#i definitely wonder if i should be medicated again to take that into account

[otaku-hotgirl]

procrastination, as usual, had been beating my ass

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute, Chapter 4 - Law

Source for the pic

Word Count: 4487 (these just keep getting bigger!)

Warnings: Fem!Reader, This is going to be a series featuring Ace, Sanji, Law, Zoro and Kid.

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans.

Notes: I'm really sorry if I messed up some medical expressions. I tried to Google everything first!

| Chapter 3 - Zoro | |Chapter 5 - Sanji|

Law:

Your dad's grunts and wails have been increasing both in volume and in intensity, so you let out a long breath of relief as you finally park the truck at the clinic’s - thankfully almost empty - parking space. 

“Hey, dad” you say softly as your heart clenches at the sight of your father’s sweaty face and scrunched up brows. “I'm going to grab you a wheelchair and some help, okay?”

You take his grunt as a positive answer and run inside the clinic, only noticing your dishevelled state as you catch sight of your reflection in the glass doors: your white top is not white anymore and there's a tear at the bottom; your shorts have dirt and oil all over them; you don't even want to get started on your knees and legs, which are bruised and scraped from kneeling on the dirt; and your once perfectly braided hair is no longer perfect and it is barely braided. 

You sigh as you enter the clinic and wince in pain as you step your foot wrong. You definitely sprained it when you were with Zoro. 

You drag yourself to the front desk and the blonde girl gasps as she looks at your state. “Oh, my!” She gets up hastily and goes around the desk to reach you. “Are you all right?”

You nod frantically. “I'm fine, I'm fine. I-... Kaya?”

The girl looks at you with a furrowed brow but it doesn't take her more than five seconds before her mouth turns into an ‘o’ and she exclaims your name happily. “You're back! It's been ages!”

You laugh and nod. “Yes, we should catch up. After we get my father inside. He hurt his back and-...”

“Again?” You swear this time your ears start fuming. This has happened more than once and this doctor keeps sending him home? Oh, he is going to get a piece of your mind. “Shachi, Penguin, can you be darlings and bring Mr. S. inside? He's had another incident.”

You cross your arms against your chest and frown as you watch two men go outside with a wheelchair to bring your father inside. 

“They'll take him to Dr. Trafalgar. How about you, sweetie, are you alright? You don't seem well.” Kaya was your friend from kindergarten to half of the middle school, until she went home to be home-schooled. You lost touch with her even before you left town, but she has always been such a nice friend that you actually find yourself sharing a soft smile with the blonde. 

“I've had a few mishaps with the car before getting here.” You sigh. “I'll go freshen up in the bathroom and then I'll meet my dad. Is that alright?”

She nods and points you to the ladies’ room. You stand in front of the mirror and, as you're passing your fingers through your hair, trying - and failing - to detangle its knots, you realise you should eat something. You discarded breakfast on account of that stupid asshole and his selfies, and you and your father didn't have a chance to eat lunch. 

But first, you let out a deep sigh at your appearance, you should try to make yourself presentable. You don't want to chew the doctor's ears out looking like a hobo. 

Washing up as best as you can, massaging your sprained ankle, and redoing your braid - there's nothing to be done about the state of your clothes - you deem yourself somewhat presentable and, as you leave the bathroom, you see your father being wheeled to a room so you follow him quickly. 

“Daddy!”

“Buuuuuug! The doc gave me the good stuff!” He slurs and guffaws, opening his arm and almost throwing himself off the chair to hug you. Then he turns his voice into a whisper. “He stabbed a needle in ma butt!” Shanks uses his hand to hide his cheeky laugh before he continues. “Imma stay here for a while because they'll put some more drugs in my arm. And then we can go.”

What? IV and an injection? That's the whole treatment? No. Not on your watch. 

“Yeah, that's good dad, rest.” You smile at him and then turn to the man with the brown hair who is wheeling him. “Hey, where's the doctor's office? I need to speak with him.”

“Er… I… Hum… Dr. Trafalgar doesn't like unannounced visitors…” He stutters but you silence him with an angry look. “But if you must know, it's that door.” He then chuckles nervously and wheels Shanks to a room. 

You take a deep breath and stomp towards the office the attendant pointed out to you. After one step, you stop stomping because your ankle hurts too much, but you still make it to your destination. You knock lightly on the door, because you're not a savage, but start to tap your foot on the floor when you don't get an immediate answer. 

As you raise your fist for a second round of angrier knocks, you hear a deep ‘come in’ from inside the office and you open the door, wearing a frown. 

Which is quickly turned into a stunned expression because you didn't quite know what to expect from the doctor you've been hearing about, but this was not it. 

He's hot. 

There's no other way to describe the man in front of you. His black hair is tousled to perfection and you have to swallow a lump when he fixes his amber gaze upon your own. The frown and the furrowed brows only add to his allure, as you notice the tattooed forearms and knuckles. What an interesting choice of tattoos for a doctor, you can't help but think. 

They spell DEATH. 

The rest of his arms are covered by his white coat but you can't help but wonder if he has more ink on them. But that wondering soon stops, because he's already asked you twice about what you need and you have been transfixed in the same spot, drooling at him. 

“Right, hi! My father. Shanks! He was just here.” You exclaim as if that explains everything. 

“Yes, I know. I'm his doctor.”

He stares at you. “Oh, it’s my turn.” You stumble with your words and, is that an amused smirk in the stoic doctor’s face? Couldn't be, since it disappeared as soon as it appeared. “What is wrong with him? I keep hearing that he needs to come to the clinic more than once a week because of his back. That's not normal.” You seem to regain your cool and remember that you are there to get some answers from this man. 

He leans back in his chair and gestures for you to sit but you're too wound up to stay still, so you decline and start pacing the office. You're having a hard time breathing, so you start to fan yourself with your hand. 

“You're right, it's not.”

“What is it, then?”

His fingers entwine with one another as his gaze follows your form. You're limping, fanning both of your hands now, and you look like shit. You must be quite a spectacle.

“Doctor/patient confidentiality.”

“Are you kidding me?” Does your voice usually sound so far away? Because everything seems super bright and all the sounds are blending together. You stop and grip the back of the chair tightly, your knuckles turning white from the strength. 

“I'm not. Your father is sane and, other than his back, of good health. I have discussed treatment plans with him. He knows what he has and he knows what he needs to do in order to recover. To you, I can't say anything without his explicit permission.” You see him tense up as he stares at you and your behaviour. His brows furrow further as he turns his body to the side, as if he's about to get up. 

“But I'm his daughter!” You let out a ridiculous whine and start to gasp for air. 

“And I'm his doctor.” He gets up and approaches you. “Sit. You're so pale I can almost see through you. When was the last time you ate and-...”

That's the last thing you remember before waking up in a bed next to your father. 

-*-

You blink as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room and take shallow breaths. Your head is throbbing and the constant beeping noise from the machine is not helping you at all. You realise that the beeping machine is hooked to you through your finger, as well as an IV attached to your arm. 

You raise your torso with a grunt and see that the cuts and bruises on your legs have been tended to, and your ankle is now sporting a not-so-fashionable elastic bandage with a pack of ice sitting on it. 

“Bug! You’re up!” Your dad flails his arm in the bed next to you to get you to look at him. “Law! Kaya! Someone!”

Pressing your thumb and index finger against the bridge of your nose, you sigh deeply. “Dad, dad, there’s a button to call the nurse next to the bed, please don’t scream.”

But it’s not necessary to use the button because Kaya enters the room with a concerned smile and gravitates towards you. “Sweetie, how are you?” Her voice is so gentle and kind that it forces an immediate smile from your lips. 

“My head is killing me. What happened?”

“Well, Dr. Trafalgar said it’s probably hypoglycemia - low blood sugar - he had some blood tests done, the results should be in at any moment. Have you eaten anything today?”

You nod and are about to say yes, of course, but the words don’t leave your mouth because they are not true. You really haven’t eaten anything today. “No.”

“Then, that’s definitely it.” Kaya giggles. “I could hear you yelling at Dr. Trafalgar from where I was sitting. He looked kind of flustered when he opened the office door, carrying you in his arms.”

You blush as your eyes widen. “What?”

“Well, you were unconscious, so he carried you to the examination room.” She giggles again and lowers her voice so your father doesn’t hear the rest. “Sweetie, you two looked straight out of a romantic movie. He was carrying you bridal style with a look of concern and you looked rather frail all curled up against his strong frame.”

You keep feeling your face getting hotter as the beep from the machine next to you grows louder and faster. Kaya has always loved romantic movies, so it’s no wonder she would think something silly like this. For all you know, Dr. Trafalgar was dangling you by one arm and you banged your head on all the thresholds before reaching this room.

It would explain the throbbing headache. 

“Nurse Kaya, I do hope you’re questioning the patient about medical history and the possible cause of this incident and not engaging in idle gossiping?”

You gasp alongside Kaya as Dr. Trafalgar approaches you both, a scowl on his face and his brows scrunched. How is his forehead not permanently wrinkled from all the pouts and frowns?

“No, I was just gossiping. I’m sorry.” Kaya giggles as you gasp at her truthful response. Is she allowed to speak like this with her superior? His stare at Kaya is so intense that, after a moment, she excuses herself and leaves you two alone with your father on the other bed, seemingly distracted by a soap opera on TV, until he spots the doctor next to you.

“Oh, Law! How is my baby girl?”

“Don’t call me that, dad.” You whisper between clenched teeth. Law? Is that the doctor’s first name?

“I’m going to examine her now, Mr. S. You can watch your show.” Shanks mouths a droopy ‘okay’ and turns back to the TV. He is still pretty high on drugs, apparently. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” His amber eyes stare at yours and you feel compelled to look at his name tag, instead, but then you are staring at his chest, and is that more ink coming out from the neck of the shirt he is wearing? Does he have a chest piece?

The beeping becomes faster and you switch back to the piercing eyes. “No, I haven’t.” You say, trying to distract yourself. 

“It’s certainly hypoglycemia, then. I will observe you.”

You nod and he removes the stethoscope from his neck, pushing it against your exposed cleavage. “Breathe in.” You take a deep breath. “Now out.” You do. He takes a step forward and tells you to lean forward as he repeats the process on your back. “In. Out.” 

He reaches for a small pen-like flashlight from his coat pocket and points it at your eyes. “Look up. Down. Now the other one, up. Down. Okay, that’s it.”

“That’s it? Aren't you going to say I'm a good girl?” You giggle for a second and then stop abruptly. Suddenly mortified as his eyes pierce into your own with an unreadable expression. “I'm sorry. That was stupid. Are there drugs here?” You point to the IV and as his stare doesn't waver, the beeping on the machine just keeps getting faster and louder. 

“That's just a dextrose and saline solution. No drugs. That was all you.”

The machine just beeps louder and louder and you grunt as you rip the monitor off of your finger, rendering the beeping into a continuous, even more annoying, beep.

“Stupid thing! I think that might be broken.” You snort, wail and hide your face in your hands. Can you be an even bigger idiot? Why are you acting like this? Aren't you supposed to be yelling at this doctor on account of your father? Where has all of your bravado gone? 

Out the window when you passed out and were carried like a princess by her knight in shining armour. As well as all your sane thoughts on feminism and women’s rights, apparently.

Crap. 

“Are you done?” He asks, deadpan as he turns off the monitor and the beeping stops. Now you’re frustrated again, but you simply pout and nod without making eye contact. 

He flips through some files and hums softly. “Your blood tests came out normal. This was a simple incident of low blood-sugar, next time try not to stay too long without eating anything, or, at least, if you’re going to fast, drink plenty of liquids, tea or water, preferably.”

“I wasn’t fasting.” You mumble between clenched teeth, your eyes locked on the chipped nail polish that had come out when you ripped the monitor that was attached to your finger. 

“Whatever weird diet you are on, then. Stop it. You look extremely healthy, you don’t need it.” Could that have been a veiled compliment?

“M’not on a diet.” Your mumble is even quieter.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not on any diet, or fasting, or anything. I just didn’t eat, that’s all.” This time you speak loud and cross your arms over your chest for emphasis.

“You didn’t eat the breakfast I cooked, bug? Is this still because of that jackass fiancé that cheated on you?” Shanks is literally screaming so you know that, by now, the entire clinic knows you’ve been cheated on. Yet you simply inhale, use the back of your hand to wipe away a stray tear and nod.

“I'm going to kill him.” Shanks simply declares as he tries to get up from the bed. “Law, help me kill him.”

You glimpse that amused smirk on the corner of his lips as he watches your father struggling with the bed covers. 

“I would really like to be your partner in crime, Mr. S. But, you see, I took an oath.”

That statement makes you giggle and he turns his gaze back at you, smirk still in place, and your heart does a weird thing that makes you catch your breath. 

“Shove that oath up your-... Ouch, dammit!” Shanks’ legs get tangled in the sheets and he almost falls as he tries to get up. 

“Mr. S. please calm down. We're not killing anyone today okay?” Dr. Trafalgar turns to you. “He seems pretty determined, maybe you should distract him with something less illegal?”

Is he funny as well? He seems so stoic and uptight but he's responding to your father's shenanigans with a dark humour that's making you laugh. 

“Daddy, lie back down on the bed, we will schedule another day to kill him, I promise.” You use your commanding tone and your father grunts before settling back down again. “Besides, since it's the three of us together, I would like to ask you, Shanks, what's the treatment that Dr. Trafalgar recommended for your back because the Dr. doesn't want to share that information with me.”

Your lips turn thin as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“That's a good lad, Law. Thank you.”

You glare at both of them but Dr. Trafalgar just raises his arms defensively. “Doctor/patient confidentiality!”

“Dad!” You huff at the same time as your father groans loudly.

“Just tell her, Law. Or I'll never hear the end of it. And I still have a murder to commit.” He mumbles. 

You turn your attention back to the doctor and try your best not to give him your ‘see you could've told me earlier and we would've avoided this whole situation’ look, but you definitely give him one of those. 

“Your father has a herniated disc in his spine. This occurs when the soft inner core of a disc between the vertebrae protrudes through the tough outer layer, putting pressure on nearby nerves.” 

Your brows tighten at all the medical jargon but you're understanding the essentials, so you nod for him to continue. 

“Mr. S. experiences stabbing pain that radiates along the path of the affected nerve and can lead to episodes of intense pain and sometimes a feeling of weakness or numbness in the affected area. Activities that cause strain on the spine can make it worse. Something like bending down or lifting stuff.”

You turn to your father with a glare in your gaze, your frown heavy and your eyes watery. “I told you you should rest!” Your words are but a sliver that escapes your lips. Dr. Trafalgar continues.

“When the medication hasn't provided enough relief, as it's your father’s case, surgery may be recommended. The procedure typically involves removing the herniated portion of the disc to relieve pressure on the nerves and alleviate symptoms.”

The silence stretches and evolves into a thick fog that encapsulates the three of you within. Your next words are measured carefully, but need to be asked. “Is it a complicated procedure?”

Of course it is! It's on the spine! 

“Each case is unique on its own. The complexity can vary based on factors such as the location and size of the herniation, as well as your father's overall health.”

“And the risks?” Your gaze alternates between the doctor’s professional stance and your father's slumped and defeated form.

“Like any surgery there are inherent risks of infections or allergic reactions. Specifically to this surgery, there's always the chance of the symptoms remaining or that another surgery might be necessary. There's also a more severe risk of nerve damage, which can cause temporary numbness or weakness. Yet, in this case, I would argue that the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

“Dad…” You start. 

“I don't want to discuss this right now.” He discards the use of your nickname and calls you by your birth name, declaring his seriousness of the matter. 

Your lower lip trembles and you nod at him letting out a very soft ‘okay’. Suddenly, realisation hits you. This was probably the reason why he had the horse riding incident. It was the cause not the consequence. 

Dr. Trafalgar places a very gentle hand over yours and you gasp at the shock of his touch. “I will send nurse Kaya to remove your IV and your father's so you can both be on your way and discuss this properly.” You nod. “If you have any questions, you can always call me or visit the clinic.” You nod again, suddenly exhausted as your body starts to complain of all the abuse it suffered today. 

He leaves calling out a ‘take care, Mr. S.’ to your father at the door. Silence permeates the room as you turn and let your feet dangle from the bed, your eyes focusing on the lying form of Shanks. 

“Dad,” you start. “I know you don't want to talk about this, and I will respect your wishes, but just hear my opinion, you don't have to say anything!” You add and your father takes a deep breath but doesn't say anything so you take that as consent for you to continue. “You're young and very active. These episodes keep you from living a normal, fulfilling life. Dr. Trafalgar said that the benefits are far more than the risks and I think you should consider the surgery.”

The door opens up and Kaya comes in with a bright hello and a smile. “Think about it, dad.” You finish as Kaya stands at your side with a tray of equipment to relieve you of all the paraphernalia attached to your body. 

“So, how are we feeling?” She asks you as she swiftly disconnects the empty IV from your arm. 

You sigh and give her a lopsided smile. “I'm feeling better, Kaya, thank you.”

“Aaaaaand?” She giggles at you and your brows scrunch at her. “Dr. Trafalgar?”

You feel your cheeks grow hot, even if you will them not to. “He's very competent. He explained to me everything about my father's condition. He's very professional. I'm impressed.” As you admit this, you realise that maybe you should apologise to him for your earlier behaviour but maybe he's with another patient now. 

“That's not where I was going.” She pouts at you. “He's single, you know?”

You wince as she takes out the needle in your vein and puts a bandaid over it. “That's… okay, I guess.” You don't really know what to say. Kaya seems to be trying to set you up, but you really don't want to think about men at this moment. 

“You're impossible!” She mutters your name as she shakes her head and removes the melted ice pack from your ankle. “There, you're done. I'll take care of your father and you both can leave.”

-*-

Penguin and Shachi insisted on taking your father to the car themselves and you were at the desk with Kaya, settling the payment and documents. You were exhausted. Physically and mentally. The news about Shanks had left you preoccupied and you were having trouble processing. 

As Kaya finished inserting some data on the computer, you sighed deeply and pressed the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb, closing your eyes and trying to suppress the growing throb in your head. 

Suddenly, you feel a presence on your side as a deep voice fills the air. “Are you feeling well?”

Opening your eyes and forcing a weary smile on your lips you slightly nod. “Just the culmination of all the exciting events of today, I guess. A throbbing headache.” You shrug. 

Dr. Trafalgar takes out a set of keys from his pocket and goes behind Kaya opening one of the cabinets and taking out two pills from one container. Then he goes to the water dispenser and fills a cup. 

“Give me your hand.” You open your palm as he sets the pills there, lightly brushing his long fingers against your skin. “Take them. It will relieve the pressure on your head.” You set the pills in your mouth. “Water.” He hands the cup to you and you drink it. Then he reaches into his pocket and takes out a wrapped onigiri. “Then eat this.” You reply with a meek ‘okay’. “Good girl.”

He smirks and you nearly choke to death on another sip of water. Then you burst out laughing and you notice that the smirk is still adorning his lips. Surprisingly, he laughs along with you and you are forced to admit that the way his deep voice slurred with the words ‘good girl’ made your knees buckle and your body tingle in very unholy places. 

“I'm sorry.” You start, as soon as the laughter dies down. “For overreacting earlier.”

“It's alright. I will blame your reaction on your abnormal state.” He says cheekily and you smirk back at him. 

“By the way, do you carry all your fainting patients in bridal style?”

He scratches the back of his head and looks down, seemingly embarrassed. “Just the cute ones.” The blush spreads from your cheeks to your nose and you're left speechless. Where had the stoic doctor gone? There seemed to be a cheeky flirt in his stead, did he have a twin?

“Thank you, Dr. Trafalgar, for everything.” You decide to finish the conversation there since you're liking it way too much, which can turn very dangerous. 

He nods. “It's Law.” You raise your brow at him. “My name, call me Law.”

“Law. Thanks.” His smirk turns into a slight smile that traps your gaze as you breathe slowly. Single, right? How? 

Kaya’s soft harumph seems to wake you both from your trance and Law excuses himself with work he has to do. “Don't be a stranger.” He adds and then wishes you and your father well before leaving. You sigh as you turn to Kaya, who's watching you with a knowing look and a very silly smile. 

“This was rom/com happening in real life, I swear. Girl, I'm dying here. You need to go on a date with him!” She squeals. “I don't think I've ever heard him laugh!”

“I'm not going on any date, Kaya.” You say, deadpan as you accept the receipts she hands you. “I'm off men at the moment, thank you very much.”

“Yeah we all heard your father. Sorry about your fiancé thing… Though maybe it was better to find out before the wedding actually happened!”

You nod. You couldn't agree more, actually. “I'm going to go now. Dad and I both need rest.”

You and Kaya exchange phone numbers, not wanting to fall out of touch with her, and wave goodbye. The exhaustion is taking its toll on you and you still have to try and convince your father to agree to the surgery. Maybe you'll leave that fight to another day, though. 

As you walk to the truck you unwrap the onigiri and take a small bite. It tastes homemade. Delicious. 

As scrumptious as Dr. Trafalgar Law, actually. 

No, nope. Not gonna happen. You shake your head as you take your seat ready to face the challenge of driving with a stick yet again. And somehow, between driving with a stick and trying to avoid thinking about Dr. Law, the first one seems like an easier challenge.

[torialefay]

☀️ Everyday Idol 🌙 (Chapter 1)

✨ possible bangchan x reader (f), possible jungkook x reader (f); (however, this is a bangchan-focused fic)

✨ friends to lovers? possible love triangle? future angst and smut??? definitely fluff.

✨ summary: JYP Entertainment launches a new show and y/n somehow gets recruited. Even though she doesn’t particularly care about the outcome of the show, she does particularly care about one of the artists she met: Chris from Stray Kids. Does Chris feel the same or will a potential relationship with one of his friends overcome what y/n feels for him?

✨ author’s notes: this is my first ever post, yay! i know i have a lot to improve on, so bear with me as i figure out all of the fun stuff. leaving this as a stand alone for now until i find out if anyone is interested in this becoming a series. any feedback is super helpful! taking suggestions as well 💜

✨ warnings: cursing from time to time. gets a little emotional towards the middle. that should be about it hehe.

“Holy shit.” You stared down at your phone. A notification highlighted in tones of pink, yellow, and purple clued you into the fact quickly that it had been an Instagram notification. But the words you were reading seemed to not register.

Message request from abcedfghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz.

Wait, hold up. That’s weird. There’s no way this is his real account… Hold on.

You hurriedly clicked on the notification to open the app. It brought up a white screen with a short message surrounded by the grey Instagram text bubble.

Hey! I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime before you go back? We can do whatever you want. I’d just like to see you again.

You hurriedly screened your eyes back to the top of the page. In bold letters: JungKook. Right underneath, the username sprawled again: abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz.

You clicked the name and went to their profile. As bright as the sky and as plain as day, a blue checkmark next to the username. What the fuck?! There’s no way. You felt your heart start to race and your eyes shot up, looking to see who was around. You went back to the message, clicked again, and sure enough, it took you back to the same verified account. You felt your breathing start to quicken and the nerves set in. The nerves- what were they from? Excitement? Nervousness? Confusion? A mixture of them all?

“Oh God, what do I do?” You whispered to yourself while shooting your head up. Skittish all of a sudden, you examined your surroundings. You had been in the JYPE dance practice room. Light wood-colored vinyl flooring laid underneath your feet, while red walls surrounded you all the way to the ceiling, where a huge JYPE logo was attached and acted as the bright overhead lighting. You still aren’t really sure how you ended up here. Well, I guess you were, but you still couldn’t believe it. One minute, you were on a 4-week vacation to Korea, and the next, you were here- standing in a practice room for JYP Entertainment.

Merely 2 weeks ago, you had been walking along one of the busiest streets in downtown Seoul with your friend Anna. The two of you had been inseparable for the past 2 years, meeting each other in medical school in the States and relying on each other and your friend group to get you through every waking moment of it. From exam study sessions to making sure the other had woken up in time to make it to the lab, you wouldn’t find one of you without the other. Which is why you were extremely thankful that both you AND Anna were politely paused on the side of the street, being offered the opportunity of a lifetime. JYP Entertainment planned to make a new show, Everyday Idol. The concept of the show was to recruit everyday people- people in various different jobs with various different lives- to spend one week as a JYP trainee. After 2 or 3 weeks, a performance would be held. It was speculated even that JYP himself would be at the finale to make evaluations and possibly ask a select few to continue their training at JYPE. That part of it is still hearsay. No one knows what happens after the final evaluation, but it didn’t matter to you anyways. Both you and Anna had another calling- one in the medical field. You weren’t here to become an idol. You weren’t even here because you particularly liked singing and dancing. You were just here for the experience of it all… and maybe also a little because you had heard that JYP had some very handsome artists who would be involved in the training, judging, and making of the show. You told yourself that was just a bonus, but let’s be honest, it was really the deciding factor of whether you would go through with this or not. You never expected though to meet Jungkook as a friend of one of the JYP artists, but again, that was also just a bonus.

So now, here you stood. A confused mess, darting eyes across the JYPE practice room that you had finally started to feel comfortable with. One final glance at your phone. Where was Anna? You had to tell someone, right? Talk to someone before you did or said anything crazy. Flights of ideas ran through your head. You started to walk toward the exit door as fast as you possibly could without anyone thinking there was something seriously wrong. Anna had to be around here somewhere. At the cafeteria, more than likely. You two had gotten separated a short while ago, but you were sure that’s where she’d be. You paced hurriedly down the long corridor and down the 2 flights of stairs to the level holding the cafeteria. Upon getting there, a quick scouring over the room showed the strawberry blond waves of Anna’s head at a long table. She was seated at the end next to Felix. Felix was a member of Stray Kids and was also Anna’s mentor throughout her week of being a trainee. The 3 of you, well 4 really (counting your own mentor, Changbin) had gotten really close. You were introduced to the other Stray Kids members as well, as you had all gone out for drinks. Some members you got closer to than others. Like Chris for example. You felt so lucky to have really cool and down to earth guys to help you along your way. They were so much fun and made hard things seem a lot easier. But no matter how awesome they were, they weren’t Anna. You zoned in on her and quickly made your way over.

“I am quite literally not doing that,” you heard Anna say, while side-eyeing Felix.

“But think about how memorable it would be. They would never forget you at least. And as your mentor, it is my job to make you stand out during the finale. I mean, just think about it,” Felix was wide-eyed, making a rainbow motion with one hand across the sky.

You interrupted the conversation by arriving at the table. “What are we thinking about?” You asked, with a faint panic sound in your voice and out of breath.

Anna just rolled her eyes again. “Go on,” she said, head dipping down to motion toward Felix.

A huge grin spread across Felix’s face. You could tell he was about to break character and start laughing any second now. “Well, I was thinkinggg, you know since you guys are gonna be doing ‘Charmer’ for your group performance, that Anna and maybe some others should draw on some fake abs since we have to show ours too.” Felix laughed and waited for your expression. You relaxed into the joke, thinking about how iconic it really would be.

An annoyed smile crept across your mouth. Finally giving an eye roll of your own, you responded, “As much as I do think it is a main selling point of the performance… yeah, I’m with Anna. No way in hell I’m doing that.” You looked at Felix with raised eyebrows and laughed. Thinking about it, Felix really is such a cool guy. I’m glad he’s Anna’s mentor, and now, a friend.

“Touché,” he grinned and looked down. Damn y/n, hold up. You almost forgot you’re supposed to be panicking right now.

“Anna, I need you for just a sec,” you blurted out quickly, while grabbing her by the arm and elbow at the same time. She stood up swiftly and you rushed a few steps to the next table over. Although it was a long table, no one else was sitting there, and you thought it would be fine. You hurriedly plopped down into the seat, pulling her with you. “Look who the fuck just messaged me,” you excitedly tried to keep your voice down.

Anna took the phone and focused on it, squinting her eyes. Again, you could tell that she was clicking the account’s username and icon. Then re-reading the message, back and forth, back and forth again. You saw her expression go from confusion to utter shock, jaw dropping open. She set the phone down face up. “Holy shit y/n!!!” she all but squeeled. It was loud, and you could tell people were now looking your way.

“Shhh,” you scolded her, bringing both of your heads down closer to the table and establishing a low tone. “No one can know. I do NOT want this getting out, okay?” You paused and felt your heart skip a beat. “Anna, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t know what to do?!” She borderline yelled yet again, raising her body up in the air with her proclamation.

“Anna!” You hush-yelled at her, bringing her body back down again. “Please, for the love of God, we have to be quiet. No, I don’t know what to do.”

“Bitchhh, message him back and say ‘hell yes!!!’. If you don’t, I swear I will.” You could tell she was so excited for you and she could not keep the cheesiest smile from spreading ear to ear across her face. Her eyes were lit up.

“I just don’t understand,” you spoke quietly. “He was literally such an asshole when I met him. Just arrogant and rude. Thinks he’s hot shit. He made me feel like I was the most irrelevant person ever. Like why is he even messaging me? I genuinely do not understand.” You had only met Jungkook a couple of days prior, through your new friend Chris from Stray Kids. They had been hanging out in Chris’ living room when you had gone to pick something up from Changbin. The interaction between the two of you was brief, but long enough for you to know that Jungkook was not your cup of tea. Now Chris on the other hand… Chris was something else. Chris was the exact opposite of Jungkook. The fact that they could even hang out in the same crowd baffled you. You could think of 100 ways to describe Chris, but no single word felt like it did him justice. On second thought, ‘perfect’ might do it. Did you hope that HE would be the one sending you a message wanting to hang out? Maybe. Did you have somewhat of a crush on him? DEFINITELY maybe. Okay, definitely. But you didn’t mean to. And how you ended up with that conclusion in the first place… Well, it’s a long story:

The way that JYPE had Everyday Idol set up, you would start preparing for the show 1 week before the actual filming and training process started. You had to come to the company building everyday to go over contracts, meet your mentors, tour the buildings, all of that good stuff. Although that was only an orientation week, it was one that was very important. You got to meet several artists and make so many connections. Since both your and Anna’s mentors were from Stray Kids, naturally, you met the other members and became friends with them as well. They were a super friendly group of guys and made you feel much more comfortable about going through this whole process. Each member had their own quirks, which you learned at a group dinner where every member came with their mentee. Some much-needed drinks were downed that night, with resultant memories made. One thing you learned for sure- Koreans LOVED their drinking games, and they really did bring people closer together. Well, at least it did for you. It brought you closer to Chris.

Chris wasn’t always the drinking type. He was overtly responsible for the wellbeing of Stray Kids after all. But that night was a night to cut loose and get to know new people. You and Chris bonded almost instantly. First, you found out that he had a dog, Berry, who happened to be the same breed as your own. You cut up all night about how the 2 dogs sounded like something out of a children’s book- “The Adventures of Berry and Bella”- Bella, your baby Cavalier of course. He showed you Berry’s pictures, and you showed him Bella’s. They looked almost identical. When Chan made a remark about them being long-lost sisters, you felt your breath get taken away for a split second. You being Bella’s mom and Chris being Berry’s dad… it sounded like some “The Parent Trap” shit. You were feeding into it though. You jokingly asked if he called her “Barold like Harold” and Berry was just a nickname. You later found out that he grew up loving classic rock, just like you. Apparently he got it from his parents, just like you. Minute after minute, you kept finding more similarities and never-ending things to talk about. By around 2-3 AM, everyone else was ready to head out and go to bed. But for you, it felt like time had flown by. You silently hoped that Chris had felt the same way- that he had felt the same spark in the conversations. That he had held onto every word you said, just like you did to him. That he was desparately hoping that the night could last for just 5 more minutes. That he wished you would invite him over just to chat some more.

But these were things you could only hope for. You knew your place and you knew that it had to be called a night. You said your goodbyes and gave Chris a hug. You’re not sure if you imagined it, but the hug seemed extra long and extra warm. You tried not to read too far into it... That was hardly the end though. You two became friends, joking with each other whenever you ran into the other, like at his apartment that day with Jungkook, and always mentioning to the other that a group of you were going to dinner if the other wanted to join. All casually though. It didn’t matter that you found him extremely handsome. You never went out of your way to seek out Chris again, nor did he you. That is, until you found yourself as the last of the new Everyday Idols cast to remain in the JYPE building. Anna had gone home early, having a migraine but already having finished up what she needed for the day. You finished the day out until the others left, staying back to talk on the phone with a friend. It was Sammie, one of the girls in the close-knit friend group with you and Anna. There were 6 of you who had become the best of friends during medical school. And although you had the closest reliance on Anna, the other girls were about as close to you as any people could be. You had all consistently cried together, stayed up all night together, and hyped each other up, not letting anyone quit for the past 2 years. The kind of mental toll that medical school puts on people is pure psychological torture, and you felt sure that none of you could have withstood it without having each other.

“Hi Sammie!!! How are you?!” You were so happy to see her name pop up…. No response. You heard a lot of background noise and looked down to see that instead, it had been a group call. You were on the line with Sammie and Anna, as well as your other 3 best friends. Sniffles was all you could distinctly hear. The light lit up around her name, showing that the noise was coming from her line.

“Sammie, are you okay?” You heard Anna ask reassuringly. There was worry in her voice. You could tell that Sammie was trying to muster up her voice, but nothing was coming out.

“Sammie, please tell us what’s going on. Is everything alright?” You questioned her. There was definitely worry now in your voice too, but how could there not be?

“Guys, I just got my score back. I didn’t pass,” Sammie cried into the phone. You felt your heart break. You had all just taken the first level of the USMLE, the first exam in the series for your medical degree. You all knew Sammie had been struggling. She had to move her test date back by a month. But when everyone else had gotten their passing results, you knew Sammie’s passing score would could back the following month. I guess it turns out that it didn’t. And you all knew what that meant. Your throat got caught. Dead silence…

“Oh Sammie, no. I’m so so sorry,” you whispered in a hushed voice, straining to get the words out. You felt water welling up in your eyes. You sat down on the floor, criss-crossed, ready to settle on the phone for a while and braced yourself for the rest of the conversation. Your back was propped up against the wall-length mirror, but your entire upper body slouched over so as to shield your face from the world. All you heard on the other line was sniffles… still.

Finally, your friend Nia broke the silence. “It’s okay buddy, we are still so proud of you. We all tried so hard. It will be okay. Things just have to get shifted back a bit is all. It will be okay, I promise.” You made a mental note of how Nia said ‘things just have to get shifted back a bit.’ We all knew what that meant. Sammie was automatically going to be put on probation now. She would also automatically not be allowed to continue on with the other third years… She would not be allowed to continue on with us. If she failed again, she would be kicked out of medical school entirely, any hope of becoming a doctor shot out the window.

You could hear a rustling noise coming through on Sammie’s line, and you knew it was the sound of her using the sleeves of her sweater to wipe away her tears. “No, I know. It will be okay. I’m just- I just-“ you could hear the stuffiness in her voice and how close she was to breaking. “I can’t lose you guys,” she choked out, letting out a low, slow cry once it had been said. That one got you. ‘I can’t lose you guys’ rang in your head. You lifted your head up and all the way back, taking in a deep breath and blinking slowly to try and halt any tears that were trying to escape. You needed to be strong. For Sammie. Let her know that it was okay- that we would be okay. Things would be different, but we would always be friends. Hushed cries and sniffles could be heard from the other lines, with your other friends intermittently offering up their words of comfort. Once the line had gone silent for a moment, everyone sat in solitude. Not a word uttered, not a falling tear heard. Even though you wanted to believe that nothing would change, that you could all continue on the same as you had been for the past 2 years, you knew the reality of it. You knew how brutal medical school was, and how wrapped up everyone HAS to be in their own life and at their own level if they have any chance of making it. You know this because your friend group of 6 started out as 9. People just simply did not make it. People failed out, got so far behind that they couldn’t catch up, struggled so badly with their mental health that they couldn’t continue foreward, you name it. With Sammie risking that, and definitely falling behind to the class behind you, there was no denying that things would not be the same. It’s an unspoken rule that you cannot say that though. It’s an unspoken rule that you have to be cheerful at a time like this. Tears were streaming down each of your cheeks thinking about having to move on without her and how her heart must be breaking to see all of her friends continuing, leaving her by herself..

“We’re never gonna leave you behind, okay?” you cried out, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. You would try your very best. She cannot be one more who doesn’t make it. Your heart wouldn’t be able to handle that. You felt so guilty. Tears of sorrow were now replaced with tears of guilt as you covered your mouth to try to muffle any noise coming out. This continued until you felt numb. Until everyone on the line felt numb.

After another minute, everyone had soothed themselves and were starting to offer more encouragement. A weight of emotional exhaustion could be felt over the phone. You each ended the call with how much you love each other, miss each other, and promised each other that nothing would change. Even though you knew it would. With one final sniff and wipe to your cheeks, you ended the call. It took just about everything in you to stand up from the floor and stabilize yourself. You stood there for a minute, just trying to look straight ahead and get your footing. You gathered your things and exited the practice room into a long hallway. You headed first to get a cup of water, all too aware of how dehydrated the crying had made you. Once you reached the machine in the break room, you swiftly but shakily grabbed a cup and pressed the button to let the water down. With your other hand, you cupped your forehead and leaned over onto the same side’s elbow, hoping to get some pressure on your head and to get some congestion out. You felt pitiful- looked pitiful too.

Inhale, hold… Exhale, hold… Inhale, hold… Exhale, hold…

“Long day?” You heard a familiar Aussie voice chuckle from behind you. You leaned up now that your cup was done filling and turned around to face Chris. He had been stood there, just gazing towards you with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black sweatpants. You figured that must have been his signature look- a black hoodie and black pants. Come to think of it, you didn’t recall ever seeing him in something else. The moment he saw your face, how puffy and red you looked, his expression completely changed. Did he look worried?

“Yeah a little bit,” you tried to say with a sheepish smile, but a small crack came out. It was okay enough. Holding firmly on your cup, you looked down, took a long drink of the water, then lowered your hand again to start your trek out of the building. As you stepped past Chris, your arm brushed the fabric of his hoodie.

“Y/n?” He questioned abruptly, making you turn halfway around at a slow speed. You popped your head to the side a bit and looked him in the eyes but couldn’t muster up the energy to verbalize a response. You stood there waiting for him to continue, still with a worried expression evident on his face. “Are you okay?” He stared a hole right through your eyes.

You weren’t. Not really. But you didn’t know Chris enough to dump any of that on him. He’s here late too; you were sure he was busy and had plenty of work to do. Even though you did like to vent and talk things out to relieve the stress of it, that wasn’t something to do with someone who doesn’t deeply know you. That will be an activity for you and Anna once you get to the hotel. With all the strength you had, you lifted your head up high to meet his gaze. You lightly bit your cheek and feverishly nodded your head up and down. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Shallow breath in and out. “Thanks though.” You offered another low smile and turned on your heels to leave.

“I’m serious, you know. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be in my studio. I’ve been through this before too, yeah?” You heard him call out behind you as you walked. It made you hault and think on what he said. ‘I’ve been through this before too.’ … Oh, he thinks you’re upset over the training process- over the show and the practices you’re having to do and classes you’re having to take. You wanted to do well, yes, but you couldn’t care less about the outcome of the show. You didn’t want to be an idol- you probably wouldn’t even take the offer if it was given to you. ‘Not that it would be.’ But you had another calling, one that you loved and that you deeply cared about. One that made you feel like you made a difference in the world and could actually help people. Sammie had that calling too, or that same feeling at least. You weren’t sure if her chance was gone now.

“It’s not about the show or the training. I just- I’m sorry, I don’t think you’d understand,” you quietly muttered, only half turning back. The exhaustion and lack of emotion in your response was evident. You started making your way again toward the company building’s exit door.

“Try me,” you heard Chris call, sounding half stern but half playful.

You paused for a long moment, contemplating. You had to admit, it was a bit tempting. “Fine,” you gave in. You crossed your arms on your chest after you had turned your body around. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you’d been holding in and walked forward towards Chris. “Can we go to your studio?”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“It just feels like I keep losing the people that I care about. I feel so hopeless, like there’s nothing I can do to help them,” you were lightly crying, holding onto a pillow and looking down so as to shield your face. “And I know it’s ridiculous. And I know it’s not my responsibility to make sure that everyone makes it through. But that’s my friend, you know? And I know that she can do it, she just needed more time. When she pushed back her testing date I told her to call me if she needed any help�� God, why didn’t she just call me? Why didn’t I call her? I knew she was struggling, but I didn’t bother to do anything… Didn’t do anything to help… I mean I know it’s not totally on me, but GOD I feel like I’m responsible. We always worked through everything together for studying. She was the reason I even made it through the first two years. And now it feels like I’m abandoning her and there’s nothing I can even do about it. Fuck, I just feel… I feel so guilty. So so guilty. And it’s like, if this happened to her, then when is it my time? Ya know? Like she is so smart. Smarter than me. I just, I don’t see how I can do this,” you kept rambling and rambling. Chris had led you a few doors down to his studio, where you both had plopped onto his grey leather couch. Each of your bodies were turned toward the other, one leg up on the couch, so close to touching one another’s knees. You didn’t mean to ramble on like this. Honestly, you knew you were emotional, but not to this point. Feelings and emotions came out that you didn’t even register you had yet. Guilt being a big one. Chris didn’t say anything while you were talking. He just sat patiently, nodding along to what you had to say. He looked into your eyes with such conviction as you confided in him, looking like he was trying to search for something there that he hadn’t yet found. Once he realized you were done with what you had to say, he took a breath in and began with his words.

“You know, I felt like that too before,” he said, scooting in slightly to bring his face closer to yours and lowering his voice. “It’s not so different, being a trainee and being in medical school. You kill yourself trying so hard each day, only to see the people you love not make it. It hurts. It hurts a lot.” He tried to ignore the fact that his voice was going in and out, plagued by a crack that he couldn’t stifle. His brow began to furrow as asense of seriousness came over him. “And it makes you turn cold, to want to hide away and recluse those emotions. Trust me, I get it. And I’m sorry you’re having to go through that. I’m sorry to your friend as well.” His eyes were big, something was in there- it looked like genuine hurt.

Tears were welling in your eyes. You broke eye contact with Chris to look up and over to the corner of the room. To look at anything else so you didn’t start letting tears stream again. You clicked your toungue, then ran it across your teeth before taking a gulp. Once you had calmed yourself to the point you didn’t think you would cry anymore, you looked back down to a sweetly, patiently waiting Chris, who still had just as much concern on his face. “What do I do? What did you do when you felt like this?”

You could see him almost smile in a way. Or blush maybe. His eyes lit up the teeniest bit. You could see it. There had been new look on his face. Was it endearment? Whatever it was, he must have liked when people asked him for his advice or trusted his judgement. The expression was fleeting, and he went back to his prior worried face. “There’s nothing you can do besides try to learn to be okay with it. I know that’s probably not an answer that helps very much, but there really isn’t much you can do to fix it, yeah? It will be okay.” You had looked down by this point, so Chris leaned down to meet your eye level, locking you in. He extended his right index and middle fingers to hold the bottom of your chin, slowly but delicately bringing your face back up to normal with his head following right along. He never broke eye contact. He started to whisper. “Hey, you’ve done nothing wrong. Sometimes things happen, things that we can’t change. And if we spend our whole lives worrying about those things, then we will never move on to what we are meant to do. I know it must be hard seeing your friend not move on with you. And I know how discouraging it feels to think that it’s just a matter of time before you’re next. But you have to keep your head up and keep going. You can still be a good friend. You can still be a supporter and a helper. You can still be a confidant. But you can’t forget that this is your dream too. And as harsh as it sounds, sometimes you’ve just got to do what you’ve got to do to stay alive… Whether that means push your feelings aside or not. You still have your other friends to go through this with, yeah? Let them be your rock, and you be theirs. I can’t promise you that you’ll all make it through together. But I can promise you that if everyone works hard enough, they will make it through… You will make it through.” You had a few stray tears rolling down your face with Chris’ words. Somewhat because of the situation, yes, but the words did help. They made you feel reassured. More than anything, they made you feel seen. Made you feel like someone understands the pain you felt, even if it was a bit ridiculous to be so worked up. A small smile crept up. You looked down, then back up at Chris with an approving nod.

“You’re right,” you took a deep breath out. Your hands reached for your eyes to wipe at them and then went right back down to your lap. The mood had quickly shifted in the room from something serious and uptight to calm and relaxed. “Thank you Chris, really. Even just letting me get everything out made me feel better, but I do really appreciate your advice. I really value the way that you think. Really. Thank you.”

Chris blushed. He reached for the back of his neck to hold it, feeling obviously shy. “Don’t say that,” he looked down, smiling. “It’s no problem.” He put his arm down and looked up. “You feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you chuckled. You instinctively went in for a hug, which Chris reciprocated. The moment he locked his arms around your back, he felt so warm… so comforting. It was like his warm words had been personafied into an action, the everyday expression of a hug. Something about this moment just felt right. You leaned in even closer, deepening the hug. Chris picked up on your cues and gently reciprocated, pushing you closer into his chest as well. He started to rub your back, making contact with your hair and neck, ever so slightly. You let out a small sigh and melted in. You felt his breath hitch, his heart stopping for just one second while he seemed to tense up. Just for a split second though. He soothed down into your grasp as well and started to rock into the hug, rubbing larger circles onto your back. You stayed like that for a few more moments, just enjoying each other’s body heat and the calm silence that remained in the building since you were the only two left. You wished you could stay like that for the next hour, but then again, you knew if you didn’t pull away soon, things would start to feel awkward. You slowly started to pull your arms back and away from his back and waist, dragging your hands lightly along the black hoodie as you went. Chris matched your actions and untangled his limbs from around your body, pulling away from your side and upper back. It was slow. It was meaningful. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, but he continued to slowly drag his hands away until one was resting on your waist and the other on the opposing side of your neck between your ear and jaw. For just a split second, he held his position, then slowly pulled his hands completely off of you. He smiled but looked down while pulling his body back, from only inches away to now a couple of feet.

You returned the smile and looked down to your hands folded in your lap. “I appreciate you Chris. I really really do. I know you’re super busy, so it means a lot to me that you’d take the time to listen to me. Hopefully one day, I can return the favor.”

“I’ll never be too busy,” he said under his breath while still looking down, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. “People like us, we’ve gotta stick together, yeah? The world is hard sometimes, but we can lean on each other to make it a bit easier… Plus, we’ve gotta stick it out so Berry and Bella can have some play dates the next time you come back,” he giggled and looked at you endearingly. Something about that comment made your heart swell. “You will come back, won’t you?” He raised his eyebrow and gave you and over-dramatic expression, like he was wanting to get a laugh out of you. This man lol.

“Of course I’ll come back. Our long-lost daughters will be dying to meet each other, I’m sure.” You cracked a smile. A genuine smile. “Plus, people like us have to stick together, remember?” You lightheartedly asked, mirroring what he had just told you.

“Yeah, yeah we do.” He smiled and looked straight into your eyes. You could have sworn he was closer now than he had been a few seconds ago. Or maybe you wanted him to be. You could have reached out, pulled him into another hug. It would have felt natural. Well, to you at least. You didn’t want to out-hug Chris for the night. Plus, I’m sure you were somewhat swayed by how handsome he is, which factored into it. You shifted your position back slightly.

“I better get out of here and get back to the hotel. Anna thought I was headed back like 30 minutes ago. I know she’s probably as stressed as me about everything going on,” you stood up off of the couch. Chris followed suit as you shuffled past him toward the door.

“Tell her what we talked about and hopefully it can calm her down some too.” Chris caught your waist with his hand as you went to open the door. “Do you want me to walk with you back to your hotel? It’s late, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything.” You turned to face him. What a cutie. He was probably just saying it to be nice. Also probably because you were still a distraught foreign woman about to wonder the streets alone after midnight. Still cute though.

“That’s okay. It’s the opposite direction from your apartment anyways, so I wouldn’t want to put you out that much.” You knew from meeting up with Changbin at their apartment that it would probably take around 30 minutes for him to get back to his place if he accompanied you to yours. Just seemed like a bit much at this time of night.

“I know, but I promise I don’t mind.” … Wait hold up. ‘I know?’ How did he know where your hotel was? You didn’t think you’d mentioned it. Old conversations started to scan through your mind, trying to think of any time you may have mentioned it to him. Nothing you could think of. Maybe you had drank too much the night everyone was together. Maybe a bunch of other Everyday Idol contestants were staying at the same place. Whatever, not a big deal.

“It’s okay Chris, really. But thank you. That’s very kind,” you smiled warmly at him. He took it openly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course!” He exclaimed, sounding a bit off. Almost… nervous? One more quick exchange of smiles and you were off. Once you had reached the cold air that hit you outside of the confines of the JYPE building, you silently thanked yourself for telling Chris you’d be alright on your own. You didn’t want him to see you with your teeth chattering, lips getting chapped, and nose about to run from the cold. The only thing that kept you thawed while on the trek back was thinking about Chris’ kindness. The fact that he even offered to walk you to your hotel made your cheeks heat up. Did he mean anything else by that? You were sure not. He’s just a good guy. But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander just a little bit. I wish he was my good guy. Maybe he could think that too?

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

And that is why, here you were, arguing with your best friend over whether or not you should respond to a message from Jeon Jungkook, of all people, wanting to see you. I mean, you weren’t blind. Jungkook was cute, yes. But having his first words to you be: “Heyyy there,” while smirking and definitely looking at your tits instead of your face, didn’t exactly make you want to see him again. How could that even be an option when you could only think about Chris? Sweet, sweet Chris.

“Okay, so he was a little bit of an asshole,” Anna started. “But you literally only talked to him for like 2 minutes. How do you know he’s really like that? What if he was just putting up a front trying to seem cool? Obviously he’s interested in you, I mean he Instagram messaged you for God’s sake. I’d bet he was just nervous and didn’t know how to act around you. I think you should give him another chance.” You pondered this for a second. Jungkook was weird around you for sure. But knowing what you now knew, you guessed it could be from putting up a front with you. You guessed that could be a possibility. The more you thought about it, the more you thought Anna’s points were valid. What about Chris though?

“I guess you have a point,” you gave in. Anna looked at you with a smirk and an “I-told-you-so” expression. “But even if that was the case, I don’t… I’m stuck.” You leaned down closer to the table and lowered your voice even more, as if it were possible. “I think I have a little crush on Chris.”

“It’s about fucking time you said it!” Anna laughed, her voice growing louder. “I just knew you and Chris had something there since the night we all met for drinks. Ahhhh my bestie has a little crush!!!” She reached out to grab your cheeks. You turned red and swatted her hands away, pulling them down onto the table, bringing the rest of your body with her.

“Keep it down,” you scolded her. “It’s a one-sided thing. I don’t want anyone to know please, it’s low-key mortifying,” you scoffed while saying it, looking around the room to see if Anna’s wonderfully “robust” voice had grabbed the attention of some wondering ears. You didn’t see anything. “But even if it is one sided, I don’t want to ruin my chance before I even get one. Jungkook and Chris are friends. Surely, he’d find out.”

“Okay… So let him.”

“Huh?” You questioned, not sure what she was getting at.

“Let Chris get jealous.” She was being so serious. “It’s not like Chris has tried to make any kind of move on you since you’ve seen him. And neither have you. I mean you literally saw him the other day when you met JK and he said absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. In my book, JK is at least trying. Just go for it. See what happens.” You contemplated her words. “Maybe Chris will get jealous and confess his love to you,” she said taunting, opening her eyes really big to tease you. “Or maybe… maybe you’ll find out Jungkook is actually a pretty cool guy… And a guy who’s really into you and willing to make a move at that.” Damn, she is really coming through with some good points today.

“I’ll think about it,” you smiled back. You looked down to check the message again, only to realize what time it was. You both needed to get going to a meeting. You motioned down for Anna to look at the time.

“Come on, we better go.” You both stood up and turned to walk toward the exit. You passed by Felix’s table on the way through and looked over to give him a smile and wave, so as to say goodbye. Instead of the usual wave back, he just looked at you and smiled, brows raised high on his face, almost teasingly. He gave you the expression of knowing something that he shouldn’t. Or maybe HEARING something that he shouldn’t. OH SHIT. Your eyes shifted to Anna, wide as they’d ever been; however, she didn’t seem to notice and walked along without a care in the world. Your eyes darted back to Felix for a split second, hoping he’d looked away and you were misreading things. Surely you were just paranoid. His eyes met yours, still with the same gleefull smile. He let out a small chuckle, held the eye contact for one more second, and looked down at his phone, suddenly typing away. FUCK.

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✨Continue to ➡️ Chapter 2

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[littlelillycatsworld]

weight loss breakdown (for once not a mental one impressive ik)

as promised heres my weight loss breakdown. I have awful brain fog words aren't working properly (using any and all brain power on English rn) and it's a bit all over the place please be patient with me I have most definitely forgotten some stuff I'll update when I remember

this is not healthy this is what works for me I know the limits of my body you are your own person please look after yourself and don't compare yourself to me. I'm a professional ballerina and ex-taekwondow artist

please be polite don't leave unsolicited advice if I need or want it I'll ask and right now I DONT.

I'm not suggesting that anyone should attempt to fallow this since this is actually insane

DRINKS

I drink lemon honey water or tea for breakfast most days depending on how much calorie dread I have (does that make sense?)

I will only allow myself to drink water, tea or diet coke/zero or ultra monster throughout the day

MEALS

OMAD when possible budget is 900 I rarely ever make it close to my budget

I'll only intentionally eat dinner unless forced otherwise. I must burn off whatever I can from dinner since I don't have classes that late

some days it's completely unavoidable and I have to eat snacks due to outside pressure like friends and family or my manager (he's apparently hell bent on keeping my ass alive)

binges happen we (I) acknowledge them we (me) move

if I feel faint when In class nothing matters I WILL eat I cannot run the risk of hurting myself or my dance partner when it's him who will be the one who makes sure i dont hit the ground

META DAYS

meta days are important please take them!

I must allow myself 2 grace days a week and I try to be gentle with myself. (essentially I'm gentle parenting myself on these days)

I try not to fall into my normal over the top exercise routine since I still haven't figured out how to make these days my bitch

my cal budget is normally around 1400 for these days

EXERCISE

I must do 10k steps at least (normally much closer to 25k)

I start every day off with a mile run sometimes 2 (depending on how much I want to not exist and weather conditions)

i go to the gym at my dorm when weather conditions are bad or it's to cold for me I run on the treadmill it's not as mentally stimulating as outside but I don't like the rain ice or wind too much

i can be expected to be dancing for 8-9hrs on my longest day so for the most part I don't need to worry too much about forcing myself to burn calories but it gives me peace of mind I burn an estimated 4500cal these days (impossible to know for sure since 2 teachers don't allow activity trackers)

around 3000 on my normal days but again 2 teachers are a pain In my ass

I play just dance religiously at this point it takes me 2hrs to burn 500 I do this after dinner or twice a day on the weekends where possible.

I still practice taekwondo and go to a studio to do classes once a week but it's not as extreme as it used to be (no longer training 6 days a week and doing competitions)

WEIGHING

I weigh myself most days

I don't weigh myself during my meta days I don't need the added mental stress

I get weighed by my school once a week but only update my profile if there is a big difference either up or down (accountability and all that)

FASTS

I normally do 24hr since omad

I don't count my medication, gum, diet coke/zero tea or lemon honey water as breaking my fast. if this keeps me mentally stable then idk it doesn't count (politely eat a brick if you try to tell me otherwise)

I always try to get at least one longer fast a week normally after dinner on wednesday to Friday dinner sometimes I can make it to Saturday dinner it just depends on who's around to make me eat

if your wondering how I've survived this far all I can say is I'm a spiteful little bitch who's going to prove a whole list of people wrong

[mediumgayitalian]

previous chapter

———

“Take the exit here.”

“How come?” Nico asks, dutifully putting on his blinker and merging into the right lane. “We’re not even at half tank.”

Will clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s, uh, not for gas.”

A pause.

“Oh, Solace, you’re fucking kidding me.”

“I’m sorry!”

Nico throws his hands up, ignoring Will’s screech of both hands on the wheel, I value my life! “There is no possible way you have to piss already. You had half a slushie!”

“...Well.”

“William Andrew Solace, I swear to God.”

“I got distracted!” Will cries, eyes big and round as he pouts. “The Abstract Iron Centaur is a monument, okay, I forgot what the point of the rest stop was for.”

Nico groans. “I’m not sure you should be allowed to go to medical school. You’re going to forget a scalpel in someone’s lungs, or something.”

Immediately, he knows this is the wrong thing to say. The sheepish grin vanishes off Will’s face, replaced with something despairing, before it’s hastily shoved back on.

The winding road finally gives way to the advertised rest stop, partially obscured by a Welcome to Georgia sign with a modernist-style image of a peach that annoys him for no reason. We’re glad Georgia’s on your mind. (False. Georgia is never on his mind, except for how Will can’t say Georgia without slipping into his accent and Nico has to take that golden opportunity to mock him. And then die.)

“Right,” Will says finally. He forces a laugh. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then gets out of the car without so much as a word.

Nico watches him go. 

“Well,” he mutters to himself. “Shit.”

He waits in the car as long as he physically can, which is anything between thirty seconds and four business days. A glance at his watch informs him it’s closer to two minutes. 

He kicks a stone across the parking lot, debating the implications of searching for his friend. It hasn’t really been that long, so he’s not sure it’s socially appropriate, and then he wonders when the hell he started caring about being socially appropriate. They are friends, after all, because in a group icebreaker question about siblings in seventh grade, Nico had growled none, on the account that she was killed by a drunk driver when I was ten and Will had laughed, brightly and morbidly, and said hey, my brothers were murdered, too! Twinsies! and killed the vibe rather brilliantly for literally everybody else in the room. 

He gives into his impulse eventually, striding onto the surprisingly soft grass and looking, halfheartedly, around the spacious grounds (he’d decided searching the bathroom would be a touch too far). His mission gets sidetracked, however, because the heat is less oppressive under the shade of tall, weeping willows, and there’s a small breeze, and he is struggling to shove his various musings into the Repression Box where they belong. 

Will, starts one of said musings, has been acting weird as shit long before he showed up at his house in the middle of the night.

It had started around January? If he had to guess. But Will is always kind of weird in the winter, so he hadn’t thought much of it, just offered to break into his house more often so he didn’t feel too suffocated. The usual. But the strangeness had persisted through the spring – the sudden drops in mood, the hair-triggers to clam him up. Both of which are usually a Nico thing. Will, more often, just shoves all his negative emotions down to the bottom of his soul until he gets one half-mark wrong on a test and sobs himself sick about being useless while Nico stands guard outside the bathroom door, agonised, unsure how to help. And then the two of them never talk about it again. 

Over the last few months, things have been a little less balanced. 

“Hey.”

Nico jumps. Will stands slightly, shoulders still hunched slightly, but definitely less cagey than earlier. He holds out a cup of coffee Nico recognises as from a vending machine.

“Hi,” Nico says softly, smiling tentatively. He takes the coffee. It’s black, and too hot, just how he likes it.

“You are going to stain your teeth,” Will observes, as he always does.

“Bite me,” Nico responds, following the script.

A genuine smile pulls at his face.

“You ready to get back on the road?”

“Yep.”

They fall into step in their hike back to the Jeep – Nico hiked farther than he meant to. Will’s flip-flops slapping rhythmically against the packed dirt of the trail is a familiar sound, and it eases some of his own tension, putting a bit more prep in his step. When he glances quickly over, Will is breathing normally, shoulders slack, much calmer expression on his face.

“You should let me drive,” he says as they approach. “You’ve been behind the wheel since practically dawn; maybe you should take a nap or something.”

Nico shakes his head, waving a dismissive arm. Frowning slightly, Will acquiesces, climbing back into the passenger side.

“I’ve had two coffees and half a slushie,” he explains, resting his hand on the back of Will’s seat. He cranes his neck behind him, careful of the family walking an unleashed dog as he pulls out. “I’m good forever.”

“Caffeine doesn’t work on you,” Will points out.

Nico pauses. 

“...True.”

He hadn’t realise Will had noticed, actually. Although he supposes it’s not too surprising – Will has known him a long time, Will is observant, and Will generally enjoys lecturing people about anything he can get away with, up to and including their general health and safety. Nico, in all his bad choices, is a favourite target of his. He can probably recite his solo midnight speed driving from memory.

“It’s just –” Will stops, waiting until Nico’s safely merged back on the highway before continuing. “It’s three and a half hours ‘till we get to Atlanta, Neeks, and it’s already three-thirty. We’ll have to stop again for food, probably, at one point, and we’ll have to stop for food, soon, and who knows what the traffic will be like –”

Carefully passing the person going sixty in front of him, finally breaking into open road, Nico takes half an eye off the road and digs through the centre console.

“– I mean, if it’s bumper to bumper, then what? It’ll be rush hour soon, shit, I shoulda planned for that, shit, do we have a jerrycan? We should have a jerrycan, remind me to get a jerrycan for the trunk –”

Finally catching sight of the CD he’s looking for (and barely managing to swerve and avoid a massive pothole that would have for sure cut their trip short, but he managed, so take that, Reckless Driving Lecture Will that lives in his brain, who’s God now), he hands it to Will. Still actively stressing about literally nothing, he opens it, polishing the disc on habit and sliding it into the slot without so much as pausing. 

Nico smirks. 

Yeah, maybe he knows his friend, too.

“– I mean, just blankets and a first aid kit is not enough. Really, we should have some provisions in there. Oh, and rope, ‘cause what if we get stranded in the mountains –”

The radio clicks as it reads the disc, then, suddenly and without warning, the stereo rumbles with heavy bass and pounding beat.

Will cuts himself off. “Hey, is this –”

Nico smirks wider. He chances another look away from the road, just in time to watch a magnificent smile break across Will’s face, wide and a little crooked, showing all his molars – a real one, the one he gets when he’s caught off-guard, the one that makes his hands fluttery.

“You’re playing In The Zone!” he exclaims, laughing delightedly. “Without complaining!”

Bingo, Nico thinks. 

“Technically, I didn’t play shit.” He gestures at the empty CD case in Will’s hand. “You’re just like a hermit crab. I hand you things, you hold them.”

“Shut up.” But there’s no bite to the command, smile still stretching wide. If Nico looks, he can see the tiny snag of his barely crooked front tooth, but he doesn’t look, because he doesn’t care about that, obviously. He has his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel, fully focused.

Obviously. 

They do get into disgusting traffic. Will is distressed about it, up until someone cuts them off so closely they both nearly actually and genuinely die, and he is immediately lit up in a rage so incandescent Nico wonders if he will ever be able to look away from straining biceps and a clenched jaw ever again. More distantly, he wonders if and I hope you get three consecutive aneurysms and your family leaves you to fucking rot in a hospital bed, you leprous shitdick will be on loop in his head for the rest of time. He kind of wants to put it on a shirt. Will’s linguistic talents should be studied. 

“Stop thinking about it,” Will demands, socking him (hard! What the shit!) in the shoulder. His face resembles, quite exactly, the shade of the setting sun. “Purge it from your memory.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Nico responds, smirking.

“I wasn’t –” A pause. Nico bites back a snort. “Cutting people off is just so rude.”

“Oh, of course.”

“I mean! I mean.”

“Indeed.”

“If it was – an ambulance, or something, I would understand, but he cut us off just to get immediately stuck in the same traffic! I don’t understand the point!”

“Truly the behaviour of a leprous shitdick,” Nico agrees. His grin starts to genuinely hurt his face, but he ignores it in favour of snickering.

Will sinks into his seat, pulling his hoodie over his eyes. His ears, as usual, stick out a little, and they’re red, too. Nico nobly resists the urge to flick them. 

“I hate you.”

“I think you’re quite attached to me, actually. After all, I’m not a –”

“If I hear the word leprous come from your mouth one more fucking time, di Angelo, I’ll give you leprosy. For real. I’ll find it.”

Will probably could find a vial of pure leprosy somewhere, actually, so Nico shuts up. (He’s seen Will’s weird vial collection. Most of it is just, like, various bacteria, he’s pretty sure, but Will is kind of morbid and Nico knows his sense of humour is garbage because Nico’s sense of humour is garbage, and there is a reason they’re friends, and if Nico found a vial of leprosy somewhere he would keep it, too. Can leprosy be vialed? Who knows. Will, probably.)

Once he’s sure Nico is not going to tease him anymore about his temper tantrum, or at least for the moment, he turns back to his book. Every so often, he looks up, observes the three miles per hour they’re crawling, and sighs, loudly and lengthy to himself, muttering something about railway systems and zoning laws and government incompetence. Nico doesn’t ask. He was free from the jail that was history and geography lessons last month. He is determined to learn absolutely nothing for the next six months, at least. 

“I’m paying for the motel or hotel or inn et cetera,” Will says, randomly. 

“No,” Nico replies, easily. 

Will reaches out, calmly, and pinches him on the thigh. Nico does not yelp indignantly because he is a Man, and can handle Will’s weirdly pointy fingers.

“You paid for gas.”

“Yep.”

“And you have car payments.”

“Mhm.”

“And you bought Dunkin’s.”

“True.”

“Nico,” Will says exasperatedly, “this whole damn trip was my idea. Let me pay for shit.”

“I enjoy wasting my father’s money,” Nico counters, and Will pauses, considering. “Come on, commie. I know the idea of spending a banker’s money on stupid shit pleases you.”

He knows he’s starting to win, because Will sighs in a very particular way that Nico has identified as why am I letting this dumbass get away with this again, says, “Spending money is capitalist, Nico,” and turns, begrudgingly, back to his book.

Poorly hidden behind the pages, he’s smiling.

Nico tallies his victory.

The traffic finally eases by around eight o’clock. Victorious, surely, except that they’re still quite a ways from Atlanta. He considers getting off at one of the various exits promising shelter, and in fact decides he is going to, but for some reason, his hand never drifts to his blinker. Never turns the wheel slightly to merge, never eases off the gas. He keeps going, an going, and going, music playing softly, stars beginning to shine through the darkening sky.

Beside him, Will lets out tiny puffs as he exhales, even and sluggish.

“You are a grandmother,” he whispers fondly, shaking his head. In the quiet of the road, interrupted only by the whipping whipping winds – he should have pulled the roof back up when they were stuck, shit – and odd flash of headlights of a passing car, he lets himself soften, sighing back against his seat and easing up slightly on the gas.

Will glows, faintly, in the moonlight.

It’s funny, ‘cause he’s a sun child. Nico has teased him about it for years, in fact; his hair, his bright blue eyes, his stubborn clinging to his aesthetic of wannabe surfer boy. The gold ring he wears on his thumb, the sun pendant that rests on his heart. Swathed in yellows and blues and golds, all the time, with a sprinkling of bright green and neon orange just to remind everyone that yes, he is red green colourblind, and no, that will not stop him from making fashion choices. 

But the silver suits him. It softens him, instead of washing him out, reminding Nico that the sun shines white. The low light casts gentle shadows on his face, too, drawing attention to his strong brow and straight nose. 

Forcing his eyes back on the road, where they should have been the whole time, Jesus, he notices the giant green Downtown Atlanta sign, and follows its arrows. The first exit he sees, he turns, getting lost three times before he finds the hotel that was advertised.

Pulling into the largely empty parking lot, he shuts off the car, then turns to Will, screwing up his face. He has to wake him up, at some point. Obviously. Unfortunately he cannot simply melt into the shadows and reappear in a hotel room. As awesome as that would be, with his luck, he’d pop into an occupied one, and that’d be a whole host of problems. 

Deciding he’ll actually get them a room first, he heads inside, speaking quietly with the desk host.

“Single or double?” they ask pleasantly, voice similarly lowered for the hour.

“Uh,” Nico says, “double?”

The host pauses, eyebrows flicking up at his hesitation. “...Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Nico flushes. He adds, belatedly, “Please.”

Eyebrow raised in amusement, the host reaches into a drawer and pulls out two sleek key cards, tucking them into a little envelope thing and handing them over. “Room 409,” they say, nodding towards the elevator. 

“Thanks,” Nico responds, and walks out the door. He realises, as he exits, how much of a general failure he is at communicating with people who are not Will, and considers climbing through the window of his sixth floor room out of sheer embarrassment. The realization that he does not have the skill to drag Will up there with him is the only thing that stops him.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, once he’s gathered their bags and some of the red has faded from his face, “we’re here.”

Will hums a little, voice gravelly. Nico’s lip quirk up.

“Where?”

“Somewhere to sleep.”

“‘M sleepin’ jus’ fine.”

His accent is so, so heavy with sleep, and it’s just – God, he wishes Wil hadn’t trained himself out of it. In Nico’s professional opinion, Will should talk like that all the time.

Authenticity, and all that.

“C’mon, Will.”

After another minute of coaxing – which Nico indulges purely because he knows for a fact Solace will have no memory of it in the morning, in any other circumstance he’d poke him awake – Will uncurls enough to stagger to his feet, stumbling as he gets out of the vehicle. For his own safety, Nico wraps an arm around his narrow hips, guiding him up to the room. 

“Mnhgh,” he mumbles, the second the heavy door closes behind them. He walks two steps to the nearest bed, face plants in the middle of it, and starts snoring, feet hanging off the end, one flip-flip still stubbornly clinging to his foot.

“Dork,” Nico murmurs. He gets ready like a normal person, tugging on a sleep shirt – might be an old one of Will’s, actually, because Nico certainly never bought a Shania Twain concert t-shirt – and wrapping up in the wonderfully plush blankets. “Goodnight, Will.”

He gets a snore in response. He burrows deeper into the covers, smiling, drifting off to the sound of his best friend’s rhythmic breathing.

———

next chapter

[aspengenic]

I think is interesting how in one video Noelle explains that they're a subsystem, the one on internet is a subsystem

I don't know if they're the general host subsystem or if they're just fronting for internet, but either way the rest of their system outside their subsystem must know about what Aspen and Noelle are doing and how it's harming, forget about all the people who she harms because it's obvious she doesn't care about them, but the main system should know that what Aspen and Noelle (Just mentioning them because they're the most active on socials) are doing is harming them

Aspen doesn't need the internet break, all The Entourage subsystem need a break from socials because they're doing themselves more harm than anything and they should acknowledge that

When I heard they're a subsystem I really felt bad for their main system, I know Aspen's and Noelle's actions are pretty shitty, but their immaturity is harming them so bad that they don't even see it and that might be a problem in their recovery process

Idk I'm just rambling

Also I'm sorry all this cowards were reaching you in anon to defend Aspen and demonstrate they don't even understand for what this blog's about

From what I've heard, the Entourage Subsystem is likeee... the one that handles social media altogether? Or maybe I'm misremembering, so correct me if I'm wrong. Part of me wonders if they log out of their socials if - and when - they feel someone else outside of the subsystem around. Maybe the rest of the system genuinely doesn't know about it. I think if I recall correctly, they mentioned that littles are usually fronting if it's not the subsystem, but again! correct me if I'm wrong.

I do also feel bad for the rest of the system and maybe through therapy, amnesia barriers will be removed more and the rest of the system will be able to do something about it.

I definitely agree the subsystem as a whole needs the break though, like. I've said it before and I still stand by it, Noelle isn't any better, and neither is Exploit. They have a loooottttt of healing they need to do. It is nice seeing they're not as bad as they were before being put on medication, and I do get that Aspen is extremely self destructive, but that should be all the more reason to keep them offline, and they're still causing harm whether or not they're on meds - it's just not as bad.

I can acknowledge there has been some growth there, but it feels like they take one step forward and two steps back and they have not taken accountability for anything even still. They definitely need a break from social media.

As for the anons, it really didn't bother me that much. However, I do actually have generalized anxiety disorder and the constant flood I was getting wasss... yeah. Overall it was something I was genuinely laughing about, but I know how it can impact my mental health and I'd rather nip that in the bud before my mental health does a decline. For as long as I've had this blog, I haven't gotten any anon hate that I can recall and today it was like the floodgates opened. I was doing my second job today (which is from home, so it wasn't impacting me in a physical workplace) and it was not something I expected at all.

Unfortunately I will have people that disagree, a lot of new fans that are probably very young and vulnerable to manipulation and genuinely just don't know about everything they've done collectively, and will send hate to this blog. That should've been a given and something I should've been more mentally prepared for. I definitely have a hard time ignoring anon hate or passive aggressive comments and that's something I need to work on in general, to just not give them the time of day and delete/block.

But it can also be the other way around. If you don't like what this blog is for or about, the block button is free, it's very easily accessible. You can just block and move on. /nay

I do find it a bit interesting that their mods know about the blog, and part of me wonders what the mods think about it. I've heard stories from ex mods of theirs coming out with how they were treated by Aspen and co, and part of me hopes these mods aren't treated the same way as past mods have been. I hope Aspen and co are also listening to their current mods if/when they give her any constructive criticism.

[orangez3st]

Dream Currents

Captain Rex × OFC Force Goddess

— Chapter 4: Primordial

Tags: teen & up, f/m, gen, hurt/comfort, childhood friends, romantic friendship, fluff, pre-star wars: the clone wars, clone cadets (training in kamino), very rex-centric, rex whump, the worst is probably sw curse words (tell me if I should add more tags!)

[Content] [Start] [Prev] [Next] [AO3] [Spotify]

“Identify yourself for the records, cadet.”

“Designation number; CC-1010.”

“Have you had a nickname for yourself?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Very well.” Nala Se, a datapad in hand, takes a few steps back in the pristine white chamber. Putting CC-1010 under a few more seconds of scrutiny, the cloning facility’s Chief Medical Officer later initiates the questioning. “Regarding the most recent uproar among your peers, I believe you have known of the latest strange phenomenon where every single clone in this facility had the very same dream when they slept just last night?”

Ten nods firmly, once. “I do, ma’am.”

“Tell us about yours.”

Ten almost scoffs at the open-ended directness. Probably won’t even last five minutes in here at all. Recomposing himself, he goes over what he’s practiced inside his head while waiting for his turn. “It was dark. In the middle of a night, I assume,” begins Ten, settling just enough on his parade rest position. “I was on a surface ship. Small, modest, appeared to be made out of some wood. On it, I was in the middle of the ocean. It was raining, too. Loud winds, howling. The waves were raging. I realized the surface ship was tied by its bow to a, a rocky outcrop, in the middle of the ocean.”

“And?” prompts Nala Se, “What happened then?”

“Lightning flashed,” Ten supplies, “I saw a figure on top of the rocks, standing over me.”

“Can you identify what they look like?”

Ten nods. “I identified it as a mature female humanoid figure. She was wearing white. Long, dark hair, blowing in the harsh wind and weather.”

“And? Was this female human looking at you?”

With these kinds of questions I doubt she’s even gathering for more data. More like lining mine up with the others’ accounts now, Ten concludes.

“I couldn’t tell, ma’am. The rain made it hard to take a look. Despite that, I remember the dream as clear as day. I assume she was looking out behind me.”

“What was behind you?”

“The raging ocean.”

“Did the female human say something to you?”

Called it. He almost smirks at his own deduction. “Yes, she did.”

“What did she say?”

The images subtly make a return to the forefront of his mind. Dark, billowing wind and harsh weather. He can even remember the piercing chill – the fatigues he was wearing were soaked to the bone. The ship, however… Tied to a piece of the rock outcrop. He never guesses the meaning behind his dreams, but if he’s being so kind about this one, he might dare to assume that he was tied to the female figure himself. Ten recalls his feelings in that dream – no fear, no sense of sheltered in safety, just pure wonder, especially when the figure said…

“’I am the primordial ocean’.” Ten remembers the voice so powerful it carried something he couldn’t quite place as it was heard among the violent weather and waves. Evenly-voiced, he quickly follows up, “Then I woke up to alarm.”

Ten tries his best not to scowl. As much as he’s more than willing to be helpful to the longnecks’ research, he wouldn’t stand for another minute with one of them in the same room.

And, well, he’s still got another card up his sleeve for that…

“Very well.” Nala Se taps about her datapad. “You’re dismissed, CC-1010.”

“If I may, ma’am,” he interrupts, “I would like to suggest looking into the account of CT-7567 as well.”

By her countenance and posture change Ten can see that the longneck doctor is definitely, outrageously caught off-guard. Once again he’s nearly, wickedly grinning at his success.

“Is there a reason for your suggestion?”

Ten subtly clears his throat. “We were having our firstmeal, and one of my peers brought up this dream. Six-Se– I mean, CT-7567 was a little quieter and a little too nonchalant to share his part, while the others seemed to be enthusiastic.” He resists the urge to shrug. “Just a small suggestion to aid your progress. Ma’am.”

It takes several seconds of consideration that he can see there’s practically conflict in her stuck-up, nose-slit of a face. Probably something about disobedience or speaking out of turn and all that bantha poodoo. Ten sucks in his lips to prevent a scoff threatening to slip out.

“It has been duly noted, cadet.” It disappoints him immediately as Nala Se decides to throw him out – and makes him grateful. “Dismissed.”

[Content] [Start] [Prev] [Next] [AO3] [Spotify]

Word Count: 742

[threehuskiesinatrenchcoat]

!!!!! HI !!!!!

You‘ve seen the beginning of this and I hope you‘ve forgotten about it so u can read it again now!

This time I tried my hand at angst? Kinda? Also this is sort of inspired by the cyberpunk au but also knowing nothing about cyberpunk won’t hinder anyone from having a cry /hj jk i don’t think i‘ll actually make anyone cry with this but rest assured i‘m trying

Maybe one day I‘ll know enough computer jargon to make an actual cyberpunk au lmao

It’s also a lot of words? Like 2000<, which is not as much as the transformer au but definitely more than usual

Anyways, this is not a birthday gift bc it’s not your birthday why did i even clarify that so enjoy!

It took a lot of maneuvering to pull Graves’ heavily burned body out of the wreck. His limp form was a pitiful sight, skin either an angry red or dusty grey depending on where the fire and where the ash had gotten to him. Some of his implants had survived the explosion, others dug into his flesh, half molten and irreparable. Alejandro wondered how willing the Brits would be in actually hearing Graves out should he survive - and the colonel was sure he’d make it. It’s what he always did: endure and conquer. A picture of the other’s self-assured grin flashed in his mind. Alejandro sighed heavily, dark eyes cataloguing the most life-threatening injuries as the unconscious man got carried towards the base. The sun was close to setting, making everything glow in an orange light as if aflame once more.

While he watched his men leave with their cargo and thoughts about the future started to creep into his head. What would happen to Graves? Los Vaqueros would follow his command. If he wanted him to get treatment, they’d give it to him. The Brits, though? They might argue whose custody he was under, so to say. Seeing as they had worked with Sheppard more closely and were actively hunting him, they might want to get the info first, stabilize him second. Alejandro knew he was letting his own bias blind him, but Graves should get a fighting chance, a chance to make things right.

They’d need to check his chip at the very least, anyways; make sure his brain wouldn’t immediately shut down once they tried to wake him up. Until they came back, Alejandro would make sure the former commander survived. Besides his obvious use, the Mexican wasn’t able to rid himself completely of the fondness he held for the other man and probably never would. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself. There was no time to worry about something he couldn’t change right now. Los Vaqueros needed him; las Almas needed him. It was time to take care of his responsibilities. With one last glance towards the medical wing, he steeled himself and went to find Rodolfo. They had a lot to discuss.

He was a doll. Graves was a doll. The news didn’t really want to register in his mind, but there it was, black on white. He had a chip and everything. It had gotten activated recently, very recently. The pad’s screen started flickering as Alejandro applied more and more pressure, unable to handle his anger any other way. Luckily, his second in command took it from him with an order to calm down before they’d discuss it. The colonel left wordlessly and did just that.

Multiple destroyed test dummies and equipment later, he returned. Their conversation didn’t last long, everyone present knowing just what those chips did, having seen them in action at a few cartel raids already. The general consensus was that Graves was innocent, the Brits reluctantly agreeing as well when being told of the newly discovered circumstances. His state was still unstable, but he wouldn’t be held accountable for everything he had done while not being himself once he woke up. The scope of his involvement would have to get sorted out first, of course, and Alejandro hoped it to be minimal.

The walkie talkie hanging from his hip cackled to life. It was Graves, he had woken up. After alerting Rudy, giving him a short explanation and requesting his presence in the medical area as well, he found himself standing in front of the American’s assigned room. He took a deep breath to calm himself, his breathing almost echoing in the quiet and empty hallway only broken up by faint beeping sounds and medical equipment standing to the side. Reaching out, he slowly pushed down on the cold door handle and stepped in.

He looked so small and vulnerable, skin pale and face gaunt. Alejandro slowly got closer, eyes transfixed on the figure getting swallowed by the stark white bedding. Coming to a stop at about stomach height, he almost didn’t dare to take a proper look at the other’s face. Graves’ lower body was completely covered by the blanket, but what was visible of his upper body looked painful. His stomach had been blown open and sewn shut again, his right arm had to be removed completely and his left one was missing the blade. Wires had been bundled together and secured to the remaining arm, probably so they wouldn’t snag on something should he move. The Mexican didn’t want to imagine how much agony he must be in; or would be if he wasn’t high on painkillers. The drip bag connected to Graves only half full, having hung there for a while already.

Something moved in his periphery and his eyes snapped upwards to where Graves was staring at him. The other blinked again and his breath hitched. Alejandro just stared back, now faced with what he’d been avoiding for the past few weeks. The American’s empty stare, dull in unrecognition, but still so very blue, moved slowly towards the door when Rudy stepped in. He seemed to barely notice movement; his reaction seemingly more instinct than willful action. Alejandro wondered how long he’d have to stand still for Graves to think of him as part of the room.

Rodolfo’s gaze swept the room before landing on the colonel, but Alejandro didn’t dare take his eyes off the man lying in front of them, scared he’d miss when he’d pass out and look no better than a corpse again. “How is he?” Rudy obviously tried to talk as soft as possible, but Graves still flinched. Something like fear flickered in his eyes. It was to be expected, seeing as the other man had taken part in taking him down and who knew how damaged the chip had gotten during the explosion.

Alejandro tried matching the other’s tone, already dreading the injured man’s reaction. “He hasn’t talked yet, but I’ve only been here a couple minutes.” In his periphery, he saw Rodolfo nodding in understanding, but his focus was on Graves, Phillip, who’s gaze was resting on him again. Brows furrowed and frowning slightly, he looked as if he was concentrating, His remaining hand spasmed and Alejandro slowly reached for it. The American’s arm was light, missing a good chunk of it, but when he gently squeezed his hand, it felt as if the other was trying to reciprocate it.

His heart fluttered with hope. Maybe they’d be able to talk to him soon; make him understand that he was safe. It must’ve shown on his face, because after a moment of quiet, Rodolfo patted his shoulder and left the room with a soft “Don’t stay too long, Ale.” He nodded, not taking his eyes from Graves’, imagining, hoping the spark in them was recognition.

Phillip’s condition wasn’t improving. The doctors were at a loss, calling his survival a miracle already and deeming him a lost cause. Every time he woke up, the most he did was track people’s movement with his eyes and occasionally twitch when one of the loose wires in his enhancements caught a spark. Alejandro tried visiting him as often as possible, until Rodolfo stepped in and practically dragged him out of the room, scolding him. He knew it wouldn’t get better, almost two months of no change proved that. Graves’ brain basically short-circuited, at least that’s how others had tried explaining it to him. Even his breathing wasn’t completely automated anymore, sometimes just stopping without rhyme or reason and having to be supplemented with a machine hooked up to his respiratory system. Day after day, Alejandro’s hope grew more and more cold, into a black hole at the center of his heart. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, let it go, but it was eating him up from the inside.

“They’re here. Vamos, let’s not keep them waiting.” Alejandro nodded and rose from his seat. Graves’ eyes were on him in an instant. It hurt, seeing him like this, but after Rudy’s intervention, he tried concentrating on his work more. It proved futile, so he took his work to the place his thoughts were circling around anyway. It might be a bit of a hassle to walk the extra distance between his office and the medical wing, but he got his work done and that was the important bit. He put any sensitive documents away, before walking towards the yard.

The Brits came for a visit. Everyone knew the reason for it was laying unresponsive in a medical bed, but they’d claimed to have a plan; not necessarily to get him to talk, but to get the information they needed. Alejandro didn’t like the sound of that. His suspicions turned out to be justified when 141 explained their brilliant plan was to reactivate the chip. The ensuing discussion and subsequent dismissal of Alejandro’s arguments against the method were a given. It might’ve ended differently if Graves had been lucid and recovering, but his current state just encouraged the others in their decision. “He won’t feel a thing, colonel, calm down. At this point he’s as good as dead, anyways.”

Alejandro insisted on being present during the procedure. He watched as they transferred his body onto the operation table, strapping him in. It was expected he might wake up and have the chip take control again. That thought alone made the Mexican’s hairs stand on end. Having Graves finally awake, not as himself, but an imposter, a mere puppet for Sheppard; it stung. Once they started hooking him up to the cables, that was when Alejandro began to have his doubts. He hadn’t wanted this for Graves; hadn’t from the very beginning, but now he started to realize; it was really going to happen. He took a shaky breath. Rodolfo noticed and put a calming hand on his shoulder. It didn’t help as much as he needed it to.

The room’s white walls, floor, lights, white everything didn’t let Graves look any healthier, his skin almost blending in with its surroundings. The whirring of the machines grew louder, the computer running its programs to access the chip. Alejandro saw the diagnostics popping up on the displays, even as digitally inept as he was, it was clear those numbers weren’t good. Graves’s heartbeat picked up significantly as one of the monitors flickered to life, showing Shepard’s face on a computer screen. It was too quiet for Alejandro to make out the words spoken, but he monitors view flicked to the side momentarily, showing the inside of a moving vehicle and the prairie running past the window, before lowering again towards Shepard. The plan was working, they were seeing Graves’ memories.

It took only a moment for everything to go sideways. The man strapped to the operation table started twitching violently, straining against the belts holding him down. Then, the screaming began. Alejandro had heard a lot of screams in his career; People being tortured by the cartel, people he had to get information from himself, dying people in the street, or their loved ones mourning the corpses, but this scream was one of the worst ones. Had someone told him Graves was getting stripped of his skin and doused in acid, he would’ve believed it. He thrashed stronger with each passing minute, throwing his head from side to side. Alejandro hadn’t even noticed himself moving, but one minute he was behind a glass wall, the next he stood next to Phillip, trying to hold him down. Soothing words were useless with how loud the other was yelling, but it didn’t stop him from murmuring them anyways.

From one moment to the next, Graves went quiet. The doctors present wasted no time securing the belts, tying the American down tighter and assessing the damage. Alejandro simply stared back into the other’s eyes that had settled on him with a horror-stricken expression. He didn’t know what to do. Graves looked so scared, his mouth opening and closing multiple times before settling back into a frown. Alejandro tried smiling at him as calmly as he could, sort of failing, but he didn’t care how weird his face looked, because it got Phillip to react.

The American whined pitifully, that’s all you could really call it. It sounded like the precursor to a truly horrible crying session, but not so much as a single tear left Graves’ eyes. They looked more grey than blue in the harsh operation table lighting and Alejandro couldn’t help but wish to see them in the sun if only for a moment. “A’jandro” Even just his name sounded painful to say and the Mexican put his hand over the other’s bound one.

“Save your energy. You need to recover, not talk. Please, Phillip, just get better.” He looked truly pitiful, staring up at him from that table with pale skin and a desperation in his eyes, one could think he was dying. Graves shook his head slowly, gaze never leaving Alejandro. Lips pressed together; he began tearing up, tears rolling down his cheek. The Mexican wiped them away, startled by how cold his skin was. The other man opened his mouth again, but only a painful wheeze left it as his gaze grew distant, unfocused eyes wandering to the side. “Hey, no, don’t leave again, you need to stay, don’t leave me, Phillip.” But his pleas fell on deaf ears, as he looked around, searching for something to help, anything to bring him back. The consistent peeping tone finally registered in his mind.

HJKGSDFSLIUYHIHEGKIL????????????????????? AEUGHGGSFG???????? okay listen. listen. when i see you irl i am legally obligated to punch you in the face (maybe with my mouth) because i feel so much lovehate for it it's unbelievable (in all the good ways) i SWEAR. when i told you about my cyberpunk au-crossover thingy i kinda expected it to be just me sharing my brainrot ideas i haven't even posted anything for it here yet but youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu im crying screaming throwing up foaming at the mouth im SO so normal i swear please believe me

[birdmitosis]

@lhassinu​ OKAY okay, this is a longish list, and some of the episodes have more Kururu-focus than others, but!! This is a lot fewer than 358 episodes; it’s only like 41 episodes when you take the half-episodes into account. I’ve also probably left out some good moments, there are just so many episodes... I also went ahead and put the placements of where the movies should probably go in there. I do recommend all the movies, and also the Chibi Kero short that goes along with Movie 2, especially. All the titles in the list below are taken from Wiki, rather than from the way they’re actually translated in the subtitles on that site. (And I’m linking it again just for convenience.)

9: Natsumi, Where Love Blooms, Kululu Looms / Aki Hinata, A Dynamite Woman

10: Face-off! Decisive Battle over Molar-3

28B: Kululu Ku of Kukuku

40A: Mois, You Could Say Happy New Year?

44: Keroro vs. Fuyuki Heated Sports Match / Kululu vs. Aki Exploding Invasion of Robots

47: Natsumi, Protect the Girls Festival / Keroro Becomes Afro

49A: Kululu, The Best Method in Space

51: Keroro Platoon Retreats! Good-bye, Pekopon

82A: Mutsumi Want to Be On My Radio?

83B: Kururu, the Most Dislikeable Guy

93: Natsumi Delves Into the Secret Base! / Aki Hinata, Probably the Strongest Woman In Space

SM1: Keroro Gunso the Super Movie (on that site as Sergeant Keroro: The Super Duper Movie)

100: Keroro Platoon Eh? Who Am…I? Who Is…Everyone?

101: The Keroro Platoon the Day Pekopon Stood Still!?

102: The Keroro Platoon Pekopon!! Impending Destruction of a Loved Planet!!

103: Keroro Platoon the Sincerity That You Showed Me

112: Kululu & Saburo The Artist's Decisive Encounter!

118B: Kululu The Sergeant Major Of Curry

122A: Kululu The Cursed DVD

129: Kiruru. The Messenger of Destruction

130A: Keroro Platoon All Members Reboot! (but 130B is also very funny if you like the Garuru Platoon)

134B: Fuyuki & Kururu Go to Akihabara

147B: Giroro who gave me this? (just wait for it)

SM2: Keroro Gunso the Super Movie 2: The Deep Sea Princess de arimasu! (on that site as Sergeant Keroro: The Super Duper Movie 2)

153: Kerokero Military Operation Number 100

154: Keroro Farewell Sergeant Keroro

157A: Leave it to Chief Medic Pururu!

158B: Giroro, Exclude These Memories

161: Putata and Mekeke, Overzealous Killers

165A: Kululu, Temporary Leader

171B: Kululu, When Was He a House Sitter?

185B: Tamama, It's a Notebook

192B: Keroro Platoon, A Cake Is a Man's Battlefield!

194B: Kululu and a Puppy

198B: Natsumi and Momoka, Obligation Chocolate Excluded!

199: Kululu, Kululun Idol Legend / Keroro, Reseting My Mind!

SM3: Keroro Gunso the Super Movie 3: Keroro vs. Keroro Great Sky Duel de arimasu! (on that site as Sergeant Keroro: The Super Duper Movie 3)

210B: Aki, Children's Day

211: Musha Kero, Volume 1: Legendary Hero

214A: Kululu, I Quit

218B: Keroro, Caries War 2

229: Keroro, Killer Fist of Words! / Saburo and Kululu, Silent Fight (the first half definitely sets up the second half)

237: Musha Kero, Volume 4: Go West, Musha Kero Platoon

240A: Kululu, Sergeant Major's Special Mission

SM4: Keroro Gunso the Super Movie 4: Gekishin Dragon Warriors de arimasu! (on that site as Sergeant Keroro: The Super Duper Movie 4)

260: Kero Zero, Keroro Platoon's Departure Last Night / Kero Zero, Keroro Platoon's First Mission

268: Kero Zero, Enter Pekoponian Mecha Designer Kiko Katoyama

270: Chibi Kero vs. Chibi Fuyuki

284: Dororo, Farewell Platoon

295A: Keroro, The Two of Us Are One Kerororm

SM5: Keroro Gunso the Super Movie 5: Creation! Ultimate Keroro, Wonder Space-Time Island, de arimasu!! (on that site as Sergeant Keroro: The Super Duper Movie 5)

306B: Dororo, Doro is Coming! (though the first part of the episode sets it up, it's not totally necessary)

307: Keroro & Fuyuki, Night of the Time Capsule

311A: Kululu, the invasion has started

319: Mois, genius hacker? / Kululu, small old clock

320A: Natsumi, charming invaders

326A: Chibi Kero, fireworks from that summer

330B: Koyuki, first curry

349: Keroro, invading daily life / Keroro, hooray for reset

356A: Keroro platoon, real Dragon Warriors

357: Hinata family, Haru returns

[whisperprime]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Interlude | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Hob blinks into awareness, staring at a blank wall.

A blank wall that should have a door in it.

He turns, putting his back to the offending wall. Takes in what appears to be his flat, at first glance. It gives him the surreal feeling that everything that had come before - Dream showing up, their talk, the offer to fix his ankle - had been the dream, rather than what he was currently experiencing.

Upon a second glance, he can pick up on the things that are out of place, like the pleated coat he’d bought back in the 15th century hung on the coat rack or the claymore he was still mourning the loss of mounted over a couch he definitely wouldn’t be buying again this go around.

Littered through out the flat are also things that didn’t exist yet - if they ever came to exist in this new timeline, such as a cellphone that made the iPhone 14 look like a MicroTAC Ultra Lite or the 22nd century style coat hung up next to his pleated one.

For a moment, he feels nostalgic for the time period he had left behind when he agreed to take up the Herald’s mission. He misses the friends he never got the chance to say goodbye to. Misses the advancements in technology. Is glad he doesn’t have to worry about missing the latest medical advancements.

Oh, what a world they were heading into. He looked forward to not only meeting it again, but also to experiencing it in new ways he hadn’t the first time.

There’s the feeling of displaced air, of a shift, that Hob has begun to attribute to something entering the dream with him, that tips off that he has company. Leaving the room to itself, Hob shifts his attention to Dream, who is peering at a future piece of technology that won’t exist for another 110 years.

What is it like to be a creature existing in the now while also retaining knowledge of things that existed in the tomorrow, he wonders. What strange things might this Endless being have seen that now only exists in the memories of those who have walked times that no longer make up their existence? What did time travelers bring to the collective unconsciousness?

Hob puts a pin on those thoughts before they can carry him away. He may have been improving when it came to lucid dreaming, something that was far easier at the moment with Dream being there, but it was still far too easily to get distracted and lose the thread on things. “It’s done?”

Dream pulls himself away from the cell phone, turning to meet him. Here, in his domain, Hob is struck once again by how much more substantial he is. His eyes, usually blue in the Waking world, are their more natural reflection of the cosmos.

“Yes. You might feel sore in the morning, but the bone was set back correctly.”

Oh, to be able to walk without the feeling of bone not sitting correctly. He could not wait.

Near bouncing on his feet, Hob turns back to the blank wall. He places one hand on his hip, while the other goes to his chin as he debates his dilemma. “I might need your help, dove.” He points at the wall with the hand that had been on his hip. “I’ve gotten decent at controlling my dreams, but I never got the hang of changing them.”

Dream steps up beside him, intrigued. “You were not a lucid dreamer in the past. When did you learn?”

“It’s a recent skill.” Well, ‘recent’ if one took into account that Hob has roughly 379 years worth of lived experience that Dream knows very little about. “It took way longer than I thought it would to get even to my current level. I’m jealous of those it comes freely too.”

He gets a thoughtful nod. “Everyone who sleeps experiences it differently. The only thing they have in common is that they dream at some point in their lives.”

Hob has always wondered: “Do you sleep?”

Dream is silent in a way that Hob knows that he’s weighing whether or not to tell him something. He’s a little shocked when he gets, “No. The closest thing for me is unconsciousness.”

Another thought to put a pin in.

Not wanting the conversation to take a darker turn - they are supposed to be having a bit of a dinner date, even if they’re not calling it that - Hob forces himself to face the wall. “I know the place I’d like to go, but I don’t know how to get there. Any suggestions?”

A considering silence, this time. “Emotional attachment can help shape dreams.”

Hob suddenly remembers that he has, just once, changed a dream before, although he hadn’t been trying to do it on purpose. Remembers the brief flash of The Wake during his revisit of the 1889 dream right after the seal broke. 

Dream tilts his head down to make eye contact, and Hob suddenly realizes that Dream is taller than him at the moment. “Does this place have any such attachment for you?”

Hob closes his eyes and imagines the place he’d like to go. Feels the tug of it, like a call home. “Yeah. Yeah it does.”

He feels cool fingers wrap around the hand that had still been pressed to his hip. Nearly opens his eyes, until he hears, “Hold the image of the place in your mind.” His hand is guided out until he feels those fingers wrapping his hand around a door knob that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Let the attachment be the thread to guide you to where you want to go.”

Holding tight to the image, Hob turns the knob and pulls on the door. When he opens his eyes, there before him is the New Inn. But it isn’t a version from any specific era, nor is it the one he’s trying to build back in the Waking, although it might be close. 

Here, in this dream, it is more the concept of the place than an imagining of the real thing. The hopes, new and old, he’s poured into it. What it was and what he wants to it be again. His hands itch with the desire to pick up a hammer and attempt, perhaps in vain, to try and make it a reality.

Remembering he isn’t alone, Hob uses his free hand to indicate that Dream should enter first. “After you, dove.”

Dream pauses in the door way much the same way he had when he’d entered the New Inn in the Waking world. He looks back at Hob over his shoulder, briefly, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, before he turns back and passes through the door.

Hob follows behind him, coming to walk beside him as they enter the seating area. In the Waking, the New Inn would be full of tables and booths if it was this far along. Here, in this place that Hob has imagined just for the two of them, is just a single bar stool up against a more richly colored version of the real bar table.

“Feel free to take a seat, if you’d like.” Hob points over his shoulder to the double doors that should lead to the kitchen. “I shouldn’t be too long with the food.” 

Dream eyes the seat for a moment, before he shakes his head. “I should like to come with you.”

Hob feels the phantom sensation of sweat down his neck. This is hardly the first time someone will have watched him cook before, but there’s a certain level of stakes here that he hasn’t felt since that one time he had the Queen over. Higher, even.

He covers it up with his usual bravado, offering a welcoming smile and a ‘follow me’ as he heads for the kitchen.

He hadn’t ever given any heavy thought to what he might make Dream if he ever had him over for dinner. Even if he had, food in the Dreaming was different than anything in the Waking world. In the Waking world, the quality of the ingredients and the skill of the chef determined the taste of the food.

In the Dreaming, food was more memory and emotion. To feed someone in the Dreaming was to share with them an experience and to pour it into being.

Hob had only shared a meal once with the Other Dream, but he hoarded that memory like a dragon hoards it’s most precious gold.

Doing this prods a little at that loss, but it feels like pressing on a bruise that will always be worth the hurt to have gained the experience. 

Without it, he would never be able to do what he was doing now. To share this gift with any of the knowledge that give in the full impact of the thought that went into it.

It is with this in mind, that he lets the doubts fall away and gets to work. The kitchen, as it can only in a dream, has everything he needs. The dish itself is simple, but still something he’d feel comfortable feeding a king. He preps the venison with the curiosity he felt during their first meeting. Preps the vegetables with the trepidation he’d felt going into their second meeting. Spices the venison with the love he’d newly discovered going into their third meeting. The vegetables are sauteed with the light that was the remembrance that he had someone waiting for him going during their fourth meeting. Roasts the venison with the wonder he’d felt at the end of the their fifth meeting and the empathy he’d felt for the loneliness he’d felt himself during their sixth meeting.

Food finally cooked, he fashions a plate to serve it on, made of the faith, despite the fears, that they’d see each other again he’d felt going into what should have been their seventh meeting. The same faith that had carried him beyond it when it was missed, both the original and repeat time around.

Carefully lifting the plate, Hob turns to head back into the sitting area. Has to pause when he gets a look at the expression on his friend's face.

The Lord of Dreams and Nightmares stares back at him, the heat behind that gaze a supernova at the height of it’s explosion. He looks like he wants to crawl into Hob’s psyche and see what makes him tic. To preserve it for him to return to and gaze upon at his leisure.

Hob swallows feeling not unlike a pinned butterfly on display, carefully asks, “Dove? The food is ready.” Needlessly, he holds up the plate.

Dream blinks, with all the effort of a titan willing itself back into something small enough for something a human could perceive. Eyes the dish like a predator would prey.

What would you feed a creature that is beyond that of a god?

“Yes, let us see what you have come up to thank me.”

Hob wills himself not to allow his trepidation stop him now. He once shit talked Death and earned an eternity to enjoy life. He's not stupid enough to do anything like that again - not rudely, anyway - but it is that kind of courage he reacjes for, foolish as it is.

He just hopes that this doesn’t turn out to be foolish, as well.

Dream takes his seat on the stool, somehow looking like a king set at the head of a grand table rather than someone sat at a bar table. Hob lays down the dish in front of him. Once his hands are free, he turns to the shelves behind him and reaches for one of the bottles. Imagines it filled with the joy of drinking with a companion that knows him better than anyone in the world as he pours it into a glass he’s pulled up from beneath the bottles. Lastly, he lays out a pair of utensils.

Once finished, he steps back, hands trailing palm up along the table as he withdraws. “I present your meal, milord. Roasted venison and vegetables, served with a Bordeaux wine. I hope it is made to your liking.”

Dream decides to taste the venison first. The moment the meat hits his tongue, Hob watches as his eyes fall close with a flutter. Raw pleasure lights his face, subtle that it is, like Hob has rarely seen, and he can’t help but feel an answering, pleased flush of his own.

Dream does not do anything as undignified as inhale the food. He takes his time with savoring the food, the wine. Somehow leaves not a single trace of it behind when he is finished. 

This might be the closest to sated Hob has ever seen Dream. 

Hob very happily adds this memory to his treasure trove of moments to look at on a rainy day.

Food consumed, Dream picks up his glass of wine. Swirls it a bit, something heavy on his mind. When he looks up at Hob for the first time since starting the meal, his eyes are deep and terribly, terribly knowing.

This is hardly the first time Hob has bared himself to this impossible creature. It will likely not be the last.

He does not back down, but rather rises up and meets it.

“Why do you not call me by my name?”

Hob blinks at the seeming non-sequitur. Rolls with it and shrugs. “You haven’t given me permission to use it.”

Dream hums at him, recognizes the insolence and decides to find it amusing. “Having my love would not be the safest thing for you, Hob Gadling. To have it would be your ruin.”

Fog, briefly, skirts the floor of the New Inn before vanishing. Hob can almost taste the Chateau Laffite 1828 on his tongue. 

And may each and every one of us give always the Devil his due.

It is far too late to be warned about what loving Dream of the Endless could mean for Hob Gadling. He is too far past the point of no return to worry about something as simple as being ruined.

He will claim, and even mean, that he spent those 106 years in Roderick Burgess’ basement because he wanted the world to keep spinning for the selfish reason of wanting to continue to live in it.

But that does not change the fact that he still took Dream’s place in what turned out to be the closest he has ever gotten to Hell on Earth because Hob was in love with him.

That he would do it again, no matter the cost.

“Some things are worth the danger, dove.” Hob stepped back up to the table, leaning forward until they were eye to eye. “You are worth it and I would say that every day if it would help you to believe it.”

Dream appears to be holding himself back with every ounce of his control. His emotionless façade long cracked down the center, laying bare the controlled urge to claim and possess. “Be sure, Hob Gadling. I may not let you go.”

Hob leans in, not away. They will talk about boundaries after Dream is convinced he is allowed to touch. “You may have me, dove. Now and as long as you will have me.”

Dream’s control finally snaps as he near springs up from his chair. Hob barely has time to register the hand reaching around his head and tangling in his hair, before he is pulled into a kiss that borders on desperate. He sinks into it, melting into that mouth that steals his breathe from him and leaves him thanking it for him. He can still taste hints of the wine and meal as he chases that clever, sharp tongue.

Dream pulls away, as if belatedly remembering that Hob is human and it is human habit to breathe, even in dreams. Licks his lips as if Hob has a taste and he wishes to savor it.

Hob watches the flash of pink like a parched man would water in the desert.

“You may use my name.” The Dream Lord’s fingers loosen their grip on his hair. His touch becoming a caress along Hob’s check as he begins to pull his hand away.

Hob, feeling brave, catches his arm and presses his lips to that wrist were a pulse might have been were this being anything as simple as human. “Thank you, Dream.” Whispers the name against the skin beneath his lips like a prayer.

He feels the shiver as well as sees it this time. Reluctantly releases his grip when Dream pulls away.

“Thank you for the meal, Hob Gadling. Your gratitude has been received.” He stands in one smooth motion, more graceful here in his domain than he ever is in Waking. “I will see you again, soon.”

With a wave of his hand, Dream sends Hob back to the Waking world.

Hob opens his eyes to the ceiling of his bedroom. His ankle, true to prediction, is a soft ache that will be gone by the end of the day, if he is careful. 

For the next hour before his alarm goes off, Hob lays there as for the first time since he met the Herald of Destruction on that ordinary day in 2189, he feels the unintended consequences of his choice - and the wish behind it - fully sink in.

There is no possible ruin that could come from bearing Dream’s love that will compare to the pain of outliving him when Hob inevitably loses him.

He had thought he knew what he was getting into when he decided to marry Eleanor and father children with her. It had nearly destroyed him when he vastly underestimated how terrible it was to lose someone you loved with all you had.

Yet he knows, just as he did with Eleanor, Robyn, and his unborn daughter, he will weather this pain because getting his heart broken will have been worth the happiness, however short it lasts.

He had survived her death and the death of their children. Eventually.

He had survived Dream’s death, the first time.

He can only pray he will survive it a second time.

Interlude: 1989

[phoenixyfriend]

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Matt: At what age does the medical transition begin, with medication?

Michelle: So, medical affirmation begins when the patient says they’re ready for it. So, that could be a kiddo who is just starting puberty and panicking because they’re getting breast buds, or their penis is getting bigger and busier and they’re worried about all kinds of masculine changes. And that way, puberty blockers, which are completely reversible and don’t have permanent effects are wonderful because we can put that pause on puberty, just like if you were listening to music, you put the pause on, and we stop the blockers and puberty would go right back to where it was, the next note in the song, just delayed that period of time.

Matt: One of the drugs used is Lupron, right...

Michelle: Mmhmm...

Matt: ... which has actually been used to chemically castrate sex offenders?

Michelle: You know what? I’m not sure that we should continue with this interview, because it seems like it’s going in a particular direction.

Matt: Well, you’re a medical professional.

Michelle: I am a medical professional.

Matt: So, you don’t want to talk about the drugs that you give to kids, or...?

Michelle: Again, I’m a physician and I use medication. You’re choosing exploitive words. Drugs. I give to kids. Chemical castration.

Matt: I’m choosing a word that was in the dictionary.

Michelle: That’s not a correct term for puberty blocking.

Matt: Well, I can look it up on my phone. I’m pretty sure if I looked it up...

Michelle: You can look it up on your phone.

Matt: It says: “medical definition: the administration of a drug to bring about a marked reduction in the body’s production of androgens and especially testosterone.”

Michelle: And I’m saying, as a paediatrician, who takes care of hundreds of these kids, when you use that terminology, you are being malignant and harmful.

Matt: I mean, there are some who would say that giving chemical castration drugs to kids is malignant and harmful.

Michelle: It’s about the context of caring for a child and seeing the... suffering that kids can have that have not been in an affirmative home situation.

==

Meet gender ideology’s Jenny McCarthy. Meet gender ideology’s Jim Bakker.

https://segm.org/UK_HighCourt_Rules_PubertyBlockers_Experimental

Describing puberty blockers as simply a “pause button,” “completely reversible,” “life-saving,” or “evidence-based” is untrue and misleads patients, their families and the clinicians responsible for their long-term health.

Full text:

The UK High Court determined that the provision of puberty blocking medications (GnRHa) to stop normally-timed puberty in gender dysphoric young people is experimental (1). The judges recognized puberty blockers as the first step in a trajectory that almost invariably leads to later prescription of cross-sex hormones with irreversible consequences. Because of this, the Court ruled that persons under age 16 are unlikely to be able to provide valid informed consent, as they lack the capacity to properly comprehend and evaluate the profound and life-long impacts of these interventions. Additionally, the Court issued caution for those between the ages of 16-17, as young people have a limited ability to comprehend the profound life-long implications for sexual and reproductive function and other health risks. With this ruling, the High Court has set up an expectation of accountability of the health professionals engaged in the provision of pediatric medical transition.

The UK High Court’s conclusions reflect growing concern among a significant number of researchers and clinicians about the poorly understood rapid rise in the number of adolescents with gender dysphoria, and the marked lack of evidence that hormones and surgery improve long-term health outcomes.

Three separate reviews of the scientific literature (a review by Professor Carl Heneghan, the director of the University of Oxford's Centre for Evidence-Based Medicine; the Swedish Health Authority evidence review; and the Finnish Health Authority evidence review) conclude that the research evidence for hormones to alleviate gender dysphoria in young people is insufficient,(2–4) rendering these interventions experimental. The Endocrine Society, which outlined this hormone protocol for young people, also conducted a review of the evidence and concluded that the quality of the evidence was low to very low (5). [Update: In 2020, the UK National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) undertook two systematic evidence reviews of hormonal interventions for gender-dysphoric youth and concluded that the evidence basis is of very low quality, calling for a need to carefully weigh the low-certainty benefits against the significant risks of these interventions.]

Gender medicine is a relatively new field with a limited and shifting evidence base. In 2020, the scientific debate about biomedical interventions for gender dysphoria intensified as serious methodological flaws and misinterpretations of studies underpinning the current treatment model were exposed. A major study alleging evidence of mental health benefits of biomedical treatment for adults was corrected; a revision concluded that neither hormones nor surgery are of any benefit in terms of long- term mental health or suicidality (6). Two other widely cited studies purporting benefits of puberty blockers and suggesting harms of psychological approaches to gender dysphoria were also found to have errors and misrepresentations that invalidated the papers’ conclusions (7,8).

The author of the experimental protocol of biomedical interventions for young people (known as the Dutch protocol) published a commentary in Pediatrics in October 2020 alerting the medical community that biomedical transition is currently being applied to young people for whom it was not designed and might not benefit (9). The author emphasized the need to identify those people who need enhanced mental health support, rather than gender reassignment.

There has been a marked and poorly understood change in the profile of the young gender-dysphoric patients in recent years, from primarily males with childhood-onset gender dysphoria, to predominantly females with adolescent-emergent gender distress and a significant burden of comorbid trauma, mental illness, and neurodevelopmental difficulties. This recent phenomenon has been noted by gender clinics worldwide, highlighting how little is currently known about which approaches will lead to optimal outcomes in this population.

Based on the current research and documented evidence, SEGM asserts that the long-term outcomes of puberty blockers for the treatment of gender dysphoria are not known. Numerous outcomes are yet to be clarified, including whether there is long-term psychological harm or benefit, whether suicide rates are increased, decreased or unchanged, and whether blockers contribute to longer-term persistence of gender dysphoria, necessitating life-long medical treatment with adverse impacts on morbidity and mortality.

Describing puberty blockers as simply a “pause button,” “completely reversible,” “life-saving,” or “evidence-based” is untrue and misleads patients, their families and the clinicians responsible for their long-term health. The prescription of puberty blockers to gender-dysphoric young people with normally-timed puberty is experimental. Thus, puberty blockers should only be offered in formal, approved research settings, with rigorous study designs capable of generating useful information.

Overconfidence is dangerous in science and medicine. All ethical practitioners must humbly recognize the significant uncertainties in the field of gender medicine. We sincerely hope that the judgement of the High Court will mark the beginning of international commitment to rigorous clinical investigation into the most effective treatments for children and adolescents experiencing gender dysphoria. Until a reliable, quality evidence base emerges, young patients and their families should be supported in exploring all available options before undergoing invasive, often irreversible interventions with unknown long-term implications.

https://thepostmillennial.com/gender-affirming-surgeon-admits-children-who-undergo-transition-before-puberty-never-attain-sexual-satisfaction

‘”An observation that I had,” said Bowers, “every single child who was, or adolescent, who was truly blocked at Tanner stage 2,” which is the beginning of physical development, when hormones begin their work of advancing a child to adulthood, “has never experienced orgasm. I mean, it’s really about zero.”‘

‘Bowers said that an additional concern is that when a boy child undergoes this process, the penis does not grow, which makes it hard to take that genital material and surgically give it the appearance of the genital area of the opposite sex.’

https://cass.independent-review.uk/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/Cass-Review-Interim-Report-Final-Web-Accessible.pdf

‘There has been research on the short-term mental health outcomes and physical side effects of puberty blockers for this cohort, but very limited research on the sexual, cognitive or broader developmental outcomes.

In the short-term, puberty blockers may have a range of side effects such as headaches, hot flushes, weight gain, tiredness, low mood and anxiety, all of which may make day-to-day functioning more difficult for a child or young person who is already experiencing distress. Short-term reduction in bone density is a well-recognised side effect, but data is weak and inconclusive regarding the long-term musculoskeletal impact.

The most difficult question is whether puberty blockers do indeed provide valuable time for children and young people to consider their options, or whether they effectively ‘lock in’ children and young people to a treatment pathway which culminates in progression to feminising/ masculinising hormones by impeding the usual process of sexual orientation and gender identity development. Data from both the Netherlands and the study conducted by GIDS demonstrated that almost all children and young people who are put on puberty blockers go on to sex hormone treatment.

A closely linked concern is the unknown impacts on development, maturation and cognition if a child or young person is not exposed to the physical, psychological, physiological, neurochemical and sexual changes that accompany adolescent hormone surges. It is known that adolescence is a period of significant changes in brain structure, function and connectivity.

During this period, the brain strengthens some connections (myelination) and cuts back on others (synaptic pruning). There is maturation and development of frontal lobe functions which control decision making, emotional regulation, judgement and planning ability. Animal research suggests that this development is partially driven by the pubertal sex hormones, but it is unclear whether the same is true in humans. If pubertal sex hormones are essential to these brain maturation processes, this raises a secondary question of whether there is a critical time window for the processes to take place, or whether catch up is possible when oestrogen or testosterone is introduced later.

An international interdisciplinary panel has highlighted the importance of understanding the neurodevelopmental outcomes of pubertal suppression and defined an appropriate approach for investigating this further. However, this work has not yet been undertaken.’

==

Michelle Forcier is either a pathological liar (knows it’s false) or perilously ignorant (doesn’t know it’s false) about what she’s saying. Either way, she’s dangerously unqualified to be medically altering children - or “kiddos,” as she flippantly quips - who are in distress.

Notice that her priority is to affirm them, not help them.

[cuntycassandra]

Discussing Omega’s childhood on Kamino

Maybe I’m one of the only people curious about this as we’re all very hung up on Crosshair right now (understandable, I want our king back too), but I would really like a conversation between Omega and preferably Hunter, but anybody works fine, to delve into what her life was truly like on Kamino. How she was treated, raised, reprimanded, and how this all reflects on her relationship with the bad batch, and specifically in moments where their actions have fatherly intent behind them.

So, here’s what we know so far:

She was essentially raised by Nala Se.

She’s a first gen/holds unmodified Jango Fett DNA. Whether she was created at the same time as Boba, we don’t know, although it is unlikely.

Due to the fact she was unaltered, she must’ve been raised from infancy on Kamino.

She wasn’t allowed her own bedroom, so I speculate she either slept in the medical wing or had some sort of shared quarters with Nala Se.

She was frequently tested and experimented on, quite often against her will.

She was perceived to be property and nothing more than an evaluative source to help further Kaminoan research by everybody excluding Nala Se (potentially)

Her title role was a ‘medical assistant’.

She didn’t have a very warm relationship with the other clones, as we’ve seen they labelled her a “lab scrapper”.

She made friends with the existing medical staff, who were all droids.

And that is essentially it. Of course, we can make speculations, (a few of mine are: she must’ve been tormented by the other cadets for not being like them, she knew 99 and he kept her company whenever Nala Se left her alone, and that although she was educated accordingly for her medical training and basic education, she was very sheltered from things without ‘purpose’ to her life (as we all know, the Kaminoans don’t do anything without purpose) but we don’t actually know anything else about her time on Kamino!

First of all I really want to know WHY she was created. Taking into account she isn’t the same age as Boba (it’s very much suggested she isn’t, I mean she acts, looks, sounds and is treated significantly younger than Boba ever was), and Jango also didn’t request two unaltered clones, she must’ve been created a few years after Boba. Therefore, was Jango aware of her existence? And if he was, did he want her? Again, if so, what did Boba think of her? (We don’t actually see Omega’s reaction to being told she’s different, so although she might not have known of their exact relations to her, it’s very likely she could’ve potentially met Jango and Boba at some point.) So many questionsssss.

Moving on, I’d love to know more about her relationship with Nala Se. We’ve seen that the doctor has a soft spot for Omega, most definitely because she raised and grew to love her instead of deeming her a piece of property (not excusing Nala Se’s vile actions with the other clones, she can still rot, Omega has better parental figures now.), but was it always like that? Did she neglect smaller Omega for being just another clone? Before ‘Mega could show personality and differentiate herself, did Se still view her as nothing more then a test subject? How did that affect her relationship with Omega as a young child.

Speaking of which, what was Omega then like as a smaller child (hard to believe, she’s still so smol lmao), but I’m talking toddler age here. She is basically a regular person, going through regular human changes due to the fact she isn’t altered, which means she would’ve had all of those wretched toddler phases that parents dread. We can most likely assess that she was playful and curious, she still is now, bless her, but how was it received? Smaller children don’t have the complexity to understand the level of technicality that the Kaminoans work at, she wouldn’t have understood the necessity of sitting still and behaving, would she have been severely reprimanded? Was Nala Se nice to her about it? How was she raised to interpret mannerisms of other people in regards to this?

Furthermore, I want to know what tests they were performing on her too. She’s clearly important due to her first hand DNA, but before that was an asset, before the Kaminoans needed that, what were they doing to her? Why were they testing on her? How much pain was she in? Did she receive any comfort afterwards or was she expected to dry her eyes and get on with it? (I’m speculating it was the latter.) I need to know what they were doing and why. What was the purpose!

Her entire previous life is a huge mystery to us and I want to know more! And I hope I’m not the only one!

Just looking at her precious little face hurts because we know she didn’t receive the ideal childhood, if anything it was borderline abusive (I mean, not just testing on her, but the mind games the Kaminoans played with this poor kid, the fact she was well aware she was just an asset to their research and yet she constantly received mixed messages. It’s no wonder she idolised the bad batch so much; they seemed to be the only people who hadn’t either treated her like garbage at some point up until then, or died. Honestly despite the few slip ups, props to them for actually taking her in and being decent towards her.

I mean, this isn’t the purpose of this post, but just look at the comparisons.

She finally receives her own bedroom.

Said bedroom isn’t even a proper room, but they made do with what they could. She even acknowledges this and she still absolutely loves it. It’s decked out just for her with fairy lights, blankets and toys.

As said, she actually owns toys now, we don’t know if she ever did on Kamino, but I’m speculating it was most likely very few if any at all.

She has her own weaponry and equipment, she’s actually being assisted to defend herself and her squad, she’s gaining knowledge the Kaminoans wouldn’t have ever dreamed of giving her.

As we’ve seen with the amount of times she runs to Hunter for protection, she trusts them immensely. They’re doing everything right to gain her apprehensive trust so quickly.

And of course it isn’t just with Hunter (I’m a stan so pardon my consistency with bringing him up) but she’s the same with the entire batch, even Cross to a very mild extent! She trusts Wrecker with her life, she forgave him so easily after the Bracca incident because she knows the difference between someone purposefully trying to hurt her and them having no control over their actions.

We see she’s been patient with Echo and Tech, she loves to listen to them, she’s picked up on Tech’s dialect (as seen in episode seven) and she trusts him to help her whenever necessary, she has such a touching bond with Echo too, their little interactions melt my heart.

I could rant for hours about her bond with Hunter, so maybe that should be it’s own post at some point, but honestly just how she always seeks him out specifically for comfort, protection and reassurance. It’s so beautiful.

The way she’s addressed Crosshair over their few co-existent moments too. She’s tried to reassure him it isn’t his fault, because she knows it isn’t, she trusts him because she has no reason not too, everything he’s done and said to her hasn’t been within his control.

These are all severely different reactions to how she responds to both the Kaminoans on planet, whenever they’re mentioned, and from what we know in regards to how they treated her.

I’m repeating myself from a previous post here but honestly petition to give Megs all the hugs in the universe. She deserves ‘em. 💛

[fandomwriterstuff]

Perseus Achilles Jackson was the only human aboard the USS Olympus, and he was proud of it. He worked twice as hard as everyone else to get his dumb species into space and his team was very open and proud of him.

But, they weren’t always aware of human customs. This had happened on multiple occasions.

Here are the accounts of the two times Percy’s crewmate boyfriend was so shocked he nearly (or actually) fainted, and the one time he wasn’t.

The first time, they hadn’t been dating. Percy dressed rather conservatively while he was at the academy, not like he would were he on his home island of Kauai. But the first time Percy met a Plutonian was also that Plutonian’s first time meeting a human.

“Human Perseus, hello!” Niccolo DiAngelo was a handsome fellow, Percy noticed on the first meeting. Olive skin, dark eyes, and black hair along with his humanoid shape were all typically attractive looks in Percy’s books, but he also had these huge majestic black wings that Percy ached to touch. That was besides the point.

“Hey, Niccolo DiAngelo, right?” “Just Nico is fine,” the other male smiled as he got closer. Ah! Another species that bared their teeth in friendship… At least Percy hoped that was the case.

“Just Percy is fine too, no human and no Perseus,” Percy smiled back and stuck out his hand. Luckily, Nico was well versed in human gestures and took Percy’s hand for a rather formal handshake.

“I was wondering what the metal fixtures are on your eyebrow. They don’t seem to serve any medical purpose?” Nico asked, still smiling as if to try not to offend Percy with his questions.

“Oh, they don’t! They’re just adornment.”

“They are just… For appearance?” Nico cocked his head and lost his smile. Percy only laughed though.

“Yup! It’s the only piercing I have, but other humans have dozens.”

“How are they applied?”

“With needles, they first poke the hole in the skin and then they apply the jewelry,” Percy demonstrated by pulling at his eyebrow piercing to show off the bar.

He tried not to laugh as Nico’s beautiful olive skin turned more greenish than should be normal.

“I want more but it’s a little expensive to get good quality stuff,” Percy added.

“You paid someone to poke a hole in your face?” Nico practically squeaked.

“I sure did! Wait til you hear about tattoos!” Percy chuckled and left Nico with that thought.

“I need to get off this planet,” Nico choked out.

“Hah!” Percy laughed out loud and patted Nico on his broad shoulder. “Good luck with that buddy. Seeya in class!”

The second time it happened, Nico and Percy were studying for an exam together in Percy’s dorm. It was late and they’d stopped studying a while ago and were asking personal questions to pass the time.

“So you can’t touch another Plutonians wings unless you’re either a family member or a romantic partner?” Percy asked for clarification.

“Yup,” Nico munched on his ramen, something he found he actually enjoyed and could palate.

“Okay, interesting. Now you ask me something,” Percy leaned back against his bed and stretched his legs out.

“You told me about tattoos, and I definitely looked it up,” Nico’s cheeks burned a little greener at the thought. “Do you have any?”

“I do!” Percy beamed. “You might not have noticed because there are so few humans, but I am about three years older than most of the humans here. I did a three year stint in the American military and was sent overseas during wartime. So I have tattoos that commemorate the lives I took, so that they will never be forgotten,” Percy frowned, and Nico didn’t like that.

“Can I see them?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course, but I have to take my shirt off, and I’m going to have to ask you not to fall in love with me,” Percy winked jokingly at the already blushing Plutonian and made a show of taking his shirt off.

“Whoa,” Nico gasped, and reached out before drawing his hand back, knowing it wasn’t customary to touch another person without permission. Percy’s chest and arms were adorned with patterns of waves crashing and flowing. It was simple and beautiful but still ornate. “And how do they administer these again?”

“They have an electric needle that shoots dye into the epidermis-”

“They have what?” Nico choked.

“Is it the electric needle part or the shooting dye into the skin part that’s freaking you out?” Percy raised an eyebrow. He pulled out his phone to show Nico a video of Percy getting his first tattoo and the big strong Plutonian male completely zonked out and fell over on the floor, much to Percy’s amusement.

“Next time I go to get one,” Percy smirked, leaning over Nico’s body as the other male opened his eyes. “You’re coming with.”

Nico only groaned.

The third time, they were two years into a deep space exploration when they were travelling to Earth for shore leave, and Percy came back to their shared cabin with a devilish smile on his face.

“Neeks? You there?” Percy called into the bathroom. Huh, he would just have to wait for his boyfriend to come back. Percy laid spread on their bed and read his book until Nico came back.

“Hello there,” he said in his best Obi Wan impression when said boyfriend walked in, blue shirt neatly pressed with nary a wrinkle in it.

“Perseus,” Nico sighed. “What did you do?”

“What? Why would you sound so… so.... You love me, don’t you?” He countered.

“Of course I love you,” Nico sighed and laid down, burying his head in his boyfriend’s clothed stomach.

“Well I got another piercing.”

Nico groaned.

“Actually two.”

“I’ll never understand you humans,” Nico lifted his head and peered around Percy’s head at his ears. “Where are they then?”

Percy responded by gingerly removing his own shirt and presenting his new nipple piercings to his long time boyfriend. Not sure what to expect, Nico’s blushing green cheeks and ears were not what he expected.

“That is not what I expected,” the taller male commented quietly. “Did it hurt?” He frowned.

“A little, and they’re going to be a little sore until they heal completely. But I love them,” Percy smiled again, proud of his life decisions.

“I… also love them? I think?” Nico sounded confused at his own reaction and Percy laughed.

“I thought you might,” he pulled Nico (gently) on top of him and pulled him into a kiss.

“They’re kinda hot,” Nico murmured into the kiss, still at odds with himself.

“I thought you might think that too.”

“You do know me pretty well.”

“Wait until I tell you about my next piercing: the Prince Albert.”

[thefanficmonster]

Partner

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort

Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.

“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.

“And we can’t thank you enough.“

The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.

“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.

On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.

“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“

They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”

While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.

“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.

They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.

Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious. “Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“

Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”

                                                               *  *  *

“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.

Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.

“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“

Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”

“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“

“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“

“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.

“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“

Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“

“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“

Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.

“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.

Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”

“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.

Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“

“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“

Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”

He needn’t be told twice

[shemarmooresfedora]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

-

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

-

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

-

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

-

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

-

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

-

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

-

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly