#no tears were shed even though this is out of my comfort zone

[knifeforkspooncup]

1967: The Velvet Underground releases their first bebop album. Radio pulsars (neutron stars) are discovered. Britain decriminalizes homosexuality.

And somewhere in Soho a demon gets cockblocked by an angel.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #68

Today was a very mixed bag.

This morning, I drove to the good place with all the nice people. The leader spoke on a great many very relevant things, such as challenging the status quo, distinguishing between that which is law and that which is just, and sitting with and trying to help all of the people whom society has tried to convinced us doesn't deserve it. The grammar and structure of the words has since crumbled and faded away from my mind, because I don't think in language at all, but the meaning remains in my mind, as well as the memory of the tears that were shed; I'm aware that at least some of what I've been trying to do is seen and understood by this very amazing person.

I tried to conduct myself in the space a little differently than I usually do. Typically, my presence in any space is a meek one that tries to stay out of the way. But this time, I walked as though I belong there, and mingled with others as though I am also deserving of taking up space. Just to try to push myself even further out of my comfort zone, today I sat at the "old men's" table (there aren't really assigned tables, it's just that there are folks that tend to gather together because they can easily relate to one another) as though I also belonged there, with the intention of listening to them speak to one another and seeing what I could learn. Imagine my shock when they talked to me as though my voice is one worth hearing!! I wasn't really sure what to do or how to behave in response to such a thing, but I did the best I could to try to contribute, even if I felt clumsy and foolish in the process.

At one point, towards the end, one of them said, as a joke, "Drive carefully home; I know how you women like to be speed demons, haha!" I tried to think of something witty and lighthearted to come back with, but the best I could do was smile bashfully. If only I remembered at the time the line that goes, "Ha! I am a woman in the same way that a tomato is a fruit!"

…I happen to live in a female body. But I don't really think about my gender most of the time. It fluctuates wildly between "none" and "yes". I'll take any pronoun, but the one I typically use for myself in my own mind is "it". But this alarms people, and I'm comfortable with letting people use whatever they see when they look at me, so… it's all good, I guess.

I stopped at Eggcellent on the way home. Some time ago, I had asked them if they might keep a QR code of the petition I made for you where folks can see it. Apparently, though, the people did not thoroughly read the blurb that came along with the QR code, and so they scanned it, thinking that it would lead them to a petition for a real-life human being. Their response, when they saw you, according to the kindly shopkeep, was, "Are you kidding me?" Essentially, disbelief and disgust. So naturally, the kindly shopkeeps had to stop displaying the QR code. I'm glad they stopped if this was how people were responding; I don't want to be bad for business.

But all the same… I have no idea how it is the case that so few people understand that the way your story ends is going to affect everyone here whose circumstances are similar to yours. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that recovery is possible. It will affect how many of us will be able to believe that we are worth the effort involved with recovery. It will affect whether or not other people will be able to imagine that people like me and like others who I love are worthy of kindness, mercy, and help.

The way stories are told in my world shapes what people believe is and is not possible, on a MASS SCALE. Part of the reason why people still believe places like India are undeveloped, backwater places even though they're not is because that's how they're portrayed in stories in my world. Part of the reason why people still treat certain kinds of people as they do is because of how they're portrayed in books, movies, TV, comics, and song. Stereotypes persist in part because they are parroted over and over again by the song, art, and story that exists in our world. And stereotypes put a lot of nasty and totally arbitrary limitations on what people think that certain kinds of people deserve and are capable of.

So… my efforts to save you aren't just about you. My efforts are for every human in my world who is considered "different" or "fallen" in any way. Because we are not going to see peace in my world until every single one of us stops believing that there is a such thing as "kinds of people who are not worth compassion, kindness, decency, or help".

I want to live in a world where people can begin to imagine that even the most deeply fallen can get the help they need to rise up into wholeness again. Because if not even someone as amazing as you can be saved, what chance in hell do the rest of us have?

I ended up spiraling, though. Not because the kindly shopkeep took down the QR code, but because of what he said to me after the fact:

Some time ago, when I was working on one of the music boxes I made for you…

…there was a lady who came into the shop for the first time, asking what is good. The shopkeep told her a few things, and then went off to do something. I was excited to talk to someone who seems nice about a thing I loved, so I piped in with a couple of the things I like, and with a couple of things that weren't listed on the menu. She then asked about what I was doing, which was punching holes out on the music box. I asked her if she wanted to listen, and she said yes. So I ran the music box, and she told me that it was cool.

…Fast forward to today. The shopkeep told me that the lady knew it was my petition. Apparently, on the day we met, the lady found me weird, rude, and repulsive. She apparently thought that it was disrespectful of me that I spoke to her at all (apparently because "she wasn't talking to me"), and because she didn't actually want anything to do with my music box, but asked about it and said yes to listening to it anyway because she "didn't want to be mean". So I guess I left such a negative and intensely strange impression on her back then that when she felt disgust at the petition, she immediately knew it was mine.

And gosh, what a thing to have to sit with. Can you imagine it? The notion that I can frighten, anger, and disgust people just by existing in a space, talking joyfully about bubble tea, and showing a music box I made to someone who asked about it? I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to take from this. On the one hand, I have the shopkeep telling me that the woman thought I am a bad, wrong, and disgusting thing, but in the same breath, he is telling me that "she should have said no if she didn't want to hear it", and "you are kind and you don't bother anybody and you should just be yourself". I understand, of course, that he must ride a careful balance between customers so that he doesn't lose anyone. But ya know… the notion that perhaps I might cause them to struggle by scaring customers off just by being myself is just… wow.

Of course, I am not at all angry with him for this. Rather, I'm glad he told me. I'm glad to be made aware that my presence makes others feel very uncomfortable. I'm glad to be told that I should continue to be myself… even if it comes with the unspoken implication that I had better go do it somewhere else where no one else has to deal with it, I guess.

The fact remains, of course, that just by existing, I scare people. Even if what I'm trying to do is exude love and joy, I still scare people. And I'm not really sure how it is that I manage to be so bad at trying to do good things that I am misunderstood to this extent, but… well. And also this is coming right after I resolve to act as though I belong in this world even though all signs point to the notion that I… don't. And maybe never will.

…If unaliving is a trigger for you, you might wanna skip this paragraph. But… ya know. I spent a good chunk of time today considering the merits of lying down in a cold puddle, forcibly inducing sleep, and letting the hypothermia take care of the job while I'm out. We have nature trails just a five minute walk from my house. It's winter, and there are lots of big puddles back there; I know where they are, and there's also no shortage of ravens, crows, coyotes, and foxes to feed. It's probably good that I don't have ready access to the kinds of medicines that would induce sleep.

…But. This sort of thinking is just the old wiring and the old conditioning rearing its ugly head in response to my past trauma. Old messages that go something like, "Nobody fucking asked you to speak, MAGGOT," and "Why can't you have normal interests and hobbies, you embarrassing sicko freak?" At this point, because stuff similar to this has been said to me so many times, it doesn't take much for my brain to interpret this stuff, even if it's not said directly. That's just how PTSD is. That's how it works.

But I don't have to surrender to it. I got knocked on my ass today from it, but I don't have to stay on the ground. I can get back up and see what's next. I can use REBT. I can ask the people around me for help. I can listen as the people who love me gently point out destructive, spiraling patterns in my thinking, so that I can stop myself for long enough to come up for air. I can hydrate and eat wholesomely so that my brain can have what it needs to manage the destructive thoughts and the painful emotions triggered from them. I don't have to remain on my knees and believe every nasty thing said about me by someone who is too miserable to see the beauty, joy, and love being offered to them for what it is. I can refuse to allow the voices of the people who don't understand me to be louder in my mind than the voices of those who love me.

I am different from other people, and sometimes this is a lonely thing that hurts very much. But it's easy for me to have love for others who are different. Love for you. Love for Frankenstein's Monster. Love for Mewtwo. Love for Magus. Love for all of my friends and chosen family, who themselves are misfits that society at large does not seem to want. I still love them all, even though society tells me I shouldn't. I can love me, too, even though society tells me that I shouldn't.

…"Conventional wisdom" is such a thing. There are some very good things about it, like, "Sticking a fork in your mouth and then sticking the prongs of that fork into an electrical socket just to see what happens is a very bad idea." And, things like, "Do NOT, under ANY circumstances, attempt to eat Rice Krispie Treats immediately after taking them out of the oven if you value the flesh on the inside of your mouth." Or, "Do not squirt hot glue into the palm of your left hand for the sake of impressing a girl." Or, related, "You cannot try to scrape hot glue off of the palm of your hand with your other hand and expect it to turn out well." And finally, "Try to avoid prioritizing yelling at your glue-covered hands over making use of the cold water in the sink that is immediately to your left."

(do not worry - these are not things that I have done; I've met some very interesting people in the course of my living who help me to avoid finding these things out the hard way, hahaha!)

But it can also tell us a lot of very false things. Things like, "You must remain connected with your family regardless of how they abuse you." Things like, "You should expect certain kinds of people to always act in this certain kind of way." Things like, "These particular kinds of people are all bad and you should stay away from them." Things like, "If everyone is 'mistreating' you, well the common denominator is you, so the problem must be you and not how others are treating you." And things like, "Certain kinds of people do not deserve kindness, help, or even basic decency."

So… I can only conclude that "conventional wisdom" needs to be taken VERY critically, and with ALL the grains of salt. But I think a good rule of thumb for evaluation is this notion: "Anything that is said with cruel, dehumanizing, and unloving intentions is false."

I'm not at risk of prematurely exiting my meat-mech, don't worry. I just tripped up a little today, that's all. And you know what? Ultimately, that's a good thing, because today, I watched myself get back up on my feet from it faster than what I was able to do previously. Sometimes we can't see all the progress we've made until weird things happen and we find ourselves recovering from them faster than we have in the past. So in this sense, even falling down is worth something!

I'm gonna get a snack and play some DDR to try to speed up my recovery even more. So I'll end this here-ish.

Hey, Sephiroth!! No matter how many times you fall down, and no matter how far you fall down, you can get back up! You just gotta let the voices attached to the hands reaching out to help be louder than the voices trying to tell you that you're a monster who doesn't belong! No matter how many voices scream unloving things at you, you gotta understand that such things can only be screamed at us from a place of pain, and nobody is acting in accordance with what's true or in accordance with their innermost nature when they are acting from a place of pain! So let the loving things be louder to your mind and to your ears. Let the loving things be louder, and let them spur you on to move forward, confident in the knowledge that you belong here, no matter what anyone else says.

You are loved. Please stay safe. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[ourtearsofrain]

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 13

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka, (barely a mention of) Josh Kiszka x Male O.C.

Genre: angst, brotherly fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count:  2.1k

Warnings: Josh reality checks Sam and gives him lore about himself that is ouchie

--------------------------------------------------------

August 21st, 9:49 AM

“Hey, man.” Josh prods Danny in the ribs after he doesn’t respond, having been zoned out staring at the small tray table before him, his legs folded uncomfortably in the small airplane seat so that his knees were touching the bottom of the table. “Danny?”

“Hm?” He rips his eyes from the surface, turning his head slowly until Josh’s face twisted with concern comes into view.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t acting like it.”

“I’m just tired, didn’t get good sleep last night.”

“Bullshit.” Josh says the word louder than he intended, receiving an angry look from an elderly woman across the isle from him. “I know you snuck off with Sam last night, and he came back at like three AM with red, puffy eyes. He wouldn’t tell me jack shit though, and he- he didn’t get up to say goodbye to me or Jake before we left.”

He didn’t even say goodbye to his brothers? “Fine.” Danny’s voice cracks as his memories of the night before flood his mind, tears beginning to brew at his waterline. “He told me he loved me.”

“What did you do?!”

“I told him I loved him too and- and we kissed.”

“That’s fantastic!” Josh smiles wide before his mind catches up to him, wiping it from his face instantly. “Why was he crying then?”

“He- he told me we could make long distance work. I can’t do that, not after already waiting all these years to just hear him say those words. I begged him to come with me to New York, but he chose Frankenmuth over me.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah.” Danny puts no emotion into his tone, his voice flat to prevent his tears. “I yelled at him, said so many mean things but- but we both knew that I wasn’t wrong.”

“Talk to him, please.”

“No, Josh. I tried that and look where that got us. Besides, I told him not to bother calling or texting cause I was blocking him.”

“Have you?”

The question completely blindsides Danny, his eyes wide as he looks at Josh before an expression of anguish passes over his face. “No. I’ve tried so many times but I can’t- I can’t bring myself to do it.” He dissolves into a fit of tears as his hands move to his face, muffling his cries on the packed plane.

“Oh, Danny…” Josh moves immediately, putting the arm rest between them up to wrap his arms around the other man and pull him into a comforting embrace. His hands move up and down Danny’s back as he holds him, saying nothing more and letting him shed all the tears he needed. Finally, Danny pulls away, his face red as he wipes his cheeks dry. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No.” Danny shakes his head frantically, his hands gripping one of Josh’s. “Please, please don’t. We- we had our final fight, and now I need to move on. I can move on now, but I can’t do that if he’s still in my life.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright… I promise I’ll stay out of this, I won’t call him about it. I’m- I’m sorry it ended this way, Danny.”

“Me too.” The pair say nothing more for the rest of their flight, barely speaking a sentence or two to each other as they leave the airport in New York. As soon as Josh locks the door of their apartment behind him, Danny’s already escaped to his room, his own door closing quietly as Josh’s shoulders drop.

What the fuck am I going to do about this?

--------------------------------------------------------

September 19th, 1:20 PM

It had been four weeks and two days since Danny had spoken to Sam. Four weeks and two days since he had felt fully whole. And four weeks and two days full of regret. Danny didn’t regret saying what he said to Sam. In a way, it was as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. This time, it wasn’t his actions that he regretted, it was Sam’s.

Every time he saw something that reminded him of Sam, he felt a pang in his chest, like he had left his heart behind in Frankenmuth. This ranged from having his day soured from his professor barely mentioning Star Trek, to cursing himself out when he passed a small boutique he knew Sam would love; a loose silk button up in the window that just screamed his name. Danny finally snapped when he ran home to sob in his room after he spaced out on the subway and ended up under Grand Central’s ceiling of constellations. In truth, Danny was barely keeping it together, motioning through his lectures and assignments mindlessly. If he allowed himself to think, his mind always wandered back to Sam.

Through all this, he hoped and prayed that Sam felt everything he was feeling a thousand-fold. He hoped that Sam couldn’t leave his house without crying as he passed the Wagner house, looming over him like a dark cloud every time he had to walk past it. He hoped every time he brought a cigarette to his lips, he would think of the one they shared camping. That he would taste Danny’s lips. He wanted to follow Sam for the rest of his life as a reminder, a ghost, of what he almost had. What he could have had. Danny knew one way or another that he would never be able to fully get rid of Sam, he could never make himself forget no matter how hard he tried. He just hoped that one day, his memories wouldn’t hurt this much.

--------------------------------------------------------

September 23rd, 12:33 PM

“Josh, I fucked up.”

“What happened to, ‘Hello, O brother of mine, I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye before you left again even though we spent every day of the summer together’? And yeah, you did. What’s wrong with you? Why’ve you waited over a month to finally talk to one of us?” Josh’s voice is flat, trying to keep his frustration at Sam out of his tone.

“I’m sorry about that. I needed- I needed time to process everything. And Danny told you?”

“Yes, Samuel. Danny fucking told me. What were you thinking?!” He spits, trying to keep his voice low, afraid that Danny would hear him across the apartment. Technically, Josh wasn’t breaking his promise. Sam had called him first, not the other way around. And for once in his life, Sam was the one to start the conversation topic even though it was so personal and serious, even if it had taken him over a month.

“I don’t know! I didn’t expect him to actually reciprocate feelings and I- I thought we could make long distance work…”

“Sam.” Josh lets out a frustrated sigh, bringing his hand to his temple in an attempt to keep himself calm. “I know Danny already ripped you a new one, so I won’t yell at you.”

“Thanks.” He can practically see Sam rolling his eyes over the phone, knowing that even though HE had been the one to call Josh for help, he was bound to get annoyed at his advice no matter what.

“Wanna know what I think?”

“Please do enlighten me, Joshua.”

“Cut the sass, I’m trying to help. If you didn’t want my opinion, you shouldn’t have called me. Anyway, I think you need to grow a pair and leave Frankenmuth. And fucking apologize to Danny. Face to face.”

“Jesus Christ, again with the leaving. You both know I can’t.”

“Why?” Josh doesn’t try to hide the frustration in his tone this time, not caring enough anymore to keep his feelings from Sam for his sake. “Give me one good reason that isn’t just ‘I can’t’ and I’ll never try to convince you again.”

“I-” Sam cuts himself off, his words failing him as he tries to find any reason, any reason at all, to stay.

“That’s what I thought. You’ve never had a reason to stay, Sam, you’re just too goddamn stubborn to change your opinion after all these years.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling, you don’t want to see me yelling. I’m just giving you a reality check. Why do you keep refusing to leave?”

“I- I feel bad. Leaving mom and dad, everything and everyone I’ve known. And I’m scared, what if I fail, what if I don’t like it and I’m just not cut out for the real world?”

“Did I ever tell you how it felt when I left? When I got into an out of state college before Jake did?”

“No? Why?”

“Of course I didn’t.” Josh takes a deep breath, preparing to tell him something he had never told anyone else before, not even Jake, Danny, or Austin. “I cried myself to sleep every night in the months leading up to leaving. And for months after I moved here too. I felt like I was abandoning everyone I loved most. Jake, Danny, mom and dad, and- and you. I felt like a horrible person for knowing I needed to get out of Frankenmuth. I hated myself for so long, Sammy. Every single goddamn day until I realized that no one was mad at me. While you all may have been upset and sad I was gone, I knew that- that in the end, you all would be happy I took that step. And I realized that I did the right thing, no matter how much it hurt. As much as I love Frankenmuth, I knew that I would never have a future there, a career, a life. I feel like you know that’s true for you, too. If I hadn’t moved here, I couldn’t have found a major that I loved, and that’s setting me up for an amazing job here. I wouldn’t have gotten so unbelievably close with Danny, and I wouldn’t have met Austin.”

“Do you have any regrets?” To Josh, Sam sounded utterly broken, his voice worn and uneven as if he had been crying for hours. Josh knew that his words finally made Sam understand that he needed to leave, and he knew from experience how that felt; like his entire world was collapsing right on top of him.

“No. I’m broke, still looking for a job I can apply my degree to, and I will probably never be able to afford housing alone here. But I’m happy. I’m- I’m so happy here, Sammy. I’ve made this my home, I’ve found a family. I have all I could ever want, and I know that it’s more than I could have ever found in Frankenmuth.”

“What do I do?” Sam’s voice breaks as he begins to sob, sending a lump to Josh’s throat as he listens to his little brother’s pain, trying to keep the tears from his own eyes.

“Take control of your life, Sammy. Live for you, not anyone else. If you want to move to New York, then we’ll be right here for you. But make that choice on your own, not based off anyone else’s opinions of where you’d be happiest. This is your life Sam, you have control of where it goes. And you need to start living, not just existing or surviving.”

“Ok-” He takes a heavy breath, sniffing before the sound of rustling filters through Josh’s speaker, as if he were moving around to dry his tears and pull himself together. “I- I need time to figure it out.”

“Of course. This isn’t something you can just figure out overnight, take all the time you need. And I’m here for you, whatever you need. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“Thank you. Can I- can I visit soon? Stay at your place? It might help and- and I need to apologize to Danny, face to face like you said.”

“Please do. Whenever you find time, we’ll make it work. I’ve been wanting to show you around the city for so long, introduce you to Austin. You’re gonna love him, Sammy.”

“I bet. Ok, I’m- I’m gonna go think, work out a way to get to you and when. I’ll text you when I figure that out.”

“Sounds good, like I said we’ll make anything work.”

“Thanks. And Josh? Thank you, for everything you said. I needed it, it helped more than you can know and I’m- I’m so grateful and lucky to have you as a big brother.”

“Oh, fuck you, I was holding it together until now.” Both men laugh through their tears, letting themselves fully feel this calm after the storm for a moment longer until the reality that Sam had major decisions to make sets into him, stifling his laughter as anxiety creeps into his mind.

“Alright well, I should go, like I said I have so much to think about.”

“You got this Sammy, it’s not as scary as it seems. I’m here if you need, any time, any day.”

“Thanks again, I love you, Josh.”

“Love you too, Sammy. Hope to see you soon.”

--------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @sanguinebats @theres-a-tvjoe @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @currentlyfangirling10

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Hi! could you maybe do more of Florence being pregnant? they are the cutest stories to read, and i dont see alot of them, sadly enough. But if you do, thank you!<3

btw i love your work!!

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻

paring: mum!florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): pregnant flo, fluff, r being worried about being a mother, flo reassuring r <3

warning(s): pregnancy (?), grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.3k

note: I feel like this is similar to 'Little Daisy' but also different (?), I tried my best. I'm having a majors writer block so if you guys have any requests please send them in. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you like it, nonnie <3

note 2: HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN THE PICTURES OF FLO WITH ANDREW???!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

At first you didn’t notice the changes in Florence’s body, even though they were right there, hiding in plain sight. 

It all started with the nauseas. You thought she had a virus but a quick visit to the doctor told you otherwise. She wasn’t sick at all, she was full of life. A tiny human was growing inside of her. 

Your eyes winded once the doctor gave the both of you the news, horror and confusion and anxiety on your face. Florence, on the other hand, had the biggest smile on hers, her eyes sparkling at the doctor's statement. 

You tried to pretend everything was fine, you faked a small smile and quizzed her hand in assurance. But as soon as she and the doctor got to talking about her body and the baby, you zoned out, taking in the information. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to have a baby, no, that wasn't the problem. You would love nothing more than to form a family with her, but you weren’t sure if you were ready. A baby was a huge deal, it was a human being after all. They need to be taken care of, and you weren’t sure if you would be able to do that. One thing was taking care of yourself, another thing was taking care of Florence, and taking care of a baby was a whole other thing. 

Florence didn’t notice your odd behaviour until the both of you got in the car and you were still silent. She then realised that since the doctor had told the both of you the news you hadn’t said a word. 

“Y/n, baby, is everything okay?” she placed her hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it in reassurance. 

You looked at her, tears burning your eyes. 

“Baby, what is it?” the look on your face worried her instantly, her hand found your cheek trying to comfort you. You leaned into her touch. 

“I just, I don’t if I can do this, Flo,” you whispered, not actually wanting her to hear you. 

She looked so happy when she found out she was pregnant, you didn’t want to take that away from her. You didn’t want to disappoint her. 

“You mean the baby?”, she asked softly, not wanting to scare you more than you already were. 

You slowly nodded your head. “I just, I don’t think I will be good at it. I’m going to fuck up, and I don’t want that for them. I don’t want them to be like me, I won’t do that to them,” the tears you tried so badly to stop from shedding were now rolling down your cheeks. 

“Y/n, listen to me. I get it, it’s scary, it’s new. You have every right to feel like this, but hear my words. You are the most incredible human being I ever had the pleasure to meet. This baby would be the luckiest baby on earth to have you as their mother. And I would love nothing more than for them to be exactly like you. Because you are everything, Y/n. You are kind, you’re funny, you are loyal, compassionate, courageous. You are the most marvellous person I have ever met,” she gently wiped your tears. “And you are not alone, baby. I know we can do this, okay? I wouldn't want anyone else to share this baby with. I know we didn’t plan this, but maybe it’s meant to be,” she pressed her forehead against yours. 

“Flo, I’m just so scared.”

“I know, baby. I know. But, hey, we have about six more months before they are here. We have plenty of time to figure our shit out,” she joked. 

A giggle escaped from your lips.

“We got this, okay?”

“Okay.” 

She gently pressed her lips against yours, wanting nothing more than to kiss all your worries and fears away. 

[...]

“Holy shit,” you gasped. 

“I know right?” she smiled at you. 

Your hand was on her now 6 month belly, feeling the strong kick of your child. Billie, laying beside Florence on the bed, was also paying attention to the little kicks of the tiny human growing inside her owner. 

“His kicks are so strong.” 

“Yeah. Wait,” she looked up at you. “His?” she raised her eyebrow at you. 

“Yeah, he’s definitely a he.”

“And how would you know that?” she playfully smacked your arm. 

“I just have a feeling.”

“Well, since I’m the one carrying the child I know for a fact that he is in fact a she.” 

You shook your head.” No, it’s a boy. But it doesn’t matter, as long as he is healthy I don't’ care what he is,” you placed a soft kiss on her belly. 

“Or what she is.”

“Whatever they are, right Billie?” she heard your calling and barked at you. “See, she knows I’m right. Billie can also feel it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Florence threw a pillow at you. A smile formed on her lips. 

Her heart warmed everytime you would talk about the baby with so much love in your eyes, knowing that you finally admitted to yourself that you were going to be great at motherhood. 

“What about Matthew?” 

“For the baby?” you nodded. “Even if it was a boy, which isn’t the case, we are not naming our child after some dude with a vigilante complex, Y/n.”

“Oh, come on. Matt is a great lawyer and a great dude. This baby would be lucky to be named after him.” 

She squinted your eyes at you, not sure if you were being serious or not. 

“Okay, Matthew is a nice name,” she gave in. “But that doesn’t mean it a yes, okay?” you pouted. “Don’t give me that look, Y/n. I said I’ll think about it,” she smacked the pillow into your face once again. 

“Stop doing that,” you chuckled, snatching the pillow from her hands. 

“What about Primrose?” she tried. 

You sent her a death glare. “Just because your name is flower related doesn’t mean our child’s should also be.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Okay, new rule. If flower names are discarded, so are marvel names.”

“You monster,” you pretend to be shot in the heart. “Okay, deal,” you shook hands. 

Florence grabbed her phone looking for baby names, you took advantage of the fact that she was now distracted, leaned into her belly and whispered only for the baby to hear. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll make sure you have a cool name, even if it isn’t Matthew.”

Florence bit her bottom lip trying to hide the smile creeping on her lips. 

[...]

“What do you think about Robin?” you whispered, trying not to wake up the small human being in your arms. Your eyes never left their tiny body, so fragile yet so strong and healthy. 

It had been about 17 hours since you and Florence arrived at the hospital, 5 hours since she started to give birth to your child, and now 10 minutes since you first held them in your arms. 

You were slowly swinging them back and forth, trying to keep them calm. But also soothing yourself. You felt like you were going to explode any minute, not just by excitement and love for the tiny baby in your arms. But also anxiety and worry. But, somehow, the moment your skin made contact with theirs, every doubt you had ever had just washed away. 

Florence felt immensely happy, not only had she finally met her first born, but she got to share the moment with you. Her eyes got watery as she watched you rocking back and forth the tiny human. She couldn't believe you had ever doubted yourself. 

“Robin?”

“Yeah, it means bright, shining.”

“You sure it’s not a marvel character's name?” she playfully asked. 

“I, um…” you trailed off. 

“I like it,” she knew it was a marvel character’s name, but she didn’t care. “Our little Robin,” she smiled at you. 

“Hey, little Robin,” you whispered to the baby, tears burning your eyes.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[makshu]

Ok so this is going to be another analyze about Osomatsu (because yes and because I have it in mind and I need to write it down before I forget)

I'll talk about Osomatsu's relationship with crying and sad moments in general, long post after cut

(Oh and- at some point I got lost so none of this probably makes sense- read at your own risk)

I think by this point everyone knows that Osomatsu is a somewhat a complicated person- and if you can please try to remember a time when you saw him crying... hard right? I know-

Off the top of my head I remember three times he cried (maybe I'll remember more later), two of those times were with a comedy proposal so they won't count here, and the last one was a time when he was really sad (was panicked better saying-)

So I have a vision of Osomatsu that I'd like to share (even though I'm not sure if it's 100% right) ok so- He never cries, it's hard to find a moment where he cries for whatever reason, and like- not like Jyushi, Jyushimatsu also has few crying moments, but that's because he is almost never shown being sad, but when these sad moments occur he allow himself to be sad and cry, and I know that there are people who are simply less cry than others and I strongly believe that Osomatsu and Jyushimatsu are two of those cases, but still, they remain human and still cry, but Osomatsu seems to refuse to do that sometimes-

I'll take as an example a situation where he appeared (or in this case really) to be sad which is ep 24 S1. We know that whole situation shook Oso, and as a gift they didn't show his face almost once, he has his back turned the whole time making it difficult to see his full face, only from the nose down was visible and since eyes are a very expressive part of our body we ended up missing a lot of his real emotions, but I'm sure he didn't cried there (he doesn't cry normally, in front of others so it's a complete no for him) but what about when he was off screen? I'm sure he shed a few tears at those times, or worse- had a panic attack (as he's shown himself to be prone to having them), the point is- he looks like he doesn't want to cry, he seems to have a little trouble expressing that kind of emotion and crying must be something he represses.

Osomatsu is the type of person who will laugh at a bad situation and make fun of his problems, but deep down he is agonizing over them. He doesn't want to cry. But why? Perhaps to be an example of a strong older brother? Or because it doesn't suit his character? Oso has already shown that he has problems with his identity, and if he tries so hard to remain in the comfort zone and with the personality he always had, crying is not something that suits the little troublemaker, the older brother, the leader. Not being ok is a horrible situation for him, he doesn't want to feel bad and doesn't know how to react to this type of situation, so he just "stops working" and stands there with its blank face, he won't cry even if sometimes he wants to.

Crying is good and it's a way to let out everything you've been holding back, and Osomatsu has been holding back a lot over these three seasons (+ the movie), after he had a panic attack at the beginning of S3 I think it's an indication that something is not right (I assume crying in a panic attack is normal, so yeah-) I don't think there's a confirmed reason why this happened to him but we can speculate on some things (which I won't do in this post), but anyway he needs help ASAP

I think that's it. I missed this post several times so it sucked to write it all down and at some point (at the beginning) I got lost so if you got something wow congrats (seriously- congrats because even I didn't get it) if anyone wants to add feel free to reblog this thing

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi! If you're still taking matchup requests could I please get one for LOTR and The Hobbit? Thanks so much 😊

I would probably prefer a male ship, and I go by she/her pronouns. I'm autistic with scoliosis and chronic joint pain that affects every joint in my body, from my hands to my ankles. I'm honestly not very good at taking care of myself because I often forget to eat and have a hard time letting myself rest even when I'm in pain. I'm really short like 4' 10" tall (142 cm) with long wavy brown hair and glasses. I don't feel comfortable leaving the house without a veil (bandana) or my Mjolnir necklace on.

I'm a witch whose main focus is on working with different spirits. I'm also currently planning to study Greek so I can go to college for Anthropology and study Mediterranean and Eastern European folk magic. My other hobbies include sewing, writing, journaling and drawing.

I'm very witty and good at making people laugh. I am very friendly and very sweet and I try really hard to be a good person, but if I feel wronged or like you've hurt someone I love I can actually become quite cold. I love people but I'm also an introvert who needs my space to just sit and zone out. I'm very very knowledgeable about a huge array of different things. I'm a big believer that humanity has the capacity for good and I love telling stories.

Thanks so much love, I hope you have a spectacular day/night! Take care of yourself and remember to drink lots of water!

Hello! Thank you for requesting a matchup! I am excited for you to see this bad boy ;) I hope you like it <33333

---

---

Lord Of The Rings;

Samwise Gamgee:

🥔 You met Sam when he and his Hobbit friends went to Rivendell for figuring out who's going to take the ring to Mordor; you lived in Rivendell, being great friends with Lord Elrond, (you had pretty cool witchy powers that helped Elrond sometimes)

🥔 While the meeting was going on, you wandered a bit with Sam, he seemed a bit bored hanging around and waiting so you offered him some company; you both go to know each other, you learned that Sam loved gardening and plants in general, and Sam found out that you liked to write and draw

🥔 You had to stay back with Elrond when Sam went with Frodo and the other Fellowship members, but Sam promised that after the ring was destroyed, he'd come and see you before he went home; you both felt an incredibly strong connection between the two of you, and you had shed a few tears for Samwise The Brave as he left

🥔 After Sam got back, you reunited and spoke the entire time he was waiting for Frodo to wake up; Sam told you all about what happened and all the orcs he faced, you couldn't help but smile as he told you everything

🥔 It was hard for Sam to leave you, so he asked if you wanted to come with him, and of course, you said yes; there, Sam cooked you the best foods, (for lunch, dinner, tea time, elevensies, and whenever), he is always there to remind you to eat and rest, (which he cleaned out a storage room for you to have as a resting room whenever you got overstimulated and need to rest in peace and quiet, (such a little gentleman <3)

---

The Hobbit;

Bilbo Baggins:

🌱 You met Bilbo when you were trying to get all the Dwarves to stop tossing his dishes around, even though none of them broke, you were worried about the Hobbit, you and your Dwarven friends had basically barged in and you felt pretty bad for that; you did apologize to Bilbo many times, offering to clean up after they were all done eating, (you knew that they were going to make a huge mess), and Bilbo was like (ू•ᴗ•��)

🌱 You also helped Bilbo when he fainted, bringing him to his chair as you waved your hand to fan him, asking Ori to be a dear and bring you a glass of water for the poor Hobbit; when Bilbo awoke, he was still (ू•ᴗ•ू) and thought you were so pretty and sweet (please don't smile at him, you'll give him a heart attack)

🌱 Finally on the journey to the mountain, you rode alongside Bilbo, you both talking about everything and anything, from his love for peace and quiet and you agreeing, to your love for writing, and him agreeing; Bilbo is really interesting in all your interests, especially when you told him that you were a witch (you've bewitched him)

🌱 Bilbo also becomes quite protective of you as the days and nights go by, from making sure you have something to eat when dinner is made over the fire, and making sure you are taking breaks when you need them, and even cuddling you at night if you are too cold, (he asks first, he's such a gentleman); you fell deeper in love with the Hobbit after you had lost your favorite Mjolnir necklace during an orc fight, and Bilbo searched the grass until he found it for you, (now it was your turn to (ू•ᴗ•ू) your heart was a-fluttering)

🌱 Bilbo is in love, his heart skipping a beat with every little laugh you expel, his stomach filling up with beautiful blue butterflies, he always sighs dreamily when he thinks of you; you are obviously in love as well, obsessed with his little curls, the way his nose twitches when he's thinking or otherwise, and when he cares so much for your mental and physical well-being, you can't get over him

---

[harkingspot]

jrand: holy matrimony

since i have the unfortunate inability to write a full-on PROPER fanfic. please have this strangely formatted fic thing??? *hands this to you* WEDDING DAY JRAND!!!

(super angst and sad, i mean when is it NEVER)

it was a beautiful day. a beautiful ceremony for two beautiful people. everyone was happy... well not everybody

jr scheimpough was going through a crazy rollercoaster of emotions- he was supposed to be happy, HIS BEST FRIEND WAS GETTING MARRIED!!!

but god why did it hurt so bad??

as everyone started to show up, all he could do was sit down and gaze at his own reflection from the wine he’d been carelessly swishing around

‘this shouldve been my ceremony. this was supposed to be us’ he thought dangerously. this was not the time, his brain scrambled to dig the thoughts deeper down

“have you seen rand anywhere?” snapping back from minutes of zoning out, the question grazed his ear. he was so engulfed in his own sadness he didnt bother to see who’d asked him

all he could think about now was: rand ridley

his best friend, the biggest asshole he’d ever met. it was hard to like him but it was even harder for jr to hate him

charismatic and smart. knew how to slither his way out of problems with his genius. he was someone he’d looked up to for a long time, though he could never admit it

he could never admit anything beyond his “joking-yet-not-joking” hatred towards his friend and partner

‘partner... oh how beautiful it’d be if the word business didn’t accompany it’ jr thought dangerously again.

this wasnt a time to be sad. his best friend was missing at his own wedding and he had to find him. though, in his defence, he’d been trying for years. to find rand ridley

“right yeah, ill go find him” without tearing his gaze away, jr stood up and began walking. mindlessly. he already knew where rand was

he was hiding. no. avoiding the altar

when jr found him, rand was shaking. pacing around. grunting. he’d never been this worried before. not even with the immense load of mistakes he’d made at cognito

he didn’t want to do this. rand ridley didn’t want to get married.

in rand’s mind, it was never about the commitment (though it really is) it was about himself. he’d never liked himself, which to be fair, there’s not many things about him TO like in the first place

“rand, what the hell are you doing?” “i can’t do this jay. im going to fuck this whole thing up. i always do- WHAT IF WE HAD CHILDREN??? I COULD NEVER-”

jr held his hand. tightly. an act of desperation, fearing to let his best friend go- hidden by an intimate gesture

“you can do this. sure you fuck things up a lot but you always find your way, that’s just who you are”

rand ridley didn’t want to get married. no that wasn’t right. rand ridley wanted it, but he wanted it with someone else. his best friend. scheimpough.

but it was too late...

a hug was all he could offer. neither could see it but both men longed for each other and it was written all over their face. 

in another time, this could’ve been their own ceremony. where they could invite nobody because nobody mattered. and all they had to do was drink, dance, sing loudly, and just... find comfort in one another.

but it was too late...

the ceremony was undoubtedly beautiful. pictures were taken. tears were shed, out of happiness and regret.

when the reception came, jr couldnt do it anymore. he reached his limits and it was time for him to go.

he delivered his speech, one full of fun anecdotes of their days in college and a few words about how he adored the man. that was the hardest part.

seeing rand be wedded to tamiko wasnt the hardest part for jr. the speech was, as he had to forcibly hold himself back from saying all the wrong things his mind could muster

he had to go and he had to go now. he didnt bother saying goodbye, not even to rand because it wasnt a goodbye- they were still partners remember? they still have time live side by side. just not together

on the drive home, he comforted himself: ‘and as long as the person you love is happy maybe you can be happy later’

the night was rough. jr made sure he didn’t drink too much at the party because he’d expected to drink much more at home. by himself, this time.

hours passed and he drank so much his liver had given up on begging for mercy

and it was that moment when he lied in bed starring at the ceiling, he turned to his phone that’d been blaring with notifications of multiple missed calls and messages from rand

“hey jay where are you?” “where did you go??” “did you go out for a smoke? im near the entrace can you see me?” “hello? jay pick up my call” “did you leave?” the thread of messages said

jr replied, out loud, to himself: “no, rand. you did. you left me” and blacked out

[avania1105]

Standing on the edge of becoming an OT

As a first-year OT student, I did not really understand what OT was about and many of my lecturers had said that OT will only make sense in third year and mind you, they were absolutely correct. My OT journey thus far has been a roller coaster, with lots of smiles, cheer, and laughter but also with many late nights and early mornings, breakdowns when things get overwhelming and stress from working in groups with uncooperative people ( but anyways that is a blog on its own, Hahaha :(: )

Over the years, I have learnt so much about OT and the various roles of OT's in psychiatric settings and physical settings. I do not have a preference yet because they both have pros and cons.

I have always been an introvert and studying OT has made me less of an introvert (not yet an extrovert though, lol). I have moved out of my comfort zone and tried lots of different things that I would not have normally tried such as sewing and woodwork. Sewing was one of my worst classes because bobbins kept getting stuck, needles were getting broken, and tears were being shed.

Thomas Edison once said, "Failure is the stepping stone to success." And that is true because with every failure we learn how to do it better and get it right the next time. However, it is important not to give up on the first try or the second or even the third try 😂👀. Every adversity, disappointment, and failure carries with it the seeds of success.  It just takes a little positive mental attitude and a commitment to keep trying.

Even though OT is a gratifying profession, it can sometimes be mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. Something that I have had to come to terms with, is the fact that A’s do not matter in university and that is something I struggled with a lot because for me doing well, was getting nothing less than 80% so when I was not achieving that, it started to affect me mentally and emotionally. This caused me to always be on overdrive, aiming for perfection and nothing less. Something that I realized is that University is not just about studying, studying, studying but it is also about making memories with your friends because there is a great chance that you may never get to experience this again. What I learnt from this is, it is okay to make mistakes and not get A’s but rather to enjoy every moment of my OT journey as a student and make the most of it.

Well, I am ¾ of an OT  and closer to the finish line than I am to the starting line. As scary as that may seem,  I am kind of embracing it, with open arms and looking forward to my future of graduating and becoming a qualified OT.

https://www.movingwithhope.org/posts/occupational-therapists-and-mental-health-interventions/

[judeswhore]

im kinda in my feelings atm, so some soft mason with prompt 14 (missed you kiss, i think that’s the number) would be everything; also sorry I can’t come up with a certain background but im sure you will make it amazing

number 14 from the kiss prompt list; missed you kiss

just a quick little welcome home mason blurb idk if this was the vibe u were going for i can totally do another if not BUT ENJOY

also i’m sorry that this is so late i hope love sick mason makes up for it

back in your arms - mason mount

Mason being away a lot was something you had to get used to in your relationship. He'd told you from the very start that he travelled more than the usual person and he'd been worried that it might place a strain of your relationship but you'd reassured him that you knew what his job entailed and it didn't change anything about the way you felt about him. There really was nothing that could change your feelings for him.

It didn't make it any easier when he was away though, you'd be constantly counting down the hours until he was due home, wearing only his clothes just to keep the smell of him close to you. The two of you would be texting constantly when you had minutes free and it was guaranteed that you'd get a good morning message at some point during the day depending on his time zone.

If you were both free when it was time for the other to sleep you'd always manage to facetime, your mood instantly lifting when you saw his face. Mason always liked to squeeze in a phone call or video call just before a match too, determined to use you for good luck.

If he'd been away for a longer stretch of time than usual and his flights lined up with your regular day you'd always get yourself out of any other commitments, work related or not, to meet him at the airport. You’d make him a little sign MASON MOUNT with a heart written in bold writing in the centre, grinning brightly as you stood and waited for him, some of the other teams family or partners waiting around you.

Mason would have no idea you were waiting for him, you’d told him that you couldn’t get out of your shift and that you’d meet him back at home so the look of

sheer surprise when he walked out into the group and spotted you would be enough to make you laugh. He’d stop dead in the walkway, eyes drinking you in, smile slowly stretching across his face. His eyes would sparkle and his heart felt ready to burst from his chest with so much love finally seeing you again.

He knew two weeks wasn’t really a long time, but being away from you felt like leaving half of him back here, he never quite felt whole. But seeing you again, your eyes so full of love, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, he felt that wash of calm that only you could provide settle over him. He felt all the anxiety and pressure slide from his shoulders because without even saying anything, just sending him that grin he adores so much, had him shedding half his burdens.

You would hardly let him put his duffel bag down on the floor before you were launching yourself at him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, face tucked firmly into the space between his shoulder and neck, exactly where you felt it belonged. Mason’s hands would wrap around your back, his own face pressed into your shoulder, unable to fight the grin he knew he’d be wearing for the rest of the day.

You’d breathe in his familiar comforting scent, mind reeling at the fact he was finally here, and you wouldn’t be able to hold back the flood of tears that started to flow down your cheeks. Mason would rest one hand on the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he held you as tight as he could, revelling in the fact that he could finally touch you after all those days apart. The jumper of yours he’d snuck into his suitcase had long since lost your familiar strawberry scent and his chest ached with being surrounded by it again.

You’d let out a choked sob against his neck, tightening your grip on him, fingers of one hand clasped into the back of his shirt. “Never leave me again.” You’d mumble against his skin and Mason would let out a soft laugh, nuzzling his head against the side of yours.

“Never.” You both knew of course that he’d be travelling again soon but the words held so much more meaning than that. Mason knew from those words that you’d been just as lost without him as he’d been without you and he soaked up the overwhelming feeling of love and need sparking off you.

Mason would slowly manage to coax your face out from his neck and settle you on the ground, his hands cupping your jaw as he wiped his thumbs over the tears. The second your eyes met his again he swore everything around him fell away and there was only you. You with your strawberry scented products and your adorable little sign and your cheeks flushed red.

“Why are you crying?”

“I just missed you, so fucking much.” You’d press your fingers against his chest, leaning into his warmth. “I think I forgot how beautiful you are.” Mason would laugh at this, leaning down slightly so he could brush his nose against the side of yours, his lashes fluttering over those pretty brown eyes.

“Missed you, too, baby. There wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about you, thinking about how much I just wanted to be wrapped up with you. Missed your hugs so much.” He’d use his grip on your jaw to tilt your head back before his lips were on yours.

He’d be able to taste your tears but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was you and finally being back in your arms. Mason’s mouth would move softly over yours, the slowest of kisses, just lips and love, days of not being able to kiss you poured into the way he dragged his mouth over yours. You wouldn’t even mind the quick clash of teeth from Mason’s smile before he pulled away, mouth still hovering over yours. You’d be able to feel the brush of his lips when he spoke.

“I love you.” He’d drop a kiss to your nose, once again using his thumbs to wipe away your fallen tears.

“I love you.” And neither of you would even spare a thought for the photographers who had been waiting at the airport and definitely caught the exchange for their papers. You’d be too caught up in sharing another kiss, Mason’s fingers sliding easily through yours, his grip on your hand a constant thing as you made your way to collect his suitcases. Mason wouldn’t be able to help himself, he’d press his lips against your hair or your temple every few minutes, mind set on the fact that for the next few days, work or not, you were spending every single second with him.

[beevean]

@spinningbuster98​

I don’t really know what to think of Order of Ecclesia overall. It took me until near the end of the game to understand where my grievances came from and why I suddenly stopped to have them. It seems to be a rather 50/50 game: half meh, half great... in this order.

How to make a reference to an unpopular mechanic of an unpopular game exquisitely badass :’)

The structure feels simplified, compared to PoR, SoTN and even AoS, which makes me think that at the time fans were getting bored with the Metroidvania style. There are many maps, but most of them are rather small, with the barest amount of secrets and rarely an incentive to go back. The locations aren’t even interconnected: if you exit an area, you can select where to go next, which is much more convenient than a big castle full of teleporters but also de-Metroidvania-fies the experience. The game also outright tells you that it unlocked a “new” area to visit, or even worse re-visit, cutting down the process of exploration that reached a comfortable level in PoR.

Probably the most Metroidvania moment was in the Kalidus Channel: at first Shanoa can only swim on the surface, so you can only go from left to right, but then she learns how to swim in deep waters and you can explore the entire area, which is much bigger than it first seemed. That’s cool! But it’s just one of the few examples. And as I mentioned above, when I got the Serpent Scale I was like “ah-ha! I know where to use it!”, but then I exited the area... and the map placed a neon sign on the Channel, invalidating my realization. C’mon, way to make me feel stupid :\

I was hoping that the game would be similar to SoTN in the sense of being strictly railroaded at first until a certain point where the maps open up for you - and I thought that getting the Ordinary Rock would be that point. After getting it, the game wants you to go to Somnus Reef... but nothing is stopping you from exploring the second part of Tymeo Mountains, which you couldn’t access to before. Finally, some Metroidvania :P it’s very short lived, though, as not long after that you’re railroaded again. Shame.

“But Bee, you love Metroid Fusion which is also a linear Metroidvania, how come you’re not as enthusiastic with this one?” because Fusion’s pillars are a strong narrative present throughout the entire game, a memorable gimmick in the form of the SA-X, many revisitable areas, and most importantly stellar level design. OoE doesn’t have stellar level design.

I mean, this is literally Marble Zone from Sonic 1!

And that’s still moderately complex for this game.

Bruh.

Some later levels even reuse assets and music. Argila Swamp is Ruvas Forest but more annoying, and Mystery Manor, the first climax of the game where you fight Albus, is just a reskinned Giant’s Dwelling. I can’t help feeling very disappointed by the last one :\

At least the plot is great! The best one in the series so far. I like Shanoa a lot, she has a memorable design and gimmick, and watching her losing her memories and emotions due to the adopted-brother-turned-villain was a great incentive to keep going - I really felt for her everytime she pointed out that she can’t feel anything and cannot even smile or cry. It’s hard to make you care for an emotionless protagonist, but she’s self aware and sensitive enough that it works. Then at the end, twist! Albus really was doing everything for Shanoa’s sake, because Barlowe was evil all along (as you can see in the bad ending)! The first scenes sure hit different now. You thought that Albus was just a jealous asshole, but no, he was a big bro until his death :( and when Shanoa uses Dominus to defeat Dracula, Albus gives his soul to not sacrifice Shanoa’s. Stop I can’t handle this D:

“You gave up your life for my safe, and I don’t feel anything. I can’t even shed a tear... Why was everything stolen from me?!” ;A;

“Now I've lost everything... my past, my emotions, my brother, and my purpose... I'm empty. ...there's nothing left for me.” ;AAAA;

You see this? You know what it is? It’s precious and to be protected at all costs, that’s what. I want to hug her so bad :(

(I’m just a little bothered by how, in other cutscenes Albus is in, he sounds too smug and patronizing. I can’t read his dialogue in any other way than “evil”. Bit of a missed opportunity)

Speaking of the good ending, I have to praise how you get it: save all 13 villagers before facing Albus. Some of them are in your way, others are hidden behind secret walls It’s by far the best requirement I’ve seen so far: it’s tied with the plot, it’s something you’ll be doing naturally, requires only the minimum amount of effort in exploring, there’s a strong plot reason that explains why doing this allows to progress, and it doesn’t turn the fake final boss into an irritating slog :^)

And the fake final boss, Albus, that’s probably the most fun boss in the game. Maybe also the easiest because for some reason he doesn’t damage you on contact but hey. If you bother to collect the Vol Umbra glyph in the dark trap room, and also if you have the presence of mind to absorb Albus’ own Acerbatus glyph, it becomes a rhythm game of shooting, sliding behind him, shooting, sliding behind him, and it was super engaging. (also my heart broke everytime I died and he uttered “Shanoa, kill me” :( )

(the bad ending is also much more poignant than in the other games. It’s not just “oh well, nothing more we can do now, let’s go home”; Shanoa, who hasn’t learned the truth, dies by using the compete Dominus! And since you probably don’t know the truth either, it comes as a shock to you too! And you have to personally equip the glyphs and use them, almost making you an accomplice! Not only Dracula is free to do as he pleases, but your negligence killed the protagonist! Man that just makes me feel bad :( )

(on another note, the game is kind enough to show you the villagers that you’ve missed, although not exactly where, and for a few seconds each, just enough to guess where the rooms could be. That is very nice)

So, as I think it’s clear, I was ready to consider this game a downgrade compared to PoR. But then the second half of the game threw me for a loop. I beat Barlowe, got to Dracula’s Castle, and...

Excuse me???? Now you’ve decided to go back to the Metroidvania roots?

The castle is still more or less railroaded and it’s more of a labyrinth full of dead ends, where you have to cycle anti-clockwise to get to the top (the only choice I could find was whether to fight Eligor or Death first), but look at that! Passageways I need to backtrack to once I have the right abilities! Oh how I missed you! And the castle is big, made of multiple areas, with great glyphs to find, and full of vicious enemies that force you to be at the top of your game - it's funny how the game with the easiest requirement for the good ending gives you the biggest, juiciest treat :p

The combat is interesting and probably the most fleshed out part of the game, it reminds me of AoS’s Soul System but far less randomized. Shanoa gains weapons by absorbing glyphs, which is done by pressing Up for a few seconds, and the game sometimes puts you in situations where you have to be very quick while absorbing a glyph or simply surrounding you with enemies. The weapons at the beginning are... very much not great, and you’d better wait for their Vol version, which for me meant that I spent roughly the first third of the game feeling somewhat frustrated, but they do improve later on. You can double attack if you assign the same weapon to both attack buttons (and ngl double smashing the hammer became addictive pretty quickly), but attacking temporarily drains your MP, for some reason. I got used to it, but it felt like an arbitrary limitation at first.

The elemental spells were really fun, though, and I especially abused the Ignis spell with its triple projectile and Nitesco with its long range - this game also places much more importance on weapon weakness, which is nice, as it forces you to use everything you have and not just the weapon with the highest ATK stat. It’s been a thing since SOTN, but this is the first time where it felt important. There is some element of customization with the Glyph Union, that changes depending on which Glyphs you’ve equipped, which is pretty cool: I especially love Universitas (Light + Dark), it reminds me of how OP Sonic Boom was in Metroid Prime 2 <3

(and it is so funny to me that, at any time after the Albus fight, you can use the full Dominus glyph: it is extremely awesome to witness, but rip shanoa. sorry for breaking the promise albus, the flames of the apocalypse were pretty)

The back glyphs are some of my favorites. There’s Magnes, which allows for some engaging platforming, especially in the Mechanical Tower (and you can even avoid some of the early bosses’ attacks); there’s Paries, which makes you phase into walls; there’s Refectio, which makes you heal (what a literal life saver in Dracula’s castle); there’s Rapidus Fio, which makes you nyoom lol; and there’s the Arma glyphs, which are just fun - the Werecat’s attacks are fast and strong, and it’s so cute how the other Werecats help you; the automaton is slow but nearly invincible and destroys those annoying spikes in the Clock Mechanical Tower; and launching bats on top of Rusalka’s head as a Werebat was the highlight of the game for me.

I also like how you can steal the glyphs from some enemies and bosses as they’re getting ready to use their attack lol, what a power move.

Then there’s the fabled difficulty.

Similarly to SoTN, OoE suffers from Early Game Hell, in that you start off as very weak and with mediocre attacks, and only halfway through you feel relatively strong. To compensate for this, the enemies suddenly become tanks, killing you in a few seconds if you’re not at the top of your game. The enemy placement can be rather mean too :\ Dracula’s castle is downright evil, with some of the nastiest enemies since the NES era, to the point where the Death Ring feels like a joke. Oh, I’m stronger but I die in one hit? So pretty much my experience already?

Speaking of which, those stages that are nothing but straight lines? They’re like this because the point isn’t to explore, but it’s to defend yourself against swarms of annoying enemies. Are they meant to evoke the feeling of a Classicvania? Were people missing the Classicvania style? Is this the equivalent of the 2D sections in Unleashed? I can’t say I’m a fan of them. I’ll take Argila Swamp as an example, which was easily the lowest point for me. A clone of Ruvas Forest down to the music, with the added gimmick of weed that slows you down, full of fast, strong enemies that swoop on you or enemies that create weed for you to kill? It’s boring! At least the Classicvanias had more complex, well though out design!

The shop also adds to the difficulty: it’s nearly empty if you don’t bother to complete quests. The village becoming more lively as you rescue people is another good incentive to explore the maps, some NPCs are charming (I especially like the old lady with a mysterious past and the jeweler who’s totally into Shanoa lol), and the quests are rarely annoying anyway. Still, you have to work to get those helpful items.

The bosses got progressively better, and not just because I got stronger, but man were most of them a challenge. The first ones, like Arthroverta and the giant skeleton, were pretty boring and unmemorable. Brachyura was original but annoying and took forever to die. The Man Eater was forgettable, and so was the Gravedorcus. Rusalka is strong but really cool and the Arma Chiroptera exploit is both cheap and hilarious. Goliath was just strong. But by the end, you have the fun Albus fight, the engaging Barlowe fight (with a memorable move where he punches you as he berates for betraying him), and all the bosses in the castle, who are hard as balls (except for Wallman lol) but very memorable. Eligor, marathon boss that he was, was very, very satisfying to beat.

This is sick and by far the best moment in the game.

Wallman’s death is also sick in a funny way. He uses a glyph to hide in the walls, Shanoa absorbs it... and he fucking dies crushed in the wall. Shanoa is brutal.

A nitpick that I have is that at the end of the Dracula fight, Shanoa outright tells the player to use the full Dominus glyph. I think it would have been better if the player was left to realize it for themselves. Having to manually select the glyphs at the climax of the game also takes away from the tension. Oh well, the moment is still epic.

One of the things I’ve noticed is that there’s little to no nostalgia factor here. I think some of the enemies were reused, and there are two reused tracks, Tower of Dolls from Akumajou Dracula and Enterprising Mercantilism from Dawn of Sorrow. But there are no nostalgia bosses, no other musical references to more famous games (you know, the Holy Trinity :P), no plot connection to other games... Odd, considering how reliant on nostalgia this series is :P

Graphically, what else? This game is stunning. From the 30-frame animation of Shanoa’s hair to the gorgeous stormy sea, this game came out in the middle of the DS lifespan and it shows. I also vastly prefer the return to the gothic artsyle for the portraits - PoR’s cutscenes were hard to take seriously at times. PoR used 3D effects a little more frequently, but that’s okay, OoE has also great effects like the ship in the Kalidus Channel.

Some locations were fairly boring, like the forests, others were much more memorable, like the Kalidus Channel and the Somnus Reef (I have a thing for sea levels :P). And that’s not mentioning some clever setpieces - my favorite moment was stumbling upon a wrecked ship full of treasures in the Kalidus Channel! Or what about the frozen waterfall that you have to thaw by absorbing the Vol Grando glyph?

(I don’t know where to include this, but I really like how some glyphs aren’t just a game mechanic, but part of the world. Albus uses the Torpore glyph to trap the villagers, the Lighthouse’s light is the Luminatio glyph, absorbing the Vol Umbra glyph illuminates a room, there’s the aforementioned Vol Grando glyph... it’s intriguing world building :) )

(I also love how you have to find the 3 Custos glyphs, that is the three Cerberus heads, to open the gate to Dracula. It is a little weird how you have to go up and not down though, but I guess Lord Dracula refuses to live underground :P)

Musically... eh? For the first half of the game, I struggle to remember most of the tracks from the top of my head. The problem is not that the tracks are bad, it’s that I struggle to associate most of them with their areas - the recycling of levels and themes later on doesn’t help matters. For example, I can’t distinguish Chapel Hidden in Smoke and Unholy Vespers and I find them bland for the standards of the series; Rhapsody of the Forsaken is good, but I always forget that it plays in the Prison Island level. Some themes are good but play in weird locations - why is the funky and light Jaws of a Scorched Earth the theme of the harsh, steep, cloudy Tymeo Mountains? (and what’s with the name? it’s awesome but again not what I’d call that track)

But then there’s the second half, full of nothing but bangers. Albus’ theme, Sorrow’s Distortion, starts off with a creepy organ but then becomes a rock piece and so hype-inducing. Lament to the Master feels like a sad dance to me, almost conveying the two fighters’ mutual sense of betrayal. When An Empty Tome played in Dracula’s Castle? Chills <3 Malak’s Labyrinth? Ebony Wings (which to me sounds like the intro of Sailor Moon)? The Colossus? Why is this area so good??

(also Rituals stabs me in the heart and it hurts.)

So, final thoughts? I think I’d have to replay the game, maybe not immediately but in the near future. The game got better and better as I continued, but some factors are objective flaws for me. As I said in the beginning, the second half, as mean as it is, overshadows the first half, which is funny because I can tell that OoE tried to be different, maybe to shake up the formula. Well, the old formula still works better in my opinion :P but yeah, it feels like the opposite of SoTN, where the main game is a blast and the “extra” part drags on.

But at least I can say, that the best part of this game is that it had a Morb(i)us reference in 2008.

Truly the movie of all time.

But seriously, a pretty good game to end the main series with.

[hanibalistic]

#3D341A | LEE JENO.

genre | fluff and angst, demon au

word count | 2117

warning | mention of insecurities, suggestive themes

note | lapslock on a 2k blurb? yes.

the first time you shed your glamor in front of jeno, it had been an accident.

you were always so careful with the way you looked, courtesy to the unsolicited criticism of others and the unwanted woes that came with them, and you were always so meticulous in your preparations to maintain the glamorized form of yourself.

with bottles and bottles of sparkly potions hidden behind the secret wall which entrance was blocked by a wooden shelf of grimoires and magic guide books, all made with great strength and patience, drinking a full bottle in the morning each day would help you maintain the idealized appearance you wanted others to see—bigger eyes, fuller lips, thinner bones, smaller nose, smoother skin, and silkier hair.

you have never missed a day with the potions, and you have never made any wrong calculations in regards to the making process of the potion; everything was taken into account, including the time needed for the herb gathering, the magic channeling, and the brewing of the potion itself. you would never run out of them, and you would never forget to take them.

you have always kept your glamor up without fault. but, unfortunately, jeno has learned no manners at all in all his years of being the insolent, bashful, infuriating demon that he was. barging into your room after you had sent him away and was not expecting his surprise return became your demise, as you had already shed your glamor for the day and were preparing to begin your night routine.

he saw you naked that night. standing by your desk, your perfect skin melting off and your face shifting off its mask, your glamor shed before him, and he saw you naked that night.

he saw you ugly.

you refused to meet him days after the accident, even though it was written in the contract of your pact that you two were to meet each other at least once every week until your deed to research hell magic, as well as your quest to retrieve your best friend's soul from that place was done.

jeno understood your decision. truth be told, he was in shock himself as well. who would have thought that the person he has made a pact with, the person he has been running stupid errands for in hell, the person he has been all over to consume and take the energy from, didn't look the way he always knew they did?

he has been too unassuming of you despite knowing your ability as a powerful sorcerer. little of those would risk their peaceful life meddling with creatures with him, taking one step further to study hell magic instead of being satisfied with earthly and heavenly magic. you had your reason, of course; that missing best friend of yours had you stepping through the shadowy gates with no regard for your own life. 

yet, still, jeno was unassuming of you, and he could hardly blame himself for it, really. 

the binding contract you two shared stated that in return for the resources you asked for, you would give jeno the soul energy needed not to maintain his form, but only to strengthen the power he already has. it was a simple transaction with non-simple repercussions; he gives you deadly herbs, ripped pages of spell books, information from great but dead magicians, and a great big headache for having to deal with his cockiness. you give him parts of your soul through energy transfer, which works through skin-on-skin contact.

normally, demons take soul energy through the act of a mere touch, something like a hand to the back of the shoulder, or a firm handshake if they managed to seal a mutual deal. the process is quick and straightforward, or at least it should be. jeno, however, liked to stall. more importantly, he liked you flustered and raspy in his hands.

there was never anything straightforward with him. there was only tension—tight, hot, budding tension. to jeno, the correct way and the only way to take your soul energy was through the act of roaming and touchy hands. there was only pinning you against your bed or setting you down on his lap, slipping his hands up your shirt or pulling its collar past one shoulder, sliding the tip of his nose down your jaw or leaving gentle marks on your neck.

the only way to take your energy was to leave you weak and putty in his hands, and it has never been easier for him to make your sexual innocence shine through by just pulling you closer to meet his abdomen. 

now, imagine his disappointment when he found out that the person he has been beaming up to, the person he has touched almost thoroughly, the person he has broken out of his comfort zone and shown any form of kindness for turns out to be more than meets the eye? that he has been putting his hands and lips and heart all over a superficial fantasy?

immediately after he had overcome the disbelief and confusion, he found himself struck with annoyance and, somewhat, rage at the pure idea that you wore a glamor with you whenever you met with him. that was, however, in no way an indication that jeno disliked your real form. 

he realized a little after you began seeing him again with the same glamorized form of yourself, and each time he felt a sudden surge of displeasure whenever he had to look at, talk to, and touch that dolled up face of yours, so much that he would rather miss his weekly dose of soul energy than take them from a willing you, that appearances has nothing to do with his raging emotions.

jeno just did not like that you felt the need to lie to him, and that you lied to him at all.

has he taught you shame? has he taught you to be shameful before him?

“take off your glamor.”

“and if i don’t?”

jeno looked to you in silence. you were being dismissive by tinkering with the herbs he just brought you from hell, placing them in jars and organizing them slowly so you could stall time. your glamor was back up, if not stronger than usual as he could sense it, and it was becoming an eyesore for him now that he has caught a glimpse of your true form.

he has been trying to get you to reveal yourself to him. admittedly, his determination and desperation to do so were mainly for his own good—he simply could not handle you, of all people, deceiving him, especially when the deception was nothing but a self-inflicted tragedy of being ashamed of one’s own appearance. to get you to shed your glamor was a favor to both himself and you; him so he could see you fully, and you to face yourself.

he has had no success in doing so, though. even though there were moments when he thought your eyes wavered at the sound of his irritation or the sight of him leaving without letting you fill your end of the bargain, ultimately, you never let up. you kept your glamor up, you kept the beautified features of yours up as long as you could.

“nothing happens,” jeno replied lowly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. he sent you a pointed glare, his gaze hallow and unseeing when he looked at you, making a point that he wanted nothing to do with your glamorized form. “i’m going to leave now. i’ll see you when i’ve gathered everything you need again.”

you almost slammed the jar against the table when he turned around. his painstaking attitude was understandable but intolerable. 

did he think you liked the glamor? did he think you wanted to reform yourself entirely just for people to like you? did he think you liked spending the effort on those potions? who else were you doing this for if not for people like him who pushes their beauty standards unsolicitedly onto people who just wanted to live to their heart’s content? why else would you be doing this if people didn’t teach you to be embarrassed for yourself?

nobody likes to be lied to, that bit you understood. but nobody ever talked about the superficial world created in which lies and cover-ups strengthen your stance. why wouldn’t you do it if it gives you an advantage? why wouldn’t you do it if it gets people off your back?

“you’re just going to ignore me because i don’t want to shed myself for you to see? that’s really mature of you, jeno,” you retorted, the anger in your voice a croaked mess as you battled the urge to cry.

“don’t blame this on me, [name],” he shrugged, “you do want to take off the glamor, you just don’t dare to.”

“and why the hell is that?” you asked with accusations in your tone.

“i don’t know!” he exclaimed with a breathy hiss, taking a sudden step toward you as his eyes flared a shade of demon red that made you stumble back against your table. 

when jeno calmed, the redness in his eyes faded with his anger, and everything in his bones was slowly replaced with softness and regret for having scared you. or perhaps you were upset that he had been mean and insensitive to your insecurities, which would explain the brimming tears behind your eyes. 

he had not meant to. it was in his hellish nature to snap, to be carried away with doing whatever serves him the best. if what he wanted was for you to give him the truth, he’d do whatever means to get it. bullying, snapping, threatening, neglecting—it would be hard to control himself in the heat of something he was passionate about. 

come to think of it, that part of him deserved a glamor much more than your looks that you disliked so much. at least his demonic nature served as a real threat to people he loved.

tentatively stepping toward you, he caged you to your desk with one hand clutching the edge of the table and the other reached up to the side of your face. he peered down at you with a chilling and shadowy gaze, one that held swirls of intimate longing, and he asked quietly, “have i taught you shame, my love? have i taught you to hate yourself, my love?”

you sniffed back a sob. 

the answer was no. jeno has never taught you any of those things. you were the one who taught yourself those things.

with the shivering of your body against his warm one, the glamor on yourself also began to shake itself off. it came off like melting ice, like lava, like the slope of a quicksand pit; your glamor shed and shed to reveal yourself to him. 

patches of rough skin you gained from practicing violent magic, dark scars that dotted your face from what should have been healed through your teenage years, a button nose flat and protruding as a gift from your lovely father, thin eyes that came from your kind mother, hair that no longer reflects the sun like a mirror, added weight to your torso and thighs—unflattering things. 

the fact that you unraveled yourself under jeno’s hand seemed to make you feel even more self-conscious, so much that you began sobbing.

“i’m sorry,” you told him. “why do you want me ugly, jeno?”

when he touched you this time, finally after so long, he didn’t do it to take your energy. he touched you for the sake of touching you, he touched you for the sake of having skin-to-skin contact with you, he touched you for the sake of keeping you both alive. it was what you both needed—affection through skin contact, an indication of unconditional love from another, the willingness to submit.

he kissed you carefully. his lips sliding from one place to another around your face, and his hands roamed your body to find spots he would grip and hold. you stood there trembling beneath his touch, turning weak and putty in his hands as you always did. the shivers in your breaths pounded against his chest that pressed tightly up against your own. they only began to slowly disappear the more jeno calmed you by latching his lips to yours, kissing you slowly and warmly, seemingly taking your doubts right out of your head.

“i don’t want you ugly, my love,” he mumbled between kisses.

jeno didn’t want you ugly. he wanted you real, you wanted you scarred and bruised, he wanted you open and vulnerable.

he wanted you his.

[mod-kyoko]

Hi there! Saw that the requests were open and here I am😂😂 can I please request for kokichi, nagito, kiibo and rantaro with an s/o who has heterochromia (basically a person with condition in which their iris are of two different colors). S/o is really insecure about it and covers one of their eyes with their bangs all the time. But one day they decide to clip up their bangs and show both of their eyes. I don't really know but I find people with heterochromia really interesting and wanted to see how the reaction of my favorite characters would be😂😂

heya, mod kyoko here! thank you for the request :) your headcanons are down below ⇩⇩⇩

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

rantaro, nagito, kokichi, and kiibo with an s/o who has heterochromia

you've never shown rantaro your right eye before

you told him you had heterochromia, but out of respect he never asked to see it

you always had side bangs covering your brown eye

as far as most knew, both of your eyes were blue

secretly, kaede had been helping you regain confidence so you wouldn't have to hide it anymore

one day, you were sitting in front of the mirror with kaede and decided it was finally time

while she was giving you words of encouragement, you clipped your bangs back and sighed at your reflection

it was that moment when rantaro entered the room

you let out a gasp and instinctively went to pull the clip to let your bangs fall back in front of your eye

kaede nervously glanced back and forth between you two

"wait! s/o," a look of regret immediately washed over his face as he rushed towards you

your lip began to tremble as you glared down at your hands

"s/o," he grabbed your face with his hands so you would meet his gaze

kaede gave a small smile, before leaving the room to give you some space

rantaro delicately lifted your bangs and moved them out of the way, slightly gasping when he saw your eyes

"they are... so beautiful," he breathed, staring into them as if they were something he had lost that he finally found

you blush, breaking eye contact to pull him in for a hug

the two of you share a warm embrace that calms your nerves enough for you to realize that maybe having heterochromia isn't so weird

because of this moment, you were able to clip back your bangs to face the rest of your friends that day

like rantaro, nagito was aware of your heterochromia

he just never asked about it

one day you decided to be a little courageous and step outside your comfort zone

you clipped your bangs back, showing off your two-toned eyes, and then left your cottage

the first person you saw just happened to be nagito

"s/o! good morni-" he stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open at the sight of you

with a smile, you walked over to him, trying to keep your nerves at bay

"hey," you greeted him sheepishly

"hey," he breathed, still staring into your eyes

finally, he snapped out of his dazed state, and a look of fear struck his face

"s/o! how rude of me, a person like me shouldn't be staring at a person like you like that, i don't have the right-"

you cut him off mid-sentence by going in for a hug, knowing that if you didn't he would have rambled on forever

once he seemed to calm down, he met your eyes again

"s/o, you probably don't want to hear this from me, but your eyes are really pretty," he mumbled nervously, looking away again

a toothy grin graced your lips as you grabbed his face in your hands

"i really appreciate that, nagito," after placing a kiss on his cheek, he seemed to go back to his relaxed self

hand in hand, the two of you walked towards the hotel restaurant to get some breakfast

nagito made sure to shower you with compliments on your eyes all the time after that

he would often find himself getting lost in them too, so appreciative that you would even show scum like him your most beautiful trait

we all know kokichi doesn't know when to shut up

usually

one morning he found you sitting in front of your mirror in the process of clipping your bangs back, and saw your eyes

he didn't know you had heterochromia, you never told him

when you noticed his presence, you dropped the hair clip in surprise, your bangs falling back in front of your eyes

"what was that about?" he stomped over to you, shoving himself in your face

"kokichi get away-" you tried to dodge his grabby hands but failed

it didn't take long for him to successfully pull your bangs back, revealing your eyes

"haha! that's so weird!" he laughed, staring into them

you grit your teeth as embarrassment flooded you

"get out," you mumbled

he didn't comply, so you repeated yourself louder

"get. out!" you yelled, standing up from your seat

you wanted to put distance between you and him since he deeply ticked you off

he looked genuinely remorseful after that

"wait what?" he asked, trying to take a step towards you

"kokichi, jesus, why would you say something like that?" you continue yelling, making gestures with your hands

his lip starts to tremble

"i didn't mean it, s/o, i was just joking, please don't yell at me," he began shedding his famous crocodile tears, earning an eyeroll from you

"don't you even do that with me, i can see through it"

....

his tears suddenly vanished

you angrily sat on your bed with a loud sigh, resting your head in your hands

not knowing what else to do, he tenderly sat next to you

"i may have faked the tears, but i really do feel bad for what i said, s/o" he frowns, reaching out to grab your hand

you let him

"ouma, you really hurt my feelings. my heterochromia isn't something i show just anyone, i'm actually really insecure about it."

his frown deepened as he climbed onto you for a hug

"i'm really sorry. they do look very cool though, you know." he says

you give him a smile, hugging him tightly

"thanks, ouma."

after that debacle, you decided to take one small step at a time, with kokichi by your side helping you

any time someone insulted your eyes or even looked at them weirdly, he would start screeching at them

you thought it was very funny to watch those people get scared away

boy are you so lucky to have a partner who would stand up for you like that

kiibo doesn't really know how to "read the air"

so when the day came that you finally gained the confidence to show him your multicolored eyes, the first thing he said was:

"wow, s/o, what's wrong with your eyes?!"

very loudly

so loudly in fact that people started whispering

cue the silent treatment

with tears in your eyes and your cheeks painted red, you stormed out of the room and to your dorm

kiibo decided to follow you (good choice, kiibo)

once he found you he was in a very confused and remorseful state

"s/o, what's wrong? did i do something wrong?"

"yes! yes, you did. i had finally become confident enough to trust you with my biggest insecurity and you asked me what is wrong with them?" you yelled, covering your eyes with your hands

without saying anything, kiibo walked over towards you, and sat next to you on your bed

"i uh, i'm sorry, s/o. it's... hard for me to read the situation, i thought there was actually something wrong with you, please forgive me"

with a deep breath, you met his eyes

a few seconds of silence passed by before you began explaining to him your condition

once he understood, he felt even more remorseful for what he said earlier

"well... if it helps... i think they're really pretty" he tried to smile, but the regret was too heavy

after noticing how hard he was beating himself up over it, you decided to forgive him

"it's okay, love. you didn't mean any harm," you lean onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and he is finally able to smile

after that, you decided to clip your hair back for the rest of the day

kiibo was with you as you walked out of your room, giving you words of encouragement as you went to go find your friends

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

that concludes your headcanons! i hope they aren't too long, i really got into a groove when writing these. thanks again for the request!

have a great day!

-mod kyoko <3

[system-of-a-feather]

Hey do you guys ever have trouble getting dressed? We get into arguments almost every single day when we're trying to get dressed because there's no outfit that everyone feels comfortable in. Between sensory issues and gender dysphoria and just different alters having different styles it's super difficult and often ends in tears.

We literally have a thing called "Clothing Warfare" in this system. Its a whole thing, we have literally had to in-cooperate it and general principles of respect for one another and boundaries about how we handle clothing because big yes.

Its less because gender dysphoria as much (though we do have that issue with our more fem parts, though the more fem parts tend to be far more internal so its not a regular large issue) but just because we all have very different comfort zones and rules

For example, I have a VERY low heat tolerance and am very prone to sensory issues with clothes, so unless I'm in a good mood, I cant really stand long sleeves, jeans, anything wet, and certain textures (though usually most of the system cant handle the same ones so its not as bad of a thing). Plus I am very comfort driven and personally have the least "style" in the system so I really like to wear good texture / airy tank tops and quick dry shorts almost problematically cause Ill do that in (Californian) winter and rain.

Lucille on the other hand, he HATES having his shoulders exposed and if he can, he prefers to have long sleeves and at least his knees covered. He's just a Pretentious Guy like that.

XIV has a lot more flexibility with things but he is HEAVILY aesthetic driven and has an issue with colors that function in an OCD manner where wearing much of any not-accent colors (or even ANY colors if its not gold, red, or sometimes purple) quickly makes his tolerance for stress and annoyances very low since the color is apparently all he can think about.

And then we have the more effeminate parts that always have complaints (valid). Beyond us three there isn't that HUGE of conflicts, so for them we have a principle of 'if you are out / doing something you are free to dress how you like' but the three of us are around A LOT and a lot of what we like / need conflict with eachother and usually when one of us gets dressed at least one other will have to Deal With It later in the day.

So we simply ask eachother to be considerate for the others. If there is reason to suspect Lucille might be out and I have to wear a tank top, bring one of his jackets. If Lucille or I are out, just don't wear a color and if you have to wear a color, try to wear something that can be removed so that if XIV ends up out, he doesn't go full ASPD anger mode because he is stressed by the fact hes wearing it.

Usually for me though, I just have to Suck It Up and Cry About It which I'm kinda ok with cause when I get home I always shed my clothes for my loose PJs anyways and its alright once in a while to tolerate discomfort to look Really Nice and make the others in our brain happy.

As for clothing warfare, its the term we use for when we wear clothes EXTREMELY adversive to another part to make sure they STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE FRONT THIS IS MY TERRITORY.

So- actually this came up the other day and like texts to our fiance / friends cause it was kinda memeable and we were like really co-blurred-front

[vminity21]

Beyond the Facade | knj

Pairing: handyman!namjoon X preacherskid!reader, bestfriend!taehyung X pregnant!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 10,958

Genre: mysterious/angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): strong language use, semi-detailed childbirth, mention of infidelity, alluding of a love triangle, evidence of a sheltered background, angst involving family matters, smut, losing virginity, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, hand groping, lots of flashbacks but that is the point of the story i sorry; Rated: 18+

Summary: A sheltered life leads to harbored secrets that are buried in order to protect someone you are falling in love with. As the time is nearing for the life growing inside you to be welcomed into the world, the reminiscences of all the moments unfold to reveal a beautiful story that needed to be told.

Credits to: @suhdays​ for making such a phenomenal header! The talent she has never ceases to amaze me!

The graying of the clouds is all you can see beyond your window other than the panging rain droplets now trickling upon the glass. Arm resting against your forehead, your lips press into a straight line in response to the series of thoughts circling your mind. Carefully, you slide your palms upon the mattress in an attempt to sit up, wanting to see more of the view besides the crying sky. Knuckles curling to rub your tired eyes, you furrow your brows, the comforting warmth of the bed covers remain tangled between your shins. Leafless trees border the side of the building save for a small swing set; a paved section decorated with a basketball hoop where a large shed stands many feet across from it. If one is to step outside the front of the structure, there sits a church surrounded by a gravel parking lot where the neighboring land hosts a barbed wire fence with an abandoned house and field.

It's been four months since you deemed the fellowship hall your home, and appreciatively, the area has been vacant since the falling of the church which saves even more stress than what you've been in since moving here. Achingly, your legs stretch to move off the bed before your feet land onto the grainy carpet. Your right-hand slips to steady your back, maneuvering your body to scoot to the bed frame, which has become a daily routine, weak fingers gripping the wood until your digits become pale white. Letting out a steady sigh, with all your strength you lift yourself to where you can stand, "Oomf," a small whimper escapes past your lips, tensing at the cringe plaguing your shoulders.

Being seven months pregnant sometimes has its perks, but this isn't one of them. Bending your body forward slightly, you step sluggishly toward your dresser, pulling out maternity clothes lent to you before the move.

"So, when are you going to tell us?" The soft murmur belonging to your mother echoes from the driver's side. Her expression submits an evident mixture of exhaustion and exasperation; though it's been a month since the announcement of your pregnancy, your mother is currently driving you to a doctor's appointment for a checkup on the baby to make sure everything is okay, "we have a right to know."

Arms crossed over your chest in mild annoyance, you bite the corner of your mouth until the side of your head meets the window, getting lost in the line of trees zipping by.

Waddling into the bathroom, the vague memory fades, your hand reaching to turn the knob of the shower. The squeaky sound along with rushing water splatters against the shower curtain sending a soothing jolt of excitement. Chilly air springs goosebumps over your limbs once you're freed of your clothes, waiting patiently for the water to warm before inching into the tub. When steaming liquid soon dribbles among your frame, a grin of satisfaction sparks brief happiness you needed an escape to. The heat of the downpour eases your aching bones, fingers clasping behind your neck to lean your head back, "Oh!" You gasp in surprise when the instant feel of a kick happens within your tummy. Eyes flutter down in the direction of your swollen belly, palms moving to caress it, "Look at you, what are you trying to do? Escape?" Cooing with a light giggle, when the baby kicks again, you can't help the giddy smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Now, this- this is what you love about being pregnant. Finishing up, you dry your hair before swiftly dressing along with brushing your teeth.

Thoughts still pertaining to the small life growing inside you, you've decided since your first doctor's visit that you do not want to know your baby's gender until the day that you give birth. When you presented the idea to your mother, she was all on board, proclaiming how she had done that with your younger sibling. Running a brush through your hair, you skim one final look into the mirror formerly then head to exit the bathroom.

Gradually sauntering through the mini hallway, you're more zoned on the way your hand pats upon the wall in some form of maintaining stableness to the point you hardly notice almost slamming into a tall figure.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" A deep voice panics, raising his arms in a way to catch you though your arms mirror the same. Heart ramming, a breath of relief winds past your parted lips- your eyes scanning the slim legs that follow to the handsome face of Kim Namjoon. His eyes enlarged apologetically.

"Oh Namjoon, you scared me," a tender chuckle sets the feel of calm for he sees the amnesty etched in your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, [Y/N], I was about to head out to mow the lawn, but just wanted to check and make sure you're okay," he timidly scopes the view of your huge abdomen, gulping once his hands rest loosely at his sides, returning his eyes to search yours before a sweet grin spreads upon your face.

"It's no biggie. Thank you for checking on me,"

His dimples show from the way his lips press in a tight smile, nodding in reply, timorously turning to waltz to the outdoors in preparation of the day ahead. You watch until he disappears from your line of vision; the creep of a blush burning from your chest to your cheeks. Raking your hands through your hair, you force yourself once again to deny the attraction seeping through your soul thankful your blush attacked after he left.

Kim Namjoon works for your father, making sure the church grounds continuously stay clean and cut creating a pretty environment to the eye. Protecting the land is another part of the job description- protecting it from any loiterers, wild animals, protesters, etcetera- maintaining flower bushes encircling the area as well as mini projects your father will want Namjoon to build. The swing set, including the shed, happen to be plans that Namjoon successfully constructed due to your father's wishes. In return, Namjoon is provided a place to live- the room that once held your father's office, is now changed into a bedroom.

It's strange for you to think about it now- how so much has changed in just seven months, when a year ago the church was thriving, unaware of the secrets that clouded within the audience. Squeezing your eyes shut, a reminiscent from the beginning of your pregnancy rears its head causing a tiny brink of nausea to form.

Taehyung's arms drape around you tightly, embracing you in all entirety that your eyes shut against the crook of his neck. Your fingers squeeze his shoulder, legs bent across his thighs while tepid tears spill onto your cheeks.

"Shhh," he tries to comfort, his breath tickling your exposed ear- your face still buried beneath his chin, "It's going to be okay," he whispers just as soft as the flicking fire burning amongst numerous candle wicks. Scents of vanilla blends with birch fitting the dimly lit bedroom that you're thankful exists other than the man refusing to let you go until you feel better.

"How?" You choke back another sob, "How am I going to tell my parents? How am I supposed to confront the church if that's what it comes down to? Shit... My dad is going to fucking kill me," Taehyung's shirt is soaked, but he could care less, tangling his long fingers into your hair to stroke the back of your head.

"Okay, now, you're being dramatic,"

"So, maybe I am? But you know very well that my parents aren't going to take this lightly,"

"Yeah, but I think it's safe to say that telling your parents you're pregnant is far better than if you were to tell them how you truly feel about religion,"

"Okay? Perhaps, you're right," a snippet of a frustrated huff leaves your trembling lips, "especially not with what's been going on with the church, I don't know how much more they can take,"

"Well, your dad should have thought of that before he had an affair with my mom," Taehyung's icy tone brings chills to your frame before he loudly swallows, lips firm from the anger boiling behind his almond eyes. Tendrils of his bright, red hair glow regardless of how dark the atmosphere is, and you hardly hold back the sheer pain stabbing your heart from the guilt you can't help but endure.

"Tae, I'm so so sorry,"

"Hey," he peers down at you, realizing he may have taken his comment too far, even though you're just as angry towards your father as your best friend is, "you didn't know," sniffling back the remaining mucus clogging your nostrils, you desire to face Taehyung no matter how foolish you think you may look, scooting your body to where your palm indents in his mattress next to his legs, his arm now rests around your waist, and for a split second, you're close enough to where the tempting appearance of his striking face beckons the strange glimmer of longing. A longing of curing whatever loneliness you're going through, but you're not the only one experiencing this moment for Taehyung's lips part just enough to plead your attention.

You can't stop yourself, and you don't, because before either of you comprehend, you close the gap letting the delicate wave of his kiss caress yours. "Tae," you breathe against his lips, reuniting with his kiss almost immediately while a dizzy spell of want travels through your chest. You know this isn't right. He knows this isn't right, but too many pent-up emotions between your hearts have gotten out of hand, and for now, all the two of you have is each other. His fingertips move to tenderly trail your jaw, gasping into his mouth when the tip of his tongue circles yours before you move to trap him in a perfect straddle. You need something, anything to feel whole again- something to forget about the people you lost and the people you will lose. And, if there's anyone in this world you do not want to lose it's him.

There's no refraining, there's no hesitation, just the growing pace of the kisses, and the way you're so enthralled with how beautiful he feels squeezing you tighter to him. "[Y/N]," he moans, hating himself for how far he wants to go with you, yet he craves your touch, nearly supplicates for it. You want to feel his skin, and the aching throb below you seems to deafen any other screams of stopping, and yet, your fingers move to the end of his shirt, peeling it just enough to expose the solid wall of his abdomen. "[Y/N]," he stops you, breaking the final kiss, his hand covering your wrist, while your eyes frantically search the side of his face, "We- we can't,"

You haven't seen him since, because of the boundaries that were crossed and would have been farther crossed if Taehyung had not had the strength to stop. The pair of you have been best friends since childhood, and neither of you wants to take anything beyond for the sake of feeling empty, but he assured you that night, even after your panic of apologies pouring from your mouth, after the humiliation that shackled your system, even after the daunting assumption that your friendship was over- he cupped your cheek, promising that he was still here and that he would never end your attachment over something, you both will never regret.

It's a secret you've suppressed for some time. Taehyung calls every so often when he can; dealing with his broken-hearted father on top of two jobs consumes every bit of his time. Yet, you can't help but miss him, the one person who loyally stayed by your side even when you came forward to your friends about your pregnancy. And, the one friend who still loves you all the same, even after discovering his mother's affair with your father.

Rage isn't enough to describe the resentment against your father, and ever since you told your parents that you were expecting, and ever since your move, you haven't spoken to him. You'll never forget how torn your mother was- depression weighing heavy on her, and that's something that's hard to forgive.

Your mother looks frail as she twiddles the crumpled tissue in her hands. Tears brim her eyes through the silence in the car, sparse sniffles breaking your heart into a million pieces. The two of you had just come back from the grocery store to restock the kitchen in your recently new home and are now parked at the church's back door to drop you off. You hesitated upon leaving because the thought of your mother having to return home to a place of remorse is the last thing you want for her. The promise of a car was granted to you, but you turned it down, refusing to accept anything from the man who caused so much pain to your family. To Taehyung's family.

Running the tissue underneath her eyes, she speaks, "[Y/N]?"

"Yeah?" Your voice is barely a whisper, but the guilt from how stressed your mother has been is something you wish you could carry instead of her. After the betrayal of your father as well as him resigning from the church to send people away from the place they once sought refuge in- on top of her oldest daughter being pregnant with her first child is already a lot to handle. The other frustration you bite your tongue from expressing is the fact of your parents refusing to let you get a job until the time after you give birth. You want to make the money to provide for yourself and your son or daughter without the dependence upon your parents- your mother especially, yet you're grateful for her adamancy on keeping you from any risks outside of the walls of your home.

It takes a moment before your mother gathers her words, "Do you- do you think you could ask Namjoon to help take you to the hospital? Whenever it's time... for you to have the baby?"

It was easier for your mother to ask that of you because he lived in the same building, and if any emergency of your water breaking happened earlier than expected, at least you would have someone available to take you to the hospital. Your gaze clears from the zone out you've had the whole time standing in the entrance of the hallway before Namjoon left. Turning on a heel, you decide to return to your bed, slipping under the covers- you're too wide awake to sleep as of now, yet the foam of the mattress eases the soreness of your back once you lean against the pillows.

-Four months earlier-

Queasiness envelops your abdomen to where you recognize the cue, rushing to the porcelain throne to heave whatever yellow liquid is left- spurting it into the toilet while you grimace through the pain. The door swings open behind you mixed with heavy footsteps quickening to you. When large hands swoop to hold your hair back, you don't have the strength to look at the intruder due to the continuous retching that deems you defenseless.

"It's okay, it's okay," the deep voice is soft, and relief brings tears to your eyes when you recognize it to be Kim Namjoon. You're embarrassed once your stomach gives you a break, your palms pressing to your forehead while you slump against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, swiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Namjoon scatters to find a tissue, patting the corners of your lips.

"You don't have to be sorry,"

"That... wasn't what I was apologizing for,"

A knowing glance is all he must give for you to share whatever thoughts you can't bring yourself to voice. He was your friend before all of this, yet you failed to mention to him about the pregnancy, and with him being the worker of the Church- he didn't discover your budding stomach until the day you moved in. His eyes flicker away from your stare toward the slight protrusion of your baby bump due to your ruffled t-shirt. He settles on the floor across from you, silence being the only conversation held. He isn't one to hold anger, and though you kept him unaware until your third month of pregnancy, he refuses to leave your side, making a pact to himself he will do whatever it takes to provide the care that you will need. As well as the little one.

Despite the emotional roller coaster, you remain amazed with how he keeps his patience with you. A day of depression to a random bout of laughter- memories turning of the betrayals of close friends who judged you immediately the day you put your trust in them- the freedom you craved away from the sheltered life your father forced upon you- even days where you can't seem to put your tears on pause, yet Namjoon holds you through every grieve.

"What if... what if I'm not good enough?" Your voice shakes between sobs- you had been dreaming restlessly yet another night, tossing within your bed to the point Namjoon came to check on you- rushing to pull you into his arms the moment your eyes fluttered to reveal pained tears. Your words nearly shatter him- pulling away just enough to where his eyes lock with yours.

"How can you say that, [Y/N]?" The faint light of your lampshade causes his face to glisten- angelically, you decide, yet the shadowing doubt of motherhood plagues you still, because what if you genuinely can't care for the child that you're six months away from holding? Fears encompass you like an ocean, smashing along your mind in harsh waves. "Look at me," are the words that snap you from whatever sea you were suffocating in to realize you had unintentionally switched your gaze from him. It's the calming effect the warmth of Namjoon's eyes bring when he exposes whatever faith he has in the woman you are and will become. "You're going to do just fine, believe me, I know it,"

Sniffling, you run the back of your hand along your chin where an escapee of a tear dangled, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because when have you ever given up on anyone that you care about," it's not a question, he's stating what he knows to be a fact. Something he learned of you when he first was hired to tend to the property. "You're stubborn when it comes to winning someone over. I was determined not to befriend anyone here. But you changed that for me, remember?"

A knowing tug of a smile trembles into a stretch upon your lips, "I do,"

"Same with the baby. I know you will love that little one more than life itself. It doesn't have a choice, and you'll let him or her know the second they're born,"

When a hearty snicker leaves your mouth, you notice the sticky feel of your drying face- you are no longer crying.

"You don't have to do this alone, [Y/N]. You showed me that even when I didn't know what else to do. Now, get some rest, okay? You have a doctor's appointment bright and early," the bed creaks from the gradual movement of Namjoon standing,

"Wait!" You speak before you can stop yourself, Namjoon immediately pausing- the heat of his arms is felt beneath your palms from your pounce of panic, and with evident chagrin, you shyly stare at his chest, "Can you uh, ... Can you stay in here with me tonight?" You've refrained from asking sooner due to the shame of not telling him the news that's become apparent, and even now, you haven't been able to comprehend how he's not the slightest bit angry with you. When his arms encircle you closer to his frame, no words need to be said because he's already answered by just this gesture. Nuzzling into his embrace, the side of his chin pressed to your forehead, "Whoever it is, I hope they grow up to be half the person that you are," you whisper, squeezing him tighter, infinite smiles now ending the night that cures any ounce of uncertainty.

By the fifth month of pregnancy, you finally come to the realization of how selfish you have been- it's no longer about you and your needs; it is now about the needs of your son or daughter growing within you. Namjoon catered to every grocery store trip, stocking the kitchen and in return, you choose to cook for him every meal, hoping to show as much appreciation to him that you can.

"Have you thought about any names?" Taehyung's voice muses on the other line of the phone, the sound of him bringing a small smirk upon your face. You've missed him terribly so, yet the acceptance of surprise phone calls is all you can settle with for now. At his question though, you pause with the tilt of your head, taking a quick sip of the broth that you're currently heating on the stove.

"No?" It's a brief question of guilt, something you haven't been ready to ponder, "Honestly... haven't thought that far ahead yet," you add in the vegetables to boil within the broth.

The familiar, deep chuckle is all you hear to gain an idea of what your best friend is about to say next, "I should have known,"

"Alright, Birkenstocks. What do you mean by that?"

"Breezing past that mistake. You named your Parakeet, Bird,"

"Well, in my defense, I was seven years of age,"

"And in my defense, playing basketball in Birkenstocks was supposed to start a trend,"

"Since how? I-"

"Ask Hoseok,"

"You lost a bet didn't you-"

"And, I will pay for it for the rest of my life, now won't I?"

"With me around, you will,"

Hoseok is the deacon's son who's dream of fashion has been shunned by his family, yet he designs in a sketchbook Taehyung hides for whenever Hoseok and he share the same work shifts. He's not one you have had the opportunity to communicate much with, but you're thankful Taehyung has someone to maintain a friendship with while you two have been apart. A short response of silence settles while your cheek and shoulder squeeze the phone for a moment as you stir the steaming vegetables.

"You could have named the bird, Tweety at least-"

"Oh!" You playfully growl, "Back with that again, huh?"

"Do I need to send you a link of baby names-"

"I promise you, Tae, I do not plan on naming my child, Kid, okay?"

"You'd be surprised-"

Taehyung's excitement for his future Godchild brings a simmering joy to the surface of your pattering heart. Almost as equal to the eagerness, your mother has shown with this being her first grandchild. Graciously, your mother has never been as strict as your father, hence why the past five months have gone much smoother then they would have if your father had never had an affair with Mrs. Kim.

The phone call ends whenever dinner is finished, and by that time, Namjoon scuffles through the door- the outdoorsy scent drifts to your nose while you place the sweltering bowls of soup on the table. Namjoon shimmers his feet from his work boots before hanging his coat, timidly glimpsing in your direction to confirm you're okay.

Small talk ensues with the typical questions of how each of your days has gone once the pair of you take your seats. One secret, yet another you and Taehyung have harbored, is the awareness of Namjoon's atheism- something your father must never learn of his worker. Namjoon, who will not admit it, works on the church grounds in order to provide for his family who lives a few miles up the road. Ultimately, there are many secrets not worth sharing to your parents, not only for the sake of sanity but for the protection of the ones who you've kept close, especially Namjoon. With your father being the tyrant of a priest, he used to be, there is still the potential distress of him firing Namjoon over the mere difference of beliefs. Something you refuse to let happen while you're around.

Clinking spoons replace conversation, for how long, you're uncertain; the fog of your thoughts seem to consume upon one in particular- something that has remained festering long enough, yet you have never said it aloud- figuring this moment may be the time that you do. Namjoon confided in you and Taehyung once he found comfort in trusting the pair of you- even subjects that one would have never expected him to open about. Guilt presents itself to the point your eyes squeeze shut, opening them to move your spoon to play at a piece of broccoli swimming in the potage.

"They don't know," your words are careful- slow even- continuing your vision on the dinner before you. You can feel Namjoon's soft eyes on you, his expression confused. "They don't know who the father is," that's when your gaze trails to meet his eyes just for more guilt to manifest behind them. By they, you're referring to your parents, as well as every other soul excluding Taehyung, "I won't tell them." Namjoon slowly nods with the sense of understanding, knowing the cost that will be taken if your father were to know who you're trying to bury beneath this web of fear. "Besides," you sigh heavily, "I'm surprised my father was lenient enough to let me live here," you confess, "if he wasn't so guilty over the affair, I would be homeless-"

"I wouldn't let that happen," Namjoon says suddenly, destroying whatever anger you were dwelling upon. Your mouth falls open in shock at his words and the frilly flutter of your heartbeat is hard to ignore. After living here for two months, he's proven time and time again that he means what he says; what he just said. Speechless, the rest of dinner continues in fond silence, your heart refusing to steady for the man slowly captivating your heart.

The sixth month of pregnancy gifts swollen feet and aching bones on top of your belly growing heavier by the week. Namjoon has stayed loyal- tending to your pregnancy cravings in the dead of night, aiding to your discomfort whether it involves a heating pack or a cup of ice, slipping under the covers on nights you want him to hold you, driving you to every doctor's appointment without any hesitation; with all that he's been doing for you, it's like your feelings have blossomed deeper which you know shouldn't be happening with the peril of your father finding out. The unexpected visits from your father are few, yet you usher the reminder to yourself of protecting Namjoon, though he carries the weight of facing your father instead of you who avoids the confrontation.

Night comes quickly after a day spent cleaning up the nursery that seems to be coming together, other than the crib Namjoon's been building- something you accidentally discovered when strolling close to the shed one sunny day. He's so dedicated to the unborn infant, it nearly brings you to tears, glancing around the elegant hues of multiple pastel colors painted across the room with stuffed animals, blankets, and furniture he continues to gift you amongst different items your mother has added to the collection. You always enjoy the sporadic visits from your mother, because she's free to celebrate the life that she refuses to consider as a sin.

"Are you thinking boy or girl?" Your mother elbowed your side earlier today after moving around the furniture.

"Hm," you hummed happily, thankful for the relationship that's being redeemed with her, "you know? I'm not very sure,"

"I can tell from all the colors you've chosen," she teased, "it looks beautiful," she cooed, pulling you into an accomplished side hug. You didn't want to stick to just pink or blue, so you chose every other shade in between, colliding the space with colors that could go for either or. "You're going to be a wonderful mother,"

The sound of the front door opens distracting you from the former memory, staring down at the table that now rests heaping plates of chicken and rice. The fellowship hall used to be filled with numerous rows of horizontal tables mingled with circular ones where the crowd would come to camaraderie to joyful hymnals, delicious food, reflected testimonies without any warning of the secrecies soon floating to the surface. Now a solo table, the one planted before you, pairs with a few sparse chairs just enough to seat at least four people.

"Hiya," you greet, trying to ignore the subtle increase of your heartbeat. Namjoon flashes a kid-like smile once he shutters out of his jacket, "How was your day?"

"It was good, thank you," he replies, taking long strides until he makes it to you, "How was yours with your mom?" His right-hand steadies the small of your back while his left one clutches yours to help settle you into your seat. It's hard to focus on the question he just asked when the scent from outside seems to heighten the attraction you already feel towards him, "It was good," you manage to say, reaching for the silverware to begin digging into your food, "Thank you... For helping me," the distance between your stomach and the table now is something you've been trying to get used to as well as the turmoil of trying to stand and sit.

"Anytime."

A blush floods your cheeks when he holds your timorous stare, so you avert your eyes to your dinner, letting the obvious feeling of Namjoon watching deepen the red shade on your skin. A few minutes disappear into time before you feel a shove against your abdomen from the inside. Your hand instinctively flies to press upon the baby bump, Namjoon jumping at the motion, stopping mid-chew, while his eyes enlarge in surprise.

"It's okay," you chortle at his reaction, "it's just the baby kicking," his response reminds you of the moment you felt the baby kick for the very first time- similar to a weird flutter that's hard to describe, and it had taken you a second to realize what it was exactly- just your baby making its presence known to you. Namjoon swallows the bite of food in a nervous gulp, the pang of his silverware mutes from where he lays it on the napkin.

"Here," you murmur affectionately preparing to stand to your feet. Namjoon immediately jolts from his chair, rounding the table to gather your hand in his. Instead of relying on his strength to help you position yourself, you plop back onto the seat, sliding his hand to the area where the baby kicked a few minutes prior. Namjoon kneels to level with you, his plump lips ajar mirroring the widen stance of his eyes while he patiently waits, his nervous heart pounding in his temples. It's the exuberant joy in his smile that meets his eyes in a dazzling glow the pure second the baby kicks again, and the bliss of delight smothers your heart in so many ways imaginable at this moment the pair of you are capturing together. Your hand remains resting upon his while your eyes lock repudiating from breaking contact.

"I told you that you don't have to do this alone," he whispers, and it's then you come to the awareness of how near his face is from yours, his dimples visible from his smile to the point you press your lips to each one, shocked at your act of boldness, but you can't refrain. He's too handsome and too wonderful to stay away from any longer. That's all the invitation needed, for Namjoon's lips brush yours igniting the sparks of what you've been trying to suppress for way too long. Your fingers find his hair when he leans to deepen the kiss, moving his hands to rest on the chair, fingers pressing into the wood until pale white.

At this moment, you don't care what anyone thinks.

You are in love with Kim Namjoon, and there is nothing in this world that's going to scare you away from that.

-Present day-

The pitch black outside the window brings frustration when you awaken to scold yourself for how long you've slept. Gathering yourself once the fatigue rolls off, you cautiously sit up, scooting to the bedpost until you're on your feet. Taking a trip to the restroom, you notice upon exiting the clock on the wall reads seven pm, and you wonder if Namjoon has made it inside for the evening. It's eerily quiet save for the air conditioning, but you pause when you see the lights are on in the main area of the building. Shrugging, you waddle around the corner until the sudden shouts of, "SURPRISE!", nearly knocks you to the ground.

Gasping, your eyes widen while your hand flies to your chest. A prolonged second interferes before your brain deciphers the two individuals cheering before you. Numerous pink and blue balloons hover to the top of the ceiling matching the colors of a cloth decorating the one table now adorned with a cake and wrapped gifts. "What?" You can barely speak from the light headiness taking over, but the tears that well in your eyes when you see the boxy smile of your best friend sends you in an attempt to run just to crash into his arms. He meets you halfway, surrounding you within his embrace as he rocks you back and forth muffling your wails of joy into his checkered sweater. Your soaked cheeks are wiped away from the material as been done countless times before, and his tepid palms squish your cheeks when he steps back to gesture toward your belly.

"Wow look at you! Your belly is huge!"

"I'm still in denial of how fast this pregnancy is going!" You say breathlessly, you're so happy to see Taehyung, you can hardly contain your composure. Namjoon steps forward with his hand reaching to squeeze your best friend's shoulder. Taehyung's fiery strands are curled upon his forehead, lustrous beneath the lights as it always has before, "Your father let you come?" There's a seriousness behind your voice at the question because you are cognizant of the fury Tae's father has against the church from the events that occurred what, in some ways feels like a lifetime ago.

"Well, no," Taehyung winces mischievously, "I told him that Namjoon and I were going to a basketball game,"

"Of course, you did, you sly fox,"

"You know you love me," Tae pecks your forehead before leading you to the table where the sweet whiff of cake flatters your nostrils.

"You guys didn't have to do this," you're still wiping tears off your face, though it's evident that your crying is from untainted gratitude, "What did I do to deserve the two of you?"

Namjoon kneels, intertwining his long fingers with yours, using the tip of his thumb to tickle circles upon your skin, "Taehyung mentioned how when you were kids that you loved surprises, especially if it involved a small party of some sort so," he tilts his head toward Taehyung, "And I knew how much you missed him, too. I just wanted to do something to celebrate you. And, the baby,"

It doesn't take much to smother this man in kisses nowadays, and once you express your thankfulness to the men before you, Namjoon reads your mind, snatching a small kiss in return.

"You two are on kissing terms, again?" Taehyung teases while you poke your tongue at him in mild embarrassment. Namjoon does not know of the moment you and Tae shared, and that's something you're not ready to talk about, and with the cutesy scrunch of Namjoon's face, the memory escapes to the back of your mind for now.

By the end of the night, the frosting had met all three of your faces- some smushed into Taehyung's hair while some swiped across Namjoon's neck, and your eyebrows are smeared along with the possible suspicion of some getting up your nose. Cleaning the mess takes a while, but nobody in the room would trade it for anything, and it's good stalling to prevent the night from completely ending.

Walking Taehyung to his car is the only dread overwhelming your system because you're not sure of when you will get to see him next. Tears flood your eyes, breaking Taehyung's heart as an awe of shame gusts past his lips, "I'm sorry, [Y/N]. My dad's expecting me home soon,"

"I don't want you to go," you choke, on the brink of bursting at the seams- Tae fumbles to tighten his arms behind your back- him trying to be mindful of your abdomen being pressed too firmly against his frame.

"Please don't cry," he whispers near your ear, "Please, please don't cry," His lips curl from the tears burning within his own eyes wishing with all his strength he could rid of the aching hurt that has kept your friendship separated. Tae swiftly pulls away when he remembers another present, he meant to give you earlier, whirling around to unlock his car, bending into the vehicle while his hands shuffle around the floorboard in a desperate search for whatever he wants to show you. When he turns to face you, a sharp inhale of glee echoes into the night- the lopsided plush of a heart is attached to a blue body ornamented with yellow polka dots that match its mouth. "Oh my gosh!" You squeal, "Tae, it's adorable! Where did you find this?"

Wiggling his eyebrows in pride, he hands it to you, "I made it myself. And," he pauses for effect, "since you have trouble naming things, I did the honors and named it for you. I introduce, Ta Ta."

"Ta Ta?"

"Yeah, like 'Ta Ta... for now,'"

"Just when I thought I couldn't love your dork of a self even more," you exhale, slamming your eyes shut just to bury your face further into his chest, not able to breathe in his scent from the clog of mucus stuffing your nose.

"I love you, too." His voice thickens with emotion, "Now, quit saying it like you're never going to see me again, because you know I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Your cold nose moves to press into the corner of his jaw where steady breaths move between your parting mouth. It's a serene moment where he turns just enough to glimpse at you, engaging in the beauty he's always found within your heart. Taehyung's agape lips now rest centimeters from yours when his large hands raise to rest his fingertips along your flushed cheeks- the curls of his frizzy hair pressing to your forehead, prickling your closing eyes. You discover your free hand enfolding around his wrist from the daunting desire looming from what's been left unspoken, and the shiver in his breathing brushes your chin once the light touch of his nose cuddles to yours. You both stand there for a seeming reel of eternity, battling the inward mayhem of choice that's displayed itself on the invisible line tempting to be traversed.

"I promise."

He hadn't kissed you, but there was no denial that he wanted to, especially with the way your face has haunted his dreams since the night your lips met in emotional patterns of sorrow. But, deep down, he knows it's too obvious of a choice if the one for him is to be you, but the love that has been kept for you will never go away. The same as a tether of your heart will forever be his no matter how deep your love goes for someone else. Kim Taehyung will always be your poise- your muse- the soulmate of a friendship that you will always need.

Toddling to the nursery upon Tae's departure still presents the boiling tears from your tired eyes dripping off your cheeks as you set Ta Ta beside the koala plushie Namjoon gifted you; the humor involving the struggle of both Taehyung and Namjoon carrying the crib Namjoon built for the baby taunts a smirk at the corner of your lips. It's dark besides the faint light of the hallway behind you, giving you just enough to admire the scenery around you- sniffling back what you can before reaching to cover your quivering chin with your hand. You've missed Taehyung. You miss him. And, how beautiful of Namjoon to surprise you with your best friend's presence? Reuniting the three musketeers from once upon a time?

Little do they know, from the unearthing of your pregnancy to now, the two men have mended your broken heart and stitched it back together again piece by piece. You're highly uncertain of where you would be without them, and just the thought alone is one you refuse to dwell on. While memories turn like a spindle of loosened thread, a revelation halts you in your tracks. The thought rings loud and clear gracing a wide smile on your face while one more set of tears dampen the corner of your eyes.

After scolding yourself for so long for not thinking hard enough on the subject,

right here, hands grasping the handlebar of your future child's cradle,

you finally have a name picked out for your little one.

-

2 months later....

"Namjoon, I'll be fine," the pointed look you flash him prompts a nervous chuckle once his hands rest to rub gently along your sides. He's concerned as he's been almost the entire pregnancy, but of course, now his worries are heightened to an extreme, "I'm not due until next week. Don't worry,"

"I know," he groans, tugging you closer just enough to plant a warm to kiss to your neck, "But, I can't help it."

"I'll be fine," you drag the word with a teasing sound of a whine. Namjoon shaking his head at you with a smile you're now feeling upon your lips. "Mm," you hum into his kiss, your hands sliding to squeeze his shoulders in reaction to how impeccable it feels. You end the moment simply to gaze at him, "You'll be back before you know it," you assure him- his trip to the grocery store being the plan for the afternoon.

"Okay," he says tenderly, eyes flickering to your lips once more before leaning to brush them to his own, "I love you,"

There's a small pause, one that entails warmth smothering your chest in giddy sensations when his eyes steal yours after pulling away, "I love you, too, Joon," watching him head out the door until the truck disappears along the road.

Of course, the day doesn't go accordingly the way you expect, because on carefully prodding to the kitchen in preparation to cook breakfast, a slight ache ensues within your abdomen. "Oh," you groan, stroking the area with your fingertips before deciding to lay down for a bit instead. When reaching your room, the sharp pain of a cramp returns causing a harsh cringe as you lean against your bedpost, hardly able to concentrate on the attempt of climbing onto the mattress. You remain hunched over for five minutes, forcing slow breaths to prevent from panicking, and when you find the coast to be clear, you straighten yourself out.

Suddenly, before you can comprehend what's happening, a gush of water splatters onto the carpet soaking your feet in the process.

"No," you whisper, eyes frantically scanning your room for your cell phone. Namjoon shouldn't be far with the grocery store only being a few miles away, but in order to get a hold of him, you must find your only way of contacting him. Hands pat your bed, thrusting off the bed covers and shaking them roughly, yet no 'thump' is heard before you cast the covers in a pile onto the ground. The next destination leads to the restroom, with no luck of your phone being in your bedroom- when another wave of pain shoots within your stomach, you gasp, trying to endure through the discomfort with all your might.

Leaving a water trail behind with every step you take, you desperately search the countertops before stepping into the area that holds the kitchen, wondering if there is any possibility it may have been left behind there. Your feet meet the cool surface of the tile floor, your gape scanning the entirety of the space before a pant of relief escapes past your dry lips the second your shaking hands gather the device. "Agh!" A contraction surges, hands squeezing your phone unintentionally, yet you grimace just enough to maintain your focus on the task at hand. Managing to get the phone ringing, it doesn't take long until you hear the man of your dreams at the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Joon, it's time," you choke, voice thick with pain.

"Oh, shit! Hold on tight, I'm on my way, just hold tight, I'm coming-"

You just happen to be running by the church in favor of dropping off the work truck keys to your father when he unintentionally introduces you to the new employee you assume he plans to hire, "[Y/N], this is Kim Namjoon. He's going to be taking care of the church grounds for us, isn't that wonderful?"

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," you greet, underlyingly suffering from the attraction swarming to your reddening cheeks. When your father mentioned of hiring, you never anticipated the person to be this overwhelmingly breathtaking.

"It's nice to meet you too, Ma'am," Namjoon's polite nod mirrors the dimples evident from a soft grin, his hand reaching for yours to shake before your father continues the tour of the place you've grown up memorizing. But something initiates you to stay, eyes lingering on the back of the tall figure decked in a turtleneck covered by a green jacket complementing a pair of jeans along with brown shoes. There's a spark of intuition that day, one that ignited the prominent determination that you want to get to know this person even if your father ends up finding out.

Namjoon busts through the door with pure alarm etched in his voice, "[Y/N], I'm here! Baby, I'm right here," he immediately jumps to where you are, keeled over on the floor, throwing his arm around you until he lifts you out of the fellowship hall and into the work truck. Words you attempt to form are muted by whimpers, tears brimming your eyes from the pain that doesn't end, "I'm going to grab the suitcase, I'll be right back," time must be faster than you can measure for Namjoon arrives, slinging the suitcase into the backseat before slamming into the driver's side.

It takes a while for the newly found employee to warm up to every opportunity you take in order to get to know him. One thing he's slowly but surely learning is that you're not one to give up so easily- something you've noticed him picking up on, especially on days, you annoy him when he's on call to build a project. You make it clear to talk to him nonstop until he acknowledges your existence, and the times he doesn't breathe a word results in a call to Taehyung.

"Come help me," you plea hearing Taehyung's exasperated sigh on the other line.

"You are so annoying,"

"You know you love me, fool," you gloat because with defeat, your best friend reluctantly joins you, even accompanying a basketball just in case if Namjoon happens to fancy sports. Your girlfriends, Luna and Jo, were informed of your undying crush on the mysterious worker, crossing their arms in jealousy that you half-heartedly ignored.

"He doesn't even come to the services," Jo droned, "Don't you think it'd be best to get to know someone that's more... active in the church? Like the pianist's son, Min Yoongi. You two had such a cute relationship when you were three-"

You can't get past why no one seems to understand that you must win Namjoon over, and though Luna and Jo have seen the world along with you since childhood, you roll your eyes, turning on a heel, "I'll catch you later,"

Tires screech along the road while Namjoon swerves past cars on the highway, hands ghost white from the tight grasp he has upon the steering wheel. Meanwhile, your hand grips the bar above you while your other rests upon your belly- the keenness of getting to hold your baby in your arms is all you're thinking about other than Namjoon who's keeping you sane.

"Just a few more miles and we will be there. Just breathe," his voice is unsteady from the fright of this situation, but he upholds his enlarged gaze upon the road. He fumbles for his phone- trying to contact anyone from your family in order to tell them the news.

"GAH!" Leaning forward, a wail echoes within the vehicle as another contraction attacks.

"You guys aren't going to stop until I'm your friend, am I right?" Namjoon's elbows are folded from the hold he has on the basketball meeting his chest. Tae jumps sporadically in front of him with outspread arms preparing to prevent the ball from flying into the hoop.

"Damn straight," you shrug your shoulders in observation of Namjoon's tilting head.

"I thought church girls didn't cuss,"

"And I thought you'd have more game than the basketball," You retort.Tae halts, straightening his frame, eyes flickering between you and a quiet Namjoon, "Now hurry up. If you win, I will leave you alone for good. If Tae wins then we treat you to dinner and a movie. How does that sound?"

With an incredulous shake of his head, Namjoon smirks, "Okay," the scuffle of his converse is heard on the pavement when he briefly turns to toss the ball toward the hoop. The basketball pangs the ring, twirling ferociously to the point, your heart begins to sink, but to your pleasure, the ball tips off the rim, landing in a rejoicing Taehyung's arms.

"HAH!" You sprint, colliding into Taehyung's embrace while Namjoon tries to stifle the smile overtaking his lips, "Looks like it's going to be a burger and fries' kind of night," you wink, unaware of the hope that Namjoon has of wanting to gain your friendship just as much.

The hospital entrance appears after the rush of Namjoon turning into the parking lot soon helping you out of the truck. The suitcase will have to wait being he can retrieve it later, his ultimate goal is getting you within the building to where you're safe. "It's okay, it's okay," he tries to appear relaxed, but everything becomes a blur until a nurse with fluffy, black hair approaches with a wheelchair to help settle you in. His nametag reads 'JIMIN' – him rolling you quickly down the hall when the presence of a female nurse whose nametag reads 'MONNIE' helps you change into the nightgown upon arrival of the hospital room. Voices are mingling together from the pounding in your temples, but Monnie keeps her hands gentle on your back to lead you to the bed where she hooks you up to what seems like a million machines whilst providing as much comfort to you as possible.

Namjoon's calloused hand covers yours when one other nurse, Jungkook, floods the room, bringing a chair for him to sit in. You're not sure of all the commotion that's overwhelming the room, but you steady your breathing as Namjoon directs, squeezing his hand through each contraction. You recognize the doctor, Kim Seokjin, a tall man already dawned in a scrub hat, mouth mask and gloves, scurrying to where you are, "Alright, I am going to check your dilation Ms. [Y/N], just breathe in and out." Slamming your eyes shut, you whimper from the discomfort, "Alright, she is dilated three centimeters. Once you are at ten centimeters [Y/N], you will begin pushing. No worries, I will alert you as soon as I need you to begin. Keep breathing. Everything will be okay,"

"Taehyung... My mom... Dad-" you murmur deliriously between breaths, the foggy sense of your conscious outweighing how to speak properly.

"No worries baby, they're on their way. They're on their way right now," he sweetly kisses your perspired forehead, running his free hand through your tangled hair.

The three musketeers were official after the day at the basketball hoop, eventually learning of Namjoon's atheism as well as him providing for his family.

"My dad couldn't find a job that pays enough, so I promised him that I will do whatever it takes," it had been six months since Namjoon had been hired, and currently is finishing his final paint to the shed while you and Taehyung sit Indian style in the grass. "Thanks to the job here, I can afford the rent for my parents as well as give them my car since here, I just use the work truck..." Namjoon sharing more in-depth with his life story- you finally get what you've been determined to gain since meeting him.

It's weeks later that you'll never forget, leaning against a mini, red monkey bar after sharing your feelings toward the man you've grown so fond of. There's no denying the feelings he's had for you, and once he inches closer, the crave to hold his hand has never been stronger. Boldly, your fingers trail to intertwine with his, your nerves close to getting the best of you despite the persistent smile that hasn't left him. When you find the bravery to look up at him, he swallows calmly before leaning in, you stand on your tiptoes to meet halfway until your lips touch. The slide of his arms encompassing your frame feels so inviting when he presses his body to yours. The world is put on pause to you and nothing else matters other than the way his lips move so elegantly- your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he sways you from side to side.

Time doesn't seem to speed up through all this pain, but the adrenaline swimming in your veins peaks when Dr. Seokjin prepares to check your dilation again. "Ten centimeters-" He confirms, "Alright, [Y/N], the baby's coming. When I say push, you push. Okay," he positions himself though you can't see anything past your gown and raised knees, "One, two, three! Push!"

"AGH!" You grunt, a small scream vibrating at the back of your throat once you push with every fiber of strength, you can muster.

"Breathe, breathe," Namjoon's hand hasn't once left yours- sweat pouring from your scalp while the burning agony overpowers your body.

"Is she here!?" The click of darting heels enters the room and are loud enough for it to catch your attention. "Oh, honey, I'm here!" It's your mother- scampering to your side with the undeniable blur of Taehyung's red hair following suit. You want to ask where your father is, but before a chance is given, the doctor shouts, "Push!"

"AAAAAAAGH!" You manage, body straining in all its entireness. Taehyung jolts to let you squeeze his hand along with Namjoon's. His features show nothing but fear at the sight of you being in so much strife, yet he holds it together enough to cheer you on.

"I'm- I'm so glad you both are here," you cry- another sixty seconds drifting before the shout of, "Push!" erupts.

"I'm scared," you murmur in the dimness of the room. On your knees, Namjoon's soothing hands glide along the tops of your thighs motivating you to run your hands along his forearms. You don't know where your parents are, and you're too angry to care. You're bushed of the fighting so, you sought comfort in being here, with Namjoon. Taehyung dropped you off at the fellowship hall with the promise of not breathing a word- because if your parents were to find out remotely of your whereabouts, you'd hate to discover what the consequences will be.

"Me too," his nervous eyes investigate every inch of your face. You've never been with anyone this way before- secretly hidden away from the world outside trying to suppress the revealing crave of what you're curious about. Scooting forward, you drape either leg around him, propping yourself enough to where your arms lace around his neck.

His breath hitches from the gesture- your lips erotically aligning with his in slow movements, heat rising below you when you feel the hardening of his being beneath your sense, "I want you," you whisper. He knows that you're a virgin, and with care, he lays you on the bed, hovering above your frame where your bodies align perfectly. "Are you sure this is what you want," concern consumes his countenance, but you desperately bring your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I don't think I've wanted anyone so much in my life,"

You gasp into his kiss where he slips his tongue along yours- the sensation one you've grown used to from the slovenly kisses leading up to this very night. You give Namjoon permission to sneak his large hands underneath your shirt, trailing up your ribcage before swallowing your breasts whole in his heated palms. Nipples so sensitive, your heat drenches the moment he realizes the effect it has on you just by merely brushing the rising buds, lipping at your neck while he basks in the beauty of your moans. "More," you beg, "Please, Joon, more." When clothes start to be thrown off, you're determined to pleasure him, but have not an idea on how to do so. "Show me," you breathlessly demand, Namjoon's palm leading yours to encircle his twitching being. You stroke his erection as shown, biting your lower lip from the throbbing feeling of your core- him instantly finding your entrance to fill it with his fingers as carefully as he can- both of you pleasuring each other, yet still getting lost in kissing so deeply, the two of you forget to gasp for air. The sensation of heated pressed bare skin can be the most beautiful thing, especially with the way your legs entangle with his. You're surprised the feel of his prodding fingers didn't bring as much discomfort as you would have originally anticipated, but when he brings a hand to his penis, he rubs his tip along your slit letting the sloppy sound of you leak onto it. "Holy shit," he moans from how soaked you are for him- his fingertips finding your clit while yours dig into the backs of his shoulders.

Smoldering kisses move from your lips to your breasts, down your abdomen to your inner thighs where you tense underneath his touch that slides to hold your bottom half where he can scan your heat. The tip of his tongue swipes upon your slit excruciatingly slow to the point your fingers tangle with the material of the bedsheets. The smacking sound of his lips savor your taste while his tongue circles your core- you're hyperventilating from how deliciously he flicks his tongue upon your slit, screaming his name relentlessly- the speed of his skilled mouth driving you wild from the growing climax beckoning your stiffening thighs, "Oh, Namjoon, oh- Joon- I- Oh!"

He's not ready for you to finish because there's more he wants to show you. Hovering above you once again to see you coming down from your high, your heaving chest longs for his touch, and he nearly comes undone from the smile embellishing your face. His tracing fingertips parade along the outline of your body in featherlike tickles while the sounds of panting breaths mingle with shifting sheets bring subtle music to your ears for the rest of the night. The gentle parting of his lips grasps your own in smooth movements persuading arousal streaming from your core. Your fingers now link with frilly tufts of his hair, gripping the strands in reaction to the pressing of his bare chest to yours, dreaming of nothing more than to be entwined with him for what you hope will be forever. Hips grinding into yours prompts the light moan teasing his ears for more before his mouth trails to pause above your pounding heart. His hair brushing your chin, your arms glide to wrap around him holding the hope that he will never let you go. Not even for a second.

"Alright, one more! Almost done! Push!"

Sucking in one long breath, with a compulsory scream, you push with all you have left in you. Exhaustion weakens your limbs, yet a rush of relief floods your body when the cries of an infant reverberate within the room. With heavy eyes, you turn to see your mother with tears cascading down her face and onto the back of her hand covering her agape mouth- eyes remaining locked in front of her. Taehyung's gaze doesn't drop though his fingers loosen from yours at the small bundle immediately apprehending the eyes of every individual. Right then, you move your head to your other side where Namjoon gradually rises in awe- his hand still has yours. Gathering any ounce of strength, you're ready to see the child you've been waiting to hold for nine months, so cautiously you sit up until your stare meets Dr. Seokjin's. You can see the smile in his eyes despite the mouth mask, and what he says next brings you to tears, "It's a girl,"

"Oh!" You thrill, anxious to meet her while the nurses scurry to clean her up.

"Sir, would you like to do the honors?" The doctor gestures a pair of scissors towards a stiffened Namjoon whose eyes are welled with hushed tears. He can't even speak, yet he nods from the happiness exploding beneath his chest.

"Wait," Your mom says, "Is- is?"

It's a moment that seems to fit the setting for your father walks in, as if on cue, shoulders slumped from the anticipating tension now darkening the room. Taehyung's shoulders tensed at the sight of the man he despises, but for the sake of you, Namjoon and his Godchild, he keeps his composure enough to ignore the elephant now standing in the room. The fear that used to consume you upon your dad unraveling the truth about your secret vacates you when you know that you and the two men present can conquer anything.

"Yes," the answer is to your mother, but your stern glower of warning is only connected with your dad's although your mother's stare remains on you, "Namjoon is the father."

Namjoon stands with pride while he accepts the pair of scissors from Dr. Seokjin- your father, with a shocked expression, watches as the man he hired happens to be the same man who stole his daughter's heart without his knowledge. Yet, he refrains from anger, because who is he to ruin such a precious moment about to unfold here?

Pictures are taken of Namjoon cutting the umbilical cord, his fingers gently rubbing his daughter's cheek while he wipes at the tears dripping from his eyes. Jungkook takes her into his arms to weigh her before wrapping her in a plush pink blanket, "She is seven pounds and five ounces,"

Endless joy envelops your heart from the scene playing out before you; especially, when the vision of your father's quivering chin, admiring his granddaughter leaves you speechless along with the hope of redemption entering your beating heart.

"Are you ready to hold her?" Monnie's kind eyes match her smile when she touches your arm.

"Yes," you stifle a sob, "I want to hold her,"

Monnie poses her arms to where Jungkook places your daughter, Monnie guardedly turns to rest your baby into your arms. Her small face chortles, her eyes closing while she puckers her tiny lips. "She's so perfect," you cry, love in all its beauty falling from your eyes while you watch your daughter's fingers fold individually upon her chest.

"Just like you," Namjoon whispers, locking eyes with you before inching forward to give you a loving kiss.

"I love you, Joon," you whisper, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth.

"I love you, too."

"Uh," the deep serenade of your best friend interrupts, all attention abruptly turning to see him raise an index finger in the air, "So, as the Godfather, I must ask a very serious question," the room chuckles along with him as they patiently wait for his request, "What's her name?"

"Ah," you nod, realizing that hasn't been made known to anyone other than to yourself. Your mother steps forward to place her hand upon your shoulder while your father keeps his distance enough to not cause any trouble- though the two of you share a small smile to let him know all is well. Namjoon watches you in admiration- the woman of his dreams holding his child in her arms while facing her deepest fear yet holds her head with pride about the man she will spend the rest of her life with along with her daughter swaddled to her chest. You are everything he's ever longed for and more, and he's ready to defeat any storm in life if it's with you and his daughter.

To answer Tae's question though, you return to face him, tears gathering in exhilarating bliss.

"Taejun." Her eyes slightly open at the hearing of her name as a tiny smile adorns her lips,

"Her name is Kim Taejun."

[wondernimbus]

a drop in the ocean — sirius black

pairing: sirius black x female!reader

summary: sirius teaches reader that love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

warnings: cheating, swearing

a/n: this was inspired by the song “a drop in the ocean” by ron pope! this is a little different from what i'm used to since the overall theme is a lot more ??? mature ?? i guess ?? i kind of stepped out of my comfort zone with this but i hope you guys like it :')

It's bizarre how much pain can change you.

You become this entirely different person. You look the same on the surface, but somewhere deep inside you, you're someone else. You're stronger. Everything that has happened to you—all the tears you've shed, the people who have hurt you, the pain you've endured—all of them shapes you into something more. Something better.

And one day, you will wake up, look back at everything that you have endured, and you will smile. And it will feel like the puzzle pieces of the world have fallen back into place again—and maybe it's been that way for a long time. Maybe you've come so far in terms of healing and you're only just now starting to notice.

[Y/N] [Y/L/N] wakes up one summer morning, when the sun is warm and promise of a new day looms above her head. She swings her legs over her bed, pads over to the window in the corner of the room where sunshine filters through, draws the curtains open. Here she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just—

Remembers.

And this time, it doesn't hurt anymore.

—

Sirius Black was a charmer.

He wasn't just handsome; he was attractive. He knew exactly how to get people to swoon over him without laying it on too thick. He'd send a quick glance over anyone's way—one that made them feel as though they were the only person on earth he could see—and that person would fall.

They'd want him, fooling themselves into the belief that they were different. That they were special in a way that none of Sirius Black's previous flings were.

They'd end up with their hearts broken, of course. Shattered to bits and left at their feet for them to clean up on their own, because Sirius just couldn't bother.

It would happen within a month or two. Some much less.

But [Y/N] lasted the longest.

She was in Ravenclaw, and had caught Sirius's eye in her sixth year. She wishes she could say that she was different—that she hadn't fallen for him the moment he'd gone up to her in the Great Hall and steered her away from her friends, asking for her name—but she wasn't. She'd taken one look at Sirius's eyes, seen what seemed like genuine sincerity in them, and felt her sixteen-year-old heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest against her will.

Sirius Black liked her.

It took a month before he asked her out. Made it, as some would say, "official". A part of [Y/N] knew that it wouldn't last long, but she would enjoy this—enjoy him—while she still had him. She'd never felt this way for anyone before, and despite her brain telling her that Sirius Black was trouble, her heart said otherwise.

A month together turned into two. And three, and then four, five, and suddenly the rest of Hogwarts was wondering when Sirius planned to break things off with her.

[Y/N] wondered it, too. But Sirius still looked at her the same way he had done all those months ago when he'd asked for her name, like she was everything in the world he'd been hoping for—like she was different. Like he actually held real feelings for her and not just the kind you try out one second and then get bored of the next.

She wanted to believe that look in his eyes, but she'd heard the rumors. and on top of that there were her friends' warnings, telling her that Sirius was no good for her and that he would break her heart one way or the other.

One day, while they sat at the balcony of Ravenclaw tower during one of the many times she'd snuck Sirius into the common room, she glanced at him.

They were sitting on the floor facing each other, legs crossed underneath them. Sirius's hands were in her own; her fingers played with the rings decorating his, turning them over and over.

"I like this one," she murmured, her touch lingering on the silver one on his middle finger. It was elegant, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, simple and with what looked like a crest emblazoned on the middle. She looked up at him and found him looking at her—gaze intense and yet somehow also gentle, like he was memorizing every last detail of her face and committing them to memory. Softly, she asked, "Does it mean anything?"

Sirius made a small sound of confirmation, eyes leaving hers to look down at the ring, watching as her fingers grazed over it. "Yeah," he said quietly, blinking, lashes dusting pale cheeks before he was looking up at her again. It took a while for the rest of his words to get out of his mouth; he looked as though he was in deep thought, watching her with something unreadable dancing just behind his eyes.

And then Sirius was clearing his throat, shifting on where he sat. When he spoke next, his voice was oddly soft. Sincere. (And again [Y/N] found herself wondering: are you pretending?)

Because it was during moments like these that made her think that what Sirius felt for her was real.

"It's from, uh," he cleared his throat again, and [Y/N] didn't fail to notice the sudden rigidness of his shoulders. His gaze was skittering away, looking instead at the scenery below them instead of at her. "It's from James's family. The Potters. I.. ran away from my family, see, about a year ago."

As [Y/N] listened to him speak, watched as his eyes grew hard and he swallowed with difficulty, she realized—this was something important to him. He wouldn't lie about this just to get closer to her; he was laying part of himself bare to her that very few people had ever seen.

"They took me in," Sirius said quietly, still not quite looking at her. "When I had nowhere else to go, they let me stay over at their place. And that same Christmas, they gave me this ring to.. welcome me to their family, I guess." Emotion tugged his lips upwards at the corners. "I'm grateful for them," he told her, nodding a little to himself, and then he was looking up at her, meeting her eyes.

He was relieved to see that there wasn't any sympathy in them. just—and Sirius found it suddenly very hard to breathe—love. Pure, unadulterated love.

"You deserve to be happy," she told him, tone just as soft as the gentle smile on her lips. She pressed her palm into his, fingers slipping into the spaces between his own and squeezing. He squeezed back, still staring at her, and wondered if his lungs had forgotten to stop breathing.

[Y/N] leaned in, lips feather-light in how they ghosted over his cheek, and then she was pulling away, and Sirius's heart was doing something weird inside his chest. "I'm happy you're in a better place now."

Sirius couldn't breathe.

He surged forward, capturing his lips in her own, and at that moment both of them knew this was different; it felt different, more than just a press of the lips, more than just a kiss. Sirius pried her lips apart with his own, taking his sweet, gentle time, and it shot sparks across his body like he'd never felt before. They kissed slow like melted honey, tender and thorough and just a little overwhelming, and Sirius was dizzy with it—he felt like he was drowning.

He was drowning, but he loved every second of it.

—

A few months turned into a year, then two, and before anyone knew it, they were graduating. And still, as they left the gates of Hogwarts to venture out into the world waiting for them, Sirius and [Y/N] were still together. It went against everyone's expectations—and truthfully, [Y/N]'s own—but it made her happy, being with him. and she could only hope that she made him just as happy as he did to her.

They moved into a flat of their own in the outskirts of London. It wasn't anything grand, but it was cozy and clean and it only took a few months for the building to become something of a home to both of them.

[Y/N] loved every moment she spent with Sirius. All their shared smiles, their little, subtle moments of intimacy, the fleeting kisses, waking up in the morning with him by her side—everything.

She loved him so much that it hurt.

Three years into their relationship, as she lay in bed with Sirius, their entire bedroom dark and quiet save for both of their rhythmic breathing, she told him.

"I love you," she whispered into the skin of his shoulder. His arm was draped lazily around her, and she was curled up at his side—and everything about it was painfully familiar. The way his chest rose and fell. The way he stroked at her hair. How he shifted down just the tiniest bit to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

She loved Sirius so much that she didn't even realize—or maybe didn't care—that he never said it back.

—

Maybe it was something that was just ingrained into him. There could have been a million other reasons that all pointed to it not being her fault, but still, for the longest time, she believed that it was.

Sirius was seeing someone else, and he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding it.

One of her friends had told her that they'd seen Sirius in Diagon Alley with another woman at his side. [Y/N] had been angry, but not at Sirius—no, she'd lashed out at her friend, calling her a liar, saying that Sirius would never do something like that.

It's bizarre, the things you do for love. how much you hurt yourself in the process.

Only a week later, she found a letter tucked into the pocket of one of Sirius's coats. It was addressed to a name she did not recognize, and written underneath it were sweet, sweet words that [Y/N] could remember Sirius telling her once or twice before.

you make it hard for me to breathe

everything about you drives me absolutely mad

meet me tomorrow night at the leaky cauldron and

[Y/N] stopped reading. Her hands were shaking too badly; the letter fell from her hands and onto the floor. There was bile rising in the back of her throat.

Her knees went weak underneath her. She leaned on the bed for support—the same bed they'd laid in just this morning, the same bed he'd murmured the very same things written in that blasted letter—

"Oh, God." She let out a ragged, broken sound, hands clutching at her own chest as though it would help ease the pain. She couldn't breathe. "Fuck. Fuck."

[Y/N]  didn't know why, but when Sirius came back home that night, claiming that he'd gone over to James and Lily to say hi, she didn't bring up the letter right away.

"How's Lily?" she asked, not looking up from where she sat on the couch, instead pretending that she was invested in a copy of the Witch Weekly magazine in her hands.

"She's doing fabulous," grinned Sirius, shrugging off his coat as he made his way over to her. "Her belly bump's getting a lot more noticeable. James is seconds away from absolutely losing it. He's always frantic—I swear he thinks the baby's going to pop out out of bloody nowhere."

[Y/N]'s senses weren't working properly. She hummed something inaudible in response. A single, painful thought was wafting around her head—a question that she now knew the answer to perfectly well.

Sirius strode over to her, draping his coat over the arm of the couch before moving around the coffee table to sit next to her. He was smiling. "But how was your day, love?" he said, and then he was leaning over, reaching out with one hand to tilt the side of her head towards him—

You're pretending. Always pretending. As soon as he made contact with her skin, she was flinching away, and Sirius knew that something was wrong.

"Is everything alright, doll?" he asked, brows furrowing into a frown of concern. His hand hovered somewhere next to her face, still, fingertips just barely ghosting her cheek.

Before Sirius knew it, [Y/N] was standing up and flinging the daily prophet onto the coffee table. There was something swimming in her eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint, but he felt something stirring in his gut—something like realization.

Something like guilt.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. "Doll," he said softly, and to him, it sounded like damnation.

And then [Y/N] said something that made his intestines feel like they were twisting into knots—"I know," [Y/N] said, without looking at Sirius. "I know everything."

Sirius blinked.

His grip on her wrist faltered, hand falling into his lap. There was a moment of thick, heavy silence. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by several degrees; Sirius felt cold sweat trickle down the side of temple. The space around him suddenly didn't seem to have enough oxygen.

And yet he let out a choked laugh, if only to quell the storm within his heart. "I don't," he began. His voice was unstable. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She was making her way to the door, but her movements were hesitant, like she didn't quite want to go—or rather, she was unsure where to go. She paused halfway to it, hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Just stop," she said. Resignation etched her voice. She leaned a hand on the wall, back still turned to him as she muttered to herself, sounding as though she'd lived entire countless lifetimes and had had enough, "Stop with the lies, Sirius. I'm done."

Sirius's limbs were getting up of their own accord, approaching her where she stood. But even he knew that he wasn't allowed to have her anymore, not at this moment—not at any moment, not ever—so he halted a few feet away from her, hand reaching out as though he wanted to touch her, gather into his arms and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

That he hadn't done anything wrong. But he did, and now he was paying for it.

When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion and there was undeniable pain in her eyes; “I'm only going to say this once,” she said, the lump in her throat audible. She turned around, meeting his gaze, anyone could tell that she was trying to sound strong—trying to sound like all of this didn't hurt her as much as it really did—but all of her walls were crumbling down on her, and it didn't sound like she'd be able to pick herself back up.

She swallowed with difficulty, blinking rapidly as though to fend off tears. “This is the last time you will ever lie to me again."

She looked up at him. Sirius's breath hitched in his throat. “I’m done,” she spat. “I’m done pretending like I’m okay with all of your crap. I’m fucking done.”

Sirius opened his mouth. There were a hundred explanations resting on the tip of his tongue, but all of them sounded like excuses, and he knew that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

And Sirius was the last person she wants to see.

He watched, with gut-wrenching guilt swimming in the pit of his stomach, as she wiped aggressively at her tears with the back of her hand and sent him a look of the utmost loathing—but Sirius saw right through it. He saw her pain.

Pain he had caused. Pain he knows he still caused.

“I hope you’re fucking happy,” she choked out, meaning to sound angry, but all Sirius heard was pain.

As she slammed the door shut on her way out, Sirius wondered to himself, as his knees buckled and he leaned on the couch for support, if [Y/N] would ever be the same again.

He'd made a mistake; a terrible one. And there was no going back from it now.

—

She did.

That is—she healed. It took her time, of course. Quite a lot of it.

Years passed by in a hazy blur. There were people who grew close to her, people who promised her the same things that she believed in so long ago. That she would be loved by them unconditionally if she just let her walls down and gave herself a chance to try and trust someone again.

It was difficult. She'd loved Sirius as though he were everything in the world that mattered—she had offered him all of her despite knowing that every moment he spent with her was a lie. every kiss, every promise; lies. All of them.

And yet she'd loved him, and when you love someone, you don't care about anything else but them. You don't listen when all of your friends tell you that he isn't good for you, and you don't care when he climbs out of bed in the morning, not quite meeting your gaze when he tells you he's going to visit a friend.

If you love someone, you don't care about all of that.

Or at least you tell yourself that, until you realize that you do. You do care.

[Y/N] realized it far later.

It was that that gave her the strength to walk away from him, despite her heart telling him that it's okay—why should it matter if he doesn't love you back? As long as you love him, it's okay.

It wasn't.

God, it really, really wasn't.

So [Y/N] lived on, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. And it's funny, how pain changes you. At first you think you're never going to be the same again—that you will be heartbroken forever, wallowing in your own self-pity—but the more time passes, the stronger you get. You don't feel it right away.

But one day, many, many years later, when her heart has healed, and she wakes up and realizes that she is loved by people around her and by herself, the way Sirius Black had never done—she realizes:

She is strong. So much stronger than the person she was before.

For the first time in a very long time, when his name wafts back into her head again, she doesn't feel pain.

Instead, the corners of her lips tug up into a small smile.

Here, in front of the window, with the warm sunlight painted across her face, her lashes flutter open.

I'm done pretending.

And now, there is no more pain in her eyes. 

There hasn't been for a long time now.

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​

[mirismuffins-ovo]

Plant Palace Pt6 🌿

(Labor warning!!! ⚠️)

[time skipping a few more weeks,the pregnancy is much shorter than a normal humans due to the babies being plant types

Eddie had been at practice and John had only gotten bigger. John had finally made it through the last month of pregnancy and he was due anytime now,he was constantly aching and sore now and his belly was heavy. He was lying on the couch propped up by pillows and Bitty was lying on his soft full chest. He winced when he felt the sudden cramping,taking a deep breath and counting only to feel another contraction. All John could feel was overwhelming fear at the realization that he was going to go into labor,he tried to stand up to go to the fridge for water. His heart dropped when he felt a sudden release of pressure and the next thing he knew his pants were soaked “O-oh my god..”he hissed holding his distended stomach in pain. He didn’t know what to do,Eddie should’ve been coming home soon. John felt like he couldn’t breathe due to hyperventilating as his contractions got worse.he held the couch tightly and he picked up his phone checking Eddie would be home any moment. He dialed Henry panicked knowing that even though he was a few hours away it was for comfort. Henry had decided he was gonna come help quickly loading into his car. John feared going to the hospital. But he suddenly heard the click of the door. It had to be Eddie.

Eddie had parked the car, locking it after he got out. He felt as if something was wrong as he saw the plants on the front steps wilting again. He quickly ran inside, Bitty meowing her head off by the door. The singer just walked into the front door when he heard a strained cry come from further into the house.

Running in, he saw John clutching his stomach as he crouched above a pool of liquid that was on the floor. Small plant sprouts were starting to form all over him, his body getting ready for defense mode.

“John! I’m here, I’m here!” Eddie said, as he quickly took his guitar off and rushed to his boyfriend’s side. “I’m here, what do I do to help?” Feeling his boyfriends tense belly. “Oh god..this is happening”

John shook his head heaving heavy breaths,feeling the contractions getting worse. His vision blurring,John was already weak from the cold weather “err..bathtub?..I don’t know Eddie?!” He was filled with overwhelming fear,letting out a pained groan trying his damndest to keep from covering the whole house in thorny vines. Leaning himself more onto the taller figure.John feared he needed to go to the hospital,before he began to crown at least.Eddie had helped him up. Crying out in pain as another surge hit him,his stomach feeling tight “Hospital…lets go to the hospital” he said in a pained tone still struggling. He hadn’t expected it to hurt this badly.

Eddie knew John had a fear of going to the hospital, but if it was this bad, they had to go.

“Alright, just try to focus on keeping your vines at bay.”

All John could do was nod as Eddie scrambled for the baby bag one of his band members suggested. Once he had that on his shoulder he helped John up and started to lead him out of the house.

“Guard the place Bitty. We’ll be home soon with your siblings.”

Eddie flew down the road as fast as he could, holding John’s hand the whole time. John did his best to breathe through the contractions, his energy getting weaker by the minute. When the hospital came into view, he found a spot on the side in a tow-away zone. He’d get it out of the impound later. Grabbing his keys, wallet, and bag, he helped John, scooping him up and ran into the building.

Once inside he tried to form words but the nurses could tell what was going on. They got a stretcher for John and carried him off. Eddie followed, trying to keep a hold of his hand. They separated for a moment while Eddie was instructed to sanitize before reuniting with John. The two didn’t have to wait long as the younger male was ready when they were finally set up.

John was scared of the normal people around him but the pain was unbearable they gave him some pain killers to try to help. He held Eddie's hand tightly crying and groaning as the doctors instructed to push. John had begun to struggle to breathe,feeling he was about to pass out. He looked pale and weak,the doctors told him to stop pushing,he was too feeble. A nurse put an oxygen mask on John's sweaty face,John doing the best he could.

“Almost there John” one of the doctors said in an encouraging tone,and then the sound of a newborn crying filled the room. A doctor taking the small baby away to clean her off. John continued through the hard labor for a few more hours,but finally the last baby was born and the doctor had Eddie cut the umbilical cord of the last small newborn.

John lied back exhausted and sweating in the hospital bed,he tore the oxygen mask off his face and mumbled “lemme see them” The doctor held three small bundles they all had small light pink petals littering their heads,their hands slightly tinted with a soft green. “Congratulations,you have three little girls” John smiled and gave a soft laugh as he looked up to Eddie,before lovingly kissing each other in a celebration of the new additions to their family. The small cooing newborns lying on John's chest,Eddie scooping up one of them while the doctors left “their beautiful...what should we name them?” John felt proud of the small little babies he’d made,they were perfect.

Eddie was shedding tears as he held the 2nd baby that was born. They all looked identical, looking like perfect copies of John.

“The first born, I think Willow. She looks peaceful, serene.” He looked to the little bundle in his arms. The baby was asleep but also smiling. “This one’s Blossom for her cheerful smile.” He then looked at the youngest baby. “Her name’s Juniper.” The youngest’s leafy hair was a little more fluffy than the others.

He looked up at John who was crying, loving the names. Eddie was super proud of his boyfriend, going through this short yet fast pregnancy. He leaned down, holding Blossom to his chest and kissing his forehead.

“I love you so much, John. I’m so proud of you.”

John couldn’t help but smile,the names were perfect for the small babies,they’d smelt like flowers. John was sweaty and tired and his clothes had been drenched in it. He also knew he couldn’t stay here for long,the humans now knew who he was. John had to go through choices in his head,Henry had finally pulled up to the hospital,speeding almost the whole way there. John felt his heart flutter when little Blossom fussed a bit yawning and making a soft coo. “I love them...and I love you so much Eds” They gave each other another kiss and Henry entered the hospital room

“hey guys..oh my gosh” he spoke softly as he saw the small flower like babies excited and overjoyed at the sight. “Congratulations you two” John was happy to see his foster father. “Hey Henry,” John muttered, allowing Henry to scoop up blossom after sanitizing his hands. John noticed some nurses looking at John as they passed and got a bad feeling

“Hey sweetie would you mind going home and grabbing my big red sweater?” John smiled up at him knowing what he had to do next,he really didn’t want to but he had to. When Eddie agreed John pulled him in for another kiss this one longer “I love you” he tried to cherish these last moments. Henry caught on to what was happening,he’d planned for it too,John's mother would’ve done the same.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll also check up on Bitty for you as well. I bet she’ll be excited she’s got sisters!” He gave one last kiss before grabbing his keys, making sure to look back at the sight as he left, smiling all the way.

The moment he got home, Bitty was screaming again. He stepped through the door, the kitty murping as she wove in between his legs. He got her food which she happily began to munch.

“You’re going to love them, Bitty. Three sisters!” He excitedly said into the place, finding John’s sweater that was in the dryer and told the kitty he would be back again.

Eddie smiled the whole ride back, excited to raise the little girls. He couldn’t wait to learn more about Abnormals and how to raise them. He hoped that they could live as a happy family, raising the girls, maybe having a few more down the road. He grabbed the sweater, walking inside and up to John’s room when he saw something going on.

Men in suits were looking into John’s room, writing things down and taking photos. Eddie was only gone for an hour, so what had brought this on? It then hit him. John’s fear: He was spotted as an Abnormal. He walked up to the room, to tell the men to back off when he saw blankets pushed around and the bed empty. There was no sign of life, no John, no Henry, no babies in that room.

His heart shattered.

The Men around him noticed him and started to ask questions. Eddie didn’t reply, but he ended up being taken away by the men, them now knowing he was involved in this new case.