in recent times, Paige still offered to help. Because it was Azzi. How could she not?

A hug maybe. Trying to write and nothings working.

Azzi exhaled as she typed the message. She never felt like she had to hide with Paige, like she needed to feel shame for her emotions.

Want me to come pick you up?

A small smile immediately blossomed on Azzi’s face. They were back. It had always been a routine that Azzi wouldn’t call an Uber. Paige thought they were sketchy. She always said, “You never know who’s driving. Could be a creep,” which Azzi would always agree. The blonde would insist on driving Azzi herself to anywhere she needed.

Yes please, see you in 10?

Text you when I’m outside 

Once she got the message, Azzi packed a small bag. Only intending on one night at most— she had most of her stuff already at Paige’s place anyway. She slipped makeup wipes, a pair of pajamas and some clothes for her meeting in the morning, a small bag of makeup— only the necessities; blush, mascara, and a light coverage concealer— a comb so she could at least part her curls in the morning. Everything else Paige had.  

Soon enough her phone buzzed.

Outside the lobby to the left, my normal spot

Azzi smiled softly at her phone before slinging her bag over her shoulder and slipping on a pair of uggs—her black tasmans that she had matching with Paige. They were a random gift one day. The blonde had said, “I thought they suited us,” which of course made Azzi’s heart flutter— and grabbing her keys. She slipped out of her and walked down the empty hallway of her floor, relishing in the comforting silence of the moment as she waited for the elevator. 

As she exited the lobby, the chill of the midnight air hitting her and sending shivers through her body. Maybe a T-shirt wasn’t the best choice of clothing. The brunette wrapped her arms around herself as she made her way down the block to the black Jeep Grand Cherokee, a large car considering that Paige barely ever drove people around. 

“Hi Az,” Paige spoke, voice smooth as ever, as Azzi slipped into the passenger seat, the brunettes ears immediately being filled with the faint sound of Daniel Caesar.

Azzi leaned back into the seat, letting the city blur past them in streaks of gold and blue. The heat in the car was just starting to kick in, making the windows slightly fogged around the edges. The warmth felt good—comfortable, familiar. But Paige wasn’t acting like herself.

Her left hand gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual, and Azzi noticed the subtle way she leaned her body away from the driver’s side door, favoring her right. It was something only someone who knew her—really knew her—would’ve picked up on.

“You okay?” Azzi asked, glancing over, her voice light but tinged with concern.

“Mhm,” Paige responded quickly, too quickly. She didn’t meet Azzi’s eyes. “Just… sore. Took a fall during the game the other night.”

Azzi turned slightly, folding one leg beneath her in the seat. “Your shoulder?”

Paige sighed, her jaw tightening. “Yeah. Landed weird on it. It’s fine. Just bruised or something.”

There was a pause, the silence settling between them like fog. Azzi could feel it. The thing they always did—this dance of pretending nothing hurt until it did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not accusing, just tired in that way that only comes from missing someone who’s still technically there.

Paige shrugged with her good shoulder. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Azzi didn’t respond at first. The music in the background shifted to something low and piano-heavy—Daniel Caesar bleeding into H.E.R.—and the ache in her chest bloomed a little bigger.

“You’re not a bother,” she said softly. “Not to me.”

Paige didn’t say anything. But she reached across the console, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s until the brunette laced them together.

The rest of the drive passed quietly, just the warmth of Paige’s hand and the soft hum of music holding them together.

They pull up to Paige’s apartment.

The elevator ride up was quiet. Not awkward—just sleepy. Azzi leaned slightly against the wall, her head tilted to the side as Paige fished her keys out of her jacket pocket. The blonde was clearly favoring her right arm now, movements slow and calculated.

“You need help?” Azzi asked, watching her struggle with the key in the door.

Paige gave a dry chuckle. “Don’t insult me.”

Azzi smirked but didn’t respond. She just stepped inside when the door opened, greeted by the soft scent of vanilla and clean linen. Paige always kept the place minimalist, a reflection of how she liked to keep her life—orderly, neat, controlled. Azzi’s own chaotic energy was always a bit of a contrast, but it had blended into the space over time. A pair of her shoes still by the door. Her favorite mug on the drying rack. A sweatshirt draped over the back of the couch.

“I was gonna clean up,” Paige said as she dropped her bag by the door. “But, you know, bruised ego. Sore arm.”

“You think I care if your throw pillows are fluffed?” Azzi replied, dropping her own bag gently onto the couch.

Paige gave her a small smile, something fond flickering across her face. But then she winced again, subtle but noticeable, as she moved to take off her jacket.

“Okay, nope,” Azzi said, stepping forward. “Let me.”

She helped Paige out of the coat gently, the fabric sliding off her shoulders with effort. The blonde hissed a little as her injured shoulder twisted, and Azzi’s hands immediately stilled.

“You’re sure it’s just bruised?”

“I didn’t go to the trainer.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Of course you didn’t.”

Paige shrugged with her good shoulder. “Didn’t want them to bench me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead, she reached for the hoodie Paige had been wearing beneath the coat.

“You’re gonna have to take this off too,” she said quietly. “Let me see.”

Paige hesitated, and for a second, Azzi wondered if she’d resist. But then the blonde raised her arms—slowly, painfully—and let Azzi peel the hoodie off like a second skin. Beneath it, she wore a loose tank top, and Azzi’s eyes immediately caught the faint purpling bruise blooming across her shoulder and collarbone.

“Jesus, Paige,” she breathed. “This isn’t nothing.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not the point.”

Azzi carefully guided her to sit on the couch, then disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a heating pad and a bottle of ibuprofen she knew was always tucked in the medicine cabinet. She handed Paige the pills and plugged in the heating pad, sitting beside her as it warmed up.

They sat in silence for a while, the glow of the living room lamps casting soft shadows against the walls. The pad began to hum gently, heat spreading over Paige’s shoulder. Azzi pressed a blanket into her lap, then curled her knees up on the couch, her head resting lightly against Paige’s good shoulder.

“I missed you,” Azzi said eventually, voice quiet.

Paige looked down at her, eyes soft. “I missed you too.”

They stayed like that for a while. No words. Just warmth. Paige with the heating pad pressed gently against her shoulder and Azzi tucked beside her, legs curled up beneath her, body angled just slightly toward the blonde like she couldn’t help it. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty but full. Of unspoken things. Of things they hadn’t let themselves say for months.

Azzi’s thumb moved idly against the soft material of the blanket, mind tracing memories she wasn’t sure she had permission to keep anymore. She could feel Paige breathing—slow, steady—and she closed her eyes for a second, willing herself not to get swept back into whatever this always was between them. Almost something. Always something.

“You can stay, you know,” Paige murmured, voice low, rough around the edges.

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open. “I planned to.”

“No, I mean…” Paige turned slightly, wincing again. “Stay tonight. But like—not just sleep and go. Just… stay. For a while.”

Azzi tilted her head up, surprised. Paige never asked. Not for time. Not for company. She gave it when she had it, and then she was gone again—training, flying, media, whatever. But not this. Not her asking Azzi to stay.

“What’s that mean?” Azzi asked, soft but not tentative.

Paige looked away, lips pressing into a thin line before she answered.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Just… the apartment’s been quiet lately. And everything feels louder when it’s just me. But when you’re here, it’s… I don’t know. Easier.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. She wanted to be angry—because hadn’t she always been the one who stayed, while Paige let her? But then Paige shifted again, just slightly, and her fingers found Azzi’s beneath the blanket. Their hands slid together like puzzle pieces worn soft with time.

“I’ll stay,” Azzi said. “But I’m taking the good pillow.”

Paige let out a quiet laugh—more air than sound. “Deal.”

They ended up on the bed—not in the way they used to be, not tangled in each other or chasing heat in the dark—but side by side, Azzi having changed into her sleep shirt, Paige in a new hoodie that didn’t pull at her shoulder. The lamp on the nightstand cast a dull amber glow across the room, and somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, low and lazy against the late-night streets.

Azzi lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Paige mirrored her, though her eyes were on Azzi.

“Do you ever think we’re just… bad at timing?” Paige asked quietly.

Azzi blinked, surprised. “All the time.”

“And do you ever think…” She trailed off, her voice catching. “That maybe we’re only like this—when it’s broken. When we’re hurting.”

Azzi turned her head, their eyes meeting in the low light.

“No,” she said, firm but quiet. “I think that’s when we remember we need each other. That’s not the same thing.”

Paige didn’t respond right away, but her gaze didn’t drop. Eventually, she nodded, more to herself than anything else.

“Good,” she whispered. “’Cause I don’t want to forget.”

Azzi reached over and turned off the lamp. The room darkened, and the silence wrapped around them again.

This time, Paige was the one to move first—her good arm draping gently across Azzi’s waist, tentative, like she wasn’t sure she still had the right. Azzi didn’t say anything. She just scooted a little closer and laid her palm over Paige’s hand, grounding them there.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, they both fell asleep easily.

Together.

____

Azzi woke to sunlight.

It poured through the gaps in the curtains, soft and golden, casting faint lines across the white sheets and the wall beyond. For a second, she didn’t remember where she was. Then she shifted slightly, felt the gentle weight of an arm draped across her waist, and everything came rushing back.

Paige. The night. The way they’d just been—no performance, no boundaries, just bodies breathing in sync for the first time in too long.

Azzi blinked against the light, turning slightly to look at her.

Paige was still asleep. Her hair was mussed, falling softly over her forehead, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, the other looped around Azzi like it belonged there. Her expression was unguarded in sleep—lips parted slightly, brows soft, lashes casting little shadows against her cheeks.

Azzi didn’t move.

She didn’t want to.

Instead, she let herself study the woman she had loved in a thousand almosts. Paige always looked so invincible—on the court, in press photos, even just walking down the street in oversized sunglasses and a hoodie like she owned the sidewalk. But like this? With her body curled in the quiet of morning, shoulder still bruised beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt, hand twitching slightly in sleep—she looked real. And Azzi felt something twist in her chest because God, she was still so far gone.

Eventually, Paige stirred. Her fingers flexed gently against Azzi’s waist before her eyes blinked open, hazy and slow.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

Azzi smiled. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world hadn’t cracked open yet. No game plans. No studio deadlines. No red-eyes or sponsorship deals. Just the bed. The blankets. The echo of the night before lingering between them.

But then Paige’s phone buzzed.

Once. Twice. Then a third time—longer, insistent. Paige let out a groan, reaching out with her good arm to grab it from the nightstand.

Azzi rolled onto her back, letting her eyes fall to the ceiling as Paige squinted at the screen. There was a pause, and then—

“Hey,” Paige said, already sliding off the bed. “Gimme a sec. I just have to take this. It's my agent.”

Azzi’s stomach dropped, just a little.

She listened as Paige padded out of the bedroom, her socked feet quiet against the hardwood floor. The door stayed open—just enough that Azzi could hear her voice from the living room.

“Yeah, I know… No, I’m fine, just a small thing with the shoulder. I’ll be good by next week... Yeah, I can make it to LA for the shoot... That soon?”

Azzi closed her eyes.

Of course.

The bubble had to pop eventually. It always did.

She sat up slowly, running a hand through her curls, already matted from sleep. Her chest felt tight—not because Paige had done anything wrong, not really. But because it had been so easy, for just a moment, to believe they were building something new. Something that wouldn’t crack under distance or time zones or priorities that never seemed to align.

Paige's voice carried again, muffled but clear.

“I’ll talk to Azzi, yeah. I think we’re... figuring stuff out.”

Azzi froze.

That phrase—figuring stuff out—hit her in the gut more than it should’ve. She knew Paige meant well. She always did. But that was the problem. Paige always hovered in that middle ground. Never let herself name it. Never jumped in all the way.

Azzi wasn’t sure how many more almosts she could take.

She pulled her legs up onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to quiet the storm that had started brewing again. It was always like this—sweetness followed by the inevitable sting. Paige was a safe place until she wasn’t.

A few minutes later, Paige walked back in. Her face looked slightly flushed, like she knew the spell had broken too.

“Hey,” she said again, softer this time. “Sorry. It was about the Nike thing. They want to reshoot in LA next week.”

Azzi nodded but didn’t look at her.

“Cool,” she said, voice carefully neutral.

Paige hesitated by the doorway. “I didn’t know they’d move it up. I didn’t say yes yet.”

Azzi gave a tight smile. “You will.”

Another pause. Another silence that said more than either of them were ready to.

“I don’t want to leave things like they were before,” Paige said finally. “I want to figure this out. For real.”

Azzi looked up at her. Her eyes were tired, but steady.

“I need you to stop figuring,” she said gently. “And start choosing.”

Azzi left Paige’s apartment just after nine.

She didn’t say much when she slipped on her coat and gathered her things—just pressed a kiss to Paige’s cheek, lingering for a second longer than necessary. Paige had offered to drive her, but Azzi had gently declined. She said she needed air. What she didn’t say was that she needed space to think. To feel whatever it was she had been pushing down since the second Paige picked her up last night.

The morning was crisp, cool enough that the wind stung slightly when it hit her face. She clutched her small bag to her chest as she walked, head tucked low, letting the hum of the city wrap around her. Car horns. Distant sirens. A bike bell. A dog barking from somewhere nearby. All of it layered over itself like some gritty, living song.

She arrived at the small downtown office space she sometimes used with her creative team—a shared suite lined with plants and windows and half-finished lyrics taped to the walls. Azzi was the only one there this early, which she preferred. It was easier to be honest when no one was watching.

She dropped her bag onto the couch and made herself a coffee from the old French press someone had left behind months ago. The smell filled the room—warm, earthy, grounding.

Her laptop was already on the desk. Her notebook beside it. Pages dog-eared and ink-stained, full of scraps of songs that never quite found their endings.

She stared at the blank page in front of her.

For weeks, the words hadn’t come. Everything had felt too forced, too shallow. Every verse had read like she was trying to trick herself into caring. But this morning, something felt different. Not lighter, exactly—but sharper. Like everything was suddenly in focus. The way Paige had held her. The bruise across her shoulder. The way she had said “I think we’re figuring stuff out” like that was enough.

Azzi reached for her pen before she even realized what she was doing.

She didn’t start with a melody. Not even a verse. Just a single line, scrawled in her messy, looping handwriting:

“You only hold me when you’re aching.”

She paused, staring at it.

Then she kept writing.

“You only call when the silence hurts. I only answer when I’m breaking— we don’t love, we just revert.”

The words came like a slow tide, not a flood—but enough. Enough to feel like something inside her had loosened. Like maybe she didn’t have to wait around for Paige to choose her to start choosing herself.

The door creaked open softly about twenty minutes later, and her manager, Cam, poked his head in. “Hey. Didn’t expect you this early.”

Azzi didn’t look up. “Had a weird night.”

“Productive at least?” he asked, nodding at the notebook.

Azzi finally glanced up at him, a quiet fire in her eyes. “Starting to be.”

Cam gave a small, knowing smile. “That’s all we need.”

____ 

The hours blurred.

Azzi stayed hunched over her notebook, the coffee long gone cold on the desk beside her. She filled two pages before she even noticed her hand cramping slightly from how tightly she was gripping the pen. The words weren't perfect. Hell, some of the lines didn’t even rhyme. But they meant something. For the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like she was trying to squeeze a feeling out of herself that wasn’t there.

It was already early afternoon by the time she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her wrist absently. She stared at the mess of her handwriting and felt… heavy, but clear. Like she was finally starting to tell the truth. Even if it hurt.

Her phone buzzed on the desk. She glanced at it, expecting some promo email or a spam call, but her stomach dropped when she saw the name:

Paige.

She hesitated.

Last night had been easy. Easier than it should’ve been. But this morning—watching Paige slip back into the life that had always pulled her away—it was like a cold hand wrapping around her chest again.

Still, Azzi picked up.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Az,” Paige's voice came through, a little breathless, a little uncertain. “Uh... what are you doing right now?”

Azzi glanced around the empty studio space—the sunlight slanting in through the high windows, the echoes of her own restless heart.

"Working," she said simply.

A beat of silence.

“Can I come by?”

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, pressing her fingers to her temple. Paige didn’t usually ask. She just showed up. Like she belonged in every version of Azzi’s life, no matter what.

“Yeah,” Azzi said after a long moment. “I’m downtown, same spot.”

Another pause.

“Okay. Be there in twenty.”

The call ended before Azzi could change her mind.

Twenty minutes later, the studio door creaked open again, and Paige stood there, looking strangely out of place in her sweats and scuffed sneakers, a black baseball cap tugged low over her brow. She had one of those giant iced coffees in hand, the condensation dripping down her fingers.

Azzi didn’t get up. She just raised an eyebrow.

Paige lingered in the doorway, like she wasn’t sure she was invited in after all.

“I brought you one too,” she said lamely, holding out a second drink.

Azzi took it but set it down on the table without tasting it.

Paige shuffled in a few steps, balancing against the table across the small room from Azzi. She looked hesitant, like she was ready to bolt at any second.

"I didn’t mean to make this morning weird," Paige said quietly.

Azzi just looked at her, the silence stretching thick between them.

"I just... I get scared," Paige continued, voice low. “Every time it feels good between us, I get scared. That I’m gonna mess it up. That I’ll choose wrong again. And then I do mess it up, because I’m thinking about it too much instead of just—" she broke off, dragging a hand through her hair. "Instead of just holding onto you."

Azzi swallowed hard, her throat thick.

"You always think you have time," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Paige blinked at her.

"You think you can figure it out later. After the season. After the shoot. After the next flight. But every time you leave, it’s harder for me to believe you’ll come back different."

Paige’s jaw tensed. Her hand twitched like she wanted to reach out, but she didn’t.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” she said finally, brokenly. “But I don’t want to be good at it with anyone else.”

The rawness of it hit Azzi square in the chest.

She stood up, pushing her chair back with a small scrape of wood on concrete. Paige flinched, but Azzi didn’t move toward the door. She walked over to her guitar case instead, pulling it out of the corner of the room where it leaned, forgotten.

“I wrote something this morning,” Azzi said, adjusting the strap over her shoulder.

Paige straightened a little, hopeful, nervous.

Azzi sat on the edge of the couch and let her fingers fall naturally into the opening chords she’d started sketching out hours ago. The music was simple. Honest. A little rough. She hadn’t planned on sharing it with anyone yet.

But this? This was the only way she knew how to explain.

Her voice cracked slightly on the first line, but she kept going:

“You only hold me when you’re aching, you only call when the silence hurts… I only answer when I’m breaking, we don’t love, we just revert…”

When she finished, the room was so quiet she could hear the faint buzz of the old overhead lights.

Paige’s eyes were shining, but she didn’t say anything right away. She just crossed the space between them, slow and careful, and sat on the floor in front of Azzi, knees brushing hers.

“I don’t want to just revert anymore,” Paige said finally, voice raw. “I want to choose you.”

Azzi stared at her for a long moment, guitar still cradled against her ribs like armor. She wanted so badly to believe her. To fall into her the way she always had.

But this time, she needed Paige to prove it.

Not just say it.

Azzi set the guitar down carefully on the couch beside her.

For a second, she didn’t speak. She just let the silence settle between them, heavy but not unbearable. She studied Paige—really studied her. The way her cap was slightly crooked. The way she sat with her hands open on her knees, like she was offering something invisible, something fragile.

"I don't want to be the thing you run to when you're lonely," Azzi said finally, her voice soft but unflinching. "I want to be the thing you stay for."

Paige's lips parted slightly, like she was going to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded—small, almost imperceptible, but real.

"I can't..." Azzi exhaled, pressing the heels of her palms against her thighs. "I can't keep doing this half-way. The almosts. The almost home, almost love, almost enough." Her voice shook, just a little, but she kept going. "If you want me... reallywant me... you have to show up. Not when it's easy. Not when you miss me. Every day. Even when it's hard."

Paige’s throat worked as she swallowed.

"I can," she said, so quietly Azzi almost missed it. "I will."

Azzi stared at her, searching her face for any flicker of doubt. She found none. Just that raw, terrified honesty that Paige always tried to cover up with jokes and casual shrugs.

It hit Azzi then—how hard it must have been for her. To admit she didn’t know how to stay. To admit she was scared. Not of Azzi—never of her—but of what it meant to need someone so much.

Paige shifted closer on her knees, so their legs touched fully now.

"I’m scared," she whispered, eyes never leaving Azzi's. "But I’m more scared of losing you."

Azzi felt something crack wide open inside her.

Slowly, she reached out, letting her fingers brush along the edge of Paige’s jaw. Paige leaned into the touch immediately, her breath hitching.

"You’re not gonna lose me," Azzi murmured. "You just have to meet me here."

Paige closed her eyes like the words physically hurt. When she opened them again, they were glassy, full of something deep and endless.

"I love you," she said, voice trembling. "I love you, Az. I think I always have."

The world seemed to tilt around them. The studio, the city outside, the entire universe, all shrinking down to this—this tiny, infinite space between them.

Azzi’s breath caught. She didn’t say anything at first. She just leaned forward, pressing her forehead to Paige’s, their noses brushing.

And then, when she was sure her heart wouldn’t explode from how full it was, she whispered it back.

"I love you too."

It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t shouted from rooftops or stitched into a song yet. It was a promise made in the quiet, in the space between heartbreak and hope.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her hands finding Azzi’s and gripping tight.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. No more half-way.”

Azzi smiled, small but real.

“No more half-way.”

They stayed like that for a long moment—knees pressed together, hands locked, breathing the same air—before Azzi pulled Paige up onto the couch beside her. They sat tangled up in each other, the half-finished song still humming in the background of the day, like a promise they could finally start believing in.

____

For the first time in what felt like months, there was no rush between them. No ticking clock, no unspoken countdown to goodbye.

Paige stayed.

Not just physically, but really stayed.

After the weight of their confessions, Azzi expected a kind of awkwardness to set in—the kind that usually came after they said too much, after vulnerability cracked them open. But it didn’t. Instead, there was a lightness. A kind of tentative peace.

Azzi leaned back against the worn arm of the couch, legs stretched out over Paige’s lap. Paige didn’t seem to mind; she just absently traced small, lazy patterns along Azzi’s calf with her fingertips, like her hands needed to be touching her at all times now, just to make sure she was still there.

Azzi picked up her notebook again, thumbing through the pages. She wasn’t writing anymore, not really. Just letting herself exist in the space she and Paige had built here—messy, bruised, but somehow still standing.

Paige glanced around after a while, taking in the studio with fresh eyes. "You live here or something?" she teased gently, bumping Azzi’s leg with her knee.

Azzi smiled without looking up. "Feels like it sometimes."

"You should eat," Paige said after a beat, voice soft but a little firm in that way she got when she was pretending not to be worried. "You get weird when you don't eat."

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her amusement. "I’m fine."

"Nope. Not buying it. Come on."

Before Azzi could protest, Paige was shifting her legs carefully off her lap and standing. She stretched—arms overhead, shirt riding up slightly to reveal a flash of tan skin—and then offered Azzi her hand.

Azzi hesitated for just a second before taking it.

They walked a few blocks to a tiny corner deli Azzi liked, one that Paige always pretended was “too sketchy” but secretly loved because they made the best egg sandwiches in the city.

Inside, it smelled like bacon grease and fresh bagels. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. Azzi ordered a sandwich with avocado and turkey bacon; Paige got a greasy, overstuffed BLT and a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

They sat by the window, the city sprawling out in front of them, afternoon sun glinting off car roofs and apartment windows.

Paige unwrapped her sandwich sloppily and took a huge bite. Azzi laughed under her breath as the blonde tried—and failed—to keep tomato from sliding out the side.

"You’re a mess," Azzi said, shaking her head.

Paige just grinned, mouth full. "You love it."

Azzi ducked her head, blushing. "Unfortunately."

They ate in easy silence for a while, trading bites, stealing sips from each other’s iced coffees without asking. Paige doodled on a napkin with a blue pen she pulled from her pocket—terrible little stick figures of the two of them, complete with what she claimed were guitars and basketballs.

Azzi snorted when she saw the final product. "You’re artistically challenged."

"Hey," Paige protested, mock-offended. "That’s our album cover right there."

Azzi smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.

She couldn’t remember the last time it had been this easy. The last time she hadn’t been waiting for Paige to look at her phone or check the time or make some excuse to leave.

Paige was just... here. With her.

Choosing her.

When they finished eating, Paige reached across the table, her thumb brushing a crumb from the corner of Azzi’s mouth. It was such a small thing, such a nothing thing—and yet it made Azzi’s heart stutter painfully in her chest.

Paige’s hand lingered, fingers sliding lightly along Azzi’s jaw, like she couldn’t help herself.

"I meant it," she said, voice low, almost shy. "What I said before."

Azzi caught her hand, holding it there against her cheek.

"I know," she whispered.

And for the first time in a long, long while—Azzi let herself believe it.

____

By the time they made it to Azzi’s apartment, choosing the brunettes place tonight for a change of scenery, the sky had deepened into a soft purple, city lights starting to flicker awake.

Paige kicked off her sneakers by the door without thinking, like it was second nature, and Azzi trailed behind her, dropping her bag with a muted thud.

The apartment still smelled faintly of vanilla candles and Azzi’s floral shampoo—the comforts of home—but the energy was different now. Calmer. More theirs somehow, not just Azzi’s.

Paige wandered into the living room, picking up one of Azzi’s records from the perfectly neat vinyl shelf. She turned it over in her hands, then shot Azzi a soft smile over her shoulder.

"Want me to put something on?"

Azzi nodded, already toeing off her Uggs and tugging her oversized sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in a simple ribbed tank top underneath. She plopped down onto the couch, curling her legs underneath her, watching as Paige carefully slid a record onto the player.

Soft, crackling acoustic guitar filled the room—the kind of music that made everything slow down, even time.

Paige dropped down onto the couch beside her, not bothering with any distance this time. Their thighs pressed together naturally, warmly. Paige let out a quiet sigh, her body relaxing into the cushions.

They sat there for a few minutes, just breathing, the music wrapping around them like a blanket. Azzi leaned her head against Paige’s shoulder without thinking about it, and Paige turned slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate or tinged with fear like it used to be. It was steady. Sure.

Azzi closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the feeling.

"I miss this," she murmured into Paige’s sweatshirt. "I miss us."

Paige's hand found hers, fingers intertwining with a kind of quiet reverence.

"We’re right here," Paige whispered back.

After a while, Azzi shifted so she was tucked completely against Paige's side, her hand splayed over Paige’s heart. She could feel the steady thud beneath her palm, grounding her.

"You know," Paige said after a long stretch of silence, her voice low and a little sheepish, "I still have that stupid necklace you gave me before my rookie season."

Azzi pulled back just enough to look up at her. "The one with the little A on it?"

Paige flushed a little, nodding. "Yeah. I keep it in my bag. Even when I'm traveling. Even when... when we weren't really talking. It just—felt wrong to leave it behind."

Azzi's heart clenched so painfully she thought she might cry.

"You're such a sap," she whispered, blinking quickly.

Paige smiled, slow and crooked and full of everything she never used to say out loud.

"For you? Always."

Azzi ducked her head again, letting her forehead rest against Paige’s collarbone. They stayed like that, breathing each other in, the record turning lazily in the background.

At some point, Azzi must have drifted off because when she blinked her eyes open again, the room was darker, the only light coming from the window where the city glittered beyond the glass.

Paige had adjusted them at some point, laying them down properly along the couch. Azzi was half on top of her, one arm thrown across Paige’s middle, their legs tangled together. Paige’s hand was still rubbing slow, lazy circles against Azzi’s back, her breathing even and steady.

Azzi shifted a little, burying her face deeper into Paige’s sweatshirt.

“Stay,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Paige pressed another soft kiss to her hair, whispering against her curls, "Always."

Azzi smiled into Paige’s chest, her whole body sinking into the kind of peace she hadn’t felt in what felt like a lifetime.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

[ladyofthenoodle]

fic idea from 2020 that the paris special unearthed from the archives of my brain:

So far, there wasn’t a single thing about this new reality that wasn’t terrible. She was grounded, for some reason, which she didn’t know about, and was therefore double grounded for breaking the rules of the grounding. Which she hadn’t known about!

To make matters worse, when she’d gone to text Alya to complain about the unfairness of it all, she realized she didn’t have Alya’s number. In fact, she didn’t have anyone’s number except her parents, Nadja Chamack, her grandmother, and someone called The Supreme.

She next turned to Tikki to vent, but when she checked her (admittedly cool) purse, she found her kwami wide-eyed, terrified, and most horrifiyingly, muzzled—which Marinette couldn’t figure out a way to undo. 

So she was stuck in the bakery on a Saturday morning with angry parents and no one to talk to and no ideas on how to get out of the worst version of Paris possible.

Which is when Adrien Agreste’s bodyguard walked in. Brief hope flared in her heart before extinguishing just as quickly when she saw he was alone.

Which she should’ve expected. With how awful this world was, she wouldn’t be surprised if Adrien didn’t even exist here. She couldn’t imagine a world this awful with him in it.

She bagged up the Gorilla’s order with a heavy heart and sent him on his way before looking out the bakery display window with a sigh.

Only to spot Adrien Agreste himself, with an asymmetrical haircut and thick kohl around his eyes, staring back at her. He was different than her Adrien—and she couldn’t say she was a fan of the hair—but he was just as handsome, and his eyes even more striking with the eyeliner.

When he noticed her looking, his eyes widened and his cheeks started to turn pink.

Was he blushing?

Marinette could feel her own cheeks heating up as he stared. She ventured a small, embarrassed wave, and he—he!—

He lifted his own hand, brought it to his lips, and blew her a kiss.

Crash!

Marinette, along with about 300 macarons, toppled to the floor.

“Good morning, Marinette!” said Adrien Agreste, during a time that was decidedly morning but far too early to be described as ‘good.’ 

She scowled at him.

“Girl, you okay?” said Alya Césaire, who was—who was speaking to her.

Right.

Alya Césaire was speaking to her. Because Alya Césaire, Hesperia’s favorite lackey, was apparently Marinette’s best friend.

And Adrien Agreste was the boy Marinette was in love with.

She plastered a smile on her face. “I’m great, Alya! Super dee duper. Absolutely swell. What a beautiful morning with all the sunshine and the…. morning.”

Alya looked unconvinced.

“And the Adriens!” Marinette added hastily. “I mean, the Adrien. Because there’s only one Adrien and he sure is… here. Hello Adrien! Your face is looking very attractive this morning, because you are an attractive person. And that’s… something positive I can say about you.”

“Thanks, Marinette!” said Adrien with a dopey little smile. She wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or just deeply stupid. If her diary entries were to be believed, it was probably the latter. “Your face is looking attractive this morning as well. Did you do something new with your makeup?”

Marinette had done her makeup the same way she did every day, but she supposed his Marinette opted for a boring girl next door ‘no makeup makeup’ look.

Alya squealed next to her before giving her shoulder an excited squeeze.

Marinette took several deep breaths.

“Yes, I thought I’d try something new.”

Adrien smiled and nodded.

Alya shoved her forward.

Marinette barely managed to restrain herself from sending Alya a patented Toxinelle Death Glare. Instead, she smiled wider at Adrien.

Her cheeks hurt.

“Thank you soooooo much for noticing my makeup. That is a thing I am excited about. I love putting on makeup to impress cute boys, tee hee!”

Adrien’s face fell. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—I know you always dress for you, Marinette! That’s something I really admire about you.”

His eyes were so earnest, so sincere, and for a second, she almost—

Marinette cleared her throat. “That’s so nice! You can leave now.”

Adrien blinked. 

“Bye!” She shooed him.

“Oh, um, bye Marinette,” he said with a sheepish wave, and then he left.

Nailed it.

“Girl, what the actual fuck?”

[vampiriito]

𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ (𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂)

↳ who do i write for? ༉‧₊˚✧ jj maybank, rafe cameron, and stiles stilinksi (if requested!) ₊˚ෆ my fics are 18+, reader is fem, requests are open for any ideas you might have!

Summer was my first love (18+) | pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7

Shy! kook! reader, mostly fluff and the parts can be read as stand alones if that's what you prefer. Reader has social anxiety! –��IN WHICH JJ Maybank ends up getting locked into a closet with a kook girl which he develops a soft spot for. JJ finds himself trying to spark up conversation with the timid and quiet kook girl. What he doesn't know is that she's been crushing on him since forever, and hasn't had the courage to spark up conversation with the blond, resorting to following him around and using him as photography inspiration.

Here comes the sun (18+) | pt.1 pt.2

Kook! reader, fic is inspired by the weeknd's song with the same name. This fic contains cheating, the portrayal of a toxic relationship, unprotected sex all that. This is mostly angst and smut and I'm honestly surprised at how good i am at writing angst. –„IN WHICH you and JJ blur the line between friendship and something more on a whim, and with the intent to keep things casual. But somewhere along the way things get messy in a way that JJ isn't so sure he is fond of anymore. Especially when he finds himself as the other man.

Pillow talk and pleading the fifth amendment (18+) | pt. 1 pt. 2 r.c flashback. pt.3 r.c flashback r.c and reader texts r.c flashback r.c flashback part two r.c flashback

Pogue! reader, love triangle between you, Rafe and JJ. Although my initial plan was getting the reader to end up with JJ there will be 2 alternative endings to this fic! –„IN WHICH you’ve been in love with JJ Maybank for as long as you can remember—until he chooses Kiara. In the wreckage of your heartbreak, you find yourself in Rafe Cameron’s bed, again and again. It’s a mistake you keep making, like picking at a wound that won’t heal. He's cruel where JJ was kind, calculated where JJ was free, and yet, somehow, you keep crawling back. It isn’t love. It isn’t even comfort. It’s control lost in the dark—his hands on your hips, his mouth on your throat, and that smirk he wears when he ruins you. You tell yourself you can stop. That you’re not one of them. But every time he touches you, it gets harder to remember who you were before this.

Lucky charm | pt. 1 pt. 2

Mermaid! reader, although there's a lot of sea nymph culture in this fic, this was requested when i started this blog so i held it close to my heart since it was my first request! –„IN WHICH JJ decides to go out surfing on a hurricane and gets saved from almost drowning by a figure which he didn't get the chance to look at. Or even confirm it was a person. His friends humor JJ and call him insane, but will they finally believe him when he shows them the person he found in the beach cave?

Cherry bomb | prologue. pt.1

Drummer! Frat boy! Rafe x bitchy reader who hates his band –„IN WHICH your roommate starts dating the bassist of a rising college band, dragging you into a world of parties, late-night gigs, and too many eyes. One pair in particular: Rafe Cameron’s. He’s the drummer, the golden boy with a temper, and he acts like he can’t stand you—but you’ve caught him staring more times than you can count. When a rumor spins out of control, you're forced into a fake relationship to save face, and suddenly you’re spending too much time with someone who’s been quietly watching you for months. It’s supposed to be pretend—until the tension boils over, and the line between obsession and affection gets dangerously thin. He says you’re his muse. You’re starting to believe he means it.

More to come as i write! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[euphoricfilter]

For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!

youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:

tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3

notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.

notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺

𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.

𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.

𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.

𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore

𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.

𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.

𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation

𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing

𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.

𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.

𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.

𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom

𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face

𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.

𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”

𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.

𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.

𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon

𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help

𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye— a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening

𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.

𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”

𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background

𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in

𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)

[blueaprondelight]

promise me? | carmen berzatto

rating: | cw: mentions of mikey’s death/funeral, a few timeskips, afab/fem!reader, angst/fluff content, unfinished ending i guess (i’m so down to write a part two if yall ask for it tbh)

nav post

request: “a more angsty idea would be that reader was dating Michael and no one knew she was pregnant when he died… so in order to avoid making their family sad/starting conflict, carmy agrees to pretend that they’re dating and it’s his kid? “

Since the funeral four months ago, your world had felt.. emptier.

Michael Berzatto was your everything. He was the boy in high school who threw rocks at your window, who climbed inside to make out with you on your bed until he fell asleep holding you close, only sneaking out to avoid your parents learning about his visits.

He was the guy who would make a big deal out of every small accomplishment. He was the person who you planned on spending the rest of your life with.

That was until everything happened. One phone call from the Chicago Police Department, and your entire view of the future had been shifted. There was one less person in it.

You didn’t talk to his family much anymore. His younger brother, Carmen, was the only person you really kept in touch with. You called Sugar every so often, and you’d send Donna a check-in text every week or so.

You knew Carmy was in New York, and he hadn’t come to the funeral. You weren’t expecting to see him again until he showed up on your doorstep.

The one thing he wasn’t expecting? You to open the door, tears in your eyes and a pregnancy test in your clenched hand.

“Hey, are you okay?” is the first thing Carmen says. He wraps his arms around you, trying to soothe you in anyway he can. A slight head shake from you and you taking a step back, holding the test out for him to see.

“I’m pregnant. The one person I should be able to tell.. isn’t fucking here.” Your soft voice breaks his heart. It’s the rush of realization that comes first.

The fact that, you’re pregnant with Mikey’s baby.

And Mikey is dead.

“Y/N, we can.. we’ll figure this out.” He promises in a whisper, and you shake your head, more tears streaming. “How?! How am I supposed to do this by myself?” You ask, and you fall into Carmen’s arms, crying on his shoulder. He could care less about the tear stains on his white tee.

If Mikey were here, if there was a way to talk to his dead brother right now, he know what he’d say: “take care of her. Take care of my baby for me.”

“You aren’t alone. You have me.” He swears.

It’s what his brother would want.

“Promise me?” You request quietly. And he nods, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I promise.” He repeats.

──

You knew bringing up the pregnancy to Mikey’s family would be.. rough. Sugar and Donna would be upset, with Donna resenting every choice you make.

It would be chaos. So, you kept it a secret, which was harder than it seemed.

You and Carmen had it planned out. To start “dating” two months later, and lie about the timeline of your pregnancy. No one had to know other than you two.

You and Carmen announced your pregnancy to the Berzatto clan three months later, seven months after Mikey died. All of it felt rushed and you found yourself having to force yourself to slow down.

Thankfully, though, Carmen was by your side through it all. Moving in with you and helping set up the nursery, which you made sure to send photos of to Natalie and Donna.

You were there for him when he took over the Beef. It was a while before you found the strength to go back there again, reminiscing on the times you spent in there with Mikey. Him flirting with you as you volunteered your time behind the counter.

Once you had, you found yourself in the same spot you were nearly a year ago. Laughing with Tina and Marcus, threatning jerks with Richie. Even making friends with the new chef, Sydney.

Carmen thought it was good for you. He found himself smiling in the back office as he heard your familiar, light laughter and calming voice.

“You were deeply missed!” Marcus says as he hugs you while you laugh. “So, how’s pregnancy going?” Tina asks as you sigh. “It is a bitch sometimes. But this little one will be worth it.”

“Can I just say.. thank you for bringing a smile to my brother’s face. Seriously. He hasn’t been this happy in a while.” Natalie says as you nod. “It isn’t just me. You guys play a huge part in that.”

“Yeah kid but none of us are having his baby.” Marcus points out. “I should hope not.” You reply, and that’s when the kitchen fills with laughter.

It felt like you were at home again. Carmen wasn’t the only one smiling again.

──

You stood in the nursery, your bump larger. It felt surreal to believe how far you’d come.

You were in your third trimester, 38 weeks pregnant. The nursery looked gorgeous, with a shelf close to the door holding photos from the maternity photoshoot you and Carmen did as well as sonograms pictures.

You wanted to memorialize Mikey in the room as well. A frame sits on the shelf near the sonogram, containing a photo of Natalie, Carmen and Mikey as kids.

You run a hand over Mikey’s spot in the photo, shaking your head and setting it on the shelf. “I remember the day that photo was taken. Mike hated that shirt. That was the only good photo that our mom decided to keep.” Natalie says, entering the room with a glass of water for you.

You accept it, only to nearly drop the glass when a tightening in your stomach forms. It’s at that moment you realize - your water broke, you’re having contractions and.. you’re in labor.

It’s a frenzy from there. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. You waddling-running out to the car, Natalie following behind with the bags while you begin calling Carmen’s phone repeatedly. Time feels like it’s slowed.

It isn’t until you’re at Chicago Medical and being wheeled down the hallway to your labor and delivery room that you realize two things:

1. You’re actually having this baby.

2. Mikey won’t be here to see it.

Some part of you, the part that hasn’t been hitten by the grief yet and the same part that won’t accept he’s gone, is now being hit with the grief. The realization he won’t just come into the room and come back into the room or your life again. It doesn’t rush over you, it drowns you instead.

Maybe it was just the pregnancy excitement and rush. Things hadn’t felt real since the funeral and now? Now they were forcing themselves to be accepted. Forcing you to realize that this is occuring.

It isn’t until you’re alone in the room that you allow the tears to break free. Your vision feels blurred as your heart aches for a man whose gone. One who isn’t here anymore and you can’t change that.

The sight that Carmy finds in the hospital room hurts his heart. It’s quiet, the beeping of monitors that are keeping an eye on your vitals, the baby’s vitals, contractions is the only noise filling the room. You’re seated upright, your eyes exhausted.

“Hi. How are you?” He asks softly as he walks over. He hesitantely puts a hand on your face to brush some of the hair away, and you allow it. You sigh, your face relaxing when he cradles your face like you’re the most precious thing.

“It hit me.” You say softly. “I let myself grieve for a week before his funeral, and then at least three afterward. And then I found out I was pregnant and I bottled it up because I couldn’t do it anymore. And now it hit me again. That I’m having his baby and he’s not going to get to meet him, or her.” Your fists clench at the anger of it.

There are five known stages of grief. Denial, anger, barganing, depression and acceptance. You were on the second stage: anger.

There’s nothing Carmen can say. No words to make it all better, he knows that from his own experience and people trying with him. So, instead, he stays quiet and he lets you get it out.

You exhale, laying back with his help as he props a pillow for you. “Thank you for being here.” You say softly as he takes your hand in his, entertwining your fingers. “I made a promise to be here with you through all of this.”

He intends to keep that promise.

──

‘Roan Michael Berzatto’. Eight pounds, six ounces. Born at 11:37 AM.

Most of the labor process felt like a blur. You remember crying, a lot, and Carmen holding your hand and letting you squeeze while you push, doctors and nurses overlapping each other as they speak to you. Sweat pooling on your forehead as a nurse wiped it away.

Roan looks like Mikey. He has his eyes, his nose, even the same small smile when he sleeps. It’s faint, but it’s there.

His entire hand wraps around Carmen’s pinky while he holds him. There’s a warm aura in the room, the sunlight filling the room perfectly.

You sit, watching them. Carmy walks over and sits beside you on the bed while he puts your son on his legs, as you look down at him. “He really does look like Mike.” You say softly, and Carmen laughs.

There’s a quiet in the air before he speaks again. “I love you.” He says softly. “I know maybe this isn’t the right time to tell you that, but I had to. We agreed to tell everyone this is our son and I want to keep that up, but I want more for us. I want you and I to.. be something more.”

You don’t say anything more, instead you lean over and press your lips against his, letting yourself embrace him. To take in what it feels like to kiss him, be this close to him.

Your world was suddenly full again.

[saursoob]

traitor- FOUR: tyuns plans? pt 2

synopsis: you and yeonjun were best friends for most of your life’s but he’d recently gotten into a toxic relationship with someone you’ve never liked, he knew that and still decided to be with her. though you’d never thought he’d go to the extent of cutting you off because of her. much less expect that years later he’d make his way back into your life.

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you were dying of boredom and thirst. you and jay had been in this cafe for what felt like hours, which it probably was.

getting up from your seat to stretch you suggest to jay, “im kinda thirsty how about we get some refreshers? plus i am in desperate need of a break.”

jay gets up sighing in relief, “thank god my brain hurts”

you laugh at his response, “i thought you were supposed to be my tutor?” he looks back at you with squinted eyes and furrowed eyebrows, “hey i only offered because we both need it”

you chuckle, getting in line with jay when you suddenly hear a familiar voice ordering in front of you. it sounded like.. soobin?

you scanned the cafe nervously to see if yeonjun was around and sure enough there he was with taehyun and kai. sitting at a table near the entrance door, luckily away from where you were sitting.

you felt a bit of relief for a moment, that was until taehyun spotted you. you immediately broke eye contact hoping he somehow didn’t see you. you thought surely he wouldn’t come up to you or something? you thought wrong.

“y/n its been a while!” taehyun spoke. feeling a pit in your stomach all you could muster up to say was “haha! yeah it has!” your voice slightly breaking from nervousness between a fake chuckle. by this point you could feel yeonjun’s and his entire friend group’s eyes on you.

thankfully jay was there to break the tension, “oh, you must be one of y/n’s old friends?”

taehyun immediately responded with a small smile “yeah, we haven’t spoken in a while but i was hoping on changing that. y/n do you think we can speak outside?”

you quickly look at jay for confirmation to which he simply nods slightly giving you the “okay”.

-

you followed taehyun and as soon as you were both outside he started speaking. “i know this might seem weird considering everything but yeonjun is going through a really hard time right now. i assume he’s texted you about it?”

your heart heavy as you nodded “yeah he did text me about it.”

taehyun sighs, “well, i guess im not surprised. he acts like he’s fine with us but i know hes not. i mean who could? being in a 3 year toxic relationship…”

you felt terrible, guilty that you didn’t respond to yeonjun’s text.

there was a moment of silence before taehyun started talking again. “but thats not what i wanted to talk to you about. i don’t want to say it now though, would you mind if i texted you?”

you knew you shouldn’t but- “yeah go ahead my number is still the same”

-

(a few days later)

YALL BETTER BE FEDDDD WITH THIS EP BC IT TOOK ME SAUR LONG FOR WHAT??? I USED TO BE HORRENDOUS AT WRITING WHEN I STARTED THIS BLOG OMG i literally hate writing ‼️ one of the reasons why i make texts but lmk if this is acceptable ☝️

tags: (@bbinwrld @soobsfairy444 @stqrgr7 @nishik1 @skittlez-area512 @odisdad @zonked-times @vocaloshin @vixensss)

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 24 "our town" thoughts

this episode was quite spooky. because cannibalism is real. but something about scully about to get her head chopped off and boiled seemed more outlandish than all the aliens and the guy that kills people with his shadow or even lizard man eugene tooms!

which is strange. because those things are pretty outlandish! maybe its because it was so much scarier than even evil lizard men.

let’s jump in:

so this is an episode involving more meat. did we need more meat, after the earlier meat processing content in s2 episode 10? many are saying no. but not chris carter!

we begin at a dirt road at night. in the state of arkansas. we have an older man and a younger woman named paula in a car, which is not suspicious at all! /s

oh and now the old man choking? is this natural or did she induce it with some poison. i mean maybe he deserved it, if she did. he takes some pills, so I’m guessing it is due to natural causes. now she beckons him out to the woods. 

into the woods. she says he has to catch her. is she luring him into a Bigfoot trap? we have yet to really see Bigfoot, and maybe he’s hungry. although Bigfoot is more Pacific Northwest than Arkansas, i think.

author's note: we tested negative for bigfoot in this episode :(

oh! this man tripped and is now surrounded by people with flashlights and very cool masks. get axe murdered, fucker.

back in DC! aforementioned fucker has been gone for 10 weeks and scully thinks the higher ups are sending them on a wild goose chase. “i’m not questioning the legitimacy of the case, just their motives in assigning it to us” <- damn, very well spoken by a rightfully suspicious woman

oh, but at the scene, someone saw a fire. and mulder says the fire is “supposed to be the spirits of massacred Indians” OH...

(mentally i was like, please do not be another scary Indigenous story episode. and we did in fact get that. sighs deeply. we can make things scary without making Indigenous people the scary ones! or using the trauma of genocide as a setting for spooky time! well, i'm sure you, dear reader, know that, so i shall not preach to the choir, but i will point out that these thoughts were going through my mind)

“these are only legends, mulder”, says a dismissive scully. and why is her hair looking excellent today. I mean not that it isn’t usually but damn. shoutout to the hair and makeup team.

the place on the side of the road where he went missing had a big fire! could be a bonfire, both parties thought. until mulder remembered a documentary he saw in college...

(hehehehe mulder spent college watching documentaries <3)

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! wow it's been a while since i've gotten to format some text like that. he watched a documentary about an insane asylum in college and it gave him nightmares.

(and this may not be super relevant to his character, but to ME, it is, so i shall note it <3)

he's got the VHS from the doc all loaded up, and presses play on a guy rambling about a fire demon!! who was found in the same spot as the fire mark!!! dun dun dunnn 

(love the implication that he either purchased his own copy of the documentary that gave him nightmares in college, or had to go rent it from the video store. both are wonderful possibilities)

cut to arkansas. mulder is on the scene holding a plastic fork from the ground. wearing his silly sunglasses. lmaooo idk why they make me laugh. what a serious gentleman.

sheriff arrives at the scene. he says the witch’s peg to ward off spirits is normal there and also that the fire mark comes from illegal trash burning. and, as an American i am aware of how Americans love an illegal trash burn. but still. suspicious.

sheriff says the missing man george was chasing women out of town. lovely sounding fellow /s

wife questioning time!! he left her years ago. oh, but tea: the day before he went missing he was going to cite major health violations in the chicken plant! hmm... a cause for murder?

mulder gives the wife his phone number. also mulder is also looking very good today. but that is an evil voice in my head that ought to be silenced.

noooo, it's chicken plant time. no thank you ma’am, i would be out in the car <3

paula from the woods at work in the plant!!! taking mystery pills. seemingly in pain??

chicken cutting cam. oh, this is not for me! 

the agents chat with the manager, who says george was trying to shut them down. and while clocked in, paula is sweating. she just gasped in front of a whole bunch of chickens and some guy with very blue eyes. she sees a human head on the chicken stand and picks it up and throws it off. shoutout to this fake decapitated head and my best friends in the prop department for making such a funny creation.

(but of course, it was a hallucination, and she really just threw a poor chicken on the floor!!! his sacrifice was in vain... gone but not forgotten)

mulder is inspecting the chicken gutting operation and i've said it before and i'll say it again: he is braver than me. 

ohh, more chicken drama: george was filing a lawsuit about “line hypnosis” and it was dismissed before he vanished! he deserved to win. is there a meat processing union? there ought to be. but he was the only one citing bad health practices, the other 3 workers said it was fine... sooo what’s the truth…

“what’s that” asks mulder, who then gets shown the feed processor, and asks “chickens feed on chickens?” <- heartbreaking realization. many of us remember where we were when learning this information. i'm sure it will stick with him forever. and i'm frankly surprised he didn't know already.

NAURRR THE SLUDGE AND BLOOD nasty nasty evil

OH plot twist: paula is holding the manager with a knife to his throat… scully telling everyone to calm down. personally i would be not calm. she said “don’t get excited” but me? experiencing an active hostage situation at my place of work? i would be excited

NOOO the sheriff shot her and she fell into the feed conveyor belt processing… thing. sheriff i KNOW you are covering something up. you will not hide from me.

SHE GETS GULPED INTO THE FEED BELT THINGY GAGGG it’s giving the jungle by upton sinclair that caused many american 8th graders to confront the corruption of the meat industry

paula had gone to the doctor about headaches… like george!!! doctor had assumed the condition was stress induced. and they did have similar symptoms. 

treated them both with codine… ain’t that a bit strong?? this man doesn't seem to be a very good doctor, tbh. i mean i don't think the guy that works at the chicken plant to sew back on fingers needs to be an expert in everything but like. codine for headaches? umm girl.

mr. chaco of chaco’s chicken was paula’s grandfather… if i was a grandfather rich off of chicken money, my grandkids would not be working the processing line, let me tell u that much!

back to the agents: these two should not be looking as good as they do in a chicken processing plant. they had to really step it up today to compensate for the horrors of the set.

chicken man lives in a mansion. further evidence of corruption. paula, i would not have had you working in such conditions if i was your grandfather. there has been a deep wrong here, i can see already.

and he’s got a big hat and is feeding his chicken corn. not other chickens, like the feed he makes in his plant... seems he is aware of the ethical issues implied in his business. also, mulder with those weird ass glasses. 

cacho is going on about the subject of chickens. and how he built this town. he sure is taking an awful lot of credit for creating a town, pretty sure that's a team effort mr. chaco. he's also going on about how he thought george was trying to tear him down. 

AUTOPSY TIME!! rare degenerative disorder in da brain of paula. and scully has only seen it one other time back in med school because you can only really find it in an autopsy. nice work, doctor! <- i just typed “nice worm 🪱” so we'll let that stay for the added sense of whimsy it provides

but despite looking like a young girl fresh out of high school, paula was born in '48?! she was 47 years old. allegedly. this is not adding up. so they go on a quest to find her birth certificate and see what the truth is.

debrief in the car. so: odds are not great that she and george had the same very rare disease

during this discussion, our duo are run off the road by a chicken truck!!!! no! oh... he drove them into a river. mulder has shifted into rescue mode as the river is red with chicken gore. i feel someone might be distracting them and trying to get the body… (this was actually not the case i was just overly suspicious)

but more chicken drama: the driver had the same symptoms as george and paula! how can this be?!

“i just came up with a sick theory, mulder” (grabs her shoulder) “ooh, I’m listening” LMAOOOO this is sososo funny to me. yeah tell me ur sick theories scully you have my full attention.

GAG!! because it is both gross and shocking. her theory: what if someone put george’s body in the feed grinder, and then since it’s a prion disease, a chicken ate it, and someone ate a chicken, and it spread to the humans!!!! AHHHH! well that would be an epidemic, because they ship chickens out across the country… she glances knowingly, implying things could be very bad 

the river is filled with bird gore from the plant BLECH... who allows this??!! please say there are some modern regulations in place to prevent this being done irl.

mulder says he wants it dragged, thinking that maybe george is in there. and the sheriff is hesitant to do this. once again, i’m onto you, sheriff. i mean, a river full of chicken gore: it would be a good place to put a dead body.

and bam! a body is found. or rather. many many many bones. many bodies. and they are still going. damn.

so, we have a ton of bones. scully can put them into 9 distinct skeletons, one of which is in fact george. i love that she can do that, put the bones into distinct skeletons. she knows it's geroge from a pin in his femur!

“all of them share one, strange detail though” “well, they seem to have lost their heads” “… well, besides that” <- LMAOOOO idk why this was so funny to me... he really thought he picked up on something but he did Not.

here's the linking detail: all the bones are smooth and buffed like they have been polished. ??? who is polishing bones? it sure isn't me, i'll tell you that much. 

george’s wife is at the scene, learning her husband's body has been found, and she is sobbing. and the sheriff says “we’ll take care of you” now what does THAT mean? because it's not really sounding like the welcoming words of a man who is going to guide his neighbor through tragedy, and instead like there is something bigger at play here...

back at the plant, the doctor is mentioning another guy coming down “with the symptoms”…. omg. so this IS a known thing from the inside. mr. chaco knows but he isn’t doing anything about it!!!!! chicken dramaaaa goes crazy 

scully at the scene of all the bones, carrying a bucket of chicken. lmao. she is braver than me, for i would have gone vegan the first moment i set foot in chicken processing land.

mulder does some digging: 87 people have disappeared in the area in 50 years! that seems... a lot? and he thinks the same person or persons were responsible. he thinks they were EATEN!! boiled in a pot.

“they used similar evidence to prove cannibalism among on the Anasazi tribe of New Mexico” okay: 1. why do you know that 2. need to look into these allegations for myself and 3. Anasazi… that is the title of the next episode!!! what could this mean!! another cannibalism episode?!

scully is very sad to say that paula could have gotten sick from eating george :( girl I’m not convinced the chicken is clean put it down NOW 

cannibalism = eternal life? follow for more crazy mulder theories!

she puts aside the chicken……. good!

mr. chaco says “he’ll handle it” and george's wife doris arrives, saying she “can’t keep lying”… she says “she did it” (!!)

OH????? she... killed her husband? that is a bold thing to admit to.

“we’re gonna take good care of you”, says mr. chaco, which raises the question: are they a cannibal cult???? is that what he means when he mentions that he “built this town”???

now what the hell is going on. <- an interjection i stand by

mulder and scully are going to the courthouse to look at the papers and all the birth records are burnt!! doris calls mulder and says he’s afraid mr. chaco will kill her… they split up…. nooooo i hate splitting up!!! i watched so much scooby doo as a kid!

GASP! a guy in a mask like we saw at the very beginning of the episode is in doris' home!!! drumbeat playing while she screams…. overall, this is very not good, i wrote, referring to the use of Indigenous imagery for this murder, and also doris being murdered in the first place

scully at the scene of the murder ft. big ass flashlight. she gets in through the side door. gun: out. trench coat: open. looks: served. diagnosis: baby girl that could kill me, and i am respectful of the fact that she has this power yet refrains from using it on me.

mulder at mr. chaco’s house. mr. chaco has some… stuff in his home. including photos with Indigenous people and also bones. having human bones in your house, and especially on display, is not a good sign of ethics in play. and a skull. Oh! it says the skull is from a tribe in New Guinea... why tf does he have that. put it back???

at the back of chaco's parlor, we see a mysterious door. mulder is busting it open.

LORD ALMIGHTY, I DID NOT THINK THERE WOULD BE HEADS INSIDE??? HELLO???

so that must be where all of the heads that mulder noticed were missing have gone. they're sewn up sort of like shrunken heads. very spooky. once again, pour one out for the props department for such a creation.

noooo chaco is in the house with scully, who was investigating the call of doris. NOOOO HE KNOCKED HER OUT!!! this seriously needs to stop happening like i'm worried about the brain damage she is experiencing.

back to mulder cam. goodness. all of these heads. 

in a field now. doctor is serving some soup. to a bunch of people. who are eating around a big bonfire. do NOT tell me scully is in that meal....

she is not. YET! but he is bringing her over to be roasted. and they ate doris! chaco is yelling about turning on each other and how they were only supposed to eat outsiders. girl you shouldn't be eating anybody last time i checked. 

man in the mask shows up with an axe. and chaco is decapitated in front of scully. who is put into the decapitation thingy next. GIRL THIS IS FUCKED UP!!!

mulder on the scene, just in time. he shoots the dude in the mask.

“you alright?” he asks, brushing her hair back after lifting her out of the decapitation machine. my good friend, i would venture to guess that she is not quite alright at the moment!!! this will take an awful lot of unpacking!!!

sigh. but the tenderness of the near death experience. coming back to life in someone's arms. yeah i'll romanticize that.

TEA!!! the sheriff was the one under the mask!!!!!! i knew he was up to no good.

wrap up: chicken place shut down. unclear how many citizens of the town ate people. 27 have become ill with prion disease. chaco’s plane was shot down in 1947, and he spent 7 months with a cannibalistic tribe, and also he was born in 1902, so he was 93 at his death- so the cannibalism really WAS extending life. and we see some more feed being scooped to the chickens as scully says his remains have yet to be found. end scene.

HUH???? what in da hell. so what are we thinking kids…?

well, i'll tell you something: turns out i am afraid of cannibal cults, no matter how outlandish they seem! i guess when you get a villain or evil situation of the week show like this, you WILL learn exactly what kind of fear pushes your buttons. i can imagine almost nothing scarier than being led to the slaughter like scully was. seems a purposeful commentary on the meat industry, especially when taken in with the other meat episode this season.

so, if i were scully, i do think i would need to take a week or so off. but she is just built different than i am.

some things bugged me here. first of all, like i mentioned, you don't need to throw in Indigenous people to make a scary story. like is the thought of a bunch of arkansas cannibals not horrific enough? the scary was there!

second, i have not been doing a kidnapping count, but i feel that scully is getting the rough of the deal here. i believe in gender equality when it comes to characters being kidnapped. like, an even 1:1 ratio. why are we denying mulder his damsel in distress arc? does anyone think about how he would feel? how nice it would be to see scully burst in with a gun and shoot the fellow that was about to cannibalize him?

still, it is rare an episode actually spooks me, so i must give credit where it is due. even if it felt a little outlandish, your girl was frightened! scully needs a vacation now. i also thoroughly laughed at the sick theories line and his funny sunglasses.

it's funny to note, but i like the episodes that are either very silly and light hearted, or incredibly angsty the best. and that may seem contradictory, but you cannot tell me that one breath and humbug may be on opposite ends of the tone spectrum, but they are both objectively Perfect. i'll have to think more on why they are the best in my opinion, but i think honestly i would watch these two read the dictionary.

[wingsofeuphoria]

IDOLIZE - Chapter 5 -

Mature 18+

(Ongoing Fanfiction)

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

side characters: Cat x Nicholas

Link to chapter 4: https://www.tumblr.com/wingsofeuphoria/779309206821109760/post-by-wingsofeuphoria-1-image

- Chapter 5 -

Word count: 5.7k

The morning came too quickly, the bright sunlight streaming through the curtains and pulling me from my dreams. I blinked against the harsh light and groaned, reaching for my phone to check the time.

It was nearly 10 AM.

I quickly sat up, my heart racing a little. Cat had already jumped out of bed, and I could hear her rummaging through her bag, likely picking out something to wear. I stretched, trying to shake off the lingering exhaustion from last night's events, but my mind kept drifting back to Jungkook and the kiss.

What did it mean? Was it just a drunken moment, or was there something more to it?

Before I could overthink it too much, Cat's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts. "Y/N! We're supposed to meet the guys in, like, an hour! Are you awake yet?"

I quickly got out of bed and started getting ready, but my hands were shaking a little as I chose my outfit. The reality of everything hit me harder this morning. We weren't just at some K-pop concert; we were about to spend the next week with BTS and &TEAM in Korea. The whirlwind of last night felt like something out of a dream, but it was real.

And I was still trying to figure out how to handle it all.

I tossed on a cute, oversized hoodie and a pair of comfy jeans, knowing the day ahead would be another adventure. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it felt like every second of this trip was going to be more surreal than the last.

As I finished getting ready, Cat bounded over, looking extra excited. "Are you ready for the hotel? I can't believe they're putting us up in a 5-star place!"

I shot her a grin, trying to hide how nervous I felt. "Yeah, it's going to be amazing. But let's not forget, the guys are really going out of their way for us. We should make sure we don't make them regret it."

Cat laughed, spinning around. "Are you kidding? They're probably just as excited about us being here as we are about being here. I mean, seriously, Y/N—do you think Jungkook will call you today? Like, for real?"

I raised an eyebrow, giving her a teasing look. "You're asking me that? You kissed Nicholas last night, girl. What are you expecting to happen?"

Cat's face flushed bright red, but she quickly recovered, a playful smirk on her lips. "I don't know, but... you know, I kind of hope he calls. Or at least texts. I'm not going to lie, I really want to see him again."

I grinned at her. "Well, you've definitely got a shot. He was so into you last night. He said he loves Portugal, Cat. That's basically a green light."

Her eyes went wide as she squealed. "I'm not going to survive this week. I swear."

"Me neither," I said, feeling the same excitement bubbling inside me. "But for now, let's just enjoy it. Whatever happens, happens. We'll just go with the flow."

"Agreed!" Cat said, already pulling her shoes on and grabbing her purse. "Let's go meet them at the hotel!"

As we left the Airbnb, I couldn't help but feel the sense of anticipation rise in my chest. This was real now. We were about to walk into another chapter of this incredible adventure.

When we finally arrived at the hotel, the first thing I noticed was how luxurious the lobby was—high ceilings, gold accents, and glass chandeliers. I felt a little out of place in my casual outfit, but the guys didn't seem to mind at all. They were waiting for us in the lobby, looking just as cool and composed as they had the night before.

Jungkook was the first to spot us, his eyes lighting up with that familiar warmth. "Hey," he greeted, his voice soft but undeniably affectionate. I felt my heart flutter at the sight of him, the memory of last night still fresh.

"Good morning!" I replied, my voice slightly more nervous than I wanted it to be. I couldn't help it. Being near him felt... different. And I wasn't sure if it was just the alcohol from last night or something more.

"Good to see you both again," Jungkook said, giving us a warm smile. "I hope you're ready for a relaxing day. The hotel is all set, and we've got everything covered for the week."

"We still can't believe this is real," I said, trying to keep my cool. "Thank you for everything. We're both really grateful."

Cat, ever the excited one, jumped in. "Seriously, thank you! We're living the dream right now!"

Jungkook chuckled and glanced over at the other members. "It's the least we could do. We wanted you to enjoy your time here."

The staff then led us to our rooms, and I was taken aback by how amazing everything looked—plush bedding, modern decor, the perfect view of the city. It was beyond anything I could have imagined.

Once we were settled into the suite, I looked over at Cat, whose eyes were practically sparkling. "I can't believe this is our life right now."

"I know," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't wait to see where this all goes. Maybe Nicholas will text me. Maybe Jungkook..."

I smiled, nodding. "Let's just take it one step at a time. We've got the rest of the week, and who knows what's coming next?"

As we settled in, I couldn't stop the whirlwind of thoughts running through my head. The next few days were bound to be just as crazy, and I couldn't wait to see what would unfold. But one thing was for sure—I was definitely not going to let this opportunity slip away.

The day passed in a blur. After settling into our luxurious hotel rooms, the excitement of everything settled in—too quickly. We had a little downtime to relax, but Cat and I couldn't shake the feeling of being in another world entirely. It was still hard to wrap our heads around the fact that we were here, in Korea, living out what had only existed in our dreams up until now.

As the evening drew closer, Jungkook texted me, and I felt my heart race when I saw his name on the screen.

Hey, how's the room? Hope you're getting some rest. Tonight's gonna be fun!

I quickly typed back, keeping it casual.

It's amazing. Thank you for everything. I'm still in shock, honestly.

The three dots popped up almost instantly as he typed back.

I bet. Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. Let me know if you need anything.

I smiled at the phone, my heart still fluttering at how sweet he was. Even though we'd shared a kiss last night, this felt different. Like there was something more to it, but I wasn't ready to ask him about it just yet. I didn't want to ruin the magic of it all.

Cat, of course, was glued to her phone too, waiting for a message from Nicholas, but she was also bouncing off the walls with excitement. "Do you think we'll see them again tonight?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I'm pretty sure," I said, trying to contain my own nervous energy. "Jungkook said something about going to a club tonight. And from what I gathered, they do this a lot while they're in Korea. So... yeah, we're probably going to run into them again."

Cat practically jumped up and down. "Are you sure we're even real right now? I mean, a club with BTS and &TEAM? I still feel like I'm dreaming."

"You and me both," I laughed. "But here we are."

⸻

Later that evening, we met up with the guys in the hotel lobby. This time, the vibe was more relaxed. Jungkook was there, looking effortlessly cool as usual, but there was something different about the way he was looking at me tonight. His eyes held a deeper warmth, and I couldn't tell if it was the lingering buzz from last night's kiss or just the undeniable chemistry between us. Either way, I was nervous, but in the best way.

Nicholas was also there, looking incredibly sharp in a black leather jacket, his usual charming smile on full display. Cat's face lit up as soon as she saw him, and I couldn't help but laugh at how smitten she looked. The two of them had such an easy connection, and even though I could tell she was still processing everything, she was happier than I'd ever seen her.

"We're gonna have so much fun tonight," Jungkook said, his voice laced with excitement as he turned to us. "You girls ready to experience Seoul nightlife?"

"Honestly, I don't think we're ever going to recover from this," I said with a grin, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were about to head to a club with them.

Jungkook laughed. "Well, I hope you're ready for a night you won't forget. Let's go."

⸻

The club was everything I imagined and more—packed with people, neon lights casting colorful glows over the crowd, the thumping bass vibrating through the floor. As we walked in, it was like stepping into a whole new world. The guys were used to the attention, walking with an air of confidence that only stars like them could pull off. But even so, I could tell they were genuinely enjoying themselves.

As the night went on, I couldn't shake the way Jungkook kept looking at me. It was like there was this unspoken connection between us. We'd shared so much last night—our first kiss, the lingering tension—but tonight, it felt different. Like there was something more than just the physical attraction.

Cat and Nicholas seemed to be in their own world, deep in conversation, and I couldn't help but smile at how easy and comfortable they were with each other. Nicholas was making her laugh, his attention fully on her, and I was happy to see her so relaxed.

Meanwhile, Jungkook and I stayed close, a subtle tension hanging between us. I could feel his eyes on me often, but neither of us spoke about it directly. It was like we were dancing around the truth, unsure of what it meant but unable to ignore it.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked me softly, his voice barely audible over the music.

I nodded, my heart skipping a beat. "Yeah. Just... this feels unreal."

He chuckled, his lips curving into a small smile. "It's crazy, huh? I didn't expect any of this either. But I'm glad you're here."

We stood together, letting the music wash over us, neither of us saying much but the weight of everything hanging in the air. I wasn't sure what was coming next, but I could tell we were both feeling it. The chemistry, the connection, the unspoken pull. It was hard to ignore.

As the night went on, I noticed Jungkook had been getting a bit closer, his hand brushing against mine a few times. I didn't pull away, letting the moment linger, unsure of what was going to happen but too drawn to him to stop it.

Eventually, the club started to quiet down, the energy shifting as people began to head out. Jungkook looked at me, his expression unreadable but intense.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, his voice low. "I want to talk to you about something."

Without another word, I followed him, my heart racing as I tried to keep my cool. What was he about to talk to me about? Was this just another part of the whirlwind we were in, or was it something more?

As we left the club behind, the cool night air hit me immediately, refreshing and almost calming after the chaotic energy of the club. Jungkook and I walked side by side in a comfortable silence, the weight of the night slowly settling between us. Despite everything that had happened—the kiss, the moments shared—I could feel an underlying tension that wasn't there before. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but something about the way Jungkook was carrying himself made me uneasy.

We reached a secluded area near a quieter part of the city, an alley with a view of the sparkling skyline in the distance. It was private enough for us to speak freely without being interrupted. Jungkook stopped and turned to face me, his expression a little more serious than before. His usual confidence was replaced with a subtle vulnerability, and I couldn't help but notice how his brow was furrowed.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. "I... need to talk to you about something," he started, his voice steady but with a hint of hesitation.

My heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking at me—almost guarded, as if preparing for something heavy—immediately made me nervous. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, my voice matching the seriousness of the moment.

Jungkook took a deep breath and glanced around, making sure no one was near. "Look, I—" He stopped himself, clearly trying to find the right words. "I know this might sound weird, but I have to bring it up. It's something that's mandatory, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to hide anything from you."

I blinked, my confusion growing. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated again, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity I hadn't seen before. "My company... they require that anyone I get close to, anyone I spend time with—like, intimately—has to sign an NDA."

An NDA? The words felt like a punch to my gut. My mind immediately raced through the possible implications of what that meant. "An NDA?" I repeated, my voice quieter now, trying to digest it all.

He nodded, his expression tightening as if he wasn't sure how to say the rest. "Yeah. It's... it's to protect us, protect the company. The public and the media, they—" He paused, looking like he was trying to find the right way to explain something that seemed almost foreign to him. "Fan culture can get toxic, especially in Korea. People can get obsessed. It's crazy. And I know true ARMYs, the real fans, are different, but my company doesn't take any chances."

I swallowed, the weight of his words hitting me harder than I expected. I wasn't naive—I'd seen the stories, the way fans could cross boundaries, especially in the K-pop world. But hearing it from Jungkook, hearing that this was something he had to do for his own safety, made me realize just how real the situation was.

Jungkook took a step closer, his eyes softer now, though the tension was still there. "I'm not saying I want to rush into anything or make things complicated. But I need to know if you're okay with that... if you can handle it." His voice dropped, just a little quieter, a hint of uncertainty creeping in. "I need to know if you want to keep seeing me, despite everything. Because if this goes public... it could cause problems for both of us. And I won't blame you if you don't want to deal with it."

His words hit me harder than I anticipated. A mix of emotions swirled in my chest—shock, understanding, a little sadness. I had already felt the pull of something real between us, something beyond just a one-night thing. But knowing how complicated things could get, how much he was risking just by being with me, made everything feel more fragile.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. I'd never been one to shy away from difficult situations, and I wasn't about to let this one scare me off. "Jungkook..." I started, my voice steady despite the million thoughts racing through my mind. "I get it. And I'm not here to make your life harder or more complicated. I know what fan culture is like. But I also know what I feel, and I'm not going to back out of this just because it's messy."

Jungkook's gaze softened, and I could see the relief in his eyes. He stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel his warmth against me. "You're serious?"

I nodded, my eyes holding his. "Yeah. I'm serious. We're not doing anything wrong, and I'm not going to let anyone tell me how to feel about you. If that means signing an NDA to protect us, then I'll do it. But I need you to know, I'm not here for the fame. I'm here for you."

His hand reached out, gently touching my cheek as if trying to make sure I wasn't some sort of illusion. His fingers traced the curve of my face, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're incredible, Y/N."

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, slow kiss. The kiss was gentle at first, almost like he was testing the waters again, making sure I was still there, still real.

When he pulled away, there was a lingering moment of silence, both of us taking in what had just happened. Jungkook's voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. "So, you're really okay with this? With everything? With me?"

I met his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest as I answered. "I'm okay with you, Jungkook. Just you."

The tension that had been weighing on us seemed to dissipate then, the air lighter between us. Even with everything that came with being close to him, even with the complications ahead, there was still something undeniable between us. And as crazy as it was, as overwhelming as it felt, I knew I was willing to take that next step.

As Jungkook and I reentered the club, the vibrant energy of the scene immediately enveloped us again. The sounds of the music and laughter filled the air, but it felt like a different world now. What had just happened outside lingered in my mind, both exhilarating and unsettling. I could feel the subtle shift between us—like a new layer had been added to our connection, something deeper, something unspoken.

The members of BTS were scattered around the club, still mingling, their laughter and chatter carrying over to where Jungkook and I stood. The bright lights, the thumping bass, everything that once felt so exciting now felt distant. I glanced up at him, his hand still holding mine, and he gave me a soft, almost shy smile in return.

"Everything okay?" I asked quietly, feeling like there was more he wanted to say but wasn't sure how.

Jungkook's gaze flickered around the club before he met my eyes again, a small nod answering my question. "Yeah. I'm glad we talked. I just... I'm not used to being so upfront like that."

I couldn't help but smile, understanding his discomfort. "I'm not used to it either. But I'm glad you were honest with me. I want to be part of this, Jungkook. You don't have to worry about me."

He squeezed my hand slightly, his lips curving into that signature smile that made my heart skip a beat. "Good. That's... really good."

The two of us walked back toward the others, my hand still in his, the atmosphere between us now a quiet bubble of warmth and unspoken understanding.

As we rejoined the group, Jimin shot a knowing glance my way, his mischievous grin hinting at the playful energy in the air. "You two finally come up for air?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

I rolled my eyes, but the flush on my cheeks betrayed me. "It's not like that," I said, trying to sound casual but failing.

"Oh, I think it totally is," Taehyung chimed in, winking at me. "You've got that glow, Y/N."

"Yeah, you do," RM added, his eyes scanning Jungkook and me with a knowing smile. "You two look good together."

Jungkook just laughed, clearly not used to this teasing but still looking at me with that soft smile. "Stop it, guys. We were just talking."

I chuckled at the banter, trying to keep the attention off us. "Just talking," I echoed, feeling my heart race all over again as I realized how much more this night had turned into something special.

After a few more minutes of mingling, Jungkook and I eventually found ourselves stepping aside again, the noise and flashing lights of the club still in full force but now quieter in my mind. He leaned in a little closer, his voice softer than before.

"Hey," he started, pausing for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. "You're sure you're okay with all this? I know it's a lot. The NDA, the secrecy... everything."

I glanced up at him, feeling the sincerity in his words. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't okay with it," I replied with a small smile. "And honestly, I trust you."

Jungkook seemed to relax a little at my response, his gaze softening. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear with the gentleness I hadn't expected. The touch sent a wave of warmth rushing through me, and I suddenly found myself hoping that this wasn't just another fleeting moment.

We both stood there for a few more moments, just taking in the night, before his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it quickly before looking back at me, his expression shifting.

"I have to head back to the guys. I'll catch up with you in a bit?"

I nodded, feeling a little bittersweet. The night had been a whirlwind, and I knew things were about to get even more complicated. But I couldn't deny how real everything felt now.

"Yeah, of course," I said, giving him a small smile. "I'll be around."

Jungkook gave me one last lingering look before walking back toward the group, leaving me standing there with a quiet excitement bubbling in my chest. This night had taken an unexpected turn, and I was still trying to process everything that had happened. But one thing was certain—whatever happened next, I was ready for it.

I slipped my phone out of my pocket, my fingers a little unsteady from the buzz of alcohol swirling inside me. With the night stretching on and the overwhelming newness of everything around me, I felt the need to check in with Cat, making sure she was doing okay. It was hard to focus fully on the scene around me with everything that had just happened between Jungkook and me, but my concern for my best friend outweighed everything else.

I quickly opened my messages and shot her a text: "Hey, you good? I didn't see you once I got back inside the club. I checked your location, and you're still here—just wanted to make sure you're okay."

I stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for the three little dots to show up. They never did. A part of me was still a little rattled from the conversation with Jungkook, but I tried to push it aside, focusing on my best friend and making sure she was safe. I figured she was probably in her own world, enjoying her time with Nicholas, but it didn't hurt to check.

A quick glance around the club showed the lights and the music still going strong, but something about it felt a little quieter now. My head buzzed with a mix of the alcohol and my own emotions, trying to process everything that had unfolded tonight. So, I walked over to the bar, feeling the familiar weight of my body working through the effects of the alcohol. I ordered a round of shots of soju to help ease my nerves, taking each one back quickly and efficiently.

I didn't feel quite drunk yet, but I was definitely buzzing, the warmth pooling in my chest with every shot. Just as I placed my empty glass down on the bar, Jungkook appeared next to me, his face a little softer now than when I'd last seen him. He ordered a highball, and I gave him a small smile as I leaned back against the bar.

"You drink anything other than soju?" I asked, my voice a little playful but still edged with a slight slur. The conversation from outside the club was still fresh in my mind, and I could feel the awkwardness between us start to fade with every sip of alcohol.

Jungkook glanced over at me, his lips curling slightly in a smile. "I actually don't drink soju much," he said casually, taking a sip from his drink as it arrived. "I prefer highballs. The carbonation and a little whiskey—it's simple, but I like it."

I chuckled, the sound airy and light. "Funny. I started drinking highballs because of you." I glanced up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. "Saw you drink them a few times during interviews, and I thought it looked cool."

He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly surprised, but his smile grew. "You've been watching me that closely?" He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, like he was teasing but also genuinely curious. "I guess that makes us even. You're my first fan I've ever shared a drink with. I didn't think I'd ever find myself in a bar with someone like you."

The comment had me chuckling, a nervous giggle escaping from me. I felt strangely self-conscious, but also kind of lighthearted. "It's kind of wild, right? I mean, I'm standing here with Jungkook of BTS, having drinks, having this conversation..." I gestured around, my hand slightly unsteady, as I took another shot. "This definitely isn't something I ever thought would happen."

Jungkook laughed softly, the sound warm and easy, and he gave me a relaxed look as he took another sip of his highball. "Yeah, I get that. I've been trying to wrap my head around it too." His gaze softened slightly, his expression serious for just a moment. "But honestly, it's nice. I didn't expect this kind of connection tonight... with you."

I didn't know exactly what to say. The whole night had been a whirlwind, and now, standing there with Jungkook, the alcohol wasn't just making me feel buzzed—it was making everything feel a little bit more real, more intense.

Before I could respond, the sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket made me jump slightly. I pulled it out, hoping it was Cat's response, and saw that she had finally texted me back.

"I'm okay, just talking to Nicholas. I'm with him and the guys for a bit, but thanks for checking in. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me 😊"

I let out a soft sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at my lips. At least she was okay, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. I tucked my phone back into my pocket, turning my attention back to Jungkook, who was still watching me, a small, curious smile on his lips.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. "You look like you're deep in thought."

I nodded, feeling the weight of everything start to settle in. "Yeah... just thinking about how insane all of this is," I said, my words coming out a little slower now as the alcohol took effect. "How fast it's all moving... I don't even know what to think."

Jungkook took another drink from his highball, his eyes softening as he watched me, almost like he was studying me. "I know what you mean," he said quietly. "But right now, I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad I'm with you."

For a moment, everything else faded away. It was just me and Jungkook, standing at the bar, the club's noise a distant hum. It was strange, how everything felt so right but at the same time so confusing. But for the first time tonight, I didn't feel as uncertain.

It wasn't a dream anymore. Jungkook was real, and so was the connection between us.

"Me too," I said softly, giving him a small smile that felt genuine. "Me too."

The atmosphere in the club was intoxicating, the music vibrating through my body, pushing all thoughts of anything else out of my head. I had been drinking and dancing for hours now, and the buzz was starting to hit—my body warming with the rhythm, the lights flashing across my face, turning everything into a dreamy blur.

Jungkook was standing close to me, his hand on my waist, his movements smooth as he followed my steps. The way he danced was so effortless, like he'd done this a thousand times, but tonight, it felt different. The way his body was pressed against mine, the heat between us was undeniable, and every slight touch or glance seemed to send an electric charge through me.

The music was slower now, a sensual beat that wrapped around us both, pulling us into a rhythm that felt more intimate than anything I had experienced before. Our bodies moved in sync—hips swaying, hands lightly grazing—tension building with each passing second. The alcohol in my system made everything feel even more electric, the world fading away as I got lost in the moment with him.

His fingers gently brushed the back of my neck as he pulled me closer, and I could feel his breath warm against my ear. It was like the whole club had disappeared, leaving just the two of us in this private little bubble.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" he teased in my ear, his voice low, sending a shiver down my spine. His words were playful, but I could feel the hint of something deeper in them, the unspoken words lingering between us both.

smirked, meeting his gaze. "You're the one keeping up, Jungkook. I thought I'd have to show you how it's done."

A chuckle escaped his lips, and his fingers tightened on my waist. He spun me, the sudden movement catching me off guard as he pulled me back in, my chest colliding with his. His arms wrapped around me tightly, bringing me even closer, and I could feel his heart beating just as fast as mine.

The music thumped in my chest, the beat matching my pulse, and we were both so lost in the moment, in each other, that nothing else seemed to matter.

Minutes—or maybe hours—later, the song ended, and Jungkook pulled away just enough to look at me, his face flushed from the dance. His expression was hard to read, a mix of something playful and something deeper, something more vulnerable.

"Let's get some air," he said, his voice slightly breathless.

I nodded, my heart still racing as he led me to one of the private lounges in the club. The lounge was dimly lit, the plush sofas offering a comfortable escape from the pulsing energy of the dance floor. I sank into one of the seats, my head spinning with the combination of the alcohol and the chemistry crackling between us.

A few moments later, the sound of footsteps entering the lounge signaled the arrival of the rest of BTS. They were in high spirits, laughing, teasing each other, and making their way to the karaoke machine in the corner.

"Let's sing," Jin suggested with a grin, his eyes scanning the room. "Come on, Jungkook, you've got to join us!"

Jungkook glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow. "You in?" he asked, his voice a little softer now, still carrying that playful edge.

I shrugged, feeling the liquid courage coursing through me. "I'm always up for a little karaoke. But don't expect me to be as good as you guys."

The group gathered around, the sound of the karaoke machine starting up as one of the guys picked a song. The room was filled with laughter and casual conversation as we all waited our turn, but as soon as the music started, it was clear this wasn't just some fun casual activity. It was intense, intimate—everyone getting into it, letting go.

When my turn came, I barely hesitated, grabbing the microphone with a grin. I picked a song—Somebody—Jungkook's own solo. The guys were already talking amongst themselves, not expecting much from me as I slurred the first few words, but once I hit the chorus, something shifted.

I didn't know what it was—maybe it was the drink in my system or just the way the song felt in that moment—but I started singing, hitting every note perfectly, every high note with ease. My voice filled the room, smooth and controlled, and it was like the entire atmosphere shifted. Jungkook froze, his eyes locked on me, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

The guys all stared at me, their expressions a mix of shock and admiration. I hit the same notes Jungkook effortlessly sang, each one flowing from my mouth like I had been doing this for years.

When the song finished, there was a stunned silence. The room was still for a beat, before Jungkook laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You've got a beautiful voice," he said, voice hushed, like he couldn't quite process what just happened. "I'm... impressed."

I grinned, feeling a little embarrassed but proud at the same time. "It's nothing. I only sing in the shower or after a few drinks," I admitted humbly, shrugging like it was no big deal.

But Jungkook couldn't stop looking at me. The other guys started clapping, clearly impressed by my talent, but it was Jungkook's gaze that lingered on me the longest. There was something in his eyes—admiration, maybe even awe—that I couldn't ignore. He was definitely more than impressed.

And I was pretty sure I was starting to fall a little harder for him... but I didn't want to admit it yet. Not here, not now.

[nocturnal-desolation]

Hello sorry for tagging. I am very sick, my asthma is at its maximum level, my nose freezes, I have no medicine or food. I am in bad shape financially, I am a black disabled, who uses multiple medications, I pay for my food and lodging

Unfortunately I do not have all the resources to keep me safe, that is why I need your help, whatever you can contribute to me will be of great help.

Would you look at that… I have a prime example of how to spot a scam in my asks. It's not very well done, just well enough that some people might fall for it - and some have even reblogged it. You've been redirected to the Fraud Detection Unit, which will take it from here. (actually it's still just me, I'm the fraud detection unit, we have "Fachkräftemangel" in Germany, sorry, jk)

Seriously though… First of all, I'd like to address the fact that it's incredibly sad to play with people's emotions like this. You should be ashamed of yourself, but I'm sure you're not. It's the same with scams asking for help and donations for people and families in Gaza, which has come up a lot recently and is even more despicable because there are actual fundraisers going on (which are official) and these people are in a terrible situation. So to exploit that worldwide sympathy or solidarity and use the inhumane circumstances of these or other people for your scams is disgusting to the core.

But back to this particular ask and blog… The text itself makes no sense. Like, not at all. For example, a " freezing nose" is not a typical symptom of asthma. I've never had asthma, but I'm pretty sure your nose doesn't freeze up when you have asthma. What are you trying to tell me? That you got asthma in the middle of a blizzard? Sorry, I can't help you with that. "Get out of the blizzard!" is all I can tell you. And what is the "maximum level" of asthma? Is that some kind of asthma end boss? Sounds more like you need an ambulance, not money...

That's why it's important to be fluent in English if you want to pretend to be a native speaker. I can't help you there either. I can barely speak my own language, let alone English.

Some other things everyone should notice or look for when getting messages like this:

blog was created fairly recently, no consistency, just reblogged some random things (like posts from 'tumblr staff' lol - no offense) to have something on it at all + obviously otherwise empty blogs that are just begging for money or reblogging other similar posts all the time are even more suspicious

something I haven't seen before either is "Black Lives Matter" being used as bait to appeal to those involved in the movement

randomly generated usernames (what is "toosaladgarden"? I've never had a salad that was too garden, so I don't know - not too important, but in this case it doesn't help to be convincing)

no bio, no age, no country (usually not important, but in this case it is)

non-transparent fundraiser, no one knows why this exact amount of money is needed (I think it even went from $1700 to $1900 since yesterday if I saw that correctly lol) and how the supposed current donations came about (you could put any number in there)

randomly contacted

scammers often use tactics such as emotional manipulation and urgency to evoke sympathy and to prompt a quick response

lack of details, very vague in general, limited information about specific circumstances

But that made me curious and I wanted to know more. You (the scammers) were "smart" enough to use a profile picture that can't be easily traced back to the original source, I'll give you that. But that's a problem for you, because it seems to be the only picture you have of this person with this child, so you had to use it everywhere…

And that's why I was able to trace your picture back to a Twitter / X account that goes by the name "Aska" and the handle askafarao… which also engages in very, very obviously fraudulent requests for money. Every few days or weeks since August 2023, this "X" account posts nothing but new "reasons" why the money is needed. And it's quite funny how little effort they put into it, because the reasons are not creative and half of them don't even add up. But most importantly, somehow there are a couple of different email addresses for different paypal accounts with different names on them. I think we can all agree that unless you're trying to hide something, you don't need more than one name… right? Unless Paypal is going to close your accounts all the time, or you're afraid they will because they're detecting fraudulent activity, you don't need more than one account, right?

TL:DR Let's make this part short and sweet: If you get a message like this, or see a similar post, be aware that it's a scam. Don't reblog it and don't be like, "But what if it's true…" It's obviously not, and when I saw the X account, I actually had a good laugh because this account is a complete mess, even for a scammer.

[sygni]

colouring tutorial from sygni aka sima

DISCLAIMER 1. eng is not my native language 2. i am using techniques of a realistic art so it's not for everyone! but you may find some tips interesting tho

big text screamer

so obv 1. making our sketch (and after lineart if you're using it bc im not) 2. filling up background, then character. think about what atmosphere you want to create in result, try to use different background colours for your characters for diff effects in result. i've had a small post with a little explaining for choosing colours, you can use that too! i suppose i can make a post about emotional effects of different colours if someone interested bc that's really a HUGE part of final effect on viever. actually i can tell and explain in art so much feel free to send questions <:D so like that! (tbx i changed it like 3 times so it's okay to change your colouring desigions mid-drawing if you're feeling something feels off)

3. time to get some basic shading going! don't skip that step i swear to god you can think bruh sima for what do you they added overlays that i can use after i finish the art? are you a caveman or what please just trust me it'll add so much charm in your art so how to do it: 1. choose where your light sourse is. on my art it's in front of griande 2. use a CONTRASTING colour for each big part of a character (hair, clothes, face etc) and make shades with that. REMEMBER dark colours going next to light ones, light to dark. please don't use black for shades for god's sake. also shades are cold coloured most of the time thats important too ig 3. if you're confused where you shall place shades then find a ref or make a photo of yourself OR use a mirror (preferable!) and this things can help you understand face shading better too \/

don't feel not good enough that you need to study sth or use refs it's fully okay every good artist using that!

so i know this looks like mess BUT what did i do (guys trust the process): 1. desided i want a face to be a centre of viewer's attention so made everything else darker 2. put a light on a face, the most light shade on the parts which are closer to light sourse - at my art it's nose and a bit of forehead. and exact same thing but backwards with eyes remember face isn't flat! so even if forehead is in the light, it slowly goes back, so it won't be light all the way (you can see it on previous photo of the gypseous head)

then the longest part goes: we're using semitones (colour which are simmilar to base shade) to connect shades to light parts, to add volume to the art make sure your brush moves according to .. ehh.. face shape? just take someone and weirdly touch their face to understand how it goes and with your brush cope that example (look closely to the strokes):

so i've did something

i know this looks like "let's add some details" type of thing but: i've added semitones to the shadows to correct their forms -> to suit the relief of the face added a contrasting (to pink of the base) orange as blush, a dark blue to show the farthest spots from light added a basic reflects on the sides of the noce (orange spots), chin (peach). reflections on things are sooo important and add so much life in your art! yet it's easily done: you just create a little light blended line on the bottom of your shade. if next to thing you're making a reflection on is the diff-coloured thing, then pick a colour from it and mix them. example \/

made an edge on a forehead (dark-red line) yet i'd make it more accurate later, and will add it on the chin and sides of the nose to highlight them and separate from other parts of the face. actually this edges are just the darkest spots between the light of the item and reflection on the bottom of it. i like to make it noticible, yet someone tend to blend shades in. if you're just studying how to shade i'd reccomend starting without using blending yet you can notice how colours going more dull from forehead to chin to make her look like she's angling her head forward, i guess i'll make it more noticible later

AND i'm going to sleep but i have more to tell + i need to finish the work later anyway so put some feedback for part 2

[patolemus]

part 2 of Red Hoodies!! 🩵

ooooh I knew you'd be curious about this one. I still have so many ideas on how to make it come to life and haven't decided which storyline I'm going for, but I do know I have at least two scenes I need to write. There's going to be an expansion on Stiles' relationship with Artemis, which I briefly mentioned during red hoodies, and also how Stiles and Athena's relationship is tested during HoO (so how he reacts to Athena giving the quest to Annabeth and not him, and why she does that. It's all very emotional tbh). It's also going to be featuring Marcus, Stiles' allegedly werewolf roommate!

Here's the first 500 words just for you, my love! Just... don't expect many of these because there's not a lot more to choose from. As in, there's nothing else to choose from. It's literally this and two half written scenes (I'm so sorry)

Something’s humming in the back of his head.

Stiles tries his best to ignore it, just as he’s been doing for the past two days, back when the noise first started. He tries to focus on the essay for his social sciences core requirement class, but it’s hard to think about the sociological and cultural impacts of Ancient Greece in modern times - which is definitely not what the essay is supposed to be about, but ask Stiles if he gives a shit - when you feel like your brain is being used as a speaker at full volume.

Stiles checks the time on the clock on his desk. 3:27 AM. Groaning, he rubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to get some focus back. Marcus still isn’t back, not that Stiles expected him to be. The guy can barely stand to be in the same room as him most of the time. He’s pretty sure he’s taken all late classes this semester so he can sleep while Stiles is in class all morning and disappear the rest of the day.

He really should make time to sit him down and explain everything to him, lest he transfers out altogether. Stiles would feel awfully bad if he were to drive someone out of college because of a misunderstanding, of all things. Miscommunication is only entertaining in books, and only when it’s comical. 

This isn’t comical, it’s bordering on tragic.

Stiles makes a mental note to corner his roomate sometime soon, then goes back to his essay.

“The presence and influence of Ancient Greece can be spotted throughout most western cultures…” he trails off. Stiles reads the last words he’s written on his word document at least five more times, trying to remember where he was going with this point. He’s pretty sure it had something to do with symbology.

The humming doesn’t stop.

His phone screen lights up, startling him. Stiles barely even uses the thing when out of Beacon Hills, not wanting to attract monsters, so he only keeps it on him for emergencies. He plans on ignoring it, but the thing lights up again, and again, and again, a slew of messages coming in in rapid succession.

Curiosity and anxiety piqued, Stiles picks it up. There are six messages from Scott, two from Allison, another two from Isaac, four from Lydia, one from Jackson, seven from Erica, three from Boyd, five from Peter - which is what’s alarming him the most, if he’s honest, Peter never texts, he calls and sends letters like the pretentious little douchebag he is - and a whooping seventeen from Derek.

Okay, then.

It doesn’t surprise him that they’re all together. They’re all attending colleges in-state, and apart from him, only Jackson and Lydia decided on somewhere other than the county's Community College. Jackson is back for the next few days because of the full moon, and Lydia probably decided to come with. Because that’s a luxury she can take. She’s that smart.

With no small amount of trepidation, because this can only ever mean trouble for him, Stiles opens up his chat with Derek. Most people wouldn’t think they’ve been together for years if they saw the conversation thread, because they barely even talk there. The last message before tonight is from a month ago, before Stiles came back to school for the new semester. He mostly communicates from his laptop, a gift from Daedalus, which makes it untraceable for monsters. Also, it has a satellite internet connection, which comes pretty handy when someone in his dorm building gets ideas and ends up cutting the whole building’s electricity.

Fucking wannabe frat boys.

And here's a real life screenshot of what comes immediately after. Again, I'm so sorry.

[vryivs]

fanfic writer interview

thank you @tiesanjiaoshenanigans

How many works do you have on AO3? 52

What's your total AO3 word count? 571, 768

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Tangerine, Macaron (seongjoong)

the dirt that you're made of (yanqing)

恋の予感 (the longest path to us) (seongjoong)

If I Can Leave One Memory (sansang)

the stars are here (seongjoong)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? yes!! i usually go through my comments right before i upload a new fic or chapter, just because that's easiest

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? god um ok. one sec. it's definitely 白镜 - White Mirror. tragic lesbians... most of what i write has a happy or at least ambiguous ending but this one follows canon so it's a tragedy instead

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? oh man! tbh it's probably 恋の予感 (the longest path to us) again. although nearly everything i write ends happy

Do you write crossovers? not rlly... they just don't appeal to me that much so I've never written them. i dont read them either

Have you ever received hate on a fic? nope! considering how long ive been writing it honestly kind of surprises me--its not even like i write particularly safe stuff either. i figure that maybe its because so much of my work is so personal that a people tend to maintain good etiquette and dont talk shit directly to me

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes. the cinematic kind lol. last time i wrote something explicit was fine, but i much prefer writing smut in a more literary style? not sure if that makes sense. the writing equivalent of close shots and fancy camera angles and lens flare, although that doesnt mean that i cant be crass when i want

Have you ever had a fic stolen? i dont think so, but its not like i check

Have you ever had a fic translated? nop! someday i want to get good enough to translate my own hsr work into chinese just bc so much of what i write is influenced by reading and learning about chinese culture and linguistic quirks, but that wont be any time soon

Have you ever co-written a fic before? yes!! several actually. lonely 'til you hold me was a collab with a pinch hitter for the event it was for. then i also wrote on my old account Accursed Spawn with @shineoftherainbow which to this day i am obsessed with

What's your all-time favorite ship? oh man... i am fickle and my tastes change by the week, but i think i will always have a soft spot for einsla, even if i dont write them much

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? never say never but probably the seongjoong royalty au. i had it planned and everything but then people started discoursing around eden and the planned ending i wrote was potentially too topical, so i waited and then i lost steam.

What are your writing strengths? flow i think? ive always been pretty good at keeping things moving at a good pace. i edit myself a lot (and practice editing on some actual published books too!) so its become second nature to chop and change and move things around.

What are your writing weaknesses? actually writing. just kidding. probably that when i get stuck on something i tend to focus only on the fact that im stuck and cannot continue until i have unstuck myself

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? depends on what is meant my this! if it's about honorifics in dialogue (eg, hyung, -chan, dajie etc) i support it, since a lot don't translate well to english. Same with terms of endearment like -ito and -ie. if it's whole dialogue, it really depends. am i supposed to be able to understand the dialogue? is it something that could've been written just as well with 'he says, in [language]', does the author understand what they're writing, is it a text based or verbal conversation? does the pov character understand what's being said? (personally the best way to have dialogue in other languages is if the pov character isn't supposed to understand it. but always be aware that a native speaker of that language may still read the fic)

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? kiamei! i love my lesbian mothers.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

白镜 - White Mirror. lets go lesbians! i really enjoyed writing in this style

tagging: @shineoftherainbow @himbodevotee @nicenightmare13 @morifiinwe @marichild @linhuine

[rallamajoop]

Lab Photos and Documents from Resident Evils 7 & 8

Near the end of both Resis 7 and 8, the player character gets to explore a laboratory full of significant documents and interesting photos, textured and angled such that it’s very hard to get a good screencap. So here’s a huge dump of all the relevant image assets I could find to extract from both game files (plus some rambling about everything that got recycled between them, because spot-the-reused-asset is still my favourite game right now).

Photos from Lucas' lab in Resident Evil 7

The photo of Mia with Eveline in front of the tanker can be found at the end of the Mia video tape, though it also shows up again in Lucas' other lab in the Not A Hero DLC. That DLC also throws in a few new photos of Lucas' creations.

And moving on a game...

Photos from Miranda's Lab in Resident Evil 8

(Apologies for the long post above the cut, but tumblr doesn't seem to let you tile images below a 'Read more', unfortunately.)

What’s interesting is that most do seem to be legitimate photos of the characters’ real-life face models, not just renders of their 3D game models. Whether the human models themselves posed for these or whether their likeness was simply photoshopped onto scenes composed without them I haven’t been able to find out (though the latter seems more likely to me, given that most face models don't even seem to have known what character their likeness would be used for). Either way, there’s an eerie realism to these that doesn’t occur in many other parts of the game, and it’s effective in its own uncanny way.

Since both games refer to the same research at the same lab, it's probably reasonable that some of RE8 photos are just slightly-adjusted copies of those from RE7 ‒ those two shots of Eveline in the lab most obviously. And we're probably just supposed to politely ignore how obviously Miranda's just been selectively edited into that original pic of Eveline with the scientists. *cough*

In fact, if you look closely, even that big group photo of Eveline with the research team and transport operatives has actually patched in both Mia and Eveline from that earlier photo of them standing in front of the tanker. In fact, Alan (Mia's partner in RE7) isn't even from a photo at all: that's a drawing from a piece concept art (no wonder they've got him standing at the back!) As a minor role who appeared in no photos in RE7, I assume they just didn't have any good shots of his face model available.

I'm a little suspicious even Miranda's face in the group shot has been edited in from one of her other photos, but the match isn't quite perfect enough for me to be sure.

Even that photo of the needle going into the egg and the developing foetus isn't new: you can see the same needle shot in some of the RE7 documents, and even the foetus development series gets an angled scan-over in the RE7 ending sequence.

Mind you, some of those "photos of Eveline" may actually not be Eveline herself ‒ text on them in the lab itself suggests they're photos of other members of the E-series, sacrificed during necrotoxin tests. Which makes it rather odd that the figure in the second photo is an adult man who looks nothing like Eveline, so I can only assume some wires got crossed somewhere in the dev team.

(Also odd: the suggestion that there were multiple E-series subjects, some of whom were put down for experimental purposes, even though Eveline herself is labeled E-001. But let's not pretend RE lore has ever been super-consistent at the best of times.)

RE8's "lab photos" also include a couple of shots of a man in snow gear who's apparently Spencer of Umbrella-fame, presumably for all those fans who don't feel it's a proper Resident Evil game if there's not an Umbrella in it somewhere. They're both about as rough as that one piece of concept art of Alan, so I'm guessing whoever created them was about as invested in that topic as I am.

Somewhat more interesting to me are the two shots of Miranda with babies. The second obvious Eveline, but the first is presumably of Miranda with Eva, way back in 1920 or so ‒ demonstrating nothing so much much as that in a full 100 years, Miranda hasn't even slightly changed how she does her eyebrows. /s

[lilmissasap]

boxer boy pt.2

warnings: swearing, use of the n word, grammarly edited, proofread, nun too serious

a/n: giggled while writing this

w/c: 2.1k ish

published: august 7, 2023

That Saturday, the air was brisk and slightly windy from the fire escape outside Kori’s bedroom where she and Lilac were doing homework

“So you met that guy right?” 

“Which guy? Can I use your sleeve, my uniform doesn’t clean my glasses right” 

“Blind-ass. Sure,” Lilac sighs,  rolling her eyes “That guy I was telling you about?” 

“Thanks,” Kori mumbles, pulling the spectacles off their nose “I mean, I met a guy, he’s cool I guess,”

“Yeah? What’s his name?” 

“Miles,” 

“What’s he look like?” 

“Don’t you have English homework to do?” 

“It’s just some stupid notes on some random-ass personal narrative we read in class.” she sighs “Tell me about this boy,” 

“Ion know shit about this boy, Lilac, all I know is he likes my shoes and knows Kendrick Lamar,”  they reply “Why does it matter?” 

“Because it’s a boyyyyyyy, you been all busy in them lil classrooms in shit,” 

“I ain't busy I’m focused, there's a difference” 

“Yeah whatever, do you think he’s cute?” 

“I dunno, I barely spoke to him,” 

“What? I bust my ass trying to find you a friend and you barely spoke to him,” 

“You literally just texted someone, calm down,” 

“Same thing, come on K dot, you know what I mean,” 

A sigh, then an eye roll. 

“Do your homework, Lilac,”

“You’re no fun,” 

Did Kori think Miles was attractive? It’s hard to tell, they just met for heaven's sake, what was it supposed to be a love-at-first-sight thing? He’s literally just a guy, Kori knows plenty of guys. 

“So, what about that girl, Kori?” 

“What about her?” 

Jakobi pointedly glares at Miles, popping his head out from behind the bag. 

“What?” 

“Miles, nigga, can you not be so hard-headed for once?”  

“What?” 

“Would you take a hint?” 

“I already told you, ain’t lookin for a girl,” 

“She doesn’t have to be your girl man, I’m just tryna get you out there,” 

Miles pauses and steps back from the bag swiveling his head to look at Jakobi. 

“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You been different since your dad man, I’m just trying to get you more Miles, bruh, that’s all. Nun too serious,” 

“Nigga–” 

“I get that the process is different for everybody, but come on your dad wouldn’t want you to be this fucked up about it for this long,” 

“Yeah, whatever,” 

“So? What’s Kori like?” 

“They’re aight I guess, cool shoes,” 

“Other than they shoes, bruh” 

“Nice hair I guess, you want the bag?” 

“Stop changing the subject, and yes I do,” 

The two briefly switch spots. 

“So?” 

“What?” 

“You want to get to know her at all or?” 

“I guess,” 

“That’s enough for me,” 

“Can you actually jab?” 

“Shut the fuck up,”  

The following Monday, the air was light and chilly while a snake of less than enthusiastic students make their way up to Visions Academy. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” 

“Hi, Miles.” Kori turns, pulling out their earbuds, “How was your weekend?” 

Falling into step beside her, Miles shrugs. 

“Aight I guess, training, and then homework, you?” 

“Training?” 

“Boxing,” 

“Oh tight, my grandfather used to watch old matches when I was little,” 

“You box?” 

They snort. Miles pauses, examining the air around the two of them, Kori’s face more specifically. How her nose turns up and how their mouth stubbornly contorts and twists up into a smile, how there's just barely a gap between her two front teeth. Not too serious for braces.

“Fuck no, ‘m not coordinated enough for that,” 

“Yeah? Doubt it,” 

“Fuck you mean ‘doubt it’?” 

“All I’m saying is I see what you be painting in AP art, that's not uncoordinated,” 

“Keeping tabs on me, Morales?” 

“You wish,” 

“Whatever,” 

Oh shit.  

“I’m just saying, what you be doing has to have some sort of coordination,” 

“Not really,” 

Miles raises his brow. 

“Girl, be for real wimme right now,” 

“I am being for real,” 

“So them lil characters you be painting, no coordination?” 

Was Miles looking at her paintings? 

“Nah,” 

“Girl that's bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” 

“I guess there's some coordination behind it, Ion think so though,” 

“So, who’s your favorite boxer?” 

“Adonis Creed?” 

It’s Miles’ turn to snort and Kori’s turn to observe. Miles had slight dimples on both sides of his face, and his braids traveled with him. Bright white teeth hidden behind a full pair of lips, but his bottom lip was bigger than the top lip. His nose crinkled slightly, but mostly from the side.  

Oh fuck.

“Are you for real?” 

“Partially,” 

“For real, though” 

“Tyson prolly, I’d say Ali, but that's cliché” 

“Them cats is intense,” 

Oh shit. 

“I guess, they’re good though,” 

“Yeah, they are,” 

“Where you transfer from?” 

“What?” 

“I mean, Ian seen you around here since last month,” 

“Maybe you jus aint look in the right places,” 

“I got eyes everywhere,” 

“Oscasio Charter in Brooklyn Heights,” 

“Oh no shit, my boy goes there,” 

“Small world,” 

“Hey, so–” 

The two get cut off by the warning bell. 

“See you in art,” 

“Uh, yeah, see you,” 

What the fuck just happened? 

Six hours later, Miles bounds down the stairs to the unusually full gym, meaning there were only two extra heads in the gym. But shit adds up. And, Kori was there? Alongside an unfamiliar face and Jakobi. The air in the gym was unusually stuffy and hung heavily in the air. 

“Aye, Ma–” 

“Jakobi, nigga get the fuck off Kori,” 

“Ain’t nobody say I was talking to her,” 

“Ion want your raggedy ass neither,” 

“Yeah, alright,” 

“Kori?” 

“Oh, hi,” 

“I thought you ain’t box,” 

“Lilac wanted to try it,” 

She waves from behind Kori. 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah,” 

“Miles!”  

“That’s Alexei, I’ll see you, Kori,” 

“Yeah, see you,” 

They turn around to a seemingly bursting Lilac. 

“Girl what was that?: 

“What was what?” 

“You’re so ridiculous,”  

“What?” 

“Nevermind,” 

“Okay, you tying your gloves wrong,” 

“Smartass,” 

Lilac was off, somewhere learning the ropes from that Jakobi guy and so Kori was off and alone. Too nervous to leave Lilac alone, because this was an all-guy gym, they decide to look around. With wide eyes, they ogle at everything within a two-foot radius. The gym smelled pungent, but what else was she to expect from a boxing gym damn near next to the sewers in Brooklyn? Lightly running her hand on the wall, she walked the perimeter observing, the wall was a mixture of cool and damp. She gently began to weave in between the rows and rows of bags, eyeing anything and anyone in sight. Anyone including Miles. He was good, with clean technique, power exuding from each and every jab he threw, gentle muscles jumping out from under his muscle tee, sweat dotting his forehead and collecting on his brow. Eyes level and focused, slightly narrowed. Focused and… a little beautiful, not that Kori would ever admit it. 

“You wanna try?” 

Kori snaps out of their trance. 

“Hm?” 

“Wanna try?” 

“Oh, uh, I probably shouldn’t” 

“Oh right,” He breathes “Uncoordinated,” 

“You have an excellent memory,” 

“Just one punch?” 

Kori rolls her eyes and laughs, slowly trekking over to the bag Miles was stationed at. 

“Ion even know how to throw one,” 

“It’s easy, come here,” He gently tugs at their wrist, “It’ll be fine.” 

Sidling up behind her, his breath tickles at her neck, hands resting on their waist.

“This okay?” He whispers in their ear, breath hot on their neck. 

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Miles,” 

“I know what I’m doing, now, put your legs shoulder width apart,” 

“Like this?” 

“Yeah, now bring your hand up and keep your elbows in,” His hands move to guide their arms, adjusting his head to rest on her shoulders. “And then extend your arm, but not all the way through, leave a little bend in your elbow,” He mumbles, guiding her arm forward so their knuckles lightly brush the leather of the bag

“Why aren’t I fully extending?” She whispers, breath lightly hitching in their throat.  

“So you don’t waste time trying to bring the fist back,” Miles tugs their arm back, gently leading her arm to their side again. 

“Oh,” 

“It’s about mostly about power, speed comes second,” He steps back, “Throw one again,” 

Throwing a gentle punch again, she complies and turns to look at him again, a smile dancing on their lips as she shoves their glasses up her nose. 

“Like that?” 

“Kinda, your recovery is a little on the slower side, but for a beginner, that was good,” 

“Told you,” she giggles stepping away from the bag. “Uncoordinated.”  

“Nah, you just need practice,” 

“Yeah, whatever, boxer boy,” 

“You’re a trip, Kori,” 

“I know.” They shrug “I got Astronomy homework, see you tomorrow Miles,” 

“Yeah, K dot, see you,” Miles replies, jogging backward and waving lightly.

“Lilac?” 

“GIRL–” 

“Tone it all the way down,” Kori yawns, rubbing their eyes, leaning back in her chair. 

“Whatever, what was that?” 

“My calculus homework, you interrupted it,” 

“Not that you nerd, at the gym earlier,” 

“What was what?” 

“Ugh, how thick skulled are you?” 

“Judging on your tone, very,” 

“Kori he likes you,” 

“Who?” 

“Oh my god, Miles,” 

“No, he doesn’t,” 

“I don’t think he teaches just anyone how to throw a punch, much less like that,” 

“Like what?” 

“All up behind you,” 

“Oh my god, it was nothing,” She knew full and well it wasn’t nothing. But Miles was just a boy. 

“Whatever, what’d your mom make tonight,” 

“I’m in the Visions dorms during the week,” 

“Ugh right.” She scoffs, “You think you can sneak out?” 

“Lilac,” 

“What?!?” 

Kori laughs, rolling her eyes. 

“I’ll see you later K dot,” 

“Bye Lilac, love you,” 

“Love you too, bye” 

And then Kori was alone, silence flooding the dorm as a gentle October breeze wheezes through the dorm. Again, she didn’t necessarily hate Visions, they just hated how it made her feel. Small, like, playground small. Sighing, they warily look out the window at the last sliver of sunset dancing over the buildings and streetlamps. Huffing and returning back to the last of her homework, they rest her head on her hand, back to solving calculus problems. 

Hours later, tying her braids into a scarf and lazily stuffing them into a bonnet, they lazily make their way to bed, rubbing their face and yawning. Flopping down onto the stiff Visions Academy mattress, she sighs and yawns staring at the ceiling, when there's an abrupt scream and a flash of purple outside her window. Stumbling across her dorm, tripping over stray textbooks, and sloppily driving her glasses up their nose, she presses against the window. 

“What?”   

Almost as if on cue, the flash of purple appears again dragging a semi-lifeless body behind it, tying it to a streetlight down the block from her dorm. The Prowler. Brooklyn’s finest vigilante, what seems like the only person looking out for the city, making it a little safer for everyone. Older women stayed out a little later, laughing on city buses, young children skipped rope on their stoops a little later each night, and Kori felt a little better, walking home from the bus stop.  

Adjusting herself to see a bit better, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck she fuses her face to the window, what was going on? Quickly and quietly sliding the window open, they lean out and bracing their arms on the windowsill, craning her head as far as humanly possible. The Prowler’s claws are extracted from his metal gauntlet in one quick motion, as he stands menacingly over the seemingly lifeless body, waiting for it to make a move. 

From down the street, another figure jogs up and joins him. The second figure is clad in a black zip-up hoodie and a ratty pair of sweatpants, face covered by a surgical mask. But those eyes, Kori has to have seen them before, intense and focused, narrowed in concentration. Where had she seen them? As the almost-familiar figure bounds up to the Prowler's side, Prowler speaks in a deep, almost demonic, warbled voice.

“Clean it up,” 

Instantaneously, Prowler's gone, speeding down the street on a purple motorbike. The hooded figure sizes up the body slumped in front of a streetlight, throws its head back, and sighs. Frantically looking both ways down the street to find not a soul lurking, the silhouette pushes back their hood. Those braids. She had to have seen them somewhere, two cornrows, tightly woven onto their scalp with a slight taper fade sharply dividing the skull from the nape of their neck. 

“Miles?” Kori whispers, pulling herself back into her dorm and shutting the window in haste.

Oh shit. 

taglist: @lunarfleur @mayeluvsu @kombuuuuuuu @nagi3seastorm @n1cole-ghost @milesmolasses @hearts4hobie @hummusxx

a/n: bounce concepts off me in asks/ leave reqs

🩷 reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

[terkaterr]

6 , 10 , 14 , 15 , 17 , 18 , 22 , 28 , 29 !!!!!!!!

I am biting you. with tongue.

6. What characters captured your heart?

well you know me I've loved the polygun quartet since day one (circa february 2023).... this year I wrote fics about some other trigun characters as well, but there's been what, 4 entire fics in Milly's pov???? your honor i LOVE her dearly!!!! but at the same time, vash is still just like me fr fr (derogatory) and I think I understand him even better neow not that I tortured him some more :}

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? (already answered, copying here)

oh If We Live for sure!! it's only 7 chapters but it took sooooooo long to finish.... and it's only an interlude to a grand post-canon ww lives idea I have that I hope to write..... some day.............. I'm not a fast writer alright but I'm really glad I finally finished that one and thus was freed. for now.................

14. What were your go-to writing songs?

TECHDOG by Patricia Taxxon. yes, all 12,6 hours of it. there's a good match for a wide range of emotion so I just listen to whatever part is fitting at the moment!!! not a song, but another great band for writing trimax trigun specifically is Disparition. can't explain it, they just Get It

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

honestly, none??? idk titles just come to me cause im their most special little fishe

17. Share your favorite opening line

How much can you fit under your skin? takes the 1st place with:

The bullet has made a home beside Wolfwood’s lower rib. Nice and snug in the meat of his side. Deep. Clearly, on the way to the exit it decided it felt just right as is. Bitch better be cozy, Wolfwood thinks maliciously.

18. Share your favorite ending line

this one was much harder to pick as i'm a sucker for a good ending line.... but I chose this one from Schrödinger's Lazarus as it carries so much punch:

It feels like more of a reminder to self, but he listens, even pulls my flesh hand closer to his chest in such a sentimental gesture it makes my heart ache. It strikes me that fate cheated me into seeing two things I wasn’t supposed to today: my death and his reaction. I bite the inside of my cheek and hold my lips tight so that no promises I can’t keep may slip through.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

I use Scrivener mostly! find it really handy both for outlining my big fic ideas and for writing oneshots. also I occasionaly use gdocs if i want to go the text by some friend before posting. i don't write by hand cause it just doesn't hit the same spot... also it's much slower and I'll need to transfer all that to typed text anyway so liek. doesn't work for me

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

all the beautiful beautiful people who comment on my fics I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER <3!!!!! !!<3!1!!!1<3!!<3!!!! also special shoutout to my bestie @hudshem who's been and continues to be my personal yes-man

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

I wanted to write and post a oneshot about ww and livio rebuilding the orphanage that would link If We Live with that au's later parts..... but unforch i barely started it....... here's to hoping I can finish it before spring

thank you frand!!!!!!! this was very fun

[og ask game link]