#i am so fucking profoundly happy

[ghoulishcreep]

.

[crimeronan]

probably i SHOULDN'T migrate elsewhere if tumblr goes belly-up. i just scrolled thru my dash for 20 minutes and in that short span i could feel myself transform from a mildly tired 27-year-old butch into an active serial killer.

[lastoneout]

I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.

We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.

The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.

Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.

And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.

As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.

Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth. 

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies. 

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.” 

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost. 

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place. 

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?” 

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead. 

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too. 

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[wellofdean]

Here's what sticks in my craw: why ON EARTH does fanon imagine that Cas has 'self-esteem issues' and experiences his love for Dean as a wet, miserable kind of yearning? What is it about any part of anything that happens on Supernatural makes anyone think that Cas, a cosmic, Eldritch being, a warrior of god, who literally hung the stars and has existed for a bazillion years, is reduced to teenage angst by Dean's pussy?

Like, when Cas says "the one thing I want I know I can't have" why do y'all think it's a piece of Dean's ass? Why does ANYONE think Cas doesn't know Dean loves him? Dean has shown Cas he loves him with literally everything he has again and again and again. Even the way Dean feels like Cas can absorb his anger is Dean showing Cas love and trust. Cas and Dean have chosen each other, forgiven each other, and been the only reliable thing in each others' lives over, and over and over again. Cas fucking knows that Dean loves him. Cas can literally hear Dean's thoughts, and feel his yearning. Cas was only saying the quiet part out loud when he said he loved Dean, because it was already obvious! If there was anyone feeling wet and lovesick, it would be DEAN, if he ever had a break in the battle to fucking feel things, which he did not.

Like, hear me out: what if the one thing Cas knows he can't have is the one thing he knows he signed over to the empty? His happiness, and by extension, Dean's, because he knows Dean loves him? What if Cas is saying: I know I can't have this thing I want for myself: to be the one to MAKE YOU HAPPY, but I can save you, and maybe Cas's belief in Dean is such that he still hopes and believes Dean will find a way to make himself happy if he lives.

After Cas's death, Dean is trying to live for him. Trying to be what Cas believed he was. It's what CANONICALLY gives Dean the strength to defeat Chuck by not killing him! And, after Dean's death, he CANONICALLY goes in search of happy endings. Like... THAT IS EXPLICITLY STATED.

I AM HAVING AN ALL CAPS MOMENT, SO SUE ME.

Guys, Cas is not a wet, yearning baby who needs Dean to say or do ANYTHING to validate his love. HE KNOWS. He is a being of unimaginable age and power. He is not beleaguered by self-esteem issues, or the need to tongue-wrestle Dean. Like, he might WANT TO, but he CANONICALLY does not need to in order to experience a happiness so complete that it puts paid to his deal. His happiness is THAT NOW DEAN ALSO KNOWS, and he can tell Dean why, and show him who he is in the mirror of that love.

Also, he is not dead, he is just on another plane of existence, and neither is Dean. Cas is a profoundly unselfish badass. He is not fucking PINING. He made a play, the best one he had. He is a strategist, and he knows Dean BY HEART.

[yannaryartside]

A REVIEW OF SYDNEY'S JOURNEY INSIDE SYDCARMY

As a person who profoundly yearns for sydcarmy, I would like to say…

Syd can love Carmy despite everything

But she cannot stay with him despite everything.

Not despite the problems in their relationship, not despite his inability to resolve his issues. And more importantly, not despite her own mental health, happiness, and dreams.

this is kind of an open letter to the writers of this show...because I have concerns of how they will rap this up, particularly for Sydney. It all got worse because of that Mattew interview.

PART 1:THE LOVE IN THE STRUGGLE

I understand what the show is doing with Carmy and Syd, showing the reality of loving someone with mental illness and (metaphorically) loving someone recovering from addiction. The struggle to do right by each other, coming from both sides, is excruciating and frustrating to watch, but it is beautiful (to a certain extent).

They are also playing into all of Carmy’s insecurities of never being good enough even when he tries his best. So what better way to heal that than showing Carmy that he was good enough for Sydney to love him despite him failing her (as a partner and friend). The love triangle thing is salt to injury until Carmy decides to stop ignoring all the ways Syd affects him. But that has to be in unison with him leaving behind all his bad coping mechanisms: the work addiction, the self-sabotage, and a toxic relationship.

I get it. But you have to show the other side of the coin. How can you love someone despite everything (despite how they hurt themselves and you) and still decide to do what’s right for you? To keep your side of the street clean, as the character in the anonymous meeting said.

Syd has been a punching bag (emotionally) for the majority of her screen time. Even her trying to discover her culinary voice in s2 was framed in the context of Carmy’s abandonment. I was pissed off after s2, but now I am baffled and angry.

Some time ago, I interacted in this fandom with someone who said Syd would be a prop for Carmen's growth; in all fairness, I think they meant a plot device. A character whose sole purpose in the narrative is to show the main character “the right way” (with a romantic relationship or not), like Gandalf or something. A character is never explored in depth and, therefore, absent of agency besides the elements of the character that favor the path of the main character.

I am not saying every element of Sydney's character has been crafted to favor Carmen. But the show has shown some intent of never giving her any agency besides sticking with these people in this broken system because she loves them all, Carmy especially.

I understand why Syd would choose to stay; she has found a place where she belongs, I just wish she didn't have to sacrifice a good opportunity to achieve her own creative vision, to have more financial security, and even her heart (now broken) in order stay at the Bear. Because that is the narrative, the show is feeding you. Do you want me to applaud her for being loyal despite letting go of all her dreams and sitting by a man who has rejected her in multiple ways just so she can prove she is the one? No, respectfully, fuck you.

If Syd is in love with Carmy despite everything, that's fine; that's just life, and you can do nothing about it. If she lets go of her chances to pursue her dreams waiting for him, that's on her.

Not to mention, this show crafted this character in a particular way. She is insecure about her talents, and despite having great people skills and exemplary leadership, she doesn't believe she can manage it all on her own, walking to the sound of her own drum and her will. I need that for her. That growth, just because it really feels like they have been building up to it. The character that never saw themselves in a leadership position but by doing it discover they are meant for it.

CALL YOUR HERO BY IT'S NAME

I also need her to have credit for everything, right there on the screen: the recognition, the opportunities, the adventure, and the self-exploration, the love.

Why are we trying to make peace with the fact that Sydcarmy may be open-ended? and (in that same context) that Syd's culinary success could also be open-ended, or just a brief plot point in this show that nominated Ayo as a "lead" in award shows?

Regardless of creative decisions, even if you want to make a show solely about closing bad chapters before opening the good ones, it could be done better. This is not a shipping or a fandom thing.

Sydney gets to be the peace (the real one), but that will never be acknowledged by the other characters and only firefly by the man she has loved for all the show's runtime? Why is it that the audience cannot explore/witness Carmy's desire for her? To see him dream of her and call her his actual peace? To pursue her and trying to be better, especially for her? Why does that only get to be a glimpse in your narrative? You already decided that was what you wanted for your main character, you could at least tell your audience that's what you want.

They spend a lot of time and energy deceiving us, but they have to put in (if not time) an equal amount of effort to show why Sydney is the right choice.

Also, why is that only the black woman, the one whose culinary journey we don't follow and explore? Particularly in her getting credit for it and feeling good about her chosen profession? Marcus got to go to Copenhagen, Ebra and Tina got culinary school, and the shows have followed them in their journey to gain confidence in this craft. We got a whole episode of Carmy's journey (and Luca's).

You have four young chefs that we follow so we can get a journey inside the paths in this industry: Luca, Carmy, Syd, and Marcus. Three of these young chef characters (the three men) had the opportunity to travel and have mentors who valued them and recognized their potential; what about Syd?

This point keeps pissing me off. When Matty Matheson decided to open his mouth to say, "Sydney doesn't have professional training," it hurt extra because I am sure some people were watching who, even if they watched the show, may doubt that he was incorrect.

Syd is the only restaurant member who actually went to culinary school. The fucking CIA. The only acknowledgment the audience has of her culinary experience is that line of dialogue of Carmy being impressed by her resume in the fucking pilot. Besides that, the only element of her journey being brought up in dialogue constantly through the seasons is Sheridan Road, her most recent and painful professional failure. It also doesn't look good that Syd is the only one not " European trained" of the young chefs and is precisely the one whose recipes and creations are never properly acknowledged or explored.

The worst part of all this is that Sydney is the only woman in the main cast whose childhood dream was cooking professionaly. Tina, Marcus, and Luca discover this passion later in life, you could even say Carmy didn't dream of fine dining before Michael cast him out of the sandwich shop. But Sydney likely grows up dreaming of this as the only daughter of a single father (who is likely a first-generation American), a girl who lost her mother quite young; therefore, she is conscious about time and how she decides to use it.

So, dear Bear writers, please let Sydney win; at this point, I am begging you. Out of dignity and craftsmanship, if I cannot ask for more. You may resolve this in s4, or whatever time you are thinking for this. Let me inside her heart, her deep motives, to find her courage, let her shine. Follow her. She will love Carmy still, and if Carmy comes from her, let her be his.

[exercise-of-trust]

everyone clap and cheer for my beautiful daughter who has every disease 🥰 her name is þerindë because her wheel is made out of an embroidery hoop; she is entirely handmade and boy howdy does it show

a whole bunch of things have stopped working since i took that video last night and i'm not sure how much more wherewithal i have to keep messing with her, but i did manage to spin about two feet of something before then! so i'm showing her off a bit now, and if i can figure out what-all i fucked up maybe you'll see more of her in the future. some process and progress photos under the cut (not a tutorial. do not do this. i cannot sufficiently stress how bad of an idea this was and is*)

(*if you are going to do this and have questions not answered here i am always happy to answer them, inbox and dms are open etc, but like. i would strongly advise against it)

here's the hoop! it's about a foot across, with a groove carved out with a speedball. this ended up being way too shallow (who'd'a'thunk) so the final version is a lot deeper than what you're seeing here. the paint stirrers are held in with straight pins because i was worried regular nails would just crack the hoop lmao. my girl is so deeply and profoundly scuffed <3

the flyer is made from three cedar shingles glued together because i didn't have a solid piece of wood large enough. astonishingly nothing broke while i was sawing out the rough shape and it whittled down pretty nicely! the hooks are scrap 2mm copper wire, the orfice is a couple inches of plastic drinking straw, and the pulley wheel is also hand-carved, which is why it looks like a fucked-up oreo and has the weird hitch at the top of the spin that you probably saw in the video 🙃 frankly i am astonished it works as well as it does

the wheel frame is. man. the axle supports haven't broken yet but frankly it's a miracle they're still in place with how much strain they're under every time. the original base was that weird little bit of paint stirrer, which (shocker) did not work out in the long run; it's been replaced by an offcut from the frame and is significantly more sturdy now. it's surprisingly level, though, and turns pretty smoothly all things considered!

the frame was a nightmare start to finish; i've never done any serious woodworking before in my life and the whole thing was just kind of slapped together without a plan or any sort of concrete measurement. it wobbles so fucking bad and every few hours i have to push a couple of the parts back together where the nails are sort of drifting out of the wood. you may observe a weird post sticking out the left side of the mother-of-all; that is supposed to be for scotch tensioning. does it actually do that? sort of! the belt is a length of cotton crochet thread that is, after much fiddling, just the right size to not slip out more than once every three minutes.

treadling was another pain to figure out and i think i probably made it way more complicated than it needed to be. it still doesn't work very well and i can't tell if that's something i can fix hardware-wise or if i just have to suck it up and practice a lot more. turns out feet are not as coordinated as hands! i would say "now i know for next time!" but frankly i am never doing this again. you couldn't pay me. speaking of which, i did the math and at my current pre-tax hourly salary i could've bought two brand-new ashford travelers with the number of hours i spent building my awful rickety daughter. at the end of the day, do i love her? immensely. is she "good"? by no stretch of the imagination.

anyway. this was a terrible use of my time <3 but i do finally feel confident enough in all the parts of a spinning wheel and what they're for that i can brave the dangers of facebook marketplace's "spinning wheel" category without getting too badly scammed! which is pretty valuable in its own right, i guess.

[ardentpoop]

s15 cas is like Huff Puff fuckass dean treating me like dirt every day I hope you and your precious sweet beloved darling baby brotherwife are happy together forever you goddamn asshole. fuck my stupid baka life. oh hi sam :) I profoundly respect you and your efforts to protect our son from the big strong man we’re permanently bound to who sucks really bad but I wish he’d smile at me just once. we needn’t question his authority altho it is directly endangering everyone in the room lol. wait actually perhaps we should if sam says so! because jack’s life is important to me! ummm anyways back to dean since im about to get eaten by goo. have I ever told you you’re the most brave and noble man the world has ever seen and you were so selfless when u had your hand around sam’s throat and mine all those times. I love u even tho you compared me to a talking dog. let the goo take me now bc I am finally at peace. dean please give sam a passionate kiss in my stead if she starts bawling over my empty trenchcoat while you manfully check the time and grunt in annoyance which is how I know u care deep down.

[tollingreminiscentbells]

You know what I really like about your All changed, changed utterly series? I mean obviously everything, but what I especially like about it? That Lucifer is competent and capable. There are so many fics where Lucifer has no idea how to rule or be a leader and here this is not the case. And it is logical because okay he had a 2-3 thousand years long break from ruling over Hell but still he was already doing it for 10 thousand years so of course when he decides to start actively ruling again he knows what he's doing and how to achieve what he wants. He is competent, capable, manipulative and cunning just like a being older than time should be and I absolutely love this in your story. No wonder Alastor finds this attractive in Lucifer, one can dig a competent partner especially if it's the Devil himself. :) Anyway, can't wait for the last installment and thank you for writing this wonderful series!!! (Also my theory for why Alastor could see Lucifer at the beginning is that it was because God himself ships them. XD Can't wait to find out the real reason!)

Aww, thank you! I've joked to friends that All changed is my Lucifer propaganda piece. I don't go out of my way to be critical in fandom, because I think that everyone should feel free to enjoy the things they enjoy, but I've also never tried to hide that I don't vibe with some Lucifer characterization choices. A sort of innocent, almost childlike softness that doesn't exist in the show. He has whimsical goofiness, of course, but in the show he's also rude, callous, and perfectly comfortable with lethal violence.

Goofy characters can be fucked up! Alastor is.

I write Lucifer as an ancient being of the cosmos. He's been through it, he's seen it all before, he is in some ways profoundly inhuman, and Alastor is his special, precious babygirl. When Alastor is, in fact, Just Some Guy. Ancient Being of the Cosmos/Just Some Guy is one of my favorite flavors of romance and RadioApple is primed for it.

I'm just always delighted that other people are having fun with me and this AU, and maybe just a little bit Lucifer in particular. I am very close to finished with the finale now, so part 1 (of 2) will be out this weekend! And if you have been enjoying competent, capable, manipulative, and cunning Lucifer, I like to think you'll be happy.

Also, I love that theory. It's hilarious and nothing I ever thought of. But I'm here for it! <3

[boylikeanangel]

the way they acknowledged all the hurt gabriel had caused them both, especially crowley, how profoundly he'd had them terrified for thousands of years, how he had been one of the singular reasons they were unable to ever act on their feelings for each other, and then turned around and gave him the happy ending they'd been yearning for instead. I think that's honestly why I'm more upset than anything. I cannot make my peace with the way this played out because letting gabriel and beelzebub, the two characters who were most instrumental in trying to destroy crowley and aziraphale for loving each other last season, go off together with no punishment and no questions asked, letting them do the exact thing they made aziraphale and crowley too scared to do for literal fucking millennia, is so unbelievably cruel, so intentionally spiteful towards them and us, that it makes me sick to my fucking stomach just thinking about it. it's such a slap in the face. the fact they went as far to have crowley sit gabriel down and tell him just how much he hates him for what he did to the man he loved, for keeping them apart, for making sure that he never got to be with aziraphale in the way he wanted, only to watch him get literally everything he'd ached for for his entire fucking existence, without working for it, without apologising, would have been sickening enough, but for then to put crowley through losing aziraphale again as a direct result of that. it's sick. it's twisted. and I am not going to forgive.

[legacyshenanigans]

Not to mention that these things usually start WAY before your period even fucking arrives.

I can honestly say, I probably have ONE good week, and that's usually the week following a period, and then my body starts building up for the next and I suffer with a number of these until I'm suffering from the next period itself.

But I also hate when people call it out as 'stigma' when they say shit like:

"People think that folk on their period are just angry monsters, and that's just NOT true!!"

Well, to have that opinion, you're clearly a person who doesn't suffer as many others do then! Kudos to ya. Happy for ya. But I will outright admit that I AM an angry monster. Many of us are, and THAT'S VALID, and in saying that opinion, you're actually making it worse for those of us who DO suffer. You don't speak for me as a person who has periods.

I will not hide my suffering as a person who has very brutal, awful, devastating periods.

I will not act like I'm perfect and fine and can handle it when I can't, or that periods are a "beautiful thing" when they're absolutely not, for many people.

I've been having periods for the last 20 years. And from the MOMENT my body decided it was my time, I have suffered profoundly. I have been on every fucking pill, injection, rod, coil you can think of, NOTHING has worked for me, and/or has fucked my body up even more with sideeffects.

So If I have an attitude and I'm a raging bitch on my period?

SHUT UP. LET ME. AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS.

Especially when YOU HAVE NO FUCKIN IDEA how it feels.

🩸

[igotanidea]

Newcomer : Simon Riley x reader pt 1

Ever since she was a kid she was learnt how to be obedient.

A good girl.

Always listening to her parents, doing whatever they told, listening, being the best student in the school, always with the best grades, sticking with the rules.

Some things changed when she entered the teenagerhood. The "rebel age". Questioning a lot of things, defying her parents, trying to find her own way. It didn;t exactly work well with her parents, who would much rather she was still a kid, that they could control in any way they saw fit. But since she stopped listening to words and taking them for granted, the methods of their behaviour upgraded as well.

Every time she did something her parents believed to be wrong (meaning: done in the way that was diffent from theirs) she was called names, yelled at and condemned to cold treatment until she apologises.

Whenever she tried fighting her way or proving her point or straight-forward call her parents on their bullshit she ended up on the floor, being choked or hit, screaming at the top of her lungs, scratching and wriggling in pain. Sporting the bruises and marks long after cause her father was not a man who took objection well and definitely not the one to pull his punches.

So she moved out.

But pretty much it didn;t change a lot in her mentality.

Yes, she became successfull and made a career.

Yes, she aced in the professional area.

But her personal life was a mess.

And while her "friends" were getting married and having kids she was alone, save for that one guy she was hanging around thinking he cared for her.

But it clearly was not enough.

Every family meeting was met with more and more intrusive questions and moralising that a woman her age should have a husband and a family and a proper life and not spending time solely on her work.

Constant comparision to the kids of her parents' friends was not good for her mental health, since obviously she was a failure in that juxtaposition.

No one ever ask how you doing anymore cause they know nothing good is happening in your life.

Truly there's nothing to say when my colleagues keep talking about their kids with nice family life.

You fucked up your own life. You must have kids at some points.

I am just so tired of admiring other's kids without being able to show off my own grandkids!

You are mental for saying that you don;t want kids!

As fucked up as all those comments from her parents were they were making her feel like a walking disaster. No one. A trash. It was like all her mother and father saw in her was an empty womb that seemed to be a disgrace for the family. Apparently, nothing else in her life was worth mentioning in this competition.

And it fucking hurt every time. Like a shot in the heart cause being alone was not something she choose.

But after months and months of hearing all those harsh words, she made a few mistakes....

Long story short, one night with her so-called-boyfiend ended up with her being pregnant.

And said boyfirend laughing in her face, while calling her a whore, profoundly explaining why the bastard was not his problem at all and leaving her alone, disappearing from her life.

Yes, she could have terminated, but it was not something she could live with in the long term.

So she was keeping the baby.

***

"You whore!" her mother yelled at her

"you both wanted grandkids!" Y/N laughed maniaclly in response "there! your dreams just came true, you should be fucking happy!"

"You're an infamy. You have an illegitimate child, no husband, not even boyfirend, no one." her father added cruelly "do not expect any help from us."

"But--" she stuttered. This was not something she saw coming. But the facts stood clear - her own parents were pretty much disowning her, leaving her completely alone to tend to herself and the unborn baby.

"Get out of this house Y/N. I don;t have a daughter from today."

"But mom-"

"You heard what your mother said. Get out. Now."

It was terrible on so many levels. Not only because they kicked her out, but also because they still wanted the girl who would follow their every order, not realising she was a grown up woman.

So obviously she left. Trying to wrap her head around what happened and figure how to deal with everything alone.

And that was when Simon came into her life.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Dream!Reader appears in the Red Keep: Wait a minute. What am I doing here? The Targaryen dynasty is crushed and there is no Targaryen, but Baratheons, Tyrells and Lannisters.

Meanwhile Cersei Lannister is just walking around only to see Dream!Reader.

Cersei Lannister: 😶

Dream!Reader:😶… I apologise, I just leave and won’t trouble you 😅

Meanwhile Cersei is like: I’m adopting you.

What do you think, would Lannisters and Robert Baratheon become attached to Dream!Reader? After all Robert has a Targaryen blood running in his veins.

Dream!Reader, finding themselves transported to the Red Keep: What the hell?! Where am- is that a fucking statue of me?!?!?!

Cersei, casually strolling by only to find Dream!Reader: *target acquired* You there!

Dream!Reader: 😶😳 yes…?

Cersei: You’re mine now~ 🥰😈

Dream!Reader: What the actual fuck is happening right now???

~~~

I can’t help but like the idea of Dream!Reader often reminding Robert, much to his immense annoyance and frustration, that he does in fact have Targaryen blood running through his veins. Whenever he tries to shoot the claims down or not acknowledge them at all, Dream!Reader chimes in with a “I would know, I was at the wedding after all”. It would be even funnier if they offhandedly mentioned also being in attendance of his birth too, whether it’s actually true or just Dream!Reader fucking with him doesn’t matter cause his reaction would be hilarious either way.

I feel like everyone would have some form of knowledge about Dream!Reader before they just showed up but as far they knew it was all tall tales and nothing more. Especially if a lot of people from back when didn’t see the Reader for themself, everyone else outside of the Targaryen’s circle may as well have thought the Targaryens were truly all mad and worshipped some strange deity or otherworldly being going as far as to build statues, sing songs and write plentiful stories about the one they were so profoundly devoted to. But now that they’re met with the real deal, even if it is many, many years later, they can’t help but find some form of understanding in the Targaryens infatuation for the Reader. Even though they look like anyone else, ordinary and what seemed to be so unassuming, the people around them couldn’t help but be drawn to them nonetheless. Even though there was so much recorded about the Reader and their adventures from before now they were still very much so an enigma that many wanted to figure out and learn the ins and outs of.

If Dream!Reader was still very loyal to House Targaryen, whether of their own accord or they were just all the Reader really knew and was familiar with, then once mention of Daenerys and Viserys comes up they would want to be there for the remaining dragons. Or it may be the other way around and word of the Reader popping up reaches Illyrio, Viserys and Daenerys. Viserys especially would want the Reader with them for many reasons but mainly because of how highly they were admired and adored by his mother and the Targaryens before. He grew up on the stories of Dream!Reader, hell he may have even seen or interacted with the Reader himself which would only add more to the desperation and obsession of getting to have them be by his side.

Meanwhile, Daenerys has only been brought up on the stories. They were the only thing that her brother seemed to genuinely show happiness for when retelling them over and over again. No doubt that Viserys in his younger years while in hiding with Dany asserted that the Reader would come back for them, that they would be saved and taken back home one day. And this would only fill Dany with hope for the Reader’s return and what would come from it.

[bonefall]

How are we feeling at the book finale? Because outside of the Sunbeam girlboss moment telling Berryheart just how bad of a family she was AND maybe possibly foreshadowing her rejecting Nightheart, I think we miiiight get some more Dark Forest cats than planned before :D (also I may be wrong but- didn't Podlight have children? Would he even be eligible as Medicine Cat in BB?)

Podlight's totally eligible in BB! He has no canon children and I didn't give him any. In BB there's also an interesting quirk in that Podlight is notoriously Mistystar's... not EXACTLY a good-for-nothing grandson, but a bit of a "fratboy" working through daddy issues. Is is extra funny for this cat to be a villain lmao.

Also: Better Bones RiverClan Family Tree

Anyway... my thoughts on the spoiler thread's ending. Mostly negative, unfortunately. I am really hoping that a lot of this is misrepresentation.

I've enjoyed every book of ASC that's come out so far, but if this thread is accurate, this is going to be the first one that I actively dislike. It sounds like there was a serious nosedive in quality.

ON THE ENDING; Park Cats, and The Berryheart Gathering.

Park Cats.

It is profoundly frustrating to me that we had TWO traveling books in this arc. Do they not know by now that traveling books are widely detested for a reason??

Frostpaw and Nightheart were AWAY FROM THE CONFLICT for most of this book, what the fuck?

The plot barely advanced at all. There's been one major conflict in this entire arc, the invasion of RiverClan, and we are 4/6ths of the way through without any other major battles. This is boring.

Riverstar is a major character through this bullshit, now with a magical perfect connection to Frostpaw through plot convenience so he can give her tutorial tips, because GOD FORBID we have a more grounded story for once. I'm so sick of DOTC fanservice. Was a super edition not enough?!

And speaking of Riverstar's Home, they pretty clearly ripped a lot of inspiration out of it. Frostpaw and Nightheart go on a journey with random human-related shenanigans before finding a cardboard cutout of a culture

I'm not gonna lie guys. I do not like the Park Cats. I HAVE TO SAY; It's a step in the right direction

They are not demonized. They are treated as good and legitimate. They are seen as having wisdom and living peacefully.

This is Good. This is Fine.

(im still kind of mad they needed riverstar to come save them back in riverstar's home, like every non-clan culture does apparently, but HOKAY fine ok it's fine)

.....butt.

They're boring. guys, they have one thing that is unique to them, and it's meditation. They live in perfect peace and harmony. there's nothing there.

It's easy to be a perfect, peaceful society if you have no conflict ever.

IF THE SPOILER THREAD IS ACCURATE, we don't see them address strife, how they DO handle disputes, what DOES happen when a cat engages in "criminality," or even really see what their spiritual beliefs are besides "meditating"

And that's why the idea of Frostpaw taking away a good lesson from living with them strikes me as so hollow. WHAT is she taking from them? JUST vague, quiet meditation?? Why couldn't Riverstar just magically teach her that?

It also bothers me that this culture is exactly the same as it was in Riverstar's Home. It's in stasis. Nothing has changed, nothing has grown, they haven't picked up new customs. They don't even seem to have their own history besides remembering that Riverstar showed up generations ago.

It's not a culture, it's a plot device.

I swear, I'm really trying to like them, but RH left this really sour taste in my mouth and them showing up again in this book has only made me more frustrated.

I AM happy that we're going to maybe start trying to address the violence of Clan Culture, but it is coming in the middle of a book where nothing fucking happens, and they're starting to fumble the bag on the xenophobic radicalization that I'd been praising in the past few books

And by that, I'm referring to...

Berryheart's Gathering

through the books so far, I've been praising the slow rise of tension coming from the radicalized members of ShadowClan.

I think the way that Berryheart and her little Concern Club had been slowly escalating in their bigotry and violence was (and remains) unironically fantastic.

We had started off with it just being a group to "discuss the issues," which evolved into active bullying and harassment, progressed into attempted murder, and we left off on the idea that Berryheart's Hate Group was planning something with RiverClan's murder party.

And we are reaching a turning point in that arc, the payoff of a long and well-laid escalation, with...

normal democracy.

berryheart and her supporters approach puddleshine reasonably with their concerns and intent to call for a vote to depose tigerheartstar. doing the thing the fucking code addition was made for

This comes AFTER Sunbeam has a Girlboss Moment telling off Berryheart for being a bad mom in front of the whole gathering and everyone claps, mind you, so this is clearly supposed to be the narrative's big "oooo consequences for Berryheart" moment

So anyway Berryheart brings up that they want tigerHeartstar deposed, and then Puddleshine's like "haHA THIS WAS A ROUSE"

"Actually I only told you i agree to point out how this code addition can be exploited over a disagreement with ONE issue!!!!1"

i just...

im......

would Brokenstar training babies be One Issue? Would Bramblefake being a bully to his entire clan be One Issue? Would Leopardstar allowing Tigerstar to take over RiverClan be One Issue?

One Issue....

And MIND YOU I'm Pro-tigerHeartstar, actually, but the WHOLE fucking point of the rule is that you can depose someone who is not acting in the best interest of the Clans. Fym ONE ISSUE??

IT'S A BIG ASS ISSUE!

So anyway Berryheart is embarrassed in front of everyone, tigerHeartstar tells the group, "You're going to support me or get out of my Clan"

All of her supporters fall in line, but Berryheart chooses exile.

So Berryheart and her group isn't punished for the hate crimes, it didn't lead to anyone getting actually hurt, this faction of cats just settled back down and Berryheart alone was exiled for political opposition to occupation.

not the hate crimes

GOTTA STRESS

The hate crimes did not cause lasting damage, the radicalized group did not cause any violence at this gathering

Berryheart is exiled for political opposition to occupation.

The consequence she faces for the hate crimes was simply not having her son Spireclaw back her up because she caused trouble for Fringewhisker. Like it's on the same level as being a bad in-law and not ATTEMPTED MURDER BASED ON BIGOTRY

And tigerHeartstar, jesus christ

His consistent trait has been becoming unreasonable WHEN HIS FAMILY IS THREATENED. WHY are we tossing this out the window now?

I REALLY REALLY hope that the spoiler thread is misrepresentation, and tigerHeartstar didn't ACTUALLY exile her but said something like, "this is what we're doing. don't like it, leave. you don't have the votes"

SO FOR NOW; I'm going to reserve judgement on what the writers are doing with tigerHeartstar.

This seems like the exact sort of thing that may be worded in an inaccurate way

But that said,

I'm beside myself with disappointment in this turn of events. Why is this about legitimate political proceedings? Why did they make the CULMINATION of this arc about bigoted violence and radicalization a legitimate, peaceful attempt to use the process THEY JUST ADDED, FOR THIS EXACT PURPOSE?

Anyway, then it ends on a cliffhanger

Podlight claims to be the new medcat, pointed out as just being a political maneuver, to appoint Splashtail as the new leader.

Frostpaw watches on in shock and thinks about how bad it is that a murderer is now in charge of RiverClan, and how no one would believe her if she told them all now

I sure hope the next book contains something worth reading. like a fight or something. in the battle cat series. in the arc where theyre trying to say something about violence.

[rdng1230]

Your post has me desperately needing a bucktommy/saltommy edit to mitski’s washing machine heart but continuing on because ✨pain✨

Anyways because i need more angst do you think sal ever thinks about that night and wishes he had stayed. Had had the courage to whisper words in the daylight instead of moon light. Do you think he’s happy for Tommy when he sees him with Buck but goes home and brings out the old whiskey bottle because he cant stand to look in the mirror because he’s scared what might stare back at him, scared to accept both of them moved on but a part of them both will always be tangled under those sheets under a night sky and lost promises.

(Honestly i gotta quit getting drunk and writing shit at 1:30 in the morning ignore this if ya want to)

ya know I wish I had the patience to become a good video editor, but I honestly fear the monster I would become. I am also chronically bad at remembering song names so I had to Spotify that one real quick and as soon as that little electronic beat came on I was like “oh fuck it’s THAT ONE” I see you anon, I see your vision.

on to the actual answer. There’s two nights you could be talking about so I guess we’re doing double trouble angst on this fine evenin’

Toxic Sal Tommy version with the bad call and the bottoming and the being a fucker afterwards? I think that version of Sal is a lot more terrified of the idea of wanting to be taken care of rather than letting tommy love him specifically. And also just the fear of being truly known, no cocky arrogant mask, no hierarchy, just a guy who is *deeply* affected by the horrors of his job and for one night let’s those wounds be seen. I don’t think this version of Sal truly loved Tommy, I think he profoundly trusted tommy, and that scared the shit out of him which is why he lashed out and ended it. I don’t think seeing Buck and Tommy together specifically would affect him. I think just seeing Tommy as he is now, such an open person who’s honest and doesn’t hide, I think that’s what would haunt Sal the most. I also think his behavior is a repetitive pattern. It’s a matter of 2 steps forward 3 steps back. He finds someone he can bond with, eventually builds a trust, let’s them in for the briefest of encounters, and blows it up again. Rinse lather repeat.

ok doomed lovers Saltommy? Dear god. I think so much of his decision to go into Tommy’s room that night is wrapped up in about 10 layers of guilt at probie’s death, shame at wanting comfort for something he thinks he caused, desire because that pounding in his chest that happens only around Tommy has become undeniable, and just wanting someone there to share the grief with. And even with the crushing tide of all those negative emotions, being in Tommy’s arms for the first time is still one of the best nights of his life.

But the rest of their relationship? That’s the part he truly aches over. He knows the way things ended hurt Tommy deeply, and all the hurt was avoidable if Sal had just admitted his own cowardice, that he knew he was going to hold Tommy back and that it was for the best he leave Sal behind. But instead he let that resentment of Tommy’s bravery build up inside him and made Tommy feel like he was doing something wrong or that Sal just didn’t love him. He used Bobby, a man he knew deep down was right to call him out, to place himself in exile, finally giving Tommy the freedom Sal couldn’t bear to give him himself.

when he sees the picture in the paper he spends the day letting himself cry in a way he never has before. He cries for the dead probie, he cries for all the people he hurt because he couldn’t stand their vulnerabilities, he cries because he knows the man he loves is truly lost to him. He genuinely does feel better after letting it all out and he ends up resolving himself that even though they’d never be together, he should have the decency to tell Tommy it was never his fault, and that all those things he’d said when their romantic relationship ended were completely untrue. so he writes that down in a letter. Tommy’s moved since they cut contact, so he decides to deliver the letter to harbor station in person.

when he gets there he’s surprised to see the 118 kid clearly bringing Tommy lunch. Sal stands just out of sight but he catches their conversation. He realizes Evan Buckley is already fixing all the pieces of Tommy’s heart that Sal broke. And that knowledge makes Sal happier and sadder than anything else ever has.

[lemonandpie]

Brudick for the ask meme!

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did:

Probably since forever? I shipped Batman and Robin before I even knew there were multiple Robins

my thoughts:

I've been binging Wormsin's fic the past couple days, which means I'm in a darker place when it comes to Brudick. (Also I've been craving some erotic thriller recently and that should just be Brudick: the genre. Can you imagine Bruce and Dick doing the piano scene in Stoker? Amazing).

Right now, I'm lamenting how rarely we see Bruce and Dick together anymore. They are the relationship that defines the Batverse, but almost three decades of Robin being treated like a bad word in DC cinema, I am missing Dick being Bruce's foil. His mirror. The one who took Batman's ideals and became something Batman himself could never be. But more than that, I'm just missing them right now.

What makes me happy about them:

I love mess :D

fr though I just have a thing for super messy father and son-esque mentor relationships where they're perfect together except one is definitely going to kill the other someday. They have a blowup and I wiggle my toes, but I think their sweetness gets me the most. I'm not big on the current era of comics, but I do love Bruce acknowledging Dick's worth and strength and I think Bruce needs to it more often

What makes me sad about them:

Their relationship is so heartbreakingly toxic sometimes, and not even in the fun way. Slade can almost kill Dick and it's hot, but if Dick was my friend and Bruce treated him that way (either as a partner or a parent or even just as a boss), I'd be begging him to leave. There's a real bitter undercurrent of Bruce being expected to do no wrong but also be dark and broody and grim that leans on Dick to always forgive, always come back, no matter what Bruce does to him. I think that just makes me sad about Bruce in general-- I am gagging for character development and DC steadfast refuses to give it to me.

things done in fanfic that annoys me:

I think a lot of fic makes Bruce either too good or too awful, until it's either boring or ooc. I just can't with a Bruce who is just the worst, or at least so deeply profoundly mediocre that he may as well be the worst. But also sunshine and rainbows seems too happy for them. It's a hard balance for the source materials, let alone the fic. And I include myself in this! I think Brudick is a genuinely difficult ship to write, because their dynamic is just difficult to nail down in general. Honestly I struggle to write them because of it, myself

things I look for in fanfic:

Passion. They may be the old married couple of the DCU, but Brudick are sexy. Any fic where they're a couple has to include the fact that they're an extremely taboo relationship but they're just so into each other it doesn't matter. Sizzling chemistry. Raw desire. The kind of mental anguish to keep Catholicism alive til the next millenia.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

Realistically, I think Bruce is going to end up with no one, but I'm down for some BatCat. Dick I ship with almost everyone

My happily ever after for them:

Dick being in a fucking live action film again

The DC world is so incredibly unpredictable that I think any ending I can imagine now would be completely incongruous to what would make sense five or ten years down the line. And honestly it's hard to imagine an ending for them. Right now, I would just like a run where Dick and Bruce have to lose their current status quo and have to genuinely understand and accept everything they are to each other. Yeah yeah, they hugged recently, but god I want them both to be stripped down to their darkest secrets and bared to each other; where Bruce can't make empty platitudes and Dick can't just forgive everything. Something where they get the choice to walk away and instead hold each other twice as hard. And then I want the hug

who is the big spoon/little spoon:

Bruce is the big spoon. Dick is the loose limbed jellyfish who can't stay still for five minutes and prefers to be face buried in Bruce's chest anyway

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:

Fighting Swinging through the city, grappling hooks not necessarily required.