#rightly panicking

[cray-cray-anime]

I can't just tag it

you can tell a lot about someone based on their phone background. it shows what’s most important to them

[cissa-calls]

Yeah everyone’s loved and invested in this series but did YOU have people checking in on you after the finale??? Because guess who did

[antaripirate]

brb on my way to red london to protect rhy‼️‼️FUCK

also KELL MY SWEET BABY ARE YOU OK?!?????

[ya-zz]

Can I request some headcanons with Cassidy, Hanzo and Reaper? Of them holding their newborn baby for the first time? The baby fever is going crazy feral for me rn

I thought I would've gotten to this sooner, but hello, it is finally here!

This was such a cute concept and I'm really glad I got to do this and to finish it! Thank you for the patience ♥

CASSIDY

He panicked when you mentioned you were going into labour, words fumbling out his mouth in incoherent sentences that made you question whether or not he was okay.

He was there with you the entire time you were giving birth, holding your hand, moving the stuck hair from your face, wiping the sweat off of your forehead.

He never once let go of you, wanting nothing more than to soothe you throughout the entire process. 

When the moment arrived, a screaming and crying baby in the nurses hands, Cassidy immediately felt the relief run through him. 

“I am proud of you, honey.” 

“You’re okay. Everything is fine.” 

When the nurses eventually handed the small infant over to you, he witnessed your features getting soft, tears pricking your eyes once more. They weren’t painful tears, but rather tears of love. 

The baby continued to cry for a minute or two longer as the conversation around the room continued.

Cassidy sat on the edge of the bed, hand still holding yours, watching you as you admired the soft bundle in your arms

When you turned to him with a smile on your face and asked if he wanted to hold his child, his heart almost stopped. 

He had felt overwhelmed before, but this time it felt different. 

His child was in his arms, bundled up in a soft blanket.

The cries had stopped, soft noises being made and when their eyes opened, looking at the cowboy, Cassidy felt the entire room spin. 

Finally, another reason to fall in love all over again.

HANZO

Hanzo was careful throughout every stage of the pregnancy. He’d listen to you, and get you everything and anything had wanted and needed. 

The moment Hanzo saw you grimace in pain, he knew exactly what was coming.

He was quick on his feet to get you over to medbay, hand never leaving yours as he helped you settle onto the bed.

The entire time he would whisper to you, sweet little words and praises to flood your mind and to take it off of the pain you were experiencing. 

“Stay calm, sweetheart.”

“My love… You are doing amazingly.”

He would keep his fingers laced with yours all throughout the birth of your child. 

The moment that new life was brought into the world, your hand squeezed your partners hand tightly, the relief flooding through your body.

His heart fluttered as the nurses brought the newborn over to you and him. 

Every emotion was heightened when he saw you hold the small bundle and when you offered for him to hold the baby, his eyes widened. 

His hands were gentle as he took the bundle to his chest, gently rocking his arms. 

He was almost a natural, and when the cries calmed down, he chuckled. 

Hanzo saw the pride within your face as you turned to look at him. The love for you and his child was overflowing.

The archer had another reason to keep fighting. To keep living.

REAPER

Everything changed rather quickly the moment you became pregnant.

The cold demeanour was suddenly calm and caring, something of which was what you needed during the pregnancy. 

When labour came around and pain was surging, Reyes moved fast, carrying you to the medbay.

He was worried and rightly so as you cried out in pain. 

Reyes kept his hand on your forehead, soothing what pained emotions you were receiving and letting out. 

Your body was on fire for your partner did what he could to make sure you were pain-free as possible.

“Stay calm, You’re doing good.”

“Almost there, don’t worry, you’re doing well.”

He listened to your cries and it pained him, but the moment that it fell silent and another cry was heard, Reyes felt warm.

His heart felt bigger as he watched you hold your newborn baby.

Tears spilled from your eyes, Reyes moved his hand to cup your cheek, thumb caressing the warm and damp flesh.

When you held out your newborn to your partner, he hesitated, but his arms opened up and accepted the small bundle of newborn joy.

His eyes softened and he smiled, a genuine smile that made your own heart flutter with joy. 

Reyes was happy. He was in love. 

[thelibraryoflightandflowers]

Secrets Come Out

Part 4 of the Garrick x Male reader series. At the Reunification Day Gala, Garrick finds out about the secret the Reader has been keeping. Angst ensues.

Read on Ao3

Link to Masterlist (for parts 1-3)

Garrick

Garrick hated everything about this stupid party. He hated the fancy clothes, hated the decorations, hated that they were celebrating the execution of his parents and were forcing him to be there. Most of all, he hated what it did to Xaden. It was cruel, forcing any of them to join in the festivities like the leaders didn’t know what they were doing. But it was even crueler to try and force Xaden, a man who had lost everything he’d loved, who was now responsible for the 107 lives that were only spared because of him, to celebrate that loss. It made Garrick too angry to think about. He’d tried to talk Xaden into leaving, maybe going for a longer flight until the party ended (if only so he wouldn’t have to stay) but Xaden had simply walked out onto the parapet, where he’d been for the last half hour. And the party hadn’t even started yet. 

You were praying to every god you could think of that Garrick wasn’t coming tonight. You hadn’t been able to slip away, and you hadn’t scheduled any leave, so you’d been stuck at the base, unable to see or talk to Garrick. Which meant you hadn’t been able to come clean to Garrick. Which meant you knew beyond a doubt that if Garrick was to show up to the cruel mockery that was this gala, he’d find out. And think (perhaps rightly so) that you’d hidden it from him. You were prepared to spend the rest of your life making it up to him if it meant that he’d hear you out. You had spent every waking free moment thinking about what you’d say; how you’d say it. You knew what you’d done was wrong, and you weren’t going to deny that. You just hoped what you had planned would be enough for him to see that you had been trying to protect him. 

Touching down on the flight field at Basgiath was nostalgic - you tried to hold onto that feeling as you watched your father’s massive dragon touch down beside you, but by the time you’d dismounted that spark of fondness had faded. You walked quickly beside your father, slipping into the court mask as easily as you had the court attire. Not that it made it any more enjoyable, or you any more prepared for this environment. Here, without Violet, you were in as much danger as a field of sheep from a hungry dragon. 

“Go, find Violet. I expect to see at least one dance from you tonight. Try not to be a complete embarrassment, will you?” Your father ordered, impersonal as ever; a General giving his orders. And like the soldier you had been raised to be, you nodded, and strode off to find the person that by the end of the night may be your only true friend. 

Garrick

“Codagh is here - and so is Melgren’s son.” The words spoken into his mind jarred him from the almost meditative state he’d previously been in, leaning against the wall next to the opening that would lead out onto the parapent, where Xaden still sat. Those words, however, jarred him enough that reflexively he turned to Bodhi, who looked about as panicked as he was sure he did. They’d known the General would make an appearance, but his son…he was another matter entirely. He wasn’t even sure what the man’s name was; no one spoke about him beyond rumors of his cruelty and talents that made his RSC class look like child’s play. He’d heard the flights talk about him more openly, mainly to curse him for his callous murder of their comrades, or the information they were sure he’d gotten out of them. And while Xaden was moping on the parapet, Violet wasn’t - she was inside the same school he now was - and the connection between the two certainly wasn’t a secret, which put a target on her back that even her mother couldn’t save her from.    

“Fuck.” He breathed. He heard a noise of agreement from Bodhi. 

“Why isn’t Xaden practically running down the parapet? Does he know?” He shot a question down the bond quickly.

“Sgaeyl doesn’t want him running into the school like he will if she tells him. It will only make it worse, for both of them.” She was right, he groaned. Xaden was going to kill them. 

“We can’t tell him.” Bodhi says quietly. 

“Nope.” He answers grimly. 

“You stay here; you look enough like him that they’ll know who you are. Plus, he’s less likely to kill you for this. I’ll go find Violet, and I’ll stay nearby.”

“Why do you have to go? Liam already said he’d go with her.” Bodhi counters.

“Liam doesn’t stand a chance against him and you know it; besides, Xaden would also kill us if we let Liam be in there alone with him.” He answers honestly. He’s already walking away, towards a battlefield he has no experience on, with an enemy he’s never seen, whose skill he cannot match or even predict based on rumors. Great.

“Violet, where is he? He’s not coming, right?” Your tone must be panicked enough for her to pick up on it under the facade, so she drags you into an alcove. 

“I haven’t seen him or any of the marked ones, no. You haven’t told him, have you?” Your shame must be almost visible for how quickly her gaze sharpens. 

“You’d better hope he’s not coming, then. Because I barely know him, and even I know that this is going to take a hell of a lot of groveling to fix.” You nod, not even trying to deny what she said. It’s the truth, after all. You just had to hope that you could prove yourself to him. That you could be the kind of man he deserved; even if you knew deep down that this relationship was probably doomed. 

The two of you silently walked towards the courtyard, knowing that there would be an introduction like there always was. You’d always hated that part the most. Standing there with the other children of the higher-ups, feeling like a trophy for your father to parade around. It had certainly never helped you make friends. You just hoped that you could get in, deal with the awkward introduction, the even more awkward dance with Violet that you’d been ordered to perform, and then go back to the base to sleep it all off. 

Garrick

He strode into the courtyard, looking for Liam or Violet. He caught sight of Liam’s tall frame, and walked towards him, avoiding eye contact with absolutely everyone as he did. 

“Where’s Violet?” He asked a bit desperately, hoping she’d already gone to bed and he could leave. But no. 

“She’s up on the dais. Apparently they always announce the higher-ups and their kids, like they do at court.” Garrick looked up towards the dais, just in time to see Violet step forwards as her name was called, curtsey perfectly, and then step to the side. The next name makes both men freeze, hands reaching for their weapons. Garrick swears he feels his heart stop as he recognizes the man who steps up to stand next to Violet as his name is called. He inhales sharply as your eyes meet his, gold and piercing in an unmistakable parallel to your father’s. He’d just never seen it, the rational part of his brain supplied, because you’d only met him in the dark. And Violet had known - that was why she hadn’t told Xaden your name; she hadn’t wanted him to figure it out. He knew Liam was looking between him and you, and didn’t even care. He watched as you jumped off the dais, bypassing the stairs in a show of athleticism that, if he wasn’t feeling all of the billion things he was currently feeling would’ve been so hot that, combined with how unfairly good you looked in your formal wear, he’d probably have dragged you off to his room to finally do all of the things he’d been wanting to do since he first met you. As it was, those thoughts only served to make him more angry. 

He turned and walked away, his previous mission forgotten now that he knew that at least you were no threat to Violet. He couldn’t believe he’d almost let himself believe that she might actually be different. He walked towards the dorms, turning down an empty hallway. 

Then he felt the hand on his arm, stopping him from running away, or even properly landing a blow onto his assailant.

Shit. Shit. Of course he’d seen. Of course he’d heard. You’d grabbed his arm without thinking, but as he writhed in your grip the only thing that stopped you from letting go of him was the way he froze when he saw you as you turned him around properly. 

“Garrick.” Your voice cracked when you saw the pain in his eyes, pain that you knew you were solely the cause of. 

“Let. Go.” He spoke through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep whatever he was feeling at bay. 

“Please let me explain-” You started, the speech you’d prepared forgotten in your panic. 

“No. You don’t have to explain anything. It was a smart ploy, get close to me and have another way to Xaden, was that it? Why can’t any of you understand that he just wants to be left alone, just wants to make a name for himself beyond the actions of his father?” He’s trying not to yell, you know. You almost wish he would. Maybe it would stop the tears welling in his eyes from falling. You didn’t know if you’d survive seeing him cry because of what you’d done. But you also knew that he was lying, and that he didn’t know he didn’t have to. You saw an opportunity to gain a foothold, to regain some of the trust you’d rightfully lost.  

“You and I both know that’s not all Xaden Riorson is doing.” You knew the walls here had ears and eyes, but you hoped that maybe you’d been vague enough, not that you had much control over what was coming out of your mouth at this point. 

Garrick inhaled again, and the wave of anger and fear that crossed his face made you realize that he had interpreted your words not as a discrete message, but as a threat. 

“How would you kn-” He cut himself off abruptly, “Did you…did you use me for information?” You could see that he was wracking his brain, trying to remember the things he’d told you, if he’d mentioned anything. You blanched, letting go of his arm and stepping back. 

“No, Garrick I would never do that.” You hated the hurt that welled up in you at the fact that he’d even thought it a possibility.     

“How would I know that? I clearly don’t know you at all.” He snarks, and the ball of hurt making it harder to get words out grows. 

“Garrick, please, I know I was wrong to lie, but I promise you everything I’ve said to you, everything I feel for you is real, please just let me explain. Please.” Gods, you would get on your knees if it meant that he wouldn’t walk away. How the hell had this gone so wrong?

“You don’t get to explain this away. It’s not just you lying, it’s who you are. Do you think I haven’t heard all of the rumors about you, haven’t heard about what it is, exactly that you do to people? How could I be with someone who could do that? Who could enjoy that?” The venom, the hatred in his voice is what makes you stop. You’d taken a step forward, hand reaching out for him, but it froze as you realized that maybe you couldn’t fix this. He turned around, making to continue walking towards the dorms. 

“Garrick, please. I can’t-” You had to stop, to clear your throat before you could continue, “There is a lot that I need to explain, but I promise it’s more complicated than that, I just- Garrick, I love you. I will make this up to you for the rest of our lives but please let me explain.” You rushed out the only thing you could think of. It was true, you’d realized in the weeks the two of you had been apart. You loved this man. You knew you were crying, knew he was too, and knew that you were having this conversation in a very open hallway. And you didn’t care. Because he didn’t turn, didn’t stop walking, just said over his shoulder, 

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”. 

And you stood there, knowing that you’d just blown up the one good thing you’d been gifted by the Gods. 

You took a different route, out to the flight field. You’d told your dragon to be there, and he was. 

“I told Tairn to tell Violet what happened. So she’s…prepared. And told Codagh to tell his rider that you weren’t feeling well.” You simply nodded, not having the energy for words. And climbed onto his back, to begin the long flight to the base.    

[zukosdualdao]

something i was thinking about regarding the parallels of aang and zuko accidentally burning toph and katara, respectively, is the similarity in their reactions in the immediate aftermath, but the way their reactions diverge afterward, re: apologies.

Aang tosses it into the air and spreads his arms out. For a second, he has a smile on his face, but it vanishes as he accidentally burns Katara's hands. Katara shrieks in pain. Aang: Katara! I'm so sorry! Sokka comes running to Katara's side. Sokka: [Concerned.] Katara, what's wrong? [Angrily.] What did you do?! Aang: It was an accident! I was, uh... Katara, I'm so-- Sokka furiously tackles Aang. Sokka: [Enraged.] I told you we shouldn't mess around with this! Look what you did! You burned my sister! [Katara runs away.]

Zuko: Who's there? Stay back! [Whips fire.] Toph: It's me! [Throws up an earth shield, but steps back into Zuko's fire blast.] Ow! You burned my feet! Zuko: I'm sorry, it was a mistake! [Comes toward her, but she begins to crawl away.] Toph: Get away from me! [As Toph crawls away, she grabs the earth under her and throws it backward at Zuko.] Zuko: Let me help you! [Dodges another rock.] I'm sorry! [Tries to grab her.] Toph: Get off me, get off me! [Brings up some earth which sends Zuko flying back.]

both of them try to immediately apologize as soon as they realize what they've done, and while that's understandable and they both do feel genuine remorse, the kinds of apologies being made in these contexts are inherently a little selfish. an apology should be for the other person, and neither katara or toph is in a place to process it, as both are in immediate pain and both are panicking. aang and zuko also both try to repeat the apology - aang only doesn't get all the way through his because sokka tackles him and interrupts - in the moment when it's become very clear that it's not going to be appropriate or helpful at the time.

where i think they diverge, though, is that while aang continues to feel remorse, he doesn't offer another apology now that tensions have lowered and she might be in a better place to receive it. instead, it becomes about his own guilt, and katara having to comfort him, telling him it doesn't matter because she was able to heal herself.

Katara enters the cottage to find Aang sulking. Aang: Jeong Jeong tried to tell me that I wasn't ready. I wouldn't listen. I'm never going to firebend again. Katara: You'll have to eventually. Aang: No, never again. Katara: It's okay, Aang. I'm healed.

he also learns the wrong lesson from it. and to be clear, i'm not criticizing that as a writing choice - i think it's very realistic. but instead of resolving to do better in the future and learn discipline, he declares his intent to avoid firebending instead of committing to the responsibility of controlling it. (which, as katara rightly points out, is just not going to work.)

whereas, despite his lapse in wallowing in his own guilt - why am i so bad at being good? - by the next day, zuko is able to apologize to toph in a setting where tensions are lower and she's better able to process it, as her feet might not be completely healed but are healing and she's in significantly less pain and a clearer mindset. he gives the explanation of it being an accident without excusing it, instead affirming that he knows he has a responsibility to be more careful and resolving to do better.

Zuko: [To Toph.] I'm sorry for what I did to you. [Bows to her.] It was an accident. Fire can be dangerous and wild, so as a firebender, I need to be more careful and control my bending, so I don't hurt people unintentionally.

i think the reason zuko is able to work past this and not keep wallowing in shame and guilt is because part of his journey has been learning (with help from iroh) that the guilt and shame he was made to feel for his 'wrongdoings' in ozai's eyes never actually helped anything, and he has finally started to internalize that. so he's able to say "i did a wrong thing and i'm sorry and i will do better" without either trying to completely justify himself or debasing himself, and that's powerful and important.

[callmearcturus]

thoughts from a rewatch: S02E08, "Man City," Ted, Dr. Sharon, and fear

@interropunct and I have been slowly working our way through a second viewing of Ted Lasso and I've been particularly interested in the relationship between Ted and Dr. Sharon.

Dealing with Dr. Sharon is when we see Ted at his meanest. He lashes out in a massive way that's an insult to Dr. Sharon as a person and to her profession, which she rightly calls him tf out for.

And then, after, we have "Man City," where they finally begin to connect.

My first watch of this, I didn't know what to make of the whole thing, because on paper it's not really great. Dr. Sharon winds up in the hospital after getting hit by a car. While concussed and then perhaps on painkillers, she calls Ted incessantly to basically shittalk him and insult him and sing about how infuriating he is.

Ted picks her up from the hospital and makes sure she gets home okay, all while informing her of the voicemails in an utterly sanguine cheerful manner. Something is undeniably different between them, and on first watch I didn't give it enough thought and landed on, "Ah, so now Ted feels like he has the upper hand so he's more comfortable," which isn't Fabulous but when we learn the sheer amount of horsefuckery with Dr. Jacob and Michelle, it's supremely understandable.

However, this time, we got right HERE

and i SMASHED the pause button and when, "Oh my gd, he's not afraid of her anymore. It's fear."

Ted's initial reaction to Dr. Sharon and how he panicked, insulted her, and fled, it wasn't born from a lack of respect and it wasn't from that stereotypical Midwestern disregard for mental health. Of course not, that's so entirely against Ted's entire philosophy.

Ted tells Trent flat out in S01E03 that he doesn't care about winning or losing, he cares about helping these young men be the best versions of themselves, and that bears out through the entire show.

Until Dr. Sharon arrives, and suddenly Ted isn't okay with making a helpful resource available to the team. He flat out tells Dr. Sharon he can handle Isaac's troubles, and when someone asks him how he's going to do that, Ted says he has no clue.

That is one hell of a cognitive dissonance. It's specifically therapy that Ted struggles with.

Until the voicemails. Until Dr. Sharon is an unprofessional jerkass to him. Instead of reacting with false apologies and diversions and giving her grace, Ted is actually more comfortable with her now. He's not afraid of her.

Now, the exact reason for that is probably a combination of many things. He knows she's fallible, he knows she finds him irritating, etc. But I think primarily: Ted always suspected that Dr. Jacob was manipulating him, always felt like he and Michelle were ganging up on Ted during the couple's counseling.

So it's a relief to find out that under the surface, Dr. Sharon doesn't want to hurt him or manipulate him. She just thinks he's an avoidant jackass who is a difficult project. Which is on some level true, so heck, she must be good at her job! It's no different than Ted thinking of Rebecca or Trent or Jamie as difficult projects he's got to figure out.

Speaking of.

When the disastrous post-match confrontation with James Tartt Sr happens, there is a gap in what Ted does and how he reacts.

With everything we know about Ted, with how fast Ted is to step in, to defend, to protect, to comfort his players and his people, it's extremely significant that he doesn't step in for Jamie.

It's a missing step. For Ted and his philosophy, it's a failure.

But it's a failure born from a frankly horrific trauma. Ted can't step in, can't make himself intervene, he fucking leaves the locker room, a move so staggeringly out of character...

because when Ted was sixteen, his father killed himself. And Ted was there to hear the bullet. He was the first to know. He was probably the first to see the body.

But he cannot stop and say, "Hey, everyone, I'm real sorry I missed the step here, I fully and wholly understand I was supposed to step forward here and comfort Jamie and reassure him, and I wanted to, but see the thing is when i was sixteen--"

He categorically cannot do that, holy shit.

So he goes and he calls Dr. Sharon and tells the correct person. He finally understands what she's here to do, how she is as passionate about helping people as Ted is, and she is equipped to help him with a trauma he's carried around for decades.

man, this fucking show is good.

[kaidoreunion]

yandere android foxy: “playmate”

content warnings: android (humanoid-robot) foxy, robot x human relationships, stalking, yandere, kidnapping, GN reader

Two months ago, they promised you that the job would be relatively easy and straightforward, that it was completely safe and effortless, that it would be easy money. Two months ago, you were promised a forever job, with high pay and minimum effort.

“Oh, yeah, this one’s a breeze.” He’d said. “Watch the animatronics, make sure they stay in place and don’t get stolen or something, and keep the place clean. Basically, sit in your chair and watch the cameras, yeah?”

What he failed to tell you was that the animatronics, or androids, rather, weren’t just some stationary object that followed basic lines of code. No, he conveniently forgot to bring up that they had minds of their owns, that they’d taken lives that were swept under the rug by corporate, that they were capable of violence, emotion, causing tragedy and suffering.

Your mind is in shambles as you stare at the security camera footage, eyes squinting to get a better look at what should certainly be your mind playing tricks on you. But, as you rub your eyes, it becomes clear that what you’re seeing isn’t a trick at all.

Foxy, residing in Pirate Cove, one of the main attractions in the Pizzaplex, isn’t in his typical position. Instead, he’s casually walking toward the camera that’s pointed at him, making your heart race with each slow step he takes.

He tilts his head and leans in, the camera shaking as he reaches for it, tapping the lens with a hooked hand before the reception cuts out, leaving his area on your security cameras as a static screen.

You don’t have time to reflect, because shortly after, there’s a tapping at the left side door of your office. Naturally, you flinch and get to your feet, sliding a hand over the desk in search of anything to defend yourself. You grab on to a security baton, one of the few things this crummy job had given you, and hold it at your side defensively.

It’s fruitless, because when he wants to get in, he does so effortlessly. He slams his hooked hand against the glass window of the door, reaching down to unlock the door for himself. He pushes the door open and walks in, brushing the glass off his hook.

“Mighty fine security you’ve got yerself there.” He comments slyly, raising his head and meeting your eyes. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine at the sight of his narrowed eyes, one covered by an eyepatch, and the scratches on his body from being out of commission for so long. “Yer’ always just strain’ at those monitors with a tired look, nice to see a new expression on ya.”

“What the hell?” You murmur, gripping the baton. Foxy’s eyes dart to the weapon in your hand, then back to your face.

“Why so panicked? I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He raises his hands, or lack there of, in protest. “Been outta commission for a time now, y’know? Been watching ya watch those cameras the last month, looked rightly bored.”

You scan his metallic face for signs of malice or instability, but find nothing. You relax your grip and posture, but stay on your guard.

“How would you know? You stay in that… tent… thing.”

“Ah! Me Pirate’s Cove, that there is!” He exclaims, suddenly proud of himself. “Yer right, can’t see much there, but word spreads. Cute security guard don’t go unnoticed, given the old men we usually get ‘round here.”

You hesitate, unsure how to interpret the compliment. “Word spreads… with who?”

“Yer a bit slow, aren’t’cha? ‘S alright. We animatronics ain’t just props, y’know. Chica’s real keen on ya.” He chuckles, but you hear the insincerity in his tone. He takes a step towards you, and you instinctively take one backwards. “Yer shift ends at 6?”

“Yeah…” You trail off, tightening your grip on the baton once again.

He looks up at the clock on the wall. “‘S about 5.”

“I—“

He swiftly takes your wrist, pulling you toward his cold, yet shockingly soft, body. “Ya went home early?”

“What? I’m still here.”

“That’s not what this note says.” He grins a golden toothed smile, sticking a sticky note to the desk and lifting you, slinging you over his shoulder effortlessly.

“Fuck! Foxy, put me down!”

“Can’t hear ya, darlin’! What do ya say we get you some sweets to keep you calm?”

[recklessfiction]

There are two wizards, brothers. One lives on the top of a mountain, the other on the top floor of a skyscraper, a tower. They don't speak, there is resentment there. Until one day the wizard in the tower commissions his brother to create a relic, a skull he needs for a ritual he plans to perform. The wizard on the mountain agrees.

The skull is delivered to the cabin on the mountain by men in suits and sunglasses. The wizard takes it and tells them to return in three days. Over those days, the wizard works, carving hymns into the inside of the skull, chiseling runes into the bone and painting it with black ink. It is a beautiful thing, when it is finished, a lovely piece of art and a job well done.

The men return, pleased by the look of the thing, even though they do not know what the sigils mean, or in what languages the songs are written. There is a foul air of unearned arrogance about them. They pass along a briefcase full of money. Significantly less than what was agreed upon.

"You'll take it and like it, old man." One of the men says, foolish.

The wizard on the mountain takes the money and stays silent. Only passing a thumb over the brow of the skull, smudging it with gold paint. He says one word to it, before passing it over to the men who place it in a velvet lined box and bring it out to the car. The Wizard grins as he watches them go, teeth sharp.

The car makes it halfway down the mountain before the box begins to shake. Within it, the skull has already begun to reform its tissue, muscle and fat.

"What the fuck is going on back there?" the driver calls.

The box explodes.

Bone stretches and cracks, growing into spine and arm and shoulder held by bleeding wet muscle and flesh. There is screaming from the men in the back as blood and fat explodes from the growing body onto their clothes.

"What the fuck-!?"

"Stop the car!"

A panicked arm shoots out for the steering wheel from behind and in a craze, the driver swerves, slamming into a tree on the side of the road. The horn drones into the night, joined, at first by two screams and soon three.

The skull had grown its lungs and vocal chords.

The two surviving men in suits (the driver died on impact) clamber out of the car, white shirts soaked with blood and fluids. They scream and cry out for help until they see lights coming down the road. They wave their arms, shouting their horror and "pull over, please! Pull over!"

The car pulls off the road, an old blue pickup truck. The door opens and a figure steps out. The faces of the men fall.

"please."

BANG

One gunshot

BANG

and another

Now only one voice screams in the darkness and the Wizard on the Mountain picks his way through the bodies and debris of the crashed car towards the sound. He crouches low and pulls the once corpse-then skull-now body out from beneath the wreckage.

He drops the body into the bed of the truck before climbing into the cab. The soft start and sudden jolt makes the corpse's breath hitch and as the truck trundles back up the road to the top of the mountain, it's screams turn to quiet gasps and whimpers. The rain starts about then and its painful on the corpse's new skin. It can hear the sound of a radio from inside the truck. It can also feel the heaviness of a heart that had not been there a half hour ago, and something itches inside its head.

The car stops once they reach the cabin. When the Wizard comes around and lays a hand on it's ankle, the corpse tenses, and rightly so as it is pulled off the bed and onto the wet ground. The wizard drags it through the mud towards a small shed beside the house.

"The axe'll be easiest. You won't feel a thing."

The corpse kicks out, immediately understanding the words the Wizard says to it. Alas, it is weak and newly born, there is nothing it can do as it is brought before a large stump. It's leg is dropped as the Wizard goes to collect the axe and the corpse wastes no time in beginning it's escape, not that it gets very far.

"Ah," a sharp sound from behind, "where do you think you're goin'?"

A large arm hauls the corpse up, not gentle but not needlessly violent. Like pulling the leash on a big dog.

"Come on, don't make this difficult."

"No," the corpse croaked, squirming in the Wizard's grasp, "no."

"You got to see the stars, feel the rain, breathe," the shed was getting nearer again and the corpse felt its horrible, horrible heart slam against its chest, "What more could a dead man want?"

More. Everything. Anything more. Adrenaline coursed through new veins and it felt, to the corpse, like its body was on fire. It clawed at the skin that held it, not knowing the strength it had. Its teeth sunk into muscle and the Wizard, for all his great size, shouted out, dropping the corpse like a hot loaf tin.

The corpse moved, pushing itself up onto unsteady legs and running towards the light of the house. The Wizard's grin had turned to a snarl now as blood trickled down his arm and neck. Fingers curled around the axe handle and he pulled the blade from the block of wood before following the skull to the house.

"Fucking bodies. More trouble than they're worth."

This is an introduction to a story I'm currently working on called Freakdom. The aesthetic is based heavily on death metal and heavy metal music and art, movies like Mandy, Hellraiser, The Void, etc, and so far it's pretty cool! The resurrected skull is named Lazarus (appropriately) but I haven't gotten names for the Wizards yet. I'm having fun though!

[arialerendeair]

Happy Birthday!!!!!! May all your wishes come true!!!! Good health and wealth to you!!!

As a Gabe anon, I feel compelled to give you a little idea and here it is. A Sleepless in Seattle AU!

Hob is a recently widowed father to a precocious 10-year-old, Robyn. They lost Eleanor just the year before and to help themselves, they pack up and move out of the city she grew up in to move to Seattle.

On the other side of the country, Dream is preparing to marry Calliope, whom he met at work. The relationship is fine. He likes her well enough and she likes him well enough. Marriage is just something that makes this all seem real.

It's Christmas Eve and while on a long drive home, Dream tunes into a radio show where Robyn is asking for a new wife or husband for his father. He's been real sad since his mom died and he just wants someone to join their little family.

Then Hob catches him and sends him off to bed and takes over the call. He gets to talking about what he loved about his wife and what he misses most. Dream heart melts for this stranger so many miles away.

Dream decides to write him a letter. He wants to meet Hob and Robyn on top of the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day, much to the chagrin of his friend Lucienne who rightly tells him he doesn't want to be in love in real life. He wants to be in love in a movie. He's also still engaged to Calliope after all. Dream thinks better of it and tosses the letter, which Lucienne still mails.

Hob meanwhile has moved on and has started dating again. Which Robyn doesn't like. He finds Gwen too weird for his tastes. Besides he likes Dream's letter the best. Which puts the house at odds. Robyn wants to go to New York for Valentine's Day, Hob wants to go to a cabin for the weekend with Gwen. They fight about it all day long until Eurydice, Robyn's new friend, uses her parent's travel agency to put him on a plane.

Robyn's going to New York to see his new dad <3

- 🤜 anon

ANON I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GRATEFUL IN MY LIFE THAT YOU DECIDED TO COME AND GRACE MY INBOX WITH THIS. BECAUSE THIS IS GLORIOUS.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~

Hob has never been more panicked in his entire life than he was when he got the phone call from his babysitter that Robyn wasn't at home. The ensuing fight with Gwen had been quick, vicious, and frustrating. She had understood his need to go after Robyn, of course, but when she found out that Robyn had left to meet this mystery letter person, they'd had a fight over the love letter that Hob still carried in his wallet.

(Why did he carry the letter in his wallet? How long had he had the loopy handwriting memorized, how long had he known every single word, no matter how many times he'd read it....)

Hob had taken Gwen home, and had accepted her demand to delete her number from his phone and hauled ass to the airport, purchasing a ticket the second he hit the counter, racing to the gate in time. The flight was agonizing, and Robyn had clearly turned his phone off, no matter how many times Hob looked at it and begged for his kid to answer one of his dozen or so texts.

~!~

Perhaps Dream should have known that Calliope would not stand to play second fiddle to anyone, even an imaginary man who had no basis or truth in reality. Yet when she'd handed him the ring back with a regretful look, he'd felt nothing but relief. He had no doubt that in another world, they could, perhaps, find happiness together, but every time Dream looked at the Empire State Building... he wondered.

Strange that the sound of a single man's voice had made him decide to abandon all reason. But Robert Gadling (call him Hob, according to his adorable son) had sounded so wistful and so lovely that it had been impossible not to be drawn to the possibility of offering what it was that the man was seeking. No matter that he lived across the entire country and the possibility of him being at the top of the Empire State Building tonight was so unlikely as to be called impossible...

The romantic in him couldn't deny it how much he wanted Hob to be waiting for him there. Even if Dream had no idea what he looked like, or how someone like Robyn would like him, it didn't matter. The possibility of it all was a break in the 'fine' that it seemed had been suffocating him his entire life.

So Dream raced to the Empire State Building, barely making it past the guard, promising a quick look before he left, and ran out onto the observation deck. The sight of no one there, only an empty chill, had his heart sinking, because of course he'd been foolish, of course he had wanted too much, wanted the impossible - when the door opened behind him.

Standing there was a man, with his son, and they were in the middle of an argument.

"I told you no one would be up here, they were closed-"

"But Dad, his letter promised! He promised!"

"I know, but sometimes adults make promises that they can't keep," Hob said, his voice softening, gentling.

Dream stared in shock, because it was impossible not to recognize both of those voices. He'd heard them in his dreams for weeks now, and they likely hadn't seen him because of his all black ensemble. He cleared his throat and stepped into the orange light from the inside.

"I am in the habit of keeping my promises," he offered up, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He stepped closer, even tough it was clear that they were both in shock. A moment later, Robyn was barreling toward him, and Dream caught the boy against his legs carefully, well aware that Robert Gadling (Hob, Hob, his name was Hob) was watching. "It's a pleasure to meet you Robyn."

"I knew you'd come, Mr. Dream. You promised. You said that everyone needs to have dreams, and how important they are, no matter how fantastical they are!" Robyn said, his face pressed tight to him. "You're perfect for Dad, I just know it."

Dream swallowed down the instinctive disagreement, because he was far from perfect for anyone, and in fact, it was the distinct opposite, where he was often too much. "I think that will be up to your Dad and I to determine, Robyn. But I have you to thank for our meeting." He knelt down, uncaring of he cold granite on his knees and met the warm brown eyes of the boy who loved his father so much, he'd tried to do the impossible.

"No matter what happens, Robyn, never forget how important it is to-"

"Put magic into the world," Hob finished, quoting Dream's letter from memory, meeting the wild blue eyes that sent his heart stuttering all over again. "Because if we do not make our own magic, if we do not rejoice in the magic there is to be had, it will fade away before we even know what we have lost."

Dream's breath caught and he stared at Hob. "You read my letter," he whispered.

"Dad keeps it tucked in his wallet," Robyn stage-whispered. "He's read it so many times when he thought I wasn't looking. I think he needs a little magic."

Dream's lips quirked and he grinned as Hob began to flush, his cheeks growing more and more red by the second. "Does he now?" He reached out and gave Robyn's hands a small squeeze before standing and moving closer to where Robert Gadling was tugging at his ear lobe in embarrassment.

"Hello Robert," Dream breathed, his voice soft. "My name is Morpheus Endless, but I would have you call me Dream."

"Hello Dream," Hob repeated, his voice soft, reverent. He could feel his cheeks were flaming red because the most beautiful man he'd ever seen swayed closer to him. "Call me Hob, please? If that's not too weird?"

Dream nodded. "Hob," he agreed. "You kept my letter?"

Hob nodded and reached out to pull it from his letter, unfolding it carefully. "I, I used to be a medieval professor. No one hand writes letters anymore. But yours was handwritten."

"Of course. It was important," Dream whispered. "It had to be a little bit magical. For the man I fell a little in love with over a radio show."

Hob gasped, his eyes widening. There was a story in the way Dream's chin tilted up, unrepentant, but aware it was too much, that it should be too much. It was a story he very much wanted to discover. He swallowed and looked down at Robyn who was grinning wildly at both of them.

"I think I fell a little in love with you when you turned around to tell Robyn you always keep your promises," Hob admitted, his heart pounding. Pink streaked across Dream's cheekbones and he wanted to chase it with his lips. "But don't you live in New York? We, we don't..."

"As it turns out," Dream said, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I am a children's author who is quite able to work from wherever he likes. So perhaps, I could offer my guest room to you both this evening, and I could visit the west coast soon?"

"Really soon, Mr. Dream?" Robyn asked. "Please?"

Dream winked at Hob and looked down at Robyn. "If I can manage it, I have every intention of flying back on the same flight as both of you. I can't have someone else stealing your father away when I have decided to properly court him, after all."

The noise that escaped his throat was embarrassing, but hearing Dream say that he intended to COURT him was... he wasn't the one who should be COURTED, not when Dream was, was, he was the one who deserved to be courted!

"If he will have me of course," Dream added, meeting Hob's eyes again. "I am perhaps out of practice, but I will do my best."

Hob could see the hesitancy there, the worry, and if he wasn't halfway in love with Dream already from that small declaration, he didn't know himself at all. So instead, he reached out, tangled his hands in the collar of Dream's jacket and pulled him in close. "We can practice together," he breathed against Dream's lips, swallowing his gasp with a soft kiss.

They broke apart to Robyn's loud cheer followed by the pointed clearing of the throat of the elevator bellman. Hob laughed and pressed his forehead against Dream's, holding onto his hand tightly as they made their way to the exit. Perhaps it would end horribly, perhaps it was a dream not meant to last, but...

Dream didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

Or on the flight home.

Or on the car ride back to his house.

Or when he offered the use of his guest room in return for Dream's kindness.

Or, when, three weeks later, he admitted that he had fallen in proper love, and he wanted Dream to stay.

Dream didn't let go, and Hob let himself believe in the magic of happily ever after.

[memekais]

the magnus archives sentence starters. s1ep11-16 feel free to change pronouns as needed!

First off, I should admit that I lied to get in here.

Whether you believe it or not, well, that’s up to you. I just don’t feel like I could rightly go on my way without at least trying to explain myself.

You see, I had a dream about you.

There are so many people who die in London, and I know so few of them.

I recognize you from my dreams.

Did rich people die less? Or perhaps they just had greater control over where they died?

I’m well aware that I don’t even know your name, and I have no responsibility to try and prevent whatever fate is coming for you.

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine.

If anyone comes in ranting about dreaming my death, then I very much want to hear about it.

Whatever was going on there, I wanted no part of it.

For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.

I get the feeling I’m being watched. Not threatened or judged, just watched.

Really? Does that thing even work? It must be thirty years old.

I see why no-one takes you guys seriously.

You’re under no obligation to speak to us.

Probably best to start over. Name, date, subject, et cetera.

What happened was weird and, alright, I can’t think of a rational explanation for it, but I was distraught. I still am. I should go. I probably just imagined the whole thing. 

Okay, it’s just… could you stay please? I don’t want to be alone.

I’ve never really been the social type. I’ve always been more comfortable alone, you know?

I wasn’t bullied in school, or anything like that. I mean, to be bullied you need to be noticed, and I made sure that I wasn’t.

I knew my own company and was comfortable with it. I didn’t need other people, and they certainly didn’t need me.

Even here among the dead, I was alone.

I’d say it was only real insofar as trauma can have a very real effect on the mind.

Let’s get one thing straight right off – this is not a goddamn confession, alright?

If you go to the police with this, I will deny every word, and I know enough about the law to know that even if I spill my guts to you about all the horrible things I’ve done, it will count for nothing in court.

I need you to tell me that it’s just coincidence and my mind’s playing tricks, and I need to not lose any more bits of me.

I’d say that I was due a bit of payback, and I certainly got it.

I’ve met plenty of born losers in my time but I’ve never met someone so intent on being a screw-up as you.

Yes, I did want you dead. And more than that, I wanted you to suffer.

You’ve got to understand, I know dangerous, I understand dangerous, hell, I am dangerous. This was something else.

No matter what happens to me, the memory of that look of panicked terror will stay with me.

Some hungers are too strong to be denied.

Look, it doesn’t matter. I just need your help. I need this to stop. I don’t know how, but this is your area, right? This is what you do.

I need you to help me. I need you to save me from whatever is happening.

It felt like the earth itself was trying to kick my ass.

I hate spiders. I know, I know, everyone hates spiders. Any time there’s any list of the top however many fears, they’re always up there, and whole horror franchises have been built on the basic premise that people hate spiders.

I hate spiders, as I have said, but I would have sworn that this one hated me back.

Can you be haunted by the ghost of a spider that destroyed your childhood?

[iztarshi]

It's odd in retrospect how almost uninterested Viktor is in the theft of the hexgem in season one.

Jayce is panicked about it and his reactions are heavy-handed. Coming down hard on anything even tangentially related, like smuggling, and worse on the whole of Zaun, as if they were all terrorists. Also offering to shut down the hexgates, which are an entirely unrelated use of hextech (although it would have saved a lot of trouble if they had been shut down, it has nothing to do with Jinx or her theft of the hexgem).

Viktor on the other hand seems indifferent. Jayce is elected to the council to fix the problem of a terrorist stealing a power source he and Viktor created, but Viktor's response is that Jayce's council work is "not the best use of our time" - and he's maybe right about checking shipping manifests but he's not suggesting anything else, he wants Jayce in the lab. Viktor dissects Jinx's monkey bomb, but only concludes her being able to use hextech would be "a stretch". Mostly he seems disappointed this is delaying moving onto their new projects. He's upset (rightly) by the response to it, when Jayce wants to make weapons or blockades the bridge, but the idea of someone from Zaun making a powerful weapon seems like he just... doesn't believe in it?

[owlbelly]

okay i seem to be gradually leaving the ~24hr period of temporal lobe hell i was just in, so i kind of want to write a little bit about what i'm calling "deja vu panic attacks" in case it's useful to anyone else who follows me. i don't know if there's a real term for this phenomenon somewhere - searching for the symptoms turned up a lot of overlap with a particular type of epilepsy & while i'm 99% sure i'm not having seizures (i had a student with this kind of epilepsy so i've seen them happen! it's pretty different), it was making me feel worse to keep reading all that, so. "deja vu panic" it is

my particular blend of depression/anxiety/PTSD (+ neurodivergence?) comes with very occasional dissociative episodes - mostly derealization & depersonalization, but i definitely think this deja vu panic thing falls into a dissociative category too. weirdly it's only happened to me twice, once back in 2019 & again just now. this is how it goes: i'm minding my own business going about my regular life (encountering no identifiable triggers) then suddenly i'll have the overwhelming sense that i either dreamed this exact moment or lived it in a past i've somehow returned to, which is combined with instant & total emotional certainty that i am doomed. sympathetic nervous system immediately flushes my body with so much adrenaline & cortisol that i feel cold/sick/dizzy/numb. once the acute "deja vu" moment has passed i'm left with a lingering sense of unreality & dread, like my perspective on my entire life has just shifted horribly & i don't know if i'll ever feel normal or be who i was before this ever again. the acute attacks just continue to happen over a period of hours - in 2019 i only had 2 attacks a few hours apart & started to feel normal after ~12 hours, but this time i had 5 acute attacks over a period of 12 hours & am only approaching normalcy after 24. i don't know what to make of that BUT here's what seemed to help:

physical comfort from & verbal interaction with loved ones. this includes cats. thank you cats for purring, thank you Jules for chatting with me, thank you Laurel & Jey for hugging/talking/letting me cry on you.

unusual/unexpected tactile sensations. a lot of the shit people are supposed to do for dissociation doesn't work for me because i'm a vivid dreamer who experiences nearly every sensation while i'm sleeping, so if i feel like i'm in a dreamlike state, naming 3-5 regular things i can see/touch/hear/taste is just not cutting it. however! something weird or intense is useful if trapped in the deja vu state. for example today Laurel dropped an ice cube down my fucking shirt because they rightly suspected it would jolt me (they asked first). it did!

radical acceptance of being in hell. okay hear me out. i noticed in between attacks that sometimes i would start to feel the deja vu coming on & if i turned towards it in my awareness (like "oh what's that? do i remember this?") i would move right into panic, while if i avoided it ("nope! distraction time") i could stave it off for a while but eventually it would catch up with me and i'd panic again. surprisingly, one side effect of being worn down by 12+ hours of this cycle was that i started to feel it coming & instead responded with "yup. that feeling. that's how we feel now. it's horrible" which amazingly led to NOT PANICKING. not panicking over a period of hours eventually led to not feeling so fucking dissociated, which appears to be leading to normalcy??

like, even as i'm writing this & rereading parts of it, i still feel pretty strongly that all this has happened before - everything feels familiar, but it's NOT feeling like i'm going to die or like my life is about to be horribly changed. i'm taking that as progress & hoping that tomorrow i don't even feel the deja vu anymore

as for "why did this happen" - i have no fucking idea. did i just get back from a very stressful trip? yes. am i anxious about the state of the world? always. but it's like my brain just spins a wheel where the options are various kinds of stress response & this one is an extremely tiny but outrageously horrible sliver of that wheel. love that for me!!!

[floralseokjin]

⤑ 9 months to fall in love 21.

It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader au/genre; unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, slow burn, romance (dare I say romcom in places), smut, angst, (melo)drama, dual pov words; 5,404

warnings/includes (!) mild angst, Oc is feeling very shaken up and emotional (rightly so), mentions of parental death, hospital phobia, sweet confessions 😘

⟶ ao3 link

*inspired by the manhwa ‘Positively Yours.’

↪︎ series index

SEASON THREE ⇤ previous | next ⇥

Seokjin couldn’t remember hightailing it out of the building and getting into his car. Hell, it was a wonder he remembered his keys. All he could think about was getting to you. You all alone in a hospital room. You hated hospitals. He tried to recount the phone call, willing himself to take some deep breaths and calm down. Seokjin prided himself on his crisis-management, but there was no handling this. In fact, ever since you’d come into his life, you’d blown every skill and practise he knew. Thinking rationally right now was impossible. Still, he tried. 

“It was a minor collision.” 

“There’s no need to worry, Mr. Kim.” 

“There are no serious injuries. Both your wife and baby are doing fine.” 

The phone call was meant to ease his worries, but the more he heard the woman’s words in his head, the more panicked he felt. He felt helpless. Why had he suggested that you go home early? You could have stayed at his office. You could have gone home together. Safe. Instead, he’d sent you off in a doomed taxi. Anything could’ve happened to you or Sarang. To both of you. It didn’t bear thinking about. He felt sick, stomach roiling and roiling. This car journey was taking forever, making him feel even more useless. 

At what must have been the tenth red light, he yelled loudly and crashed his hand against the steering wheel, his horn blaring. A few pedestrians shot him wary looks, hurrying across the road. Others were annoyed, cursing at him, but Seokjin didn’t care. All he cared about was getting to you. 

Finally arriving at the hospital, he barely parked his car correctly, jumping out and rushing for reception. He heard the man at the desk tell him what floor you were on, what room, without really hearing him at all. The elevator was infuriatingly slow, and he was almost pushing the doors open when it finally arrived. He hurried down the corridor, thinking about how he hadn’t even told you he loved you yet. He’d felt it for so long, but something held him back from saying the words out loud. At one point in time it had been too soon, but now he didn’t understand what it was. Whatever the reason, it seemed foolish now. 

He burst through the door. You were sat up in the bed, your phone in your lap, but you’d heard him, the relief on your face instant. He rushed towards you, wrapping you into a hug. “Thank God you’re all right,” he breathed, squeezing tight. He felt you relax against him, shaking, and your fingers dug into his back, holding him just as close. 

Suddenly he registered how hard he was embracing you and pulled back. Was he hurting you? Were you in pain? He gently stroked your face with his fingers, noticing a small cut just below your left eye. He was trembling too. 

“What happened? God—,” He hugged you again, not in control of his own body. “I don’t know what I would have—” done if I’d lost you, he wanted to confess, but stopped, overcome with emotion. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried to think of something else to say. Something collected. He needed to be calm for your sake. You needed him to be there for you, composed and in control. Not the panicky, fuzzy mess he felt like inside. 

Your eyes were filled with fright as you stared at him. His heart broke. “Seokjin—” 

He spoke over you, the concern overwhelming him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t feel strange?” 

You didn’t reply straight away, a small crease slowly forming between your eyebrows. “I’m fine,” you finally managed, a hand falling to your bump. “So is Sarang.” 

Seokjin blinked. There was something off about the tone of your voice, steely. Your jaw was clenched, he noticed. You must have been in pain, but he shouldn’t press it. He stroked a hand through your hair and kissed the top of your head. “Good.” 

Again, he couldn’t imagine the alternative. Losing you and Sarang would have killed him. 

He couldn’t help himself and hugged you once more at the thought, but this time you didn’t reciprocate, still clutching your belly protectively. He pulled back unsurely, placing his hand over yours. “What’s wrong? Are you sure everything’s fine? Should I—” 

Get a doctor, he was about to say, but just at that moment, the door opened and in one entered. 

“What happened?” Seokjin heard himself demand immediately. He was perched on the bed but moved to the chair beside it, not wanting to crowd you. 

“Mr. Kim,” he began carefully, as doctors did. For some reason, it irritated Seokjin to no end right now. Before he could continue however, you spoke up. 

“Someone went into the side of the taxi.” 

Seokjin’s heart clenched and he went to reach for one of your hands, but by now both were over your stomach, almost as if you were guarding your daughter. 

“Everything is fine,” the doctor reassured. “Your wife has been thoroughly checked over. There’s a small cut caused by her fingernail, and she’s slightly sore, but that shall dissipate in a few days – a week at the most. The baby is healthy too. Her heartbeat is strong, and we’ve checked for signs of placental abruption. However…” 

Seokjin felt bile rise in his throat at the word. 

“Considering you’re so heavily pregnant, ____,” the doctor continued, addressing you now. “I want you to stay the night. It’s only a precaution – you and your baby are healthy – but it’s best to be safe. Is that all right?” 

Seokjin noticed how tense you’d gotten, your nod of agreement wooden. When the doctor left, he was immediately over you again, worried hands stroking through your hair, down your arms. He might be being dramatic, his emotions heightened, but it felt as though he’d come this close to losing you and Sarang. “Do you want me to ask if I can stay with you?” 

“No, it’s all right. I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” he pressed anxiously. “I know how much you hate—” 

“I said I’m fine, Seokjin,” you gritted out, shoulders stiff. “And will you stop fussing!” 

Seokjin’s hands froze at your raised voice, realising he was fluffing up the pillows behind your back. “Sorry.” Was he being too much? He felt like he was, but this situation felt so out of his control, he couldn’t help it. 

“I need to call my dad and let him know,” you muttered, phone in your hand. 

“Do you want me to do it?” he asked, watching you hesitate before slowly nodding your head. 

“Thanks.” 

He stepped out of the room, running an uneasy hand through his hair. Something was wrong, or correction, he’d done something wrong. He just didn’t know what. He wracked his brain, feeling like an asshole. If he’d upset you, he should know why. You’d looked so relieved when he burst into the room, you’d hugged him tightly, and then he couldn’t really remember much of what he’d said. His mind felt foggy, had since the phone call, and he was still shaking. 

Maybe he was looking too much into it. Maybe he was being overly sensitive, anxious. You’d been through something traumatic, no wonder you weren’t yourself and seemed so withdrawn. Seokjin coddling you was probably making things worse. 

With a shaky sigh, he composed himself, needing to call your father and let him know what had happened. 

.

.

Your dad and Yeonja wanted to drive down immediately once they heard the news. Seokjin managed to convince them not to. They lived over an hour away and by the time they arrived it would be late. Besides, everything was fine, there was no need to be worried sick. Thank God. But you didn’t feel fine. Not emotionally anyway. It didn’t help that you and Seokjin had barely spoken a few words since he’d arrived. He’d given up trying in the end, casting cautious glances your way every now and then, which only aggravated you further. He really had no clue why you were so upset with him. The dejected look on his face wasn’t going to make you feel guilty. It wasn’t. 

When the silence started to become unbearable, Yuna ended up saving the day. You’d told her to stay home too, but as always, she didn’t listen. You didn’t even know how she’d managed a visit at such a late hour, but here she was. You felt oddly emotional when she hugged you, once again remembering how the accident could have been much, much worse. It still didn’t feel real. 

Seokjin left soon after that. That careful look still in his eyes, only now it was tinged with reluctance. He didn’t want to leave you. The thought made your throat thicken, and for a moment you wanted to grab hold of his hand and ask him to stay, but then the hurt crept in again, stubbornness soon following. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” he murmured, stroking the back of your head. You were getting discharged first thing. 

“Okay,” you nodded, turning your head so the kiss he’d aimed for your lips slid across your cheek. You felt his hand stop its motions, surprised. He straightened up and you could sense him staring at you a moment or two before he turned to say his goodbyes to Yuna. You thought you might start to relax when you heard the door close with his departure, but you were still as stiff as ever. 

“Okay. What was that?” 

Your back went poker straight at Yuna’s question, which hurt like hell because your shoulders ached. “What was what?” you asked defensively. 

Yuna stared at you from where she was sat across the room. “The cold shoulder I just witnessed. Did you guys argue?” 

You were surprised she hadn’t picked up on the atmosphere already, but maybe she’d put the taut silence down to the shock of the accident. “No. He just—I just,” you took a deep breath, unsure where you were going with this. “When he got here he was only worried about me.” 

“Of course he was worried about you. You were in a car accident,” she said, which sounded a lot like are you stupid?

“No. I mean: only me. He didn’t ask about Sarang.” 

Yuna still wasn’t getting it, her brow pinched. “You do realise you two come as a package deal right now, right?” 

“Yuna.” 

Your sharp tone seemed to clarify things for her, her gaze growing concerned. “You’re really upset about this.” 

And just like that you started crying.  

You hadn’t cried at all since the taxi got hit, but now every emotion you’d been suppressing – no, controlling, seemed to break free. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Yuna was saying, rushing towards you. “What’s with the tears?” She perched on the side of the bed, her arm wrapping around you. 

“This is what I get,” you croaked, voice wrenching upward at the last word. You sniffed against her shoulder. “I kept saying how over this pregnancy I was. How eager I was for it to end.” Not a few hours ago you’d said exactly that to Yoongi. 

“Hang on. You think this is some kind of karma?” When you didn’t reply, Yuna squeezed you gently. “____, you realise how ridiculous that sounds?” 

“I know,” you agreed, voice quivering. “But I just kept thinking while they were checking me over, if anything happens to her it’ll be my fault.” 

You could physically feel Yuna shaking her head. “Listen to me,” she practically implored. “It wouldn’t have been your fault. It wasn’t your fault.” Then, with a mutter, she added, “It was that asshole who can’t drive’s fault.” 

“It was an accident,” you said quietly. You couldn’t find it in you to blame the middle-aged man who’d been driving the car that hit you. He’d stayed and called the emergency services, ashen faced and apologising profusely. He’d been completely compliant, breathalysed by the cops, answered every single question and more. The taxi driver had a sprained wrist. You were a little sore and had a cut on your face, but you were safe and so was Sarang. 

Sometimes these things just happened, which was ironic for you to conclude seeing as you were blaming yourself for putting your daughter at risk. You knew that, understood that, yet you couldn’t stop it. 

“It would have been on me if something had happened,” you heard yourself confess. “I’m the one carrying her.” She was your responsibility. “But Seokjin only seemed to care about how I was doing.” And he didn’t seem to blame you like you blamed yourself. Maybe that was the issue….

“I seriously doubt that,” Yuna reasoned. “He loves you both so much. You only have to take one look at him to see that.” You didn’t say anything, guilt creeping in. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, babe,” she continued. “When people are upset they find it hard to articulate their words. It would be Seokjin’s worst nightmare if anything happened to the both of you, and for a moment, however small, he probably thought it had.” 

You recalled the look on his face when he surged through the door. You had never seen him so panicked. How tight he’d held you; how much he’d been shaking. 

Yuna stroked up and down your arm. “This was a horrible thing to happen, and I know everything is fine, but it’s still frightening. You’re shaken up, but cut him some slack and maybe don’t put words in his mouth.” You snorted, it was half-assed, you couldn’t think to laugh right now, even if Yuna was not-so-subtly telling you off. She wasn’t done either. “—And if you want him to blame you, then that’s just stupid, ____. I’m sorry, I should be being nice to you right now, but I also need to be honest.” 

You lifted your head, rubbed your cheeks dry. “You’re right.” 

Yuna smiled and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting late, and they wouldn’t let her stay much longer, despite how they’d let her in at all. She gave you one last hug. “Love you lots. Try to get some sleep tonight,” she told you, eyes filled with worry, before they narrowed, turning darker with warning. “And talk to Seokjin in the morning.” 

She was totally flabbergasted when you nodded and told her you loved her too. 

Despite feeling like you wanted to sleep for an entire day—no, an entire week, you managed virtually nothing. It didn’t come as a surprise. The buzzing silence inside the hospital only heightened the anxious weight pressing down on your chest. The chemical smell making you nauseated. At some point you knew you’d have to work through your fear, but every time you closed your eyes, you saw your mom. Her unconscious and hooked up to machines, barely clinging to life. Your worst memories were at a hospital, and being here only made you miss her more. You wished she was still here to see how your life had turned out. To meet her granddaughter. 

At the thought of Sarang, your heart ached, imagining what could have happened if the accident had been worse. How you would have lived with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t get stuck on that. It wasn’t healthy, and the last thing you needed right now was more worry. You needed to concentrate on the good. How lucky you had been even if you felt like the unluckiest person in the world.

You had your health; you had your baby; you had Seokjin. You felt guilt roil through you. This was the first night spent apart in God knows how long, and you’d parted in the worst possible way. How could you doubt him? You were appalled with yourself. You’d acted irrationally and pushed him away because you were scared and blaming yourself. It was a regression, when you’d worked so hard to change such a behaviour. But maybe that’s what fear did…

You were happy to feel Sarang move about inside you. She was keeping you company and reminding you that she was perfectly fine. Her mom on the other hand…

The next morning you felt like death warmed up, and couldn’t wait to go home and shower, then promptly fall asleep in your own bed. But first you needed to speak to Seokjin. He arrived just before 9am, but the look on his face immediately clogged the apology you’d been rehearsing for the past two hours. His expression was guarded, and he barely made eye contact with you. Any talking you did was required. He was distant and subdued. This time there was no hug or kiss and you felt even more terrible. Terrible for hurting him and terrible for feeling hurt that he wasn’t giving you those things. What did you expect? You’d turned away from him last night. 

After you’d changed into the clothes he’d brought you, and the prolonged silence had become completely unbearable, you forced your mouth to work. “Seokjin, I’m—” You were interrupted by a hesitant knock at the door. 

“Yes?” Seokjin answered, sat underneath the TV on the wall. To your surprise, when the door opened, the taxi driver from last night was stood there holding a bunch of flowers. 

“I hope you don’t mind me intruding,” he said, tone uncertain as he held up the bouquet. “I, uh, I came to bring you these.” 

.

.

Seokjin helped you out of the car and took the flowers from you. As you both walked up to the front of the house, your neighbour appeared from theirs, greeting you with a friendly hello. You tried your best to match their energy, but by now you were running on empty. Your shoulders ached from impact and exhaustion. You followed Seokjin inside and slid off your shoes. The familiar smell of your home made you feel marginally better. 

“I’ll put these in water,” Seokjin muttered, rushing off towards the kitchen, escaping you it felt like. 

The taxi driver – Dal – had been filled with guilt all night and wanted to apologise. You and Seokjin repeatedly assured him there was nothing to be sorry about, he wasn’t to blame, and you silently told yourself to take heed of your own words. Except, you did have something to be sorry about, yet you still hadn’t had a chance to say the words to Seokjin. You’d been interrupted at the hospital, and the entire car ride had been such an anxious affair for you, you hadn’t been able to speak. Seokjin was always a careful driver, but he seemed to drive slower today, as if he was aware being back inside a vehicle would be frightening for you. And now, as soon as you’d gotten inside, he was disappearing. 

You couldn’t tell whether he was angry at you (rightly so) or if he still thought you were angry at him and was giving you space. You followed him into the kitchen, I’m sorry on the tip of your tongue, but when he looked up and saw you, his eyes widened. “____, go and shower, then try to get some sleep.” 

“I will, I just—” 

“I’ve got this,” he said softly, gesturing to the flowers. “You must be exhausted.” 

You were exhausted, and you knew he could tell that by your face. Under your eyes were dark and puffy from lack of sleep. When Seokjin turned his back to you, starting to snip away at the stems, you gave up. He obviously didn’t want to have this conversation right now, more concerned about you resting. Or he just didn’t want to have the conversation, period. You didn’t really blame him. 

With a resigned sigh, you made your way to the bedroom. You knew he wasn’t going to work today, he’d told you last night, so you’d have time to talk things through after your nap. It would have to wait. Despite everything that had happened in the last 14 hours or so, the hot shower did you good. It relieved practically all the tension in your shoulders and eased your sore muscles. As soon as you got into bed you fell asleep. The size of your stomach not an issue for once. 

You awoke several hours later, not quite refreshed, but feeling more human again. Now that you were out of the hospital, you could put the traumatic incident behind you. You were going to give birth in a few weeks, you had more important things to think about. Rising eventually, you shrugged on your robe over your pyjamas– a fluffy, lilac one that Seokjin had bought you because you kept stealing his – and made your way downstairs, into the main living area. It was 5pm you noticed when you switched on the television, Seokjin must be in his office where you guessed he’d been all day. You were absently watching the news, wondering if you should interrupt him, when the doorbell echoed through the house. You struggled out of the sofa, half expecting a distressed Yeonja to be waiting outside. When you finally made it out of the living room, Seokjin was exiting the kitchen in front of you, beating you to the door. When he noticed you, he looked surprised. 

“You’re awake?” 

You nodded. “I didn’t know you were in the kitchen.” 

When he opened the door, you were surprised to see Namjoon. Or at least the outline of him. Seokjin had kindly let him know what had happened after the call with your father. You’d gotten a text from him last night, but you hadn’t been expecting a visit too. Or for him to be balancing five Tupperware boxes in his hands (held against his chest), the largest bunch of flowers you’d ever seen (under his arm), three gift bags (hanging off a wrist), and a balloon – which bizarrely read ‘We will miss you’ in cursive. Everyone at work did realise you’d escaped the car accident unscathed, right?? 

“____, are you okay?” he asked, something like a demand and concern rolled into one. 

“I’m fine,” you reassured. “Honestly.” You appraised him curiously. “What’s all this?” 

“Uh, well…” he started, attempting to readjust the wobbly Tupperware. Seokjin stepped forward, taking them from him. “Thanks, man—We’d planned a little farewell—temporary farewell—party for you today, but considering the circumstances…” 

“Oh.” That explained the balloon. “That’s so sweet of everyone. Thank them for me?” You’d had no idea and felt disappointed that you’d missed it. You’d missed your last day before maternity leave started. 

“Of course.” Namjoon’s gaze was intense, a little frown between his eyebrows. “Everyone was so worried. Yeeun wanted to come with me but I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Should you be standing?” 

“I can, but I’d rather be sitting,” you laughed, jerking your hand for him to follow you. “Come on.”

“I’ll refrigerate these,” Seokjin said, holding up the leftover food. “Do you want something to drink?” 

“I won’t stay long,” Namjoon shook his head. 

Seokjin’s eyes flicked to you, deep with concern. “Angel?” 

You felt your heart lift at the name and smiled at him. “Water would be nice, thank you.” You hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since this morning. He nodded and stopped to take the flowers from Namjoon too. 

As Namjoon followed you into the living room, you had to bat away the balloon with a laugh. It felt good to laugh again. When Seokjin entered with your water, you were sat on the sofa next to Namjoon. Seokjin perched on the arm of the chair opposite. He seemed relaxed in himself, but his smile and quiet laughter didn’t reach his eyes every time he or Namjoon joked lightly about something or other. Namjoon only stayed for a little while, not wanting to encroach on your rest, and with a hug goodbye for you and a promise to see you soon, Seokjin saw him out. 

You half expected Seokjin to go back to the kitchen, as you could now smell something cooking away, but a few moments later he came back to you. He was wearing a green cashmere sweater today and worn jeans, and his dark hair flopped over his forehead – always making him appear boyish. 

“I was in the middle of making dinner,” he explained, then tried a smile. “Although, it looks like we’ll have enough food until next week with what Namjoon brought over. What would you prefer—” 

“Seokjin, will you sit for a minute?” you interrupted, tapping the recently vacated seat next to you. 

“Of course. Is everything okay?” He studied you hesitantly, coming to sit, and you fought the urge to reach out for him. 

“Yes. That nap was very well needed. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” 

Seokjin didn’t look happy at that, one corner of his mouth turning down. He swept the hair out of his eyes, and you couldn’t stop it any longer, you needed to feel him. Resting your head against his shoulder you took in his scent, feeling better already. How had you been so mad at him? It seemed silly now. He relaxed after a moment, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you softly. It was scary to think you might never have been able to be in his arms again if things had turned out differently yesterday. Things could have turned out worse, much worse. As if sensing your thoughts, Seokjin kissed the top of your head, his following exhale shaky. You craned a look up at him, your neck aching slightly but you ignored it. He gently traced the cut on your cheekbone with the pad of his finger, brown furrowing slightly with consternation. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I was being unfair last night.”

You felt him stiffen, his fingers flexing before he cupped your jaw. “No, it’s fine. You had a fright.” 

“So did you. And it’s not fine. I know I hurt you.” 

He stared into your eyes a moment, then nodded. “I just… I’m a bit confused by what I was meant to have done.” His hand dropped from your face and he stared ahead, looking at the TV but not watching it. “I couldn’t sleep, wondering, but I think—I’m assuming—it’s because I didn’t mention Sarang last night.” 

You hated the thought of him tormenting himself all alone. “You didn’t do anything. I was blaming myself for the accident and I just kept thinking what if something had happened to our daughter. I was mad at myself.” 

Seokjin looked over at you incredulously. “But you shouldn’t have been—,” 

“I know. I was being ridiculous. But when you came bursting in, worried and asking how I was, I just… Maybe I wanted you to blame me too. Or maybe I just couldn’t understand why she wasn’t your sole concern.” You shrugged, unsure what you’d been thinking really and feeling terrible about it. “I don’t know.” 

“____, you are both my sole concern.” He sounded frustrated. Then softer, he murmured, “You both mean so much to me. Receiving that phone call was the worst moment of my life. I knew everything was all right, I was trying to reassure myself the entire way to the hospital, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about what I would do if something ever happened to you and Sarang.” Shaking his head, he stared down at his lap. “I put you in that taxi. Me. How would I live?” 

Hearing him say that felt as if your heart was physically being torn out. You blinked back tears and wrapped your arms around him. “Don’t think like that. Everything is okay now.” 

He nodded against your throat, then pulled back slightly to hold your face in his hands, eyes glassy. “You two are the most important thing in my life. I’m sorry I made it seem that I was only concerned about you last night but that wasn’t the case. At all.” 

“I know,” you whispered. It hurt you knowing he felt the need to apologise. “I’m sorry for ever doubting you. I was upset and took it out on you.” 

“It would kill me if I lost either one of you.” Seokjin’s voice trembled, and for one awful moment you thought he was going to cry. You’d never seen him cry before and you never wanted to. 

You kissed his mouth gently, absorbing the feel of him. “You won’t. Nothing is going to happen to us.” 

“I was so scared,” he admitted quietly against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist, pressing as tight as he could without squashing your stomach. “I don’t want to keep you out of my sight.” 

You tried to make a joke, mouth quirking lamely. “That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.” 

He didn’t laugh, just stared at you seriously. “I’m going to tell you something.” He wet his mouth, “and you might not want to hear it yet, but I need to tell you.” He sounded desperate. “I should have told you months ago but I—I didn’t want to—” 

“Seokjin,” you muttered, suddenly nervous. What was wrong?” 

He stroked up your back once, the warmth of his hands burning through your layers of clothing somehow. “I love you.” 

Your eyes widened. He kissed your mouth, breath unsteady.  “I love you,” he repeated, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands moved down and around, holding your bump. “I love you and Sarang so much.” 

You managed to swallow the lump of emotion lodged in your throat. Subconsciously, you already knew this, but hearing him say the words out loud made you realise how much you’d needed them. You needed to say it back, for him too, but a beeping started to fill the room, interrupting you. It was a phone. His phone, muffled inside his jeans pocket it sounded like. An alarm for dinner, you concluded hazily. 

Seokjin swallowed, sobering up instantly. “I need to check that.” 

He stopped holding you and got up from the sofa. You watched him leave, simply staring at the door in disbelief for a minute or so. What had just happened? Finally coming to your senses, you rushed after him, finding him in the kitchen with his back turned to you, preparing vegetables. You could hear the rhythmic chopping against the cutting board. 

He knew you were there, watching him, because you saw his shoulders tense. As you stepped closer, you noticed the hand that was cutting the bell peppers was shaking slightly. You closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him from behind. “Why did you think I might not want to hear that?” you asked quietly. 

He paused and placed the knife down, simply staring at the countertop. “I don’t know,” he admitted haltingly. 

“I love you too, Seokjin.” You felt him relax. “You know I do, don’t you?” 

You hated to think he’d been holding back because he thought you didn’t share his feelings. When you’d been so certain of his…

“I… Yes.” He cleared his throat, insecurity seeping into his next words. “But there was a part of me…” 

“How couldn’t I?” Your laughter was soft, barely there, but inside you were hurting for him. How come he couldn’t realise how great he was? “You’re…you.” 

You let him go when he started to turn around and face you. “I don’t know what that means,” he said, but there was a small smile playing on his lips. You stepped towards him, as far as you could, and circled your arms around his neck. He brought his to your waist, and kissed you like he couldn’t help it. 

“Well, you should,” you told him. “You’re so good to me.” Your hands slipped through his hair, down a little to hold his face. “You’re just good, and I feel really lucky to have you.” Sarang chose that moment to chime in too, jabbing you, and in the process, Seokjin as well. “That’s her telling you she loves you too.” 

He laughed; a beautiful, rolling sound that sounded completely happy and at ease. Listening to it made your heart swell. 

“You are everything to me and her. I love you,” you whispered, kissing him and feeling him melt against you. 

It was the best feeling in the world. 

Written 2022 - 2023. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2023

[merchantarthurn]

Speaking of OCs, DND went well yesterday by which I mean our DM still hasn't managed to kill one of characters even though the campaign book recommends trying to do that in the first session. We had 3no. Level 4 characters and an NPC up against a chimera and we were fine, forgot to short rest, got into a fight with a CR5 swarm of cranium rats with almost no resources left where both our tank and healer went down and still had no deaths (it was a close one though). One of our PCs hasn't taken a single point of damage since the start of the campaign. Which is bonkers.

Thibault also nearly talked his way through a room full of cake-obsessed cultists and only really failed because our wizard rightly assumed he was running out of polite reasons not to eat the Very Suspicious Cake and panicked lmao

[when-we-drive-away-in-secret]

aside from Lesbian Reasons™︎ (understandable.), what is it about esme that makes you adore her so?

Ooooooh boy I am SO glad you asked

Okay, so first off I just think she's fun. Like, obviously a terrible person, but a fascinating character—the show kind of did her dirty in some regards, but if we go off the books, she's definitely one of the most competent adults, and yet no one actually seems to acknowledge it?

Like, especially in terms of the fandom, people CONSTANTLY underestimate her as a character, but I'm so intrigued by her. We're introduced to her as just another terrible guardian; selfish, arrogant, frivolous. Not a terrible person, but not a good one, either. She cares more about trends and appearances than the lives of children, but there doesn't seem to be any real malice in it. And then the children tell her everything; they've discovered a good portion of her and Olaf's plan, and if it were Olaf confronted with this information, he would have become immediately violent and panicked. He probably would have lashed out, grabbing a child (most likely Sunny) and threatening them to get them to fall in line. Not Esmé, though. She stays perfectly calm, perfectly in-character. She guides the children outside, reassures them, and switches at the last minute, pushing them into a pre-prepared trap. The children—very intelligent, notorious for seeing through disguises—had no idea until they were falling however many feet to their presumed deaths.

Then, even more fascinating, she fools them again. Sure, you can argue the kids didn't interact all that much with officer Luciana, but when Olaf "disguises" himself, it takes them all of two seconds to clock him. Even Fernald is better at disguises than the supposed actor! But Esmé talks to them, has a whole scene in the court, and they have no idea. If I remember rightly, even when Olaf shows up, it's not until the end of the book that they actually clock her. And yet everyone pretends she's the incompetent member of VFD!

Then of course there's the rivalry with Beatrice. We know Esmé tried to save Olaf's parents, and yet Esmé's the villain and Beatrice is the hero (another gorgeous demonstration of the grey-morality typical throughout the entire series). But do we get any explanation? Kit specifically had to get past Esmé to give Beatrice the darts—why? It implies that Esmé was not only aware of what was going on, but actively trying to stop it—did she tell Olaf? Did he not believe her? Did she try anyway, knowing what the deaths of his parents would do to him? (I have my own personal answers to all of these questions, and a long-ago thought up fic plot to explore them, but that's another story). And why was there a tunnel connecting the Baudelaire mansion to the penthouse? In the books, it isn't even a network of tunnels; it's all but stated it was a direct route! Why? Why was Esmé so intent on getting that penthouse? Why didn't she use the tunnel? Or did she? When? And what for?

There are just so many curious elements to her character that I LOVE to think about, and mentally expand upon—but also the lesbian reasons, of course