#my day would be going perfectly normal and suddenly I'd remember things like this

[starsstardust]

Daily reminder that the first thing Achilles did after seeing Patroclus' body was to reach for his sword to slash his own throat. Yeah.

[slaaverin]

https://www.tumblr.com/slaaverin/774282776730025984/i-was-rewatching-the-jikook-2020-live-and-halfway?source=share

I didn't watch the live again because i know I'd not have any theory.

But since you mentioned jimin saying the call being "sudden" one thing i know about jimin is he doesn't like doing things suddenly. For example every jimin live he's done a year or two back has been planned for weeks in advance, he never goes live like impulsive thought he does things after thinking it thoroughly. despite being in maknae line jungkook and taehyung are kinda two who do things impulsively like if they feel like it they'll do it without much thinking too much the outcome like we know jungkook's all those late night lives. Jimin doesn't do that. He's very conscious of the things they say or do in front of fans so he might worry that someone will say things they shouldn't etc. That time when s/o asked him about dumpling fight he was like I'd have to talk with tae first (if i remember correctly that's what happened) because he doens't really gives too much details that shouldn't be said in front of fans. Compare the rainy day fight that jm described vs how jk described it and you'll see jm's story telling is surface level he doesn't go too much into detail whereas jk would tell with a bit more details.

As a jm biased let me say this that idol jimin is very conscious of things he presents, things he says, things he does. He doesn't like sudden things. I remember him saying to yoongi that "you can never beat me at being an idol" and that's true because idol jimin is a textbook idol. Everything perfect. He likes presenting it that way. Maybe that's why a sudden phone call made him feel a bit worried because he doesn't know what V might ask/say etc. he doens't like giving ppl reasons to talk negatively about them be it him as an individual or his friendship with any member.

I completely agree with your observations 👏🏻

Jimin is indeed very careful, level-headed, reasonable, and always thinks before doing things.

And it's perfectly understandable and yes he is a good idol.

But what can't help but sadden me a lot, is that part of the reason for it in my opinion comes from trauma.

It has not been always the case.

When he was younger, he was way more spontaneous and carefree.

I mean, people grow up of course, that's normal. But back then he had to put himself in a box, in a persona that didn't fit his true self. He got put down for who he was. There was a point where he was struggling with body image, and most likely self-esteem image. Also navigating the fact he was queer. You think of Lie, you think of Promise, Jimin told us he was having a hard time. I think he has been through a lot overall for real. He also has the habit of taking care of everyone around him, putting everyone above himself.

Not only that, Jimin got an insane amount of hate online, and since then he mostly disappeared from social media.

Being an idol had a great cost to Jimin and his journey has been far from ideal.

So the fact he feels the need to be perfect now, so careful of everything, I think it comes from fear more than anything else. Fear of being hurt again.

(Which, again, understandable.)

He grew up too fast, and gave himself many responsabilities that he still feel he needs to uphold today. He has a great sense of duty and a will to make everyone comfortable.

I think unkowingly he puts a lot of pressure on his own shoulders.

He is not the heart of BTS for nothing.

I admire his qualities, and I understand his reasons, and I want him to do what feels right.

But knowing all the hardships he has been through, and seeing the way he's trying to protect himself, you have no idea how sad it makes me.

Because he shouldn't have to. He shouldn't have to do this.

He should feel comfortable as an artist to be free and to express himself however he wishes, like Jungkook who doesn't give a fuck.

But no, Jimin cares. It's not the same and it never will be.

Because whatever Jimin does will be scrutinized, and everything will be held against him no matter what.

Jimin is the most hated member in this fandom. Also one of the most loved, weirdly.

But Jimin makes people react in such extreme ways, that if he's not careful he could unleash absolute hell upon himself.

And I find it so fucking unfair.

I don't want him to be perfect. I don't want him to try to uphold an impossible standard, all the time (how tiring that must be), I don't know, I just want him to be happy? And to be free? But is that even possible?

I don't think so given the circumstances.

I just want to hug him and tell him that none of it has been his fault and that he doesn't always have to be the responsible one.

And that makes me very glad that there is someone like Jungkook to take care of him, too. So he doesn't have to carry this incessant burden all the time. Sometimes he can drop it.

Jimin is such a beautiful and wonderful person. And it makes me so sad that he shines so much so that people feel the need to snuff that light out because it triggers them.

I hate that Jimin has suffered from it.

And I hate the consequences of that hurt which is the way he acts today.

(It's not that I hate the way he acts, I hate he had to suffer in the first place and adapt because of it)

Jimin 😭😭😭😭😭

If he can find his own path navigating things being careful and level-headed, good for him. I encourage him to do what he feels is best.

But it still sucks man idk

Why are people so mean? 😭 wouldn't it be cute if jimin allowed himself to be a bit frivolous sometimes? Unconsequential? Or at least have the freedom to choose to do so or not?

I feel like his choice has been stripped away from him and I hate it.

But I'm probably a drama queen so don't mind me lol

His last letter makes me wonder what he is thinking about his future, and him saying he wants to be more free can lead to a different approach. Time will tell.

I wish him the best 😭💜 I really love him so much and I hope he finds happiness and gets to live the way he wants to 🥺

[helloalycia]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐒 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍

summary: when you finally get through the toughest of winters with Katniss, glad you won't lose her, it's all for nothing because she volunteers for her sister in the Hunger Games.

warning/s: usual the hunger games warnings.

author's note: little late today but here’s the second and final part! was fun to write a katniss and i hope you all liked the ending 🥰

one / masterlist / wattpad

It was a few days later when I visited Katniss and found her sat in the living room for a change. I had to do a double take when I saw her, so used to seeing her be bed-bound. But no, she was sat on the couch in fresh clothes and looking freshly bathed. I was surprised, unable to do anything but stare until she beckoned me to join her.

"Sorry, but you just– you're up!" I said with amazement. "Katniss."

She smiled a little, nodding. "I am. I think this is the first time I can actually hold my own."

Hearing her say that made me relax instantly, my worry and concern fully disappearing. It was all I'd ever wanted. And she was already looking a lot better, the colour returning to her cheeks, the circles under her eyes disappearing, the migraines practically nonexistent. She was beginning to look like her old self again.

"Listen," she said suddenly, and I realised she was struggling to tell me something. "Whilst I was at my worst, you did a lot when I couldn't. And I just– thank you, Y/N."

"Of course," I said dismissively.

"No, you did way too much," she added, meeting my eyes. "More than you needed to. With looking after my family and with the medicine."

"I'd do it all again too," I said with a shrug, and the look she shot me made me take on a more serious approach. "I couldn't imagine losing you, Katniss. I wouldn't know what to do. You mean so much to me and I had to get you better. There was no other option."

She exhaled uncomfortably, looking down, and I winced at my declaration. Katniss was never one for talking about her feelings, let alone hearing other people gush about theirs. She was always too busy surviving, so she never had time for it.

"Sorry," I said. "I know you hate sappy stuff."

"No," she said quickly. "It's not that. It's–" She paused, looking up at me hesitantly. "The truth is, I thought I was gonna– I wasn't sure if I'd make it. It terrified me, not being able to move or do things or take care of my family. And Prim, poor Prim... I would have had to leave her. And you, I wouldn't have been able to say goodbye. Not properly."

"But it's not like that anymore," I reminded her, taking her hand and squeezing it.

My eyes were watering after hearing her say that, knowing she'd been thinking that and fearing death. Just the thought of losing Katniss for good had terrified me, but I'd never considered how she must have felt.

"It's not," she agreed.

I hugged her tightly. "No more goodbyes."

I felt her nod in my shoulder, arms wrapping around me comfortably.

Katniss was getting better every time I saw her, still resting and not leaving the house, but on the road to recovery. One day however, she surprised me at my house, a knock on the front door bringing me to her.

"Katniss," I breathed out, both surprised and amazed when I saw her standing there in the snow, dressed in her hunting gear and holding a bag. "You're looking well."

I hugged her, still trying to accept that she was stood in front of me. It was the first time all winter that she'd been well enough to leave the house, a sight I was scared I'd never see again.

"Yeah, I felt well enough to go out and try to get things back to normal," she admitted during the hug. "My mum approved it."

I smiled, looking at her again.

"It's for you," she said, suddenly remembering she was holding a bag, and holding it out to me. "A thank you, though it's nowhere near enough."

I cocked my head with confusion before looking in the bag. There were three dead rabbits inside, perfectly shot with precision.

"You didn't have to," I said, before adding when I saw her defensive expression, "but thank you. It's more than enough."

She exhaled, definitely wanting to disagree but leaving it. I stepped to the side to let her in, closing the door behind her and calling for my parents.

"Hey, mum, Katniss brought us some–"

"Oh, Katniss, dear, you're okay!" my mum exclaimed with relief, immediately pulling her in for a hug. "It's so good to see you out and about again."

Katniss flushed with embarrassment. "Thanks, Mrs Y/L/N."

My dad soon walked out from the spare room, smiling at Katniss when he saw her.

"You look as good as new, Katniss," he complimented, patting her on the back. "So good to see you looking well."

Katniss nodded appreciatively, and I handed my mum the bag.

"She brought us some rabbits," I told her.

"Oh, how kind of you," my mum said to her with a warm smile, before looking to my dad. "C'mon, hon, we should get this prepared."

"Thanks again for the rabbits, Katniss," my dad said appreciatively, before the two of them left us as they headed to the kitchen.

I tried not to laugh as I saw Katniss' expression. "Sorry, I know they're a bit much sometimes. They just care about you."

"No, it's fine," Katniss said with a wave of her hand. "It's sweet of them."

A smile curled on my lips as I watched her once more. Stood there in her dad's hunting jacket, the tip of her nose turned red from the cold, hair braided over her shoulder... she looked like the old Katniss. The one I'd so dearly missed.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing."

"Don't do that," she groaned. "I hate when you do that."

I sighed. "Okay, I guess I'm just happy that you're back to how you were. It's something I was scared I wouldn't see again."

"It's thanks to you," she reminded me, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

I rolled my eyes playfully, making her smile with amusement.

"Do you wanna stay for dinner?" I asked.

"I should head back," she admitted, heading to the front door again. "Mum's orders. Plus, that was all for you and your family. Enjoy it, please."

"Right, well take it easy," I told her lightheartedly, but meaning it. "Hunting again is good, but it's still dangerous. Especially whilst you're on the mend."

She gave me a sarcastic look. "Always."

I returned it with a knowing one. "Katniss. Seriously."

Gaze softening, she nodded. "I will. After everything that happened, I'm extra careful now. Promise."

I nodded, relieved to hear that, and watched as she didn't quite look away, seemingly stuck in thought. She swallowed hard, distracted, and I was about to ask what was on her mind, but she suddenly straightened up and cleared her throat.

"I'll see you later," she said, hugging me.

I smiled a little, squeezing her gently, before watching her leave.

When Reaping Day fell upon us, I truly didn't expect Prim to be chosen. If anything, my concerns were for Gale and Katniss, whose names were in there plenty of times. Even my own, after adding it in over the winter. But Prim wasn't in my thoughts because she was only in there once. So, how the hell did she get picked?

I should have known Katniss would volunteer in her place – she loved her sister the most in the world, it was inevitable. But it also meant that I was at risk of losing her again, just like in winter. But no medicine could save her this time.

After I watched Katniss walk on that stage, everything happened so quickly. The boy, Peeta, getting picked as the boy tribute, the ceremony ending and Gale yanking me with him to support Prim and her mum. We were all scheduled to say our goodbyes to Katniss, only having a short amount of time with her.

Her family went first, having the longest time to say their goodbyes, and then it was Gale. During this time, I was trying to get over myself and think about what I would say to her, how I could help her this one last time. But nothing was springing to mind except the tears to my eyes, and I was struggling to see beyond the obvious: Katniss might never return.

Once Gale returned with the guard of a peacekeeper, I saw how he tried to hide his tears and was reminded of my own. I knew I couldn't cry in front of her. It wasn't fair and she needed hope, not a blubbering mess.

The same peacekeeper who was with Gale led me up some stairs in the Justice Building and stopped before a set of double doors, further guarded by two more peacekeepers.

"You have five minutes," one told me, and I raised my brows with disbelief.

"But that's not even–"

"Five minutes," he repeated firmly, before the doors opened and I was forced to obey.

I walked in, eyes immediately searching for Katniss, and then I saw her by the sofa, pacing. When she saw me, my plan to not cry immediately flew out the window because she'd already beaten me to it. Tears pricked my eyes as we immediately pulled each other into a hug, saying nothing. I could feel the wetness of her tears soaking my shirt, but I didn't care.

We stayed like that for two minutes, no doubt eating away into our time, but we both needed it desperately.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, pulling back and holding her at arm's length. "I wish it wasn't like this."

She swallowed thickly, meeting my eyes, and I tried to memorise every part of her face, just in case – like I would ever forget it anyway.

"Gale has probably given you all sorts of advice, but–"

"Listen," she cut me off, voice hoarse.

"What?"

As if coming to her senses, she sucked up a breath and wiped her tears away. "Don't take any tesserae, okay? Never."

Already, I was lost. "Katniss–"

"You have enough food," she snapped, the seconds ticking away and agitating her. "Gale is covering for Prim, so you won't need to spare any for her. She's also got her goat. She can sell cheese and–"

"Katniss–" I tried to cut off her rambling, but she grabbed my shoulders and squeezed them.

"Promise me!" she pleaded. "Now, Y/N!"

Sensing the desperation in her voice, I nodded. "Okay, I promise."

Her grip loosened. "Please keep walking Prim to and from school for me. Be there for her when I can't be. She's gonna need someone–"

"I will," I reassured her, grabbing her hands from my shoulders and earning her attention. "You know I will."

She pressed her lips together, nodding appreciatively before hugging me again. I rubbed her back comfortingly, though my heart was aching in my chest.

"You could win," I said into her shoulder. "You're the best hunter I know."

She shook her head defeatedly, so I pulled back to face her properly, afraid to let go of her hands.

"Try," I begged, eyes tearing up. "Please. No more goodbyes, remember?"

"I'll try," she agreed reluctantly, "but if I'm not back–"

"Don't say that."

She frowned, a tear slipping from her eyes as she looked between mine. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too," I said, kissing her hand. "I always will."

"No," she shook her head, "I'm in love with you."

With all the heightened emotions and fear of losing her, it took me a moment to acknowledge what she'd said. My eyebrows knitted together, and when I saw her blue eyes darkened with sadness, staring at me, I realised.

"What?"

The doors to the room slammed open suddenly, startling both Katniss and I, and then the peacekeeper approached me.

"Time's up," he stated, but my grip on Katniss' hands tightened.

"Wait, please, just wait," I begged him, before looking to Katniss. "Katniss–"

"Now!" the peacekeeper ordered, grabbing me by the shoulders and yanking me back, out of Katniss' grasp.

"Just one more minute!" Katniss shouted, but another peacekeeper came in and blocked her from doing anything.

It happened too quickly, the peacekeeper dragging me out and the doors closing behind me. I didn't even get to see Katniss one last time, her voice being cut off as the doors slammed shut. My head was reeling as they forced me downstairs and outside, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Katniss was in love with me? Since when? Why had she never told me before? Why did she wait until now?

During the Games, Gale and I did our best to be there for Prim and her mum. One of us would keep Prim company whilst her mum worked, either spending time at hers or inviting her to ours. After dinner, I'd always stop by to make sure they were both okay, and I'd watch as much of the Games as I could with them, knowing Prim needed the support.

The truth was though, I needed it too. It was difficult watching the screen, seeing my best friend paraded around the Capitol for entertainment. And when the Games actually began, it was even worse. I didn't want to watch, but I had to know how Katniss was doing, for a part of me still believed she could win.

Her words still rang in my mind, her declaration of love, if you could even call it that. I replayed the moment over and over, hating that she couldn't have said it sooner. Despising that I didn't say it back.

The star-crossed lovers of District 12 were thrown in the viewer's face every chance the Capitol got, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Nobody was. Anyone with eyes could see that Peeta was truly and wholly in love with Katniss. I especially saw it, because I recognised it instantly, in myself. But Katniss never gave anything away, and even after all this time, as someone who knew her eerily well, I couldn't tell what she was feeling.

Of course, she led everyone to believe she loved him too, and as soon as a small part of me cringed with jealousy upon seeing them kiss, I immediately pushed it away. That was selfish of me, to be jealous when she was literally fighting for her life. I swore I'd never feel it again.

When the final moment of the Games arrived, both Peeta and Katniss were down to the final two and were going to eat the poisonous berries, ending it all. Prim gripped my hand so hard as we watched the screen, and I wanted so badly to shout at Katniss for even considering it. She had a chance to come home to her family and she was going to throw it away?

But deep down, I knew I could never understand. She wouldn't betray Peeta and she wasn't going to give the Capitol what they wanted. If this was it, her last moment, she was taking control. I shouldn't have expected anything less from Katniss Everdeen.

And then they announced the winners, the both of them, and it was the impossible finally happening. Prim, her mum, Gale and I – we were all in disbelief, then ecstatic that we were actually going to see her again, she was finally returning home!

A few days later, Gale and I were helping Prim and her mum prepare a welcome home meal for her, anticipating her arrival. Whilst Gale and I finished off the last bits such as setting the table, Prim and her mum went to collect Katniss from the train station. And I didn't realise how nervous I was until I almost knocked a glass off the table and Gale caught it.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked with concern, before offering me a small smile. "It's okay now, Y/N. She's finally home."

I swallowed hard, allowing myself to smile a little too. But he didn't know what our final exchange had been – I hadn't told anyone – and he couldn't know how much I was overthinking seeing her again. It didn't matter though, as the time to dwell on it was gone when the front door opened and revealed the Everdeens together again after all this time.

"...have a lovely meal prepared for you," Prim was saying as they walked in. "And Y/N and Gale are here too!"

Katniss smiled softly as her sister spoke excitedly, and then her eyes flickered up, scanning the room before they fell upon Gale and I with amazement.

"Hey, Catnip," Gale greeted with a boyish grin, before stepping forward to hug her.

She immediately wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly, and I tried not to overthink as I stepped forward too. Would we pretend nothing had been said and return to how we were? Was I supposed to bring it up? Was she?

The two of them pulled apart, talking, but I wasn't really listening as I got a better look at her. She looked different, like the version of Katniss I'd seen on the TV – the Capitol's version. They must have filmed her homecoming earlier as she was wearing Capitol clothes – a quality blouse and trousers – and her makeup was done, though not as extravagant as it had been in the interviews; no, it was much more natural, only accentuating what beauty she already had. Even her hair was different, left out and curled over her shoulders, pinned back with some expensive looking slides.

She was almost intimidating, but then hers and Gale's conversation ended, and her familiar blue eyes were on mine, and any preconceived notions I had didn't matter anymore because she was still Katniss, and she was back.

"Hey," I breathed out, smiling softly.

She returned my smile and we both hugged each other without another word. I swallowed hard as I closed my eyes, trying not to betray my fear as I clutched her tightly, but I was certain she could feel my shaking. Well, it was either me or her, because we were trembling.

"I see you kept your promise," I said once we pulled apart, and she seemed momentarily confused, so I added, "You tried. You won."

She exhaled in a way that was a stifled laugh without amusement. "Right. I suppose I did."

I had so much more to say, but none of it would escape my mouth. It didn't matter though, as Prim was calling us from the kitchen table and then we were both taking our seats and there was just no time right now.

It was a lovely evening, the four of us indulging on a treat from Greasy Sae, the district's resident cook who adored Katniss, and catching Katniss up on some developments she'd missed since she'd gone. Nobody brought up the Games for obvious reasons, but there was chatter of them all moving into the Victor's Village tomorrow.

It was a dedicated gated community in every district where victors of the Games and their families moved into following their win. The Everdeens were due to move tomorrow and Prim and Mrs Everdeen were excited to have somewhere with heating and hot water and everything District 12 dreamed of. Katniss, on the other hand, had nothing to say on the matter, and I could see the distant look in her eyes as they spoke. She wasn't too happy to move, it seemed. This place was her home, no matter what.

I hadn't realised how late it was, how long we'd sat talking after we ate, until Gale excused himself for the evening. I knew I should have gone too, but it felt wrong to leave their kitchen a mess when I'd eaten in it.

"Oh, Y/N, you really don't need to do that," Mrs Everdeen was saying as I began to stack the plates, bringing them to the kitchen sink basin.

"It won't take long," I assured her. "Please, let me do this and I'll be out of your hair." She was about to retort, but I nodded to Prim who was lying on her shoulder tiredly. "You should get her to bed."

Reluctantly, Mrs Everdeen gave in with a nod and led her youngest to her bedroom. I glanced at Katniss as I collected the glasses from the table she was still sat at.

"You must be tired too," I said, leaving the glasses in the sink.

She stood up, watching me closely. "I can't believe you're here."

I suppressed a smile. "I could say the same about you."

She wasn't amused by my joke, but distracted again. She'd been checked out for the latter end of dinner, but I'd put it down to tiredness. Clearly, I was mistaken.

"Katniss?"

I waited, raising an eyebrow, and then she kissed me hard. Her lips were soft, though her approach was desperate, and I found myself kissing her back, shivering as her hands settled on my waist. My back hit the edge of the kitchen table abruptly, and I was losing my breath in the urgency of it all, and then I had to pull away. She didn't let go of me as she caught her breath, eyes finding mine.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she murmured, and it was very unlike her.

Her breath tickled my lips as I asked, "Why didn't you?"

She clenched her jaw, shaking her head, the words not coming out.

My eyes drifted from her eyes to her flushed cheeks to her swollen lips. Nervously, I said, "I wasn't sure if–" An anxious pause. "After everything, when you told me you–"

"The thing with Peeta was an act for the Capitol," she explained suddenly.

That familiar jealousy, the one I'd worked so hard to never feel again, resurfaced and was soon replaced with guilt, especially upon seeing her expression. "You don't need to explain, Katniss."

She shook her head in disagreement, eyes meeting mine with a newfound confidence. "I know, but– I need you to know that I was only doing it to keep us both alive. And the whole time, I was thinking of you."

I was surprised at her boldness, her honesty and ease of sharing her feelings. It was so unlike her, a maturity she'd grown in her time away.

"How long?" I asked, tilting my head. "Since when?"

"You remember last winter? When you stupidly used your tesserae to help me?"

My breath caught in my throat, the memory painful. I thought I'd lost her last winter.

"I couldn't lose you," she continued. "The irony was I ended up in the Games, but knowing you endangered yourself for me then, and that you could've been chosen... it made me realise how much you meant to me. More than a friend. And then the reaping happened and I volunteered and I knew it was my last chance to tell you. I didn't mean to put it all on you, but I needed you to know."

I breathed out slowly, digesting her words. I could see the nervousness in her expression, her patiently waiting for my response as she looked down. This must have been difficult for her to share, but it only warmed my heart more, knowing she'd done so for me.

"I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember," I finally admitted my own feelings, ones I thought I'd have to keep to myself forever.

She looked up at this, hopeful, and I began to smile through my tears. The fact that she was here, alive, and that she was telling me all I'd ever wanted to hear, was getting to me more than I realised.

"Come here," I said, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, and hugged her tightly. "I missed you so much, Katniss."

Her arms wrapped around my waist, head tucking into my shoulder, and I felt her lips move against my shirt as she said, "I missed you too."

[wordsarelife]

LOCKWOOD X READER, but they've been living together for years and one night, when the reader try's to go on a date with a different guy, lockwood gets all defensive and jealous and they both confess their feelings in the heat of a moment?

—the way i loved you

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: lockwood is protective of what is his and in his own definition, you belong to him

warnings: none really, some fighting but that's it

note: this works perfectly as a part two of you belong with me, so make sure to read that before reading, but honestly you could also read them apart for each other. its just a continuation of the story.

I had been a few weeks since the mission were you had to flirt with the man Sebastian Keen himself. luckily everything had gone according to plan and Lockwood had rescued you before you had to kiss the scumbag of a man. things between you and Lockwood had since returned back to normal. well as normal as they could be.

he hadn't said anything about calling himself your boyfriend then, so you hadn't either.

"how about that?" you asked Lucy, while you turned from side to side in the auburn coloured dress. it ended on the middle of your thighs and felt like a second skin.

"this is it" she nodded smiling fondly

"thanks Luce" you said while you took off the dress and switched back to your regular clothes, you'd have to take a shower before getting fully ready

suddenly there was a knock at the door right after you had put on your shirt. "yes?" you and Lucy called at the same time

"hey" Lockwood smiled, walking up the steps. you and Lucy had shared the attic ever since she came to live with you. you appreciated the company, it did felt so far away from the boys, you were glad that you weren't the only one in that old room anymore.

"could I talk to you for a second?" Lockwood asked you, you nodded, watching as Lucy excused herself and went down the stairs

"what's up?" you asked your best friend of two years. you had been the first to move into Lockwoods new founded agency. and for the longest time it had just been you two, then came George and finally Lucy. it was amazing for you, to finally have a girl on the team. you had noticed Lockwood getting jealous over all the time you spend with Lucy, you had fought a lot about that, and finally he had to agree that there were just some topics he couldn't really be helpful for you.

"I just-" he interrupted himself as he noticed the formal clothing on your bed "what's the dress for? you never wear them"

"oh" you turned around to look at the dress and shrugged "thought I'd try something new, I've got a date"

"a date?" Lockwoods features grew pale

"yes?" you raised your brows at the boy

"what?- why?-" he cleared his throat "I mean with who?"

"oh I don't think you know him" you shrugged "met him at the library. his name is tom"

"tom" Lockwood repeated like he was noticing a little bit of dirt under his shoe

"something wrong, Lockwood?" you asked and Lockwood shook his head quickly

"when are you going?"

"tonight. right after I showered"

"oh" he said "but tonight, tonight is this thing, don't you remember?"

"what thing?" you rolled your eyes, you were used to his antics by now. Lockwood was generally a very jealous person, he didn't like to share his friends and especially not you. first it had been with Lucy and now with every boy you would like. now that you thought about that.. he did act weird the last few weeks. it seemed like he was trying to give you what you would miss by not being in a relationship. maybe that way, he thought, you would just stay with him.

"uh, you know-" Lockwood trailed off, looking around the room and trying to find anything to say

"you can't be my compensation boyfriend for forever, Lockwood"

"your what?" he wondered, sitting down at the end of your bed so he could face you

"don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about" you groaned "some day you will have to share me with a boy. I will still be your best friend, but there will come other boys that are important to me too"

"why?" he asked

"huh?" the question confused you "oh Lockwood. because you can't be the only boy in my life forever. I want to fall in love"

"why can't you just fall in love with me then?"

your eyes grew big as you watched the boy you had known since your childhood. "come again?"

"sorry" he shrugged and stood up "that was stupid, i'm gonna leave"

"Anthony John Lockwood!" you called loudly and he froze "don't you walk away now"

he turned around slowly and you recognised his scared features. he knew it was over when you would use his full name.

"I didn't mean what I said, alright?" he stepped forward so he was half a foot away from you

"why?" you repeated his question from earlier, as your voices grew louder

"because you're right, I can't be the only boy in your life and I have to accept that"

"yeah, okay" you bellowed, stepping closer "but why did you say what you said?"

"I told you I didn't mean it"

"you never say things you don't mean, not now, not ever, you jerk"

"don't you call me a jerk.. you're .. you're a jerk as well"

"ahh, we're getting creative I see"

"I-i just don't think Tom would be the right fit for you, i'm concerned as a friend"

"you have never met the guy" you argued back

"yeah okay, but I know that you need someone that understands you, not some scumbag like Sebastian Keen or that Tom guy, you need someone that won't be nice to you all the time, you need someone who tells you the truth or someone who admits that auburn is absolutely not your colour"

"I'm not thinking about dating Sebastian Keen, Lockwood, this is getting a bit ridiculous"

"you know what I mean" he shrugged "you just need someone different"

"aha" you replied mockingly "someone like you or what?"

"believe it or not, but I have a personality outside of being your best friend"

"really? I'd like to meet him some day" you screamed back "hopefully he will be a bit more charming than the original"

"funny of you to say that" Lockwood said "like you want to spend time with anyone not living in this house"

"because you won't let me, Lockwood!" you screeched "you're so jealous, I nearly thought you were in love with me!"

"and what if I am?"

"what if you are? I don't know what then. suddenly you start saying things you don't mean and it leaves me all mixed up about my own feelings"

"your own feelings?"

"yeah it makes me think that I might be in love with you too"

"and what if you are?"

"yeah, what if I am?" you were still screaming at each other, heavy breaths hanging in the air after your last sentence. you were now staring at each other, the last few minutes had gone by in a bliss, you two only realising what you said

"I think I am in love with you" Lockwood exclaimed quickly, stepping forward so your noses were almost touching each other

"I think I am in love with you too"

your hand went to his neck and you captured his lips into a passionate kiss. his hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss.

you broke the kiss softly, leaning your forehead against his "I just want you as the only boy in my life" you muttered "okay, you and George" you added quickly

"yeah, i'd like that" Lockwood smiled "but I have to admit I lied"

you head went back and your face turned into one of betrayal "you lied?" you asked softly

"yeah" he laughed "auburn looks beautiful on you"

he giggled as he watched your face change to one of annoyance. you slapped his arm, before you laughed as well

"just kiss me again"

and he did just that

taglist:

@charmingpatronus @helpmelmao @galactidiot

[helsgcddess]

— VEILED SPARKS; vi

READ ON AO3 || PINTEREST BOARD

summary: "You should be more careful about what you draw, Toria." In which an artist with a knack for seeing things she shouldn't meets a suspiciously perfect stranger with glowing blue eyes and a possessive yellow Camaro. Set during ROTF.

pairing: bumblebee/original character

word count: 3.7k

a/n— okay so this chapter was supposed to be just stoned jayde and toria making fun of bee's stalking but then?? the phone call scene happened?? and suddenly we're here with possessive flirting and ominous warnings and honestly? i regret nothing! also yes, bee really said "i'm going to order you sushi and critique your plant care while watching your apartment" and we love that energy for him. homeboy's trying SO hard to be subtle and failing spectacularly.

warnings — weed use, stalking but make it romantic?, possessive behavior, symbols getting creepy, red lights being sus

I woke up groggy, last night's conversation with Brooks playing on repeat in my head like a fever dream. Still in yesterday's uniform, I grabbed my phone—no new texts. The radio silence from my cryptic stalker was almost louder than his usual messages. Maybe he was waiting for me to text first, though what I'd even say was beyond me. "Thanks for following me home and being weird about my dead dad's secrets"?

After a shower that didn't quite wash away the lingering unease, I remembered it was my day off. The Chevelle's keys caught my eye, tempting me with the promise of an escape drive. But what if it broke down again? Would Brooks materialize in his too-perfect way, ready to save the day?

"You know he would," I muttered to myself, cringing at how quickly that thought came. I started my coffee—two shots of espresso because apparently that's the kind of day this was going to be—and headed for the balcony. The familiar ritual of lighting a cigarette and settling into my hammock chair felt almost normal.

Almost.

The morning fog was rolling in from the bay, thick enough to blur the edges of buildings into something dreamlike. Kind of like Brooks' edges sometimes, I thought, then immediately took a long drag of my cigarette to shut that line of thinking down.

My sketchbook lay innocently on the little balcony table, and I pointedly didn't look at whatever I might have drawn in my sleep. Instead, I watched the street below, definitely not searching for yellow cars or impossibly perfect men.

A message from Jayde lit up my phone: yo bitch how'd last night go??? 👀 did government boyfriend show up???

I typed back one-handed, ash from my cigarette falling into my coffee: It's complicated. Like, really complicated. Also he might be stalking me but in a hot way???

Her response was immediate: GIRL WHAT

Movement caught my eye—a flash of yellow through the fog that definitely wasn't going to make me paranoid all day.

Jayde was already calling. I answered with a groan.

"Okay, spill everything right now," she demanded, the sound of her bong bubbling in the background. "What do you mean 'stalking you in a hot way'?"

"He followed me home last night," I said, watching another maybe-yellow shape disappear into the fog. "In his stupidly perfect car. Then I accidentally called him and word-vomited about Mission City and now I'm pretty sure he's still out there somewhere being all... cryptic and protective."

"That's either really romantic or really serial killer-y." A pause. "Did you draw him again?"

I finally looked down at my sketchbook, flipping it open to last night's sleep-drawings. "Not... exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I apparently spent my night drawing weird symbols that I definitely saw in my dreams but somehow perfectly recreated on paper?" I stared at the angular marks, so similar to the ones Dad used to sketch. "That's normal, right? Totally normal sleep behavior?"

"Oh honey," Jayde said, "nothing about this is normal. Want me to come over? We can smoke and try to decode your weird dream symbols."

Another flash of yellow through the fog. "Yeah," I said slowly. "Yeah, that might be good."

Before I could hang up, my phone buzzed with a text.

Unknown Number: Have to leave town. Important matter to handle. Unknown Number: Don't go anywhere I can't find you.

"Oh my god, did he just—" I switched back to Jayde. "He literally just sent me the most possessive 'don't move' text."

"READ IT TO ME," she practically screamed through the phone.

"'Don't go anywhere I can't find you,'" I quoted, watching the yellow Camaro finally emerge from the fog long enough to confirm it was him, then disappear down the street. "Like I'm his to keep track of or something."

"I'm bringing the good weed," Jayde declared. "And my conspiracy theory notebook. Be there in twenty."

I finished my cigarette, starting a new cup of coffee as I waited. The fog was thick enough now to hide anything—or anyone—watching from the street. But for the first time since yesterday, that weight of being observed lifted slightly.

My phone buzzed one more time. Unknown Number: You're safer when I can see you. Unknown Number: Stay close to home. Please.

"Wow," I muttered, torn between unease and something else I didn't want to examine. "Someone's got control issues."

Twenty minutes turned into thirty, but Jayde finally burst through my door in her usual chaotic glory—oversized tie-dye shirt, paint-stained jeans, and a backpack that definitely smelled like her "special occasion" weed.

"Okay bitch," she announced, dropping onto my couch and immediately pulling out her supplies. "Show me these possessive texts and weird sleep symbols. Also, why does it smell like you've been chain-smoking since dawn?"

"Because I have been," I admitted, grabbing my sketchbook and phone. "Turns out having a hot maybe-government agent send you stalker texts is kind of stressful."

"Let me see, let me see!" She made grabby hands at my phone while packing her favorite bowl—the one we'd painted with little stars during finals week. "Oh my god," she breathed, reading the texts. "'Don't go anywhere I can't find you'? 'You're safer when I can see you'? Girl, he's either going to murder you or marry you. There's no in-between."

"Thanks, that's super helpful." I sank next to her on the couch, flipping open my sketchbook to last night's symbols. "Can we focus on the fact that I'm apparently sleep-drawing classified government codes?"

Jayde lit the bowl, took a hit, and peered at my drawings. "These look like the shit you used to doodle in art history. You know, after your dad..."

"After my dad died, yeah." I accepted the bowl, taking a long hit. "He used to draw these exact same symbols in his notes. I used to think he was just... I don't know, doing engineer doodles or whatever. But then Sam—the twitchy kid from the café—he was talking about seeing symbols too."

"Okay, wait." Jayde grabbed her conspiracy notebook, the one she'd started keeping after Mission City. "So we've got: your dad drawing weird symbols, random café kid seeing same symbols, you sleep-drawing said symbols, and hot government guy who's weirdly possessive about keeping you safe." She looked up, eyes already getting red. "Also his equally hot friend who kept grinning like he knew something. What was his name again?"

"Sean," I said, taking another hit. "And yeah, when you lay it all out like that, it sounds..."

"Completely fucked?" She grinned. "Also, can we talk about how Brooks texts you like he owns you? Because that's either terrifying or really hot and I can't decide which."

I pulled out my phone, rereading his messages. "Both? Definitely both. Like, who just tells someone 'don't go anywhere I can't find you' unless they're either a serial killer or—"

"Or totally obsessed with you," Jayde finished. "Which, based on your sketches of him, might not be a bad thing. Boy looks like he walked out of a government experiment on how to make the perfect man."

"Maybe that's what he is," I mused, smoke curling around my words. "Some kind of government experiment gone too perfect. Would explain the way he moves, and those eyes, and—" My phone buzzed, making us both jump.

Unknown Number: Your friend's theories are interesting. Unknown Number: But not as interesting as your drawings of me.

"Oh my GOD," Jayde wheezed, reading over my shoulder. "He can hear us? That's some next-level stalking."

"He can't—" Another buzz.

Unknown Number: Tell Jayde I respectfully disagree with the government experiment theory. Unknown Number: The truth is much more complicated. Unknown Number: And Toria? You missed some details in those sketches. My eyes glow brighter when I'm concerned about your safety.

"Okay," I said, putting my phone face-down and grabbing the bowl again. "Either we're way too high, or..."

"Or your possessive not-boyfriend has the whole place bugged," Jayde finished, looking way too delighted about this development. "Quick, say something about how hot he is again. See if he responds."

"I am not giving him the satisfaction," I said, immediately taking another hit. "He's already got enough of an ego about being impossibly perfect without us—"

My phone buzzed again. Jayde dove for it before I could stop her.

"'Your artistic attention to detail is flattering,'" she read, cackling. "'Though you seem particularly focused on my eyes.' OH MY GOD."

"Stop encouraging him!" But I was laughing too, the weed making everything feel simultaneously more ridiculous and more significant. "This is exactly why I have trust issues. Hot government guys just... listening to me talk about how hot they are."

"While protecting you from mysterious dangers," Jayde added, flipping through my sketchbook. "In a very expensive car that's probably also watching us right now."

As if on cue, an engine rumbled somewhere in the fog outside.

"That better not be—" I scrambled to the window, but the street was empty. Just fog and the distant sound of what might have been an amused engine.

My phone lit up again.

Unknown Number: I told you to stay where I could find you. Unknown Number: I never said I'd stop watching.

"Okay," Jayde announced, grabbing the bowl again. "We need to make a list. Hot or Horrifying: The Brooks Edition."

"Okay," Jayde pulled out her conspiracy notebook again, already writing. "Column one: Hot. Column two: Horrifying. Go."

"This is ridiculous," I said, but the weed had other ideas. "Fine. Hot: literally his entire face. Horrifying: the fact that he's listening to us make this list right now."

My phone stayed suspiciously quiet.

"Hot," Jayde continued, writing furiously, "the way he looks at you like you're the only person in the room. Horrifying: the way he looks at you like you're the only person in the room."

"That's the same thing!"

"Exactly!" She gestured with her pen. "Everything about him is both hot and horrifying. Like how he texts you these super protective messages—"

"Possessive," I corrected.

"Same thing with him," she grinned. "Hot: he's literally engineered to be perfect. Horrifying: he's literally engineered to be perfect."

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Your analysis is entertaining. Unknown Number: Though "engineered" isn't quite the right word.

"Oh my god, he's critiquing our list," I groaned, falling back onto the couch. "What's next, gonna correct my sketches too?"

Unknown Number: Your sketches are perfect. Unknown Number: It's your safety measures that need work.

I snorted smoke through my nose, making Jayde cackle. "Okay seriously," she called out to my apparently bugged apartment, "how are you hearing us? Did you like, plant cameras? Got some super-secret military tech in here?"

My phone lit up almost immediately.

Unknown Number: I have my methods. Unknown Number: Also, Toria should probably water that plant on the balcony.

We both slowly turned to look at my dying succulent.

"That's not creepy at all," I muttered, taking another hit. "Just my maybe-government-experiment crush giving me plant care advice while somehow watching us make a Hot or Horrifying list about him."

"Hot: he cares about your plants," Jayde wrote dutifully. "Horrifying: he can see your plants."

"Can you at least tell us how you're doing this?" I asked the empty air, feeling only slightly ridiculous. "Because I'm either way too high or you've got some next-level surveillance going on."

Unknown Number: Both. Unknown Number: Also, you're running low on coffee.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," I called out, but I was fighting a smile.

Jayde was practically vibrating with delight. "This is the best thing that's ever happened. Your hot stalker is literally fact-checking our stoned conspiracy theories in real time."

"Hot:" Jayde announced, still writing, "he knows exactly what's happening in your apartment at all times. Horrifying: he knows exactly what's happening in your apartment at all times."

"You've got to stop listing the same thing for both columns," I laughed, then immediately sobered. "Wait. If he can see us right now, that means he saw me this morning when I was—"

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Your bedhead was charming. Unknown Number: As was the way you talk to your coffee maker.

"I DO NOT—" I started to protest, but Jayde was already howling with laughter.

"You totally do! You're always like 'come on baby, just one more cup' when it starts making weird noises!"

"I hate both of you," I muttered, sinking deeper into the couch. "This is bullying. I'm being bullied by my best friend and a surveillance expert with perfect hair."

Unknown Number: Your hair looks perfect even when you sleep-draw strange symbols.

"Okay, that's it!" I stood up, probably too quickly given how much we'd smoked. "Where are they? The cameras or bugs or whatever you're using to spy on me?"

Jayde joined in, wobbling to her feet. "Yeah! Show yourself, government boyfriend!"

The only response was the distant sound of an engine, somehow managing to sound amused.

"Okay," Jayde said, standing on my coffee table to examine the ceiling fan. "If I were a suspiciously perfect government agent, where would I hide my spy tech?"

The doorbell rang, making us both jump.

"Did you order food?" I asked, suddenly realizing how hungry I was.

"Nope." Jayde hopped down. "But I bet I know who did."

Sure enough, my phone lit up.

Unknown Number: You haven't eaten since your shift. Yesterday. Unknown Number: Two Philadelphia rolls, two tuna maki. Your usual order.

"How does he know my sushi order?" I whispered to Jayde as I approached the door.

"Better question," she stage-whispered back, "how did he know we'd get the munchies?"

The delivery guy looked supremely unimpressed with our poorly contained giggles. "Order for Toria?"

"Let me guess," I said, accepting the bag. "Already paid for?"

"Yeah, some guy called it in. Said to tell you to 'eat something other than coffee and cigarettes.'"

My phone buzzed as I closed the door.

Unknown Number: The wasabi's spicier than you're used to. Unknown Number: But you'll like it.

"Okay," Jayde said, already grabbing chopsticks. "Hot: he feeds you. Horrifying: he knows your exact sushi preferences."

An hour later, we'd demolished the sushi (Brooks was right about the wasabi), done several dabs, and completely failed to find any surveillance equipment despite Jayde's increasingly creative theories about nanobots in my houseplants.

"I should go," Jayde said, gathering her things. "Got that commission deadline tomorrow." She paused at the door. "Unless you want me to stay? In case your perfect stalker decides to make an appearance?"

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: She should take a Lyft. Unknown Number: The fog's getting worse.

"See?" I showed her the text. "He's even worried about your safe travel now."

"Aww," Jayde cooed at my ceiling. "Thanks, government boyfriend! Way to look out for the best friend."

Unknown Number: The Lyft is already outside. Unknown Number: Black Honda Civic. Driver's name is Mike.

"Okay, that's actually kind of impressive," Jayde admitted, peeking out my window. "And yeah, there's Mike in his Honda. Your boy's got style, I'll give him that."

After she left, I flopped back onto my couch, still pleasantly high and full of sushi. "You know," I said to my apparently surveilled apartment, "this would be really creepy if you weren't so..."

Unknown Number: So?

"So... you," I finished lamely, then sat up straighter. "Okay, real talk time. Now that Jayde's gone and I'm just high enough to ask - is my apartment actually bugged? Because I've been looking all day and either you've got some next-level tech or..."

My phone buzzed, but this time felt different. More serious somehow.

Unknown Number: No bugs. Unknown Number: No cameras. Unknown Number: Just me.

"That's not cryptic at all," I muttered, twisting my ring. "What does that even mean, 'just you'? Are you some kind of super-advanced AI? Government experiment? Alien?"

A pause, longer than usual, then:

Unknown Number: Would it scare you if I said yes? Unknown Number: To any of those?

I stared at my phone, heart pounding. "I mean, I'm already talking to my empty apartment and drawing classified symbols in my sleep, so..." I laughed, only slightly hysterical. "Honestly? I'm more concerned about how you knew my exact sushi order."

The distant sound of an engine - familiar now - rumbled through the fog.

Unknown Number: I pay attention. Unknown Number: To everything about you.

"I pay attention he says," I muttered, heading to the balcony with my cigarettes. "Like that's not the most ominous way to say you're stalking me."

I'd barely lit up when my phone rang. Unknown Number.

For a moment, I just stared at it, smoke curling around my fingers. Then, because I was still high enough for this to seem like a good idea, I answered.

"You know," I said before he could speak, "most guys just ask for a girl's number instead of going full surveillance state."

"Most girls don't draw what you draw," his voice came through, carrying that mechanical undertone I'd noticed before. "Don't see what you see."

I took a long drag, watching the fog swallow the street below. "And what exactly do I see, Brooks? Besides impossible blue eyes and people who move like they're not quite human?"

"You see truth," he said softly. "Like your father did."

The cigarette shook slightly in my hand. "Is that why you're watching me? Because I see too much?"

"I'm watching you," and his voice dropped lower, more possessive, "because I can't seem to stop."

I leaned against the balcony railing, suddenly very aware of how exposed I was. "That's not really an answer."

"No," he agreed, that mechanical undertone humming stronger. "But you like that about me. The mystery. You keep drawing it, trying to capture what doesn't quite make sense."

"Are you—" I took another drag to steady myself. "Are you flirting with me about my drawings of you?"

A sound that might have been a laugh, might have been an engine purring. "I'm flirting with you about the way you see me. The way you can't stop seeing me." A pause, then softer, more intense: "The way you've filled pages trying to understand what I am."

"Jesus," I breathed, cigarette forgotten. "You really know how to make stalking sound romantic."

"Is it working?"

"Maybe," I admitted, blaming the weed and wasabi for my honesty. "Though it would work better if I could actually see you right now instead of just talking to fog."

"Look down," he said, and there it was—the yellow Camaro, emerging from the mist like a dream. His silhouette was barely visible through the window, but those impossible blue eyes caught the streetlight perfectly.

"Show off," I muttered, but I was smiling.

"Been there all day?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I lit another cigarette with slightly shaky hands.

"Not all day," he said, and I could hear that almost-smile in his voice. "Just since you started drawing me again this morning. After the…job I had to do.”

"That's—" I choked slightly on smoke. "How did you even know I was—"

"I told you," his voice dropped lower, making something in my chest flutter. "I pay attention to everything about you. The way you sketch when you're nervous. How you twist your ring when you're thinking about your father. The exact moment you realize I'm watching."

"Like right now?" I tried to joke, but my voice came out breathier than intended.

"Especially right now." A pause, then: "You're wearing my favorite sketch subject. That oversized Hawaiian shirt."

I glanced down at Dad's old shirt, the one I'd thrown on this morning. "Okay, that's either really sweet or really creepy."

"Both," he said simply. "Like most things about us."

"Us," I repeated, rolling the word around. "That's a pretty presumptuous word for someone who keeps disappearing into fog."

"And yet you keep drawing me when I'm gone," he countered smoothly. "Speaking of drawings..."

I glanced at my sketchbook, the pages of symbols practically glowing in the streetlight. "Want to tell me what these mean? Since you seem to know everything else about me."

"Toria..." A warning in his voice.

"No, look—" Before I could overthink it, I tossed the sketchbook over the balcony. It landed with a soft thud on the Camaro's hood.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"That was..." His voice had that mechanical edge again. "Reckless."

"Yeah, well," I took another drag, trying to hide how my hand shook. "So is stalking an artist with impulse control issues. What do they mean, Brooks?"

Through the fog, I saw his silhouette move. The sketchbook disappeared into the car.

"They mean," he finally said, voice impossibly soft, "that I might not be the only one watching you anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" My voice cracked slightly, but he was already starting the engine.

"Lock your doors tonight," he said, that possessive edge creeping back in. "And Toria? Next time, just invite me up instead of throwing things at my car."

Before I could respond, the Camaro melted back into the fog, taking my sketchbook with it. The line went dead, leaving me with just the taste of smoke and too many questions.

I headed back inside, double-checking the locks like he'd said. But as I turned away from the door, something caught my eye—a shadow moving wrong in the fog outside my window. Not yellow. Not Brooks.

My phone lit up one last time.

Unknown Number: Don't look out the window. Unknown Number: And don't answer if anyone knocks. Unknown Number: I'm coming back.

Through the glass, red lights glowed in the darkness.

[themomsandthecity]

Like Adele, I Felt Like Having a Baby Was Considered "Career Suicide"

We are fortunate to live in a time when women can have it all . . . right? A good career and a loving family is attainable. Yet one of the biggest woman stars in the world has said that when she got pregnant during the height of her fame, she feared she had committed "career suicide." Despite maternity leave protections and heightened conversations around the importance of working moms, highly successful women still fear the impact starting a family will have on their future in the workplace. During her speech at The Hollywood Reporter's annual Women in Entertainment Gala in December, Adele spoke about becoming pregnant with her son, Angelo, during the "pandemonium" that followed her second album, "21," in 2011. She said, "To many, that would be - and it was - considered career suicide." Adele's accolades since then of course speak for themselves (hello, Las Vegas residency, awards galore, and record-breaking album sales), but her sentiment is not unique. I am a mom of one - my daughter is now 13 months old - and as I read Adele's words, I feel a strange sense of familiarity. The day I found out I was pregnant, I was at work. I was producing a photo shoot in London, managing a big, celebrity-led project that I had been working on for weeks on end to make sure everything went perfectly. I was in my element, working in a fast-paced role that I had spent my entire life working toward. Honestly, I was thrilled. And for the next 12 weeks, I was in that little bubble of secrecy where no one knew I was expecting and work continued as normal. POPSUGAR Photography / Jenny Francis Eventually, I started to tell people, and that's when my mindset began to shift. After revealing our news, initial responses of "Oh, how lovely" would often be followed by: "What did your work say when you told them? How did work take it? How are you feeling about leaving work for a year?" Suddenly, my little baby bubble burst, and things became real. Instead of thinking about the fact that an era of motherhood was about to begin, I started thinking about how my career would end. What was my work going to say? What was a year of maternity leave going to do to my career? How was I going to stay relevant in a competitive industry with so many others willing to take over? I quickly began to panic. I started full-time employment back in my 20s, and I'd never for a moment taken time away from focusing on my career. I'd given everything to it, and now I was in a job I loved, yet here I was about to leave it for an entire year and risk it not being there in the same way when I returned. I would lie in bed at night worrying that people would forget me; that a younger, more excitable, not-about-to-get-pregnant-any-time-soon replacement would sweep in and take over and that I'd become uncool and irrelevant very quickly. I hated myself for thinking this. I was so excited to be a mom, so why didn't I feel more confident in myself? I remember telling my colleagues, and they were thrilled for me. If anything, they seemed unsurprised and unfazed by my news. But despite their support, I still felt like I couldn't take the year off I was entitled to. Less for financial reasons, and more for the sole reason that I needed to keep my foot in the door. I told them I'd probably return after nine months and that I would manage a large project for them while on maternity leave, hoping that by taking on work from home, I would stay relevant. And I did. Despite the fact that when my beautiful baby arrived I fully embraced that chaos that is motherhood, I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to dip into work. I planned the huge event during nap times and hosted it for three nights - the first three nights I had away from my baby - while breastfeeding, which meant a lot of pumping breastmilk in the toilet as I posted Instagram footage with my spare hand. It was that event, however, that made me stop and realize that having a baby… https://www.popsugar.com/family/adele-career-motherhood-balance-opinion-49332779?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[kaerimichirami]

帰り道 / kaerimichi　[PT 1]

It was raining a lot the day my parents brought me home for the first time, three days after the Friday I was born. I won't lie and say I think about it every time it rains, but occasionally, when it touches my shoulder, I remember I'm human. It slowly takes me back to many thoughts, and it eases the pain as much as it punches me again. So many things bring me to this state. A really good book. Tasty matcha latte. Air conditioning. Sometimes, a movie or a song. There's this type of melody... I, despite loving music having an extremely untrained ear, can't explain what or why, but this certain tune brings me back to myself. As if I forgot, somehow, that I exist. That I am. That I go and I come back. That I was born, and that I breathe, heavily or lightly. That I get goosebumps and that I feel the wind or the burning sun. When the raindrops touch my exposed skin or my scalp, or even when they fall directly into my glasses' lenses, and I'm suddenly unable to cross the street without wiping it off, I remember about myself. How do I even forget about it? I don't know. But I come back to my senses every two weeks or so. And I'm born again, and I'm brought home again, and I'm taking baby steps every two Mondays.

Doctors and experts will name it in various ways. And they'll shove pills down my throat. And I'll be, "Oh, I feel emptier now. Thank you, Sir." and then cry after the appointment because it is just so embarrassing that they've once again said I need to lose weight. But I could say it is so much more about others than about me. When I go back to my childhood or my teenage, and God forbid, because I'm only in my early twenties, I can point every single cause. They have many different names and appearances, different voices and talking styles, but I remember them oh-so perfectly, and I am somehow a result of their experiments. For years and even now, I've wondered if I'm, in fact, not human, but one of those bags boxers use to practice. Due to being this short, I think I'd be a punching pouch, rather than a full bag. But I'm there, hanging from the ceiling, and they go back home feeling less angry.

That anger, oh, it started growing inside of me. Sometimes it doesn't show, and I've spent so much time and money fixing it. But it comes, again, occasionally, and I'm met with myself again. In the mirror, I see someone that has been called a freak so many times. I still have this silly habit of covering both my sides with my hands, just to make my figure a little less jiggly and weird. But the stretch marks, my chest that isn't neither flat, nor perfectly positioned (it's a little down, frowning), and if I turn to my side I see my profile view, that sometimes makes me laugh. It's so... silly, I guess. My breasts fall, but my butt is up. Wearing any kind of pants, panties, shorts, and even dresses, is quite a challenge. It just doesn't stay in place. Also, it's troublesome to sit comfortably with this natural pillow. And it's not necessarily pretty, just so big that it's kind of off-putting. Not to talk about my womanhood, which I'd prefer to not have. If I could have been born without anything down there, but still being able to function normally, I guess I would be happier. And the legs I don't shave unless it's been over half a year, with knees that sometimes don't function properly and feet that are so tiny and still child-like, that weirdly, I can crack the bone of one foot, but not the other. And they hurt when I walk too much. If I go up again, my hair is so messy. It was supposed to be curly, but I did something wrong, and now it pretends to be straight like I did as a whole during my formative years. No, I guess I still am not out to many people. Haaa. I still do pretend. There are bags under my eyes that are quite pretty, actually, but just... eyes... My eyebrows are quite thick, and I don't mind it. I like flickering my eyelashes when I want to fall asleep, and, honestly, mascara makes me feel heavy. My ears, nothing to talk about them, but they hurt after wearing glasses + headphones all day. My nose is quite big, and I don't mind the size, but I feel embarrassed about the blackheads. My mouth is kinda cute, sometimes it looks like a little heart and my lips aren't extremely plump, but also not the thinnest thing. I kinda like it, but no matter what I do, lipstick never stays on. I think my lips are too moist. My teeth are quite wonky, my bite is not that perfect. I still haven't been able to have my wisdom teeth grow, and there's a lot of space between some teeth for them. I'm just waiting. My skin is rather pink than white, and honestly I feel like a little pig sometimes. Can't help but think otherwise. I mean it in a cute way, but I notice my own sadness and tone. I learned to be mean to myself in many ways. My hands are as small as my feet... the rest functions well, but it's big. Belly, forearms... just... too big. I'm not pretty, I think. Maybe my face. And maybe I'm cute, like a kid. But not an adult-like cute.

There's also the allergies. My skin can't take much, so it doesn't matter if it's pretty or not: it does not function. They say it's due to stress and, honestly? I get it. It is stressful. Still, there's something about your own body. It takes you to places. Most of the time. It breathes, it pumps blood, it eats, digests food and then expels the rest. It sleeps. And, well, as sick as my depressed, bipolar and obsessive-compulsive brain is, my creativity is there, right? Deeeeeeep there, it's a fun place. But, overall, I'd get the worst ratings. I don't stand out in a good way, and I don't have money or will to buy stylish clothes. Although I have quite some etiquette, I'm forever going to be an outsider, so the way I speak and the way I act is always going to be a downside to many.

Now, I could change. I could deprive myself of the few things that make me happy: eating and laying down. I could learn how to speak in another accent, and I could become a fascinating person. Like, it isn't impossible. I could even get my face done, and look different. No puffy, childish, rosy cheeks that hide my eyes when I smile. I could put make-up on, wear body cream, and my elbows and my feet wouldn't feel so rough to the touch. I could even smile more, be nicer or meaner, I could enjoy Christmas and I could call my grandma more. I could quit this graduation and start doing something with math or science, and I could have other political views, and I could not be who I am, entirely. And I still know, for a fact, that I would be a punching bag. A punchable face, a punchable heart, a punchable body. I'm the bearer of this. I'm a hoarder of problems that aren't even mine. But if you look at me, you'll feel this need to treat me so unwell. And as I, from an early age, felt the need to mirror others, I started doing the same. I looked at myself and I punched all I was, both figuratively and literally. And I'm brought back to that rainy day. And I'm brought back to every bullying session, and to every argument, and to every mean word, and to every objectification, and to every uneasy and unsafe moment. But, today, I want to go back home for once. To where I belong. Whatever or wherever it is. I need to take myself there. I recall a few of the houses I’ve lived in. There was this one next to my grandmother’s house, that doesn’t exist anymore. The apartment where I had my first pet (that hated me). My grandma’s house. That two-story house. The one I was friends with the landlord’s granddaughter… there were others, my mother tells me, but I don’t recall them. My whole life, I studied in three different schools. Some worse than others, but none were great experiences. And after I moved, only one University and two workplaces. I’ve been to various churches, and many other places, despite living for about 17 years of my life in a small town. Still, I never belong to any of these houses, schools, churches or communities. I’ve always been just me, with people unable to explain much about me, and the adjectives being quite lost in space. Fluttering, even. It’s not the case that I’ve found a place yet, thus I can’t tell you with a smile that “Now I belong”. Despite finally having friends, it’s nothing like a family (to which I also don’t belong to). I’m not dating nor do I have children, no pets, maybe a few collections here and there, but nothing that you can touch for too long, nothing that isn’t boring after a while, nothing to cry on, nothing to sleep with (in the most innocent way), nothing to hug, nothing to cook or shop for, nothing to care after. Nothing that needs me to live. No home to go back to, no home. Of course, houseless I’m not, thankfully, but home… maybe my room feels a little comfortable, but there’s the cleaning OCD. My skin doesn’t feel mine, my brain and my heart don’t relate to each other, my image isn’t my imagination – I am, but who am I?

I’d love to have someone to answer all of my worries. But I’ve tried therapy and as much as it doesn’t harm me, it doesn’t fulfill this need. Someone who’s going to look at me, inside and outside, and will tell what’s wrong, what’s right, what’s bad, what’s good, what and how I can change. And yet, I don’t know if I’ll accept it. Maybe it’s good that I don’t know. Well, I have my suppositions, but I don’t wish to believe them forever. Deep inside, I want to go home, to myself. I think about it quite often. When I’m shopping, when I’m eating, when I’m leisurely watching TV, when I take breaks from work. I wish I had myself more. Rely on me. Trust me. Love me. I get caught up on that. I try to think why it’s such a chore to consider myself worthy of my own affection, and yet it doesn’t make sense, whatever I come up with. Every six months I’ll have a huge breakdown and say “I’ll love myself this time!”, but in two days I’ll be mean to myself once again and care so deeply about every little mistake.

— Heeeey, Lily. — Oh, they were calling. I got a bachelor’s degree in Japanese, thinking I’d be able to become a full time translator, but I ended up becoming a full time teacher and part-time translator instead. I mean, I still have time to make my name, but the bills keep coming. The school I work at is, well, troubled. I don’t like the people that much, but I like teaching. No. I’m good at teaching. And being good makes me happy. I don’t thoroughly enjoy it. It’s my ego. I don’t belong here either, I’m not like my coworkers. But I have to be here, kind of. — Are you listening?

— Huh? Uh, yeah.

— So, answer it?

— Answer what?

— God, you never listen! — I don’t get why you need to talk during lunch break when you already talk all day. — We were sayiiiiing, do you have a boyfriend?

— Yeah. — I learned to lie. No need to come out, just lie. When I was still in Uni, it was fine to say “I’m focusing on studying”, but after I graduated I learned people started worrying too much about me not being with someone. So I just made up a boyfriend, and then I show a photo of a random J-Idol, and they buy it.

— When did you meet him?

— Uni. Well, excuse me, I’ll go brush my teeth. — I didn’t want to participate anymore. They’d ask more questions, and I was afraid I would get lost in my own thread of lies. I wanted to die, honestly, whenever anyone talked to me. Well, the students were fine, but the rest was just borderline impossible to keep up with. After doing my hygiene, I went to the room where we keep all the materials and supplies, trying to avoid the teacher’s room. One of my students, one of the older ones, came to me.

— Senseiiiii, are you free tonight?

— Hmm… I don’t have any plans in particular, but…

— Then, wanna come sing at the karaoke with us?

— Well… — Honestly, I enjoyed singing. I wasn’t skilled, but I loved music a lot. Still, going out with other people bothered the hell out of me. You have to go where everyone wants to, you can’t eat messily, I need to hear others’ bad singing, I need to be adequate and people need to enjoy it. — sorry, I just remembered Tae-Sensei wants me to work on a project for the school.

— Oh… okay, but if you change your mind, please come with us!

— Will do. Thank you, Micchan. — I appreciated it, honestly, but I didn’t want to be a part of it. It always happens that they think I’m not enough, and then I try so hard that I bore myself out, and then I hate them. It’s better if I miss out.

The rest of the day went by easily. But, I felt like going to the karaoke, so I’ll probably do it next week. Singing is good to cleanse the soul and gives you excuses to stay home the other day. I stopped by at the convenience store to buy myself a drink and an ice cream, or anything else that made me a little happy that day. I was trying to reach for a particular product, when I dropped almost half of the shelf. A girl in uniform, who was just done putting it there, started laughing at me. I thought she would get mad…? But she was making fun of me, right?

— I-I’m really sorry.

— It’s okay. Sorry for laughing, today was boring.

— Y-yeah… it was. Do you need help with it?

— Nope. That’s my work, don’t worry.

— Sorry again.

— Don’t be.

— Right, I’m sorry. — She looked at me, confused, then I was also confused. — Sorry.

— Please stop apologizing. Don’t say “sorry” for it again.

— I want to say it. And I’m… I’m sorry for not being able to stop myself. Sorry. Again. Fuck! — It made her laugh again.

— Why don’t you buy some alcohol? You sound like you need to get wasted.

— I’ve tried, but I can’t. I’m too scared of what I might become. Also, I take medicine, so I can’t drink.

— Huh? Well, okay… have a good night, then.

— You too. — I hurried to the register. That was, uh, an odd interaction. I just can’t help but be myself, right? I’m such a mess, I think. I’m skilled, and I know lots of stuff, but I can’t stop being sorry for just existing. What a life.

I arrived at my apartment and heated up my leftovers. Maybe tomorrow I could order a pizza or something, or I could try cooking a nice meal. I wasn’t always a mess. When it came to myself and only myself, I knew how to deal with stuff. But when it involved others, I was either too much or not enough. I was never just right, and I was never happy, and I never made anyone happy.

I ate, took a shower and cleaned my stuff (OCD, again) with alcohol. Well, I guess I was an alcoholic in a way. I couldn’t live without my spray bottle with that cleaning solution. Then, I sat on my bed. That summer was being rough, and I had no other option but to be in my panties and a top, with my window slightly opened. I had no fan or AC, because, well, the last one broke, and I kept forgetting to buy a new one. That didn’t matter for long, because I saw on my phone that my favorite singer had posted new content, and I wanted to check it out. After I gulped it down, I started watching older stuff of hers, and then I proceeded to ignore messages from my family.

The last time I talked to my parents… it was quite a while ago. Well, we had so many arguments, honestly. It was so abusive, with the excuses “We love you”, and “We’re trying our best”, but always threatening to me. I grew tired, and although I struggled now and then, I could feed myself and pay rent on my own. So I stopped talking to them. I had blocked them, but now they would message me through other numbers. I blocked them all, but one day, I just stopped. I let it be. It felt like I wanted them to know I saw they were reaching for me, but that I was ignoring them — the exact same thing I’ve been through during all the times they’ve failed to protect me. Was I a terrible child? Definitely. But I had my reasons.

I sighed, and sighed, partially because of how hot it was. Tomorrow was Saturday, so I could be myself and be there for myself. In a sense, I could be mine and just mine. If I wanted to go out, I could go on my own, and if I wanted to stay home, I could go to the kitchen, living room, or to the bathroom and no one else would bother me as opposed to being locked inside my room. I doom scrolled until my eyes got watery and tired, and then I knew it was time to sleep. I went to the bathroom once again, drank some water, turned off the lights, but I let the window open. “Tomorrow, I’ll buy a fan”, I thought, knowing well I’d forget about it. Then, I lied down, stretched, flickered my eyelashes, breathed in and out, counted sheep, daydreamed, and only fell asleep when I turned to my side. I don’t recall my dreams. My Friday went like that, just as the past Fridays of the last two years, and how the next two years will go. Probably. Things might get worse, but will they ever get better?

I finally bought that fan, but it didn’t come with batteries. It was already vacations, so, yes, I took some time. I went out to buy some, and I saw myself going to that same convenience store again. I met that girl again — and, well, I had before, but we never talked again — and she always seemed to laugh at me. I wondered if it was my figure? My expression? It didn’t look like she was being mean, not even careless. It looked like she was having fun. I don't know if I envy her, or if I'm mad at her, or if I'm just slightly annoyed. I feel too much, and I feel it all at once. I think she's trying to be friendly, but I can bring myself to like or understand her. She's the one who works here, and I'm a clumsy customer, and she meets many clumsy customers, and I'll eventually go to many stores. Or just a few ones, it doesn't matter. In the end, this is how it feels. It's summer vacation now, I don't have to go to work, I barely have any friends, I don't want to spend time with my family, and it doesn't matter. It mattered for a long time, but now I don't care anymore. I wonder what or who was the breaking point. Maybe it was during high school. Maybe a little later. It wasn't just all at once, but I gradually started not caring. Sometimes I'll care. And I'll be sorry, like that day. But today, I don't care anymore. If she sees me as a terrible, useless person, or if she laughs at me, it doesn't matter. It might affect my respect at work if it goes further than this. But she's just a mere worker, and I'm another mere worker, from worlds that don't mix, though, and she doesn't even know my name. She knows I dropped a half a shelf of products on the ground, and she knows I apologized over and over, but she doesn't know the things my father said to me, and she doesn't know how they used to treat me when I was eight years old. We're strangers, and she thinks alcohol could help me, she doesn't even know I can't have it. She doesn't know me, I owe nothing to her, it doesn't matter, I don't care, she could die right now, and I wouldn't cry or be worried. Right? I think so. I don't know. I don't want her to die. If she died, it would be troublesome. I don't want her to die. But I won't mourn it. I won't think about it. Maybe once. Or twice. Or three times. But never four. And never for too long. It doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter, it does not matter. I swear to God it fucking doesn't matter to me anymore.

Tumblr doesn't allow me to post the rest here, so please read the rest through this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51663571/chapters/130600915

[ollieofthebeholder]

oh 29 for the fic wip please please please

Send me an ask about one of my WIPs to learn more!

So remember in the notes of Chapter 45 of leaves when I said I'd struggled with the chapter because I'd suddenly got the idea for a plot twist that would 100% break the pacing of the plot?

This was that plot twist. (Putting the rest under a Read More because it spoils the ending of leaves.)

Basically, when Melanie stabbed Jonah after JonMartin Prime went back in time, the plan was for the Keeper to throw her a door and get her out of the Institute safely. Unfortunately, she timed it exactly right - or exactly wrong, depending on how you look at it - and got caught in the tangle of the tethers as they snapped around Jonah and were dragged through the crack beneath Hill Top Road. Ironically, she managed the one thing Jon and Martin hadn't - to get the timing down so that she was still alive when the Fears went through - which means that, unlike with the Primes, there wasn't an extra copy of Melanie King wandering about. She went back into her life, her body, exactly as she was the day she went to the Institute for the second time in S2.

So yeah, in this AU (I can't believe I have an AU of my own fic, but here we are), the Melanie who turns up in Chapter 31 is the one from the future.

As a bonus, have her first interaction with Past Jon from her POV:

There’s nobody else in there. Two of the desks have laptops on them, both closed, and stacks of paperwork beside them. The trapdoor is exposed but not open. It’s all perfectly mundane and normal and Melanie hates all of it.

She strides over to the Archivist’s office. The door is firmly shut; politeness dictates that she ought to knock, but Jon hates people knocking on his door for reasons she’s never cared enough to learn, so instead, she just pulls open the door.

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” she asks.

Jon jumps backwards, obviously startled. He’s seated at his desk, recorder clutched in one hand. Evidently he was in the middle of recording a statement…or something…and she’s caught him off guard. He’s wearing the sweater she remembers him wearing more or less from the moment he came back from his coma to, well, the moment she quit, and she remembers, too, that it’s one of Martin’s that he accidentally left in the office when he took the job with Peter Lukas.

That’s a good sign. Maybe.

“Miss King—uh—how did you get in here?” Jon is trying to sound professional, but he actually sounds like he’s trying to get his heart rate under control.

“Sasha let me in.” Melanie steps all the way into the office and closes the door, just in case Elias is about, and studies Jon. She wants to ask if he’s from the future, if he remembers, but instead she asks, “Are you all right?”

“Hmm? Sorry?” Jon oh-so-casually closes the folder in front of him and slides it under the stack next to him. Like she’s not going to notice. She may not be tied to the Eye…yet…but whatever that statement is, it’s something he doesn’t want her to see.

There may be hope yet.

“You look like hell,” Melanie says. It’s how this conversation went the first time, but also, it’s true. Jon looks stressed, worry in his eyes he’s only barely concealing, and there’s a tension about him like a spring ready to snap. He’s gripping the tape recorder so hard his hand is trembling faintly. About the only good thing that can be said for him is that he looks like he’s got a few good meals in him, and he doesn’t have the extensive scarring she remembers from the last time she sat across of him in this office.

Something about that nags at the back of her mind, but it’s quickly drowned in the wave of emotion that hits her as she remembers the genuine compassion and devastation in Jon’s eyes when she asked him to call an ambulance for me in about five minutes, the way he’d actually hugged her tightly and almost made her reconsider her actions. How annoyed she’d been when he was the one to scream in agony when she did it, the way he’d cradled her and whispered I’m sorry over and over until she passed out from her own pain. Memories she’d apparently repressed, because goddammit, she still doesn’t like him.

“It’s been a rough few months,” Jon says, recalling her to the present, and she looks up at him, desperately searching for some sign that that’s a hint, that he’s signaling to her that he’s spent the last few months slogging through a post-apocalyptic hellscape. His eyes flick over her for a moment. “And if I look like hell, you must be in a far lower circle than I am. Are you all right?”

That’s not something she ever expected to hear from Jon, and she blinks at him, even as hope flares up again. It’s him, it’s him, he made it, they made it…“Fine. I—um—” She considers for a minute, then decides, best to be cautious. Maybe she can convince him to duck down to the tunnels. “I actually need your help.”

Jon’s eyes narrow, just slightly, and his voice goes flat and cynical. “Interesting.”

She still can’t read him. Time to try an experiment. Melanie snaps, and she isn’t entirely faking being annoyed. “All right, can you not be an arsehole about it? I just need access to your library.”

Her Jon, the Jon from her timeline, will refuse. If he thinks she’s the Melanie King from the past, then he’s aware of where this path will take her, aware of what will happen if he lets her look at those books, if he lets her go to India. He’ll tell her no, he’ll look like it hurts him, but he’ll do it, because even if it means Past Melanie will hate him, it’ll at least keep her safe, and then—

“So talk to Diana,” Jon says, sounding a bit clipped. “She runs the place.”

And just like that, the little flicker of hope in her chest dies. He doesn’t remember her, only knows her as the irritating, argumentative woman who came in with a story and shouted at him the whole time. It’s not her Jon. Something’s gone terribly, terribly wrong and they didn’t make it back. Or at least he didn’t make it back. Maybe there’s still hope for Martin. Maybe.

Melanie should storm out at this point, but…she can’t. If there’s any hope of changing things, she’ll have to do it herself. Jon may be an arse, but that doesn’t mean he deserves what happens—happened—to him. Nobody does.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly have the academic credentials you guys demand, so apparently I need someone to vouch for me,” she says. Jon sighs heavily, sounding annoyed, but she plunges on regardless. “And you’re basically the closest thing I have to a friend here.”

It hurts, saying it like that. Because they weren’t friends, they weren’t, she absolutely hates his guts and he never really liked her either (he tried to find another way out for you, he knew you wanted to quit, he promised you he would find something, he let you quit even though he knew it would likely hurt him…). But the man standing before her is the closest thing she has to the man she knew, and that’s…supremely unfair.

Jon gives a short, disbelieving laugh. “We’ve spoken once, and we ended up screaming at each other—”

“Yes! And that’s more than I have with anyone else here.” Melanie feels as though she’s following the lines of a well-worn script, words put down on paper and given her to memorize. She does it anyway, though, invoking Georgie’s name, startling Jon into admitting that he and Georgie hadn’t parted on the best of terms, avoiding mentioning the details of why nobody in the business will talk to her anymore, describing people in the industry as skeptics pretending to be believers pretending to be skeptics.

And that’s where the first twist comes in, because instead of sneering I think the word you’re looking for is “charlatans”, Jon looks at her for a moment and then says, “And none of them are helpful.”

She starts to bristle automatically, then looks at him again. He’s not…dismissing her. She doesn’t know how to take that, so she just tries to go back on script, telling him the group split up, responding to his small noise of distress (not a go on this time, which is odd) by describing the bare bones of what led to her arrest. “After that…”

“Your reputation went with it,” Jon says.

He doesn’t say all-important. He’s taking her seriously. Melanie looks away, clenching her jaw tightly, trying her hardest to stay angry. It’s important that she be angry here, it’s important that nobody suspect…and damn it all, she does. Not. Like. Jonathan. Sims. He’s everything about herself she hates, which is…basically everything, if she’s being honest, and they’ve never done anything but rub one another the wrong way.

I’m so sorry, Melanie, I should never have put you in harm’s way like this, this is all my fault…

“Yes,” she grits out, forcing back the memories (and oh, God, why are they coming out now, why couldn’t they have just stayed decently buried). “Look, I have leads that I really need to follow up on, and as far as my colleagues are concerned these days, I’m the ghost.”

She’s aware of the dark irony in her voice at that. She’s practically the fucking Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. And nobody but her will ever know that. She just needs Jon to talk with Diana, get her that pass, and then—

“All right,” Jon says. “Come on, then.”

Melanie’s head jerks up. That’s not in the script. “What?” she asks, a bit stupidly.

“Come on,” Jon repeats, and he actually gets to his feet as he does so. “I’ll take you up to the library and vouch for you. If all else fails, I can claim we’re borrowing you as an adjunct for a few weeks or something.” He must see something in her face, because he suddenly falters. “U-unless you’d rather wait?”

“Oh.” Melanie isn’t sure whether to hug him or hit him. This…isn’t right. This isn’t what she expected. Maybe he is…no, no, he wouldn’t let her go up there if he was.

But Sasha’s alive, and Jon’s being helpful, and something has clearly changed. Maybe Martin’s making a difference.

“No, the sooner the better,” she says. “I—just expected a bit more of a fight, to be honest.” She also expected him to say something about losing the respect of his peers, but…

“Yes, well, I know what it’s like to be itching to follow up on a lead and have your every effort frustrated,” Jon says dryly. “And I believe I owe you for being…dismissive of you before.” While Melanie is still trying to cope with that, he seems to suddenly notice the recorder in his hand and adds, “Uh, end supplemental.”

She should be pissed about being recorded, but…she’s not. Maybe she can steal that tape later and listen back to it to prove to herself she didn’t imagine this. Acceding to Jon’s gesture, she heads back out into the Archives proper.

[remcycl333]

hii! luv the success story of you and the youtuber! could you tell us more about how you manifested the distance away between you and your sp? currently doing the same <3

hi!!

so basically here is my story:

my sp and i broke up after high school ended bc i was having doubts and fears about us being in a long distance relationship when we went off to college, and they ending up manifesting. i literally somewhat recently was rereading the journal i kept while my sp and i were dating and five days before he broke up with me i wrote a whole entry about how long distance would never work and how we should probably just break up now (even tho i didn't want that at all). and i remember sobbing while writing that entry. i literally scripted without even realizing it!!! and it manifested pretty much instantly.

fast forward a few months and i learned about manifestation. i think what really helped me to manifest distance away was the fact that i never cared that it was there in the first place. my fears about being in a long distance relationship were about him, not me. i know myself and i know that im perfectly capable of doing long distance. i knew that i loved him so much that i wouldn't even mind not being able to see him in person. cuz i'd much rather prefer not being able to see him for a few months while he was off at college over us breaking up and not being able to see--or even talk to him--ever again. so i think the main thing that helped me manifest the distance away was not caring that there was distance in the first place. i was content being in a long distance relationship.

if you're reading that and you're like, well i'm not and that's why i'm asking you how to manifest distance away, i completely understand. just be okay with the possibility of you guys being in a long distance relationship. you don't have to worry about distance. remember, what you focus on, you create. so if you focus on distance, and distance being a problem, that's what will show up in your reality. so ignore it.

anyway, back to my story. i learned about the law of attraction in october of 2019. i saw a little progress in december 2019 when my sp randomly texted me and asked to see me over break. i was so excited! but...it never happened. he came home from college, said he wanted to see me, and then texted me right before he boarded a plane back to college saying that he was sorry he didn't make time to see me. i never responded.

(pls don't get discouraged at this story bc this was when i didn't know about the law of assumption yet and was only operating on the law of attraction, which confused and stressed the living hell out of me)

anyway, then, in january, with the new year, i gave up. i decided i was over my sp. i literally never thought about him. i was focused on other things, and i was content with never seeing/hearing from him ever again.

then, march 2020, as we all clearly remember, covid started getting really bad and everything shut down. and after two months of completely forgetting about my sp and my manifestation, suddenly he was back and only twenty minutes away from me.

so i didn't have to worry about distance for over a year. we were in lockdown, there were no in-person classes. i never worried about it.

until may 2021 when i started seeing a lot of progress with my sp. i was worried that when the fall semester started, he would go back across the country to college and we'd be right back where we started. but no. i'd affirm whenever i thought about it that he transferred to a specific college that i wanted him to go to, that he was never even gonna set foot in that other state ever again. and then i stopped thinking about it. it was done. i wasn't worried anymore.

i didn't think about it for months until finally a few weeks ago he casually mentioned to me in conversation that he transferred to the exact college i had in mind. it felt so natural and normal that at first i didn't even realize it was my manifestation. but then i realized, holy fuck. i said he would transfer to this exact school, and he did. he fucking did.

and this school's application closes like in early june i believe. and i was affirming mid-may, late may. just like that i got my manifestation, and i didn't even find out until early september. i had my manifestation for months before even realizing it!

that's what we mean when we say you don't fucking know what's happening behind the scenes. i had gotten exactly what i wanted and i didnt even know!!! but i didn't let myself stress about it, i just focused on the belief that we were together and that i loved him, and everything fell into place with little to no effort from me.

so basically my advice is to just stop thinking about it. affirm a few times, maybe even for a few days if you want, and then just drop it. don't even allow yourself to think about it. it isn't a problem, it doesn't exist. you can manifest your sp in and be in a relationship long distance while you're waiting for the distance to go away. anything can happen. way back in 2019 when i first started manifesting my sp back, i thought he would never transfer.i thought i'd see him a few times a year, and i was content with that. never in my wildest dreams did i think that i could manifest the distance away, and i did! simply by ignoring it. by correcting my thoughts when they tried to tell me he going to a different state. that's all you need to do. the universe will do the rest for you. it's not up for you to think about or dwell on the how. it's just not.

i hope this helped!!! if u have any questions, feel free to ask🤍

[tuiyla]

no pressure to respond if it's too heavy for you, but do you ever also feel like naya's death hasn't fully sunk in yet? like i'll just be watching glee tiktoks/gifsets on tumblr or whatever and then it'll suddenly hit me that naya passed almost two years ago now. still doesn't feel real.

Yeah I do, and I think others feel similarly as well. It's a bittersweet feeling to know you're not alone Anon.

It's tricky with celebrities and parasocial relationships because it's not like a lot of us had or would have met Naya so her loss doesn't have that immediate effect. I can go about my day, go about my life in fact and it's the same because she wasn't part of it in that sense. We can even watch Glee and pretend, or even forget for a little while. But I'm like you, it tends to suddenly hit me with this sinking feeling in my stomach. Oh. It's an extra layer of crazy that it's gonna be the two-year anniversary before we even know it. Life doesn't stop for the rest of us.

The most reassuring thing (hopefully) I can tell you is that you're not alone and it's perfectly valid to feel this grief, even though it's quite different from what we normally recognize when close loved ones pass. I think it's because of the parasocial aspect of it that it doesn't feel real for a lot of people even now. Death can be like that anyway; just speaking from personal experience, sadly. I'm attending a funeral next week, actually, so, yeah. But just because the grief people feel for Naya is a different kind, like I say it's still valid. And it's because of this lack of immediate effect on our personal lives that I think this "doesn't feel real" effect is heightened, imo.

I hope you can continue to find beauty in her work and even honour her legacy in some way if you're feeling up to it. At this point, I've written two pieces that I'd consider to be sort of tributes to Naya (plus a gifset), and I always find those cathartic to create. It was the sharp knife of a short life indeed, her passing at only 33 but I take comfort in knowing that she gave so much in that short time and gave so many people hope. I think that's beautiful and a way to appreciate the time she did have. My heart breaks for her son every time I remember him, as well as the rest of her friends and family but at least as fans we can be spared that heartbreak and admire the things she got to do as an actress, singer, and overall public person. May she rest in peace.

[ezravon3]

CURSED!GREGORY STORY! [Old Version]

This is for @notsodailycake and @circuscraz as they're the only ones who showed any interest in Cursed!Gregory's story. Credit for the drawing of Cursed!Gregory goes to @circuscraz. Now this is the first story I ever post on here so sorry if I do anything wrong or if I make any mistakes. Fair warning: the story has a bit of dark elements to it. I won't go into much detail on those elements though and I tried to keep this as lighthearted as possible. So without further ado, let's start the story of my beloved Cursed!Gregory.

Chapter 1:The Dream & New Family

I stood there in my smaller body and just looked up at the man and woman who yelled at me. Both were dressed in fancy and expensive clothes. The women's nails, makeup and jewelry is very expensive. Her hair is in a fancy updo with expensive looking hair accessories in it. She slapped me as they both continued to yell at me. Her perfectly manicured nails cut my cheek and one of them cut me deep enough to leave a scar on my face but I was completely unfazed. This is a dream. A replay in my mind of events that have already happened years ago that I've already experienced countless times. It doesn't faze me anymore. I've started to tune them out since I already know what they're saying. They call me a worthless child. A burden. A disgrace. A eyesore among other things. They say that I'm ungrateful for they're "kindness". They make me wear dirty rags, will only let me eat their food scraps,will only let me drink water once every two weeks and make me stay in a room so small, it's about the size of a dog house. This mansion is huge and they live in the lap of luxury with countless servents yet they made me stay in that tiny space.

I'd honestly be happier and better off on the streets. I was happier and better off on the streets after they finally abandoned me. They often threatened me by saying that they will leave me on the streets and I always hoped that they would. One day, they finally did. I was finally free of them. I suddenly felt wetness on my cut cheek and woke up from the dream. I woke up to my German Shepherd, Samantha, licking my scared cheek as she wagged her tail and stood on my bed. I smiled at her and pet her head. She happily accepted the pets and licked my scar covered arm then jumped down from my bed and ran out my room through the open door. I was adopted six months ago and I like my new family. They treat me properly and don't have impossibly high expectations of me. They let me be me. And I love them for it. Sadly I can't tell them that. Not with my own voice anyway because of my curse. A curse that I have thanks to my entitled biological parents. A curse I hate with every fiber of my being. A curse I have no choice but to live with it due to the lack of a cure. A curse that made my bio family do a complet 180 and hate my very existence. I found pictures of myself when I was much younger in that mansion. Before I was was ever cursed. I was dressed in expensive clothes, had expensive toys and my bio parents looked so happy with me.

I remember overhearing some maids who worked in the mansion talk about how much my bio family adored me before I was cursed. About how much they praised my very existence until I was cursed. I was cursed at a very young age so I don't remember having a normal life. I don't remember having positive attention from my bio family or the servents. It honestly feels like someone else's life. I can't stand perfect things. Perfect things just erk me. My new family accepts that. I got up and changed out of my Freddy pjs then left my messyish room. My room was still a bit empty but Im working on getting more things to decorate it with. I now live in a nice -but not too nice- singe story house with my new family and Freddy. Freddy is like a Dad to me. I have a human Dad too. I have a new Mom that's very attentive to me and always happily cooks for me. I have a new grandmother that knits things just for me. I have a new grandfather that happily tells me intrusting stories about all kinds of things. I have a deaf little sister who looks up to me and a new motherly older sister with a prastetic leg and burn scars covering half her body. The necklace I pretty much never take off was a gift from said older sister so I can speak without using my voice or ASL.

My new big sis is the best. I live happily with my new parents, sisters and grandparents. When I entered the kitchen, I was the last one to arrive and I was greeted by the smell of my new Mom's delicious cooking. I was greeted warmly by my family and was hugged by my Mom. She moved my bangs and hood out the way and kissed my forehead before letting me go. My Mom is a very pretty short haired brunette with green eyes, slightly tanned skin and wore a light green short sleeve knee length dress under a cute white apron with frills on the bottom and light green slippers. My human dad is a business man with slicked back hair, my grandmother is just a fragile looking short old lady bound to a wheelchair. My grandfather is a skinny and bolding old man that needs a cane. All three also have slightly tanned skin. My sisters, Luan (older) and Bree (younger) look a lot like Mom. After breakfast, I brushed my teeth, put my shoes on and grabbed my bag. Time for a place I've never been very fond of: School.

Chapter 2:Scool Outcast

My human Dad dropped me off at school. As much as I hate it here, it's not THAT bad. I mean, I've been to schools that are far worse then this one. This one is pretty clean and the food is pretty decent for the most part. I'm the school outcast and some of the students and teachers hate me but whatever. I bring the lunch Mom makes and packs for me to school a lot since I can't eat the school food most of the time. Most of the school food has wheat in it and I'm very allergic to wheat. I can't even touch anything that's come in contact with wheat or anything that's touches whar the wheat has without having a allergic reaction. Same with sea food and peanuts. I'm the only one at my school with food allergies, which is another thing that separates me from everyone else here. I sighed softly and walked in the school. As usual, everyone avoided me but bad rumors still spread about me. I feel at home and welcomed when at that house but here, I'm known as just the mute weirdo with strange eyes. There's slight bulling on occasion like water being dumped on me, insults being written on my desk and being purposely tripped by objects then being laughed at but I can and do just bear with it. I keep it a secret from my family and just focus on my grades and drawings.

I got in the habit of carrying around a switchblade and a fazblaster for self defense. I've also been taking martal arts classes since I was adopted six months ago. I stayed by myself and drew in my sketchbook under a tree in the cortyard as I ate at lunchtime. The Cafeteria is always crowded so I rearly ever go in there. Some of my teachers hate and are trying to fail me but I do too well in their class for them to fail me. They still try though. They try so hard. And it's so obvious. No one says anything though since no one cares. I'm sure some of them are even routing for the teachers to fail me. I wouldn't be surprised if they celebrate my absences as if they're holidays. Every time I come here, I can't wait to leave. "Hey! Weirdo!" A female voice called and a admittedly pretty red head with fair skin in a fancy outfit walked over to me and I hugged my sketchbook after quickly closing it. It's the school's snob. She's the principal's daughter so she's very spoild and is one of the very popular kids. Her name is Anna Jones. Everyone in the school knows her. "Alone again? Doesn't that get old?" She asked all smugly and the two girls she often has with her giggled. Ah, her main obedient little minions. "We heard you were adpted, is that true?" I just nodded. "Hey! The Grate Anna is talking to you, speak!" One of the minions said, obviously annoyed. I didn't react. This is normal. "Maybe he really is mute." The other minion said and I only nodded again. "Oh, really? Now answer my question." Anna said as she beant down to be at my eye level. I know she and her main minions know ASL so I decided to take advantage of that. " 'Yeah, I'm adopted but that just means my parents payed to have me while yours are stick with you.' " I sighed and I didn't stop there. " 'I'll file your opinions between 'fuck this' and 'fuck that' now go feed your own ego, I'm busy'. " I signed then got up and grabbed my stuff then left. I finished my lunch and my drawing on the other side of the cortyard, leaving the three popular snobs shocked by the tree.

Can the school day end already? Please. I hate it here. It's so boring and crowded. Being a outcast doesn't help. School finally ended some hours later and the second half of the day was even more annoying than usual since I told Ana those things but I made it through the day without beating anyone with a chair so I'd say that my people skills are improving. Mom came to pick me up and I happily got in her car. I immediately relaxed once I was in her car with her. "How was school?" " 'Same as always'. " "I see. Would you like to stop for ice cream on the way home?" " 'Yes' " I sighed quickly, making her giggle. "Alright then." She stopped by a little ice cream parlor on the way home and let me eat my ice cream in the car as she drove home. My ice cream is mint chocolate in a bowl and I was given a little plastic spoon to eat with. I don't have sweets very often but I do love them. A lot. Maybe too much but in my defense, I've only started to eat sweets after being adoted.

Chapter 3:Cursed

It was the weekend and I was staring at my reflection in my bedroom mirror. My hood was down and I moved my hair out of the way, revealing my eyes. I hate the red hue in my eyes but I hate when my eyes turn red even more. The red hue in my eyes is all because of my curse. My eyes turn red when my curse is triggered. My curse will only be triggered if I say 'like' or 'love' in my own voice. If it's a object I say that I like or love then it will explode. If it's a person then they will die on the spot in some way or another. I learned about my curse and how it works the hard way and I know it took a tole on me. I accidentally killed some of my bio relatives and some of the servents by complete accident when I was younger. Gore and violence don't faze me anymore. Neither does death unless it's someone dear to me. I actually find myself enjoying violence and gore. I try to keep that part of myself under control though. I stuck out my tongue and saw a very familiar sight of a magic symbol in the center of my tongue:

It appered the moment I was cursed. So did the red hue in my eyes. Even when not triggered, my curse does things. Less lethal things but still. A leg of the chair Mom, Dad, Papa, my sisters or grandpa is sitting in will suddenly break at random and all the knifes in Mom's knife drawer suddenly move so the blades point twords her whenever she opens it and other little things like that. They still love and accept me. I'm very grateful for that. My bio family didn't know that I was cursed, they just belived that I had a lot of bad luck and treated me poorly because of it. I will always have scars as a reminder of their treatment of me. Not just the one on my face. I have cut scars on my body as well. I just hide them with my clothes a lot. I don't worry about hidding them here though. My family doesn't mind my scars and they make me forget that I even have them a lot.

They make me feel wanted.

They make me feel loved.

They make me feel normal.

They mean so much to me.

If I didn't have them then I don't know where I would be.

They're working on trying to find a cure for my curse by investing the death of the women who cursed me to see if they can find a way to lift my curse for me. They found the journal of the women who cursed me and gave it to me. I haven't read the old looking journal yet but I decided to do it now. I sat on my bed with it and opened it. After reading some info on the yellowed worn out pages I didn't care about, I found the last two entries to be interesting. One was very obviously written when she was full of rage and basically said how badly my biological parents screwed her over and made her lose everything. The very last entry was obviously incomplete. It said that she regretted cursing the one year old boy that couple valued more than anything else. So I was only a year old when I was cursed and my biological parents are why. There was a incomplete list of things and some of them are things I've never even heard of. Some things were crosed out but the last word was half written and then theres a line of ink just on the paper along with some mysterious stains. I think, she was killed while she was writting this the the mysterious stains are her blood stains. I think the incomplete list is of the things she was gathering to rid me of my curse. She died before she could free me so I became stuck with this damn curse.

Chapter 4:New Friend? Freed?

I got a new classmate. Someone transferred to my school. It was a pretty goth girl with snow white skinnand sholder length hair with uneven bangs covering the left side of her face. Her name is Raven Blackburn. After a good while, I at least become equatancis with her. She's not bothered by my choice to be mute or the odd little things that happen around me. She hangs around me at school now but don't cross my personal barriers and always calls others out of their behavior. I like her. Platonicly of course. She's cool. After a few more weeks, I finally invited her to come over and she was welcomed with open arms just like I thought she would be. She was surprisingly respectful to my family. Especially my grandparents. Samantha liked her and Raven liked Samantha too. That woman's Journal was on my bed and Raven saw it. "Where did you get this?" She asked as she looked at me with the old looking journal in her hand. I sighed softly then signed to her everything about my curse and why I have that journal. She watched me sign patiently and only spoke again when I was done. "The owner of this journal is my Aunt Maria. Everyone in my family was taught some magic at a young age. So your the child she cursed?" I nodded and she hugged the old looking journal very gently. "We were looking for this and some other things of hers. What else of hers do you have?" " 'Just that.' " I signed honestly. "I see. Someone else must have stolen the other things." She seemed sad. I waned to ask what all she was looking for but restrained myself for a reason even I don't know.

After a while of awkward silence that felt like forever, she spoke again. "I can undo it. Your curse I mean." I looked at her in shock. " 'really, you can?' " "Yes. It may take a while since I need to remember all the items needed to brake your curse but I can still do it." She said confidentiality and I couldn't help but tackle her in a hug, catching her completly off guard. She hugged me back anyway and the hug lasted a while. I can't believe that there's a chance I can finally be free of this curse. My family was just as happy as me when I told them what Raven said. They like Raven even more now and so do I. Still platonicly though of course. --------------------------------------------------

This is shorter then I originally planed but this is the whole story. At least for now. Hope you liked it. 😎

⬇️ Here is part 2 ⬇️

[robininthelabyrinth]

So i like the character is a magic/mythical creature stories, but when it comes to wwx, it always seems to be his mom he gets it from? I'd like to see one where it's wwx's dad who's the dragon/pheonix/etc.

Donghua!MDZS verse

“I really want to go down the mountain,” she said. “I really, really want to go down the mountain. I want to –”

“Then go down the mountain already,” the old bird croaked, sticking his head out, and she jumped, surprised: she hadn’t seen him there, sleeping in the firepit under the oven. He was usually doing that, though in the main building rather than here; he was old, he said, and needed the sleep. “You’ve said it a dozen times over now. Who are you trying to convince, the air spirits?”

“The air spirits don’t care,” she said automatically, then sighed, sitting down next to him. “I want to tell Teacher. I’m just – practicing.”

“You’re normally so bold,” he said. “Since when do you care about consequences? You forget pain the second after it heals.”

“Hey, this is a big decision,” she said. “Going into the human world’s a one-way trip. I won’t know anyone there.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” he said, and laid his head on her lap. His beak is the size of her thigh, heavy and ponderous, and her hand, when she puts it on his head, sinks so deep into his feathers that she can scarcely see it. “You might meet ‘me’ down there.”

“You?”

“I’ve gone down the mountain myself a few times over the centuries,” he said. “Depending on what era you get popped out into, you might meet ‘me’. A version thereof, anyway; younger and more feisty than these old bones.”

“I’d like that,” she said, stroking his feathers the way she had since childhood. The old bird had been her constant companion, always there for her. “I’d like that a lot.”

-

His name was Wei Changze.

She recognized him at once, of course, no matter his human form (the nose that curved like a beak was particularly unsurprising), but the name somehow still came as a shock.

They didn’t have names on the mountain – they knew who and what they were, and so did everyone else. This caused the humans down the mountain some great amount of distress, which was why she was currently being addressed as Cangse Sanren as if that were her name; she acceded to it with about as much grace as she normally had, meaning not much.

But he had a name.

He was a servant, too. She didn’t mind that so much; for creatures like him, going down the mountain wasn’t a one-way trip the way it was for rescued humans like her – it was a means of gaining experience, trying out different facets of human life, and it didn’t really make a difference to her that in this life he was a servant, not a master. He was still her favorite companion.

She treated him the way she always did, tugging on his sleeves and running her fingers through his hair and coaxing him to put his head in her lap, and she didn’t think anything of it – didn’t think he would see it as anything more than he usually did – until one day he had enough of her nonsense and kissed her.

“Oh,” she said, and belatedly realized that her impossible childhood crush on a phoenix large enough to eat a horse was no longer quite as impossible. “Oh. Don’t you think I’m too young for you?”

“I’m not as old as I’ll one day be,” he said, laughing at her. Younger and feistier indeed! “And anyway, how many years do you think we really have left?”

“I don’t have many,” she pointed out. Everyone knew that the humans who walked down the mountain faced an early and often miserable doom; it was something that they had to accept before they went, and she’d always thought that the fact that they went anyway said something profound. About what, she wasn’t sure, but definitely profound. “You have as many as you like.”

He took her hand in his. “Be mine,” he said, and there are flames in his human eyes. “Be mine, and I will take on a share of your doom in this life; I will share your joy and your misery in equal kind.”

Well.

When he put it like that…

-

“Our son will be proud and strong,” her husband said. He looked immensely pleased. “He will have your humor, your boldness; he will have my creativity, my inability to be stopped. I will give him a gift of one rebirth.”

She wiped the sweat from her brow. “If he’s a phoenix like you, he won’t thank you; if he’s a human, he’ll mostly be confused by it,” she said. It was a strange fate to bestow - generally speaking one only needed a rebirth if things went wrong - but then again he was her son, he was probably doomed anyway. A chance at rebirth couldn’t hurt. “Can I see him?”

She looked down, a little long-sufferingly, at the over-large egg placed into her arms. Holding it in the light, she can just barley see the form of a curled-up human infant inside, looking quite smug about his comfortable home.

“He’ll need a few extra months in the egg,” her husband said. “To help calm the flames that would otherwise scorch his human skin.”

“Flames, hmm?” she asked, lips twitching a little as she looked down at the little miracle they’d created, just the two of them. She wouldn’t have gotten him if she’d stayed up on the mountain, and she thought that her little A-Ying would be a prize worth dooming them both.

“Green flames at his command,” her husband said. He was proud as a peacock, and she made no move to stop him. “He will be the king of birds, and ravens will come at his command.”

“Just ravens?” she teased. “If he ever spends time in Yunmeng, I suspect he’ll use the ability to lure out pheasants to hunt for his dinner.”

“A perfectly worthwhile use,” her husband coughed, clearly having done more than a little of that himself. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing,” she said, smirking. “Nothing at all…should we tell Jiang Fengmian about it?”

“About what?”

“Well, I mean – if we die, he’ll be the one to pick up A-Ying, won’t he?”

“More than likely. He liked you a great deal, my dear.”

“Not as much as he liked you. Anyway, if he’s going to have some part in raising our son, shouldn’t he know what our son is?”

“No,” he said, suddenly solemn. “He shouldn’t know. None of them should.”

“Very well,” she said. Her husband knew the human world better than she. “We’ll teach him what we can ourselves, and hope he remembers.”

-

He only remembered a little.

[thestorytellersapprentice]

Why Do-yeok

I cannot believe I'm writing another one of this "Why" post. I thought it's a one-time thing with Love Alarm... But, here I am. Maybe because just like the previously mentioned Netflix series, Nevertheless causes huge discourse among its viewers. Team Potato and Team Butterfly. Jae-eon and Do-hyeok. Sanctuary or the gravitational pull.

And first off, an important note: my intention by writing this is not to seek any debate with anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, so here's mine. Feel free to read it or definitely not to read it if you're firmly on Jae-eon's corner and you can't imagine Na-bi with anyone else but him. I just want to sort out my thoughts simultaneously through writing this. And this is gonna be a bit long, I suppose.

So, as the title already declares, I'm Team Potato all the way. And, yep, this means I'm thoroughly on Do-hyeok's side and I want him to be happy because he deserves it. (Still need to see what's in store in the final episode, but I'm perfectly okay with an open ending: Na-bi ends up not choosing anyone but herself, as long as her friendship with Do-hyeok remains intact.)

And this comes down simply because of who Yang Do-hyeok is as a person.

If Do-hyeok is real, then you can bet that I'll date him myself too. At the very least, I'd definitely like to be friends with him.

Why?

Because....

One. His whole vibe is just so....warm and comfortable. We often see Do-hyeok's cheerful sides. He smiles a lot (and boy, Chae Jong-hyeop's smiles are just so endearing, but we're talking about the character here. Ahem.) He's attentive, thoughtful, and open. And he's not only like this with Na-bi. He, by nature, is a very friendly person, as you can see from his interaction with Do-yeon, his cousin, also with Na-bi's friends and the hyeongs in the noodle restaurant that he works at.

And I like it a lot that even just after Do-hyeok confesses to Na-bi and she turns him down, the very next day, they're able to speak with each other normally and just talk about his videos and how she'll watch them and give him feedback. That night, Na-bi also answers his call with a smile on her face. They joke around and not even stopping after Do-hyeok throws her some arguably-cringey-lines (if uttered by other guys and not handled properly). Clearly, Na-bi's very on ease and comfortable with and around him despite everything that has happened.

She even says this on her own: "And most of all, I feel comfortable when I'm with him."

Two. With Do-hyeok, the communication is sterling. Honesty and communication is also very important in a healthy relationship. Your partner isn't a mind reader, so you gotta tell her/him what you feel and think about, especially when you're having a hard time, so you both can work on it together. And our potato guy is the perfect example of openness and honesty.

Even when he's having a hard time, he doesn't lash out (unlike a certain someone), but he communicates it clearly to Na-bi: "I saw you and Park Jae-eon going into your house together. I know I said that I could wait for you as long as it takes. But I felt so jealous."

Do-hyeok also casually throwing lines like: "It's nice to hear your voice. The whole neighborhood seems empty without you." which can be really cringey, but hearing these with Chae Jong-hyeop's delivery = it's just Do-hyeok openly sharing his thoughts. And, again, he's not just like this with Na-bi. That's just the way he is. He openly states his concerns and thoughts to people close to him.

After her first disaster relationship and Jae-eon (who's a master deflector on all personal questions and is truly opaque), IMO someone like Do-hyeok is what Na-bi needs. With Do-hyeok, she never has to guess where she stands. And Na-bi responds to his openness accordingly. She shares her worries and not-so-good moments ("I was spacing out because the critique went badly. I got scolded. This semester is really the worst. I didn't get accepted to the exchange program as well.") And of course, Do-hyeok responds by reassuring and encouraging her.

Three. They begin as friends. Childhood friends, even. And while some may point out that she friend-zones him, I beg to differ. The expression on Na-bi's face when she first sees Do-yeon and hasn't recognizes her is not the expression of someone who sees her just-platonic-friend conversing with a girl. You can practically see the gears in her head turning and she suddenly looks unsure: "Who is that girl talking to Do-hyeok?"

But anyway, iIluminatedquill has written here and here what I want to say and more, so I won't add any more here, other than this: it's my own personal preference as well. I'm just more drawn to romantic relationships which also evolve from friendship. I feel that lust will only get you so far, and the companionship aspect is what makes it long-lasting. (Even in my personal life, my boyfriend is not only my boyfie, he's my friend and partner in crime also.)

Four. Do-hyeok has good and normal relationships with his family. He obviously has good relationship with his Grandpa (judging from the way he's reviving his Grandpa's noodle place until his Grandpa feels better) and is close with his cousin, Do-yeon. While this is based on what's been shown and even though we never see or hear about his parents, I think it's safe to say that Do-hyeok most probably grows up in a loving family and he carries their values with him as he approaches his relationships with people as an adult.

Again, this is mostly personal preference, but as someone who highly value family, for me this is another point for Do-hyeok. I'm not saying that someone with dysfunctional family cannot form loving relationships, but it's what one aspires for.

Do-hyeok cares for people. He takes care of them (e.g. voicing concerns over Do-yeon's plastered hand, preparing umbrella and coffee for Na-bi, etc etc). And, sadly, Jae-eon's distant family background just makes him even more detached and non-committal towards people.

As for Na-bi, she wants to learn from her mother and not following in her footsteps. "I promise myself I would never date while watching my mom." It's heavily implied (and is practically confirmed by her aunt) that her mother dates around as well, and from the one scene we're shown during her birthday weekend, she always feels like her mother neglects her and she's upset about it. So, yeah, Na-bi wants to live differently, and it's clear who's a natural at it already.

Five. I can see them growing together. Yeah, Na-bi's mostly the one who needs to sort out her life, but she also can be a good influence to Do-hyeok. She gives him feedback on his videos (as an example) and he builds upon that.

From Na-bi herself: "I don't want to ever disappoint Do-hyeok." She sees him as such a good guy and always receives things from him. I interpret her line here as her desire to improve herself, to be better. And that's how a good relationship should be, right? It brings out the best out of each other.

That's it from me for now.

I guess some of the points up there can be different priorities for different people, and that's okay. As I've said at the beginning of this post, this is all mine, so feel free to disagree.

To me, Jae-eon is like this very strong gravitational pull: he's sexy, mysterious and very alluring, yet he displays oh-so-many red flags. It's all such a rollercoaster ride with him: very fun and thrilling, yet can also cause you extreme dread.

While Do-hyeok is like a sanctuary. He represents safety, stability and ease. With him, it's like strolling on a park somewhere under the sunshine: things feel warm, pleasant, and cozy.

Na-bi probably still feels the gravitational force of Jae-eon. It's hard to shake off completely on such a short span of time, but I hope she remembers that just like her namesake, she always have her own strength to fly and defy gravity.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[attitudeissues]

my feelings on abby/luka range from “they’re in love and perfect for each other and they make me feel all soft and warm inside” to “their relationship is a total disaster taking an absolute nosedive off a cliff” and there is no in between (the former is the chemistry from the actors and their soft and intimate scenes, the latter is the writers fault for trying to create useless drama storylines as if everyone wouldn’t have preferred a storyline of them just getting to be happy for once)

i do agree that a lot of it was a huge disaster, and i was sort of talking about this with someone the other day. like the ENTIRE thing with abby drinking again and luka staying in croatia for so long: why? i don't find it believable at all that luka would have done that. or that abby wouldn't have dumped him for it, honestly, after how much he promised her that they were in it together raising joe. they had to do something because of visnjic's contract, fine, but that's all they could think of? ruin all those seasons of abby getting her shit together and both of them actually getting to be happy? i kind of feel like they were just out of ideas, since it was originally supposed to be the last season of the show.

visnjic and tierney did have a ton of chemistry though, so i still enjoyed watching the disaster plotlines, i can't lie. it's not like we didn't know for years that they were going to be a shitshow. their breakup in 'the longer you stay' was dumb as hell, even if it was kind of iconic, and i've said this a million times: it was so out of character, it made no sense. they sold it though. i'd watch them together in anything. as for an in between, it's not like they gave anybody a reason to have one. i loved just about every scene they had as friends though. i think they were written perfectly as friends. but the writers couldn't do a normal, stable relationship to save their lives. i do remember though that some viewers weren't happy with the show when there wasn't more drama. it didn't rate as well, so that probably had something to do with it. i personally wouldn't have been one of those viewers. they deserved a much better ending.

ETA: also i feel like a lot of the bullshit happened because they kind of retconned the characters? like luka and abby were both much happier, more optimistic people when they were first introduced. then he’s suddenly all dark and moody and shit, and she turns out to be an alcoholic pessimist with a fucked up family. idk man. i have a lot of feelings, okay? and i will literally talk about these two (on ER or otherwise) and this show all day, you can just message me. you don't have to be anonymous!

[kerie-prince]

the memory of you pt. 1

Gilderoy Lockhart x Healer!reader

requested: (anon) Omg thank you! If you want to write any kind of Lockhart scenario that suggests NSFW stuff then I'd totally be cool with whatever you come up with 😊 thanks again so much! ❤️

warnings: none

summary: After helping Gilderoy deal with his memory loss and get him out of St. Mungo's, you couldn't help but fall for his charm once more when he finds you on the streets of London.

a/n: I THOUGHT I QUEUED THIS 💀 i sat here at work thinking 'damn, no one liked my post? k 😭' anyways, i'm gonna break this into two parts before it gets too long lmao. bold italics are flashbacks

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You worked with a certain celebrity for quite a while now. He was brought in one day without knowing who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up in a weird cave. His residence at St. Mungo’s where you worked lasted for a while. Other Healers declared that there was no way to recover his memory, but he didn’t seem to mind. Gilderoy was perfectly content with being happy and healthy even if he didn't know what was going on.

He was so sweet. Never gave you or any of your colleagues any trouble. He took his potions with ease, didn't make a fuss when bringing him from one room to another, and held conversations as normal. His family would visit him on occasion and it pained you to watch him not know them. But overall, he was happy.

After two years at St. Mungos, Gilderoy was let go considering that even though his memories were gone, he had enough mental stability to be out in public. Gilderoy had to go to a private academy to re-learn magic basics in adult classes. You remember the night before he left.

“So nice to start my life tomorrow,” Gilderoy had his signature smile on. He ate his dinner on his own without the help of Healers.

“Your life has already started, you just don't remember is all,” you corrected. You were preparing his bed for the last time. Since it's his last night, you were able to grab an extra pillow for him to be comfortable.

“Yes, but tomorrow I'll start a life I can remember. I'll make new memories.” Gilderoy stood up from his small table and walk to his hospital bed. He always loved the way you prepared his bed. How you fluffed the pillow, folded the blankets back neatly, and made sure the bed was warm. It wasn't special treatment as you did it for all patients, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Good night, Miss Y/L/N,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Lockhart,” you replied.

Two years later, you're still working at St. Mungos. You've seen patients come and go since then. None quite as cooperative as Gilderoy, but they weren't all bad either.

The London streets were busy as usual today. It was slightly cloudy, but luckily it wasn't raining. And thank Merlin because you didn't have an umbrella with you. Cabs were driving right past you as you stood by the sidewalk trying to catch one. Once one stopped in front of you and you were about to climb in, another hand also grabbed for the handle. “Miss Y/L/N?”

Gilderoy stood next to you, eyes gleaming and wore his charming smile. He looked as happy as he always did. “Mr. Lockhart, hello.” It was a pleasant run in, and you'd love to chat but you had to be at work soon. It seemed that he noticed your uniform as well. “Oh, go ahead. I'll call for another one.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” You opened the door but before you could close it, Gilderoy said one last thing. “I hope to see you again!” He waved at you as you left and kept at it until you were out of sight.

His wish was granted three months later; he was walking around the same street for probably the 4th time that week. He wasn't ashamed to admit that after that day he ran into you, he wanted to see you again. You were with a couple of friends at a pub one night celebrating a proper weekend off. Gilderoy followed you in, a bit of people that recognized him stopped him to say ‘hi’ but of course, he doesn't know them. They were fans of his before the memory loss. They took a few pictures and he went walking after you. You were seen sitting at a bar table by yourself waiting for your friends to come back from the restroom.

Gilderoy walked up to you slowly, “Hello, Miss Y/L/N.” You recognized him and by pure habit, you gave him your work smile and voice, “Good evening, Mr. Lockhart.”

“Please, call me Gilderoy,” he requested.

“Gilderoy,” you reached your hand out to shake his, “you can call me Y/N.” His smile changed, not one that you've seen in magazines and papers, but a more humble one. His cheeks became a bit rosy and he looked like he was flustered. “So, how have you been?” he asked. You took a quick sip of the water that was on the table before continuing the conversation, “I’ve been good! Just been working all the time. How about you? I bet so many great things have been going with you?”

“Not really. Since I didn't know much about my life before I was admitted in, I didn't know where to start. So I lived with my mother for a while, but now I’m on my own.” Seeing Gilderoy be so humble was a sight to see. A once self-centered, proud man has turned into a sweet, kind one. You almost wanted to thank whoever did this to him, not knowing it was actually Gilderoy who had accidentally done this to myself. “Well, are you working right now?” you asked him.

“No, I don’t really have anything to offer,” he looked down.

“That’s not true, you…” you stopped to think about what it was that Gilderoy could do. And unfortunately, it wasn't much. When word had gone out that he had actually stolen credit for all the things he had claimed to have done, people wondered if he was good at anything.

Gilderoy laughed at your blank expression. You felt bad. “Well, I’m sure you’re good at something.” You patted his shoulder gently across the table. Your friends came back from the restroom after what felt like twenty minutes. “Oh! It’s Gilderoy Lockhart, so nice to meet you,” each of them shook his hand. “What brings you here?”

Suddenly, he was embarrassed to say that he was spending weeks trying to find you. “Oh, I was just around. I walked inside and recognized Y/N. Thought I’d say hello,” he felt a bit nervous at that moment. “Well I best be going. I don't want to intrude. Have a good evening.” Gilderoy was about to leave until one of your friends called out for him, “No, stay! I’m sure Y/N would love to catch up with you, isn't that right?” You weren't sure if it would be appropriate to hang out with a former patient. Sure, it’s been a couple years since then, but you've never had any patients become even acquaintances, let alone friends. But the look in Gilderoy’s eyes that were basically begging you to say ‘yes’ hit something in you. “If you’re not doing anything else tonight, I'm sure we would like your company tonight.”

Gilderoy was funnier than he seemed to be. Being one of the Healers that worked with him for nearly four years, you never knew about this. He was telling the story of the first time he had used the levitation spell during his adult classes and he accidentally made his professor levitate and not the inanimate object on the table. Slightly tipsy, you and your friends laughed so hard trying to picture the situation. Gilderoy said he panicked and when he tried to let him down, the professor fell from ten feet in the air on his head and passed out. Luckily, he wasn't kicked out to the class but it was certainly something the professor never let him live down.

By the end of the night, your friends had gotten plastered and left for home. You were fine; your tipsy state was gone. You made sure your friends were set in the cab and told the cabbie their addresses. Gilderoy stood behind you and watched as you took care of your friends. It was different than when you worked, but it brought back memories when you took care of him.

When the cab drove off, you turned to look at the blond man. “Well, it was great seeing you, Mr. Lock– Gilderoy,” you quickly corrected yourself. You nodded and started walking down the street before he called for you again. “W-would you like to take a walk?” You thought about it, the same thought from earlier. But you've already shared a few drinks with him, so a walk wouldn't hurt. The sky was clear and although the stars were faint, there were a couple large ones that you could point out. You walked in silence for a couple minutes until you spoke up, “The weather’s nice.” He nodded quietly. It wasn't odd for him, but it was for you. It was odd to see him not as talkative as he used to be. You supposed that when you have your memories wiped, your personality could be affected as well. But he was still somewhat himself when he was a patient, so this change must have happened in the past two years. You hoped that nothing bad happened in that time.

It was getting later and later, but something about Gilderoy was different and you liked being around this sort of new him. He’s more inviting compared to how he was when he was a celebrity. The feeling of it being weird with him outside of work was gone, and something else started. You wanted to get to know him as a person again.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and decided that you should head home eventually. “It was nice seeing you tonight. I hope to see you again,” you grinned. His eyes lit up as he looked at you, “I would love that. Maybe we can have tea sometime?”

“I’d like that. Goodnight, Gilderoy.”

“Good night, Y/N.” He signaled a cab for you and like he did the last time, he waved until he couldn't see you anymore.

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