#this was really confusing when i was 15-16 and adults asked me if they should use Sie. because in my mind i was still a kid

[idissectgermanwords]

I don't like that english uses one pronoun (you) to refer to what in german is four different groups.

du (singular you)

Sie (formal you)

ihr (plural you)

man (general you)

How are you expecting me to know if you're addressing a specific person or not, one person or multiple or what level of familiarity you think we have?

[aspd-culture]

Heya, idk if this is a valid question or is really dumb, but like, does the age at which ASPD behavior starts to show have to be strictly 15?

I have been wondering whether I should get officially diagnosed, since the media and general societal representation of it doesn’t seem as reflecting of me (with exception of a few) but I do relate extremely closely to most of the diagnosing criteria. Although??? The physical aggression thing?? Like I have those impulses and plenty of them, but I just don’t follow through with most because of convenience. That sort of thing is one of the main things that makes me doubt whether I do actually have it. (Same with impulsive behaviors etc)

But my main point/ask is the age thing. As a very young child I was pretty sweet? Ig? Like I wasn’t an aggressive child, rather pretty passive. As far as I recall, my symptoms started when I was about 15-16, when I was starting to process that mine was a traumatic situation? and earlier than that I was just an edgy teen, I guess? I sure had some of the symptons way earlier, but the main ones/ the ones that I feel are more prominent in me didn’t show up until a bit later? I’m not sure. So my question is, does it mean it can’t be ASPD?

Also your page is lifesaving. Thanks man.

Note: due to the way copy and pasting criteria works on tumblr, this post will be written exclusively in plain text, as copying and pasting it all over again would take forever, but I want this post to be accessible still.

I haaaate the way the DSM phrases criteria. Absolutely no worries, it is confusing as heck and you wouldn't be the first person at all to ask about this.

So, the symptoms of Conduct Disorder or Oppositional Defiant Disorder (DSM criteria below) need to show by or before the age of 15. (I do not know if Intermittent Explosive Disorder satisfies this criteria, but it very well may.) That means they may start when you're a toddler, or they may start when you're 14.5. Anywhere in there, you have to qualify for one of those two disorders, but you also do not have to have been diagnosed with them.

Also, having had been an "edgy teen" definitely could have been those symptoms showing themselves. The reason ASPD can't be diagnosed before 18 is because teenage edginess could either be symptoms or be normal, and the only real way to tell is if it continues past teenage and into adulthood.

The diagnostic criteria of Oppostional Defiant Disorder is as follows, quoted from the DSM-V TR:

A. A pattern of angry/iritable mood, argumentative/defiant behavior, or vindictiveness lasting at least 6 months as evidenced by at least four symptoms from any of the following categories, and exhibited during interaction with at least one individual who is not a sibling.

Angry/lrritable Mood

1. Often loses temper

2. Is often touchy or easily annoyed

3. Is often angry and resentful.

Argumentative/Defiant Behavior

4. Often argues with authority figures or, for children and adolescents, with adults.

5. Often actively defies or refuses to comply with requests from authority figures or with rules

6. Often deliberately annoys others

7. Often blames others for his or her mistakes or misbehavior.

Vindictiveness

8. Has been spiteful or vindictive at least twice within the past 6 months

Note: The persistence and frequency of these behaviors should be used to distinguish a behavior that is within normal limits from a behavior that is symptomatic. For children younger than 5 years, the behavior should occur on most days for a period of at least 6 months unless otherwise noted (Criterion A8). For individuals 5 years or older, the behavior should occur at least once per week for at least 6 months, unless otherwise noted (Criterion A8). While these frequency criteria provide guidance on a minimal level of frequency to define symptoms, other factors should also be considered, such as whether the frequency and intensity of the behaviors are outside a range that is normative for the individual's developmental level, gender, and culture.

B. The disturbance in behavior is associated with distress in the individual or others in his or her immediate social context (e.g., family, peer group, work colleagues), or it impacts negatively on social, educational, occupational, or other important areas of functioning

C. The behaviors do not occur exclusively during the course of a psychotic substance use, depressive, or bipolar disorder. Also, the criteria are not met for disruptive mood dysregulation disorder.

[End quote]

Conduct disorder's criteria more clearly shows the lead-in to ASPD.

The diagnostic criteria for Conduct Disorder is as follows, quoted from the DSM-V TR:

A. A repetitive and persistent pattern of behavior in which the basic rights of others or major age-appropriate societal norms or rules are violated, as manifested by the presence of at least three of the following 15 criteria in the past 12 months from any of the categories below, with at least one criterion present in the past 6 months:

Aggression to People and Animals

1. Often bullies, threatens, or intimidates others.

2. Often initiates physical fights.

3. Has used a weapon that can cause serious physical harm to others (e.g., a bat, brick, broken bottle, knife, gun)

4. Has been physically cruel to people

5. Has been physically cruel to animals

6. Has stolen while confronting a victim (e.g., mugging, purse snatching, extortion, armed robbery)

7. Has forced someone into sexual activity

Destruction of Property

8. Has deliberately engaged in fire setting with the intention of causing serious damage.

9. Has deliberately destroyed others' property (other than by fire setting).

Deceitfulness or Theft

10. Has broken into someone else's house, building, or car.

11. Often lies to obtain goods or favors or to avoid obligations (i.e., "cons' others).

12. Has stolen items of nontrivial value without confronting a victim (e.g. shoplifting, but without breaking and entering; forgery)

Serious Violations of Rules

13. Often stays out at night despite parental prohibitions, beginning before age 13 years.

14. Has run away from home overnight at least twice while living in the parental or parental surrogate home, or once without returning for a lengthy period

15. Is often truant from school, beginning before age 13 years

B. The disturbance in behavior causes clinically significant impairment in social, academic, or occupational functioning

C. If the individual is age 18 years or older, criteria are not met for antisocial personality disorder.

[Skipping a bit of the quote which specifies codes for the various ages CD can present. It is worth noting that these are *not* criteria, they are specifications to be noted in the file of the person being diagnosed with conduct disorder to accurately describe their experience. As you'll see, these specifications are flags as to whether a child/teen with conduct disorder should be evaluated for ASPD upon reaching adulthood.]

Specify if:

With limited prosocial emotions: To qualify for this specifier, an individual must have displayed at least two of the following characteristics persistently over at least 12 months and in multiple relationships and settings. These characteristics reflect the individual's typical pattern of interpersonal and emotional functioning over this period and not just occasional occurrences in some situations. Thus, to assess the criteria for the specifier, multiple information sources are necessary. In addition to the individual's self-report, it is necessary to consider reports by others who have known the individual for extended periods of time (e.g., parents, teachers, co-workers, extended family members, peers).

Lack of remorse or guilt: Does not feel bad or guilty when he or she does something wrong (exclude remorse when expressed only when caught and/or facing punishment). The individual shows a general lack of concern about the negative consequences of his or her actions. For example, the individual is not remorseful after hurting someone or does not care about the consequences of breaking rules.

Callous-lack of empathy: Disregards and is unconcerned about the feelings of others. The individual is described as cold and uncaring. The individual appears more concerned about the effects of his or her actions on himself or herself, rather than their effects on others, even when they result in substantial harm to others.

Unconcerned about performance: Does not show concern about poor/problematic performance at school, at work, or in other important activities. The individual does not put forth the effort necessary to perform well, even when expectations are clear, and typically blames others for his or her poor performance.

Shallow or deficient affect: Does not express feelings or show emotions to others, except in ways that seem shallow, insincere, or superficial (e.g. actions contradict the emotion displayed; can turn emotions "on" or "off" quickly) or when emotional expressions are used for gain (e.g., emotions displayed to manipulate or intimidate others).

Specify current severity:

Mild: Few if any conduct problems in excess of those required to make the diagnosis are present, and conduct problems cause relatively minor harm to others (e.g., lying, truancy, staying out after dark without permission, other rule breaking)

Moderate: The number of conduct problems and the effect on others are intermediate between those specified in "mild" and those in "severe" (e.g. stealing without confronting a victim, vandalism)

Severe: Many conduct problems in excess of those required to make the diagnosis are present, or conduct problems cause considerable harm to others (e.g., forced sex, physical cruelty, use of a weapon, stealing while confronting a victim, breaking and entering).

[End of Quote]

As you can see, the criteria required before age 15 is not as intense as many professionals describe it. Remember that you are only required to have shown 3 out of the total 15 criteria in there. There is even a whole specifier for Conduct Disorder that is mild and only includes things like lying, basic rule-breaking, and/or staying out past curfew.

Acts of physical aggression are not actually required for ASPD at all, it's just that many prosocials see that being one of the possible symptoms and fixate on it, thus pushing everyone with ASPD into the box of physical aggresion. You absolutely can have ASPD and never act on any violent thoughts or urges.

I was also a very sweet and passive child, developing most of my externalized ASPD symptoms (rule breaking, disrespectful behavior/actions, challenging authority, etc) around age 13. However, the internal symptoms were there for me much younger - easily bored with poor handling of boredom, lack of empathetic reactions, difficulty apologizing/showing remorse due to not really feeling it, becoming very angry but not showing it, resulting for me in self destructive behaviors like cheek biting or controlled destructive behaviors like breaking something that wouldn't be missed (pencils and pens mostly for me).

Regardless of what symptoms were shown when, symptoms are still symptoms, and if you had enough for Conduct Disorder or Oppositional Defiant Disorder before your 16th birthday, you are well within possibility of having ASPD. Keep in mind that the lying, manipulation, etc that can qualify for Conduct Disorder doesn't have to be grandiose or destructive except where it is explicitly stated in the criteria that it does (such as fire setting only counting for the destruction of property criteria if you meant to damage something with said fire).

It's so easy to count yourself out of ASPD because you don't fit the stereotypes or public perception of ASPD, but I assure you that there are many, many ways something as complex as a personality disorder can show itself.

It is absolutely a great thing, however, that you are covering your bases and making sure to do the research to see if this is what you have. That is the basis of an informed self-dx, should you come to the conclusion that you have ASPD.

Now, as for actually getting diagnosed, your mileage may vary with professionals. Many have bias against pwASPD ingrained into their practice, and won't diagnose you with it even though you have it if you aren't/weren't violent, law-breaking, or if they just think you "seem far too kind to have ASPD" (a real quote a former professional said to me a few months before I was diagnosed by my long-time psychiatrist). This doesn't mean you don't have ASPD. If they can't give you other explanations that make sense, and if their reasons for denying you that diagnosis are based in stigma or anything other than actual criteria, then you are well within your rights to continue being self-dx.

A professional should be able to explain, using criteria, why you don't have a disorder you think you may have. If they're doing their job, they should be willing to explain to you what their reasons are and point you in the direction they think may be causing the symptoms. And no, "just acting like a teenager" isn't good enough if enough symptoms have persisted into adulthood for you to meet the criteria for ASPD.

I hope this helps, apologies for it being so long.

[anticomedygarden]

white noise

Piper over thinks her powers and has a crisis. Luckily, her friends are there to ask for help.

ao3 link

i wrote this slightly oxygen deprived so if you see any mistakes please lmk (fr while I was editing I caught so many name, pronoun, spelling, and verb ending errors and I am still a bit not breathing right so please please tell me if something is wrong or doesn't make sense)

for those who don't know who killgrave is: he is a supervillain in netflix's jessica jones. he has powers similar to charmspeak but incredibly more powerful and uses those powers to completely control people, including rape

-

Piper never should have tried to watch TV at camp. She never should have asked her dad for a mobile hotspot and high speed internet. She never should have started catching Jason up on modern media. She never should have continued being friends with her ex-boyfriend. And she never should have introduced him to Marvel.

Jessica Jones currently had his whole attention, and his eyes were a little too bright as the hero snapped Killgrave's neck on her laptop screen. "Finally," he muttered, which would have concerned Piper a lot more had she not been staving off a panic attack.

"Oh my gods," Piper gasped, "I have Killgrave powers!"

Jason looked at her sharply. "Uh-"

She jumped off Jason's bed into the marble floor of the Zeus cabin, suddenly needing to get away from him. "Charmspeak is basically mind control!"

"I mean, you-"

"Oh, gods, did I contribute to Hera's heteronormative agenda?" She was full on panicking now, pacing and breathing heavily. "Do you think it took so long for you to realize you're gay because I was using my powers on you?"

Jason frowned in concentration, and it actually made her feel a little better that he took the time to think about his answer. "I don't think so. I think Hera did more damage than anything. Besides, your powers are more based on your own intent, right? You have to really try to make people do things."

"Not at first!" she said, a tad hysterical. The whole reason I was at the wilderness school was because I got that guy to give me a car!" Sure, she had good control of her powers, now, but whenever she first learned about them, she was basically just manipulating people. It felt icky then, and it felt even worse now that she'd seen what those kinds of abilities could do.

She looked up to see Jason staring at her, concerned. "Don't look at me like that, with your big sad Chris Evans eyes."

Jason's nose crinkled, and his blue eyes - big and sad like Captain America - turned downward. "Who's Chris Evans?"

Any other time, she would have made fun of him for that, but she was too upset to appreciate how funny it was. "The guy who plays adult you."

If it was possible, Jason looked even more confused. "What?"

"Oh gods, oh gods," Piper muttered. "Did I force myself on you? Was everything we did even consensual?"

There was a scratching sound over by Jason's bed, and Piper looked over to see Jason scribbling something down. She was willing to bet it was Chris Evans' name to google later. Again, she wanted to laugh but was freaking out too much.

When he was done, Jason said, "Yeah, I think it was. Even thinking about Hera, we were 15 to 16, and you're very pretty.” So he was he, but whatever. “Exploring your sexuality is what being that age is for." He started walking over to her. "Besides, we never really got past kissing."

Piper sniffed back tears. "Any forced touching is sexual assault."

"It wasn't forced, though," Jason insisted, but Piper still wasn't mollified. "Don't your powers work better when the person already wants to do the thing? Like the final push-"

"That's so much worse!" she exclaimed, to Jason's surprise. His eyes got very wide, and he took a step back. "Consent should be verbal and not coerced! If Chris Evans asked me to have sex with him, I'd probably want to, but I wouldn't say yes!" A horrible thought occurred to her. "Plus, do you know how easy these powers would make it to break an addict's sobriety? Or a million other things that suggestive mind control could do to vulnerable people?"

"Who is Chris Evans?" Jason asked again. Piper vowed to show him the Captain America movies if only so he could understand the archetype role he filled perfectly - if she could ever look at him again. He waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Piper, you know this is something we all deal with? I could do terrible things with my powers, too. I could short out the entire eastern seaboard's power grid if I tried hard enough." He snapped. "And Nico - you hang out with Will, I know you've heard some of his stories - Nico can and has done some pretty terrible things, but we all still love him." Piper almost said this wasn't the time for Jason's weird older sibling obsession with the Italian before he pulled out the big guns. "Think about Percy. Do you know how hard he has to work to keep his powers in check? Your powers aren't even half as strong as his."

Damn. That was a good one. The boy was practically a ticking time bomb. The focus he expended just to not turn into Luke probably took most of his strength. "You're right," she said. Jason looked relieved. "I should go talk to Percy."

She ran out of Cabin One and booked it to Three.

-

Predictably, Percy and Annabeth were a bit startled when Piper burst into the Poseidon cabin.

"Percy," she declared, "kiss me."

The boy in question sent an alarmed look to Annabeth who seemed equally surprised. "...That's gonna be a no."

Piper narrowed her eyes and threw every bit of concentration into her next two words. "Kiss me."

A fog seemed to come over him, and he actually started to get up. Then, he shook his head. "What are you-"

"Percy, don't listen to her, she's having a crisis," Jason blurted as he shot through the door. The blond did a double take when he saw Percy, Annabeth, and Piper just staring at each other. "Oh, good."

Annabeth held up a hand from her spot at the corner of the bed. "What is going on?"

It was a good thing Jason started talking first because Piper had no idea where to even start. "We were watching Jessica Jones-"

"Oh, I love that show," Annabeth interrupted. "Well, the first season. Krysten Ritter is so hot-"

"So hot," Percy echoed.

"-and David Tennant is so good as Killgrave." Thankfully, that appeared to be all it took for Annabeth to understand Piper's current crisis of self. "Killgrave's powers freaked you out?"

Mutely, Piper nodded.

Annabeth put out a hand. "Percy's demi, it won't work as well on him. Ask me, I'm bi."

Before she could reconsider, Piper said, "Annabeth, kiss me."

Just as it had to Percy, a fog seemed to come over her face, but unlike her boyfriend, Annabeth didn't stop. She got to barely a few inches in front of Piper before she stumbled a little and pulled her head back. "Wow, that's so weird."

Piper was vaguely aware of Percy and Jason watching them in her periphery. "Do you feel violated?"

If she'd expected Annabeth to get uncomfortable at the question, she was sorely disappointed. The daughter of Athena just laughed at her. "I mean, only in the sense that I knew I was being coerced. Otherwise, you're my friend - my very beautiful friend - and I know you wouldn't hurt me. Honestly, if it weren't for Percy, I probably would have kissed you."

Now, everyone - barring Percy, who had apparently had extensive conversations with his girlfriend about what celebrities they both thought were hot - was staring at Annabeth. Piper shook her head and turned to Jason. "See? See how easy it would be for me to force-"

"I think you're looking at it wrong," Percy said suddenly. The son of Poseidon was giving her a thoughtful look. "I don't think your powers are as persuasive as you're thinking they are. You had to really try just now to get me to do anything, and Annabeth was, uh-"

"Ready to do what anyone would be when their awesome friend tells them to kiss them with their superpowers," Annabeth quickly declared.

Jason threw up his hands. "Thank you! And whatever you think you did to me should really be blamed on Hera because we were young-"

"So young," Annabeth agreed.

"-really, not old or experienced enough to be sure about what we wanted, not to mention the memories and manipulation, and you didn't realize you weren’t straight until a lot later, either-"

"So really, if anyone is guilty of mind control and sexual assault, it's Hera," said Percy, who was not afraid of pissing off the queen of the gods. No, he looked perfectly content and not worried about cow shit at all.

That made Piper smile.

"Plus," Percy started, "our powers are there to help us. We're not like characters who get powers by accident or give themselves power ups for their own gain or security. We're born with them because monsters are constantly trying to kill us."

That was...surprisingly insightful. It was easy to forget that Percy was actually pretty smart. "How do you guys do it, then? Deal with these crazy powers?"

Jason shook his head. "Percy can answer that better than me. Anything more than some sparks and flying takes a lot out of me."

His comment very nearly sent Piper back into a tailspin. She never would have considered herself anywhere near as powerful as Jason; hell, she wouldn't even consider herself as powerful as Annabeth. This new responsibility - knowing she could leave this cabin and ruin lives just with her voice - was almost more than she could handle, and she didn't like it at all. She couldn't believe Percy just lived like this, but 100 times worse knowing that his powers could - and had - hurt the gods.

The black haired boy cocked his head. "It's not like...I mean, I don't do anything special. You learn to live with it. You just have to find a way to not be bothered by it or lose control." Her face must have fallen or something because Percy said, "Annabeth helps a lot. I know if I ever did lose control, she'd pull me out of it." He grabbed Annabeth's hand. "Or kill me."

Annabeth blanched. "But it won't ever come to that."

Piper could tell from Percy and Annabeth's faces that it absolutely could come to that and that they'd probably had this exact discussion between the two of them before.

Maybe she should make a kill-pact with Jason or Leo or someone in case she ever went supervillain and turned into Killgrave.

She finally took the time to look around the room and realized that Percy and Annabeth had been doing homework. "Thanks, guys, I feel a lot better. See you at dinner."

"See ya."

The second the door to Percy's cabin was shut, Piper rounded on Jason. "Swear that if I ever go off the deep end, you'll kill me."

Jason's eyes bugged out of his head. "Piper-"

"Swear."

There wasn't any charmspeak in her voice - at least, she didn't think there was - but Jason still said, "Fine, but only if you do the same for me."

Piper nodded. "I swear by the River Styx that if you start using your powers to hurt innocent people and there's no chance of stopping you non fatally, I'll kill you."

Jason repeated the oath, and Piper dragged Jason back to his cabin for a Chris Evans binge.

-

A week later, Leo returned from Indiana and sat next to Piper on the steps of the amphitheater. "Hey, Beauty Queen."

"Hey, Repair Boy."

"I hear you're to blame for Jason suddenly writing Captain America fanfiction?"

Piper burst out laughing. "Is he really?"

Leo chuckled along with her. "Yeah, I caught him last night when he said he was writing a history essay. I think it was Stucky."

Piper grinned. "Technically..." She didn't need to finish the sentence. "But, seriously, with his self worth issues, this is kinda like therapy."

Leo laughed again, and, damn, she missed her friend. "You're not wrong." Then, his smile dropped. "You know, if you were looking for someone to kill you, I'm right here."

Piper raised her eyebrows at him. "Likewise. Wanna make a pact?"

He sure did. 

[lancermylove]

Teen MC 34: Influenced by the Internet (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demon Bros x gn!Reader, platonic

Warning: Language

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Could I request Obey Me headcanons for a teen mc who's being groomed on the internet? I know this sounds like and odd topic but something I feel is really prevalent is the stuff that teens these days do online and the lack of intervention from adults. Teens just shouldn't be dating online and it's so sad to see how their manipulated.

A/N: Anon, I can't agree with you more. It's sad to see how kids/teens are exploited without realizing it. I know you said you meant both the formal definition and internet trend, but writing for the formal definition of grooming is disturbing for me. I honestly can't even fathom how sick-minded people can be. I will treat your request as MC closely following different internet/trends.

Series: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28][29][30][31][32][33]

———————————————

Lucifer heard you crying and asked what happened? He was worried they were injured or someone had said something to them.

But he wasn't expecting MC to say their nose was too big, their skin had textures, and their figure was not on trend.

"I need surgery to make my nose smaller...and stop eating and exercise more. Is there a way to get rid of skin texture? Maybe I should ask -"

"(Y/n), you are fine as you are. Would you kindly stop belittling yourself?" Lucifer sat down beside you and squeezed your hand between his hands. "You may not believe me, but you are perfect. Your nose suits your face. Your skin texture adds to your beauty. Your body is beautiful. There is no need to follow trends. Follow what makes you content, not to suit the unnecessary standards of insecure people."

Lucifer never understood trends but didn't bother to stop Asmo. Now, though, seeing you following the same trends bothers him much more than he wants to admit. Lucifer refuses to let you look down on yourself - your beautiful self.

Mammon raised an eyebrow and pressed an ear to your door. What were you watching? Why did it sound like...oh hell nah.

He kicked open your door and ran straight for you, not giving you enough time to react. He stared at your screen in horror.

"(Y/n)...why are ya watchin' things meant for adults? How did you learn 'bout this?"

You rolled your eyes and told him you were already a teenager, which meant you were practically an adult. "Besides, everyone my age is watching stuff like this all the time."

"Well, you ain't everyone. (Y/n), you're different than 'em...so don't go around comparin' yourself to 'em," Mammon sighed and shut the laptop but not before exiting the rated site. "You ain't gotta do what others do - you've your own mind and thoughts...you're your own individual. I'm not tryin' to lecture ya or anythin', but (y/n), enjoy the innocent times while ya still have 'em. 'Cause when ya get older, you're goin' to wish you were back to these times...so enjoy it while ya still can, y'know."

Mammon set your laptop in front of you and met your eyes, "Also, I ain't gonna tell Lucifer 'bout this, but if you go onto these kinds of sites again, I'm gonna tell him."

Levi went to get a glass of water in the kitchen, but as he passed your room, he heard you say, "So in today's video, I will hang myself from this noose and see how long I can stay."

He ran into your room, only to find you standing on a small stool pretending to hang from the noose. What were you doing?

A few days later, he found you in the woods with torn clothes and muddy makeup, making a video about how poor you were. He was confused but didn't think much.

Nothing made sense to him until he found your social media account. Were you doing all this for clout? Were you lying to your audience just to get likes and views?

Levi almost brushed it aside as you were trying to make it on social media, but then he saw the comments. Most of the comments were criticizing the demon brothers for not taking care of you.

It finally clicked. For the past two weeks, he and his brothers got hateful looks and nasty glares whenever they went outside. No one knew what was happening, not even Lucifer. He brought this up to Diavolo, but even the prince was clueless.

"(Y/n), can you stop?" Levi was nervous about confronting you alone but had to get answers.

"Stop what?"

"Making posts for clout. Did you s-see the comments? Everyone is looking down on us..."

"Who cares what they say? Just ignore them! My videos are getting so popular. Did you see how many likes and comments I got on my last video?"

Were likes and comments the only things that mattered to you? You were destroying their reputation and hurting them as well. They worked hard to build their reputation in Devildom, but that didn't matter to you, did it?

Levi quietly dragged his feet out of your room. He needed to tell his brothers before things got worst, but you will get mad at him. Why did he have to be the one to find out the reason the truth?

"You fckng b*tch."

Satan stared at you with wide eyes. Since when did you start using such language?

"Your outfit is just like your face. Ugly."

That was uncalled for. He watched the poor lady you criticized walk away with tears in her eyes. Where did the (y/n) he knew go, and who was this new person?

'You are such a bad actor. No one likes you, and your movies are horrible. Find a bridge and jump off.' Satan watched over your shoulder as you posted that comment on the actor's recent post.

Okay, this was crossing the line. Day in and out, he heard you using cuss words, trolling people online, and roasting everyone around you, including his brothers.

"(Y/n), what enjoyment do you get from hurting others?"

"Hurting? What are you talking about?"

"You just told the actor to take his life..." Satan furrowed his brows.

"I don't have anything against the actor. This is just how people talk today - it's on trend."

"And the day you told the lady her outfit was ugly like her face?"

"She asked for my opinion, so I roasted her."

"And when you cuss others out?" He curiously asked.

"It's cool to use cuss words," you laughed.

So that was it, huh? You were hurting others and demeaning them because it was trendy and to seem cool. Did you forget people had feelings? Your words had the power to hurt them? What if the actor actually listened to your comments and jumped off the bridge then what?

Satan massaged his temples as he felt a headache coming on. He had to figure out how to teach you an unforgettable lesson, so you would stop following useless and mean trends.

Asmo was all about being charming, cute, and seductive when needed, especially when it came to his social media posts. There's nothing wrong with giving your followers a little fan service. But what you were doing was unacceptable, even for him.

"Why are you doing this, (y/n)?" He asked uncomfortably.

"What? The thirst traps? I'm adding a little oomph for my followers. What's wrong with that?"

"You are not an adult...and there are creeps out there who might be misusing your content..."

"That's not my problem. I am following my heart, and there's nothing wrong with that," you huffed. "Why do you care anyways?"

"I do care. About you and your well-being...at least wait until you are a legal adult."

"Don't lecture me, Mom. I'm done talking about this."

Asmo watched you stomp out of his room while biting down on his lower lip - your behavior almost had him in tears. He needed to talk to his brothers about this.

"No, I don't want to eat that..."

"Are you feeling okay?" Beel asked, concerned. "Your...taste has changed, and you're a picky eater...did something happen?"

"No. Oh, Beel! Let's go to that cafe."

Even at the cafe, you were more interested in taking photos of the food than eating it. Beel watched you in confusion but brushed it aside until you took one bite of the sandwich and winced. Despite not enjoying the taste, you continued to eat it.

"Why are you forcing yourself to eat something you don't like? I can finish it for you..."

You shook your head, "This sandwich is trending on social media, so I have to eat it."

Your words made no sense to him. Why were you eating something you disliked just to follow a trend? Your food choice should be based on your liking, not what social media tells you to eat. "(Y/n), are you only eating trending food?"

"Yup! I want to feel included."

Beel sighed. That was far from healthy. He wondered if Solomon's cooking became a trend tomorrow, would you still eat it?

Belphie was asleep on your shoulder and woke to find you texting someone.

You were a little too friendly, but he assumed you were talking to your close friend. Then you switched to a different chat and were just as friendly.

"(Y/n)...who are you talking to? Your friends...?"

"Nope. They are strangers?"

He sat straight up and stared at you with wide eyes. "Haven't you heard of stranger danger?"

"That's stupid."

"But (y/n)...you are giving out personal information..."

"You are overthinking."

"No, (y/n)," Belphie sighed, "That's not okay. People aren't as nice as you think. They might try to take advantage of you..."

"Belphie, I know what I'm doing. OMG! Stop lecturing me."

After that response, Belphie didn't say anything and excused himself. He half wanted you to learn your lesson the hard way but didn't want you to have permanent scars.

He plans to talk to his brothers later to figure out how to scare you to get you to understand the possible consequences of your actions.

———————————————

➣  Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open || Requests: Closed

[bratshaws]

goodness gracious 86. brb x oc

a/n: I'll be honest I was a bit nervous posting this chapter since it turns...a bit away from the fic? Kind of, I mean it is necessary for GROWTH purposes.

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: Bea fighting her demons and just a tidbit of Rooster :(

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73/74/75/76/77/78/79/80/81/82/83/84

85

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes

-

“I don’t know how to feel about hearing ghost children, Bea.”

Beatrice frowned, crossing her arms over her bust as she looked at Michael. He wasn’t able to come when she asked because of work, but he was there on the day of her class reunion, one week after, “Michael, come on.”

“Ghost children are creepy Bea.” 

“As opposed to normal ghosts?” she asks while checking her reflection on the hallway’s mirror, she tried to hide how nervous she was getting. She wished Brad was there, he could go with her and help her out but he wasn’t and she had to deal with this herself “I just need you to stay a few nights, Mike. Please.”

Michael crosses his huge arms over his equally large chest, leaning his shoulder against the wall with a deep frown, “Fine, but I still expect my payment in cannolis.” his sister rolls her eyes, but agrees with a nod to the side, fixing her ponytail and the strands adorning her face. Since it was a bit warm that day, she was wearing one of her summer dresses and had a cardigan with her in case she needed it.

If she could just show up, spend five minutes there just so Lilly Ann saw her and leave, she would. It’d be...intense, she didn’t know how people would react and her nerves were slowly climbing up to the surface in a way that Michael noticed, “You okay?” Beatrice nods, fixing her dress’ short sleeves one more time, then running her hands down the skirt, second guessing if she should show up wearing that.

Her outfits in high school were mainly t-shirts and jeans and the so called mom shorts that stop at the knee. Skirts and dresses were never present, shirts’ collars had to hug her neck and show nothing below it and they were big, making her appear enormous back then. When she picked this outfit she decided she’d wear this because this is who she really was and always had been, she had to break that specific shell of fear from high school Beatrice for both of their sakes, “I’m fine.” she says with her jaw tense and eyes locked on her reflection, not seeing Michael appear on her side with his gaze worried. “I’m fine,Mike.”

“You know when you told us about the shit you went through in high school, I was really upset.” she blinks at him in confusion, “We could’ve helped you, sis. We all could.”

Beatrice smiles softly, shaking her head, “You were all grown adults, already in college and with your own lives. What was I to do? It’d only make everything worse.” she explains, watching her brother’s face fall into a scowl, “Plus you guys were all adults and knowing you, you’d want to punch some people in the face.” 

Michael’s scowl faltered, then turned into a knowing smirk, “I mean, yeah, true.” the siblings laughed together, but her older brother’s eyes still had a worried glaze over them, “...I’m just saying…well…we hated knowing how hurt you were back then. But you got better.” Beatrice’s green eyes meet her brother’s darker green ones, “And you grew so much. We are all really proud of you.”

Beatrice’s cheeks turn red and she nods, then engulfs her older brother in a hug, one he reciprocated, rubbing her upper back, “Thank you,Mikey.” she needed that pep talk, she needed that support before going. She pulls back to pull out her phone from her dress’ pockets, biting her lower lip, “It’s almost two…I better go.” she murmurs, stepping away from Michael to grab the keys hanging on the magnetic shelf and her purse, leaning down to kiss Jolene’s head and squeeze her cheeks in a goodbye, “Call if you need anything, okay? Her snacks are on the laundry room’s third cabinet.”

Michael nods, following his sister out of the door, watching her enter her red Jeep with a smile, “You’ll do great!” he calls once she’s inside, giving her a double thumbs up and a bright grin. Beatrice smiled back, her nerves a mess inside of her body, but she reversed out of the garage and drove away. 

Beatrice’s jaw clenched and relaxed, her eyes moving everywhere around the area as she tried to recall the way to her old school. It’s sad how much she went through basically making her block anything that related to her teenage years, especially where to go and to turn. She sighed, setting the gps to where she wanted to go and frowning knowing there was still about fifteen minutes for her to get there.

She could admire her surroundings, but honestly, she just wanted to get this done with. It’s crazy how one moment you are okay with that happening then on the other you just get freaked out. She could message Rooster, she could, but she didn’t want him to worry. Beatrice inhaled for courage, closing her eyes briefly and rolling her shoulder while gripping the wheel with so much force it looked like it could break at any second.

God she didn’t remember this area having so many palm trees, or a new parking area…but she did see the ‘ball room’ area decorated with balloons and a huge banner that said ‘Welcome back Class of ‘10’ in big bold red letters. Beatrice sighed, turning the jeep to the open gates to the student parking lot that had…a lot of cars. It took her a few seconds to find a parking space, easing out a relieved breath when she found one.

She’s parked next to a silver colored Mini Cooper with decals of cartoon characters on the passenger windows, ah, yeah, most of the classmates probably had kids now. Beatrice purses her lips, looking at her rear view mirror where she could see the gymnasium’s entrance open wide with people chatting on the outside or coming and going and a short woman holding a clipboard. 

Beatrice closed her eyes again, then furrowed her eyebrows, “Okay.” she nods to herself, slinging her purse’s strap on her shoulder and her cardigan folded on her arms, closing the door behind herself. She stood close to her car, her feet refusing to move closer the longer she looked, her flight instinct screaming louder for her to get the hell out of there. But she held her ground, clenching her keys into her palm - feeling the teeth nip at her skin- before she tossed it inside her purse and forced herself to move forward.

She was wearing a wedged sandal that knocked on the gravel as she walked, something she also never wore while in school. It was a lot more comfortable than a high heel shoe and it also made her legs look great, legs that she still wondered if she should show off like that.

If Rooster was around he’d be so supportive of her outfit, compliment her legs - her whole body really- and even tell her she could be ‘late for a few minutes’. Beatrice’s lips curled into a smile, pressing the power button on her phone to unlock the screen, exposing their dancing photo as her background, “I can do this Roos.” she whispers, bringing her phone to her lips so she could kiss his side of the picture, “I can do this.”

The woman holding the clipboard had pitch black dark hair chopped on a bob below her earlobes. Her eyes looked up when Beatrice approached, “Hello I– wait Beatrice? Is that you?” that voice. It was Lilly Ann with a completely different hair color. The two guys talking by the doors immediately stopped and looked to where Beatrice was “Oh my God? You look incredible!”

“Thank you Lilly Ann, you look really good as well.” extremely stressed, her left eye was twitching and her hands were shaky when she turned the clipboard to the brunette so she could write down her name. Beatrice smiles, giving her the pen back, and placing the tag with her name on her chest ”Thank you. I’ll go inside now.” she ignored the two guys on the doors, who looked at her way too much, choosing to pull out her phone to let Michael know she got there safely.

The response her brother gave her was a picture of him and Jolene inside her pool, the pittie had on sunglasses and was giving her a doggy smile. Beatrile chuckled, rolling her eyes and slipping her phone back inside her bag. She didn’t know how the school allowed this event to happen during the afternoon, but then again she couldn’t really hear any voices coming from the inside of the school building itself.

Beatrice finally enters the gymnasium/ballroom hall as the school liked to call during prom time. It was decorated with more balloons, tables and chairs - with a pair of long tables on either side with food and drinks, most of them non alcoholic since this was still the afternoon and it was a school, and people. Lots and lots of people.  She forgot how many classmates she had, she had no idea if they were all here, but she felt a bit overwhelmed upon seeing everyone again. 

She looked around trying to find a place to stay and keep herself distracted, deciding that maybe she could get something to drink since her throat was a bit dry. Her greeting to everyone she passed by was a nod and a smile, nothing more than that, she didn’t want to talk to anyone yet.

Once she reached the corner of the table with the drinks, she took in a deep breath seeing she was finally alone there, ‘Okay.” she mutters, pouring herself some fizzy lemonade inside a cup that was plastic but it was meant to look like glass, “Okay, it’s fine. It's fine.” she murmured, bringing the cup to her lips to take a sip, easing out a breath through her nose. Beatrice looks over her shoulder curiously, seeing everyone was with their old clique from high school - obviously - and her teammates from the volleyball team were…too busy talking to themselves.

Oh she was already regretting this.

She sighs, rubbing her forehead and tapping her nail on the side of her cup, deciding to look up at the decorations instead, or anywhere else really. She was starting to regret coming here even more, biting the corner of her mouth as she wandered about.

“No way, Beatrice? Is that you?”

Well that was going to happen a lot today apparently. She sighs, turning to the person who asked and her face lost all color. Her former middle school best friends who then ditched her in high school? Megan,Susie and Rooney. They haven’t changed much, besides Rooney was now wearing glasses, Megan was a blonde now and Susie cut her hair very short, “Oh my God! Look at you! “

Beatrice couldn’t stop when Megan wrapped her arms around her waist, the brunette just keeping her arms by her sides in surprise, even more when the others joined in too, “God, it has been so long! You look so different!” Beatrice offered them a small smile, awkward on how to reply to these compliments from a group of people she hasn’t spoken to in years.

“Did you lose weight?” she knew that one was coming,”You look so much better.”

“Thank you.” she says curtly, meeting Susie’s eyes, ‘You do too.” 

“Anyway, how have you been? Are you and Eric still together?” The mention of her ex’s name makes Beatrice flinch briefly, until she remembers how she punched him on the nose hours after her birthday.  She also had no idea they knew she dated Eric, because it wasn’t really ‘public’ in the first months - not to mention the three of them stopped talking to her for years.

“No, no I’m no longer with Eric.” she says, “I have someone else now,” someone wonderful, funny, kind, and so handsome it hurts. They looked at her, waiting for her to tell them more, “He’s a naval pilot.” she wasn’t sure if they noticed how weird this whole situation was, how much talking to them made her uncomfortable. Their connection was inexistent now and while she could understand why they’d want to chat - well, partially,- they no longer had anything in common with each other and Beatrice wasn’t feeling like she could tell them more.

“Ohhh, a naval pilot, does he have friends?” Rooney jokes, but Beatrice could see the glint of a wedding ring when she moved her hand. The other woman followed her gaze, then laughed ,”Oh we have an open relationship.”

“Right. Um, I don’t think any of them would be interested.” she didn’t want to come off as rude, but she knew the Dagger squad quite well at this point, “Most of them already have serious relationships.” Well that wasn’t true, but they didn’t have to know that.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Schiavoni herself.”

Beatrice closed her eyes, inhaling deeply when she saw the people who used to be part of Hannah’s clique approaching them but there was no sign of Hannah anywhere with them. They all look…heavily esthetically modified, oh my god. Normally Beatrice wouldn’t care about plastic surgery, if you wanna do it, do it, but they looked…stretched and not at all normal.  She tried to hold back her surprise and at the same time just rolled her eyes when her former friends just stepped back to let them pass, “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you show up.” the one in the middle, Jasmine, said, the skin on her cheeks barely moving- Jesus wasn’t she thirty too? Was that necessary already: - with the other two girls behind her.

Strange that Hannah wasn’t with them, “Yes, well, I thought about showing up.” Beatrice was no longer drinking, so she placed both of her arms behind herself  for no specific reason and that movement pushed her chest forward. It was news to her that she could see how taller she was than those girls and how her chest was fuller as well - she didn’t want to body shame anyone, especially her bullies…but it felt…weirdly good.

Jasmine’s long manicured nails clicked together, “What was it that I heard? That you are dating someone in the military?”

“That’s right.” she says with a small smile.

“Well you know how it works, Schiavoni, proof or it didn’t happen!” the girl on her left, Tania, Tiffany? What was her name again? It had a T on it.

Beatrice just blinked, furrowing her eyebrows, “I’m sorry?” she looks down at Tiff–the one girl she couldn’t remember the name of, who was holding her hand up for her to hand over her phone?? 

“Give it to us Schiavoni, come on.”

That one sentence brought chills up her spine, she heard that so many times when she was younger that her younger self inside her brain immediately panicked and screamed for her to leave. But Beatrice was no longer sixteen years old, she was no longer scared of them, she forgave them but that didn’t mean she couldn’t defend herself, “No.” she scoffs, “Why am I going to give you my phone?”

“Oh they just want to see really quick, Bea,” Megan added and that immediately made Beatrice snap her glare towards the other woman, who faltered and stepped to the side.

“I forgot how shitty you all were.” she snarls, then looks down at the still stretched hand, inhales and prepares herself, “No. This isn’t high school anymore and I’m sorry to say but we’re all grown fucking women. I don’t have to give you anything.” she never raised her voice, which meant no one looked their way since the music was pumping, “And I am not scared of you anymore.” they tried offending her, shocker, but Beatrice scoffs again, “It’s been over ten years. I moved on, why can’t you?”

That made the bully trio, and her old friends, stare at her with wide eyes. The usually meek and shy Beatrice would never do that, “I think you all need to check if all that filler isn’t going up to the brain and–”

“Wait, you are the one at the Marcus Beverly billboard!” a girl she couldn’t remember the name either announces, breaking the heavy atmosphere with her finger pointed at Beatrice. That statement makes others look her way too, “You are! It is you!”

“What’s happening?”

“Who’s where?”

“Beatrice is the face of the new Marcus Beverly collection!” the woman says, pulling out her phone, “Look! It 's her!” soon enough they were crowded, surrounded by people and Beatrice didn’t know what to do. While she was happy they were asking her about it, she felt her body begin to get very overwhelmed, her anxiety was spiking. Being circled by people like this triggered some locked memories from her past, memories of when she’d be in the middle of a circle and made fun of and humiliated.

Interesting how this was the exact opposite from back then. Beatrice tried to calm her breathing, tried to ease her heart, but nothing worked. She could feel her anxiety clogging up her throat, even if there were only smiles she wished it wasn’t like this, she wanted space, she needed space. When there was a break between the crowd, she escaped, rushing to the bathroom and locking herself in one of the cabins.

Beatrice sat on the toilet lid, pressing her cardigan up to her eyes and counting to thirty slowly, smell the flower, blow the candle. She inhaled deeply, her perfume mixed with the chemical cleaners from the bathroom hitting her nose. She wanted to heal, she wanted to be better, she didn’t want this fear to take over her anymore…she lowered the cardigan to her bare thighs, then looked down at her phone to check if she had a message from anyone and she immediately smiled when she saw that Rooster sent her one a few minutes ago, around the time she arrived.

Roos’ (14:13)

It’s pretty late here and I’m going to sleep, but I just wanted to say I miss you, pretty girl. I hope you are having a good day and I hope you know you are always on my mind <3 I love you.

Beatrice’s cheeks flexed with her smile, supporting her chin on her hand as she reread the message over and over. “You are always on my mind too, Roos.” she whispers, sighing softly as her heart calms down. 

‘Beatrice? Are you here?’

That voice…”Hannah?”

Footsteps approach she cabin she’s currently inside, she sees a pair of red pumps appearing below the door and she immediately fears she’s going to throw something over her head, “Are you okay?”

Oh.

“Oh, um,I-I’m fine. I just needed a breather.”

“Yeah,tell me about it.” she laughs from the other side, “Everyone calmed down a bit, if you want to come back out.”

Beatrice blinked, trying to translate her words and check if it was a trap or not, unlatching the door and slowly creaking it open, seeing Hannah’s face appear on the other side, “...thanks.” she muttered, Hannah giving a few steps back so Bea could finally walk out. The two met eyes, Hannah wringing her hands together and Beatrice clenching her cardigan, “So…uh…”

“Yeah…”

Cue very awkward pause.

Until Hannah closes her eyes and parts her mouth, “I…I’m sorry Beatrice.” the brunette snaps her head up in surprise, staring at the strawberry blonde with her eyebrows furrowed, “For everything I did to you.” What followed was complete silence, the muffled 00’s songs pumping outside adding to the background noise. Beatrice didn’t expect this to happen today, “You don’t have to forgive me, hell I wouldn’t forgive me…but I really am sorry. What I did to you…no excuse will be able to explain. There’s no good reason.”

Beatrice clenches her cardigan even tighter, chest expanding in a deep inhale. “...I’ve forgiven you long ago,Hannah.” that made the other woman look up in shock, “You hurt me a lot, well not only you, but…I didn’t want to keep that shit with me, you know? It’s not healthy at all…but I appreciate your apology. Can I ask what made you…change your mind?”

Hannah leans her back against the bathroom’s sink, rubbing her eyes, “When I met you at the dog park last time…it was…I don’t know I remember being so mad at you and I don’t even know why. Then…then you talked to me and just,I guess it opened a whole new world for me.” she pauses, “Thinking back…if nothing had happened I think we could’ve been friends.”

Beatrice finds that hard to believe, “You had your own friends.”

“Who? Jasmine, Tessa,” ah that was the name,”And Caroline? I thought we were friends but…over time they tossed me aside too. I wanted to be better for my son, you know? Wanted him to have good examples especially after the divorce and they didn’t really agree how I was dealing with it.”

Beatrice frowns, crossing her arms with her cardigan tucked on the crook of her elbow, her stomach turning in knots, “I’m sorry. No one should go through that.” she whispers, then frowns, “Why did you hate me?”

Hannah shrugs, “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone can explain why we picked on you so much. Maybe because you were too quiet, or too kind, or too talented, who knows? We fucked up with you a lot and I am very sorry.” she mutters, “I’m very sorry you didn’t deserve that.”

The brunette just stared, opening and closing her mouth, unsure what to reply after that. It’s strange, she thought about this for so long, wondered if she’d ever get closure and then it happens and she…doesn’t know how to react. She just stays there, in complete and utter disbelief this just happened, “I…” she licks her lips, tasting the cherry gloss on her tongue, “...thank you…Hannah. I…I appreciate it.”

“You are welcome.” Hannah whispers back, holding out a nervous hand for her to shake, “You don’t have to but I–” Beatrice clasps it gently, holding it still and squeezing it just enough to show that this chapter was finally closed. “...thank you.” Bea nods, “So uh…that guy with you, was your husband?”

Not yet, “No, no he’s my boyfriend.” she explains, walking alongside Hannah towards the door. She sees the other woman blink, then ‘huh’ quietly, “What?”

“I could swear you two were married, there’s something about you two.” she says with a small smile, “That gives off that vibe.” 

Beatrice’s smile returned, her cheeks turning red, “Well…I’d hope so.” they walk out of the bathroom to be hit with the Macarena at full blast and a group of people dancing in the middle of the dance floor. Weirdly enough, Hannah and Beatrice ended up talking a lot more than either thought.

Hannah was right, they could’ve been friends, they did like a lot of the same things and Beatrice found out that Hannah was an obstetrician! Who would’ve thought? They enjoyed the same type of music, some movies and even certain books. Hanna Dreyfus was a nerd just like Bea was. Meanwhile her old friends just glared over the two…or they were just looking, Beatrice couldn’t tell since she didn’t know if they could change expressions at all. 

“Damn Eric! What happened to your nose?” Beatrice hears someone say, followed by her ex’s grumbled reply. She turns her head just in time to see him and vice versa. They stare at each other for a bit, before Eric’s eyes widen and he slowly backs away from the area “Where are you going, man?? You just got in- Eric! Bro!” 

Beatrice just managed to make her stupid ex run off the event in a matter of minutes, she’s talking to her former bully like actual adults and she was very happy…maybe coming here wasn’t so bad at all. 

[answersfromzestual]

I promised you all a reason why I do not use certain verbals.

Below are personal experiences, and some parts are violent.

Reason as to why I do not use words such as, "fag[got]", "queer", and "dyke" and idenitfying/calling someone "it".

I was always the weird kid, I didn't have much if any real friends growing up.

My own parents and siblings, to this day, call me names. I was a candle burning at both ends.

From an early age (as soon as i could dress myself), I dressed masculine, always wore boy clothes. Mother was okay when I was young because I was just a "tomboy." I had kids starting in first grade of all ages, asking me if I was a boy or a girl.I didn't have the answer. Everyone told me what I was, but I disagreed. I felt like a boy, but the world told me I was a girl... Having younger kids go get a teacher when they saw me in the bathroom, I would always shrug. It was embarrassing other children peeking in the stall... I was bullied into a feminine phase (dressing female, against what I really wanted, age 10-15). I needed to not be bullied as bad anymore. I wanted to push the feelings down and not stand out anymore... I just wanted to fit in and be like everyone else... I prayed to be normal or to leave.

High school was horrible...

I needed to go to the washroom at school during first period, which meant walking by the cafeteria... the seniors had their spare period, and i knew they sat in the cafe. They laughed as I walked by and one yelled "fucking dyke" at me, at the same time two teachers were walking by me the opposite way, talking. We were at the same place in the hall, they didn't say a word. They just kept walking, but they fell silent for a short time...

I had to walk home from school... there was two ways, one was longer and along a main road, where people would yell faggot, queer, dyke, fucking weirdo, out of their car windows at me, random adults and students from both schools in town. The other way was through the alley, faster and no one was around... I was always gambling if someone would jump me (attack me). I was just walking home after abuse from other students and teachers. And a group of guys following you saying "here, here little queer/dyke/faggot" whatever word they felt like using that day. I didn't have anyone to walk with on these days, it was band practice, I stayed later than my friends would...

I would run as fast as I could. They ran faster... Tackled me to the ground and beat me, fracturing a rib at one point. Being told I was worthless and they should kill me that would be doing the world a favor, as their boot hovered over my bloody face... That maybe I need a real man to fuck me to turn me (magically) a straight cis female. I never went to the hospital. My parents never saw the bruises all over my face. (My parents weren't the best). This was at least once a month.

I developed full-blown alcoholism and hard drug addiction by 15-16 years old, trying to numb the pain of everyone in the world rejecting me.

I worked at a fast food joint as a teen. An old man came up to my register, a look of confusion and disgust on his face. I greeted him, smiling. I had just come out to the first person at work, and she was awesome about it, probably half an hour earlier. He slid his empty cup across the counter and asked for a refill. While I was doing his refill, the girl I had just come out also asked if he needed help. He said in a big booming voice, throwing his hands up, "She,him, it, that thing there." *points at me* "has got my refill!" At this point, I no longer felt human. I felt like I was an unknown creature from another planet.

Those are some of the postable, less traumatic reasons why I don't like those words. I grew up, and they were all bad words to be or even be called. I lived in a small, very rural village, and it to this day, people aren't with the times.

These words have hurt me in many ways and I have no intention of the futile attempt to "take things back". Two things you can't take back, history and words. These words will always be hurtful to me, these wounds won't heal. These words are hate to me and always will be.

I do not want to take away your identity, I don't want you to feel negatively if you use them to identify. You are allowed to have your own vocabulary, views, and opinions. The rule is more of reasoning as to why I do not use them most of the time for identities.

If you can, please avoid using those words for me in asks? If you do, it's okay. If it happens too often, though, I may have an issue. I hope you understand and respect my point of view as I respect yours.

Respect the fact we all walk different paths, if you say to someone they have to "deal with it", while that person tip toes around your trauma. Please, respect is a two way street.

This also goes for any other people who have issues with the words, like my partner as well has trauma due to these words (she is part of the lgbtqai as well).

Thank you.

Tltr; I was verbally and physically abused, and the people would taunt me with those terms.

[whatididtday]

September 15/Fri:

Woke up around 11:30, was motivated to get something done today.

Looked into how to optimize LinkedIn and clicked some new photos (none of which I felt is as good) but I still added one of them to my LinkedIn profile

Got v anxious v fast as I saw I am not eligible to apply for any job as my skills are below subpar and had a breakdown

I did apply to some places and got rejection mails p soon

The whole afternoon I cried, it's like a routine now to cry in the afternoon

Again my partner reassured me that it's not the end of the world and I still have time, I'm v burnt out so doing such stressful things will make me have more meltdowns and that I should rest properly

After the encouragement and lots of love from them I felt lots better

I then hyperfixated on Yoongi for a while and had a mental monologue about how Yoongi 's songs are so deep despite him appearing so non chalant.

I ate lots of sweets yday, more than 5 pieces of thick milky sweets and that caused my head to spin real bad but I wasn't able to sleep and felt again v depressed

I've been taking medications properly, now that my mom makes me take it religiously and won't go till I have and it but the feelings of great despair and helplessness doesn't go away and I have to fight with myself to not feel that way.

My partner has been telling me to take therapy frequently ans it might help as they feel it helps them, so I should look forward to my next session.

I played Pogo the whole afternoon toll mom suggested I should go to swimming as it's been a while and my membership lasts till 12 October, which was a surprise.

I thought I've not been doing any physical exercise so I should go and also it's nice to swim and hopefully due to my exercise my periods will be regular.

I shaved my legs and got in my swimming costume, blasted *Crossed* while playing pogo on my way to swimming pool. Just when I was about to enter a bird pooped on my shirt, it was drizzling a bit so I help my hand out and that's exactly when the bird decided to poop

The poo didn't hit my hand but was on my chest area and there's a school beside the swimming pool place and all the kids were like ew and I felt v embarrassed by I think I handled it v v welln

I wiped the poo and didn't really react much and went on my way.

I reached ten mins early to the swimming pool but I took some time to fix my costume and wear my cap.

The goggles I have is really bad idk why, I'm unable to see anything when I wear it, yday I noticed some scratches, I'll investigate it more and see wtf is up with it.

Swimming after a whole month was hard, I had very less stamina, I could only do 12 laps, usually I go for 16-18.

There was a v sweet thing happened yday where two kids, one 4th grader called Di and 5th grader called Gi came up to me to talk while the swim sesh.

Gi and I have waved at each other and had skme tiny brief talks, she asked me if my septum piercing hurts and she said her nose hurts everytime she sees mine which was funny and told me back then that she was in 5th grade.

Gi and Di both came to me and asked whixh grade I am in xD, bless their heart tbh it's so sweet and I took some time to answer, I first said I'm not in any grade to which they got a bit confused and then as they are kids and won't understand I'm unemployed and all the follow questions if have if I told them this would be bad so I said I'm working in Amazon ( it's been 5 months since I resigned) and they were like ohhhh so you get Amazon things for free? Can you get us something and it was v sweet and funny.

Then these two started splashing water at ecah other while I did one lap and after I rested next to them one of the kiddos splashed lots of water on me and as they are kids it was funny that tiny kids splashing loads of water on an adult, so I allowed it and was joking around that oh no ill drown xD

And they were splashing more and more water to whuxh I splashed back some and they were having fun wuth this and whenever I splashed water they'd turn away so that they don't get splashed directly on face so I swam under water and popped up right next to Di and splashed lotsa water and she was Owo how? It was funny nice and funny

Then both the kids started asking me to play around with them instead of swimming as it's fun whne I'm there and it was really sweet so I obliged. They did their childish shenanigans and when the bell rang indicating it was 7 already we got up and the kids asked me to walk home with them

The younger one, Di asked me if I'll come tomorow and I jokingly said no I can't, because you splashed so much water on me I'll get cold and she got v scared and said no no I'm sure you'll not get cold, and seeing her distressed I said haha jo, But she wasn't like content so she held her tiny pinky out and asked me to pinky swear I'll come tomorow and I did and cuz I did this with Di, Gi also made me pinky swear with her and now I have to go to swimming today else they'll be upset

Idk why I think so much, I started thinking what will happen after I stop going to swimming, will they be sad cuz I don't want them to. Plus I just am a bit worried that I'll not get much exercise done now that I'm stuck with kids, let's see how it goes...

I was v v excited to tell my partner about all this, but not on text, I wanted to hear them laugh and giggle so I texted them I'll tell em all during the nightly video calls and they were excited but I was more excited to tell if to someone right then and it was not night yet, so I told mom ans she laughed but I have been trying not to talk to mom much as our relationship is v dysfunctional ans she's extremely controlling and when I confront she says hurting words and abandon me to deal with damage. It makes me realize it's the first time ever that I'm keeping things both happy and sad from her due to her reluctance to hear me out without dismissing and abandoning me when I need and then tell me leave trauma and past problems in the past lol.

I had tea whole telling her the least amount of retail about the kids shenanigans and mom got some dhoklas and a cashew sweet which I ate.

After that I studied for 48 mins, I realized how much more I need to study and do more projects to get a hang of the concepts, it took me so much time to replicate one simple web page and it kinda geared me to study regularly.

Was called for dinner just after that and dinner was a sensory night mare, weird texture veggies and fish and it was really overwhelming. But I had to eat so I can take my meds.

Took meds at 9:36

After coming to my room I tried studying for some more time till it was ten and then we videocalled and I told them the whole thing ans we laughed but it seemed they were very sleepy and I wanted so bad to hear things from them more, to spend more time but I wanted tu be a kind partner and ask them to go and sleep and I think they saw I'm being a bit upset and they were like nope I'm tired yes but I wanna talk to you now.

One tiny hurt in me starts branching spreading into a whole big disaster but I did my best to control it.

They said they wanted to send me another sleep story vn and I was like please don't bb, you sent me so many of them so I want to completely cherish it and then out of guilt I told them please don't put so much effort in sending the sleep recordings, it's so sweet that you do but I don't want you to exert yourself and it hurts me and to this they felt extreme guilt and said I send em so you relax and feel happy and not be upset, please don't think I'm putting lots of effort into it and hurting myself, I enjoy doing it for you and you deserve it. You deserve the best love and I'm giving you that and I was on the verge of tears from all the kindness and love but also vv upset with myself for not stringing the words correctly and yet we resolved that thing and they were so eepy, I asked them to sleep please and they agreed and we exchanged our kisses and love.

I love them so much, I really want to marry them, have the rest of my life with them and for that I need to heal and not cry a lot and also fix my thinking and work on my dreams.

I slept p soon after that

[dari-ede]

In the Middle of the Night: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: "아주 고요한 너와 나의 속삭임"

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

****************

Summary: As Bangtan prepares for a new chapter in their lives, they head to their private property in the forest for a songwriting workshop. As a songwriter and producer they have worked with for years, I’m asked to tag along. I was ready for the heavy workload and small amount of sleep during the workshop week. However, I wasn’t ready for the storm that came that changed my friendship with Namjoon forever.

Genre: Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut

Pairing: Idol!Namjoon x Female Character

Rating: M (explicit language, mild sexual explicit language)

Status: COMPLETE

NOTE: Trying something new and releasing this a little earlier than usual. Also, it's JK's birthday, so I figured, why the heck not? 🥰

**************

-Workshop Day Four-

The next morning was similar to the day before, only it was Yoongi who had sent an early message asking for assistance. Once again, Namjoon and I didn’t get to spend our morning alone and I left him another note explaining my whereabouts.

This time, I was sure to not forget my jacket as I made my way through the wind to get to the main house. Judging by the soft wind and light rain, it seemed as if the storm was calming down. However, it was still rather cold—then again, I easily got cold.

I entered the main house and was welcomed with warmth. The only one present was Yoongi. Because I was the only other musician on the premises, Yoongi had asked to borrow one of my guitars. The strings on his had torn and he needed a guitar for today’s workshop.

Thankfully, I had traveled with two.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking one of the guitar cases from me. “Do you have a preference?”

I shook my head. He opened both cases and took out the guitars to see which one he would prefer.

I turned to the kitchen, eyeing the stove to see if there was any food prepared. “Have you cooked anything?”

“Jin-hyung said he would take care of breakfast; I’m doing lunch. Not sure who’s handling dinner yet.” Yoongi played around with my guitar, trying to get comfortable with it. “Jin should be here soon.”

Sure enough, I saw Jin making his way towards the main house. “Good morning,” he said as he walked in wearing his neat pajamas. He was the only one who wore proper nightwear. The rest of the guys wore simple t-shirts and gym shorts or close to nothing at all.

He caught me staring. “What?”

“You’re the only guy I know who actually wears pajamas. Just an observation.” I walked over to the espresso machine to prepare my coffee.

“That’s because you don’t know many men,” he said jokingly.

I cracked a smile. “So all the other guys are little boys?”

He nodded as he washed his hands so he could start prepping breakfast. “Don’t worry, Namjoon will evolve eventually.”

I wasn’t going to fall for his trap, so I didn’t answer. Yoongi, on the other hand, let out a loud laugh in the other room.

“Maiwa, what’s going on with you and Namjoonie?” Yoongi asked.

I did my best to come across as confused. “What do you mean?”

“Dr-drop the act, there’s something going on. I'm shore—sure of it,” Yoongi was now in the room, a look of mischief in his eyes. He was definitely excited about his suspicions because he was stuttering, a habit of his when he was either too tired or too excited. “He was too happy yesterday. He kept laughing at everything.”

“Did you guys sleep together?” Jin asked shamelessly.

“Kim Seokjin!” I smacked him.

He laughed. “Why-why-why? Would that be a bad thing? You’re both adults.”

“We’re friends,” I ducked my head, embarrassed by the feeling of heat coursing through my cheek and neck.

“With benefits?” came a voice from above us. A giggle followed.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be up?” I called out to the eavesdropping bunny above us.

Jungkook’s giggle continued. “You were really flirty with him yesterday.”

“I’m always flirty,” I argued.

“Not like that,” Yoongi’s face was beaming as he stared at me. “Come on, be honest. We won’t tell.”

That was a lie. “Please. Let’s say for shits and giggles that there was something going on between Namjoon and me and I decided to tell you. You would be off whispering the gossip into Jimin’s ear. And then Jimin would tell Taehyung and Hoseok. And if it wasn’t for Mean Girls Karen Smith on the second floor at the moment, Jungkook would be the next to know.”

Yoongi looked almost offended by the accusation. “I’m no gossip.”

“You tell Jimin every rumor you hear about,” I said bluntly.

“Jimin hardly tells me any gossip anymore,” Jungkook defended himself.

“Who’s Karen Smith?” Jin asked, looking lost as he worked on the veggies.

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi argued.

We went back and forth for a good while, the topic of discussion changing. I was proud of myself—Yoongi had completely forgotten about his suspicions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the middle of breakfast, another producer, Hiss Noise, dropped by for the workshop. He was only going to stay until the next day. He and Hyunseo were scheduled to leave in the morning. After tomorrow, the eight of us were going to be left fully alone.

Because of Noise’s short stay, we had a lot of work to do today. The workshop was more intense than the previous ones and longer.

During one of the breaks, most of the guys spread out throughout the main house, stretching and regaining energy.

As others walked around the house doing various things, I was sitting on one of the chairs in the living room playing the song we were testing on my guitar. For the last few hours I had been playing the same chords and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t sound right.

I looked at the sheet notes, thinking of how to fix it. And then it felt like I had found a fix.

“What’s up?” asked Namjoon, almost as if he could hear my thoughts.

Setting my guitar on the floor, I answered, “I don’t think this song calls for strings.”

“Piano?” asked Yoongi, also reading my mind. “I was thinking the same earlier.” He took out his keyboard and plugged it in.

Walking towards his seat I took it as soon as he stood up. I set the music sheet in front of me and played the song on the piano and dropped the tempo, humming the lyrics.

Namjoon and Yoongi, and a couple of the other guys, listened to my changes.

“Blues,” Yoongi said, understanding where I was trying to take the song.

I played it once again from the top, only this time, I sang the lyrics Namjoon had written. At the song’s crescendo, my vocals turned full R&B. Maybe it was due to the Proposal song I had been working on in my free time, but this For Youth song Namjoon had created felt like it needed some soul.

I finished the song softly, using simple and quiet notes.

A few of the members clapped.

“Jungkook is going to have fun on that last part,” Jin said, giving the youngest an encouraging slap on the back.

Jungkook let out a nervous laugh. “That’s going to be difficult.”

“You’ve done runs before,” I reminded him. While Jungkook tended to sing with an R&B/Pop feel, he rarely sang soulful runs and riffs. His runs were usually clean, so I could see how my take on the song was giving him worry.

“Not like you,” Jungkook answered.

“You don’t have to sound like me. Sound like you,” I pointed out. “But push yourself a little more. You said you want to experiment with your voice,” I reminded him.

This made him calm down. He had made mentioned in a private meeting with me that he wanted to do something different with his voice for this next album. Here was an opportunity.

“You got this, bro,” Hobi said enthusiastically.

Jungkook let out a sigh and walked over to the chair next to me.

Together, Jungkook and I practiced on the note as the other guys took a break. Namjoon and Hiss continued to work on the lyrics.

From where I was sitting, Namjoon seemed to be struggling. I tried to keep my focus on Jungkook, making a mental note to ask Namjoon about my worry in private later tonight.

“Ah, shit! What is that?” Hobi ducked down and went around me, who was closest to him.

His frightened state gave little concern to everyone. Most ignored his exclamation while some turned out of mild interest.

Hobi took hold of my arms and kept me in place in front of him—using me as a shield. I followed his eyes and caught sight of the threatening bug.

I followed the flying creature and thought it must be a moth by the way it was maneuvering. It was too dark to be a butterfly.

“Maya, go get it,” Hobi said, pushing me forward.

Most of the guys continued going about their business, paying Hobi no mind.

The moth flew up to the second floor, landing on the staircase rail. I let out a sigh. “Fine.” I knew if the bug wasn’t taken outside, Hobi would be extremely paranoid.

I made my way up the stairs, keeping my eyes directly at it so I wouldn’t lose it.

“You’ll be my hero Mai-Mai,” Hobi called out.

“Where’s she going?” Namjoon said in the distance.

Hobi explained to Namjoon what I was doing just as I got to the staircase where the moth was. I didn’t want to hurt it—I wanted to capture it and let it free outside. Keeping my eyes on it, I called out to the guys downstairs. “Can someone bring me a small container—preferably with a lid?”

“Yup,” Jimin called out.

I stayed put until I felt Jimin at my side, handing me the container. I made slow movements towards it, but the moth took off and flew higher up, landing on one of the posts on the second floor, above the balcony.

My eyes didn’t leave it as I went up the stairs and got to the second-story landing.

“Maya, don’t,” Namjoon’s voice was stern and almost commanding.

I ignored him and reached the post where the moth was.

“Noona, it's dangerous,” Jimin’s voice was full of concern.

“Jungkook, Noise, Jin come here,” Namjoon bellowed. “Stay under the stairs in case she falls.” Namjoon hurried up the stairs.

The guys hurried and followed orders.

“I’m not gonna fall,” I said, already standing on the thin beam, balancing myself.

Several voices below began to lecture me.

They were overreacting. I held onto the post and made a reach for the moth, but it was too far from me.

Suddenly, large hands were keeping hold of me around the waist. “Maya, get down.” Namjoon sounded as if he was on the verge of screaming at me.

I pushed up to my tiptoes, struggling with his strong hold on me.

“Oh! Maya, really, it’s not that serious. Get down,” Hobi’s voice sounded slightly panicked. He was at my other side now, holding my leg from around the post.

I made a final reach and trapped the moth inside the container. Its little wigs flapped violently inside, struggling to get out. I looked down at the concerned faces underneath me. “Here,” I said as I looked at Jimin.

Jimin took it from my hands and stepped back. “Will you get down now, please?”

As carefully as I could, I balanced myself on the beam. Namjoon’s and Hobi’s hands had stayed on me, ensuring they would catch me if I slipped. I was ready to jump off but the hands on my waist were impatient.

“I got her, Hoba,” Namjoon assured with finality.

Once Hoseok’s hands were off my leg, Namjoon took full control and took me off the beam. His solid arms handled me as if I was lightweight. My hands shot to his broad shoulders to keep myself balanced.

With great gentleness that I never would have imagined coming from Namjoon, my feet hit solid ground. His gentle touch made my heart flutter like the moth's wings. I almost forgot we were in front of our friends…and that he was upset with me. However, as my eyes reached his, the warm fuzzy feeling left.

His dark brown eyes scolded me. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

I let out a sigh and stepped away from his embrace. “I was fine. As if I haven’t climbed on things before.”

“Not something that’s 6 meters above the ground. You could have broken your neck.”

“I was careful.” I did my best to keep my voice steady. I knew Namjoon, along with the rest of the guys, was concerned, but I didn’t like being treated like a child—especially in front of my friends. A light embarrassment came over me at the sight of everyone looking at us.

“Over a moth? It would have been better if we used a broom to swat it out instead. It’s not worth you risking your neck.” Namjoon’s voice was not getting lower. Quite the opposite, his voice was getting louder.

“I know what I was doing. I’ve climbed trees all my life not to mention I did gymnastics and specialized in the balance beam,” I said, irritating in me rising.

“Alright, let’s settle down,” Jimin intercepted, trying to calm things down. He placed a careful hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Noona, hyung was only worried. He doesn’t mean to treat you like a child. You scared all of us. He knows you were being careful—we all do, but it still doesn’t stop us from worrying. Just think if it was the reverse: hyungi doing something dangerous.”

The thought of Namjoon standing on top of a 20-foot staircase came to mind and absolute terror came over. Jimin was right, I would have been livid. But I was experienced and not clumsy like Namjoon.

Jimin gave his older brother a light shove, signaling him to say something.

Namjoon didn't look ready to say anything at first, he still looked rather upset. However, after a few seconds, Namjoon let out a sigh and gave a nod, clearly to having calmed himself. “I apologize. I shouldn't have scolded.”

I gave him a nod. “Ok.” I gave a small smile, letting him know I was letting it go.

He looked relieved and returned the small smile.

Jimin’s face brightened, delighted to have settled things. “Ok. Let me take this little one out." He looked into the container to make sure the moth was still ok. Then he made his way down the stairs, Hoseok at his heels.

Namjoon took another breath and brought his hand to my shoulder. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s ok. Jimini’s right. If things were in reverse, I would have been terrified.” I leaned in and gave him a half hug.

Both his arms came around me and held me warmly.

I would have wanted nothing more than to stay like that with him, but we were shortly called down for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We worked a little while more after dinner but were too exhausted to continue. All of us exhausted, we were scattered along the house. The storm had gotten some momentum; the wind had picked up and the rain was coming a little harder. The guys were hesitant to leave to the other houses.

Noise was on the couch staring out into the backyard, watching the mild storm. “Hyunseo, I go half a mind in leavin’ tonight instead. Tomorrow the storm could be worse, man.”

Hyunseo shook his head. “We’ll be without light. Driving through the storm at night is risky. It’s best if we leave first thing.”

Noise nodded and turned to his younger comrades. “Y’all gonna be good here? This storm ain’t leveling up.”

“We got resources for the worse, if it happens,” Jin assured. “We have a plan set up. If things get too bad, we’re all going to take solace here. It’s the most stable of the houses and completely stoked.”

“Eight of you in one house?” Noise asked, shocked. Then he began to get up.

“We’ve lived together for ten years,” Jin pointed out.

“But no longer than that,” I heard Taehyung mutter.

I turned to him and remembered our first day here. They were giving up their shared dorm. I had been distracted by everything else that I had forgotten to ask Namjoon for further details. There was no reason for me to doubt Yoongi when he said everything was good between them, but there was something there that the guys weren’t sharing. I had meant to bring it up with Namjoon, but with our newly discovered feelings, I had forgotten about it.

Noise didn’t seem to hear Yoongi because he made no comment about it and was announcing he was going to head to his room. Hyunseo was right behind him.

As they left, I caught Namjoon’s eyes. He quickly looked away, clearly avoiding the topic.

If he really thought that was going to work, he was about to be proven wrong. I got to my feet. “I’m going to call it a night as well. I want to get out of here before the storm can get worse.”

Namjoon let out a breath. He wasn’t about to let me go outside by myself. He knew I was doing this intentionally. “We’ll message you guys as soon we get to the backhouse. Let’s all make sure we’re communicating. We’re scattered in four houses, so let’s keep in touch.”

Everyone nodded, agreeing with their leader.

After putting on our jackets, Namjoon and I made our mini hike up the small hill to get to the backhouse. The wind wasn’t too harsh, but the constant rain had made the ground muddy. I had to keep hold of Namjoon to keep myself from tripping a few times.

Surprisingly, Namjoon was steady and balanced on our way up the hill. He guided me inside the safety of the house before entering himself.

We couldn’t leave our shoes outside, too worried they might be taken by the wind. We took off our shoes and left them at the entrance of the home.

“Tea?” Namjoon asked, taking my jacket from me as I took it off.

“Yes, please,” I said.

He walked over to the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

I didn’t beat around the bush. “So, care to explain the whole dorm thing?”

He shrugged his shoulders as if the news was no big deal. “None of us are there anymore. Someone sleeps there once a week—tops. What’s the point of keeping it?” He was avoiding eye contact.

“Namjoon.” My voice was clear and serious.

Slowly, he turned to me but didn’t say a word. Just stood there looking…almost sad.

“What’s going on?” I asked, concern filling my voice.

There was a look of hopelessness in his eyes. It took him a moment to speak. “We’re taking a break after the album comes out.”

“What do you mean ‘break’?” My brain went to a dozen different places at the word, but rather than think the worst, I stayed calm. I didn't want to overreact without getting more details.

“I just can’t…do this anymore.” There was a sudden switch in his demeanor. His shoulders sagged, his face was fragile, and his body stiffened in a fight or flight type of way. The usual collected Namjoon was disheveled. “We’re set to come up with a small mini album that will contain new original music along with the anthology. On top of that, I’ve been trying to work on my own personal music that I really want to release, but can't because I should be focusing on music of the group. I have all these ideas of what I want to sing about but struggle in finding a sound for us as a group. And I know the guys are looking at me to give them a direction for a new era—but I can’t think of one. Meanwhile, these other songs I want for myself keep circulating in my head and I can’t get them out because I need to focus on Bangtan.”

He was rambling, talking fast and his pitch was going up and down. I had never seen him so stressed.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. Breathe, sweetie. Breathe.” I lightly rubbed his arms and tried to keep him still.

He let out a breath, his eyes holding some moisture. He was close to losing it.

That was the thing with Namjoon. He had an overall good hold of his emotions, and kept calm and collected most of the time. But once he opened up, he was like a faucet. His feelings took full over. I had seen him cry several times before, but never looking so disheveled.

I tried to calm him. “First, the mini album is not a must. PD-nim was very specific that this anthology was to be whatever the seven of you decided on. If you guys come up with two or three new songs, then that’s all there will be. It’s supposed to be a no-pressure workshop. That’s what we’re doing here: trying to help you guys figure out what you want this album to be.” I rubbed his arms, trying to soothe him. "If there are not enough songs for a mini-album, then fuck it. Just come up with one and make the rest of the work only an anthology."

His eyes were still hurt, still avoiding me.

“And the guys will completely understand the pressure you’re going through. If you’re at a stump, then you’re at a stump. There’s nothing you can do about it. Take it from someone who is currently there.”

He wasn’t convinced, still showing doubts.

I took his face in my hands, gently rubbing his cheeks. “You worry too much, you know that? And your worry makes me worry.”

It was true. Namjoon often looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Over the years, he had allowed the guys to take some of that burden away, but he still held so much responsibility. Put too much pressure on himself to excel. He was such a perfectionist that if he felt he wasn’t reaching certain expectations, he felt himself a failure. Failure was something Kim Namjoon did not do well.

His eyes met mine and he noticed my worry. “Sorry.” His arms came around me.

“Have you told this to the guys?” I asked, stepping into his embrace.

He nodded. “You didn’t say anything they didn’t already mention to me. I told them….” He stopped himself, looking hurt.

“What?”

Several tears began to form in his eyes again. “I told them I was feeling…lost. I don’t know where in Bangtan I belong. If I can’t be the songwriter the group needs me to be, then what’s my role? At the same time, I feel too linked to them—like I lost my self-identity. I have songs I want to do for myself, but then I feel…guilty.” He lifted his hands off me and rubbed his eyes. “So much shit going on in my head.”

My hands stayed on his arms. “And you think that physical distance will help,” I said, understanding now why they were giving up the dorms.

“It’s a big reason why. I’m hardly there anyway. I sleep there a couple of times a month, but mostly out of obligation. Obligation to the company, the group, PD-nim, the team…. But the more time I spend there, the more I feel out of place. It just doesn’t feel like it’s ours anymore.” He kept talking out loud without a linear thought. Now that he was voicing his concerns, all his worries were spilling out of him—dying to finally be let out.

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling his previous statement about having told the guys about his worries was only a half-truth. “Have you discussed everything with the guys?”

His eyes dodged mine.

I wanted to scold him. Tell him that keeping all his worries to himself did not help his mental health. But that’s not what he needed at the moment. He was having a moment of vulnerability and needed support.

I reached for his face, my fingers grazed over his chin until his eyes fell on mine. “They love and trust you. If you feel this will help, then there’s no need for guilt. You’re voicing your needs—you should never feel guilty about that.”

There was a slight calmness that came over him, but a grey cloud full of worry still lingered around him.

For a long moment, he kept his brown eyes on me and it seemed as if he wanted to tell me something but was holding back. I knew the feeling. The burden of keeping your worries to yourself and not allowing loved ones to help you. I wanted him to tell me everything, but from personal experience, I knew it was all up to him. He should only tell me once he was ready.

I stayed quiet and continued to hold him, patiently waiting for his next step.

After what seemed like an hour, he took a seat on one of the bar stools along the kitchen island, pulled me with him, and rested his forehead against mine.

He wasn’t ready to vocalize all he wanted to quite yet, but silently, he was asking if I could help with the heavy load. My arms came around his back and I pulled him closer. Without a doubt, I would happily take on his burden. I would take all his worries and carry it all myself if I was able to.

He took in a deep breath, using only his nose. It felt as if he was taking in the full scent around him. Like he was breathing me in.

Slowly, I felt Namjoon’s shoulders relax. The hands he had on my hips had a light touch to them now. The grey cloud had sailed away.

It didn’t take long for our kissing to start. Unlike the previous nights, Namjoon’s movements were softer, sweeter. There was no sense of urgency; we knew we had all night and there was no need to rush. He took his time exploring my lips, neck, and face with his lips. His hands wandered around my back, hips, and sides, but didn't push too much.

As our lips danced with each other, a roar of thunder rumbled in the distance.

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

NOTE: Thank you for the support, everyone. It's very much appreciated. As much as I'm enjoying writing fluff, I AM going to be posting some more mature content in the next chapter. I didn't expect this fic to be a long burn to get to the smutty scenes, but Kim Namjoon didn't let me speed things up! He's too much of a damn gentleman. But I'm putting my damn foot down and showing him who's boss! 🤨😅

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30

MASTERLIST

[simmonsized]

⭐Star⭐

star! again! gasp, wheeze. the pressure to come up with something.

man i am terrible at coming up with things to talk about here

UPDATE: my friend has given me a list of things to talk about. since it's like, you know, once ask, one thing, I will be talking about, as @alexharrier put it, "The Significance of the Dorito Locos Tacos."

This is going to be a bit silly, and probably also not like, completely non-nonsensical. Bear with me, maybe?

(Inevitably we will also cover some of la petite mort. hoping i won't have to explain the name to anyone, since you know. it's one of those terrible jokes we all hate.) <- SPOILERS FROM FUTURE ME: we cover la petite mort (ch 6)

So I guess the way it started was my own, personal enjoyment of these little nightmares, but also because Doritos feature pretty heavily in my Striderian lore. Or rather, Nacho Doritos specifically are a staple part.

Why, you may ask?? Well, it's simple really.

It all comes back to Mad Snacks Yo.

Well, that and the Braj Shop from Paradox Space. The weird secret to me is like, I mean I don't actually care that deeply about canon specifics but i LOVE to make little nods and references to them

In this case, I guess I decided that Doritos, specifically nacho Doritos, were a Staple part of the Strider household diet, and then I just. Dug in. sometimes, the why is just "because it's fun," and because there were other little canon things that just kept leading me back to Nacho Doritos.

And! Since I was like, man poor Dirk probably has grown up with all these references to Taco Bell built into Alpha Dave's work, which, yes, I was this deep in at this point, I decided he would probably be deeply interested in seeing what fast food had to offer him.

That and, if you did not know, or are not Logged The FUCK into the Taco Bell wikia like I am, Nacho Doritos Locos Tacos came out in February of 2012. It's like the fucking stars aligned, my friends. It was meant to be.

Much like Dirk, some of my best ideas come to me in the shower. Most of the time I do not climb out to get my phone to text them to people, but. You know. Special cases and what have you.

Also not to-- well yes to get deep into it. When you're juggling a cast and such, sometimes finding moments Alone can be difficult. This chapter required me getting Bro and Dave alone. At this point in time, Dave has been avoiding Bro on purpose, basically shrugging him off onto Dave, letting him handle it because if he does the work, Dave doesn't have to think about it, and doesn't have to think about all the complicated feelings he has in relation to Bro being back from the dead. He's also still dealing with the Dirk thing so. Yeah, his shit is fucked up.

He needed to talk to someone who isn't Dirk, and talking to Rose didn't make him feel worse, but it didn't make him feel Better either. So you know, while not reliable, Bro is the only adult Dave has ever really known, except maybe like, five seconds of Dad Crocker right before the End of the Game.

Also I already talked about ch 16 but this is the start of Dave's real "Bro is Actually Here and is a Person": "You let that feeling build up in your chest, and find it at war with your desperate need to make sure he isn't dying again. Fuck you couldn't even get the katana out of his chest. You wonder, hysterically, if he's got a scar."

Idk if I talked about this but at this point Bro is still re-calibrating, kind of stuck in between "i'm alive??? does not compute" and being fuzzy and confused and tbh, quite fucked up lol. can we get into lil cal and his influence? yes. should we?? nah probably not. should Bro be driving???? nO????????????????? but god, who else will deliver us taco bell. ubereats did not rear it's ugly head til '15, and in some places we are sTILL struggling to get these doritos locos tacos to the people. it's a crime, really. RIP in peace to the fucking beefy nacho burrito, but may the beefy 5 layer live on in its spirit.

The other point of the Trip to Taco Bell is that it is (said above) Bro and Dave's first REAL interaction. this is Dave dealing with a person he hasn't known for three years, who is fundamentally the same, yet so, so different. Bro's thoughts are ?????? shaded from us at this point, but I think he cares less about actually being different rather than just doing what is "easier," and in this instance, this means conceding to Dave's visceral reactions to pretty much each and every single thing he does. he's annoyed, but he's also a jackass, so who cares about his feefees.

fun little parallel we see in ch 31 later first begins in ch 6 too (not taco bell related): You stare. He curtsies. You scowl.

Anyway so this is one of them Pivotal Car Scenes. It is the moment I consider one of my Most Important (i like to use the capitals for emphasis). There's a lot I could say but like, those conflicting feelings are super important to me. Dave saw Bro as this giant, a hero he could never live up to, and now he is just some tired dude, but also simultaneously the same person, but Dave(sprite) wants better, and Dave is realizing, maybe, just maybe, he is allowed to want better, too. That that first death doesn't have to be the end of everything.

And then of course the tacos. You know, first of all, they are fucking delicious. Second of all, it's a silly little bonding moment for them, and then becomes a moment that is so sincere that Dave ruins it by admitting to his uh. Compulsion. as it were.

Anyway so this is just i guess. the beginning of the Dorito Locos Tacos extended universe. The tacos and their conversation and the staple of that horrible neon orange shell has radiated throughout time and space (aka, several different fics, none of which i will mention here lol)

But more importantly, today my friends openly admitted that they cannot help but think of rng when they go to to taco bell, and really, what better legacy could i possibly have?

Basically the Dorito Locos Tacos managed to create a cornerstone First Step, as it were, and uh. Well to this day chapter 6 is still my absolute FAVORITE chapter i've ever written so! idk if that says anything about me but there we have it.

[pianostarinwonderland]

ok so hi, i'm just passing by here, thoroughly confused and scared.

"It’s fine to be uncomfortable about shipping Malleus or Leona with the younger students. I respect the opinion. "

isn't it common sense to be uncomfy with adult x minor ships? 😭 it's not just an opinion because in what world or country think that, for example, a 14 year old and 18 year is ok? they're in different stages in life, what do they have in common?

"However, there have been instances where people who have shipped those two with younger characters have been harassed. There have been people who have shamed those shippers. It doesn’t just go for shipping third years with first years."

while yes, i understand that harassing them is wrong, they need to be informed that their ships are questionable and wrong. and if they dont like what they hear, welp, some people dont take it well 🚶‍♀️

"More often than not, people have shamed adults in their 20s for shipping themselves with the students."

now i am not going to sugar coat this, but what the actual fuck? 😁 what do they want from 16-17 year olds? i would be ok if its with lilia or malleus and the other 18 yr olds to an extent but WHAT? why do ppl in their 20s wanna be in the woohoo stage with kids? 😭 i'm 17 and i cant even look at a 15 year old in a romantic light. it's creepy, dont even say its ok.

so yes, here's my point of view in the issue, i am not intending to sound arrogant but this needs to be said 😭

[Reply to here!]

Hi anon! I thank you for the honesty in the ask. It’s well appreciated!!

First of all, the whole point of what I said was to point out the hypocrisy of those people who say “first years x third years shouldn’t be shipped together” but then pair their 16-year old first year OC/sona to a third year.

Secondly, I understand being uncomfortable with shipping adults and minors. In real life, shipping real people in general is a big no-no, as it really hurts the people involved in the ship. But I want to take this time to respond to your concerns and share my views on the topic, not because I want to argue with you, but because I think this is an important discussion that needs to be brought up. You’re free to disagree with me even after you read through this.

I’ll begin by clarifying: For the whole people over 20 ship themselves with the characters, I think I should rephrase that because that was not worded well and I’m sorry about that. 😅💀 When I said that, I meant that people would create self-inserts of themselves or OCs as students in NRC to be with the other students. It’s not older people preying on minors irl >_>

That would be them exploring the world of Twisted Wonderland. What sort of interactions can they have with the characters? How would this character react to their sona or OC, etc? And this is okay.

In fiction, there’s no real harm done to anyone because the people in the ship are just pixels. Sure, you can come at me and say, “But that’s going to make you think that it’s okay to be lewd to minors, and it’s going to validate p*dos! Fiction does affect reality!” But in truth, it is on the responsibility of the individual to distinguish what is fiction and what is reality. It’s the individual who decides to have the kinds of mindsets that they have. Take the classic violence in movies example: people can watch and enjoy movies that have violence and gore in them and still speak up against actual violence done to real people in real life.

Think about all the novels that are on the shelf, the movies being sold, the shows on Netflix. Most of the stories are written by adults. They could be stories depicting violence, stories depicting high school life, so on and so forth. There are going to be stories that would depict “bad things” to you. Does that mean that those writers advocate for violence or being naughty towards kids? No. Fiction is always used to express and share something. Share a story, share a lesson, share something that is part of human life, share the fantasies in people’s heads. Of course, it’s important to note that we should not glorify things that are immoral. Like, we’re not going to say yes to murder because that’s a no-no. But glorifying is different from sharing or expressing.

Fiction isn’t going to just make people p*dos or murderers. If they have that mindset of “oh it’s okay to kill people” or “oh it’s ok to sexualize minors”, that’s already a mindset that they possess, not something that fiction caused. If people are going to copy the fictional thing into their actual lives, then either they are that impressionable or there is something wrong with the way they think. If able to, it’s recommended that they seek professional help.

I think it’s important to say here that just because 18 is the legal age, that does not mean you now have to be an adult, be a caretaker of a bunch of 17 year olds and younger, pay your bills, do important adult things like finding the best laundry machine. No, if anything, having the mindset that “oh an 18 year old shouldn’t get together with a 16 year old even in fiction” can feed into the bigger mindset that you now have to be an adult who can’t have fun because you’re putting this barrier between being a child and being an adult.

Also, I don’t know if 14 year olds are middle school age or high school in some countries, but here in the Philippines, 14 and 18 year olds are in high school (Grade 8 and Grade 12 respectively). And people in high school get into lots of things. 😂 Like one time, there was an incident in my high school where two highschoolers of those ages were making out in school. Not to say that I condone making out in school, I’m just sharing this because stuff like this happens in real life, and we have to accept that things that we don’t agree with do actually happen. And while in real life, there would be consequences, at least in fiction, people can safely explore these types of topics without any repercussions.

About telling people that their ships are “questionable and wrong”, pretty much most of what I said in the above is already a reply to that. But I’ll be frank with you. That in itself is already a form of harassment. Think: you’re going up to a stranger just to tell them that them shipping these two characters is wrong. It’s rude, and people need to be aware of that.

Reminding people to not ship actual people is okay because countless people who have been shipped have voiced out that they have been harmed by it, and we need to respect that. And I say remind because you shouldn’t just go “oi you’re being gross by shipping these two people, gtfo” because that’s rude. But to tell people not to ship two characters just because it’s “wrong or questionable” in your eyes can be harassment, especially if you call them disgusting or spread word that they are disgusting people for supporting the ships you disapprove of. To add, people may have their reasons for diving into such ships. Maybe they use those ships as a way to cope with or express something that they went through in their life, or they use those ships as a way to explore the thought processes of these characters in such a situation. We can’t judge why people ship those ships, and as long as no one is hurt over what they do, just ignore those people if you don’t like what they do.

I hope this clears up confusion. 😅 I don’t know if I ever quelled any fears, but this is my point of view on things, and I hope you understand. I respect your opinion on the matter, and I’m glad you didn’t attack me for what I wrote. You’re free to disagree with me, even send me an ask in reply, but I won’t change my stance on this topic.

[controversialbatfamilytakes]

One of the things that always confused me about the Batgirl 2000s comic run was that weird relationship exploration with Cass and Kon. Like, wasn't she 18 and he was like at most maybe 16 at the time? Because isn't he supposed to be around the same age as Tim? Meaning he would've been 15-16 and I just find it weird that the writers would want a legal adult character to be with a minor, even if the age difference is small (being like 2-3 years). I know no comic run is perfect (I mean no one ever acknowledges that Bruce was lowkey neglectful towards Cassandra in anyway that didn't benefit the Batman and Batgirl agenda). He's all "David Cain abused her!!!!" But BRO you won't even teach her how to even fake having social skills. When I first read it in the early 2000s I was thinking "Okay, this will all play out in some logical and mature way" but it never really does. Any thoughts on this? (Also I am a Cass stan so please don't bully me I was so scared to ask this)

Yeah...DC isn't good with romantic relationships. I think Kon is supposed to be the same age as Tim, meaning, according to what Batgirl 2000 alone says, would give them about 3 years of age difference between him and Cass.

That being said, other comics dispute and mix up the ages of the characters all the time. Sometimes, Cass is the same age or very close in age to Tim (this is also indirectly highlighted by their different type of relationships with each other in the DC canon and DC alternate universes). Jen once told me about meeting some DC writers who admitted that a lot of the editors and executives kinda just forget what age group Tim and Cass are supposed to be in lol. Technically, there supposed to be slightly younger than Jason but then there was that comic where Bruce takes Cass to Jason's grave and says he's supposed to turn 18 but that doesn't exactly line up with Jason's actual return to comics and his age progression so its just one big old mess.

By now, Cass, Kon and Tim should all be adults but DC doesn't know how to do that. They have this idea that they gotta keep Tim perpetually 17 or he won't fill their dumb quota of Wayne boys being suck in the past (many of those poor writers and editors must have some serious dad issues. I feel y'all man but this ain't it). They also follow that weird trend of aging and de-aging Superfamily characters. So, who knows maybe Kon was 18 in the Batgirl run and then magically turned 15-16 again for Young Justice and Teen Titans 2008.

Another problem with Cass's age specifically is that a lot of the time, DC borders on infantilizing her cause some writers and editors don't know how to write neurodivergent characters. Yeah, it plays into the East Asian stereotype of infantilization but I think its more a problem of them not knowing how to write neurodivergents. They wrote it out of her character time and time again for a reason (cause heavens forbid we have a mentally disabled character whose also a badass.)

This is all coming from someone who has been infantilized all their life and still is for being Asian so. Yeah, DC isn't good at relationships or solidifying ages.

-Jun

[creatingnikki]

What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out. 

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices. 

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make. 

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it! 

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up. 

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday. 

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same. 

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people. 

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful. 

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away. 

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you. 

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs. 

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight. 

[runephoenix6769]

Why Netflix aging up the Characters could spell disaster.

Ok, so I’ve tried to find confirmation that this is true and kinda found bubkiss so far.  But.... Zuko being aged up by two years does not bode well his motivation or Azula (or Sokka for that matter), narratively speaking and will massively change how their stories/character arcs hit.  It’s my belief that by aging up the characters they’ll kinda lose some of the soul of the show AND the poignancy of just how much pressure has been laid on the shoulders of Gaang and Azula's trio. The nuance of Children fixing a world broken by adults. (I shall preface by saying that anyone under 18 is a child and therefore even joining the military at 16 is still awful, but this post is being written within the context of the avatar universe, its societal norms and customs.)

Hear me out.  Within the show, all the main cast of children are supposed to be outliers and exceptionally skilled, even surpassing many of the adults in that world in terms of mastery of their elements and ability to execute strategy.   At 16/17 Rangi had her first commission after graduating from the Junior Corps in record time, to eventually become one of the youngest Lieutenants in Fire Nation Army service, during peace time.  400 years later we are in the midst of a global war, meaning the goal posts within the various societies would have shifted considerably. (Apart from the Earth Kingdom, they seriously need to get with the times.) Zuko is the heir to the throne of an imperial expansionist country, where military service is expected of many of the aristocracy. (If not every citizen doing something towards the war effort.) And has been since the reign of Sozin.  Being the heir, he would naturally be expected to take a military commission at 16/17, as precedent has been shown to us via Rangi. This would serve to foster loyalty from his soldiers, train him in ways of command to prepare him for taking over the Nation, etc etc.  Lets say that Netflix keep the rest of his story the same, so he is still ousted at 13 sent on a mission of folly as a cruel punishment. Well that just casts his 4 years at sea and his behaviour towards his men in an awful light. In four years he has not learned regard for the safety of his men? It makes the treatment of his men look callous instead of being a child who doesn't quite grasp how much his crew do for him, that they too have been ousted and separated from their loved ones! Four years of shite treatment would surely land a mutiny on his hands?  If anything, it serves to make him look whiny, and incompetently oblivious to the needs of others.  And what does it mean if they move the timeline of the Agni Kai up by two years, to 15?  It doesn't have quite the same impact. Remember what sits at the core of this show. It is ultimately about children trying the fix the world that the adults broke, violence, cruelty, child soldiers and the effects of war upon them, under intense pressure to succeed.  Zuko is supposed to be a child who hasn’t even begun to figure out what he wants.   His character arc in the show is supposed to be that journey!

Which brings me to Azula!  A child prodigy, who took down Ba Sing Se in a relatively bloodless coup at 14! Its meant to be an awe inspiring Herculean feat! A top notch military strategist, she is meant to be unmatched by any of her peers.  Her age in the OG show certainly explains her behavior, her not being developed enough in many ways. This contributes towards the deterioration of her mental health when she cannot reconcile the heavily cultivated sense of self with the reality culminating in the tragic and heart wrenching mental breakdown at 14! At 16/17, it makes it look like a huge ass hissy fit! OG Azula’s inflection moment begins in The Beach episode. She is begins to ask questions of herself in the form of small experiments. It takes the form of her hiding their identities on Ember Island.  It is as if she is trying to feel out if she is as witty and charming as she believes, but she comes to learn that she is woefully socially inept, people don’t like her for her, beginning the spiral of insecurity and self doubt. We are also told that Azula’s mother thought her a monster and she is massively hurt by that, though she plays it off as nothing.  This insecurity is blown wide open on the Boiling Rock cemented by Ty Lee’s betrayal and culminates in Azula, who is truly terrified that he might burn her in a way similar to Zuko, seeing her being sidelined by Ozai.  She takes as a form of punishment for her ‘failure’, a form of banishment, that she has been discarded like Zuko, when she had imagined being by her father’s side as they burned the world in celebration of their mutual victory rather than for what is truly is which is Ozai being a glory hog and reaping all the benefits from Azula’s hard work.  Which brings me to the suggestion by Azula to burn the world in the first place. A child suggesting that you ‘Burn the World’ smacks a whole lot differently when you think of it as a kid not quite grasping/understanding the ramifications of such a suggestion, but a 16 year old? Such a thing tips her from confused mentally unwell child with a crippling fear of failure raised without a lick of compassion to full blown villainy with nothing remotely sympathetic about her! The way the last Agni Kai is framed you are supposed to feel sympathetic towards her! Which makes me wonder if they are gonna paint Azula as unhinged straight from the get go? Her unravelling at the seams is supposed to be her journey!

Sokka.... at 17!  In the OG show, Hakoda does the right thing by telling Sokka to remain behind to look after the village because at 13 he is too young to go to war.  Why leave him behind at 15? Would that not serve to feed into feelings of inadequacy, that he was deemed too weak to leave and fight with the other men and boys of the tribe?  Now, I would argue that Sokka’s OG arc rivals Zuko’s redemption. He does feel inadequate and overcomes it. He also unlearns a shit load of misogyny! What 17 year old doesn’t take responsibility for his own clothes, in a tribe were adults are few and far between? What 17 year old expects his little sister to be his mother and bear the brunt of the domestic? How obtuse and unfeeling would that make Sokka? It would propel him to the side of boorish, lazy and entitled rather than the sweet teenage boy who grows to realise he has a lot to learn.  OG Sokka is humble as hell and not afraid admit when he is lacking! He will go and openly admit his flaws and learn from others who he had previously written off.  Suki gives him a glass of respect women juice and he keeps on chugging, only adding to the Sokka we know and love.  This is supposed to be his journey! 

OG Sokka is just as much of a genius as Azula!  They are both supposed to be exceptional. Having them sit at 16/17 figuring this all out within a war torn world were it would be totally normal for them to participate in the generational war machine kind of robs them of this. Their more child like behaviours, grappling with concepts and truly understanding their consequences is supposed to remind us that they are children, being asked to do something no child ever should! Aging them up casts these things in a whole other light, skewering the what makes this show so beloved!  If you change the core characters to the point their journey’s don’t make sense within the world they inhabit, or they become unrecognisable to the audience you’re trying to milk then really.....what’s the point?  

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

Has logan met patton? I know he knows who patton is but i dont know if theyve ever met. And if they HAVENT r u going 2 write it in2 the story bcuz id love 2 read logan meeting janus' & remus' little boy

hehehe yes he has and in response to ur tags about that on the other post: yes we absolutely are getting a scene like that at some point <3 very likely more than one actually

[ask me questions abt the backstories/lore for my if you’re going my way, i’ll go with you fic]

as per usual for this series, extensive ramble under the cut. cw for talk abt pregnancy and birth, which i personally think is the coolest stuff ever but ik some people get squicked by it.

so basically. logan met janus when they were 15-almost-16 and about 4-5 months pregnant with patton. logan was 24 at the time, and had pretty solidly established himself as one of the most powerful young heroes around, and was visiting the super school to meet with high school students and see if he thought any of them would be a good apprentice, bc he thought that could be a neat thing to do. one of janus’s teachers was uhhh an awful person who should Not have been allowed in a position of power over children, and janus had the misfortune of being one of their least favorites. this teacher like pulled logan aside and told him not to even bother interviewing janus and like implied that janus was definitely going to be a supervillain because of like personal moral failings or whatever. logan was like “hm. that’s a very assholeish thing to say about a child. i don’t like that” and instead of taking the teacher’s advice he interviewed janus first out of any student in the school and baaaasically offered them the apprenticeship on the spot. janus was confused by this because. his shapeshifting didn’t work while he was pregnant. so they essentially had no access to their powers for another 4-5 months still and were like “why would you ask me to work with you what.” however she was also like. Not Having A Fun Time at school, they were being bullied over their pregnancy and especially over not having powers because of the pregnancy, and the idea that she would “have” to be a supervillain was being thrown around a lot. he was honestly on the verge of dropping out and becoming a villain because he felt like he just did not have any other options. but then logan showed up and was like “come be my apprentice.” and janus accepted the offer. partly to spite their classmates & teacher and prove them wrong, and also just. logan was nice and didn’t talk down to janus and clearly wanted to help her reach her full potential which none of the other adults in her life were doing at that point. 

so janus became logan’s apprentice, and logan was like “yeah we can kind of put your responsibilities for that on hold for a little while until you get your powers back.” supers who take on apprentices are expected to ensure that their apprentices also complete the remainder of their education in between their hero work, so he suggested janus focus on that first and then the apprentice stuff later, instead of doing them simultaneously like most people do. he also found out that janus had like. no plans for how to handle having a kid or what they wanted their birth experience to be like or anything, they had just decided they wanted to keep the pregnancy and didn’t really know where to go from there, and didn’t have a ton of support to help them figure that out either. so logan was like “i guess i will just teach myself everything about how childbirth works really quick here” and. did lol. and helped janus make a plan. i have a SpIn in pregnancy and childbirth (i really want to become a doula and work with queer and trans expecting parents), and me and all my siblings were homebirths so that’s what i’m most closely familiar with, and also for most pregnancies homebirths are actually a really really good option (imo often the best option), so bc that’s what i’m best equipped to write, that is what janus decides to do lol. and i could have logan help them find a midwife which would probably be more realistic, but im more leaning towards logan just being janus’s midwife/doctor/whatever for the pregnancy himself because i think that would be very cute and this is a superhero au it doesn’t have to be realistic i can do what i want. and like. logan being the one who catches patton when he’s born would be SO so cute and good. like. like he is the first person who ever held patton. how precious is that. and then he immediately passed him over to janus and helped them nurse him and emphasized that skin-to-skin contact is VERY important for babies n their parents, especially in the very first few hours of life. so janus pretty much just got to hold patton the whole entire time as soon as he was born, except for a quick minute to do his apgar tests, and then again just another quick minute to put a diaper on him. and logan was the one who cut his umbilical cord. <33 and janus like. had a pretty tough labor, i think it was probably about 16 hours, so she was Exhausted and doesn’t remember most of it, but he very clearly remembers holding patton for the first time and just being Overwhelmed by how Tiny he was and being like Oh My God I Made That. and then they also pretty clearly remember just holding patton for a while after that. and after everything was all done she finally got to sleep still holding him. and aaaaaaaaaaaaaa i have so many feelings abt this all. birth is so cool and good and delightful.

ALL OF THIS TO SAY that patton is essentially the reason that logan and janus had the opportunity to get so close with each other in the first place, and logan is 100% one of the most important adults in patton’s life!!!!! patton calls logan uncle logan <3

logan also is one of those people who talks to babies and children pretty much exactly the same way he talks to adults, so he has frequently given patton like. college-level lectures on quantum physics or whatever, in response to patton asking barely-related questions like “what kind of flower is this” lol. (please imagine one of baby patton’s early words being “desalinate” because logan once spent six months coming up with a more efficient way for desalination plants to run and would ramble about his progress to baby patton.) patton as a result of this habit of logan’s now has a delightful mishmash of random factoids that he knows and will spout off randomly (confusing teachers very much about how did he know that), as well as vague semi-understandings of random facets of the stuff logan has talked about (he can kind of explain complex chemical reactions, or imaginary numbers, or certain aspects of calculus, for instance, but it will definitely be confusing to anyone listening because he lacks a lot of the necessary vocabulary and all of the background information that most people get Before they learn about those things, so he doesn’t 100% understand the Why behind it all even if he is correctly explaining it), and also a lot of adorable childish misunderstandings of the stuff logan has talked about (he definitely thought for a long time that when logan talked about “atoms” he was saying “adams” and was just like “okay, i guess people named adam are just really important to science.” stuff like that).

getting babysat by logan is one of patton’s Favorite things, because he always has So much fun and logan always has something new and interesting for them to do together!!! logan is also Way easier than janus is for patton to talk into things like letting him stay up past his bedtime. logan is Much weaker to patton’s pleading baby face than janus is. logan will vehemently deny this if it comes up lol. janus thinks it is very funny and cute. again: they are all a precious lil found family together <33333 i love them all sm gsjhdfkghsdlkfghaks

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 22 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Things are changing for the better. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Difference, Sub Drop, vague mentions of trauma/dissociation, PTSD (mostly comfort) Word Count: 7.25k

MASTERLIST

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The dulcet, bustling sounds of the Dulles International Airport were more soothing than I expected. Normally, the massive crowds and constant barrage of information would make my brain go into overdrive, but there was something about Spencer being there that made it all turn to white noise. If I had to guess, I would say it was the feeling of trusting someone to take care of you.

I still hadn’t gotten used to it.

“Hey, I got you something.”

Even then, when he’d approached me from behind and gingerly placed the bag on my lap, I barely even flinched. I smelled the contents of the bag before I noticed the logo or managed to open it, but once I confirmed it was what I thought it was, my eyes immediately teared up.

“Oh my god,” I keened, pulling out the familiar blue cup holding a much too sweet, much too large cinnamon bun. Although my mind was running with a million things to say to express just how appreciative I was, I took a bite out of it before I said anything else.

“I love you so much,” I mumbled around a mouth full of pastry.

Spencer tried to respond, but after one glance at me, fingers and face already covered in frosting after only a few seconds, he burst out laughing. 

“You’re a complete mess,” he chastised, trying to cluck his tongue but failing in his laughter.

I just smiled back, not even bothering with the plastic utensils and enjoying the indulgence with absolutely childlike joy. It wasn’t even just the sugar or my fingers pressing into the warm, sticky dough that made the morning seem so much better; it was the way Spencer watched me.

With one arm leaned against the chair, his whole body was turned towards me. It was clear from the slightly glassy look in his exhausted eyes that he was also stuck trying to find the right words to say to express just how grateful he was that we could still have moments like that.

Those same eyes roamed over my figure with such an overtly intimate gleam that it almost made me blush. If he’d touched me, I definitely would have. But he kept his hands to himself, and eventually, buried them into his carry-on bag. I didn’t even look at what he was doing, too lost in the sweetness of being cared for.

That foolhardy trust was a mistake. Because, it turned out, Spencer Reid was a monster.

Without any warning at all, a cold wet wipe was dragged over my cheeks. I flinched back, only to find Spencer’s hand holding onto my head and stopping me from turning away. The madman even had the audacity to smile as he gingerly wiped the frosting from my cheeks and chin. Of course, considering the fact I was thrashing wildly away from him, it ended up mostly on my lips.

“Pfftbtb! Spencer!” I spit and whined, earning confused looks from basically everyone in the vicinity. What they would find when they looked over was him in a fit of laughter, continuing to try and clean my face, which was still covered in sugary frosting despite his best efforts to remove it.

“I thought you enjoyed the taste of alcohol,” he teased.

“First of all, no one does, and second—” I started, only to be cut off with a kiss over my much too clean mouth. I smiled, but only because it used to be my move. I wondered when exactly the tables had turned, and it became his job to shut me up with a kiss.

“I know,” he whispered, licking his lips just to cringe at the taste he’d forced on me, “I’m just joking.”

I decided then that the sight and shared disgust for ethyl alcohol were enough for me to forgive him for the time being. I let him clean the rest of the evidence of my greed from my face but decided to clean my fingers myself. I popped each one into my mouth in what I’d imagined was a very non-sexual manner, but Spencer still seemed to enjoy watching me as each digit was cleaned. Granted, he handed me another wipe seconds later. Damn germaphobe. Like he didn’t shove his tongue in my mouth on a daily basis.

The rest of the treat was shared between us, with utensils this time, in a relative quiet. Brief giggles or sighs were all there was to be said. Once there was nothing left to fixate on, I was left only with my thoughts and Spencer’s eyes that still watched me like a horribly affectionate hawk.

“I’m really sorry,” I mumbled without realizing. I’d almost hoped he wouldn’t even hear it, or let it go without a conversation, but of course, he couldn’t do that.

“For what?”

“For making you do all of this,” I explained with a heavy sigh, “I feel like a big baby.”

Spencer’s hands came to brush away the stray strands of hairs from my face. They weren’t actually in the way of anything; I think he just wanted to make a better view. That alone was enough to make me smile, but that only seemed to make him feel guilty.

“Don’t apologize for this. This is my fault,” he said just as quietly. I mirrored his motion, running my fingers through his hair and watching as his mouth dropped open in a pleased smile.

“No, it’s not. You’re wonderful,” I said through my own. It was only a little bit sadder than his, but wasn’t that usually the case? I could only imagine what would happen the day we were both overflowing with nothing but joy. Before, that thought might lead me back to the bank, the place that ended our last purely happy encounter, but…

I looked at Spencer, with his mouth still slightly open and his head lolling back and forth with the little weight of my hand, and I couldn’t bring myself to think of anything bad. So I just thought of the picnic, instead. I thought of him licking my hand as we rolled in grass, and of his own hands working through my hair to make it into something besides a mess on my head.

I looked at Spencer, and I saw beautiful things. And the longer I played with his hair, the more relaxed and content he became. Of course, I would never be satisfied. His smile was the most beautiful thing to see, and I needed it to deal with the guilt still sitting like rocks in my stomach.

“Besides, it’ll be so much easier putting down my work and actually getting sleep when you’re waiting for me,” Spencer slurred, his neck relaxing to drop the weight of his head against my palm.

“I hope not too easy. The world needs you, Dr. Reid,” I kindly reminded.

His eyes fluttered open, trapping me in dark honey irises filled with pure adoration. “You need me, too,” he whispered.

“Arrogant bastard.”

Naturally, he took it as a compliment, his smile growing into a smirk as he answered, “A little bit.”

He should have known better than to give me that look, though, because within seconds my hands fell from his hair. A small whimper came from the pitiful man at the loss. It was quickly followed by a sharp inhale when my hand grabbed his thigh.

“You think I’ll actually let you sleep?” I whispered.

Aside from the obviously tense quadriceps beneath my palms, Spencer showed very little response to my suggestion. Well, rather, he showed little arousal to it. There was a reaction— just not the one I expected.

He looked... nervous.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that...”

“What?” I shot back immediately, my hands withdrawing and tugging on my shirt while I instinctively tried to hide from him. I was trying to look less guilty, but I was acutely aware that my actions screamed the opposite. So, I tried to combat my obvious anxiety with a voice that was far louder than it needed to be. “I swear I’m on all my medications. I haven’t missed a single therapy appointment, either!”

Spencer’s hands were gentle and cautious when they came to my wrists, gently pulling them away from my chest. “I know. I trust you,” he said with a sad but still genuine smile, “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted to handle this.”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” The words tumbled out of me in the least convincing manner. Spencer was too smart to fall for them, although I could see a playfulness bloom through his features.

“No offense, but you just cried over a cinnamon bun,” he said, unable to stop a few chuckles from mixing with the words.

“It was just really good, okay?” I scoffed, tearing my hands away from him and feigning offense despite his little disclaimer. From there, I sank down in the shitty airport chair and refused to look up at him. I could still feel his cheeky, arrogant little grin watching me.

Eventually, after I thought we’d suffered enough and I could already feel my legs going numb, I weakly conceded, “Fine. What are my options?”

“Well, basically anything. But the main thing to consider is...”

He paused. It was one of the sure signs that he was taking the situation very seriously. Usually, he would just spout out whatever came to mind and sort out the details later. But this time, he spoke slowly and purposefully. “Majority of our relationship has been based on physicality. Whether it was sex or healing or hurting and I... I want to give you the option to not do that. At least, not for a little while.”

A feeling of dread filled my blood that I could suddenly hear rushing through my ears. I didn’t tell my heart to beat faster, but it did. My hands that had once again crossed over my chest suddenly itched to hold him.

“Why would I not want to?” I asked, fiddling with the buttons on my shirt and occasionally glancing up at him only to realize that he wasn’t looking at me, either. I tried not to read into it. After all, he was the profiler— not me.

“It’s not a matter of avoiding it. I just need you to know it’s not expected of you.”

Without shifting my body at all, my eyes were glued to him. The strain of the angle and the sound of those words caused them to burn, but I refused to let tears fall again. He wasn’t rejecting me, right? He was telling me that he loved me. There was no reason to be scared.

I wasn’t used to that yet, either. But I wanted to be. And judging by the way his hand cupped my face and guided it back to his, I think Spencer felt those anxieties. He tried to will them away by pressing his forehead against mine and letting his thumb ghost over flushed cheeks.

“Don’t be scared. I just need you to know that we don’t have to have sex for you to be worth my time and attention.”

The tears grew bigger under his scrutiny, but they didn’t fall until he closed his eyes. I think that was why he did.

“I love you,” he assured me with a whisper, “I’m not going to deny you affection or intimacy if that’s what you want. I just need you to know that it is always an option.”

Normally when Spencer pulled away, the air felt cold in his absence. For so long, my body had felt lonelier and less than without him. But in that busy, bustling airport, I felt just as loved even when his hands fell away and he sat back up in his chair.

For those who might’ve been watching, they would just see two lovesick idiots whispering sweet nothings in a flagrantly public display of affection. They wouldn’t have heard the weight of the words or felt the way my perception of the whole world shifted from them.

Spencer smiled again, still nervous, but also clear and authentic.

“I’m sorry,” he told me with his eyes fixated on my hands in my lap. He made no move to hold it, although I could tell he wanted to. I suspect he wanted me to focus on the words, so I tried my hardest. I almost asked him what he was sorry for, but he answered first, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before.”

A lump quickly formed in my throat that I tried to swallow. When that failed, and I felt the telltale signs of tears filling the sides of my eyes, I did the only thing I could think of to hide. I threw my arms around the only thing that never failed to make them better. I buried my face in Spencer’s neck and laughed along with him as my eyelashes and breath tickled the soft skin.

After a brief second of listening to our hearts settle into a matching rhythm and letting our body heat sink into the clothes between us, Spencer groaned, “How are you still sticky?”

—————————————————

A couple weeks prior, the thought of being alone in a hotel room waiting on Spencer to finish work for the day would have instilled the fear of God in me. I would have done just about anything to avoid the exact situation I found myself in now.

But honestly? It wasn’t all that bad. It was the perfect opportunity for me to force myself to slow down. Granted, that mostly just meant that I would watch bad TV in a bathrobe with overpriced food, but... like they say, change is as good as a rest.

The hardest part about it was actually just convincing myself that I deserved the rest. While I was taking naps and trying to do anything to unwind, I knew what Spencer was doing.

Well, I had some idea of what he was doing. Reality was probably worse than my imagination— it usually was with his job. At first, I had let that guilt get in the way, but at some point over the nine hours, I realized that I would have to find a way to cheer myself up. Because as soon as I heard that small beep of the keycard, I would have to find a way to remind him of all the beautiful things in the world.

No pressure, right?

The sun had already started to set, and I hadn’t heard from him in hours. We’d started the day out with a constant line of contact, but over time he became too busy. Which, again, just meant that I would have to work even harder when he finally arrived.

Luckily for me, by the time Spencer had arrived, there was no need for a pep talk or acting of any kind. My heart immediately started to race the second I heard his voice down the hall. I had already bolted from the bed and positioned myself just far enough from the door that I could jump forward the second it opened far enough to fit me.

And when it did, I pounced.  

“Spencer!” I cheered, throwing myself into his arms that had fully been expecting me. Still, the two of us crashed back against the frame and I heard the breath be knocked out of him from the impact.

“Hey, little girl,” he managed to laugh with empty lungs that made it impossible to forget how tired he was. His arm eventually settled at my lower back, lifting me slightly so he could move us from the door’s path. But when we were out of harm’s way and the latch clicked softly in place, Spencer didn’t let me go. In fact, he tossed his bag into the chair at the desk and wrapped his other arm around me, too.

“How was work?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“You know...” he muttered with a crackling voice, “awful.”

If that hadn’t given it away, the way he buried his face in my neck certainly did. His hands were even more insistent, pressing into my back as he led us both to the bed.

I had to laugh, though, as the realization dawned on him that he’d have to let go of me if he didn’t want to track filthy shoes in our bed. A heavy sigh fell from his lips when he finally released me, practically throwing me onto the terrible mattress before taking his seat next to me.

“I missed you,” I announced in the ambient noise of the cheapest hotel that the government could justify using.  

Spencer looked up at me, but the words took a little longer to register. I could only imagine how busy his mind must’ve been, and the guilt quickly came creeping back.

“I missed you, too,” he returned, albeit with a tint of sadness in his tone. But the longer we stayed there, the calmer he seemed. It was such a powerful effect of our proximity that by the time he did lay down next to me, he seemed like the man that had wiped frosting from my face in the middle of a busy airport.

Spencer must have noticed the shift, too, because no sooner had his head hit the pillow than he had flipped over, throwing his leg over me to pin me down against the bed.

My initial reaction was to keep laughing, but the noises were muffled by the persistent kisses he gave. They started at my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose but landed on my lips. I felt the tension leave his shoulders as he lowered more of his body weight against me, and I reveled in the feeling of his presence.

“God, I needed this,” he growled just before his tongue slipped into my mouth.

Everything we’d talked about at the airport felt a lifetime away, and as soon as I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh, I only had one goal in mind. I forced my hands between us, trying to remove his tie with the hope that it would shed some of the thoughts he’d brought back from work.

But then it all stopped. Spencer had pulled away, grabbing onto my wrist and pinning it to the bed beside me once more.

“No, we don’t need to do that. I just wanted to kiss you,” he panted through heavy breath and swollen lips. I couldn’t stop staring at them long enough to answer, but it was clear from the look on his face that any plea I gave would be for naught, anyway. “I’m honestly way too exhausted to give you the attention you deserve.”

I believed him. Even when he hadn’t slept for nearly two days, he still looked livelier then. I had a sneaking suspicion that it had less to do with sleep and more to do with emotions. I wanted to help him with that, too, like he did for me, but I didn’t know how. So, I did the only thing I did know how to do well, which was to place a soft peck against his lips until they turned up into another smile.

“Get some rest, old man,” I murmured, “I’ll be here to kiss again when you wake up.”

“Let me hold you,” he answered immediately, nuzzling his face against my neck like a puppy seeking any shred of attention. I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because of the way his hair tickled or because it was so strange to see him so vulnerable while still in dominant, albeit disheveled, work clothes.

“Fine. Only because you asked nicely.”

Continuing the trend of being remarkably adorable, Spencer giggled as he rolled onto his side. I was almost tempted to turn towards him, but he had already wrapped his arms around me before I could decide. He pulled me as close as he could before his lips once again settled against the column of my throat.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he stated absently. It was so quiet that I’m not sure he’d actually planned on me hearing it. But when I reached a hand up to run through his hair, he spoke with a shaky, relieved whine, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

A gentle, warm exhale breezed over my skin as he continued, “I love you so much.”

From that point, any words he might’ve whispered were muffled through sloppy, sleepy kisses over my neck and shoulder. His hands, though slow, were still rough and purposeful as they pawed at me in a way that was only vaguely sexual. It was more like he was trying to prove to himself that he was actually here with me, and my breasts just happened to be the first thing he could grab.

That still didn’t stop my mind from running wild. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as I focused on the way his breath felt against areas still wet from his kisses. And when I arched my back, I felt his hips press harder.

Eventually, when I could trust myself to speak without whimpering, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to...”

I peeked back at him before continuing, having noticed a lull in his kisses. Sure enough, Spencer was fast asleep, his lips still attached to my shoulder. I had to chuckle at the sight, but my heart did hurt for him. I couldn’t imagine how tired he must have been to fall asleep then, and still in his clothes, much less.

The guilt over being the main cause of his tiredness was enough to keep me still for at least two hours. I spent that time slowly inching to a more comfortable position, only to be squished seconds later by Spencer. Even in his sleep, it seemed he was terrified of the prospect of me slipping from his arms. He was just being dramatic, though. It’s not like I had anywhere to go.

Wait, that sounded wrong. Truthfully, there were many places I could go, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay with Spencer, tangled in his long limbs and tickled by his hair that had grown long enough to gracelessly flop onto my face regardless of position.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to leave at all.

But I did. Inch by inch, I carefully slipped from Spencer’s arms. Against all odds, I managed to maneuver through the death grip he had on me and plop down on the ground beside the bed. My mind found that to be the perfect time to recall the lecture he’d given me about how suitcases, and more specifically, their wheels, were the most dangerous bacteria-laden aspects of traveling, but I dismissed the thought shortly after I stood again.

I didn’t want to leave Spencer’s embrace. I’m not really sure why I did. There wasn’t even really a particularly angsty reasoning for it. I just had this feeling, this tingling on my skin and a weight in my stomach that told me I was meant to be doing something different.

The only problem was that I had literally no idea what the fuck that something different was.

So, naturally, I did what every young child does when their parents had grown tired of their restless children jumping on the hotel bed. I grabbed the keycard and the ice bucket and set out on a very thrilling journey to find the vending room. The first part was the hardest. It was shutting the door to return the room to darkness, knowing that Spencer was alone in bed.

It was hard, but it wasn’t impossible. I slipped from the room into the horrible yellow lighting of the halls with the dizzying wallpaper and patterned carpet without another thought. I’d hoped that the walk might bring me answers to the mood I was currently wrestling with, but I was wrong. Because it basically only took me three doors to find the room that I was looking for.

Great.

I threw the door open haphazardly, actually contemplating grabbing the ice and returning to bed no wiser than I had left it. But when the door swung shut behind me, the humming from the machines bled into my brain and started to cover all the other thoughts. It was warmer than my room, as well as smaller and quieter. Of course, it was also remarkably less private, but it was also like 2am. If someone came in to find a strange girl sitting on the floor next to the ice machine, that was their own fault.

In a strange way, it was the most peaceful I’d been in a long time. As much as I loved being with Spencer, these circumstances made it hard for me to not feel like I didn’t belong. Probably because I didn’t. He was here on work, a life that he’d tried very hard to keep away from me. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I was sure he’d gotten a number of questions from Morgan and Garcia about my presence, but he hadn’t shared them with me. I’d even asked him, just so I could concoct my own retaliatory questions for the nosiest of them, but he just laughed the question away.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just the realization that Spencer had a life of his own and I was just starting to see it for the first time. I was learning so much about him and honestly… None of it was bad. Most of it was just downright silly. Things like prank wars and physics magic and careful, chemistry-based improvements to shitty coffee. I was just too busy realizing that I was falling even more in love with Spencer to notice anything else.

Including, apparently, the sound of the door to the room opening. Trust me when I say that was saying a lot; the presence of Aaron Hotchner was not easy to miss.

“Can I join you?” His voice filled the room despite its low volume, and I followed the sound with a small smile that grew at the sight of him in casual clothing. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it sure did make him less intimidating than our previous encounters.

“Sure,” I said as I pulled the still-empty ice bucket into my lap. Once he took his seat beside me, I rolled my head toward him to try and figure out what exactly he had planned. But after another few seconds of silence, I realized that he was doing the same thing I was.

Improvising.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, insistent that it wasn’t my job in this scenario to come up with the advice.

Hotch seemed equally lost, and with a slight shake of his head, he explained, “I only heard the door open once. Figured it was worth a trip to get some ice to check.”

He held up his matching ice bucket, to which I lifted mine to knock together like the worst kind of toast. It at least succeeded in making him laugh, although the sound was short-lived. We both recognized the shoddy attempt at humor was just masking the things I didn’t want to talk about.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

He had never really been a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy.

“Freakin’ profilers,” I affectionately muttered back, which only earned me a playful warning glance that I, for once, didn’t choose to ignore. “I don’t know. I’m guessing it’s probably the 3-hour nap I took when we got here.”

Then, deciding that still didn’t describe the situation well enough, I tagged on, “You know, while you all were working and saving the world and what not.”

Unfortunately, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of the BAU: Do not ever speak poorly about yourself. Not even an implication.

“Rest is important. No reason for you to suffer for us,” he returned without pause.

“You sound like Spencer,” I said through a half-hearted laugh.  

Hotch shared my laughter, causing them both to grow in volume as he snarkily replied, “And who do you think taught him?”

“Right. Sorry.” I held my hands up in surrender, but we both knew it would be harder than that.

But that was okay. He came prepared.

“So, what else is wrong?”

“So persistent, you lot,” I chuckled. I half expected him to let it go, but he just turned to stare at me with that usually stoic face contorted with an obvious reprimand. I swear, I didn’t even realize his eyebrows could move that far. But there were, raised up his forehead as his cheeks dimpled from his little, knowing smirk.

“I don’t know,” I sighed, “Just thinking about things and I was scared I would wake up Spencer. Like he would feel my anxiety in his sleep.”

“What’s making you anxious?”

I paused. For a moment, I thought about lying. Not the kind of transparent lie that you do when you say that everything is fine. The kind of lie that also contained the truth. There were many things that had happened lately that would explain my anxiety, and they would be believable enough because I did still feel them.

“Everything. You know. The usual,” I said softly, attempting to stall.

Because that wasn’t what the problem was that day. The problems that day were… complicated in a different way than the usual angst. So, I let the thoughts marinate for a moment, considering the different outcomes and deciding which I really wanted.

I hadn’t let myself want things in a while. Maybe that realization was why I decided to just tell him the truth, despite how embarrassing it felt.

“It’s not bad anxiety, necessarily. It’s just this realization that… I don’t know.”

“Take a guess,” he pressed, feeling the hesitance as I stood at the brink of what I really wanted to say. The real answer to why I was sitting on the floor of an ice machine vending room with my boyfriend’s boss, who also happened to be our shared adoptive father figure.

I took a deep breath, clutching onto the ice bucket so tightly that my knuckles blanched and the edges imprinted on my hand until I blurted out, “That I think I’m ready for something else. Something more.”

We both stopped then, enjoying the noises of machinery and the barely-there echo of my words.

“Something more, huh?” he repeated more clearly.

I didn’t appreciate the way the words were practically sung through a clever grin, and before he could take that train of thought any further, I stopped him with an answer too loud to not be deemed defensive.

“Not like that! Not like, let’s run off and elope and have lots of babies tomorrow!“ He didn’t look convinced, so I continued with a much more believable promise. “Don’t worry, I’m not sniping your genius.”

“Thank goodness,” he replied sarcastically. I appreciated his ability to keep things lighthearted, and for a second I did have to laugh at the fact he was such a different person when he wasn’t at work. He must’ve taught Spencer more than I realized. And, in turn, Spencer was teaching me. I just wasn’t sure when the lesson would be over, or if it had already ended.

“I’ve just held onto my independence and this… heavy bullshit for so long, and I’m a little worried about what that means,” I thought aloud.

Again, Hotch had read my mind, or at least, my body language, and demanded the answer he saw written across my features. “What do you think it means?”

“Do you always give fatherly advice like this to whiny girls in ice machine rooms?” I shot back with my first attempt at a glare. It only lasted until he flashed me a toothy smile and his own clever retort.

“No. Now answer the question.”

“I had to try,” I grumbled, only to be shut down again in an instant.

“I’ll forgive you when you answer.”

With a begrudging sigh, I tried to do what he asked. But I only barely got through one word before they turned to a lump in my throat. I choked on the words strongly enough that tears I hadn’t anticipated began pooling on my eyelashes. The power of a profiler, I guess, to know I was on the verge of an emotional catharsis before I did.

“I know we all change. I know that no one stays the same. We all go through things and they change who we are. And that can be good, right? But…”

Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop, turning and tumbling from clumsy lips still chapped from incessant biting. But teeth and willpower couldn’t stop the feelings that caused them, and if Spencer had taught me anything, he’d taught me that speaking a feeling into existence was half of the battle to let it go.

“But sometimes it’s gotta just be bad, right? Like, we’ve got to acknowledge that sometimes we change in an irreparable way that’s just bad for no reason.”

“Right,” he very eloquently returned. Normally, I would have bullied him for giving such a simple response to such a complex question, but at that moment I was just grateful that I could continue. Heaven knows Spencer wouldn’t have let me.

“So, what if that happened to me? What if one day I wake up and finally find out the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself?”

When I turned to the man then, I saw a genuine confusion for the first time that night. I couldn’t tell you where I’d lost him, but it was clear that he heard something in me that alerted him that some deeper rooted issues were just now finding the light of day.

Of course, in this situation, it was really just a flickering fluorescent bulb.

“What question is that?” he whispered, like his voice would intrude in the thoughts.

But the truth was they didn’t feel like they belonged to me, either. That was the problem. I’d spent so long with memories that felt like a dream. I saw them playback when I closed my eyes, just to open them and find the same images reflecting in Spencer’s. I knew they were real because they were written into my skin, yet my mind rioted against them so hard that instead, I just started to think that this body wasn’t mine, either.

“How much of me died that day?”

The question sat with us, taking form in the reflection on the metallic surface that hummed a somehow somber tune. And even though I knew I was looking at myself, it didn’t feel that way. When I saw Hotch move in the background, I turned to him just in time to feel his hand resting over mine on the metal pail in my hands.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

I felt the warmth flow through him, bringing life back into a hand that suddenly started to feel like me again. His voice shared the same rejuvenating quality as he quietly but confidently answered, “I think… it’s much less than you think.”

As tears slid down my face, they felt less like the beginning of a downpour and more like the drizzle that follows the storm. I let them fall without wiping them away, hoping that as they fell away, they would take the fear with them.

After they did drip from my jaw, I laughed. I couldn’t hold it in because it seemed so silly how much lighter I felt after losing just a few droplets of saline. But, realistically, I knew it had more to do with his hand still holding mine.

I dropped my head to his shoulder, selfishly stealing his body warmth as I croaked, “Thanks for talking to me. I know I must sound like a stupid kid to you sometimes.”

“Not at all,” he said with that tone that was difficult to discount, “You sound just like you should.”

“Can I tell you something now?” I asked between sniffles.

“I’d like that,” he mirrored.

“You’re like… a really good dad.”

It was his turn to shed tears, then, which he did. They were much manlier and less silly than mine, but they were there. I almost accused him of creating them just to make me feel less embarrassed, but before I could, he’d enveloped me in a hug that was way too genuine to question it.

As I hugged him back, I realized just how badly I’d missed moments like this. I’d fooled myself into really believing that loneliness and independence were the same things for so long that when I was granted the support all human beings need, I didn’t know how to respond.

But that was the beauty of family, right? You don’t have to try to earn their love. They already thought you were worthy.

So I hugged him harder, ignoring the clanking of the machines and the sounds of crowds of people stumbling back from bars in the hall that could walk in any moment. I wasn’t embarrassed to be sad anymore. I was just a person. It happens sometimes.

“Speaking of, it’s well past your bedtime,” Hotch said finally, gracelessly shattering the moment in a very dad-like fashion.

“I walked into that one.”

Following that trend, he continued with a gentle bump of his shoulder against me, “If you don’t want to go yet, you can talk to me about that something more.”

I practically shoved him off me, huffing between chuckles and shaking my head in the hope that he wouldn’t notice how it flushed.

“Please. Spencer talks about that stuff, but he’s all talk.”

At first, Hotch just nodded. But after a few wayward glances, he confessed, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

That time the warmth I felt came from within, carried by butterflies that had burst in my stomach at the thought. I almost asked him what he meant, but then felt the familiar, creeping embarrassment that came along with loving someone a little too much.

“Yeah, right,” I scoffed.

I knew he was reading my expressions, but I couldn’t hide the smile, no matter how hard I tried. He still had the decency to ignore my blatant displays of excitement, instead asking the question we both knew the answer to already.

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I…” Such a simple syllable still seemed like too much, and I stuttered it a few more times before I landed on an answer that wasn’t too humiliating. “I guess he’ll have to ask and find out.”

“I hope it turns out well when he does,” he said, pausing to correct with a sarcastic, “Sorry. If he does.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sighed heavily. It was a last ditch effort to hide the way my cheeks were still stuck in a full-faced smile. I turned to see him with a very similar expression.

I knew just how to change that. When he stood up and offered me a hand, I took it and let him do half the work for me. But once we were on equal footing, I placed my hand on his shoulder with a complacent pat.

“You know, if it doesn’t turn out well, you’ll have to figure out how to comfort the both of us.”

“The horror,” he jokingly cringed with a shake of his head.

I almost left then, but thankfully he’d remembered the actual purpose for the room we’d had our impromptu surrogate-father-daughter moment in. He grabbed my ice pail from my hand and dropped it under the dispenser without saying anything else, letting the chaotic crunching signal the real end of the moment.

Once it was over, I looked down at the now freezing bucket in my hands that suddenly felt warm. Then I looked back up at him and saw a pride that I wasn’t expecting.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” I said as the last remaining bit of tension fell from my shoulders.

“Goodnight,” he answered, opening the door and watching as I padded down the hall. He waited until I slipped back into my room before his door clicked shut, and mine quickly followed.

That tiny sound was just enough to wake the man in the bed, and when I turned to him, the sight took my breath away. Because there was Spencer, the man I loved, reaching his arms out into the darkness and grabbing the empty air as he whined, begging me to come to him faster.

And I did. Tossing the bucket onto the table, I rushed over to him and threw myself into the bed beside him without any grace. With a similar restlessness, Spencer wound his arms around me as soon as I was within his reach, pulling me as close as he could without sacrificing all the air in my lungs.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against my hair.

“Don’t worry. I’m back,” I whispered back. The words were lost in his shirt, but he somehow heard them well enough to ask, “Where did you go?”

I didn’t know how exactly to describe what had happened, so I told one of those lies I’d contemplated earlier. “To get ice,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was just a very inefficient summary.

Spencer didn’t care, either. In fact, he giggled at the thought, nuzzling his face down into my neck and tickling me with his lips as he mumbled, “Let me warm you up.”

It did succeed in warming me up, but only because it turned into a fit of giggles and more intense tickling. His fingers danced along my sides and his whispers turned back to the same kisses that we’d started the night with.

But it couldn’t last forever. The poor guy still had only had a couple hours of sleep, and I felt the excitement wear off all at once, leaving him only half-awake on the pillow beside me. He still found the energy to look at me like there were stars in my eyes.

“Where did you really go?” he asked again, dragging his hand over my cheek like he could see the tears I’d shed just a few moments before.

“Just ice. I promise,” I answered, ending the thought with a quick kiss on his palm. When I could tell that he didn’t believe that, I brought my hands up to his face as I snickered, “See? Cold hands.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he just leaned forward, letting our noses touch and pulling me in to him again. His eyes fluttered shut, and I could almost see the way his body started to return to sleep as he barely muttered, “No cold feet, though?”

It took me a moment to register the words, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe them.

“Cold feet for what?” I whispered back.

Spencer’s answer only came in the form of a dreamy laugh. He didn’t open his eyes again, instead choosing to drop his face back into my shoulder just like he had before. This time there were even fewer kisses against my neck before he went still again.

Once again, I was left with my thoughts. Only this time they weren’t scary. Because marrying Spencer Reid was not the worst thing to imagine by far. In fact, there were very few things I’d ever wanted more.

—————————————————

| Part 23 |

[whenwordsmakesense]

Another first sentence + 5 sentence fic, "I hate it when you're being a martyr!!?"

Lol, next time just send me a sentence. I don't think I'll ever be doing "only" +5 sentences xD

Okay, okay, so this isn't from my *THE* time-travel fic, but the thing is... I just love the idea of a bamf!sterek that go back in time and don't tell anyone about the truth and then comes this CONFRONTATION and everyone else is confused/in awe.

Quick rundown of dynamics, just because: Alpha Talia Hale. Human/Alpha Mate Nathaniel Hale. Betas Peter Hale, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Claudia Stilinski. Human Noah John Stilinski. Alpha Derek Hale (but he presents as a beta to everyone except Stiles). Human Stiles Stilinski (but he is actually a spark, the strongest there is).

Idk their ages, but you can imagine Stiles as a 15/16 year old teen (he's mentally older, of course, think like... hmm... let's say he came back in time at age 21. So he should be 30, mentally). That makes Derek 21/22 (mentally 36).

Okay, enough rambling, now let's get down to the fic!! I'll be writing this from Laura's POV. Also, tell me if I should post this one on AO3? Now it's on AO3!

The Moon's Come Out

"I hate it when you're being a martyr."

Stiles' voice is a soft whisper underneath the chaos of blood and death, but it's not quite enough to drown under. It's a resigned exhale of breath, a truth so absolute that it's no longer just a truth. It's a fact.

Laura Hale wonders when her baby brother aligned himself to such a fact. She wonders lots of things about her baby brother.

She remembers the day when it all changed. When Derek changed. It was subtle, but it was prominent.

She remembers when she'd helped Derek with his flirting skills. Paige, she remembers; the same Paige who had once held Derek's eyes had been rendered into nothing that day. No, not nothing—something else. Something deeper. Something like grief.

But why would Derek grieve someone living? It's a mystery, but more than that it's an act shared between Derek and Stiles—like they're barely tethered to the world, and every moment with anyone but each other is like a gift and a curse, all in one.

But this isn't the time to think about it, how it feels like she's lost Derek once.

It's time to save him.

"Mom," her voice is a barely there sound, but her mom, her Alpha, she's here.

And she's silently crying.

"Mom, we need to- need to help him,"

Her mom is nodding her head, and they're moving between the bloody bodies—hunters, who'd come to kill them, only to die by Stiles'... everything.

Laura feels she can save him.

"Stop." Stiles' voice is still a whisper, but it's an order. A command.

Her mom—Alpha Talia Hale—stops in her tracks, and Laura, with her injured leg has to stop with her.

Dad is shouting at Cora to stay back, and John is trying to free Claudia and Peter from their confines, and Laura can hear all that. But right now, her world boils to where Derek is. On the ground, only a few feet away but so, so far away, spitting blood out of his mouth as his healing tries to kick in where the bullets are lodged on his body.

Bullets. Because Derek had jumped in front of the hunters when they started shooting at Peter and Claudia. And they're all wolfsbane laced.

Laura opens her mouth to protest, to shout, but Stiles doesn't let her.

He's always stopped her from talking.

She hates Stiles.

He's taken Derek away from her. From the pack.

"I can deal with this, you don't have to worry,"

"You can't order me around." Laura's eyes flash at her Alpha's tone, and she bares her neck.

Stiles' jaw sets with a determined look. "Oh, yeah? You really think so, Talia?" Laura watches him as he speaks, words fast paced and laced with worry and fear and anger. It's an ensemble of emotions, but even Laura has to admit that there's always been something special about this kid. His hands work as he talks.

"I mean, maybe you do. You Hales always think you know the best, don't you? It's like you think nobody else has any brains but you. Well, except Peter. That fucker is just too clever for his own good and he knows it. But he at least knows not to underestimate others. That's more than I can say for you, Talia. Or Laura. You two are so similar, you know?"

Laura does. She does know. And she is proud of that fact. But Stiles says it like a curse, like being so similar to her own mother—her Alpha—is nothing short of the worst thing.

Laura wonders why. She wonders a lot when it comes to Stiles.

"Stiles," everyone stops at that voice, as if freezing in place would freeze time itself.

Laura has been tortured, she's seen more blood than she needs to today, and she'd cried herself hoarse when they'd started to torture her previously unconscious mom. And then she'd wanted to die when the hunters turned their guns toward Cora, Claudia and Peter. So much so that she'd barely noticed Derek somehow escaping from his own personal confinement, the shackles he was in, all of it covered in wolfsbane. Neither had she witnessed Stiles breaking the literal cage the humans of their pack had been put in. But the thing that truly, truly scares her isn't any of those things. No.

It's losing Derek. Her baby brother (he used to hate it when she called him that, but when he changed, that hate turned into a grieving sort of fondness, like this was something he'd missed), who feels more like an adult than she is, her Derek. She can't lose him. She just can't.

It would break her. It would break the pack. Derek has always been the heart of it, the sweet little kid who is adored by his sisters and trusted by his parents; the man who even Peter respects, and Claudia cherishes like her own son, and John who calls him a good man.

It's no surprise they all just stop when Derek speaks for the first time since he was shot. And oh, was it only minutes ago? It feels like hours.

"Finally coherent, huh?" Stiles asks Derek, like Derek speaking right now is no big deal. Like it's that easy to try and repel the poison of wolfsbane.

"Shut up," Derek coughs out, voice throaty and weak.

"Derek," someone calls out. It's choked with tears, and it's a female, and it's her voice. "Derek! Please don't die,"

Derek tries to move his head, but falls back on the ground with a thump. Stiles swats at him, and Laura only now notices that Stiles' hands are covered in blood, one anchored on Derek's chest while the other digs around one of the holes. There's a host of bullets lying on the other side; Stiles throws another bullet there.

Perhaps everyone notices the same thing just then, because everyone makes a noise, a wail of pain and disgust and fear, all of it mixed in one sound.

Her mom has lost all her fight in herself, and Laura deflates, too. Stiles seems to know what he's doing.

And he doesn't seem to care what he sounds like.

"No, shut up? Me? Shut up? I swear to the fucking moon, you asshole, if you die on me I'll follow you. I'll fucking follow you there, because nothing is left for me here, okay, and I know you know that. You know this. How could you even do this to me? I told you to wait for my signal! I never would have let them get hurt, Derek! No, no, shut up! You keep your words to yourself and you listen, you goddamn martyr, you listen.

You made me a promise. When we came back, you promised me we'd be together. Always. We'll fix things, then we'll live, and then we'll die. Together. But you-you broke that promise, Der. You did tha-that,"

Laura is missing something. They all are.

Stiles' voice is a steady stream, a flow broken only by the cracks in his voice and the anger in it. And then it's a whisper, the height of his voice toppled down by his sorrow.

Derek smiles softly, as if Stiles worrying himself to death about him is not a new thing. Like Derek almost dies on a constant basis, and this is a routine they have—Stiles worries, Stiles shouts, and then Derek smiles because he's still here. He isn't gone yet.

Laura watches as Derek puts his weight on his elbows, brings his face close to Stiles'. Nobody interrupts them, still frozen in time, still processing what they just went through. Stiles shuts his eyes.

"I am here. I am here, Stiles," Derek tells Stiles, and Stiles takes a shaky breath, and it hangs there, that breath—the worry, the anger, the pain, everything—between them, before Derek lunges forward and presses his lips against Stiles'.

There are a few sharp breaths, and a hysterical giggle from Claudia. "I told you," she says, and Laura thinks she's saying it to John.

Laura isn't exactly surprised. She's caught them kissing multiple times, and she's always wanted to tattle on them. And she would have, because this is wrong—Stiles is a teenager and Derek is an adult—but Stiles is clever and somehow always a few steps ahead of her. He knows all of her secrets, and she'd rather he didn't but that's not the life she has. No, the life she has is—

—clearer in hindsight. She thinks back on those kisses, shared in the early mornings or late nights, between whispered words that Laura couldn't make out and with a desperation that went beyond the desperation of wanting a good time.

And she looks now, looks at the way Stiles' breaths are shaky and labored, but his hands are steady, even as he brings flames appear out of nowhere and presses it against Derek's bullet wounds. She looks at the way Derek has his forehead pressed against Stiles', and how he moves his head to Stiles' neck at the precise moments that the fire touches his skin. Like he's done this before, knows how to keep his pain between him and Stiles. She looks at the way Stiles' other hand, still bloody, tangles in Derek's hair, comforts him, like he's the only comfort Derek needs in this world.

She looks at the way Derek's body heals, like even his body is used to being hurt like this.

"It all makes sense," Peter's voice brings her out of her thoughts, and she turns to look at him. He's vibrating with excitement. "The way they talk—the way they behave—it all makes sense!"

Laura doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to know how this much blood and death and crying and confusion could ever make sense.

But if knowing is the answer to ease the burden on Stiles' and Derek's shoulders, she'll take it. She will know.