#i don't know how to explain it okay i don't think i CAN it just

[keirareidss]

the delivery - s.r

♡ summary: spencer anxiously waits on you to decide when to go to the hospital pairing: husband!spencer reid x pregnant!wife!reader warnings: basically just that episode of the office (S6 E17), reader is pregnant, descriptions of pregnancy, contractions wc: 3.3k from the results of this poll

Nine months. Nine months you'd suffered nausea, fatigue, back pain, swollen ankles, swollen breasts, and mood swings. And nine months your husband had tended to you hand and foot, getting you everything you needed, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

You had continued going to work, staying out of the field but needing the fulfillment of doing something during the day. Spencer had protested but ultimately lost the debate. You just had to promise to be careful, stay off your feet as much as you could, and let him know immediately if something went wrong. He didn't care if he was halfway across the country, he'd hitchhike his way back if you had so much as a foot cramp.

Rossi and you had gotten closer during your pregnancy, him bringing in home cooked meals, whatever you had been craving lately, and eating it with you at lunch while explaining how he made it and what went into it. He was very precise with how his dishes were made and the fact that you were hungry a lot more often meant he could try out some of his new recipes on you.

You were sitting in the kitchenette with him now, trying his new spin on pesto pasta.

"I was thinking, maybe we should do something special before you go on maternity leave. One last perfect meal."

"Mmm, that sounds great, what are you thinking?"

"I think it should be a surprise." You suddenly feel a tightening pain in your stomach and your eyes close, lips pressing together as you let out a groan of pain.

"Ooh. Getting close, huh?" Emily asked, shutting the fridge door and leaning against it, looking at you with a grimace.

"No no. I still have time." You waved her off. You planned on waiting until midnight to go to the hospital so you could have a full extra day there, surrounded by doctors. It just pained Spencer to see you having to push through the pain.

You were standing by the copier when you got another contraction. You reminded yourself, they're irregular and far apart, so you'll be fine. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your hand found your back where the pain was the worst.

Spencer's head snapped up watching you carefully as Derek came around the corner, Penelope in tow.

"You're having contractions? That means you're in labor right? You should go to the hospital." Derek suggested, sending you a sympathetic glance.

"We're not going to the hospital yet, we're going to wait until midnight." You said, your voice tight as you shuffled back to your chair, Derek following close behind.

"Oh, why?" He asked, leaning against your desk as Emily and JJ lifted their heads to listen in.

"Because the insurance company only covers two nights." Spencer explained.

"Everything's fine. We have plenty of time." You assured them all.

"Did you know that labor can last weeks? Then they take your insides out, and they just plop them on the table, and sometimes epidurals don't work, and-"

"Okay, okay, thanks Pen, that's really good to know. Thank you."

You let out a breath as your contraction ended. Spencer, who'd been watching from the copy machine, rushed over.

"That's seven minutes. Here we go. This is happening."

"Hold on, hold on. You chuckled, cutting him off as he bent down, trying to help you stand from your chair. "It isn't midnight yet." His excited smile dropped.

"Are you serious? Angel..."

"No, the doctor said every five to seven minutes."

"I-"

"I'm gonna be okay, we should really try to make it to midnight."

"Honey, please."

"Yeah, you really should try to make it because if your baby's born tomorrow, he'll have the same birthday as the late great Johnny Hodges. The greatest saxophonist of all time."

"Did you hear that? Johnny Hodges." Spencer scoffs with a smile and stands up.

"Okay, but we are leaving at five minutes apart."

"Five minutes." You nodded as he backed away to his own desk.

You sank into your chair, eyes closed, as the pain slowly subsided.

"Okay, okay, okay, okay..." You whispered breathily. Spencer's eyes were locked on you, worry clear in his face. Your eyes open and you catch his stare. "Okay, stop watching me."

"Okay, crazy. I think I have some better things to do with my day than worry about you, like figuring out dinner." He said sarcastically.

"Mm hmm."

"Steak is 20% off, well now till Friday, that's a big deal, while we're on the subject, why don't I just run you down to the hospital and just do a quick check?" You click your tongue, shoulders still tense.

"Not till midnight." He purses his lips defeatedly.

"So have you guys thought about names yet?" JJ asks, standing beside your desk, a warm mug of coffee in her hand. God, you missed coffee. The sweet dark taste of it, warming your mouth- alright, stop thinking about it.

"We actually have them picked out already." You said, smiling at Spencer.

"Uh, Diana Lily Reid if it's a girl, and Jude Gideon Reid if it's a boy."

"Oh, those are so cute." JJ gushed. You chatted for a couple minutes before your next contraction came on, jolting through you. Your hand found your stomach as your face scrunched in pain. JJ squeezed your shoulder in support as Spencer ran a hand through his hair.

"Angel, we really should-"

"Spencer." Your tone was scolding and he quickly shut his mouth, biting the inside of his cheek. The contraction passed and you took a few deep breaths.

"I think this is a bad idea." Spencer mrumurs.

"I know, honey, why don't you practice diapering again?" You suggested to get his mind off of it.

"I've already done that, I'm down to 21.3 seconds." He mutters, his leg bouncing. He'd been practicing changing diapers on anything he could find, a fake doll he'd brought in, a football from Derek's desk, he'd even practiced on one of Penelope's large cat figurines.

You were on your way back to your desk from the bathroom when you felt another contraction, the worst of them, shooting through your abdomen. You stopped in your tracks, changing course to one of the couches near the door. The cushions provided you with little relief, though, Spencer noticed immediately and rushed over, sitting next to you and taking your hand.

Your eyes shut tight, you squeezed his hand hard with your other hand over your stomach, groaning in pain.

"Oh! Oh, alright." He shifted on the couch, grabbing your clasped hands in his other one as you threatened to break his bones in your fist. "That's a good one." Spencer winced.

"Ow... okay." You breathed out, letting go of Spencer's hand. He bent, his elbows on his thighs as he put his mouth in his hand, deeply considering his life choices.

"Honey, maybe we should-"

"Don't even suggest it Spencer. We're waiting."

"I know." He sighs. He sits with you, rubbing you back soothingly and around six minutes later, another contraction comes on.

"That's every six minutes." Emily chimes in, checking her watch.

"Okay, you know what?" Spencer shifts restlessly in his seat, moving to stand. "I'm gonna go give the doctor a quick call, he'll probably know-"

"Spence, please." He sits back down next to you, glancing at the ceiling for a moment before looking down. "Happy thoughts here? Happy times."

"Why don't you just figure out the ways to induce labor and do the opposite of those?" Morgan suggested.

"You know what? Great idea, Derek, let's do that." You agreed, reaching out to take your husbands hand. Derek turned, looking up a list.

"Alright, number one, stimulate her nipples."

"Easy, no one's doing that, move to the next one." Penelope said and Derek scrolled down. Spencer bent, putting his hand in his hands, elbows on his thighs as he bounced his leg and tugged at his hair.

"Uh, walk around. Great she's already doing the opposite of that."

"Number three. Having sex. Well what's the opposite of having sex?" Penelope said and Spencer shot up from his seat, shaking his head.

"Nope, nope, come on, let's go to the hospital,"

"Spence,"

"Let's go to the hospital now."

"Spencer, honey, I love you,"

"Mhm." He said tensely, putting his hands on his hips.

"But you're really distracting me from my distractions."

"Okay, well, I'm sorry."

"Why don't you go do some work?" You gestured to his desk and he ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Great. I will do that. Sorry, I just feel a little bit frazzled and you know how very rarely I use that word."

"I know. You don't like to be frazzled."

"No, I don't." He said, sounding a bit like a grumpy child as he walked back to his desk. He stops to grab a stack of books on pregnancy that he's kept close just in case before walking out. Hotch, having come out of his office to watch the amusing spectacle, followed him out, a bit worried about his anxious protegee.

~

"I know her better than anyone in this office, and obviously she's gone crazy but everybody wants to say that I'm crazy. But I'm not crazy, she's crazy. I'm not crazy, she's crazy." Spencer repeated, pacing the hallway, his hair tousled from constantly running his hands through it.

"Reid." Hotch says gently.

"No, no, she's not crazy, I shouldn't say that. She's just pregnant. But she needs to be at the hospital and she's not listening to me."

"Reid." Aaron repeats but Spencer sinks to the floor, grabbing a book as his legs stretch out into the middle of the hallway, his back against the wall as he quickly finds the page he's looking for.

"Five to seven minutes." He points to the line in the page, grabbing another book to find the same information. "Five to seven minutes." It's almost as if he's talking to himself as he grabs a third book, searching for the information again. "Six minutes- different, but not really." He picks up the fourth book as Aaron watches on silently. "Five to seven minutes."

Spencer's head falls back against the wall as he looks at the ceiling. His gaze falls down on Hotch across from him.

"Reid, take a break. You're stressing yourself out here. She knows herself and she knows her body. She'll come to you when she's ready."

"You're right." Spencer mumbles, getting to his feet. "I think I'm gonna go sit in the car for a bit. I need some fresh air." Aaron nods, watching him leave, a hand threading through his hair and tugging slightly.

Spencer is sitting in your car in the parking garage, staring off into space when he hears a gentle knock on the window. He sees you giving him a soft smile and rolls the window down, leaning closer to you.

"Hey."

"Hey." You gave him a small wave. "I'm not gonna get in the car, because I know if I do you'll try to drive me to the hospital."

"You know me too well." He chuckles anxiously, the smile quickly falling, replaced with a tense expression.

"Okay, Spence?"

"Yeah?"

"Everything is fine,"

"Totally." He mumbles.

"You don't have to worry, try not to think about it. She's not coming out for a while, okay?" You chuckled a bit, trying to reassure him. He smiles but it quickly drops when he registers what you said.

"Did you say she?" You smile falls as well.

"I called the doctor, like, a week ago. I couldn't wait." His eyes go hazy as he stares at the spot next to you. You can't gauge how he's feeling and a pit forms in your stomach. "Oh, go, don't be mad." You breathed.

"Mad?" His eyes are teary as he looks up at you. "How could I be mad? We're having a little girl."

"Mhm." You let a small, hesitant smile form, still unsure of what he's feeling.

"We're having a little girl. Oh, wow." He sighs and you giggled a bit in relief.

"I know."

"All right. Well I definitely feel better."

"Good." You grinned, leaning down to kiss him through the window opening. He turns to watch you as you head back inside but he notices something.

"Hey, did you change?" You turn back around.

"Oh, yeah. My water broke." You giggled.

"Oh." He chuckles and you turn, walking away and his smile quickly falls. "Oh."

You walk back inside, shedding your coat but you quickly pause as pain shoots through you.

"Oh! Woah..." You pause to lean against the wall and Derek gets up, rushing to you. Hotch looks up, coming out of his office to survey from the balcony. "Haa!" You breathe out, Derek steadying you.

"Okay, alright, it's time, time to go to the hospital, somebody get Reid."

"No, not yet Derek, it's not midnight yet. And I still need to try Rossi's dish, where is he?" You head to the kitchen as Derek looks on helplessly. He shoots a text to Spencer who comes up quickly, though, he knows he won't be able to convince you to go to the hospital.

You sit down with Rossi in the kitchenette as he prepares the meal. Spencer paces nearby, his thumb and pointer finger working at his temple, his other hand stuffed in his pocket, clenched into a fist.

"Alright it's essentially a three course meal. First, we have Bistecca alla Fiorentina, a steak that was grilled to rare perfection, and then we have-" He cuts himself off when he notices that your face is all scrunched up and your hunching over slightly. "Are you okay?" He asks, reaching out to put a hand on your arm.

"Mhm." Your voice is tight and in a higher pitch from the pain. "Yes, I'm fine. Um..."

"Are you sure?" He asks gently.

"Yeah, the doctor said it's still considered a minor contraction as long as I can talk through it!" Your voice breaks at the end, raising louder as the pain sharpens.

"Okay, Spencer-" Derek, who'd been sitting by, watching with worry, called to his friend who rushed over, immediately looking down at you. "I think it's time to go to the hospital.

"Alright, time to go? Let's do this."

"No, no it's better." Your voice was a wavering whine as you tried to breathe through it. "That wasn't even the worst of 'em- I'm fine." Spencer bends slightly, his hand on your back.

"Hey, come on, let go to the hospital."

"They're not that bad still, Spence." He says your name in a firm voice. "No, it's passing, it's fine."

"Honey, it's time. Let's go to the hospital."

"It's okay." You whined in protest.

"I really think we should go to the hospital."

"No it passed now, it's fine."

"You know what, I'm not asking anymore." He reaches down, one hand at your back, the other grabbing your arm as he tried to pull you to your feet. Rossi's hand was at your other arm, more hesitant in trying to help you up. "We got to go."

"No, I'm not going."

"We need to go." He changed his positioning as you resisted his attempts.

"No, no come on, I'm not going, okay?!" You shouted, making all three men back off in surprise but you were staring directly at Spencer, your eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not going today, because I can't do it, I don't think I can do it." Your voice broke as tears sprung to your eyes and Spencer immediately crouched down in front of you, his hand on your knee as his voice soffented.

"Hey, hey, are you kidding me? If anyone can do this, you can do this. If you can take down two unsubs on your own with no back up, you can do this. Angel, I'm scared. But the best news is, we're having a baby today. So let's have it at the hospital." His gentle voice successfully soothed you and he turned his head slightly to address Derek. "How are we doing on contractions?"

"Two minutes apart."

"Two min-" Spencer froze, tightening his lips.

"Oh god." You said as you realized what that meant. "Oh no." Spencer stood, turning to face Derek.

"Morgan I told you to warn me at five minutes."

"Spence, we waited too long." Your voice was filled with worry.

"We waited too long. Two minutes doesn't do us any good-"

"I know." Derek tried to calm him.

"Well, what happened to four and three?" Your breathing sped up as tears started forming again. He sighed sharply, running a hand through his hair and turning back to you.

"I don't wanna have my baby here." You whimpered.

"You're not going to, you know where we're going?"

"The hospital."

"Yes and we're going to have a baby, okay?" You nodded and Spencer gently helped you out of your seat but, internally, he was freaking out, forcing himself to put a brave face on for you. He ran to get your bags from the desk before rushing back, putting an arm around your back to lead you out of the precinct.

"Oh, good luck, guys!" Penelope called to you, the team gathering in the middle of the bullpen to wish you goodbye.

"Bye, good luck!" JJ smiled brightly, as the two of you hurried out the door.

After nineteen long hard hours of labor, she was out, cleaned up and swaddled, in your arms. Spencer was laying in the bed beside you, his arms gently around you as he stared at your baby in awe. She was beautiful, the perfect mix of both of you. Diana Lily Reid, named after Spencer's mother and your favorite flower, had Spencer's eyes and bone structure, and your nose and lips.

"She's perfect." You whispered, brushing your pinky down her tiny nose, barely grazing her skin, not wanting to wake her.

"I know." Spencer agreed. You turned to look at him. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

"Better. Still a little sore." He hums, kissing your temple.

"Good." The door opened slowly and Penelope poked her head in.

"Is this the little baby Reid?" She asked quietly, coming into the room. The rest of the team was behind her with various gifts, Derek carrying balloons, Aaron holding a teddy bear with a bow around its neck. "Oh, she's gorgeous!" Penelope gushed.

"I made you a bunch of easy meals that you can heat up, I dropped them off in your fridge on the way here." JJ told you and you gave her a grateful look, grabbing her arm.

"You're a savior, JJ, thank you." She smiled.

"And we're all offering babysitting and cleaning help whenever you need it." Hotch gave you a smile and you felt tears pricking behind your eyes and the immense display of kindness.

"You guys are so sweet." Your voice wobbled and they all smiled. Spencer reached over, wiping the tears that slipped out and ran down your cheek. Spencer let you hand him your daughter as you composed yourself.

"If you guys want to hold her, there's hand sanitizer on the table over there." Spencer nodded to the nightstand. Emily was first, sanitizing before carefully taking the baby into her arms.

"Hi, baby. Hi." She cooked, smiling down at her. Diana yawned and everyone gushed as her. You knew right away that this baby would be loved by everyone in her life. She'd be close with all her aunts and uncles, closer with her parents. You'd give this baby the best life imaginable, showering her in love and care, knowing she deserved every bit of it.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni, @pixie-verse

[towasdandelion]

Texting Jabberwock and Frostheim ghouls "If I get arrested you're my one phone call"

Something silly for today (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) (before we dive into some angsty angst)

At first Ren throws his usual "okay" but then he rereads and he's actually very concerned? Just what the hell is happening if you're saying stuff like that? His head is instantly filled with weird scenarios of him having to help you "clean up" after whatever you did. How annoying! (Notice how he's concerned more about the work that comes with it rather that your supposed crime? Yeah that's Ren for you) At least you can still count on him!

Towa is not happy at all! What do you mean one phone call? Arrested? He's confused. Who is daring enough to try taking you away from him? He'll make them regret. If you don't want to experience a sudden downpour and thunder that will make everyone pray for their lives then you better explain what's really going on... It might take a while to reassure him but he will understand in the end, more or less. Well, at least you know he's got your back no matter what! (I feel like he would defend you even if you did something bad so..)

Haru's eyes widen when he reads your message. Did his sunshine get into trouble? Just how bad is it? Before you can explain what's going on he's already abandoning his work and gathering his stuff, ready to go wherever you need him. With that being said, he does breath a sigh of relief when he finds out you were simply testing his reaction. He'd hate it if something bad happened and he wasn't there to help you. I guess it doesn't even matter if you're the one at fault or not..

Tohma lets out a sigh, silently hoping you're not actually being serious. Though unfortunately he's already used to your... "talent" of getting in trouble. Well at least he knows how to stay calm. That's the experience speaking! You just wanted to see his reaction hm? Good, then he won't have to deal with a new batch of work. What work you might ask? He won't hold back from anything when it comes to helping you out. You can be sure of that.

Jin is always ready for whatever you might want to throw at him I'm pretty sure (as long as it can be solved with money) so he won't waste time asking unnecessary questions. Just tell him whatever is going on later, he needs to know that you're safe first! Oh you were just joking? Well too bad cause he wasn't. He actually demands you to come to him first before acting. Will support whatever you want or come up with something even better. So be careful, okay? Just saying.

Kaito is on a verge of passing out. He had his fair share of "interesting experiences" so his mind is filled with scenarios of what possibly happened! And right now when he got you to be his girlfriend? Life is so unfair! Anyways, don't expect him to just wail, he would actually help no questions asked, even if it meant risking going to jail with you. You were just seeing his reaction? Oh thank God. He already has your whole wedding planned in his head and he's glad it is going to happen after all. (Hint hint katio you gotta pop the question first)

Luca is the sweetest ever, always. He will literally never judge you even if he personally disagrees with something. Are you in distress? Do you need to talk? He's right there for you! He'd rather have you talk to him first instead of jumping into action without thinking. He's calm and collected too. Whatever it is he will help and make sure you're okay. Oh, it's just a reaction test hm? Well, it doesn't change anything. Everything he said and did was sincere.

[fallenrocket]

Here's an interesting theme that stood out to me during my recent OFMD rewatch: the best way I can explain it is, being dumb is not treated as a vice. We see numerous ways that the characters are smart, observant, ahead of their time, etc., but that goes hand in hand with many moments of them also being delightful idiots. And by and large, the narrative doesn't punish them for it.

lol, Frenchie thinks cats are witches, and his flag is lame! But that cat flag becomes the British navy's blood-soaked symbol of the scourge that is the Gentleman Pirate and his crew. How's that for badass?

lol, Ed literally puts his life in the hands of dubious science--"The liver? We don't even know what that thing does!" But both he and Stede survive taking a sword on the left side with no lasting harm.

lol, the Swede wants to sing during the fuckery, that's not scary! But he does sing, it is scary, and Blackbeard himself praises his singing voice.

Note: being naive is a slightly different animal. Stede's naivete about piracy gets him in trouble more than once, like drinking nose juice or getting stabbed by the Spanish. This is especially true when he refuses to listen to people who know better. That said, he's still able to scrape through plenty of situations where he otherwise would have died.

We also see multiple instances of the characters treating each other kindly over something dumb.

When the Swede wants a little baggy to save his teeth in, the others don't laugh at him. Instead, Roach is gentle with him as he explains, "Thing is, Swede, teeth don't work like that. Once they're out, they don't go back in."

I just love this exchange between Frenchie and Pete: "Hey, this free drink shit is for the birds. You know what I mean?" "Birds love...drinking for free?" "No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, there's money to be made. Let's get our grift on." Frenchie's "no, that's not what I mean" isn't at all judgmental or mocking. It's just like, Oh, I see, you don't get it--let me say it a different way. He does, Pete understands, and they get their grift on! No harm, no foul.

For the most part, being dumb is only treated as something bad when it hurts others.

Stede and Pete's harmful assumptions about the indigenous tribe reinforce why they're in the cage and Oluwande isn't.

The crew's invasive and clueless questions about Jim's gender are met with anger and, in Frenchie's case, a knife at his throat.

The ignorant rich folks at the fancy party are very easily duped by Frenchie and Olu, then manipulated by Stede.

I can't quite explain why, but I really like that this is a show where being dumb is okay. It's fine for them all to be silly little guys. Their friends won't really think less of them for it, and they're still going to find a way to make it out alive. There's something so sweet about that.

[femmesport]

Almost Something - Chapter Four

an: this is the shortest chapter of all and i am so sorry! i am really not feeling any better and i don't want to let you guys down on getting another chapter out. my hope is to work through another chapter before tomorrow and get it up tomorrow. wc: 1.5k (i am so sorry)

Paige was frustrated. The kind of frustration that was searing underneath her bones and threatening to spill out. She felt it culminating. The worst part? She had no one to blame but herself.

She was convinced that her and Azzi could do normal. They would do normal. Unfortunately, her brain and heart are not communicating. Any time Azzi comes near her or touches her in purely platonic normal ways, her heart starts beating and her breath picks up.

So here she was, at the end of practice. The team had decided to go get ice cream together. They would ride in as few cars as possible, and shove as many bodies in as they could. 

As usual, Paige would drive. Also following their usual routine, Azzi was back in the front seat of Paige’s car. Unfortunately for Paige, Azzi had also decided to lean in her direction, it made it easier for her to turn around and look in the back seat. Azzi also would randomly grab Paige’s phone out of her lap to queue another song before returning it to its spot.

Paige had gone mostly silent. Her hands gripped the wheel and her jaw ticked at her own frustration with herself. But, she remained silent.

Remaining silent would turn out to be a fatal mistake when Azzi reached over and put her hand on Paige’s shoulder softly. She leaned in with a lowered voice and Paige’s whole body tensed up.

“Hey, are you good?” Azzi asked with a voice so soft and kind that Paige couldn’t help but melt into the words.

She was unsure of how to respond though. Was she physically fine? Besides Azzi’s hand on her, yes. Was she mentally fine? No. Why? God, there wasn’t enough time to unpack all of that.

“Mhmm,” is what she offers out instead. Azzi frowns.

“P, we’re best friends, what is wrong? You can tell me anything,” Paige wanted to laugh and cry. How can she call them best friends and think Paige would be fine?  

“Nah, I’m really okay,” Paige sighs, not sparing Azzi a glance, “I think I am just tired and…stressed out. Classes and stuff.” Paige explains.

“Classes… and stuff?” Azzi furrows her brows and her thumb begins soothing circles on Paige’s shoulder.

Paige’s grip tightens on the wheels and her jaw is clenched so tightly she is sure her teeth will crack at any moment.

“Yeah, just life, basketball, you know. The usual” Paige grits out and Azzi nods solemnly.

“I just wish you would talk to me,” Azzi begins in a voice so low Paige barely hears it, “I hate that you carry it all on your own.”

Paige just lets the words linger. She can’t really say everything she wants. She knows she is being unfair and even selfish, but she knew the second she opened her mouth, her most cherished friendship would be gone. If protecting that made her selfish, it was just something she had to live with.

“I think the ice cream place has a new flavor,” KK excitedly squeals from the back seat as the car goes mostly silent. Paige looks up in the rearview mirror meeting her eyes briefly. She nods in appreciation but lets the rest of the car erupt in conversation.

Paige kept her eyes on the road and her hands firmly on the steering wheel. She let the noise around her bleed into the internal battle she was raging with herself.

The ice cream shop had a mostly empty parking lot. There were three cars and two of them were pulling in full of student athletes with an insatiable appetite. The cars unloaded and everyone began filling into the tiny shop with voices clashing with each other.

The team began filing towards the register in small groups. Individuals ordering mixtures of flavors that Paige could only imagine to be frustrating to the overworked and underpaid teenagers behind the counter.

When it was her turn she stepped up towards the counter but felt a smaller hand wrap around her elbow. The hand turned her around so that she was facing Azzi.

“Hey, I forgot my wallet. Is there any way you could cover me and I could pay you back or get you another time?” Her eyes were soft and her cheeks red with mild embarrassment.

Azzi always hated relying on other people. She felt bad taking from others and in this moment, Paige could read that thought weighing across her face.

“Uh, yeah, of course. You can order first” Paige smiles in return tucking her hands into her pockets.

Azzi smiled up at Paige with a look that had Paige feeling way too mushy for the middle of an ice cream shop. 

“Thank you, P. I owe you” Azzi is grinning before stepping forward.

She places her order while Paige stands back and watches Azzi’s excitement melt into a natural conversation with the cashier about ice cream toppings. Azzi had the ability to befriend anyone and talk to anyone in a way that would make them feel special.

Paige simply observed with what she was sure was the most love sick grin on her face. Eventually Azzi turned around to Paige waiting for her to order. Paige’s eyes never left Azzi. Not while she ordered.

The two stepped to the side to wait for their order and for a moment it felt normal. It felt like an evening that would lead to them being cuddled up on a couch talking about anything and everything. It was enough to make Paige pause.

It only lasted a few moments until Azzi’s phone was buzzing. Based on the smile that adorned her features after looking, Paige could guess who was on the other end. 

At that the normalcy of it all faded and Paige took a physical step back. She hoped Azzi wouldn’t notice the distance, but she needed to give herself space.

While Azzi was busying herself with the phone, Paige stepped over to where Amari, Aubrey, and Caroline were standing and laughing.

“P, did you see this video?” Amari is turning her phone around and sharing whatever the group had been laughing at.

Paige appreciated that no one said anything about the distance she was putting between Azzi. She fell into conversation with her group. She was settled by their lack of acknowledgement and the normal she could get.

“Paige,” she hears the call that her ice cream is ready. She walks up and grabs hers and Azzi’s.

She handed Azzi’s off and continued walking back to the group. Paige really didn’t want to avoid Azzi, but she struggled to be around Azzi if she was just going to smile dopily at her phone while some guy texted her.

“Hey, P,” Azzi called out and Paige turned around seeing a frown on Azzi’s face.

As much as she needed the space, she couldn’t handle seeing Azzi upset. She looked back at her friends with a sheepish smile before letting them know Azzi needed her.

Paige walked over to Azzi who had settled in a booth. She had planned on sitting across from her until Azzi patted the seat beside herself.

“Okay, I know this is me being dramatic,” Azzi starts before wrapping her arms around Paige and leaning her head on Paige’s shoulder. Paige once again feels her body tense at Azzi’s touch.

“My professor just emailed me and was tearing my project to shreds. He was saying it lacked professional application. Then he was insinuating that all I was good for was basketball,” Azzi was trying to play it off as her being dramatic, but Paige saw the flush on her cheeks and embarrassment lining her features.

“Are you serious? Which one?” Paige shifts to better face Azzi who was trying to hide herself in Paige’s side.

“Dr. Johnson,” Azzi just sighs dramatically.

“Az,” Paige lowers her voice and Azzi is tilting her head so her eyes are on Paige–if Paige’s heart skips a beat, no one needs to know, “you should really report him. He is so unprofessional and disrespectful to you.”

“I know he has had bad experiences with student athletes, but I am trying so hard and he is just so dismissive,” Azzi deflects and Paige wraps one arm around Azzi’s shoulders.

“I know you don’t want him to get in trouble, but think of all that could be affected if you don’t pass this class,” Paige tries to reason.

Azzi just stares up at Paige, blinking but silent.

“You gotta advocate for yourself,” Paige finishes off voice so quiet it was clear it was reserved for just Azzi.

Azzi smiles up at her, “thank you.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for always being there for me and looking out for me,” Azzi whispers out in a voice so low Paige wasn’t entirely sure she heard it.

“Of course, that is what best friends are for,” Paige voices, using the same words that sent her spiraling earlier.

“No, it’s what you’re for. No one takes care of me like you do,” and Azzi is leaning her head back down and returning to her ice cream.

Paige sat frozen at the words. How can she say those words and then still go back to Tyler?

Please repost, like, and leave your feedback! Thank you!!! <33 -- tea ★’*•.¸♡

[enhadolly]

. 𖥔 ݁ SOFT HEARTS & WHISKERS — y.jw

【 猫 】 . ݁ SYNOPSIS : adopting a pet kitty with won . GENRE : sweet tooth fluff . PAIRING : bf!jungwon x fem!reader . WARNINGS : writing is all in lowercase , not proofread , petnames , mentions of pills/medicine , mentions of sneezing , mentions of kissing , etc .

𝗲𝗻𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆 commented : lowkey a long fic ... enjoy !

　　　 𝜗ϱ　　　˚　　　⁺

the morning light beamed through the curtains, soft golden lines arranged across the bed, where you and jungwon slept. you were wrapped in the most softest blanket, genuinely half-asleep. curled beside you was jungwon; looking like a cute kitty sleeping. his arm was loosely slung across your waist, his hair ruffled because of sleep, his lips slowly separating.

you yawned, rolling over to look at your boyfriend. "good morning, won."

"5 more minutes..." he groaned, burying his face in his pillow.

you giggle, carefully poking his cheek to get his attention. "babyy, wake up!"

"ok ok fine!" he groaned again, eyes finally opening up. "i just had... a dream."

"about what?" you ask, suddenly curious.

"we... adopted a... cat..?" he said, somehow unsure of his answer.

"a cat?" you replied, your heart skipping a beat, for no reason at all.

"yep, a cat. it was so cute too.."

"but baby, aren't you allergic?" you said, pouting.

"yeah.. but.. you have to understand me! cats are cute, and i know you love them! if i take enough of my allergy pills, i'll just sneeze instead of die." he explained.

you sighed, slowly rubbing your temples. "you're lucky you're cute, jungwon.."

"you think i'm cute?!" he said, a smile spreading across his face.

"you're also stupid."

"oh? me?"

you gave him one of those side eyes, but you couldn't help but smile back at him. "fine.." you start, defeated. "we're going to the shelter.. but it has to be hypoallergenic. i'm not having you sneezing all over the house."

his eyes widened in fear, "like hairless cats? eww..."

"no.. they lowkey creep me out too.. please.."

a while later, you arrive at the cat shelter. you had told jungwon to take his meds, incase he sneezed up the whole place.

an employee led you to a separate room. "here are the more low-allergen cats." she explained, softly smiling. she walked out, letting you two look at the cats.

as you looked at all of the cats, you had the urge to say "awww..." to all of them.

as you sat down, playing with all of the precious kitties, one came up to jungwon, curling right onto his lap.

he looked up at you, tenderly smiling. "i think it's fate.."

you scootched close to him, watching the cat purr cutely. " oh my gosh... yes!" you squealed.

"can we name her miso.. please?" "i like it.. it's warm and kind of healing.. just like you."

his eyes watered slightly — either from the allergies, or how happy he was.

you press a kiss onto his cheek. "yes baby, we can name her miso. just don't sneeze all over her, okay?"

"kay.."

that exact night, you were back in your bed, with a new addition sleeping between you. jungwon started sneezing again.

you tut, handing him the box of tissues. "see?"

"it's worth it though!" he said as he blew his nose.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "okay fine.."

@ki2rins @chromenishi @yuuuraaa @beomev

[nayrawrites]

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Oc

Title: Three Simple Knocks

Summary:

Wanda unexpectedly gets a new roommate, and doesn’t know that the stranger isn’t who she claims to be. Secretly, the woman is there to give Wanda Maximoff the happy ending she deserves

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female OC

Status: Ongoing

Words: 23k+

Tags: strangers to lovers, roommates, slowburn, soulmates

Ao3:

Wattpad:

Chapter 1: A Stranger

The weirdest things happen on the most ordinary days.

And it was one of those ordinary days when the witch heard a knock on her untouched door. Just three simple consecutive thuds on dusty wood. The sound of it was so unknown to her, it took a while until she was capable of placing it.

The visitor waited patiently, as Wanda made her way to the door in caution, her steps hesitant. She'd never really liked visitors and she liked the unannounced kind even less.

It could've been anyone from S.W.O.R.D. or maybe even a former colleague from her time as an Avenger — though that was unlikely, given how little of them were left, and how even less of them cared to think about her.

She turned the knob and opened the door. However, she was not greeted by either of those options —at least not to her knowledge. Instead, she was facing a beautiful woman in simple attire. Quite young, or maybe that assumption was just the effects of the vibrant energy she exuded.

"Can I help you?"

"Hey, yeah, it's me," silence. The smile she was sporting grew more awkward. the longer the silence stretched. "I'm Lucy." she clarified.

Wanda raised an eyebrow in confusion, as she scrutinized the woman in front of her. But there was no way Wanda knew the stranger.

"What do you want?", no matter how friendly the almost forced smile was, Wanda was not going to let it fool her.

"Oh, didn't Clint tell you? He said I could crash here." Only now did the witch notice the yellow backpack almost slipping down from one of the shoulders and the slightly bigger suitcase leaning against the wall of the house.

"Kinda figured he'd have sorted that out with you first...", she trailed off.

Her stern resolve falters slightly at the mention of him. Though that only added to the prominent confusion.

"Clint Barton, guy with an arrow, hearing aid?" The woman nodded hastily at the description. If the situation had been different, the uncanny resemblance to a bobblehead would've been pretty amusing. But the situation wasn't different and ever since her last fiasco, Wanda had to be on guard.

"Why would he say you could crash here?"

Ever since the funeral, Clint and her hadn't really stayed in touch. She didn't mind. She knew the loss they had both suffered and she also knew that he would use up all his time to be with his family. Five years was a lot to catch up on. She would have done the same.

After the events of the Westview Anomaly, he had texted her.

It'll be okay.

That was all it said and quite frankly, it was enough for her to break down. She assumed, he most likely waited for her to call him, not wanting to pressure her into confiding in him, but the call never came. It's not like she didn't try but no matter how long her thumb hovered over the call button, she couldn't ever actually make herself take that leap. She was too ashamed. And she was too afraid he'd think that sentiment was deserved.

So maybe it wasn't too far fetched for him to send someone. Perhaps this was his way of calling her.

"Well, I'm new here and don't really have...anything actually," she chuckled awkwardly, "Clint found out through a mutual friend and said you'd have some space." Lucy explained.

"You sure he didn't mention me?"

The witch resisted massaging her temple at the womans babbling and just motioned for her to come inside. This required a cup of tea, or five.

"I think I'd have remembered, if he did." She watched Lucy grab her belongings and rush through the door with a small smile on her face. One step closer to the goal, she supposed.

As Wanda closed the door behind Lucy, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and gestured with her hand to another door further down the house.

"I gotta make a call. Just- stay.", at this point, she could've told her to fetch a stick or walk in a circle too, but she just shook her head and left the room.

Now that she was alone, her back slumped against the door, she took a second to herself and just breathed. She wasn't sure, if she needed that second because she was just blindsided with that strange woman or because she knew, she had to contact Clint now.

Most likely the latter.

Her finger hovered over the call button yet again, and she hated it. Hated her hesitance.

God, just do it.

So she finally did, her phone now resting against her ear, as she waited. Wanda always disliked the beeping of a ringing phone and the anticipation during it. She just wanted to get it over with. The call, however, almost immediately went to voicemail. She tried dialing his phone number two more times but it was of no use.

Sighing in defeat, the redhead went back to the living room, where she left Lucy.

The woman in question was busy inspecting the coat rack, her luggage tossed next to the front door.

"Nice red jacket," she commented, before turning around to face Wanda.

"Thanks, I guess."

She never actually got to give it back to Nat.

"Listen...Lucy, was it? You can't stay here." short but at least straight to the point.

Wow, she could've at least pretended to think about it, Lucy thought.

This was probably the first time she saw an expression that didn't include a smile on her face, her mouth parted and eyes widened instead.

"What? But Clint-"

"I can't reach him and he didn't ask. I don't know what he was thinking but this isn't a bed and breakfast. If what you're claiming is even true." The raise in her voice was more imminent by the end but Lucy didn't let that rattle her. It's not like she had any other options after all.

"It's true! Have I ever lied to you?", she protested.

"Well, no, but we also just met, so."

"Fair point." she sighed.

Lucy took a couple steps closer towards the uneasy woman, her hands lifted, to show that she came in peace. "Wanda, please. I-I could help out around the house, you know, I make a mean bowl of instant ramen. And it won't even be that long. Just until I find something else."

The pleading look was hard to resist but Wanda didn't know her and there was no way to confirm her story. Oh, how easy it would've been to just slip inside her mind for a second. Yet she knew she couldn't do that. She wouldn't, not after Westview. It was her own rule ever since. In no way would it ever redeem herself for all the pain she caused, but it was a start. Besides, it was already difficult enough focusing on her own mind.

Nevertheless, that meant she could only rely on whatever Lucy was claiming unil she got a hold of Clint.

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she stepped closer to Lucy and looked at her. She could sense the awkwardness it caused in the woman but chose to ignore it, too busy with making a decision.

She examined her, starting from the dark hair, reaching barely past her shoulders, and trailed her eyes lower, ending at the minions socks on her feet.

If she ever looked back on this moment, she would probably admit that this was the reason for what she was about to say.

"Fine, you can stay."

A woman with a pair of minion socks couldn't possibly harm someone.

She really hoped she was right.

Lucy let out the breath she was holding and a bright grin adorned her face. She clasped her hands together in exuberant glee.

"Yay," a tad too much excitement, "you won't regret it, I promise."

And there was something —maybe a glint in her eye, that showed the determination and certainty behind that declaration.

Wanda almost believed it.

If you liked it, feel free to check out the whole ongoing fic

[unlimitedhearts]

I used to think it was enough to not give her money. I used to think it was enough to only engage with fan content. To OPs last point I'm literally NB and I was doing mental gymnastics to justify why engaging with fan content was okay.

I'll give you a hint: if you have to do those kinds of mental gymnastics just to "enjoy" your fandom content? You know you shouldn't be here. Your justifying it doesn't change that deep down you know you should not be here.

"I'm not giving her attention," I would say, "I'm giving attention to the fanartists!" The echo chamber went and still goes as such. Within HP Shipping spaces everyone was content to say "Fuck JKR" and create the fanart and fanfic, thinking they were calling attention to just themselves. Fandom attention within the fandom.

"HP is so old now, there's no way that anyone who wasn't already here is going to stumble upon this and get introduced to HP now."

But you're just lying to yourself. I've gotten into series because of fanfic. I started watching Supernatural way back when because of SPN fandom. The media doesn't always beget fandom and in the way things are going, more and more often, fandom begets the attention to the original media.

Parents read their kids HP still. That stupid game introduced people to HP. That stupid HBO show is coming out and will introduce yet more people. Young kids especially. New fans get bred every day and they might or might not have the development to understand that your fanwork is not a cosign. Even if you put "FUCK JKR!!!" at the top of every authors note or fanart, you still lovingly created the thing itself that puts the characters she made on a pedestal.

So its fuck her but not her characters or story. For a new fan who a) might not know what she is and what she supports or b) literally cannot understand why you would make a thing for a person you hate, this messaging is confusing.

AND ITS SO IMPORTANT TO NOTE - I WAS RIGHT THERE DOING THE SAME THING. THIS IS NOT A STONES GLASS HOUSES SITUATION. I WAS LED TO BELIEVE THAT WAS ENOUGH. I allowed my lens to be focused so NARROWLY that I missed the big picture FOR YEARS. Myself and other trans fans missed that fandom activity does not care about the boundaries of fandom, it'll go as far and as wide as it can.

Fandom does not exist in a vacuum. And JKR herself has made herself such an integral force over HP, that Death of the Author does not apply. You cannot remove her from the property she made, this isn't Orson Scott Card, and she did that on purpose. She and Harry Potter are intertwined forever.

Here's a video that more succinctly explains why 4 YEARS AGO.

And here's another video that explains even more how your justification means NOTHING because it is still giving her fuel for her transphobic fire.

Social clout is a currency. We live in an attention based economy. Now you might be thinking "Well Harry Potter has been so big for so long, its huge. Having all those people not involve themselves as one mass collective action is impossible. So I might as well enjoy it, its pretty much self sustaining."

If it takes a year, two years, three years, MORE! THE TIME. WILL. PASS. ANYWAY. Would you rather that time pass while she amasses more power? Or would you rather watch it slip from her fingers.

Yes, the HP fandom was huge, but i don't think its as huge as you think anymore. If the people who have stuck around all this time just let go? Move on, find something else to fixate over, and we COLLECTIVELY stop pumping out free content for her, it'll certainly make a dent in her audience. It'll make a statement. It'll start a push to help larger collectives understand that there is no standing for this. There is no justification good enough to completely throw trans folk under the bus.

Harry Potter is not the only thing out there for you to love. There's PLENTY. Go find it. Leave this behind. Stop giving her attention. Because whether or not you're saying "Fuck you JKR" until you're blue in the face, she will leverage it to hurt more and more trans people.

There are plenty of other good things for you to go nuts over. Plenty of things that'll bewitch you mind body and soul if you let them. HP does not have to be the be all end all of the things you love.

once again, if you like ANYTHING harry potter related: you did this

[the-daughter-of-a-wolf]

THE OLD GUARD 2 THOUGHTS AS I AM HAVING THEM AAAA

LITERALLY NOTHING BUT SPOILERS PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!

I have never been more anxious about hitting play on a movie in my life

I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH AWOOOOO

the violence feels a lot more cartoony than in the first one

like sure, there were gratuitous gore shots in that one as well, but they feel... idk, more goofy and over the top here

also I get starting on an action sequence, but the extreme violence against a horde of random guards feels a lot harder to justify when you don't really know the stakes. like yeah sure guns bad, but so bad that you have to very violently murder this many people over it?? maybe I've just gotten soft in my old age

man I am worried about the Uma Thurman plot. I am very anti-adding new (old) immortals at this point, but I hope they explain it in a satisfying way later on

QUYNH AAAA OOOOWWWW WAUGHH

me chanting to myself with tears in my eyes when Joe asks for some space: "I WANT THEM TO HAVE ARCS AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! I WANT THEM TO HAVE ARCS AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!"

OMGGGG OKAY THAT'S A GOOD DEVELOPMENT. OUCH. AWOO. YES.

like okay yay Tuah I don't mind him, but how are you just rewriting the immortals lore now?? also why would Copley's discoveries change Andy's mind if Tuah was already doing the same thing??? raaahhhh!!!!

also you'd think this whole Discord situation would've come up in conversation between Tuah and Andy before now like hello???? something you might need to know?!

Godddd Andy and Nile make me feral!!! Also if they don't acknowledge Andy and Quynh romantically I'm throwing my laptop off the balcony

OOHHHH that glimpse of historical Nicky and Joe has me screamingggg

I'm actually really happy so far with how Andy and Quynh's reunion is being handled!

ohhh how I wish I gave a shit about the Discord plotline. but alas. I really don't

NOOOO YOU'RE KIDDING ME. please don't explain the becoming mortal thing. please don't. that's so fucking stupid. also how convenient that there are these very specific legends about this very secret thing that only applies to a very few specific humans and that almost no one knows about! this is the lamest shit I've ever heard

oh Booker my sweet baby angel ;___;

Booker trying to wingman Andy into fixing things with Quynh HEEEELLLL YEAH.

OH SHIT THIS IS JUICY!!! Booker using Nile to try to become mortal???? OUGH OW OUCH WAUGH OWWW. I mean that sucks and is so cruel to Nile, but. JUICY. (also unrelatedly, goddd Nile is so fucking hot!!!)

J U I C Y !!!!! AAAAAAAA!!!!

FUCK ME UP NICKY ALRIGHT 😭😭😭😭

THIS IMMORTALITY TRANSFER IS THE STUPIDEST SHIT I'VE HEARD IN MY LIFE!!! SO NOW IT'S A GAME OF HOT POTATO????? jesus christ

ALSO DOES THIS NOT NEGATE THE WHOLE DISCUSSION THEY HAD ABOUT STUFF MEANING MORE WHEN YOU ONLY HAVE LIMITED TIME????

Oh I am BIG MAD about Booker's death. That's a real mean stunt to pull on Andy.

Also can we talk about how this is a giant retcon??? ANDY HEALED FROM WHEN NILE STABBED HER, DIDN'T SHE? Like, the first time she noticed her wound not healing was after the church fight? she would've noticed much sooner if Nile's stab wound hadn't healed. so it wasn't a case of "the first wound inflicted by the newest mortal takes away the healing", right? or am I tripping. but either way that's so fucking stupid.

it would've been much much juicier for Quynh to realise Andy's not immortal than the other way around.

god Andy is hot in this movie. the lesbian mullet. awooga awooga.

dude as anyone who knows anything about consent can tell you, consent given under torture is not consent! it's never going to be "fReELy gIVeN" if you torture them to do it! dumbass.

WHAT THE

WHAT

WHAT

WHAT

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING MEEEEE?????????

THAT'S WHERE IT ENDS???

I'M SORRY?????

dude you're lying to me

THAT'S...

I'm legit speechless.

THAT'S NOT EVEN SEQUEL BAIT, THAT'S AN UNFINISHED MOVIE! WHERE'S THE FUCKING REST OF IT?!?!?!?!

IT TOOK YOU FIVE YEARS TO GET THIS SEQUEL OUT AND YOU DECIDED TO LEAVE THE CONCLUSION TO THE NEXT MOVIE???? WHAT IS HAPPENING??? YOU'RE NOT GETTING A THIRD MOVIE YOU FUCKING IDIOTS!!! SO THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS????

I am gobsmacked.

did not see that coming

0/10. fuck you.

(EDIT: okay I hit "post" the second I was done so that ended a bit harshly so I will amend that there was a lot to like about this, as I hopefully brought up in my notes! I loved all the interactions between the main crew, most of the Booker stuff was handled really nicely, and I liked a lot of the things they did with Quynh's return. but that final curveball really shat on my enjoyment of this movie big time. so it's not actually a flat 0/10, but my god it sure was not a well-made movie, was it. OOF.)

[deikshen]

I think about the absolute chaos that would entail if Shen Yuan were an omega in his modern omegaverse world—then transmigrated into PIDW, where the omegaverse doesn't exist! That's not real!

But Shen Yuan doesn't even notice it in the first place because:

a) Cultivators have highly developed senses. Not only better hearing and sight, but also a better sense of smell – even though everyone smells different, it’s still a sensorially charged world for him!

b) Even if he don't have glands, he STILL have his own personal scent. Like everyone else. It's just that with his more developed cultivator senses, he's able to sense and differentiate them– Plus he's gotten used to doing it quickly because he was mentally accustomed to it in his old life!

c) There are a lot of weird timed herbs out there (from Shen Jiu to control his erratic qi and help him not have strong deviations) and the now Shen Qingqiu just assumes: Oh well, these are the suppressants, it's okay.

d) His ducklings continue to awaken all his protective instincts. He's clearly an omega, even though Shen Qingqiu is, because there's no other way he can be so damn maternal to all of them!!!

So Shen Qingqiu continues doing things from his old omega life: nesting, stuffing himself with herbs to avoid disastrous hormones– He understands that because the original goods have such a bad relationship with the other peak lords no one gives him things to nest in like his family did. But that's okay! He gets things from his disciples, especially from his sweet little sheep Binghe.

– even Binghe no longer takes apart his nests after he scolded him a lot and made him run around the peak for taking it apart and putting it in the wash! Bad Binghe! The nests are important and must not be touched!

(Although he feels a little bad; after all, the washerwoman who adopted Binghe was beta, it makes sense that Binghe doesn't know – but he also doesn't have time to explain it afterwards because he just forgets.)

And basically: Shen Qingqiu goes through his life completely believing he's an omega. He still is. Nothing has changed. When he is poisoned with Without-a-Cure, he only talks about "herbs" to Mu Qingfang, he shows him the ones he's been using (he doesn't know their names) and Mu Qingfang simply supplies him without asking. Which is great! Shen Qingqiu doesn't experience any annoying heat and everything works perfectly! How great xianxia medicine!

... I honestly think this silly guy would fool himself that he's an omega until he realizes he doesn't have a self-lubricating hole lol king of denial in everything, we love you

[visualtaehyun]

Hello I'm going to try learning thai from 1 July so it's today I think as it's 12:30 am here but whatever and ur blog is a godsend right now !!! I haven't checked all ur posts yet but I'm very excited and please tell me if u have any tips or full blown plan on how to learn thai !!!! Thank you in advance!!!!!

Oh hi!! And welcome to my chaotic Thai language corner 🤓

I unfortunately don't have any sort of plan cause I'm just learning by myself while surrounded by Thai media so I just naturally soak up a lot of information 🙏 I'll link you some other people's and previous posts though:

Free Thai language learning resources by @lurkingteapot

Comprehensible Thai and the ALG method explained by @zimmbzon

I also recently found this online language school's materials but haven't looked at them myself 🙏

My number one recommendation is not to rely on learning Thai via romanization or phonemic transcription (which is what I use for my posts about language in Thai series) but to put in some time to learn the International Phonetic Alphabet (IPA)! It's standardized and allows you to understand the actual sound a given phoneme makes which also means you can compare it to other languages you know. The Wikipedia article on the Thai script gives you every consonant and vowel's sound in IPA, both in their alphabetical order as well as in a full IPA chart. :)

If you have any questions, feel free to get back to me! Good luck and have fun ✨

[hrtfeltalex]

More of my terrible humor to explain some things for yall, and for today: LET GO from the ego/physical ☝️

⋆ ֹ ̇ ᜒ ˕ ˚ ᜓ ꥈ 𞥊𞥊 ꥇ ˬ ̽ ֽ ٫ ⊹ ˖ ࣪ ‹ ࣪ ˖ ་ ᳝ ◝ ₊ ׅ ֹ 𓈒 ࣪

THATS how i feel when i see that some of you still believe the "3d (btw i hate this concept with my WHOLE life omg whats that 😭) is just delayed reflex" "3d and 4d" "keep persisting and the 3d will show up" LIKE WHAT THE HELL? IT DOESNT MAKE SENSEE😭😭😭😭

And i'll prove it to you 🤓☝️

Imagine you're in a room surrounded by mirrors, when you move automatically they will reflex it, right? It wont be like "oh okay...well, listen a audio with some affirmation, do 80k affirmations...then i'll reflex" right? OF COURSE NOT, so the physical is not different! The physical always reflect instantly, no matter what, because the physical reflect the imagination, correct? Automatically, they're the same 🤓☝️

"but alex, wtf do you mean by that?" When you're in front of those mirrors, they reflect you, right? (Your ego, but that's thing for another post ☝️) they're not reflecting a monster version of you, then an a Pennywise version of you, no, they're showing just you and only you, you dont look at your reflex at the mirror and be like "dang... that's another me" NOOO, YOU KNOW THAT THIS IS YOUU! And that's what happens between "imagination" and "physical", they're both the same, the difference is the way the mind of the ego perceives it! (and if you believe there's a difference).

"but alex, there's a difference between them bc the way i perceive them-"

No no no no

THERE'S NO DIFFERENCE! If you validate what your ego experiences with their limiting senses, then you're limiting yourself more than you should! You're pure consciousness

You:

────────────────────────────────

You're pure consciousness, you're unlimited, you're everything! The ego always lie down on their senses bc thats what feels natural to them, but you shouldnt do it too, because you're more than that, you're actually EVERYTHING yk? You shouldnt limit yourself at feelings, senses, things that the ego touches, sensations, etc, you're literalmente unlimited! But if you lie on these things, then you're limiting yourself more than you recognize. You're pure consciousness, you have no form, you're not limited somewhere, you simple are, you just are, you ARE. (You are= You are everything. The "i am" thing.) the ego mind is programmed to feel those things, they know every single sensation that the ego should feel when they touch smtg. Many people get very attached to their senses, especially when they are going to "imagine" theyr dr (you are already experiencing it just by imagining it), people always try to feel everything, but dang, let go of it, you're not limited there (ofc if you want to, you can! I'm just saying bc of people who think they need to feel everything to manifest something/shift or whatever).

────────────────────────────────

So just to finish it:

1. The imagination and what the ego sees as "physical" are actually the same time, there's no difference.

2. You're pure consciousness, you're unlimited, if you limit yourself at what the ego feels with their senses, then you should stop RIGHT NOW. The consciousness is everything, anything has forms, the consciousness create everything, don't think that just because the ego sees it with its vision (limited btw) that it does means that it is more real than imagination.

[mellozine]

Kissless Ass Bullshit

Another vague idea I had to write down. I haven't actually finished Jean Loo's route yet (gotta get my specs up!!) so I feel like he might be a lil OOC. I also think I made him and the reader character a maybe little too mean in this one. I don't feel like this is necessarily a shipping fic, but interpret it as you see fit. Also this cleaning out the attic set up is really working for me.

Reader & Jean Loo Pissoir. SFW. Slice of Life. Gender neutral reader. Short. Brief mention of being inebriated and vomiting. Brief mention of a past break up. Not beta read.

“Goddamnit.”

You look at the box of photos that now lay scattered across the floor. At Lady Memoria's behest, you've been making progress cleaning out the attic and, rather than getting rid of all these photos at once, you decided to take them downstairs and sort through them at the kitchen table. With a sigh, you kneel down to gather them back up.

Jean Loo, crouching in the doorway of the ground floor bathroom, scoops up a handful of them and begis sifting through them with a look of disinterest. He lets out a quiet hum as he looks over a photo from your college graduation. “So you did progress past École Élémentaire. For you, this is very impressive."

God, he pisses you off sometimes.

“Ha ha, yeah,” you reply dryly, snatching the photo from him. “You know, you're talking a lot of smack considering one of us is a college graduate and one of us is a toilet.”

Jean Loo bristles, a slight flush blooming across his face.

“You are the one who is talking smack, eh? Remember that one of us is an artiste and one of us is a, how do you say…corporate wage slave?”

“...I don't know why you asked how to say it when you clearly already know. …Jackass.”

“Kissless loser.”

You narrow your eyes at him, showing him the photograph you just snatched from him.

“Jean, I am literally kissing someone in this photograph.”

“Pah! You are being too literal,” he scoffs.

“What. What does that…?” You take a deep breath. “Okay then, Jean, explain to me what kissless means to you, exactly?”

There's a brief moment of silence as his gaze wanders. The wallpaper is suddenly immensely interesting to him.

“It is an, euh…abstract concept. You know? Very difficult to explain.”

You exhale sharply, dragging a hand down your face.

“OHHH MY GOD. I don't know how I put up with you.”

“Hey, hey, do not forget you need Jean Loo more than he needs you! He deserves a little respect, no?”

“Oh, really? You wanna elaborate on that?”

“Par exemple, when you got dumped last year, who did you come to for comfort, hein? You spent the whole night with Jean Loo, clinging to him with your so pitiful crying.”

“I didn't have the Dateviators back then,” you reply with aggravation. “You're a toilet and I was drunk and couldn't stop vomiting.”

“...Jean Loo stands by his statement.”

“And I can't believe you would really bring that up! That was such a hard time for me and you're really gonna throw it in my face like that?!”

Jean Loo says nothing but lets out a huff. You could almost swear there's the tiniest shift in his expression as he idly turns his gaze toward the stairs, but…well, it probably isn't anything.

You glare at him.

“Fucking…absolute kissless behavior.”

“Hah?”

“Kissless ass bullshit.”

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Fuckin’ ZERO SMOOCHES ON THIS MAN!” You continue, raising your voice.

“Jean Loo has had many smooches! More than you can count!”

“Oh, yeah? From who? Name one.”

Another moment of silence.

“...Jean Loo may be a Crapper (note: Cool Rapper) but he is also a gentleman. He does not, as you say, kiss and tell.”

“Okay, so nobody then.”

“That is not…!”

“I got shit to…stuff to do, Jean,” you say standing up, plucking the last of the photos from his hand and walking towards the kitchen.  

Jean Loo retreats into the bathroom and sits on the floor, shoulders hunched, red faced and absolutely seething. He furrows his brow as he stares at the bathroom wall, grasping the flapper that hangs around his neck. After a moment, he catches sight of Sinclaire casually leaning against the door frame.

“What are you looking at, hein?”

Sinclaire lets out a sympathetic sigh. 

“So. Zero smooches, huh, buddy?”

Seething.

[polyamorousmood]

sorry for bothering but im at a crossroads rn, and you seem like the safest place i have rn so im just wondering, theres this friend of mine and whenever polyamory is mentioned is always "i hate poly"

i found this out when we were playing a game of never have i ever and the question "would you ever marry more than one person?" came up, i answered yes, another answered no due to not being interested in it and then my friend (whom well refer to as O) immediately shuts it down in a really hostile way, saying "ew, no i hate poly" which just really messed with me because they've always agreed with me on the fact that love is love and that so long as it's healthy and doesnt have a drastic age/maturity difference that it's alright.

i'm now unsure if i come out to them or not since i thought that (prior to all of this) since they're bi (or pan? i cant remember, sorry.) that they'd be accepting but after playing that game i cant help but think otherwise ☹️

if anyone has any advice, please give me some! i have no idea what to do now since i've been meaning to come out to my friends today.

Okay so I can't advise you because I don't know your friend or your relationship, and much of what you should do hinges on that. But I will give you some options:

Direct communication🗨. You explicitly say something to the friend: "hey can we talk about something that kind of bothered me?... okay so the other day when we were doing never-have-I-ever, you said 'ew I hate poly' like, right after I said I would potentially marry multiple people, and its kind of hard to feel like thay wasn't pointed. Can you explain where you're coming from there?" Maybe they just meant they hate the idea of doing it themselves. Maybe they do have some unfairly bad opinion but would be willing to hear you out. Maybe they really do unilaterally hate it no matter what, and at least you have a clear answer.

Passive aggression 💅 (or, like, indirect signaling). You go out of your way to show your support for the idea of multiple loves, without directly outing yourself. You bring it up a lot, fully supportive, and gauge your friend's reaction. Eventually, they'll probably either be forced to cave or double down. And then you have an answer.

Just drop them👋. Just stop talking to them. Assume they mean bad, and regardless they ruined your comfort with them, so stop all communication.

Out yourself🏳️‍🌈. Maybe they would backpeddle (or quietly stop saying shit like that without formally apoligizing) seeing someone they value is in the demographic of those comments. All the same considerations from 1 apply. I personally wouldn't do this without doing option 1 first, but maybe you wanna pull the big guns right away, or if you out yourself in a group, this may help you avoid a direct 1:1 confrontation.

Ignore it🙈. It was a one-off comment in a game. Just continue to feel slightly less comfortable with this friend, don't out yourself, but otherwise carry on as usual. Not every person I'm on good terms with knows about my polyamory. It doesn't have to be a big deal. Good news is, this is something you can always change your mind on later.

A lot of this hinges on how important this person is to you, how much you trust they'll value your opinion, how much they'll hold their ground, and how capable you are of hearing those comments.

I assume they're pretty important since you described it as a "crossroads", and I can't imagine that dramatic of language for someone only in your periphery. For that reason, I hope you do feel comfortable having a discussion about it with them.

I'm sorry its causing you so much strife. But, if you'll allow me a silver lining🌥: hate can only rise from some amount of awareness. 50 years ago (and even now, depending on where you live), I don't think the response would have been to see it as polyamory, but as cult shit, because no one knew the word poly. Backlash only happens once a critical mass has been reached. There's no reason - and perhaps, no way - to make your identity hating something no one knows exists, or that is seen as "one freak doing freak shit, idk, just ignore it". People using the term, even,disparagingly, is a sign of progress.

[beef-brisket]

Abel stared at Adam: Does it have anything to do with what Peter told me last night?

Adam: Uh- depends on what that easdropping little twink blabbed to you about.

Abel wrapped his arms around Peter as he shrunk back: Pete was concerned, dad. Not just about what you were saying but about YOU. You sacrificed yourself on Earth, you're not doing it here!

Adam: Oh- come on, that was one time!

Abel: It was a bear!

Adam: ONE bear! I could take him.

Abel: Oh, yeah. Tell that to your arm that got torn off and eaten.

The first man waved his left arm around: Look! It's fine, I got it back.

Abel: AFTER you died- okay, look. Please just tell me you're not going to do anything stupid.

Adam: I've come down off that ledge, bud. Trust me. I don't know what the fuck we're going to do, honestly. We're still in the... "what the fuck are we going to do" stage.

Sighing, Abel and Peter sat down on the couch.

Abel: Dad, you really need to think this through. Whatever you're doing, I can already tell that Heaven won't be happy. And the last thing you need to do is to piss them off. Again.

Peter: What about- you tell us what's going on?

Adam: Jesus, Peter, get out of my ass!

Peter froze: W-What-?! I'm not... at least, I don't I am... oh, good lord.

No one paid him any mind when Peter slowly sat on the couch, looking like he was rethinking his whole afterlife.

Adam: But- Peter's right. I- we do have a few things to talk to you about, kid... both of you.

The Devil had a little bit of trouble keeping up with Adam's rambling and joking with Peter but he nodded along anyway.

Lucifer: We should probably start at the beginning.

Adam: Yeah... so, I was made in the-.

Abel: I know, Dad. Eden. I think Dad meant the beginning of how he got to Heaven. Now.

Adam: Huh... alright. Jesus. Whatever. Fuck me, then. Lu came here as part of a deal with Heaven. They'll stop the exterminations if Lucifer hands himself over as a prisoner- and, wow... this is a long story, huh?

-

After explaining everything that has happened over the last 3 and a half months- minus the sexual escapades- but as Adam mentioned the whole 'Sera wanting him to kill Lucifer to become a Seraphim', Abel and Peter looked horrified.

Abel: Dad- you... you're not... actually going to...

Adam: Kill him? No. Nope... unless~.

Lucifer glared: Fuck off.

Adam: I'm kidding! Shit, tough crowd.

Abel: Wait- and... you're going to Hell. With him. In... 3ish months? While Sera and Heaven plot your deaths?!

Adam: Well... I guess? See- THAT is why I wanted to stay here- and STOP them! It'll be super cool- and heroic- and hot-!

Then he remembered what he discovered this morning.

Adam: And- definitely not happening. Nope. No. No way. I've had a long, hard think about it- and year. Not happening.

Everyone stared at him before slowly turning to Lucifer.

Abel: And, how do you feel about it, dad? The aftermath, I mean.

Lucifer: Well... I'm a bit... lost. This has all been a lot, and I don't have a plan... honestly, I have no idea how everything is going to go or how it's going to end. I just... want my daughter and you to be safe... oh, and you to, Peter.

Peter: Oh! Uh... thank you.

Lucifer: All I know is... that it may not be safe. Up here. For you.

Hell's Missing the Devil

@beef-brisket

Lucifer wasn't sure if he had heard Sera correctly but the serious tone and look on her face told him that yes she was in fact serious.

Lucifer: I'm sorry.... What?

Sera sighed, she sounded annoyed: We will put an end to the Exterminations and in exchange you will be up in Heaven as a prisoner.

That..... Didn't sound ideal.

But neither were the Exterminations.

He didn't understand, wasn't the whole point of him falling so that he would never see Heaven again? Didn't that defeat the purpose?

Unless...... There was more to it.

Sera: Think about it. Come back here tomorrow when you've made your choice. Make the right choice for once.

He scowled when she left. What a bitch.

Lucifer did think about it and that's when it dawned on him.

With Lilith gone and now Lucifer, Charlie would have to step up and rule Hell. Which meant that she wouldn't have time to run her hotel.

It was underhanded and sneaky..... It was so Heaven.

But by doing this....... He would be saving his daughter too. He didn't trust them not to go after her one day.

Charlie: Dad you can't.

Lucifer: Sweetie, I..... I know this isn't ideal but it's for a greater good.

Charlie teared up: What am I supposed to do without you!?

It was different when he was just holed up in the manor, at least she knew he was safe at home.

But in Heaven? Lucifer was considered a traitor. Who knows what they would do to him.

Lucifer hugged his baby girl tight: Y-you'll be okay...... I love you.

Charlie: ...... I love you too.

She didn't want to let him go. There had to be a way to bring him home.

The next day, Lucifer went to the embassy where Sera was waiting.

Sera: So?

Lucifer sighed, this felt like a mistake but he didn't know what else to do to keep Charlie and their people safe.

Lucifer: Alright.......

Sera: Good.

She snapped her fingers and a pair of silver bracelets appeared on his wrists and Lucifer suddenly felt very drained. They must be blocking his powers.

With another snap, handcuffs with a chain appeared as well, Lucifer walked with his head down through the portal with Sera.

He would have laughed when he heard Peter freaking out. But any amusement left him when Sera said who he would be staying with.

Sera: You'll be under Adam's watch.

It felt ironic in a way.

Lucifer felt like he had been handed a death sentence as Sera handed his chain over to the first man.

[werezmastarbucks]

interlude: you and 7

U N7 masterlist

word count: 5504

warnings: alcoholism, self-destructive behaviour, Yoongi is in a bad place. time skips; it's a filler chapter for Yoongi's pov while you are in Busan

music: back to me by the rose

february 25th missed call, 12:00 missed call, 12:10 february 26th missed call, 10:20 missed call, 11:00 missed call, 17:41

february 26th, 22:00 no gym? what's going on

march 2nd, 18:35 y/n, can we talk? march 2nd, 19:00 if i did something wrong, please let me know. give me a call march 7th, 10:00 hey, it's weird not having English, i just got used to studying again

march 9, 12:09 i seriously am okay with dealing with whatever you're going through. i just want to understand what happened. it's not fair you speak with everybody but me march 15th, 21:39 how do you choose pears? why do i always buy the green ones

march 16th, 02:40 can i call you april 11th, 16:00 how are you? april 11th, 16:23 i just don't get it

may 24th, 04:50 i am really sorry

june 11th, 12:42 Seokjin is still complaining about the fruit. we miss you. but you probably know that

june 14th, 23:07 can you please text me back. please. i am sorry. we're leaving

2nd of March

Yoongi takes off his hat and ruffles his hair free.

"what do you mean?"

"you know how trains work?" Taehyung seems like he's about to bite him. it's all fine, the last week has gone under the flag of emergency. something snapped, maybe you had a mental breakdown, everybody was a little spooked. but it's a little rich that, of all the people, Taehyung is for some reason angry with him exclusively. the boy and his constant misplaced irritation. Yoongi is trying to find someone who will explain it to him. preferably, like he is dumb. what do they mean, y/n took the train to Busan and left. without even saying goodbye?

Yoongi never says goodbye because he hates goodbyes. because he never wants to part for good. he suspects your lack of goodbye was of different nature.

he goes home at the end of the day distraught, confused, with a headache. the doctor told him in the morning, you need to stop drinking. tough luck, buddy, he is dying soon it seems like. Yoongi picks a bottle out of the cupboard and drinks in silence, staring at the dark screen of his huge tv, his phone lying dead on the couch next to him. he is a little alarmed, flabbergasted, mute. the shadow twin in the reflection moves his arm up, bringing the glass to his mouth, as he is trying to pretend he doesn't have a clue.

well, disappointment is nothing new in his life. neither is anxiety. he could call you himself, but he sees his messages falling into nothing, not even a 'read' mark below, and he feels so fucking. tired of this. how many years has Riko tormented him? he would call her in moments like this, when she treated him to silence. toxic, capricious challenge. only to be cut off again. she would pick up, listen to him for a second, and hang up. no more. Yoongi isn't dramatic, he isn't desperate, he just wishes things were clearer. there's still something that keeps eluding him. every time he thinks about you, a feeling similar to gaping hunger hits the upper part of his stomach. like failing to catch something that's been flying straight to his face.

fine.

it's nothing. maybe you're sparing him of the crazy. you've always been kind of a wild card. happy one day, depressed the next one. it is intriguing as much as a warning. no, Yoongi thinks, he's had enough crazy. he hates himself for that, but Riko, whom he doesn't love anymore, thank god, keeps occupying his thoughts like an example he keeps coming back to. sometimes in our lives we meet such atrocious people that they become even more than a running anecdote we keep telling everybody. a life lesson. exhibit a. the bitch who shredded his heart, plucked all his nerves one by one and then cheated on him. now she keeps texting. everybody keeps texting him, except for you. he is overtly polite with her but barely responds anymore: it's becoming a burden. but she was a useful lesson in dealing with crazy. if you are that, maybe it's good that you're gone because he doesn't want to go through all that again.

deep down Yoongi knows you're not like Riko. where she was cold, you were always warm. even snapping your sharp teeth at him, protecting your boundaries, you were kinder about it. you never treated him like he was less than. no, no, you were not crazy, but something crazy has been happening to you, for sure. and everybody seems too fucking arrogant to talk to him about it. Yoongi feels like a complete idiot the whole March, feels like he is the only one who is kept in the dark. maybe he is imagining things.

the others start looking at him weird. half of them, with pity, the others, Jungkook and Taehyung, like he's done something wrong. has he? did he say something that would warrant you to get all your stuff and move to another city? was it the stalker, he panics for a moment? the word is, no. the stalker has been inactive lately.

the rehearsals get so intense as June approaches, that he barely has time to think, let alone have enlightening conversations with them. Hoba is irritated, but that is a norm when the deadline is close: he is always nervous, even if things go well. barks at them all the time, massaging his forearms that go numb when he practices for eleven hours straight. this year the training is hard for all of them, even Jungkook and Jimin. drippers are brought to the studio. age is age, there's nothing to do about it. their bones recall the pains of two thousand thirteen, when they would sleep on the floor of the dance studio because they'd get so exhausted that the idea of taking the bus to the dorm made them sob. now it's almost the same. minus the sleeping on the floor. this whole spring feels like a dark urge, like something bad is coming. like they will fail. all they speak about is how they need to fix the choreo; and then Jungkook loses his voice, a month before the tour. loses it to the point where he can't produce a sound for a whole week. the doctor tells them it's a combination of exhaustion, drinking and stress. they are all forbidden from drinking until June, strictly. and it gets even worse. fights. physical fights: Jimin's temper gets the best out of him when Jin can't memorize four simple steps. he lashes out because he has to repeat the same pirouette two hundred times, and is getting dizzy. Namjoon rushes in to shut him up, and Jimin lashes at him, too. Jungkook would get involved but he can't speak. Taehyung gets angry at everybody, but delegates all his rage onto Yoongi for some reason. they end up taking an hour long break and find out there's no place to go from the studio: there's either the kitchen or out the window. Yoongi contemplates the latter. they haven't had such explosive quarrels in many years. they all thought they were past that. but this has been the worst spring in years, as well. and for him, Yoongi knows why. he allowed himself to fall in love again, only to get screwed over, again. and he feels so dumb about it, and he definitely doesn't need Taehyung's attitude adding up to the whole pile of shit.

the boy is of other opinions. he chuckles without any smile in his mouth, looking directly at him. his hand squeezing a pear that's too unripe and green to eat. nobody cuts their fruit into cubes anymore. nobody does their dishes anymore; Jimin had to call Nari and beg her to come round and do it from time to time, call Yuna, they will pay money, because the dishes grow in the sink. nobody yanks them away once a day to relieve them of the stress and tell them how smart, and good, and superb they are.

23th of May

"...and it's somehow my fault?"

Taehyung keeps pulling his mouth to the sides. maybe he thinks Yoongi can't yell back? forgotten that he, also, has a temper? just because he is patient doesn't mean Yoongi is ready to deal with their fucking characters all the time.

"it is fully your fault".

Namjoon snaps his jaws in a warning, sighing, but doesn't say anything yet. he looks like a thought it cooking, but his stove is only half on.

"care to explain that?"

Taehyung taps the pear on the table like it's an egg that needs to be cracked.

"really? are you not done playing dumb, Yoongi?"

it's very rarely that they will omit the 'hyung'. it stings more than he is ready to admit. Yoongi likes to be loved. when maknaes "forget" to use the affectionate term, it's very mean.

"you", he points his finger at Taehyung, "always keep talking like i am supposed to be in on a secret, but i have no fucking idea. are you not tired of always pretending you're the smartest in the room?"

Jungkook is sitting at the kitchen table with his knees spread so wide that he takes up half of the room at once. Jimin is hiding behind the fridge door, his ass sticking out.

"Taehyung, it's not always so simple", he hoots from there. his soft comment is ignored completely.

"you have no idea. no, it's really epic", Taehyung exhales, his chest shaking, "you have no idea she loved you for seven years that you knew her? you'll tell me you had no idea? or you pretended not to notice?"

everything goes quiet. the spider nest erupts, and the nasty, black venom spreads everywhere. Jungkook's face goes pale, his eyes stare through space. he'd be screaming if he had voice. Jimin stands up, looking at Taehyung, and lets go of the fridge door.

"the fuck is wrong with you?" he asks quietly.

"huh?" Taehyung fences. he is slowly going livid, his neck is quite pink at this point, "we'll tiptoe around this forever? how long are we supposed to pretend nobody knows?"

Yoongi crosses his arms on his chest because he doesn't know what else to do. it looks more like he is trying to cover himself.

"what did you say?"

Taehyung finally leaves the pear alone, and it rolls across the table and stops at the edge.

"she's been in love with you", he says, clearly, cruelly. "i dare you to tell me you didn't know".

"i thought it was just a crush".

Jungkook's mouth twitches. he still avoids looking at anyone, chewing on his lip.

"not a lot going on in that head of yours", Taehyung concludes, "honestly it's pathetic with you two. movie classic. right person, wrong time, right?"

Yoongi slowly looks across the room, taking in the faces. Jungkook lifts his eyes and stares him down, and the things slowly start making sense. all of it. like the veil drops. like it's not elusive anymore. he's been copying a picture from memory, but was a few meters off. he thought you weren't ready, that there were other factors, that this job burned you out. he thought, he thought things. he was protecting himself.

"you all knew?" he asks quietly.

Jungkook and Jimin exchange glances and say nothing. Jiminie looks like he is trying really hard not to blame him, but does anyway. it's enraging. it's him against all the others: even Namjoon glances at him like he kicked a puppy.

"seriously?" he presses. "i am the bad guy?"

"nobody's the bad guy", Namjoon inserts quickly. he is pressing himself into the wall. "listen, it's nobody's fault. we're not sixteen".

"if we were sixteen", Taehyung puts his thumb straight into the bleeding cut and presses, "she would've been nine when it started. that's how long".

Jungkook tries to say something, and Jimin shushes him to protect the voice. but nothing comes out anyway; it's a purely psychological condition now. only air.

"this is a bit stupid, isn't it?" Yoongi utters, still observing them. the hatred he feels as of now, although it won't last, is refreshing. "coming from you. are you angry about y/n or yourself?"

Jungkook's face darts to him, unbelieving he just went there. Taehyung, however. is impressive. he smirks at the jab, it slides off him like water off a feather.

"look at me", V offers, "and tell me you never had any idea she was suffering".

that's the point. finally, the words that he needed to hear, that explain the mood. the suffering. Jimin grabs his elbows.

"i never had any idea", Yoongi confirms, his chest clutched for a second. "i thought she liked me, fine. it was never a problem".

what he means is, you were never a problem. Taehyung sniffs through his nose.

he was, in fact, so proud of himself. he was so happy he had all that space and gradually made his way to you. was thinking how neat it all was: you being always there, the friend that was never stingy with support. after the mistakes he made with Riko, it almost felt like fate; the love for you felt like an endless summer that's always waited for him. he had no idea how sorely he was mistaken. how far off he was. spectacular irony.

"we're not fighting about it", Namjoon hammers in his ordering voice. the voice that they usually don't argue with. "you two. shake hands. now".

only Namjoon can command them around like this. the fact alone that he needs to resort to it means the situation is drastic. Jungkook rubs his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

"i will shake his hand when he stops being a coward and fixes it", Taehyung replies. Namjoon sucks the air through his teeth sharply, but Jimin suddenly chimes in:

"no. no fixing".

they are all startled by it. but Jimin knows what he's talking about. it hits Yoongi like a hammer: he would always race through Seoul to be with me and bring food when i was breaking down; he can hear your voice like it's saying the words right into his ear. he can see your face, in his mind, smiling with such affection, cheeks a little flushed after the workout. Jimin has been the one who consoled you when you suffered.

because of me.

the realization that he made you ache tastes like flowers dying. it's like winter clutch. it's weakening. there's no point being defensive about it. he fucked up, whether intentionally or not, it doesn't matter. wow, he fucked up so bad.

"what?" Taehyung asks, his eyes on Jimin. suddenly, they all start understanding Jungkook's silent language. maknae shakes his head up and down, and then his palm slaps the table. it's a question: why not?

"Yoongi does nothing, i forbid it", Jimin sounds like a father. like he is five feet tall. his stare is direct. it's protective.

"you leave her alone".

all of a sudden, Joon snaps. his hand grabs Taehyung's neck, making him ouch with surprise, and drags him forward like a kitten. before Yoongi can do anything, as if he can do anything, he sees his leader's cougar face, jaws pressed together, and feels the painful grab just below the back of his head.

his forehead crashes into Taehyung's nose, and the boy yelps with pain this time. Namjoon refuses to let go, pressing them together like sock puppets.

"get your shit together before i make you kiss on the mouth", he grunts, then abruptly releases their necks, and Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut.

they make up with effort. it's creaking at first, but the catharsis of the moment facilitates the onset of peace. in a week, Jungkook starts speaking again, and Hoba becomes a little more relaxed, and May ends. they come out on top: they always do. it's always hectic and unsure, but they are Bangtan Boys. they've been through much worse.

─────────────────────────────────────

August

the tour comes and goes, and they come back home to hot, moist, choking Seoul, polluted streets and feeble greenery framing the housing districts, the hills and salty heat of the asphalt.

Lee Nayoung contacts him with a song request. correction: attempts to contact him with a song request. Yoongi is drowning in alcoholism after the tour, while he has the holiday, soaking at home, cradling his sore limbs, sleeping off the mounted jetlag. the first week he ignores people's calls completely so that Vicky has to come over and bang her fist on the door with the force of a SWAT team. Yoongi reminds her through the small crack of the door that he is on hiatus. he has earned this vacation with his hard work. Vicky lets him know he has been overstaying it a week already. Yoongi has lost around eight extra days barricading at home, emptying bottles and torturing the piano. he checks the calendar and thinks she is lying, the clocks are lying, and the time is lying. it's been a year you've been gone, and he still checks his phone in case you called. the disgust he experiences for himself is so strong that Yoongi gets sober, cleans up and gets ready the next day. he cuts his hair, washes all his clothes and takes the trash out. the embarrassment. people have been waiting on him, and Vicky was the only one brave enough to shove his nose into his own shit. Yoongi contacts Lee Nayoung back and apologizes. she says she wants a song about broken love. so funny! she recently went through a tough breakup; left with the feeling of regret, she claims. Yoongi has just the song for her, he promises. shit, he has a full album. take your pick.

Nayoung picks him.

she picks him up when he falls asleep in his chair at the studio, and puts a small pillow under his head and turns off the light.

she picks up the takeout for him and brings the food when they work.

she picks up the empty soda cans he keeps leaving around, and throws them in the trash.

she picks up on his habits and comes a little bit later in the morning to always give him some time to start the engine in his brain. Yoongi can't seem to gather himself completely, and once she picks up on that, too. she never wears pants, her soft femininity assuring, calming, self-sustained. she simply tilts her head and narrows her misty-dark eyes, and Yoongi feels as if she's reading his mind.

"your writing has been erratic", she notes. he nods and scratches his elbow. his phone lights up, and the piercing habit zips his ribs, the reflex at this point. y/n? no... someone else, again.

"it hits raw when it's real", Nayoung continues. Yoongi's neck goes numb because he has been stooping again. he winces, massages his shoulders.

"yes, last year was strange".

"i don't need to know to empathize", she shrugs, simply. Yoongi gazes at her and all his insides go cold. he looks at her round shoulders, parted lips with masterfully injected filler looking natural and tasty.

"so, you mean good erratic?" he specifies. Nayoung nods and approaches, her gaze friendly. there's no deceipt to her demeanor. the girl is very down-to-earth. what she says is what she means. she moves the pieces of paper around.

"although we need to change some of the adjectives, or it's going to sound like i was in love with a girl who smelt like green tea".

they both stare at the empty sound booth where she's supposed to be. instead, her hand lies on his shoulder and squeezes lightly. i don't know, but i care. it's the same gesture he extended you, forever ago. and it's such a small thing, such a rare human favour, that Yoongi feels drained again. he gives in, drunk, irritated, disappointed. he knows what he is doing is terrible. but he allows Nayoung to love him. allows her to take care of him until he is capable of moving on his own at least. allows her to believe he feels the same. lets her onto his lap, making the old chair squeak, and lets her part his lips with hers, and closes his eyes.

he goes back to that January when you listened to the new album: same studio, same chair, he's even wearing the same t-shirt accidentally. that's what was supposed to happen; as Nayoung's mouth is licking his, he suddenly gets a hint of strawberries on his tongue. he pushes away gently, staring at her, and she reads his mind.

"lip balm".

fake fake fake fake fake fake

at least she is there. at least she isn't distant, or crazy, or unstable. she doesn't push him away - she pulls him in. Nayoung brings plants into his house and places them in the most random places, finishing the cosy look, and makes Yoongi water them on time and fertilize them. Nayoung accepts the songs he writes for her, making her corrections gently, with caution. she slices his fruits in cubes and carries her phone in a funny, clunky case that she swings around like a mini-bag. she is nice, perceptive, kind. she is too soft with him, like the opposite of Riko. whatever he asks for, she does, and she balances her life with his with the mastery of a gymnast. the summer and autumn they spend together are calm and nurturing like graveyard soil, rich in juices and worms. Yoongi is slowly thriving, sucking the life out of her like a vampire half-way out of the casket, and Nayoung resides in this delusion that if she tries hard enough, she will make him forget. she never catches him staring at her.

she catches him sending you a happy birthday message, though. it's not long, just one line, but she asks why Yoongi keeps apologizing. like she hadn't heard the fucking song. they are, all of them, a bunch of cretins living in their bubble labyrinths they've built themselves. Jungkook lying to himself he never loved you. Taehyung lying to himself he stopped loving Jungkook. Yoongi lying to himself he is going to move on, tomorrow, tomorrow, and Nayoung lying to herself she didn't propose to him out of fear. her sudden request was so rash, almost shocking. like she was in a hurry to settle him and lock him away. click the handcuffs closed. January saw Jimin and Nari's anniversary. and Yoongi and Nayoung's slow, unpleasant fallout. and Riko, again.

"i made a mistake. it has always been you".

Yoongi blinks. he is groggy, heavy, holding himself against the table with his arms. it's the last thing he wants to see so early in the morning. he hisses dismissively, amused, and Nayoung turns her head.

"what?"

"nothing".

he can feel her eyes touching his forearm, then climb up and settle on his face. Yoongi looks at her pretty lips and thinks of unrequited love. humanness is so dumb, he ponders. always with some bullshit holding him back. phone vibrates again, and his gaze drops.

"call me, Yoon"

he begged for the same thing, too, he recalls. you can't always get what you want. he blocks her number, finally after all this time, to spare himself of at least one of the interferances. he raises himself with an effort, breathing full lungs of air, and starts noticing how messy the living room is. clothes lying around, wrappings of packages, tools, furniture moved sideways. he wants a cleanse.

and a divorce. because Nayoung is a good person who's been trying to mount the wrong person. god knows why she chose him specifically in her soul purifying trip, but Yoongi doesn't question things anymore.

Jimin says you live surrounded by fruit trees and the strait, and Yoongi craves to be by your side, listening to the waves and looking at the yellow of Busan streets. the year that's passed was his karma, it's been the year of falling deeper into depression, into love. he is searching for your eyes in everybody he looks at but he never calls because he is horrified of making it worse.

Jimin had told him everything. he came round back in August, while they were reeling after the tour still, going back to work slowly, carefully and lazily. sitting on his couch with a bottle of strawberry beer, he had mercy on his hyung, telling him about what the slumber parties were about. what the karaoke was about. how you sometimes hugged him for too long, too tightly, clearly wishing he was Yoongi. Jimin sent him a link leading to a playlist that clearly meant something to you, but nobody knew exactly why. funny how Yoongi could read it like a poem. songs that reminded you of him. some of them you mentioned during lessons, some you listened to together, and some are of his own creation.

"SUGA's interlude", you'd always beam, "is my spring song. it sounds like riding a bike in new shoes through the park, nineteen all over again". you'd always get so shy every single time you spoke to him about his music. about him. he always took it as dismissal.

he always underestimated absolutely everything about you. in awe of how dumb he was. he never listened to you just closely enough, because if he had, he would've heard you. but at first, there was Riko, then there was the getting over Riko, and then there was the train to Busan. the boys aren't actually angry with him, not anymore. but, he is.

he takes Nayoung's heart that should never have been in his vicinity and squashes it dead. she takes nothing: not the house, not the car, not the plants, she just disappears. calls him names, of course. not harsh enough, in his opinion. if Yoongi were to dissect this short relationship, he'd say Nayoung's fault was being spectacularly stupid. even a complete idiot would see what she was getting into, that it was a case of doom. now, she is forever smeared with "prod. by SUGA" and can't shake it off. it's like shooting someone down and kicking them when they are on the ground. Yoongi is glad he never ended up making a whole album with her.

what he ends up doing, is getting himself into the hospital.

July

Taehyung is really mean at times, but everybody knows that he is a softie at heart. all his attitude is the result of the passionate desire to constantly keep everybody intact. Taehyung needs people that he loves, around him at all times. he is anxious. he hasn't been angry with Yoongi since that one fight at the studio. Taehyung's been uncharacteristically nice, maybe out of the guilty feeling, and enforced his own company more and more often when it was time for drinking. especially after the divorce: he's been there constantly, which reminded Yoongi sharpy of the earlier years. he couldn't believe he forgot it's Taehyung's finest trick. back then, years and years ago, when he couldn't live with the chronic pain anymore, and wanted to simply blow his brains out, Taehyung hung on his shoulders like an annoying monkey and kept screaming his lungs out until Yoongi got proper help.

Taehyung must feel the same way now, because he trails behind him after the studio, once he leaves the building, follows in his steps, expecting to catch him, to the point of being annoying again. but this time, instead of getting cross with him, Yoongi turns and actually pays attention. why now?

because you look like shit, hyung, Taehyung replies, because life has run you over at least twice and i am afraid if you keep drinking, you will die.

you will die.

Yoongi collapses on the ground right in front of Hybe; it's like a scene out of a movie. the whole upper chest is suddenly on fire, the heart clutched in a small ball, and the breathing gets stuck somewhere behind the top ribs. he stares at the tip of the building he, sorry, Hoseok, built, and at the sky, and thinks about the weather in Busan. because the consciousness is leaving him, his brain starts inducing memories and hallucinating smells to keep him awake. Taehyung's hand shakes his neck instead of calling an ambulance. Yoongi closes his eyes, thinking, at least i won't hurt anyone else, but it just sucks that you haven't replied to his messages. would've been neat to receive at least one word from you.

he wakes up in the hospital bed thinking he's had a heart attack, but the doctors yank his hope for early death away, saying it was the gallbladder attack. Yoongi thinks for a minute, trying to remember the placement of the organ.

"what'd i do?" he asks.

"it's a call for help", doctor clarifies, "alcohol and stress made your body blow the whistle on you. it's a warning".

"of what?"

he clicks his tongue, thinking.

"you need to go easier on yourself. and stop drinking. but you've been told the latter many times".

there's commotion outside the door, and Taehyung pulls into the room, with Jungkook in his arms. looks like either he was trying to stop the maknae, or the maknae collided into him on his way, and they stumbled inside together.

"hyung", Jungkook stretches nasally, like a child. Yoongi is a little embarrassed. he tries to look away, but doctor retreats and leaves them alone, him and two of the three loudest people he's ever met.

the third one is you.

he misses you so fucking much it's ridiculous. there's still mild pain in his upper stomach and he yells with it when Jungkook elbows him just in the spot, trying to hug. the boys probably don't even know he is hopeless. he's been keeping to himself, and they let it go. life goes on. but now, as he looks at them, he gradually realizes he's had enough, again. these last two... three... five... years have been exhausting. all he wants is rest, and he hasn't rested since you went away.

fuck what Jimin says, or forbids. he's not your father, or his manager. even if he was his manager, a manager is the last person Yoongi listens to.

he isn't dramatic. he isn't deadly desperate yet. he is heartbroken and sad. he is smart. he knows you might not love him anymore. because you haven't sent him a single text in two years, and he never hears that you ask about him. every time Jimin comes back from Busan, Yoongi knows you didn't ask about him. he knows if he does the dramatic run to the city of the sea and confesses his deeply rooted, highly neglected, monstrously underestimated love, you might simply punch him in the face.

he has to be smarter.

he has to be the person Taehyung thought he was: cunning and hypocritical, unbothered. he has to lure you in instead of getting rejected directly. you are guarded and snappy, and too prideful for your own good. he has to make up an excuse to see you regularly that won't look needy. that will seem realistic. he has to trick you into loving him again, an almost hopeless cause.

he has to try. that's what Yoongi does: fixes things. he has to fix this.

─────────────────────────────────────

October

one more year later, he finds you sitting in front of the big panoramic window and looking at the pear trees. living room is empty of the pretty carpets, and expensive couch, and colourful book cases. all packed, all travelling already.

the whole day you're looking like he is forcing you to move. like he put a gun to your head and said: gather your shit. we're going back to Seoul.

"i wish i could take them with me", you mutter. Yoongi approaches you, feeling his back slouch. the old instinct that he fights off. shit, he is traumatized, too. always expecting to be slapped away.

even when you're sad, you still reach out for him with your hand, like he magnetizes you.

finally, the balance. the pull is equally strong on both ends.

"you don't have to do it", he says carefully, looking at your hand tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie. the heating has been shut off already, it's quite late to say these words. the apartment has been sold. your independence, your freedom, have been sold.

"no, i want to", you reply. he almost got used to your quieter, melancholic expression that's been there already when he came to Busan with his unconventional offer to be more than ex-friends. he is methodical. he is unhurried, much calmer than he was when it began. he is sure he will find a way to stomp out this melancholy, as well. plus, when you smile, it's the same smile you used to have when you first met. open, drawing lines at the corners of your eyes.

"you sure?"

you shiver a little, your hands rub over your shoulders quickly, as you nod. Komangi is lying in a curl at your thigh, also trying to warm himself up. not packed yet, this one will travel by plane.

"whatever are you going to do without the sea?" he asks, like he is testing your resolve. trying to make sure you know what you are doing. like he isn't the sea, and the ocean, to you. like he isn't the one who will make you follow wherever. you stare at him with the expression in your eyes that he always took as cheekiness.

but now that he has seen your eyes directly enough, he knows he has been mistaken about that, too. it's love. that's what it looks like. not the cold, elusive stare from under the lashes, or wide-open, demanding gaze. it's this: cutting smile in the depth. straight to the brain.

"Seoul is still loud and dirty", he presses further, as if teasing, and your lips curve delicately.

"i... me, too".

Yoongi opens his mouth.

"you trying to make an innuendo?"

"yeah", you exhale roughly.

"it's so bad", he can't believe your joking your way out of conversations always works, as his head tilts, and keeps tilting until he falls onto your lap. your hand gets to his face immediately, then swipes into the hair. you laugh, and it's the only warm thing in the room. Komangi purrs, and Yoongi does, too.

"you make a better one if you're so smart".

"i'm not smart, i am extremely dumb".

your hand brushes over his forehead and he can't believe human touch can heal so fiercely.

he hates being the one to nag, but it still bothers him.

"you don't look too happy".

"i am worried about the pear trees".

"damn, i will uproot them if you want. we will say it's carry on luggage".

uprooting is what he's done with you, twice. first, squeezed you out of Seoul, now yanked there again. he can see the way his words travel to your brain, and the little goosebumps on your throat.

"i just want to be where you are", you say. you push it out slowly, in between breaths. you think it sounds pathetic. Yoongi's crescent eyes smile at you the way you never thought you'd see.

"sorry".

"if you say sorry one more time, i will break your nose".

he turns to his side and presses his face into your stomach to hide the target and his smile. silver earrings in his ear click against each other.

fixed it.

taglist: @ktownshizzle , @benyhime , @ryryvna , @amarawayne , @mar-lo-pap , @kiki-zb , @hanaohreally

[paramountinplace]

Please do babyre!nat and cg!lottie 😭 nobody ever does a super little nat and i yearn for it

The Ways of Music - Little!Nat, Cg!Lottie

Summary: Mari wants to listen to music with Nat, but Nat's taking a nap and Lottie's not sure how to work Nat's record player anyway. Luckily, Misty's got a stereo and a case of CDs for them to work with once Nat's up from her nap. Ft. Nat, Lottie, Mari, Misty More notes at end

"Woah, slow down, speed racer," Lottie exclaims, reaching out to catch Mari around the waist before she can barrel past her to Nat's room. She's just managed to get Nat to doze off for a nap and if her hunch is correct, Mari is ready to barge into the room at full speed.

"Lemme go," Mari grunts, trying to wiggle out of Lottie's hold. She plants her hands on her wrists and pushes, making Lottie wince.

"Hey, Mar," she says firmly, trying to catch Mari's eyes. "Look at me."

Mari stops struggling long enough to glance over, lips turned down in a fierce pout.

"Nat's sleeping, honey," Lottie continues. "I don't want you running in there and waking her up."

The girl goes lax in her hold, twisting so she can hold Lottie's shoulders, looking up at her with a furrowed brow.

"She's sleepin'?"

"Yes," Lottie nods, "and we don't want to wake the baby, do we?"

Mari shakes her head urgently. She pauses for a long moment, emotions warring on her face as she chews on her lip.

"I wanted to have music time with Nat," she admits, sounding disappointed. "She said we could."

Lottie hums, gently nudging Mari to walk down the hallway with her so they weren't have their conversation directly outside Nat's room.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to do music time with you when she's feeling a little older," she tries to reason.

'I wanted it today," Mari retorts stubbornly. She pulls away from Lottie to march into her own room. Lottie trails behind her, leaning on the doorframe as she watches Mari dig through a pile of things on her beanbag chair. After a moment, she unearths what she had been searching for and straightens, turning to display it proudly to Lottie. It's a flat parcel, clumsily wrapped in construction paper that Mari had obviously doodled all over in decoration, complete with a card taped to the front that read To Nat.

"Aw, Mar," Lottie coos. "You got Nat a gift?"

Mari nods emphatically. She's holding the parcel delicately, like she's concerned it'll fall apart at any second.

"I picked a record for us," she explains softly. "'Cause Nat took me to the doctor and made sure I didn't cry."

"That's so sweet of you, honey," Lottie murmurs. "Nat's going to be really happy about that."

Mari flushes, ducking her head.

"I just wanted to give it today," she says, turning to place the gift gently on her bedside table. She sounds incredibly put-out and it makes Lottie's heart pang a little.

"Tell you what, Mar," Lottie offers, "why don't you help me out with Nat today? That way you can still spend some time with her."

Mari perks up a bit, stepping closer.

"Can we still listen to music?"

Lottie turns the request over in her head a few times.

"We'll have to see," she finally decides. She isn't exactly sure how to work Nat's record player—not that it looks particularly complicated, but her music collection is one of Nat's most treasured things and she doesn't want to mess with it without her express permission.

"I can ask Misty to do it for us," Mari tries, nodding. "She knows how and she's always super careful with it and Nat said she's allowed."

"Is Misty home today?" Lottie asks.

Mari shrugs. "Think so. I dunno."

"We'll have to see, then," she repeats, holding an arm out for Mari. "Let's go have a snack while we wait for Nat to wake up, okay?"

...

Mari's a whirling ball of energy until Lottie decides Nat's probably been asleep for long enough. She calms some as they head upstairs, but Lottie still makes her wait outside the door while she wakes Nat so that they don't overwhelm her right out of her sleep.

Nat's balled up in one corner of her bed, back pressed against the wall and Lottie sits on the edge of the mattress, placing a gentle hand on Nat's calf.

She starts talking, quietly at first and gradually rising to her normal tone as she rambles about nothing, waiting for Nat to recognize her voice. When the girl shifts, face scrunching as she starts to wake up, Lottie moves her hand up to her back, rubbing in wide circles.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she greets when Nat's eyes finally land on her. "Good nap?"

She doesn't expect a reply, reaching forward to help guide Nat upright. Her face is still sleep-scrunched adorably and she waits for Nat to get her bearings a little more, letting her lean heavily against her side, before she beckons Mari into the room.

"Hi, Nat," Mari murmurs, movements much more contained than before as she crouches by the bed. Nat's mouth curves into a small smile and Mari looks up at Lottie with unbridled excitement.

"Someone's happy to see you," Lottie says, unable to keep her own smile from spreading across her face.

"It's 'cause I'm your favorite, huh, Nat?" Mari asks, reaching up to the tip of Nat's nose gently. Nat makes a small sound as her face contorts and Mari shrugs. "That was probably a yes."

"Maybe," Lottie chuckles. "But I'll bet Nat doesn't have favorites."

Nat's head falls against her shoulder and she raises a brow at Mari.

"See? She agrees with me."

"That doesn't mean anything," Mari groans, but she's smiling, offering up a hand for Nat to grasp at.

They sit quietly for a while before Mari starts to get restless and Lottie realizes she should probably check if Nat needs changed.

"Why don't you go find Misty and ask her your question? We'll meet you," she instructs, relieved when Mari obeys without complaint.

Nat's dry, which adds a pit stop to their trip down to the kitchen for some milk, because Lottie's not actually sure if Nat had had anything yet that day. By the time she's gotten everything sorted, she realizes she has no idea where Misty and Mari are.

"Where do you think, hm?" She asks Nat, giving her a little bounce. Her arms are getting a little tired, but Nat's holding onto her tightly enough that she's not sure she'd let her go if she tried, so she ignores it. "Let's try the study. Misty's got that exam coming up, so I'll bet she's doing work."

Her hunch turns out to be correct and she can hear their voices floating down the hallway before she sees them and Nat wiggles excitedly in her arms.

As she enters the study, she sees Mari leaning over Misty's shoulder, peering at the huge textbook she has open on the desk in front of her.

"—quite simple, actually, but it's not the prettiest thing in the world and I'm not entirely sure you should be looking at this, now that I think of it," Misty is saying. She gently nudges Mari back, flipping the textbook shut and Lottie opts not to question whatever it is that they'd been looking at. "Oh, hey, Lottie. Hi, Nat."

Her voice gets much softer over the second greeting and Lottie can't hold back a snort.

"Someone's got favorites."

"Yep," Misty chirps, standing up from her chair. Lottie's about seventy percent sure she's joking. Maybe sixty. "What's up?"

"Can we listen to music?" Mari asks, bouncing on the spot. Her and Misty were never especially close, but they both loved listening to music with Nat and it had brought them together a little more.

Misty hums, face twisting in consideration.

''Let's not use Nat's things without her permission, Mari," she begins, getting an immediate groan of protest. She holds up her finger. "But, I have a stereo in my room. I know it's not the same thing, but do you think we could try that?"

Mari huffs, crossing her arms, but Lottie can tell she's considering the idea seriously. Misty shifts from foot to foot as she waits for Mari to come to a decision, adjusting her glasses. After a tense few moments, Mari uncrosses her arms and looks at Misty.

"Can I pick the music?"

"Well, I—" Misty cuts herself off, shaking her head a little. "Of course you can."

Mari whoops excitedly, jolting forward with her arms up like she's about to throw them around Misty before she freezes awkwardly. Misty bites her lip, holding out one arm and Mari leans into it, giving her a quick squeeze before pulling away and bouncing out of the room happily. It's the most awkwardly sweet thing Lottie's seen all day and she smiles sincerely at Misty.

"You better beat her up there or she might rip apart your CD collection," she warns playfully. Misty seems to take the warning seriously and she bolts out of the room in a way that makes Nat giggle wildly.

Lottie follows a little slower, relieved when she reaches Misty's room and there's a beanbag set out thoughtfully for her to sink onto with Nat on her lap. Mari and Misty are knelt by a shelf containing a few rows of CDs. Van had built it for Misty in an early-on attempt to extend an olive branch and Misty had kept it around despite it not matching the rest of the furniture in her room.

"You have a lot of the same music as Nat," Mari observes quietly, almost reverent as she scans the CDs on the shelf. Misty's smile is small, almost private.

"Yeah," she says. "Nat's got music."

Mari glances over her shoulder at where Lottie sits with Nat, who's mouthing distractedly at the hem of her sleeve, leaning against Lottie's chest. She leans forward to speak to Misty quietly.

"I got her new music," she tells the blonde eagerly.

"What did you get?"

"It's a secret," Mari replies, a little apologetic.

Misty smiles. "Well, I'm sure she'll love it, Mar."

Mari nods, brightening with Misty's approval. She reaches out and pokes at one of the CDs. Misty pulls it out, flashing the black and white cover at Lottie.

"Nice pick," Misty congratulates, sliding the disc out of the case to slip into the stereo.

She twists the volume dial and Lottie watches fondly as she and Mari both sprawl out on their backs on the floor. When the opening notes of the first song play, Nat wiggles a little in her lap, babbling quietly.

"You like this one, baby?"

"The eighth track is her favorite right now," Misty pipes up from the floor.

"Are we listening to this whole thing?" Lottie asks, a little incredulous. She didn't think Mari's attention span was quite that expansive, but Misty nods.

"Yup! Now hush, just listen."

Lottie clamps her mouth shut before she can snap back, realizing that Nat too is pawing at her shoulder to get her to be quiet. She settles back against the beanbag, letting Nat shift until she finds a comfy spot on her chest, head coming to rest just over her heart. Lottie lets her eyes slide shut as she listens, drawing shapes over Nat's back in time with the music. She cracks her eyes open every now and then to make sure Nat hasn't drifted off, because another nap might make it hard to get to sleep at bedtime, but the girl is wide-eyed every time she peeks, seemingly listening intently. She babbles happily at a few moments and Mari sits up to inform Lottie that they're parts that big Nat always comments on.

When the track that Misty identified as Nat's favorite comes on, she sits up off Lottie's chest a little to listen, swaying slightly as she does. Lottie watches with a fond smile on her face, glancing over at Mari and Misty. Mari has her eyes closed, but her mouth is split with a huge grin as she listens, feet tapping against the floor. Misty's face is impassive, but her whole body is lax, shoulders loose of the tension she usually carries around.

"You're a little music magician, huh?" She murmurs to Nat once she settles back against Lottie's chest. She puts a hand through Nat's hair a few times, getting a hum in response.

(They're listening to Fleetwood Mac's Rumours! Sorry it took so long to reply to this, anon!)