#i truly have no idea what im trying to say here but thoughts are welcome (inc ones to tell me to stfu)

[tonydaddingham]

just while im going through ep6 for a different meta - suddenly struck me that it isn't until the (seemingly coincidental) finding the matchbox that uriel, michael, and saraqael* seem to even know that gabriel has gone down to earth specifically:

and yet gabriel pressing the button for earth is blatantly in the heavenly cctv files:

so first thing: *im, at this point, refusing to believe that saraqael isn't, to some extent and in some manner or other, working against the metatron/archangels. why wouldn't their first thought be to check this obviously very clear and unequivocal surveillance footage? isn't that what their role in heaven is portrayed to encompass?

and second, the timeline of the gabriel footage is now seeming a little strange to me, when considering the events that chronologically follow in the narrative. because he's seen, fully clothed, putting the matchbox straight into the cardboard box (1) (im presuming so it's in there, safe, before he removes his clothes). then, he moves off screen to remove his clothing (2). then, he's seen putting the note on the bottom of the box (3). then, he's seen fumbling with matchbox - i think he's tipping the fly into the cardboard box but dropping the matchbox in the process (4).

presumably, in order to have put the note on the box (3), he - gabriel - would in some capacity have to have known what he was planning (ie. putting his gabrielness into the fly). that would indicate he hasnt removed his gabrielness by that point, and instead it happens at some point after (3)*.

and i think it happens just before (4), because it looks like he's emptying the fly into the cardboard box, out of the matchbox - presumably in a weird process like we see later on, when the fly (ick) enters his eye and his memories return. so, essentially, by the time he enters the lift, im assuming his memories are out of his body and safely in the fly.

so, to summarise, he puts the matchbox in the box before he disrobes to keep it safe, writes the clue on the box, gets out the fly to do the memory-wipey-thing at some point off-screen, and then is seen haphazardly turfing the fly into the box before getting in the lift:

(slowed down to 0.7x because the beginning fumble is so quick)

so, braindump thoughts:

so if we can be clear that gabriel has left the figurative building between (3) and (4), is it possible that another entity takes his place? or sneaks in to cohabit with 'jim'? (if so - god?)

alternatively, is 'jim' even jim? (if saraqael is controlling the BOL, is this a switcheroo they orchestrated? presuming that the cctv footage is happening concurrent to gabriel getting in the lift, not consecutive? and lastly; it was a shitpost, sure, but does this have any merit - has god somehow gotten themselves saved as a .zip file in the system, awaiting upload?)

this is a little unrelated, but honestly... why bother undressing? besides the jon-hamm-bum-factor, why wouldn't he just... immediately beeline to the lift? is it just so if any of the archangels came looking for him, they'd find him doing exactly as he said he would? it seems completely unnecessary, unless you take into account the potential symbolism behind it when he arrives at the bookshop (see above re: god/jesus, and the "who told you i was naked?" line re: adam and eve in eden)

another thing actually: if gabriel has transferred his memory into the fly by the time the lift opens, the last thing he presumably saw was the quote on the matchbox. which would explain why he immediately pressed the button for earth, rather than hell - given his his line to beelzebub of, "i was coming to you, but i... forgot!" but then again, if he cannot remember anything that gabriel saw... why would he link the quote to either aziraphale or crowley?

i don't think ive necessarily noted anything clever here, on my part - more that a couple things suddenly seem... iffy.

[chaotic-iguana]

Refuge | chapter three. 

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter | general masterlist 

chapter three: damning rebirth

wordcount: 3.8k - my longest work yet lmao summary: what if reader and joel were married before the outbreak? warnings: angst, estrangement, anger, violence, sad, its like centered around finding yourself again, reader and joel are both quite complicated broken ppl im trying to do them justice, not much joel he’ll be in the next chapter i promise.

You didn’t speak to him for weeks after that first afternoon. You’d run out of words to say. You stopped speaking to his brother, too, for keeping you in the dark; ignoring Maria’s justifications, the constant droning of “…he did it to keep you safe, you know? So you wouldn’t leave Jackson’s safety and run after Joel. You could have died. Sarah’s death would have broken you, like it broke him, and you should be thankful that…” 

You tuned her out after a while. It was getting tiring coming up with rude adjectives to describe how wrong she was in your head. There was no fight left in you to even protest, so you just left the room while she was talking. You loved her, but there were days you thought she just enjoyed hearing herself talk. Which she was extremely welcome to do, but with the acknowledgement that you would rather walk into a bloaters' den unarmed than sit through it.

Tommy had lied to you, kept the truth about your family from you, and no matter how many ways he spun it, it wouldn’t change the fact that when your first fucking words to him were asking about Joel and Sarah, he had looked you in the eyes and lied through his goddamn teeth when he said he didn’t know. He could go crying to Maria all he liked. You’d need a while not to recoil with disgust every time you saw him no matter how many times you got told to stop acting like a child. When Tommy realised the extent of your anger, he attempted to remedy it by telling you everything. Sarah getting shot on outbreak day - you still winced when he said it- and Joel’s time in the QZ, with a woman called Tess. You didn’t even know what to make of that. You probably couldn’t unpack your feelings about it if you tried. How he found the girl you’d gotten alarmed by - the job he got, how he took her in, how he lied to her and why she won’t look at him now. 

You didn’t even bother forming opinions about any of it, let alone voice any. Thinking was futile; your thoughts or ideas or opinions or offense wouldn’t change anything, would they? You continued the same monotonous routine you had established for the past year or so since you arrived to Jackson, this time with even fewer occasions of leaving the house for a party or drink. 

The shop and your bedroom became your life, the only people you spoke to were those looking for books. You’d collected them for years in the hope that if the outbreak ever got under control, there would be literature somewhere for humanity to remember what it used to be. Or perhaps a relic, serving as a legacy for a species long gone. Something, just to yell at the world and all those to come after, that you were here, even when you weren’t really. You hadn’t quite been here since the day the world had ended. Since the day you had lost everything. And now, twelve years later, all of it just came crashing back. 

The pain was as if someone had crawled into your flesh, peeled your ribs back, and plucked your heart out.

Sarah had become less of a person and more of a concept to you over time. The intangibility that very literally gave you strength when you lay bruised and beaten, held down and overlooked by snarling strangers. She had been your salvation; your everything. Losing her wasn’t something you had truly came back from the first time around, suppressed guilt and fear and worry gnawing at the back of your mind. The reappearance of all of it, overshadowed this time by crippling guilt, was a cruel albeit welcome one. You wanted to feel bad - because much like Joel, it was what you deserved. You had failed - not only as a mother but as a wife, too. You should have just gone home on time that fucking night, but life got in the way as if often used to back then. All those little things that got blown out of proportion like work and deadlines and projects and careers didn’t even matter now. You should have come home. You should have been there.

You didn’t even want to imagine how Joel felt. To you, the ache was a phantom limb - trailing you wherever you went, interwoven with your shadow. To him, it was a stain on his hands that he never seemed to be able to rub out; he could always see a tinge of crimson coating his fingers, ever since that night.

Neither of you could look the other in the eye anymore. 

Yet, even after all of it life simply went on, stuttering but still relentless in its proceedings. Pink, jagged scars marred the flesh of time as it stretched around the metalwork of the lives you had fought to keep, yet lost the worth of anyways. Fate is seldom kind.

It wasn’t too peculiar, this distance. Ironically, even after all these years, you both understood the other perfectly - as if each thought either of you had, each feeling you felt, was respected and loved and relayed by the refuge of your marriage, still. You understood that he was too ashamed by his self-proclaimed failure to speak to you, and he understood that the loss had so wholly devoured you that you wouldn’t have the strength to look in his eyes and be reminded of hers for a while.

The song and dance continued, the delicate persuasion of ensuring not to jolt the fragile existences the other had created for themselves. Joel didn’t come near your bookshop, and you didn’t go near Tommy, lest the words ‘family dinner’ be spoken into existence. Truly, he was idiot enough to suggest it. As if all that your currently brilliant (more like fractured) relationship with your husband (was he still? what about tess?) needed was a dinner with his brother, his sister in law, and the kid he had apparently adopted, lied to, and was now in a rough spot with. Gotta love reunions, no?

In another life, you would have stepped in. You would have spoken to either of them - perhaps even made more of an effort to include Ellie in your own life to ensure that after all she had been through, she wouldn’t feel alone even when she wasn’t doing well with Joel. In this life, though, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Joel acted like a selfish, moronic liar, sure. But if this kid couldn’t see, that at his very core, he was just plain scared - that he practically shook in his (adorable) cowboy boots anytime someone mentioned what happened to Ellie - then, great, she deserved Joel not realising that it was her decision to save humanity; to pay the price, to do what it took; entirely independent of him, or anyone else. You tamped down on the cynical part of you sneering at the romantic heroism of it all. The world knew now, better than before, how selfish man was. How utterly human, for Joel to struggle to separate his feelings for his own daughter and the one he had taken in; for Ellie to be too caught up in her own view to even consider what Joel was going through. It was almost like one of those plays you used to enjoy reading - like a Greek tragedy. The hamartia of both heroes was humanity alone.

They’d come around, eventually. Joel and Sarah always did, too. 

The irony lay mostly in the fact that you had spent a decade craving him - his comfort and his warmth. The kneading of his large hands on your back after a long day; the scratch of his stubble when he nuzzled into your neck from behind. The years you didn’t have him were spent with only him in mind; a mindless worship of the love you had. Now that he was within reach; close enough to grasp and curl your fingers around, to sink an burrow into; you were… lost. The desperation; the wild frenzy with which you had remembered only them through the years - to have lost one now leaves you clueless about what to do with the other. The cracks that have made their way into your heart - the ones tainting your soul - you see them reflected in him, too. Your first look into his dark eyes told you that he, too, has done too much to be standing here today; that his first kill, too, had been the man he once was. No wonder you can’t bear to look at each other anymore. The grief - not only of what you have both lost, or what you once had, but the grief of who you both used to be - rears its ugly head in any room you find yourselves in together. Look at me, it screams. Look at what the years have done to me. I can’t recognise myself in mirrors anymore. I don’t see who I used to be. I was so beautiful. I was so good. Look at me. Look at me. Look-

Is this how the angels felt when they fell? You’d never know - there were no angels; there was no God. What divinity would allow for any of this to happen? This joke, this mockery of nature. You never were religious, but fumbled prayers had found their way into your vocabulary every night when you didn’t know where Joel and Sarah were. You - who had never even stepped into a church had prayed.

You must have forgotten there was nobody sitting in the sky to listen.

You had made your peace with the mutual decision to avoid him and the girl - not only because you didn’t even know how to start apologizing to her-but because you were content with the mere knowledge that he was here, that he was alive and breathing.

Tommy’s guilt worked in your favor, ensuring that he didn’t try pairing you and Joel up for patrols - likely fearful of the fallout that might occur (but like, what could even happen? another apocalypse?) but the comedown of that meant that you were paired up with Fred, instead. A man who infuriated you to no end, one who found it extremely interesting that you were once married, that you have a child. Had.

His ceaseless questions made you want to rip your hair out, but you refrained - if only so he wouldn’t have another reason to put his arms around you to try ‘calming’ you like last time. He was a bastard, but you didn’t have it in you to challenge him just yet.

Your answers to his enquiries were grunted or simply monosyllabic, your irritation clear as day in the set of your jaw, the slant of your brow. Nevertheless, like the dumbfuck he was, he persisted. So then how was this your fault?

It had been a decent morning. You’d gotten up early in time for the patrol, taken a shower, drank some water and arrived at the stables. But as you stood outside, you could hear the commotion of people inside - boisterous cheering and laughing as if one would hear in a pub. Interest piqued, you inched your way to the entrance of the barn silently, trying to understand what was going on. 

“…fuckin’ whore’s been leading me on for like half a year, turned out she was married the whole time. Dodged a bullet, though. Nearly lost her shit when he told her that her kid died. Went completely apeshit and ruined my goddamn shirt with her snot- nearly clawed through my arm, too. Feel bad for the poor husband, had to yell at everyone to get out just so he could calm her crazy ass down. Everyone’s lost someone, lady. Get over it, right? Plus, girl that age wouldn’t have done too well at a QZ, know what I mean? Wouldn’t have gone untouched, anyways.” He paused for them all to laugh at the supposed comedic gold in his words - him and his little pack of primitives - and all you could do was stand there, glued to the spot in shock.

The fucking audacity. Leading him on? You fucking tried your best to get him to stop talking to you, stop touching you - and you didn’t claw at his arm because you were crazy, you did it because you were fucking panicking and some idiot was making it worse by caging you in. And that was brushing aside what he said about Sarah. No, that had you seeing red, chest heaving.

Fuck, the old you would have broken his nose on the first day. Never is too late to do the right thing, is it? 

Just like before, a laugh was forming in your chest. A giggle at first, before you were chuckling, clapping a hand to your mouth and horrified with your own humour. The joke here was priceless, though. See - the world had ended, God was dead, and you were worried about being lightly reprimanded? Fuck that, and fuck him. You hadn’t let yourself feel fear out there. You hadn’t let yourself feel despair, and you sure as hell hadn’t let yourself feel hope. Joel’s arrival forced you to confront all the pain you had ignored. This cunt of a man was managing to unearth all the anger you had neglected, too. His fucking funeral.

Your tongue sat agitated against your teeth in anticipation, waiting to give way to the venom lacing the words in your brain. 

Fury sparked in your blood, washing away all your hesitation. Fragmented, she etched herself into the ring of black that blew out your pupils; the unfaltering thumping of your heart in your chest. The threads of your fate were now in her slender, silhouetted hands, and all that was left for you to do was obey. Not that you had a choice. 

Before you could so much as blink, you had burst into the crowd. Fred’s eyes widened at the wild snarl on your face, begging and apologizing.

He was unaware, though, of just how sick you had become of apologies. Tommy’s apologies, Joel’s apologies, Maria’s shitty ones, and then the sympathetic apologies you’d been getting from customers because apparently word of Sarah and her role in your life had spread like wildfire throughout Jackson. Joel wouldn’t have shared it, nor would Tommy- not when he knew you were two seconds away from breaking his nose just weeks ago. That left the kid Joel bought-Ellie-or Fred. And something just told you it wasn’t the girl. You’d trust Joel’s judgement blindly any day.

His empty sorrys fell upon deaf ears, his trembling voice cracking as he repeated them over and over.

You grinned, baring your teeth.

“Hello, Fred. Hello, everyone. Having a party and I wasn’t even invited?” You pouted mockingly. “Y’ know what I personally think is absolutely, knee-slappingly hilarious?” You paused, watching their curiosity grow as they fell hook, line and sinker for the cheerful façade, furrowing ther brows in question and stepping in closer. “How untouched you look, asshat.” Your grin dropped just as you rocked back on your heels, surging forward within a split second while throwing all your weight into your fist. 

Just as it collided with the asshat's jaw.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You’ve been…frazzled since Joel came back, fine, but I cannot excuse your behaviour just because I know you or because you’re family. This was absolutely out of line, is that clear?” Maria stopped her pacing to turn to you, expecting a justification or an apology. You offered neither. When you refused to so much as look up from your split knuckles, she threw her hands up, huffing at her husband, who was leaning against the table sheepishly while wincing every time her voice rose as she yelled at you. 

The door swung open and Joel practically stumbled in, eyes searching wildly until they landed on you curled up on a chair with your hands in your lap. Did news seriously spread that fast, even now? Guess people don’t have much to do when the world has ended.

“Look- I know, I know you went through a lot. At first, you were spacey and Tommy told me to just leave it alone. Then, you got the bookshop and you just spent all your time there or on patrols, never even trying to integrate yourself here, and I’ve let it go because he-“ a finger in Tommy’s direction, “-begged me to. Let go of your little…tantrum with Ellie, too. I watched Tommy mope around and I said nothing even when you refused to accept that he hadn’t told you about Joel, for your own good.” Tommy flinched, but she went on. “I just can’t do it this time. You broke Fred’s jaw, you know? He is a contributing, well-liked citizen in Jackson. Not a recluse. I didn’t believe you’d done it until I saw the state of your hand. You’re always so quie-just-just give me one fucking reason you would punch him.” She was panting by the end, her chest falling rapidly under the weight of her own tirade. 

Joel had planted himself directly between you and Maria, as if trying to protect you from the onslaught of her words. He looked more apologetic than you did, hands extending towards her while he took a deep breath, attempting to placate her. 

“Maria-now just wait a damn minute, she wouldn’t-“ 

Was he defending you? When had that happened? When had you become this-this blubbering, weak version of yourself that Joel had to protect? 

The cold, unforgiving numbness loosened its grip; fear, guilt but most strongly, shame coiling in your gut. Maria was right, in her own fucked up way. You had retreated so far back into yourself that all that was left within your grasp now was mere tendrils of who you used to be. 

Sarah would have been proud of me for punching the bastard, though. 

The thought rang in your mind as you raised your head, squared your shoulders. Took the stutter out of your voice, and looked Maria right in the eyes. 

“Your contributing, well-liked citizen said Sarah was lucky to die. That she wouldn’t have gone untouched in a QZ. Whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. And thanks to how well liked he is, I didn’t get a chance to tell you that he’s been touching me for months. That he took advantage of the fact that I was too fucking broken to say anything, to anyone. It’s not like you would’ve believed me.” You watched both Millers’ faces harden, brows furrowing as fury began sinking her talons in their flesh. Joel looked murderous, jaw set at that angle you knew meant he was livid. Good. You had been, too. Tommy looked shocked, anger painting his features, and his wife just looked terrified, eyes darting from you to Joel, wide and panicked. It made you smile at her, the curl of your mouth dripping with condescension and mockery. 

“Maria, I’m so sorry you’ve had to overlook this many…grievances, let’s call them. I’ll work on my attitude here, I promise. I’ll go to book club and gossip about my husband and my dead daughter. I’ll do my hair and cut my nails and smile at people who don’t fucking deserve it. Hell, I’ll even forgive Tommy.” You pause, nodding at him, watching the relief in his eyes. Smile dropping, you meet Maria’s gaze again. 

“But here’s what I won’t do- I won’t stand in a room with that asshole again without breaking all the other bones in his body. I won’t stay quiet next time his hands are on me - I’ll snap his fucking neck. Anyone else with anything else to say about Sarah - even if it’s just goddamn condolences - will find themselves in a similar predicament. Is that clear?” She blinked at you, mouth wide open at the radical transformation in you as you spoke, taking so long to nod that you doubted she’d heard you at first. You didn’t blame her - you’d folded in on yourself, made yourself small these past few years. Become meek: looking at the floor, wringing your hands; doing absolutely anything to avoid confrontation or issue. You’d been too tired to fight or stand on your own two feet, and everyone had focused on the wobble in your voice; the wet lining in your eyes; the shake of your hands, and just decided that just because you chose not to challenge them, you weren’t capable of it. Fuck that. 

Joel’s eyes shone as he looked at you, chin dipping in acknowledgment as he, too, had a stunned look on his face. You just shrugged back at him, swinging your legs and getting up, walking out of the house without so much as a glance over your shoulder. 

The flame that had forged your spirit - the fire burning in your veins, the one snuffed out long ago - flickered back to life. Dim,  shaky, practically translucent - but ignited. 

And fuck, it felt good to be back. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @breakfastatjoels, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis, @pawnshopb1ues. dividers by me! series taglist (same rule: message/comment to be added or removed, no hard feelings): @spookyxsam, @obscurexsorrows, @planet-marz1, @lunxramour, @anavatazes, @joeldjarin, @stunkbiggu, @joels-darlin, @casa-boiardi, @noisynightmarepoetry, @chiogarza, @jasminedragoon, @daddy-din, @moonlightdivine, @stickthegremlin, @jamesmasbone, @avampiregf, @amanitacowboy

[plaest2k]

hey, im a young nz artist too and i like making comics/want to do something bigger when im older, and i think your stuff is genuinely so fucking cool. i love it so much. i was wondering how you pursued art after highschool, like did you go to art school? if so, where and what was that like, and if not, how’d you find the time to continue doing it? its always felt like my opportunities for a career in art specifically seem smaller living in nz, but idk your stuff inspires me to think otherwise. thank you :)

kia ora!!

thanks so much for asking, it's truly so flattering that a young nz artist would ask me for advice! <3 sadly i might not necessarily be the best person to ask...

First of all, it's been a loooooong time since i've been a young artist hahaha I'm 32. After high school, I studied architecture at university because, as you're probably aware, we don't really have art schools like our peers do overseas. But after studying for a few years, I had a major depressive episode and dropped out. After that, I ran away to Korea to teach english for a year before coming back to work in cafes for about 6 years. Back then I was pursuing a career in editorial illustration cause that's what all my favourite artists were doing but I didn't realise that it was a dying industry at the time and there weren't exactly lot of full-time professional artists here who could have warned me...

So after about 10 years of trying to piece together some kind of profession in illustration, I ended up looking for a tattoo apprenticeship which was looking pretty promising but my bosses turned out to be not-so-great people. I tried to keep tattooing on my own but that was around the time COVID hit which wasn't (and still isn't) great for a job that requires you meet face-to-face with a lot of people. So, since the pandemic began, I've just been subsisting off of jobseeker, chipping away at comics and the occasional illustration gig.

The whole experience had me perpetually burnt out for the past ~15 years and made me realise that art as a career really just shouldn't be a thing. Under capitalism, it requires either an embarrassing level of compromise, privilege or luck to pursue. All the household-name artists you know in NZ either come from privilege or got unbelievably lucky. I don't say this as a value judgment or anything, most of them are truly wonderful people, it's just what I've learned about them as colleagues who've worked together a few times over the years.

I don't fault anyone for wanting to pursue that, but if you want to make uncompromising art that makes you feel fulfilled, you can't stake your livelihood on it. Art is supposed to be a by-product of life well lived, not content to be sold.

It's why I'm making plans to go back to uni next year to switch careers into a cushy office job because, as you've observed, even if you still want to pursue this as a full-time career, opportunities for artists in Aotearoa is extremely limited.

Having said all that, there's still a lot of nuance to this whole thing that would take me too long to cover in a tumblr post, so if you'd like me to elaborate or anything or have more questions, you're more than welcome to contact me through my email: plaest2k@gmail.com!

And this offer extends to literally anyone who might be looking for advice or just wants to talk about art <3

Final thing: the thought of studying something else at college/ university and keeping your art as a hobby might sound bleak when you're young, but life is so much longer than you think. You might feel like you have limitless creativity and ideas at the moment but when it becomes your entire life, you burn through it all faster than you'd think. It's because you need fuel to inform what you make and you can't get that from just making art. Like I always say, art is a by-product of a life well lived; You need life-experiences; You need to love, hate, care, be hated and loved to make art and you can't do that if you're too busy to do any of that. Those 3 years you spend on a bachelors is nothing in comparison to a lifetime of staring at a blank page, agonizing over what to make next.

[southparkxreader]

pairings:  post covid ! kyle broflovski, kenny mccormick, stan marsh x reader. trigger warnings : age gaps . reader is in her middle twenties , everyone else is forty nine . specific uses of she/her pronouns ,  uses of y/n + l/n ( get that interactive fic extension loaded , lads  ) .  disclaimer : i haven’t written anything like this in a long time .  only interact with this post if you are 18 or above , minors are not welcomed on my blog . small intro of a future series im going to start in a fic form , putting this out there to see if anyone is interested and to get a taste for how alive the fandom is .

stay with me ... fanfic series being kenny’s assistant.

kenny has a nasty habit of losing track - it can range from his paper work , to notes when he’s going on one of his tangents and just needing to let it all out before it fleets from mind, to as simple as forgetting what day of the week it is : forgetting dates, scheduled events, that sort of thing. he really cannot coordinate his own life if it meant saving it, he’s just got too much going on, ten fold when it comes to his work -

it was kyle’s idea, actually - listening to kenny apologize yet again for forgetting one of the days they were supposed to meet up on. he sighs, exasperated, annoyed, any rational person would be when plans kept going haywire because someone couldn’t even bother to turn up “have you thought about a personal assistant ?” leaning on his kitchen counter, watching the new snow fall as he leaned into the phone “it’ll help. if it doesn’t, i’m just going to stop making plans with you.”

is he being serious ? no, but still - he’s on thin ice.

kenny starts interviewing a week later, because it really isn’t a bad idea - he’s ashamed that he never thought of it sooner. the applications come flooding through, who wouldn’t want a front row seat to a genius like him ? the things they’d get to witness first hand, new discoveries, seeing his mind in person and with a front row seat. it was too good to be true, nobody in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to put their application through.

after about a dozen interviews, he’s just about ready to give up.

then,,,, you come in - it was like he took a shot of vodka with how you snapped him awake - his eyes trail over you for a moment, he could see straight away how nervous you were - despite how much you were trying to hide it. cheeks were clearly flushed, fidgeting with your fingers before you held out a hand towards the man, smile shaky but bright as you did your best to put on a brave face, a little tremble in your hand as anxiety shot through you didn’t go missed, either  “its a pleasure to meet you, mr mccormick, truly, it’s an honour. ” 

well, right then and there, kenny thought you were just the sweetest little thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. he had his mind made up before your hands locked together, his large palm swallowing yours so easily as he sent you a dazzling smile, if any of his friends were in the room they’d make faces, sending him an accusing glare , they know the look too well and it’s anything but innocent “it’s a pleasure meet you too, mrs. l/n. you flatter me too much, please, sit - let’s begin, it says here that you - “

he has to at least pretend to be professional.

you got the phone call later that night with confirmation that you got the job.  did you dance around your apartment, scream the minute the phone call ended ? absolutely you did. now you have a chance to actually enjoy work, to do something with your life rather than dragging yourself through it, to work along side the brightest mind of their generation.

he called kyle up the minute things were confirmed. telling him it was the best and only good idea he'll ever have again. to which he responds with a "fuck you... wait, what are you talking about ... why do you sound like that?" kyle knows, he knows kenny too well not to know.

when stan, kyle and kenny next have a meet up, it’s an annoying shocked and open surprise that kenny graced them with his presence, for having the ability to turn up on time. after a lot of shit talking, kenny finally falls into speaking about you, a little too much, stan and kyle have no choice but to want to meet you.  

when they do ... ?

oh... oh they get it . 

[ziploc849]

Alright I’m back on my TMA bullshit welcome to the circus. This is a long with many episodes worth of thoughts so strap in

62. Holy FUCK. Mary fucking Keay is here and she’s killing people and putting their skin in a book to. Summon them again??? I have truly no understanding of the implications of this but what the hell man. Also Gertrude is either fucking crazy or knew waaaay more than we do (or both. Both is a solid option at this point) cuz she took everything very well. Also when asked who the book was from, Keay just said “The End”??? Like fucking Minecraft???? Idk what the hell this lady is talking about.

(Also I feel like I recognize the idea of a “The *blank*” in this series. I can’t remember if we’ve seen it before or if I’ve just collected some knowledge after being on the outskirts of the fandom for so long but. Whatever it is it’s fucked and I’m intrigued)

63 What is up with this fucking architect guy what is his deal???? Why does he keep building fucked up places where fucked up things happen??? Also weird that the people in the church seem to know/want to cover up something is odd. Also also the end with Melanie King coming back was an interesting lil thing, of all the characters I expected to be recurring I was not expecting her. Don’t like that she got saddled with Not-Sasha though, hopefully it’s nothing or there are at least other witnesses to her leaving cause otherwise she might not be as recurring anymore. Idk what Not-Sasha’s deal is but I Do Not like it

64. ARCHAEOLOGY MENTION FUCK YEAH. I could honestly go on a whole rant about just how much I dislike Gwynne based on her ideals when it comes to archaeology, as someone who wants to be in the field myself, but I digress. I am curious about the fact that this is someone clearly long dead who still was conscious in some capacity? Clearly they didn’t want to continue as they were. It sounds sort of similar to something one of the officers mentioned in an episode they were giving statements (can’t remember which). One of them mentioned being called to a scene where someone who seemed like they should’ve been dead from a suicide attempt kept trying to reach for the gun. The moment where the skeleton was trying to stab themself in the chest gave me a very similar vibe in the worst possible way.

65. I am following maybe 3 of the words this woman is saying in the first 7 or so minutes. But also the stuff she mentions with the man eating the computer is so unbelievably unsettling, and the stuff he was saying is fascinating. “The maze is sharp on my mind. The angles cut me when I try to think” especially reminds me of all the variations of endless mazes or places we’ve seen in the show so far. Jon reaching out to specifically tech savvy people is also super smart, and it’s sick that he has access to Gertrude’s laptop now. Tim and Jon fighting felt like listening to parents fighting. Im glad Jon is both getting a stern talking to and Tim is getting some sort of understanding of where Jon’s coming from. The fact that they both mention they can’t quit/can’t fire the other is interesting especially. I know stuff like that has been mentioned before, I’m pretty sure after the first encounter with the worms Martin mentioned something about “why don’t I quit?” But regardless it’s just another weird fuckin thing going on

66. Mikael fucking Salesa, what is your problem. I honestly don’t have a lot to say about this episode, definitely another example of weird extradimensional spaces, and some mentions of the weird, unexplainable heat, but also the way he mentioned the box “punishing him” as if it was a living thing was interesting. I also have a lot of thoughts on the stuff mentioned about Gertrude, and I’m really fascinated by all the stuff Jon mentioned about stopping asking about who killed her and focusing more on the why. As we’ve actually gotten to hear some of her recordings, esp the one with Mary Keay where she’s incredibly nonchalant about the murder and skin book, I think it’s an interesting idea that she may have been more suspicious that we thought.

Finally I think her lil shopping list was interesting, but honestly it’s the more mundane stuff rather than the Leitners that interest me, but I’ll probably make a seperate post about that cause it kinda rolls into a theory I’ve been sitting on for a little bit now

[jokerlennon]

chess the musical through (vaguely) the lens of mass media and fame and the mismatch and unclear lines between image and real life person. im listening to the concept album but referencing other versions bc #whatever

the citizens of merano trying to sell their little town, delighted by the publicity

the American shows up - already he is referred to without name in the concept album, his identity as a person irrelevant compared to his nationality, his role in the great game - to an adoring crowd.

even when he is not in front of the eyes of the world, he is concerned with his image above all: the first time we see him in private, he reads news about himself. the ego is not an act.

he gives an interview. we learn about his negative press, his tactic of being controversial to stay relevant. how much of it is real? can he even tell?

like the rest of the world, molokov thinks he's mad. the Russian does not. he calls it "third-rate propaganda". he is anxious to reinforce himself as a person and not a symbol of a country, singing about his personal experiences and struggles with being famous. ("times have been good, fast, entertaining. but what's the point if i'm concealing not only love, all other feeling?")

the opening ceremony is our next look at chess through mass media: a long, creative history of cheating, as well as the reinforcement of the idea that this is a match for the ages: the men are no longer merely players, but the two sides on a small-scale proxy war. "we don't want the whole world saying they can't even win a game" etcetera. another opportunity for merchandising cannot be passed up, consumerism swallowing up even the most ancient and intellectual of sports. finally, another feeble insistence that this is just a game.

finally, the game! accusations of cheating fly around from the American - who, as we later find out in some versions, was faking outrage to give himself time to think, playing on the preconceived notions at play that a) chess players cheat b) he is prone to drama (c) the ussr is less trustworthy than the usa?)

in "quartet", even the Russian refers to the American as a nut/fruit, realising that perhaps the media was right for once. as they attempt to calm the tensions the characters all lament that such a game has become a "battleground for rival ideologies to slug it out with glee", all but abandoning the pretenses they keep up in front of the cameras in the name of international cooperation.

"mountain duet" is about Florence and the Russian realising that the other is more than what the media and their preconceptions have made them out to be, that they have more in common than they thought.

"florence quits" shows that the American hasn't always been quite this awful.

when the Russian defects, he is swarmed by reporters. Walter laughs and says "Welcome to the West." anthem shows his complex feelings about his country, which cannot simply be summed up by "defector". the embassy workers think it "boring".

apart from playing into contemporary western perceptions of the city, "one night in bangkok" showcases the American's new image: unaffected, cool, and defected to the side of the many-headed media monster.

i need to put this here somewhere i think. walter as the reporter who is secretly a cia agent

"the interview": the American is well and truly a reporter now, asking similar barbed questions as the unnamed reporters asked him early in the show, but with a more personalised flair. this interview is, too, a spectacle: former opponents on camera together again for the first time in a year. a bizarre reunion, indeed, but one that will draw crowds to Global TV's broadcast. "what's your true motivation?" the American has always been in control of his own narrative more than the Russian, but now he is exerting control over the Russian's image as well. "I won't discuss my private life in public," the Russian says, but as we will soon see, "it's the lead on the news".

Florence and the Russian's relationship is publicised entirely, and while Florence desperately wants him to acknowledge it, his tactic is to ignore it until he's secured the win - an unbreachable rift starts to open between them. he suggests she "watch TV, read the paper, have the miserable time of [her] life" - showcasing how important mass communication has become in the daily life of an average person by the 1980s.

labels get thrown around - communist, democrat, refugee, total shit, silly boy, woman he should have not have let walk out. partner. the truth in any of these varies - they aren't complete hogwash, but they are the same simplifications that have appeared in the media.

"pity the child" gives us some insight into the American's character, and how he came to be like this - a lonely childhood turning into desperate thirst for approval and fame. and yet he doesn't dare seek his mother's approval even now, when he lives his life on television.

miscellaneous highlights of endgame: "prostituting themselves chasing a spurious starlight" "[the sirens of fame and possessions] will destroy you, not rivals, not age, not success" "they all think they see a man [...] whose private life caused his decline, wrecked his grand design"

i don't even know what else to add to this one. just

[blommp717]

hi, thx for being open to everyone! (can i be 🍓 anon? for follow up questions )

first of all i'm sorry this is so long, i've just had some questions about nd for months now and there was no one i felt i could ask until you showed up. i hope it's ok to direct my doubts to you? ( i can break it into smaller, separate questions if you prefer)

i've read all your posts so far and so i've concluded that the person is because i (awareness) know myself to be the person, correct? then how do i know to be something different? i honestly don't know how to do that 😓

i've been studying nondualism for a year now and it's been said that awareness is beyond the mind, so to reach it (and i assume then be able to be something different - since as the person you can't really change anything - ) you need to go beyond the mind. i've been trying to reach beyond the mind recently and what i've gathered so far is that there is a sense of being / existing that is kind of beyond the mind, at least i think it feels that way. you mentioned it to be like an empty presence in a previous post and it felt relatable to what i'm trying to describe.

but idk what to do beyond this… i know that to be aware of something is not the same as affirming it since we've all done that in loa and it went nowhere. i think my question is how to do this without the mind? (since the mind can't reach it) i've also concluded that the mind is intrinsically connected to whatever awareness is conscious of being, for example my mind: I've accepted that i'm awareness and the person / life is a creation i'm experiencing and it's not truly what i am, but my mind can't really express itself and know things that haven't been experienced by this person. i can imagine scenarios and being someone different ofc but at the end of the day my mind always goes back to it's default old me. it only knows this personality and the memories from this person's life, and also ofc it's desires, fears etc.

im mentioning the mind because i kind of feel like it's the only tool i have. i learn about this and try to understand it with my mind, idk how to "be" anything else or to "know" myself to be something else without it.

sorry i hope this makes sense, welp i really hope i'm not annoying you

Hello!!!! Firstly, welcome ☀️🪷🫶 “🍓 Anon” (I quite like the idea of the naming thing you have going on, it’ll really help in future questions).

Alright so let’s do this. I really do appreciate that your able to ask this question I know how it can feel when it’s like, whoooo dooo I askkkk??? So good on you, and no your not annoying me, I do this because I love helping you guys and want this to be as easy as possible so if that means ask 100 questions then oh well 🤭🤭. (I do urge you to not just ask but also do)

So yes, inherently everything is broken down to “ “ or awareness, now where I think the disconnect comes is when (and I’ve done this myself allot in the past) you guys try to seperate awareness from the illusion as if it’s two seperate things, awarness is not an entity or person or magical being, it’s all there is. Awarness is the best word I can use to describe what “it” really is, so my apologies.

You asked “how do I know to be something different” well, let’s break it down. Perceiving and being has no attachment to knowing. If I said “ strawberry” you wouldn’t think “I have a knowing about a strawberry” but you’d just think about the strawberry, or better yet, perceive/be aware of a strawberry. And that’s it. The appearance of what apparently is (this world) is no different from what you are, it’s all the same exact thing. When I say you are awarness, yes, but so I everything else, everything “relies” on it(you) to exist. The realization of a thought or an idea or event, is the experience, is it being “real”. Without awarness there is absolutely nothing to experience.

Now I’m gonna tell you something really crazy……

Your already here, please stop thinking that “awarness” needs to be maintained or something, as if it’s some source of power that your not already. The idea of a journey of needing to search and find is the reason it exists. Realizing “I have to be aware” makes no sense really, if this god is all there is, what’s there to find? Everything that appears is what it (you) appears as. It’s really just you perceiving yourself as something different.

I will never tell you guys not to make it easier for yourself, affirming, visualizing, etc are just tools to help you refocus this limitless, everythingness to something specific to instantly appear as that thing, therefore the experience. You said you keep returning to “me” at the end of the day. But do you also realize that this persona of who the person is, is made up. Made up through effortlessly igniting stories that have shown to you as the experience. It’s not that there’s only this persona, that there’s only who you know right now, this is just a selected thought. Infinite, limitless, meaning anything. You state/claim it, and you ARE that instantly, not in the future, right now because there is only now. The mind in and of itself is also just like everything else, there, but and illusion. The mind doesn’t think thoughts, no one really makes thoughts happen except the realization of the thoughts themselves. A thought is also just “ “, the “3D” is also just “ “ nothing can escape because it is “ “. The clay can take 100 different forms but it’ll always just be clay, whatever I name it like “pot” “plate” “vase” is meaningless. It’ll always be clay. Everything will always be “ “ regardless of what forms it(you) take up. I would drop the “constraints” of the world because it’s just you. You think you’re never gonna get it? Guess what, there’s nothing to get, you just actively experienced “I’m never gonna get it”. Effortlessly. It’s like a bundle package. Everything that entails the idea or concept is what the experience is. So someone who thinks constantly about not seeing “movement” is going to experience everything that entails that. You make it true in less than an instant.

I really hope that made a little bit of sense because wooooo I’ve been really tired recently 😝😝🤭🤭 if you need more clarity, you can always ask more questions! 🪷😝🫶☀️🍓🍓🍓

[camywamycam]

what was left behind in the rubble P.3

702 words

soon to be harry x reader 

TW//WRITTEN AT 4 AM BY A SLEEP DEPRIVED TEEN!!!

A/N

I know this is a short chapter and im sorry 😭 I finished writing this at 4 am because I can only write at night since I'm with my mom and siblings all day and I refuse to write in front of them 😭 maybe it wasnt a good idea to start a full ass fanfic story with a plot 2 weeks before I leave for summer camp but yolo, ive decided im gonna have this fic go from the summer - hoggwarts and y/n will start acting a lot more like Sirius iykwim 

y/ns pov

................

If you had been in the right mindset, you would have impatiently pushed Remus away the second he stepped foot into your room. However, at that moment, all you needed was a hug. You clung onto the soft fabric of his cable knit sweater, which carried the strong scent of chocolate, cigars, and parchment. Remus held you firmly in his arms, patiently waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to open up about your thoughts.

"I hate him," you said in a broken voice.

"You don't mean that," Remus replied, his uncertainty evident in his words. "He loves you, he just... doesn't know the right way to express himself, that's all."

"Well, he obviously doesn't have that problem with Potter," you spat, your voice tinged with envy. "When I traveled all the way to Europe to see my biological father, I was kind of hoping he wouldn't be a total dick."

Remus sat and listened attentively as you rambled, finally realizing how left out you had truly been. The other children never spoke to you, and neither did the adults, except for the usual greetings. The more he spoke to you, the more he learned about your experiences. He discovered that while you were neglected at Grimlands place, you had met a group of muggles who had welcomed you into their friend group so at least you hadn't been totally alone. In the mere 45 minutes of conversation, Remus had already learned more about you than your very own father.

You and Remus continued to chat throughout the night in the room which you had made your own. For the first time in a while when you woke up that morning you didn't feel absolutely terrible. you turned to your side and checked your phone notifications before getting ready for the day.

you tried to sprint down the stairs as quietly as possible knowing the other adults in the house wouldn't be so happy about you sneaking off to hang around strange people whom they knew nothing about. It was almost comical how much they tried to control you when you and they both knew they didn't care about you in the slightest. As you raced down the stairs you bumped into a pale boy with messy black hair and glasses that were a tad bit too large for his face. "black." he spat "potter." "and where do you think you are going?" he said sassily 

harrys pov

....................

it was strange seeing y/n actually dressed. since none of the kids went outside we mostly stayed in our lounging clothes. I took note of y/ns red top, flared jeans, a jean jacket that was covered in patches, and Converse. She actually looked quite nice... but I would never admit that. 

"out." that's all she said as she tried pushing past me. I grabbed a hold of her wrist "What's your problem? You've been acting rude ever since you got here. You could at least try to talk to your dad." she scoffed in my face "Oh I've tried. he's the one who doesn't want me here." "Maybe he would actually like you if you weren't such a bitch." I was shocked at the words falling from my mouth. did I say that out loud? my thoughts were confused as y/n turned around and punched me square in the nose. Adults rushed in as they heard me fall into a vase smashing it while holding my bloody nose. Mrs. Weasly scolded y/n “what on earth have you done!” she screamed at y/n but she just looked around with a red face and big eyes as she rushed towards the door slamming it shut, not that anyone cared.

"don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry," you thought to yourself as you ran to your friends' house. luckily she asked no questions and just welcomed you in with open arms. you eventually told her what had happened at Grimmlands place and she was pissed. both her parents said you could stay with them as long as you needed. they even let you move into the guest room so you wouldn't have to continue sleeping on your friend's floor. you know that you can't stay here long since school is starting soon, but you might as well enjoy it while you can.

tag list 

@moonys0chocolate @venomsvl  @quackitysdrugdealer @superduckmilkshake

[sicknessbysalem]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Five

@monthofsick | day five: undesirable caretaker

im not really feeling the last few days worth of prompts at this time, so i am going backwards and doing prompts that i was interested in

important note: as you may have seen @simplysickness asked me if i would take the reins of some of their old characters as they dont have time to write anymore. i have taken on the responsibility, but it is kind of scary. as it stands right now, i'm thinking i'm only collecting rowan/caspian and lex/soren. sparrow has told me i am welcome to make any background changes/turn the characters into my own (however, i speak with them often so i always get their approval first, lol). any hate/harassment will be blocked, as the original creator of these characters requested i take those reins.

now that that is out of the way it is fic time!

tw emeto, fever, implied abusive parent

Rowan knew this was going to be one of the worst state dinners to date. Granted, he thought that for every state dinner that he was forced to attend, but this one truly took the top spot for worst state dinners ever. And it hadn't even happened yet.

It started the day before they were supposed to leave. To catch their flight. He couldn't sleep, something didn't feel right. At the moment, he didn't feel sick, he just felt as though something was wrong. But it's the flight that solidifies both what was keeping him up, and that this state dinner would be the worst by far.

Rowan felt nauseous. Terribly so. Not even two hours in to the seven hour flight. He was dozing off while his mother was talking to him, giving him a run down of how his behavior should be. Every time he was dozing off, she would roughly nudge his arm to wake him.

"Listen to me," His mother demanded, "You need to behave, now more than ever."

"I'm listening, your highness," Rowan said, "You could have left me home."

"Absolutely not," The queen argued, "Not after your last stunt. Now, stay awake and listen."

Rowan tried, he did. But he was feeling worse and worse as time passed. Her words made him feel sicker, his mouth salivating and his throat growing tight. He didn't exactly have much faith in the idea that he wouldn't be sick before they even got where they were going.

"For the love of all things sacred," His mother said, "Listen. Can you do that for once?"

"I don't feel good," Rowan said softly.

"What did you say?" His mom asked.

Rowan took a deep breath, "I don't feel good. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The queen's eyes narrowed with disdain, "You can't be serious, Rowan. Not now.”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan sighed, “Really.”

“This is so typical of you,” Isabella glared at her son, “You always find a way to ruin everything.”

Rowan knew there was no sense in fighting her reprimands. He wished Caspian was here. Or really, anyone who would at the very least not make it out like he was a terrible person for something he couldn’t help.

The airplane's descent only intensified Rowan's discomfort, and by the time they landed, he was pale and visibly unwell. The royal entourage awaited them on the tarmac, and as Rowan stepped off the plane, he could barely stand. His mother, however, paid no mind to his obvious distress.

"We have a schedule to keep, Rowan," she insisted, her tone unwavering. "You will compose yourself for the state dinner. I won't have you embarrass the family any further."

Barely able to muster a response, Rowan did what he did best. He faked it. He took a deep breath, stood straight, fixed his attire. If he could just keep his mother happy, maybe this would be easier to manage.

The vehicle that awaited them seemed like a sanctuary, but as they approached, the reality sank in that there was no reprieve for him. The queen insisted he join her in the car, despite his plea for a moment to collect himself. He knew that meant several things. The car's interior felt suffocating, and Rowan sank into the plush seat, desperately trying to suppress the queasiness gnawing at him. Queen Isabella, however, showed no sympathy.

"You're always making a spectacle of yourself, Rowan," she scolded, her eyes fixed on him in the rearview mirror. "Do you realize the inconvenience you've caused? We can't afford any more scandals. Certainly not from you, the crown prince himself."

Rowan winced, not from his stomachache but from his mother's relentless words. He nodded weakly, unable to meet her gaze.

"I truly thought sending you to the conservatory would fix you, but here we are, as always causing issues when you can just leave well enough alone," Queen Isabella declared, her disappointment evident. "You're supposed to be the crown prince, for heaven's sake, not a burden. Not after your sister.”

As the car sped towards their destination, Rowan clung to the hope that this ordeal would soon be over.

Deep breath. In and out. In and out.

Rowan stood in front of the ornate mirror, trying to muster the energy to prepare for the state dinner.

He had barely managed to shower and change into formal attire when a wave of nausea hit him with relentless force.

Rowan took his suit jacket off. Then took off the button up. His stomach felt horrendous, yes, but he forced himself to stay composed to eliminate ruining his attire. Saving himself a lecture if nothing more.

Rowan clutch the sink, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He swallowed saliva, acid, anything. He tried to suppress the nausea to not avail.

He felt his stomach convulse, pulling in with a gag. A sick burp, he spit acid tasting saliva in the sink.

He tried to breathe. He ran the sink. Closed his eyes to ease the dizziness. Nothing helped. The prince retched into the porcelain bowl. The sound echoed in the opulent bathroom.

His mother was probably settling in herself. She probably wouldn’t hear his struggles. Rowan heaved again.

A little more acid, but Rowan could feel there was more. Too much more to stay at the sink.

He went to the toilet, heaving as soon as the lid was up. He heaved so hard that he fell to his knees.

He threw up once. Mostly water, the drink one of the royal assistants gave him that allegedly should have helped him feel better. For a moment, Rowan realized how sad it was that assistants cared more for him than his own mother.

He threw up a second time. It wasn’t much. He was sure it was the little snack and small breakfast from that morning. But thinking about breakfast made him recall dinner and lunch from the night before, and soon enough chunky waves of vomit came up his throat.

A third wave. A fourth. A fifth. Dry heaving. Rowan’s throat was burning, his nose running, and his vision blurred from tears of exertion.

He stood unsteadily. His breaths were shaking and everything felt strange, weak. He flushed the toilet, he rinsed his mouth with the water in the sink. Even rinsed it with mouthwash, not trusting his stomach’s ability to tolerate brushing his teeth again.

He stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed some water. He knew he would probably have to fake health, so the least he could do for himself is try to replace some of what he lost.

"I told you to compose yourself, Rowan," his mother's voice carried from the adjoining room. "We don't have time for your theatrics."

Rowan glanced at his reflection, his eyes reflecting a mix of evident sickness and frustration. The idea of attending the dinner seemed impossible, but Queen Isabella's relentless expectations loomed over him. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

"I'm really not feeling well," Rowan managed to say, his voice strained. "I think I need to skip dinner. For both of our sakes." Queen Isabella entered the room, her expression stern.

"This is not the time for your excuses, Rowan. You will attend, and that's final."

As Rowan struggled to stand upright, a fresh bout of nausea overcame him. He felt weak and defeated, but his mother's gaze remained unmoved. He leaned on the closest counter for support.

"Enough of this nonsense," his mother snapped. "You're not ruining this for us. Get yourself together and show some respect for your position."

Rowan sat at the table. He didn’t even know who all was here. Each conversation was blending into a cacophony of polite pleasantries. The scent of rich foods and fine wines filled the air, but to Rowan, they only intensified his nausea.

With each forced bite and polite sip, his stomach rebelled further, churning with discomfort. He tried to engage in conversation, to maintain the facade of the dutiful prince, but his efforts were futile. Every word spoken was an effort, every smile strained.

His mother, Queen Isabella, watched him like a hawk, her disapproving gaze a constant weight on his shoulders.

“You're not touching your food, Rowan," she remarked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Are you trying to embarrass me even further?"

Rowan forced a weak smile, pushing the food around his plate. "Just not hungry, Mother," he managed to murmur, his throat dry and constricted.

But as the dinner progressed, Rowan's condition deteriorated rapidly. The room spun around him, and everything around him felt like it became a blur of colors and sounds. Desperately, he reached for his glass of water, hoping to quell the rising tide of sickness within him.

Yet with each sip, the nausea intensified, and Rowan knew he was fighting a losing battle. He glanced desperately at his mother, silently pleading for understanding, but her expression remained cold and unforgiving.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Rowan pushed himself away from the table, his chair scraping against the polished floor. "Excuse me," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "I need to… I'll be back."

Queen Isabella's eyes flashed with irritation, but Rowan paid her no mind as he stumbled towards the exit, the world spinning around him. He barely made it to the nearest restroom before the contents of his stomach emptied, his body wracked with spasms of nausea.

As he leaned against the cool tiles, tears pricking at his eyes, Rowan knew that his mother's disapproval would have to wait. In that moment, his only concern was surviving the night, one agonizing moment at a time.

He heard the door swing open. Queen Isabella stormed into the restroom, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment.

“Rowan, this is unacceptable," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air. "You cannot simply excuse yourself from the dinner without a valid reason."

Rowan tried to speak, but another wave of nausea overtook him. He doubled over, retching violently as his mother watched with a mixture of irritation and disdain.

He threw up everything he tried to force down. To make matters worse, it was almost entirely undigested. It hurt a lot, and Rowan could feel the way he struggled to catch his breath. Before going through another round of vomiting.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, Queen Isabella's tone softened slightly, though her frustration remained evident.

"Fine, you're clearly unwell," she conceded, her words laced with skepticism. "But we can't have a scene. I'll tell the others you suddenly fell ill. But mark my words, Rowan, this will not be forgotten."

With a dismissive gesture, she signaled for her assistant to assist Rowan.

"Take him back to the suite," she ordered curtly. "And make sure he stays there. I won't have him causing any more trouble tonight."

Rowan's heart sank as he was led away, the weight of his mother's disappointment heavy on his shoulders. He knew he should have been relieved to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the dinner, but all he felt was a profound sense of loneliness and despair.

As the night wore on, Rowan's condition only worsened, each wave of nausea more debilitating than the last. Alone in the suite with his mother, Queen Isabella's displeasure was obvious. She paced the room impatiently, her frustration evident in every sharp exhale and furrowed brow.

"I can't believe you're still not feeling well," she muttered, her tone tinged with annoyance. "This is highly inconvenient, Rowan. You know I have important engagements tomorrow, as do you."

Rowan sighed softly, spitting in the trash can by the bed.

"I don't have time for this," Queen Isabella continued, her agitation mounting. "And to top it all off, you won't be able to take your medication tonight. Do you realize what a mess you're causing?"

Rowan's heart sank at her words, the weight of her disapproval crushing him further. He knew his mental health medication was crucial for stabilizing his condition, but to his mother, it was just another inconvenience. Everything was an inconvenience to her and he wished he was back home. Back with Caspian, he would even take Linnea right now. Someone who saw him as a person, not a problem.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tumult in his mind. "I can't help being sick."

Queen Isabella's expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained evident. "Well, you'll just have to get better quickly," she replied brusquely. "I can't afford to have you dragging down our responsibilities with your problems. Especially not my responsibilities. Your sister was never this much of a problem to me."

With a heavy sigh, she settled into an armchair, her gaze fixed on Rowan with a mixture of disdain and resignation. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, the only comfort he found was in the hope that eventually, he would find solace away from the suffocating expectations of royalty and the unyielding disapproval of his mother.

[sparklyslug]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @aidaronan and @softbrah thank yewwwwwww!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

50!!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

405,752

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now it's all Stranger Things, all the time baby. But you never know when the madness might strike for something new. Or re-strike for something I thought I was done with haha.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In Focus (Check Please) Up the Punks (Stranger Things) we're gonna fight til we do it right (Check Please) If you want him, come and claim him (Stranger Things) t'hy'la (Stranger Things)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I'm usually really good about it for the first day or so after a fic has posted, and then I kind of.... fall off with it usually. I read all comments! I appreciate all comments! Usually what happens is I see the email notif on my phone, mentally go "ah I will craft a perfectly thoughtful and appreciative and stirring response to this later when I have time to do it justice!" and then I do not do that.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The one that comes to mind is a fic I wrote for the Hobbit, hands too small to hold it, which is an AU where everyone lives but Bilbo still has the ring and the events of LOTR are still barreling towards them.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Let Us Dwell in Fair Ithilien and There Make a Garden with @greenlikethesea is ONE BIG MASSIVE HAPPY ENDING (after 10+years of tragic angsty pining but w/e). I also wrote a little happy family ever after Garak/Bashir for Star Trek DS9, between the noise.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

noooo it's never happened! If I'm getting hate it's behind my back ahaha who knows what goes down in y'alls discords, that’s none of my business! Im a Leo and I work in marketing, so I am not terribly tortured by that kind of thing ahahaha

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

SURE DO! I don't know what "what kind" means. The smut kind. I've done closed door fade to black, I've done some explicit stuff, I try to give you range baby.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I LOVE A CROSSOVER! Star Trek/Stranger Things is pretty crazy. My current project is Stranger Things/You've Got Mail put in a blender with Supernatural, so that's decently zany too.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I thought Quorum had been translated into Chinese, but I can't find any evidence of it, so might be all in my head ahaha.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I love to collaborate with folks! When the creative chemistry is right it's RIGHT, and it's so fun to ping-pong ideas and paragraphs back and forth. I co-wrote Check Please fics with @softbrah, have written a universe of Stranger Things fic with @greenlikethesea, and it's all been a blast. Me and @aidaronan are cooking up some ideas, if the two of us can ever stop signing up for bangs and things long enough to get to em.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Well of course I will say Steddie right now because I've been living here for over a year and a half. It truly does have just the most delicious dynamic, however the setup and wherever you take their characterizations.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't know if I'll ever finish my Vampire Eddie immediately post-canon fic, I didn't have much direction with it, just Vibes.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm good with atmospheric sensory details, it's something I really care about when writing at least. I definitely enjoy dialogue, too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes are hard, and I struggle with nailing (heh) the physicality of sex scenes. My haters in their discords are welcome to chime in here 😂😂

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I have no thoughts in particular. If it works in the fic and you've made sure your translation is right if you're not fluent in that language, hell yeah.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. You will never see this fic.

N E V E R.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

IT IS REALLY HARD TO CHOSE AMONGST MY CHILDREN. I put a lot of my heart into I was open to pain and crossed by the rain (Wayne Munson my beloved) and I'm really proud of what I did with that one. I truly wrote Can't We Be Seventeen knowing it was really just for me, to scratch one of those desperate writing itches after an intense period of fixating on the Heathers musical soundtrack, and I really like that fic too.

Tagging @occasionaloverboy@greenlikethesea @thefreakandthehair @henrystars @capriciouslyterminal

[eddieschains]

incoming sappy post for baby’s birthday

my best friend had been watching stranger things since the beginning, and once she found out i had never even finished season 1 (don’t yell at me 😅), she had a FIT. she practically forced me to watch it so that we would have something in common to talk about and jesus h christ am i glad she did.

i loved it. i finally understood why there was such a huge fandom surrounding this show. i binged it all as fast as i could. and then when i started season 4, i saw him. i was immediately transfixed by his character, his performance, and just the way he carried himself. i fell down a rabbit hole, trying to figure everything out about this man that i could which in turn, made me watch practically everything he’s ever acted in.

i just thought he was amazing. the way he’s able to just perfectly nail every single character he ever plays, and make you feel exactly what you’re supposed to feel while watching him was magic. i truly believe he is one of the greatest actors of his generation.

so i started liking a lot of photos and videos of him on instagram, and following some fan pages on there and i made a friend through him! it was crazy that after watching him in one season of a show would turn into this crazy hyper fixation over everything he could ever do 😂

and one day i got the random idea to log back into tumblr after years of abandoning it, wondering if people still write fan fiction and if they wrote about him. plot twist, they do, and im so so so glad they do. i came across @ceriseheaven and let me just say, i had NEVER read anything that transported me the way her writings did.

i read everything. i was mesmerized. i kept reading any and everything i could find about joe or eddie and that was when i found @choke-me-joey . i saw the way she would write about any and everything that could possibly come to mind when it came to joe and eddie, and somehow finding her turned into a real friendship. a friendship that i honestly will cherish for the rest of my life.

these two beautiful creatures really inspired me to start writing again after idk 8 years?? and holy shit has it been a whirlwind. i was so nervous to start again, thinking that i was going to be absolute shit. but you guys all made me feel so welcome in the writing community, and you’ve really supported me in this journey and i can’t thank you enough.

even when i was deep in my 1D phase, i never felt a sense of community like i have here. and i never developed friendships the way i have with you guys. i genuinely can barely remember what my life was like before this but i can imagine it was pretty miserable since you guys weren’t in it 😘

so happy birthday joe. thank you for everything. 🤍

[a-very-tired-raven]

Aw dammit, you guys are makin me wanna post this now(10:05) instead of 11:00, but im strong lmao (WARNING, long post ahead)

Anyways, i wanted to start this post off, by giving a thanks to all the truly wonderful people ive met on this platform from this year, last year, when i first joined, and the years to come. Youve all made my experience here wonderful, and to be honest youve made me feel so very very welcomed, and especially loved.

I came to this (wonderful)hellsite during a really lonely time in my life. A few years ago, around the later days of june, 2019, looking for more undertale content. What i didn't expect to find at all, were all the wonderful people im so so so very glad to now call my friends.

All of you, and i mean all, of you invited and welcomed me into your blogs with open arms, kindness, and silly jokes. Even going to the lengths introducing me to your other friends and making me apart of your friend groups. And...i genuinely cannot express how thankful i am for that.

Im so serious, i feel so loved and cared for every single day now, i always have someone to vent or talk with, someone to joke and ramble with, so many people that ive intertwined into this little online family of mine.

Weve all been through..a lot these past three years. What, with covid, loss, hate, and so much more. What im grateful for, is that i havent lost any of you, which not only am i suprised about, but also so grateful. You guys make me feel like the best verison of myself, and make me feel..well..me. we've all stuck together and looked out for each other, helped each other out with our problems, and shared art and stories.

Ive had the pleasure of meeting some very fine, brilliant, and respectable people thus far, and have had the honor of talking with some astonishing young friends. Ive even had the pleasure of gaining followers, and have received fanart of my own characters!! Which, i would have never guess would have happened. Ever. And yet it did, and that means so much to me.

So i suppose what im trying to do, or well..say here, is that all of you have turned my life for the better, and id like to thank you for that.

Thank you, @let-love-run-red @ratsoh-writes @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @vrnicky @a-gods-somewhat-mortal-form @icelingbolt @shimmer-lamp and @glaucus22 for being my very first friends in here, for welcoming me so warmly, and sharing your art and introducing me to so many cool people. I wouldn't have had as good as an experienced as ive had with you to have shown me kindness in the way the way you did

Thank you @glitchysquidd for giving me the honor of seeing your artwork, and goofing off with me from time to time.

Thank you @mochamashi @kuvvydraws and @underfell-crystal for being so nice to me, and taking time out of your days to chat and listen to my stupid little jokes

Thank you @luminawithherdaemonlinh @wisteria-and-crocuses and again @mochamashi for all the fanart youve sent me iver the months, and all the kind and craziness youve shown me. Thanks for going on crazy little rants with me wisteria, and a big thank to you lumnia for supporting me and my art for so long

Thank you @shimmer-lamp for being there with me since day one, for letting me vent and trusting me enough to confide in me at times.

Thank you @rainbowut @the1920sisntaphasemom and @scienceisfood for giving me so many ideas and laughter, i really do appreciate you guys and i feel as if i dont say it enough. You guys so are hilarious- seriously, i appreciate it

Thank you so so much @hearty-dose-of-ranch @kioko-noodles @fruitsnackart @skele-fucker @sendryl and @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut taking me in your friendgroup so fast, and so warmly. Before you guys took me in, all of you inspired me and my art so much...i could hardly believe i was actually talking to you guys and was considered a friend??! My hands were shakey, my breath was wobbly, and yet you guys never thought twice about including me. You all have been there for me since ive met you, you all have (patiently)listened to my stuttering and ramblings without a second thought, youve all introduced me to so many cool things and have made me feel so so loved..i cant possibly thank you enough. Youve done so much for me

Thank you @ratsoh-writes for enduring my chaos and bad jokes. Youve made my dumbass feel incredibly welcomed, not to mention being such a big fuckin inspiration??? Youre one of the reasons i started to get confident in my art man. Ive used your art as references so much- and youve been such a good friend to me as well?? Be angry about me gettin muchy all you want, i love you ya stinky sewer varmit.

Thank you @springbon-t-art for showing me kindess even more since i joined the hellscape that is tumblr. Youve showed me nothing less then gentle smiles and kind words, and i thank you for that. Your art has inspired me for years, and most likely years to come from now. So thank you for inspiring me enough to pick up a pencil and start scribbling down on the floorboards

And a big big thank you to @let-love-run-red love...i dont even know where to begin. You've helped me through so much, you've inspired and taught me so much fuckin stuff...you've been one of the best damn friends i could ever have. You've supported me and my cringe drawings since the day i entered your inbox as that shy little anon on that late August day.

Hell, you're the damn reason i started writing. I still remember the tips you given me, all the advice and confidence. And i sincerely thank you for that. You have shown me nothing other then kindness and hardcore support. And i cannot express how much that means to me

And theres so many more people i have yet to thank but unfortunately cannot due to tag limits and my memory. Id have to make another post and make sure i havent forgotten anyone lmao, but thank you all!! To my close moots and followers, to the big inspirations ive yet to summon up the courage to talk to

I seriously, would have not made it this far without you dorks, and i sincerely, and genuinely, hope ive made an impact at least a fragment of the size you guys have made on me. Thank you all for giving me a place to call home on this little site.

Right now the time is 10:41 as i wrap this up, so im gonna go ahead and post this(probably willl be 11 or 12 by the time you twerps get to this point lmao)

So HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

And happy many years to come!!! I cant wait to see what this years brings us, what bonds strengthen and friends we'll meet. Thank you for the wild ride and for all the adventures to come!!

[sillyengineerperson]

Ahhhh 1989 (Taylor’s Version) !!!!

This is the first Taylor Swift album that I remember all the build up for it and then when it actually came out. I do vaguely remember red but I was only 5 so I wasn’t very invested in everything and my mum bought me the CD for Christmas and also fearless. But then with 1989 I was 7 and I remember when blank space was released and getting really excited when it was played at a friend’s birthday party. And then in early 2015 at my street dance groups showcase my class did a dance to shake it off. So yeah 1989 is when I truly became a swiftie and being actively involved rather than just listening to a CD my mum bought me.

I’m currently listening to it and yeah here are my thoughts..

Welcome to New York- slayed. Yeah this song has always been a vibe and it still is

Blank space- there’s something different about the percussion and I love it. I’m remembering when this first came out and loving it and the music video and I feel really nostalgic.

Style- oh yes the guitar 🤌!!!! I feel so cool listening to this in the car. Why does this song feel so magical?!!! Yes slay

Out of the woods- this was my fourth favourite on the original (if we ignore the deluxe version bc I don’t own that CD) so I have high hopes. OH YES! The BRIDGE! My favourite so far! I’m so sad this isn’t on the eras tour set list

All you had to do was stay- love it! The vibes and beat drop at the start of the chorus is yes. Yes Taylor I will be staying. This wasn’t one of my favourites originally and I don’t think this has changed how I feel about it but still it’s a vibe and I love it.

Shake it off- I’m scared. I have so many memories attached to this song from hearing for the fist time when I was 7, watching the music video, rehearsing the dance I was preforming in a show to this, actually doing the performance and doing a round off with my best friend, and a couple of months ago dancing to this with friends at prom. Okay I will actually listen to it now. The DRUMS. IM IN LOVE. I WILL BE HAVING A DANCE PARTY WHEN I GET HOME. AHHH THE BRIDGE. Okay yeah I don’t really know what to say I loved it

I wish you would- this was my third favourite on the original so yeah. Ooo the guitar interesting… Yeah I love this. The vibes 🤌 tbh I think I’m just sad about saying bye to the original

Bad blood- I think this might be moving up in my original ranking of this album… (it was pretty low and I’m not sure why) all I can think about is Selena Gomez vibing to this rn 😂 the music video is beautiful though. I think I love this song even more now

Wildest dreams- this has been out for ages so I don’t have anything to say other than 💞

How you get the girl- I did not like this when it came out in 2014 but I did warm up to it so we will see… The bass is helping me like it more. I like the change in how the music sounds. If this was what was released in 2014 then 7 year old me would have gotten over that fact they didn’t like the lyrics (I like them a lot more now). Me gusta más 👌

This Love- same for wildest dreams- one more thing. I will never not think of the summer I turned pretty when I listen to this and it pains me slightly as a member of team Jeremiah

I know places- this was my favourite on the original so I’m very scared. So far so good. I like it. Taylor you are not disappointing. IM SO LEARNING THE BASSLINE. AND WE RUNN!!! Yes I love I live I laugh (not really laughing more like crying but I was trying to be funny)

Clean- so this was my second favourite on the original but it was my favourite up until I was 14 ( I’m not really sure why i suddenly liked I know places more but yeah. I also don’t know why I loved clean so much especially when I was 10 like genuinely who hurt me?? 😂 -I think I might have an idea but we are not going that deep into my emotions today-) okay here we go. Oh my GOSH. This is everything! I might cry. The ahhh before the final chorus was not as long as I would have liked but I still love everything. Oh YES the ending.

Wonderland- now I go through phases with this song where I either love it and would die for it or I’m just like meh. And this changes A LOT.

YES YES YES. I’m very excited to finally have this on CD. I’m very happy with this. Someone just called me in the middle of it 😭. Okay still vibing. She better deliver with the vocals. YEAH!

You are in love- did I love this the first time I heard it? No. However it grew on me but only recently so I’m not sure what’s going to happen.

It sounds almost exactly the same. Not complaining though, I do love it. Yes 🙌. Wasn’t my favourite song in the first place so I didn’t listen to the original enough to have a good comparison between the two but it was good.

New Romantics- words cannot describe how much I love this songgggg!!! Singing this in the car on the way to prom with my friends is one of my favourite memories so yes I am very scared

Nice getting louder. I like it so far 👍. Were those CHILDREN??? Who called kidz bop? The build up to the chorus just collapsed like I’m sorry but what was that?? Everything else is fine like I love it the vibes are YES but the children why?? It’s so quiet as well. I love everything but I feel slightly like I’m at a very intense club where they only play kidz bop instead of running through a forest in a long flowy dress. I’m a bit disappointed

✨the vault tracks✨ (this must be said in a choir like voice)

“Slut!”- I was so excited when I saw this title so 🤞

Oh my gosh I’m dyyyinggggg!!!! The colours 😆. That was goooood. I’m gonna need to listen to it again to know how I feel but yeah I really like that!!!

Say don’t go- at the moment not sure what to expect

Reference to getaway carrr!!!!! I LOVE THIS SOOO MUCH. The references ahhhh. I will be playing this loudly in my car (when I can drive and actually have one). Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

Now that we don’t talk- all I can think is we don’t talk anymore by Charlie puth and Selena Gomez

This is the start of a movie. YES THE BEAT! Niceeee. Vibing, vibing very much. Yeah I don’t really know what else to say

Suburban legends- i am very very excited for this

Ooo straight into it nice. This feels like a midnights song. ‘You kiss me in a way that’s gonna screw me up forever’ huh?! 🫨🫡. The bridge I…. Yeah we need to listen to that again

Is it over now?- feels really midnights again. Oh my gosh these lyrics…. 😱😭. This is amazing. I need to be revived sheesh.

So I think… I don’t know what I think but yeah that was pretty good. I have some issues cough New Romantics cough but also my headphone are shite and I really want new ones so I’m nearly home and I will listen to it on my CD which has hopefully arrived and will probably reblog this with a better conclusion than this. 👍✨🤌🩵

[sovaharbor]

posted this on r/da's weekly writing thread forever ago but now i'm putting it here bc i was thinking about it

Eimhin Lavellan hadn’t been home in years. Too many by now. The location of his clan had changed multiple times since he’d last seen it – and no longer could he trace his way through the familiar forests he once knew, using fallen trees and mossy rocks as markers to guide his way. The land here was more open, yet still overgrown. Weeds had sprouted, vines had overtaken the makeshift fences used to keep the halla reigned in, and the aravels were weathered down, their paint faded and their wood chipped.

The humidity of the soon-returning rain clung to Eimhin, almost weighed him down further with each step – or maybe that was the mud mucking his boots up. To say Eimhin wanted to return to his clan would have been a stretch, and a long one at that. Probably as long a stretch as he was tall, he wagered, as he stopped beside the Iron Bull, head coming to rest against his large shoulder.

“This is it?” the Iron Bull asked quietly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the peace that had fallen amongst the camp.

Eimhin hummed in confirmation. “Right before your very eyes,” he murmured. “Rather pretty, don’t you think?”

“Bit of a doozy, really,” Sera quipped from behind. “You sure you want to be here, Inquisitor? Not much of a welcome party, I’d say.”

“Vishante kaffas,” said Dorian. He walked up to Eimhin’s other side, standing resolutely there beside him. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he snapped at Sera, “A little decorum might serve you well, don’t you think?”

“I’m just bein’ honest!”

“Is now truly the best time for—“

“It’s fine,” said Eimhin, his voice coming out a bit tighter and louder than he’d intended. At once the bickering quieted, and he could feel Sera’s eyes at the back of his head, Dorian’s and Bull’s beside him; it made him antsy. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Sera was right.

But still, Eimhin’s legs suddenly carried him forward. He felt Dorian’s fingers catch his wrist, holding on loosely, and Bull’s hand settle itself at the small of his back. Sera’s footsteps picked up behind him after a moment’s pause, squelching through the mud. It was like there were eyes permanently stuck on Eimhin and his little group, watching their every movement. He wondered what his parents might say, seeing him with a Tevinter human and a hulking Qunari linked to him like that. Or what his Keeper might say to Sera; he’d sooner guess it’d be an offer to stay rather than a demand to leave. Eimhin wasn’t so elf-y anymore, either; the Circle had changed him, even though the vallaslin inked into his skin months before his capture served a permanent reminder that this, here, was where he would always be from.

Suddenly, Sera swore. A beat later, she exclaimed, “Maker’s tits, who leaves a half-broken dagger laying around for someone to trip over?”

All three remaining in the group whirled around. Sera was frowning, hastily trying to wipe all the muck off the hilt of the blade.

Eimhin’s ears twitched uneasily. “Let me see it,” he said, brushing past Bull and Dorian to reach for the blade. Sera handed it over without any fight, and Eimhin used the end of his cloak to clean off the mud and dirt and—blood. It flaked off easily, and revealed a name carved into the hilt. “Ithara.” Eimhin swallowed thickly. “This was…“ 

He looked up, eyes scanning the desolate remains of his clan’s encampment. The bodies had long since been cleared away, buried properly under the instructions of the few scattered survivors who’d left in search of other clans to take them in. None of them wanted to remain, surrounded by such ruin—of course not. Why did Eimhin ever think it’d be a good idea to come here?

“Did you know them?”

Dorian’s voice was so quiet Eimhin had to strain to hear it amongst his thoughts. A quick glance showed him Sera’s expression had morphed from annoyance to something much more somber in only seconds, and Eimhin didn’t even want to imagine what Bull looked like.

“I did,” said Eimhin. His voice had grown even tighter as he strained to keep it from wavering. “Of course I did. She was— When I was in the human village, she was with me, an’... We were tradin’ skins, ‘cause we needed more flour and things, so– so when I—“ Eimhin took a deep breath, trying to stem the panic rising up in his chest and the tears he felt pricking at his eyes. “She tried to save me. An’ I couldn’t save her.”

“Kadan, this wasn’t your fault,” said Bull.

“It was,” said Eimhin. “Don’t fuckin’ try an’ tell me it wasn’t. If I chose better, this never would’ve happened. This shouldn’t—“ His voice cracked, and he took in a shuddering breath. Rather than turn into a blubbering mess in front of some of his closest companions, Eimhin hastily stowed the broken blade in his pouch and began to march in the quickest direction he could find that lead away from the encampment.

“You’re going?” Dorian called after him. “Amatus, Scout Harding let us know where the tree was planted. I thought you wanted to—“

“I wanna leave,” Eimhin snapped back. He refused to turn around, because the tears had already begun to fall. If he kept his distance, he knew his companions would too.

And surely enough, the three merely exchanged uneasy glances before falling into step behind Eimhin, leaving enough distance between them that they could feign ignorance over having heard his sobs.

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon���s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer​ 

[reidsnose]

love letters

overview: spencer has a wonderful idea after finding out that reader had never gone to her senior prom

genre: fluff fluff fluff

a/n: i mixed two ideas that have been sitting in my notes app for this lol but i think its sweet!! i wrote it a little rushed and definitely not bc im not getting a prom this year due to miss rona👀 LMAO but as always please lmk what yall think ab it :)

masterlist

-

the idea had fully occupied his thoughts the second after the words left your mouth.

it was "the buttcrack of dawn" as you had called it, though spirits were high on the late jet ride home. it was a rare but much needed positive end to the case, and everyone was happily chatting with each other. since the case was involving high schoolers, the subject fell on prom. everyone went around sharing their prom stories one by one, recalling awful dresses and questionable dates til the questions turned to spencer.

"what ab you, pretty boy, what was your prom like?" morgan asked, still smiling widely from recalling his own.

you watched spencer shift uncomfortably for a second.

"i uh..i never went to prom." he stammered, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"no! you just dont wanna tell us!" prentiss cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"i graduated high school when i was 12! why would i have gone to prom?" he reasoned.

"you had to have gone when you were older or something! everyone has!" jj countered.

"thats not true, i never went to prom either," you defended, subconsciously inching closer to spencer.

before anyone could even ask you to explain why, spencer got the idea. he mentally left the conversation after you gave your answer. he spent the whole rest of the ride home and the next couple of weeks brain storming and planning.

and casually after work one day, as he was walking you to your car, he asked you if you wanted to hang out with him that weekend; at his house.

you and Spencer had hung out before, but mostly at your house or at coffee shops; he didn't invite people over very often.

of course you agreed but you grew confused when he told you to dress fancy.

you raced home afterwards to raid your closet, looking for any fancy dresses you may have stuffed in there.

spencer spent the whole day preparing his apartment. he put up streamers and balloons. he made a playlist of all your favorite songs. and then he rushed to get his clothes from the cleaners.

and when you knocked at his door the breath that left your lungs struggled to come back after he opened the door.

he stood in a gorgeous suit, different than he had ever worn to work. he rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the living room, revealing the adorable (albeit poorly made but its the thought that counts) decorations.

"um.. welcome to prom," he said, turning back to you, revealing a blushy smile.

he tried not to stare too much at you, but it was difficult. your eyes sparkled as you stepped inside and looked around. and the dress you were wearing fit you so gorgeously he truly couldnt take his eyes off of you.

"spencer, i..." you trailed off, enchanted by what he had done.

"sorry if it looks bad. or if you think its weird that i did this. i just thought cause neither of us went to prom maybe you wanted to have a little one with me? yeah now that i say it out loud maybe you hate it im sorr-" he rambled behind you.

you turned quickly to him as he got lost in his words, eyes glued to the floor. cutting him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him as tight as you could. you could feel the tension leave his body as he melted into the embrace, returning it gladly. he doesn't like to be touched by anyone really, except for you.

"i love it. thank you," you whispered, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

he has a spread of snacks lying out on the coffee table which he has mooved to the corner of the room to make space for a makeshift dancefloor.

he turns on the music and you two start talking and dancing and laughing. two fools with four left feet completely and obliviously in love. well, oblivious the the other anyway.

a slower song came on, an old one that you had wanted to slow dance to ever since you were a little girl. and somehow naturally you two came together, his hand dropped to your waist, the other delicately cradling your own. your other hand found its way up to his shoulder, feeling as though a magnet was pulling you two closer. and closer.

he looked absolutely stunning. the soft lights he had strung around the apartment sparkled like stars in his eyes; its was...dizzying, in the most incredible way.

unbeknownst to you, as you stared at the stars in his eyes he was looking at his whole world that he had been somehow lucky enough to hold in his arms.

he held his arm out, allowing you to spin and when he pulled you back both of your arms ended up wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist. you were less dancing now and more...hugging. with your head pressed to his chest, he hoped with all his might that you wouldn't be able to hear his hammering heart. you most definitely could, but it was calming to know he was as nervous as you were. you smiled, listening more to his heart than the music he had played for you.

you were both sure that you could burst from pure bliss. the song ended a little too quickly for either of your liking and reluctantly you let go of each other. and suddenly Spencer was hit with the realization that he forgot something.

"oh my gosh," his eyes widened as he looked around the room.

"what?" you asked, mirroring him and looking as well.

"i can't remember where i left your corsage! i was gonna give it to you at the door but i forgot!" he exclaimed, running around the room checking shelves.

you smiled to yourself. he got you a corsage!

"ill help you look" you decided.

"please do," he chuckled.

"i thought you had an eidetic memory, shouldn't you know where you left it?" you joked, shooting him a smug smile.

"y/n, my brain was all jumbled to day and it wasn't just from being around you," he realized what he had said and quickly turned back to the shelf he was looking at, "could you check in my room please?"

his heart was racing at his own stupidity; how could he just say that so nonchalantly? he had been planning to tell you that he liked you for the longest time he cant afford slipping up and having it be anything less than perfect.

you slipped into his room, your cheeks warm from the idea that you make his big brain all jumbled. he probably didn't mean it like that, you were just looking too much into it.

you sighed as you crouched to look under his bed for it. you found a small wooden box that you slid out from underneath. it had your name on it.

is it normal to keep a corsage in a wooden box? you wouldn't know, you never went to prom.

you shrugged your shoulders, "i found it spence!"

with out thinking you opened the box, except instead of a band of flowers you were greeted with letters, all addressed to you. there were annotations written in the margins with purple ink. you furrowed your eyebrows as you scanned the various letters.

dear y/n,

today you complimented my glasses and my heart skipped a beat. thats dumb spencer dont start like that

dear y/n,

im in love with you. too forward

dear y/n,

you make life worth living. shes gonna think youre a creep

you felt a rush of euphoria fill your chest. did he really feel these things for you? your thoughts swirled in the most wonderful way. a wide smile broke across your face, butterflies running rampage through your stomach as you reread his words. his words addressed to you.

"oh thank God i really thought i lost-oh. oh no." spencer started as he walked through the door of his room immediately walking back out. you followed, blinking your watery eyes at him. "i can explain.

"i think youve explained enough, theres like 20 letters in here!" you chuckled, flipping through them.

"i didnt know how to tell you and i dont want to ruin what we already have and i-"

"it wasnt too forward." you stated, grabbing one of the letters.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"in this one," you held up the letter, "you wrote dear y/n, im in love with you. and then you crossed it out and wrote that it was too forward but i dont think it was."

"youre not mad?"

"mad? spencer ive been trying to admit the fact that im in love with you since i realized it myself, why would i be mad?"

"youre..you feel the same way?" he looked back up at you, a hesitant smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

"more so," you beamed, stepping closer.

he wrapped his arms around you, "thats good or else the rest of this prom would have sucked."

you chuckled, pulling him impossibly closer to you as another perfect song played.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru @sydneekomspacekru