#we think it's better having the full experience in one post

[olderthannetfic]

I am wondering what happened to the "body swap/imposter" episodes that used to be common in various live action TV¹ series.

I posed this question the other day on my own blog, but I don't think people who follow me are very interested in the topic, so I am asking OTNF & commenters, where I suspect a greater number of repliers will be able to answer. :')

You used to get this convention coming up in stuff like Star Trek (mirror universe Spock!) and Xena (is that Xena? Callisto? Autolycus? Some random princess who happens to be identical?) and Buffy (nooo, that's not Buffy, that's Faith!) sometimes. Do you know the convention I mean? I think Supernatural is a later example that executed this via angel possession, but it didn't have the same impact because it was such a huge plot point. (My viewing of SPN was also spotty, so, IDK, I may have missed one.)

Is this a story convention that's still in use? Perhaps it's just that I haven't seen it for years because of my own viewing choices? Or is this a convention we're no longer seeing as much of because of shorter series formats with less filler and/or better developed CGI making different conventions more popular? I know everyone is obviously only going to be able to answer from their own viewing experiences, but I think if there's a general trend in replies it will nevertheless provide me with an answer.

TLDR: Does the "body swap/imposter" episode still exist in the 2020s? If so, where have you spotted it?

--

¹ It does also occur in cartoons, etc., but that's not really what I wanted to ask about.

--

I wonder if it might have been a semi-casualty of the post-Sopranos TV landscape.

What I mean is that people are still super into things where one brilliant actor plays a bunch of clones, but the kind of hammy acting that was everywhere on direct-to-syndication of the 90s just won't cut it today, and the bodyswap episode really shows you which actors can handle this task and which cannot.

I heard Haven had a bodyswap episode after I'd stopped watching. Grimm had someone morphing into a person's partner to get them to fuck them unawares. Those were both a while ago by now. Guardian had a personality transplant episode that hit some of the same notes in terms of why the audience finds these entertaining. Good Omens had the characters swap, though it was played a bit differently from the bajillion times on Xena. (Don't forget the random tavern wench in addition to the princess!)

Oh! I've got one! Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty had a major impostor. The villains find some random dude who looks like one of the leads and groom him to replace the guy. We get that dude torturing another lead while in character, the real guy impersonating the impostor to dramatic and hilarious effect, the real guy keeping the impostor in a dungeon for half the series and then a bunch of identity shenanigans right at the end.

It's Chinese, obviously. That one's historical, but wuxia series have a standard trope of somebody who can look exactly like others by either murdering them and literally wearing their face or by making a flesh mask... actually, not just wuxia. This shows up a bunch in DMBJ. It's the full on Mission Impossible "Ah hah hah, it is actually I, face changing man!" with the second actor pulling off a ridiculous rubber mask that could never pass as anyone after cutting from the first actor. I guess that and the bone shrinking technique to change build are just common tropes there.

Has any of the live action Marvel stuff gotten around to skrulls? That's the kind of context where I'd expect to see an impostor episode.

I can't think of a lot of recent and directly similar things in Western live action, but I also haven't been watching enough sff shows or any crime stuff with the right ridiculous tone.

Anyone have thoughts?

[seungsoftly]

asking you out while in college ― enha maknae line

୨୧ genre: drabble/fluff ୨୧ wc: 2.58k ୨୧ contains mentions of financial situations

livi's note ♡ haha sorry about taking so long to finally post part two of this drabble guys, my other ideas that i had brewing clearly wanted to be seen first! this will be formatted like the first part, but i have since discovered that prefer the look of my fics in the small text, so both parts of this drabble will be my only works in the regular, larger text. also, i can't believe how close i am to reaching 100 followers! thank you guys so much for your support, and i think we can get there by the end of the month! (okay i'll stop yapping, let's get to the fic now)

୨୧ taglist: @simjaexy

→ kim sunoo

like most other college students you knew (except for the few that you’d heard about that were here fully from their daddy’s money), you didn’t have much money to spare when you wanted to do nice things for yourself that you didn’t technically need. but you were also similar in the fact that you still wanted to go get your nails done and look all pretty.

in all fairness, it was something that you’d bribed yourself to study for midterms with, that if you got over an eighty percent on all of your exams you’d get your nails done to make you happy and satisfy the girl that laid deep within you.

the rational part of you had hoped that you’d just barely miss the mark, not disheartening you, but keeping you from wasting money on your nails of all things. that mindset was thoroughly upset when you opened your college portal to check said exam grades and clapped your hands together in delight, having passed all of them with flying colors.

all that studying like those aesthetic girls that you watched on youtube to make you want to study really did work, you thought to yourself as you scrolled through your pinterest, which was full of pictures of – yet again – aesthetic girls. except this time it wasn’t their notebooks and pens and highlighters you were looking at, it was their nails.

you spend at least an hour just scrolling through pictures, wanting to find a couple of perfect-looking sets of nails that you could save for your nail appointment.

but the one thing about getting your nails done was that you had no choice but to lean towards more simple styles. you were on a college girl budget, and that meant that you had just enough money to spare to go to the cosmetology school at your college to get your nails done. this wasn’t something that you were able to afford to see a professional for, at least just yet.

eventually you found a few designs that you thought were doable, some simple almond-shaped french tips with a little bit of shimmer rubbed onto them. you saved those pictures on your phone to show whatever student you got to do your nails, and moved on with life for now, the next open time slot for cheap beauty services saved in your phone as tomorrow.

time passed rather quickly, and soon you ended up on your way to the cosmetology building, the walk only about five minutes from your dorm. it was simple and clean, and you were grateful for that. things looked much better when they were actually kept up on campus.

there were already a few other students there, milling around as they waited for an available cosmetology student to help them with their service of choice. it felt oddly cozy for a space full of salon chairs and white tables, and that calmed the few nerves buzzing alight in your stomach at the new experience.

sunoo’s first glimpse of you made him automatically want to be the one to help you with whatever you were here for. he couldn’t really explain the full reason as to why, but you just had a vibe to you that really drew him in. you didn’t seem to be occupied, so he just walked straight up to you.

“hi there, i’m sunoo! what are you here for?”

you were startled a bit when he first walked up to you, but that bright smile of his quickly melted through the shock.

“oh, uh hi there. my name’s y/n, and i’m here for the nails service.”

“perfect!” he exclaimed, “that’s my specialty! just follow me to my table and we can start talking about what you want done with them!”

sunoo just seemed like such a sweet person to you from the beginning. it was so easy to talk to him, and he was also incredibly talented at doing your nails. they looked exactly like the picture that you’d show him when he was done, and you got a whole gossip session about what was going on around campus while he did them too.

so you kept finding ways to come back. using up all of your pens and highlighters before buying new ones that you kept seeing in videos, finding a way around needing to have a coffee from the nice cafe on campus  every day, just to save up that extra bit of money that it cost to see the bubbly man again and get to talk with him.

he was pleased that you kept coming back too. sunoo had never absolutely loved doing a session with anyone before you. yes, he did love doing things like that, it was the exact reason he was here right now in cosmetology school, but he always loved the nails more than the person that they were on.

with you, he loved everything. getting to chat while he worked hard at painting and filing and buffing down your nails, learning all the new gossip from your department while he shared about his. and most especially the compliments that you gave him and his work when he finished.

it was around the fourth time that you’d come in that he grew bold enough to think of saying something after he finished up your nails.

“you know, i’ve really looked forward to each time you’ve come back y/n,” he smiled. “but i would also really love it if i got to see that pretty face of yours outside of me making your nails pretty for you.”

you clutched said pretty nails to your chest, face beaming as you responded. “well i’d be honored to actually be able to look you in the eyes when we spend time together now instead of looking at the top of your head.”

the two of you delved into giggles at that, exchanging phone numbers before you got up and waved at him as you exited the building, happy with your nails and the new number in your phone.

→ yang jungwon

you’d always been involved in student government from the moment that you could have. that last year of elementary school when they suddenly announced elections, you already had posters made for your bid for president. in middle school you always headed the meetings, talking in front of all the other members, even those who were in grades higher than yours. same in high school.

it was just something that felt right to you, and something that people began to know you by. you became the girl that was always there, always doing something to help the school and put more text on her college applications. it didn’t hurt to have a good reputation and even better activities in your opinion.

but when you got to college, you weren’t in charge of it all anymore. you weren’t mad. in fact, you almost felt relieved about it. you no longer had to hold the weight of the whole student council on your shoulders. now, you just helped to support it.

but at the same time, you felt bad for jungwon, who was the person that had taken over your role of having everyone rely on you. the boy was so nice in the little conversation that you’d had with him, but he also seemed insanely busy and focused and motivated. not many people could be like that and survive for more than a few weeks without burning out.

he seemed to always be in the office, working on things for the school every waking minute. and somehow he still seemed to get perfect grades and even chat with his group of friends. it was crazy to just think of. in a way, jungwon’s drive was your motivation to keep pushing through your own classes and workload, even when you got tired of it or didn’t understand.

to jungwon, you seemed like the most amazing person in the world. you were the only person that actually did their job on the council and you even kept offering to help him with his own work. god, if only he could clone you and have you be the entire rest of the council. his life would be so much easier.

the thought of asking you out didn’t even cross his mind until one late night when it was just you and him organizing papers for the university staff to pass out in the following week, every other member having ditched the two of you already on some lame excuses that they had plans or had to study for a test or go to sleep so they could be well-prepared for their tests tomorrow. jungwon knew better than not to see past these excuses, but they weren’t really doing anything to help while they were there, so why not let them scamper off, thinking that they’d actually convinced him that they had other places to be that were important.

you and him would often talk to each other on nights like these, trash talking the others and laughing at the other’s imitation of one of their excuses and how they’d scurry out the door afterwards. before tonight, he’d never seen you as more than a friend, someone that understood him on a friendly level, someone that related to him just a little bit, but not too much.

but seeing your smile as he cracked another joke about the people that had strangely landed positions on the council alongside you two, and hearing that joyous laughter that he’d pulled out of your mouth made jungwon want to be around you more, want to get to know you better.

he wanted to go eat dinner with you, sitting across from you at some fancy restaurant as you talked about your day and chatted with him outside of this council building. he wanted you to call him those fuzzy nicknames that made him tease his friends when they were called that by their own girlfriends.

“hey y/n,” he quietly mumbled to you, clearly acting shy about something all of a sudden. you paused counting the papers you were holding, turning to make eye contact with him, which made him realize that he was going to have quell the nerves that just started buzzing in his body and just say what he wanted to say to you. “i haven’t really come to the thought of it until now, but i really want to know you outside of this building. and if you’re okay with that, i want to ask you to dinner tomorrow night.”

all of his worries were even further abated when you smiled, face glowing and a cheerful expression on your face.

“oh absolutely jungwon! i’m looking forward to dinner and getting to know you more as well!”

→ nishimura riki

all you’ve heard over the last couple of days was that nishimura riki was a dance prodigy and someone that was like no other from his generation. it honestly made him sound like someone who loved hearing about himself and bragging that he was better than everyone else.

or at least that’s what you were pretty sure of considering how that was exactly how all the other star athletes and students on campus acted. they barely answered any of the questions that you had spend good time on putting together, instead promoting only themselves and not helping people understand more about what had gotten them to where they were now.

that’s why you had such a love-hate relationship with the job that you were working on campus. it was an engaging job, which gave it that edge to working as a tour guide or in the bookshop, but it required you to also work with some of the most egotistical people that you’d ever met in your entire life.

currently, you were walking over to the dance studio that ni-ki and the dance team held their practices at, pacing yourself at that speed of walking that you only saved for when your emotions needed a bit of an outlet but you didn’t have a very large time frame to let them out. this would suffice until after you got done interviewing him.

you could hear the music booming through the door when you arrived, entering the small building quickly and already spotting the man you were here to interview.

he was almost flowing along with the music that was blasting from the speakers in the studio, body moving in sharp lines and smooth patterns. as much as your mind hated the idea of complimenting someone like him, you’d never seen someone so in their element before.

sure, the others that you’d interviewed were talented at their respective sports, skills impressing you, but never entrancing you like ni-ki just had as he moved to the music.

god, you had to snap out of this and stay professional, you thought, mentally slapping yourself on the wrist for getting distracted.

once the music came to a stop, ni-ki clapped all the boys practicing alongside him on the back, exchanging those confident chuckles as they all gathered their things and headed out of the studio in waves, completely passing you by.

“you must be y/n,” ni-ki walked up to you, voice quieting from the loud tone that it had been only a moment ago. “here to interview me for the school paper, right?”

“yep!” you gave him the typical blunt response that you gave every other person you’d interviewed before him, hoping that he’d just go along and answer the questions that you had lined up and make it easy and quick for the both of you.

“from what i’ve heard about you,” he whispered, “you’ve definitely got a whole list of questions for me typed up. but i think it’d be a lot more interesting to see some action from you instead of just some questions.”

you were confused. what exactly did he mean by that?

“i can hear the gears turning in your head, y/n. i mean that i’m going to teach you a little something, and then you can write about that for your little article,” his voice lilted playfully. “i promise it’ll be fun.”

“alright, fine,” you grumbled, just wanting to get this over with.

but as the music played and ni-ki guided you and your body in a way that you’d never truly moved before, you weren’t so sure that you wanted to leave so soon anymore.

ni-ki had turned out to be a real gentleman, asking you every time he had to touch you to make a little correction and complimenting you with every move that you got down. you really were enjoying this now.

meanwhile, a huge weight had been lifted off ni-ki’s shoulders. he’d always had to keep up the nonchalant attitude that he’d somehow got placed with, but now he had someone that knew him for something other than acting like he was all cool and didn’t care much about things.

this was the first time in a while that he’d felt like he could go all out in the dance studio, having loads of fun teaching you a little something. and since this was so meaningful to him, he wasn’t going to just let it end now.

“you’know, this has been really fun for me, y/n. how about another lesson sometime?”and of course you just had to say yes. you needed to keep learning that dance after all. (wink, wink)

divider credits to @uzmacchiato

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[pomegranate-fawn]

Weekly update: Mundanity

I was fighting demons this week, creatively, emotionally, physically. I think there’s this idea what we always have to be our perfect, best selves. And when we fail at that idea, it’s something we should be ashamed of. We have to be palatable or else no one will like us and if no one likes us, are we even worth anything?

My whole life I’ve worked in curating the persona of a soft, quiet, sweet girl. And that’s not to say that I’m not those things, but it feels like more of a performance than my reality. I’m quiet, but not a comfortable quiet, I’m soft but only because I fear being deemed strong, I’m sweet because I’m scared to be called a bitch instead.

As I’ve grown older I’ve started getting rid of those traits and trying to figure out who I truly am. Most days my core personality trait is tired. I try to be full of life and happiness but it’s such a chore. I’m told that I used to be vibrant and fun…but it was never that. I think I was just better at performing. Most days I wake up and sob cause I don’t want to leave the comfort of my bed. It’s like a hug from your mother, you fear if you leave it, it will be the last time you experience that warmth.

I’m tired…but I still make it out of bed. Most days I even brush my teeth twice and walk over 8k steps! But these things don’t bring me joy, I’m still tired. I want to focus on joy, on the mundane, but my sadness thrives within this setting. But I’m also too scared to leave the house, change my view, so what now? Do I just rot? Do I just give up? Or do I try to thrive within the mundane?

I always pick the latter. I want to live, I know that I’ll always have this sadness sewn into my skin, but I want to live. Even if that means living with weakness, even if it means learning to accept my not so good traits. I want to live more over I want to find acceptance. Not from anyone, but from myself. God may never forgive me but I want to forgive myself. I once tried to write about thriving within the mundanity for a college essay but the professor was so insane that I gave up the topic.

This professor genuinely wrote a musical that was like the “parody” musical “Slam Frank”. But unlike the people behind that dumpster fire he was being legit when he wrote his monstrosity. That musical was so, so bad that it made my previously homophobic mother fully embrace me and accept my identity as lesbian. That night was probably the closest she came to having a revelation, I hope I experience a revelation soon.

I know there is no cure for my sadness, but maybe if I write enough, I can find my peace. I’m officially 56k into my original story, Dear Nightingale. It’s inspired by my love (and hatred) for Black Butler, the Victorian era, The House in Fata Morgana, Alice in Wonderland and Alice through the looking glass (the original books and the 1972 and 1988 live action adaptations), The Girl From The Other Side, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Madoka Magica. Yeah…Lots of inspirations! Some are far more surface level and others aren’t. I started writing thanks to the encouragement of my gf…I would have never written this much if she wasn’t in my life. And thus, my first offering of this post…the prologue. It is NOT proofread so I’m sorry if it’s lowkey incomprehensible but I hope you like it…this is me being brave and sharing more of my art…eeeks…

Okay moving on from that…I don’t know what pushed me to be so vulnerable this post. I guess for me, it’s easier to write my feelings instead of speaking them. Writing is all I’ve ever felt good at, though I’m trying to be kinder to myself. My grandpa brought forth my passion for writing and he would probably want me to find more in life than writing…or maybe not, he was SUPER passionate about it. Anyways, I think I’m good at other things, but writing is something I’ve always clung to. But so has reading, I guess they were my first escape from this world. And it’s hard to not try to escape such a stressful world.

Something else I’ve clung to is my craft. After rejecting Christianity after half a lifetime of being incredibly religious, I felt lost. My mom got me into witchcraft not long after which honestly looking back could’ve easily gone wrong fast. Since I tend to be obsessive when it comes to religious beliefs. But honestly? It’s very chill for me. It’s part of my life but often takes a backseat. I worship the earth itself and all creatures on it…except ants I fucking hate ants I’m sorry Gaia. I really love cats and ravens and crows, I don’t really believe in patron saints or familiars but I try to befriend as many animals as I can. In the photo are two of the ravens I feed and talk to. I talk to animals, no, I do not think they can talk back. But talking to them makes me happy. One of them is a raven I nicknamed broken beak, I was really into Xenoblade when I gave him that name and he has a thick crack on his beak but he is healthy! Do not fear!

Teatime is something I always do, as you may know by now. This is my favorite mug, I had one of these mugs since my junior year of high school. It’s by Mudworks on Etsy, I know people are scared to buy on Etsy cause of people lying about their products but this is genuinely an authentic mug and handmade. It’s beautiful and so cute! My gf is writing her own story, Grand Thesis. Genuinely I believe she is one of the best writers to exist, and that is not an exaggeration. Her work is detailed but not to the point where it can become repetitive, her characters are lively while still being grounded, and her pacing is excellent. I made an oc that she ended up making canon to her story, his name is Faraji and you can find him on this post of hers! I bring him up cause he owns a coffee shop in the story and she added my favorite mug to her story in his coffee shop…it made me emotional. Its the little things, noticing ones favorite mug or remembering their order at a restaurant, it’s small gestures that show how dearly one can love you.

My love came over on Saturday and we played some more Sweet Pool, when I tried to screenshot the game it nearly crashed on me? I don’t know if it was something on my end or if it just…does that! Could be either. But I’m hoping to play more with her soon, I really love how it’s written and I have such a soft spot for Zenya he’s so eppy to me. I guess…if I’m being honest, I see him so far as someone with untreated bd, like myself, and that’s both a good and bad thing. Sometimes the ugly parts of yourself need to be shown to you before they can be changed or worked on. Sometimes just seeing someone else mirror your behavior even in fiction can be eye opening. But I feel bad for Zenya more than anything else, I could have easily turned out as mentally unwell had my mother not decided that I was hurting being in religion.

Ironically, the reason I’m not a fan of Mizuno or rather, Kirihara, is for the exact same reason I like Zenya. Kirihara is FAR more accurate to a portrayal of bd and the reality of forcing yourself to be something that you’re not, and I hate it. It’s hard to stare at a character that has so many flaws and then go “oh that’s lowkey me…” like I just wish that I could avoid my anger as easily as Mizuno. But I’m trying to work on myself, I go to therapy and I am overall kind. Idk, I’m just rambling but I hope it’s interesting at least. I plan to make a more in-depth post about Kirihara and bd so I’ll expand my thoughts there. Let’s move onto music.

I’m really gonna try to stop listening to Ethel Cain for a bit. I love Perverts and Preachers Daughter and Ethel Cain’s music so fucking much but I won’t lie…it is probably adding to my sadness. This is not me blaming Ethel Cain but rather me trying to accept that I cannot consume anything whenever I want, I have to be intentional or else I could end up harming myself or falling into a state of depression. With that being said, I WILL listen to Perverts one last time before shelving it for a while.

I think I highlighted an fmab song last week…so this week I can glaze 2003’s ost. Which is just as good. Honestly, while I love both versions of fma…I think 2003 has stuck with me more. Which is funny cause on my yearly rewatch I tend to watch brotherhood and not 03 but I genuinely get so emotional over 2003. It was my first big anime and the story is so beautiful, while themes intersect with ones present in Brotherhood, I feel like 2003 is a lot more about rebirth and taking the good with the bad more than brotherhood is. And I think it feels more realistic in its portrayals of humanity it’s so good. This is one of the first songs in the ost, and it’s so melancholiac and yet hopeful.

Lastly we have our video recommendation, which is Nikki Carreon’s second part to her Shane Dawson video series. I was never a fan of him and though I had friends that were, most of the time when I was shown his videos it was his conspiracy theory stuff so I just thought he was a weird but overall harmless clickbait YouTube but then obviously 2020 happened along with D’Angelo Wallace’s video on him and I was disgusted that such a man ever became famous. Nikki’s videos on him are even more in-depth than what D’Angelo went into plus I really love Nikki’s videos. I’d recommend watching part one before part two but I’m linking part two since it’s the one I watched this week (I watched the first part when it came out!)

[selves-indulgent-coining]

introducing a new genderfluid root!

[pt: introducing a new genderfluid root! end pt]

Meet the genderwallis root! It's named after Spathiphyllum wallisii, which is also called the “peace lily”. We picked this name between because genderwallis combines the concepts of genderfrith (frith means peace) and genderflor (flor means flower). However, genderwallis does not include neutral (niaspec and nin) genders. It's kinda its own thing.

As per the name of this blog, we made this for ourselves, but anyone may create and use terms and flags under the genderwallis root.

[alt text: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: light-ish purple, pink, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light teal, bright light-ish indigo end alt text]

genderwallis: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral (niaspec) , and neutral-aligned (nin) genders

the flag was made by combining Admin Kyle's genderflor flag with kalliepride's genderfrith flag

[alt text for left flag: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: muted purple, muted pink, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light blue, bright light purple end alt text]

[alt text: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: bright red-ish orange, muted yellow-orange, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light pink, blue-ish purple end alt text]

genderwalliser or genderfaerwal: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral, neutral-aligned, and binary man

these flags were made by combining Admin Kyle's genderflor flag with this genderfrither flag (left flag) or pantasticenby's genderfaer and genderfaunet flags (right flag) (the yellows from genderfaunet replaced the greens from genderfaer because green is associated with neutrality)

[alt text for left flag: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: bright blue-ish purple, bright lavender, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, aqua, dark-ish blue end alt text]

[alt text for right flag: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: bright red-ish orange, muted yellow-orange, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light teal, bright light-ish indigo end alt text]

genderwalliset or genderfaunetwal: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral, neutral-aligned, and binary woman

these flags were made by combining Admin Kyle's genderflor flag with this genderfrither flag (left flag) or pantasticenby's genderfaunet flag (right flag)

[alt text: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: bright blue-ish purple, bright lavender, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light blue, bright light purple end alt text]

genderwallisen or genderflorenwal: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral, neutral-aligned, binary woman, and binary man

this flag was made by combining Admin Kyle's genderflor flag with this genderfrithen flag

[alt text: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: light orange, light yellow, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light lilac, light-ish purple end alt text]

genderwallisae or genderfaewal: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral, neutral-aligned, male/man, and masculine genders

this flag was made by combining Admin Kyle's genderflor flag with Pride-Flags' and superpopcorn101's genderfae flag

[alt text: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: light orange, light yellow, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light teal, bright light-ish indigo end alt text]

genderwallisaun or genderfaunwal: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral, neutral-aligned, female/woman, and feminine genders

this flag was made by combining Admin Kyle's genderflor flag with this genderfaun flag

[alt text: a rectangular flag with 7 equal,horizontal stripes; colors top to bottom: light orange, light yellow, pastel yellow, white, pastel yellow, light yellow, light orange]

genderwallisor or genderflorwal: a genderfluid term where one is fluid between anything except neutrois, neutral, neutral-aligned, female/woman, feminine, male/man, and masculine genders genders

this flag is inspired by Admin Kyle's genderflor flag. we replaced the greens with the yellows (taken from the bottom part of the flag) because green is associated with neutrality

[mariemariemaria]

Does anybody else feel the waves of history crashing over them constantly and like they can't escape the generational trauma that permeates and poisons every interaction they have or do I just need to chill and have a drink lol

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

“So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”

[merrinla]

More finds in the cut content. What's interesting is that this is post-game content. I don't know if these are pieces of DLC or an extended epilogue. Rook and Lucanis drink wine in a gondola. In one version, Lucanis refused to be First Talon and left the crows. The Viper arrives to Treviso to hire Lucanis to kill the local Venatori. The lines in the localization file are out of order. I've organized them as best I could, but I'm not sure if everything is correct.

The gondola scene

Rook: What are we celebrating? Revenge? Saving the world? Lucanis: How about a quiet moment? Rook: Is it quiet? Really? Lucanis: If it's not quiet, it's at least clear.

Option: If only the Antaam were gone. Rook: Treviso's beautiful. Too bad it's filled with Antaam.

Option: You're surprisingly romantic. Rook: Who knew you were a romantic? Lucanis: You bring it out in me. Rook: Yeah, yeah. I'm a bad influence.

Option: Let's not go back. Rook: Let's stay here forever. Lucanis: A little. Not forever.

Rook: What? No fancy glasses? Lucanis: That's Caterina's style. I'm more pragmatic. Lucanis: Well, more pragmatic than her anyway.

Option: Learn from your elders. Rook: There's nothing wrong with a bit of class. Lucanis: (Chuckles) I'll remember for next time. Rook: Oh yes. This is so pragmatic. Lucanis: I know.

Option: Casual's better. Rook: Less clean up. Rook: That's why we're having drinks in a gondola instead of the kitchen. Lucanis: Knew you'd understand.

Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize our home... (Crow Origin) Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize Antiva... Rook: Does it feel wrong?

(apparently Rook moved, causing the boat to rock.) Lucanis: Careful. Gondolas are more fashionable than they are stable. Rook: They're plenty sturdy. Rook: See. Nothing to— Rook: Oops? Lucanis: You were saying? Rook: Sorry. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Classic Rook. Rook: Classic Rook, he'll/she'll/tehey'll never change. Rook: I've made things awkward. Lucanis: I like this side of you. Lucanis: More wine? Rook: I saved the wine? Lucanis: (Laughs)

(Talon's version) Rook: How are you settling in as First Talon? Lucanis: There was some initial... friction with Caterina, but she got over it. Lucanis: She thought I'd do things her way and was surprised when I had my own ideas. Rook: Really? You'd think she'd be the most welcoming. Lucanis: No.

Rook: Have you spoken to Caterina or the others? Lucanis: Letters here and there. We haven't met since the party. Lucanis: I don't want to cut ties. Lucanis: But Caterina needs to get used to the fact that I'm no longer her heir. Rook: Are you used to it? Lucanis: I was never comfortable with the role to begin with. Rook: So, no regrets? Lucanis: (Sigh) Rook: It's a yes or no question, Lucanis. Lucanis: It's not. You've enough experience with regret to know that.

Rook: I respect your decision to walk away. Lucanis: It wasn't an easy decision. Lucanis: It was hard. Walking away. Rook: It was hard watching it. Lucanis: Let's not talk about me.

Rook: It's not an interrogation if you care. Lucanis: Why not? I've been thoroughly interrogated. Rook: (Snorts) Is that how it works?

Option: Your priorities have changed. Rook: You've changed your tune. Lucanis: I am. On what's important.

Lucanis: Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom.

Option: Consider it paid in full. Rook: That debt was paid when you helped us defeat the elven gods. Lucanis: No. That was a job. What you've done for me...

Option: I needed a mage killer. Rook: I had selfish reasons. Lucanis: Rook. I'm serious. Lucanis: Whatever your reasons...

Lucanis: The Venatori killed the man I was. Lucanis: You put the fight—the life—back into me. Rook: I... Thanks.

Lucanis: If you need someone taken care of... Just say the word. Lucanis: Your enemies are House Dellamorte's enemies. (Talon's line) Lucanis: Your enemies are my enemies.

Option: You make murder sound sweet. Rook: Awww. That's sweet. And scary. Lucanis: Of course those are the same thing to you. Rook: I was only teasing. Lucanis: How am I supposed to argue when you say things like that?

Option: I'll settle for friendship. Rook: Or we could just be friends? No killing required. Rook: I still care about you—as a friend. Lucanis: Didn't want you to get the wrong idea... Lucanis: We're still friends. Lucanis: If that's what you want... Rook: Appreciate it.

(non romance/friendship version?) Rook: Oh, I'm aware. Just haven't figured out what I want in return. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Lucanis: For a price. Rook: And you'll charge me... Lucanis: Like I said—a fair rate. (Talon's line) Lucanis: I'm not a Crow anymore. Rates are negotiable. Rook: Still sounds pretty Crow-y to me.

Rook: It's passed sundown. Lucanis: (Sighs) Rook: Time to go? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Lucanis: Don't worry. I'll collect. Rook: Fun time over? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Possibly lines from a subsequent quest.

Rook: Business at a Chantry. Not very Andrastian of you. Lucanis: What in our experience together makes you think I'm a good Andrastian? Rook: (Chuckles) Fair enough.

Rook: You sound like you have a plan. Lucanis: Always another mark. Rook: I take it the Antaam are the subject of this so-called analysis? Rook: Why do I get the feeling there's going to be less "analysis" and more stabby-stab? Lucanis: Keeps Wrath content. (Wrath is Spite's previous name?)

Lucanis: Viago said it'd be a fitting spot. Rook: You've proven it's a good spot for an ambush. Lucanis: And you're loud. Which do you think will attract the Antaam?

Meeting with Ashur

It seems as if Lucanis and the Viper were discussing their business, and then Rook came.

The Viper: If you don't trust my intel— Lucanis: I trust your intel and... Lucanis: Fortunate the Rook is here to save the day. Rook: The Rook can detect sarcasm!

Option: Ashur, you shouldn't be here. Rook: This isn't Minrathous. Rook: Ashur, if the Antaam find out you're here... The Viper: I've paid the right people so that they don't.

Option: You two make quite the pair. Rook: The Viper and the Demon. Sounds like a nursery rhyme to scare children.

The Viper: I was just leaving. Rook: Leaving so soon? Rook: You don't have to. Lucanis and I could show you the sights. Rook: There's wine tasting, Antaam assassinating, gambling— Lucanis: Rook. The Viper: Go ahead. I can afford it. Lucanis: (Grumbles.) Course you can. The Viper: You're ruining Rook's fun. Rook: Think about my offer.

The Viper: Should I pay now or— Lucanis: Just go.

Rook: What did he want? Lucanis: Some of us have work to do. Lucanis: It's about time I take care of things at home.

Rook: Who's the mark? Lucanis: Venatori who fled Minrathous after Elgar'nan's fall. Rook: That's why Ashur was here. Lucanis: He's the one who hired me to dismantle the Venatori in the first place. Lucanis: Might as well finish the job.

The most unclear part

Maybe it's related to the quest to kill the Venatori that Viper pointed out.

Rook: Can't take the huge door. Lucanis: The Venatori are inside. Strike from above and we'll take them by surprise. Rook: Above, eh? Rook: Good thing I'm not afraid of heights.

Rook: Not sure why Antivans even build doors. Rook: We never use them. (Crow Origin) Rook: You never use them. Lucanis: We're the Antivan-fucking-Crows.

Rook: We need to be cautious. Rook: If we're not careful, he'll kill the girl. Lucanis: Not if he's dead.

Lucanis: Focus on the self-important bastard. I'll take care of the rest. Rook: They're all self-important—and why do you get so many? Lucanis: Their predictability makes them easy targets.

Venatori: Two, four, six piggies come to slaughter. Venatori: Be grateful. Your meager existence will serve a higher cause. Rook: I'll show you a higher cause right up your— Venatori: (Grunts!) Venatori: Uh—God killer! Right he— Lucanis: Mage killer. Venatori: (Yells in pain) Rook: Lucanis! That's cheating! Lucanis!

Lucanis: Fucking Venatori. Rook: (Sigh) You can take the blood mages out of Minrathous, but…

[strawhbrrries]

Movement

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: a double date that leads to mike schmidt coming home with you in the name of "helping your friend" and he ends up fucking you.

warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, creampie??, female pronouns, slight degrading??, pet names, heavy cussing, mike being hashtag v hot, no established relationship, porn with no plot, not proofread

word count: 2.1k words

author’s note: listen to movement by hozier for the full experience!!! I know this fic wasn't voted to be the first mike one to be posted but I had to do it okay!!!! he's so hot n sexy in this and i need him badly...please enjoy! mwah!

Your eyes scanned the restaurant in front of your car, you were promised a very nice dinner with a very nice man and the place you ended up might as well have been a denny’s. Gia somehow managed to rope you into a double date and as the amazing friend you are, you obliged. Now, you wanted to take it back. If the guy you were set up with wasn’t just an absolute heartthrob you might consider strangling her in the bathroom.

“Gia, this better be the best damn food and the hottest men you have ever experienced or I’m never doing you another favor ever again.” You teased, getting out of your car as she walked up to it.

“I swear he said this place was nicer! Thank you so much babes, I owe you one!” She responded, slipping her arm inside of yours to walk inside. “Maybe the inside is really nice and it’s just a shady exterior.”

You’d never seen the man Gia was seeing tonight so when the two of you arrived at the table you weren’t sure which man was yours, but you knew which one you wanted. He looked gentle, shaggy hair untamed almost like he wasn’t prepared to go on a date tonight. 

“I suppose I’m your date.” He smiled softly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. “I’m MIke, you look uh, really beautiful tonight.”

After the introductions and small talk the two of you hit it off right away, it helped that Gia and her date were more interested in each other than remembering that the people they brought also existed.  The more you talked the more Mike came out of his shell, he wasn’t as shy as you first pegged him to be. Your heel was slowly caressing his calf, neither of you were quite sure when it had ended up there but he wasn’t complaining.

“A man in uniform is hot.” Your flirting was a little rusty, but it seemed to be working just fine for you.

“It’s just a security gig.” He shrugged it off, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. 

You grabbed the straw of your drink, wrapped your tongue around it, and took a sip. Mike choked slightly but covered it up with a cough, adjusting his pants under the table at the same time. 

“She’s not going to go home with him unless I go home with you.” You whispered in his ear as you leaned over the table, tangling your fingers in his hair to trick Gia into thinking you were whispering something dirty. “I’d really like to go home with you.”

You could feel the heat creep up his neck, his face was flushed. His heart might as well be on the outside of his chest with the intensity that it was beating, it’d been a long time since he’d been on a date or even gotten laid but Abby was at home and that just wouldn’t work.

“Uhm, my sister’s at home, can we go to your place?” Mike’s saliva was thick and pooling in his mouth, it felt almost impossible to swallow. He had to be dreaming, this just didn’t make sense otherwise. He was just doing his friend a favor and now your breath was hot on his neck and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

The second the two of you walked outside he got fidgety, like he was going to take off the second you let go of his hand. Frankly he was surprised you hadn’t let go of it the second you picked it up, he was dripping sweat from the moment he realized you were his date. He quickly made a mental note to send a letter to the company who made his preferred deodorant, the fact that he didn’t smell absolutely putrid spoke volumes on their product.

“So did you mean what you said inside? Because I’m perfectly okay with just going home.” 

“I meant it, don’t be so nervous.” You smiled back at him, handing him the keys to your car.

The tension was thick, his knuckles were white as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead and making it back to your place safely and not the fingers drawing figures on his thigh as you spoke about something he couldn’t quite grasp. 

Your place wasn’t too far from the restaurant that Gia’s date had picked, that Mike was thankful for. The longer he had to endure the torture that was your fingers on this thighs, the less his ability to be a gentleman and control himself existed. If it was up to him, he’d probably just pulled over and fucked you in the backseat of your own car but it wasn’t. He was a gentleman, he’d just met you all of a few hours ago, he knew better.

“This is the place.” You smiled softly as he pulled into your driveway.

“It’s nice.” He stated, handing your car keys back to you and taking your hand. “Suits you.”

Mike’s eyes wandered the walls, taking in every aspect of you, as you led him through the house. It didn’t take him long to notice that you lived alone, another thing he was now thankful for. His fingers trailed the zipper of your dress as he stood behind you in your bedroom, his other hand rubbing your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

“Are you going to take it off?” Your voice was shaky and quiet, for the first time tonight you were nervous. 

“And you thought I was the eager one.” He chuckled, tugging your hair back softly to give him just enough access to your face to make eye contact with you. “Do you get off on bringing strangers to your home and having them fuck you?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, blessing the ears of the man behind you who responded with a groan. His lips made contact with your neck, biting and sucking at any of the skin he had access to. The hand that was holding your hair back made itself busy drawing the zipper of your dress further and further down until it couldn’t go any further, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. 

Mike detached himself from your neck and took a step back, briefly admiring how disheveled you looked despite still being fully dressed, he made a quick motion for you to turn around and you obliged almost immediately. If you got his dick any harder it might’ve fallen off before he ever got the chance to use it. 

He backed you into the bed, laying you down and sliding your dress off and into a pile on the floor. Another deep groan was emitted into the air as he took in the sight in front of him, you hadn’t worn a bra and the underwear you’d chosen left nothing to the imagination. Mike immediately started thanking whatever god was above for you and the experience he was about to have. 

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone tonight but then you saw him and your entire plan was flipped upside down. You lied about your friend not going home with her date if you didn’t leave with him, you didn’t want him to think you were desperate but he knew now. The second he touched the zipper of your dress, anything left of your facade was gone. You needed him.

“If you weren’t so fucking wet I would’ve thought you were only doing me a favor.” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing his finger over your folds through your underwear. “ Or maybe you’re just a whore? Huh?”

“For you.” You choked out, words getting caught in your throat over his words. 

At the beginning of the night you would’ve placed money on the fact that he wasn’t capable of things like this, it was like another side of him had come out during the drive to your house. You weren’t complaining, his words were getting to you in a way you’d never experienced. 

“Yeah? For me? Mikey’s own personal whore.” He slipped your underwear to the side and slid his finger through your folds, collecting your juices and bringing them to his mouth. “You’re as sweet as you look, need a honey jar full of you.”

You cried out at him softly, trying to use anything you had to stop his teasing. He was winding you up but edging you right before you could pop, he could’ve said anything and you would’ve agreed just to get him to fuck you. Being this desperate for a man you hardly knew was an exhilarating experience. 

“Please, I need you.” You whined, grabbing at his shirt in a desperate plea. “Please.”

“Good job using your words, pretty girl.” Mike praised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, throwing them in the same pile as your dress.

His clothes soon joined yours on the floor, a small pout emerging when you realized you wouldn’t be able to suck him off, his eyes catching yours as he climbed up your body. He kissed his way up, biting occasionally. Fingers tracing your skin just as you had done to him earlier in the night, lighting a fire on your skin as they went. It was like his body was made to fit yours, like your souls had searched for each other through every lifetime and yet this was the first time they had met.

His lips finally met yours for the first time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away to breathily whisper something in your ear. You shook your head in agreement at whatever he said, as long as he kept touching you like that and making noises in your ear you’d agree to anything he said to you. 

Shaking your head yes was the best decision you’d made so far, you felt two fingers slip inside of you. Thrusting for a few moments before they were replaced by the tip of his cock, slowly pushing in as his mouth found one of your nipples. The gentle man you had once perceived had been replaced by a god who was hung like a horse, splitting you in half with the cock fit for a god.

“Fuck.” Mike moaned, tipping his head back when he bottomed out, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “So good, pretty girl.”

Anything you had planned on responding with quickly dissipated the second he pulled out and thrusted back in, a low groan coming out insead. His fingers were digging into your thighs as he held them up where he wanted them, all you could hope for was the imprints bruising as a reminder that this actually happened. What hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin from the sweat covering it was dangling backwards freely, all his focus was on not cumming too soon and if he continued to look at you he definitely would.

Your eyes had glossed over a long time ago, tears streaming down the sides as a byproduct of the blissful state his cock had put you in, fingers gripping desperately at the sheets and your tits bouncing with each thrust. He was once again praying to every god that he would get to do this another time, then he could sear the image of you under him into his mind.

“Mike, Mikey I need..” You whined, the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to spill before you could even finish a coherent thought.

“C’mon pretty girl, you can do it, let it go.” He praised you, bringing his thumb down to your clit and drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts to help your orgasm spill over.

His words were the final piece in the puzzle, your orgasm hitting you soon after he spoke. Legs shaking, mind blowing, tears, and silent moans was all your body could do at the supernova your orgasm had proved to be. You’d never cum this hard before but if every orgasm after didn’t measure up, he had ruined you. 

“You did so good.” Was all you heard as you came down from your high, Mike’s hands soothed down your hair as he whispered into your ear. 

His thrusts continued at the same pace for only a few seconds before his hips stuttered and he painted your insides white. 

“I guess tonight wasn’t a total waste.” You joked quietly, turning to the side to smile at him as he laid down next to you. 

“We need to do this more often.”

[teaboot]

do you think i'll ever get to a place in my life where i'm actually a good person and i don't keep getting bombarded with people telling me all the ways i'm doing things wrong. will i ever stop feeling like i'm faking being good and i'm actually a despicable person deep down inside like there's something rotten and irremovable in the very core of me. i feel sick

As a recovering self-hater I have a few things that have been helping

Truly shitty people are typically, in my experience, not chronically preoccupied with anxieties that they need to be better. It seems to be the 100% rock-solid certainty that everything you ever do is selfless that you need to watch out for.

Motive only matters in court. If you donate 30 hours a week to charity so you can tell yourself you're a good person or you donate that same time because you genuinely enjoy helping people, that's still 30 hours, imo. At that point the argument is more philosophical than anything. The help is still happening.

Nobody can read your mind. You can be the bitterest, cattiest, most judgemental and mean-spirited motherfucker alive, but as long as you don't let your feelings hurt others, you're golden. In fact, I personally think you should get extra credit for effort. Swimming upriver ain't easy

None of us are selfless by nature. That's okay. We all crave attention, and validation, and comfort, and reward. That self-interest is a survival skill. It's not going anywhere and I don't think it should. The key is moderation, self control, and consideration for others.

The loudest voice in your head probably isn't yours. Survivors of all kinds of abuse- and all abuse is psychological to varying extremes- often keep their critic's narrative in their head. That voice that says you're awful- is that something you'd say to someone else? No? Then try to figure out who said it to you. They were probably an asshole. The voice that answers it it probably your own. Listen to that one

No, you will not feel like this forever. It's a pain in the ass, but dedicating time and thought into ignoring that inner critic and elevating your positive impulses is effective.

Some things I've done myself that seem to help:

Do some research on cognitive behavioral therapy and cognitive reprogramming. These are easier to exercise with a therapist but once you figure out the steps to follow you can do them on your own, too.

When you do something good, write it down for yourself. Keep a dated journal, either on paper or in your phone. When you find yourself in a pit of self-loathing, you can go back and remind yourself of all the good you've done. If this is hard, try listing 3 good things you did at the end of each day. Anything from picking up a scrap of litter to running a food drive.

Long post, but really, the best thing I can say is this:

Aything that takes effort is worth celebrating, even if that effort is minimal or that task is considered small.

At the end of the day, "bare minimum" isn't working a full-time job and eating three meals a day, cleaning up after yourself and doing it with a smile- bare minimum is nothing. Bare minimum is laying on the floor motionless for 24 hours and filter-feeding like a sea sponge. And if even that's difficult for you, then it's not your bare minimum, is it?

There's a lot of cruel, inconsiderate, uncaring people in the world, only out for themselves at the expense of others, and even if you think you're one of them, giving a shit about doing better still puts you a mile ahead of most.

Try not to worry too terribly. If you're thinking about it, you're probably doing fine👍

[pomefioredove]

I have a silly idea: reader comes with Jade, Leona, or whoever else you want when they get their wisdom teeth taken out, so they can drive them home after, you know, but [Jade, Leona, or whoever] has a strong reaction to the anesthetic and is very loopy (and emotional, and honest) afterwards.

I hope you feel better soon!

arguably leona is the funniest one 😭😭 ty for this anon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ forget it

type of post: fic characters: leona additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, reader can drive, I feel like that needs tagging, I didn't write this about jade but he snuck his way in anyway

"Careful. Mind your head. Let's get you into the car- there we go,"

Leona mumbles something nonsensical, holding an icepack to his jaw.

You'd think, with the pain and all, he'd be in an even worse mood than he usually is.

But then, you'd be wrong. He's full of surprises.

He runs his free hand over the armrest of his seat. "Where'd you get this thing, anyway? I thought you were supposed to be poor or 'somethin,"

"It was a gift, actually," ...from Leona himself, which he doesn't seem to remember. Hm.

"Whoever bought it must like you a lot..."

You give him a strange look before you start the car. "I suppose so?"

"Lucky bastard,"

You laugh. Then he laughs, which takes you by surprise. It's not like him to be so... unlike him.

He's very talkative, too.

Leona's been mumbling nonsense to himself since he got out of the dentist's door, but this is actual conversation, now... if a little slurred.

"'s a good thing you're 'doin this. If it was Jack or 'somethin I'd never hear the end of it... you're dependable, 'ya know?"

Laughing gas. The nurse had warned you he might be a little loopy for a short time after the procedure. Euphoric, is the word she actually used.

You can definitely see that now.

Leona is looking at you like you're the prettiest thing he ever saw, his eyelids lowered.

"Do you got a boyfriend or 'somethin?"

The numb, slurred state of his words makes it uneasy to understand him, but with the look he's been giving you, it's not exactly hard to guess.

"No, not presently," you say, trying to keep your eyes on the road. "Why? You gonna ask me out?"

"Yeah. Maybe,"

You roll your eyes. The nurse had also warned you he might experience some mild memory loss.

An effect of the laughing gas, again.

He won't remember this conversation in a few hours. A sense of disappointment hollows out your chest. You ignore it.

"Okay, then. Meet me on Friday. Six PM. I want dinner and a show, your pick," you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Done,"

"And I want flowers. Imported from Sunset Savanna,"

"Can do that,"

"And I expect a kiss at the end. A proper one, not a teen boy one,"

"Pfft. A teen boy one?"

"You know. Eyes open, dumb look on their face, tongue sticking out. You'll have to kiss me like a gentleman, Kingscholar. I really like you. Like-like you. Make it count,"

"Yeah, yeah..."

He mutters, closing his eyes and kicking back against the car seat.

Not all things are so different about him now- he falls asleep just the same. And he snores. All the way back to school.

You nudge him awake and he only growls, though not very menacingly, and lets you help him back to his dorm, your arm under his. Once he's tucked in bed, medication on the bedside table and a checklist in Ruggie's hands, you're done.

Walking back to your own dorm, you feel that same hollow sense of disappointment. And some relief, too. You confessed to your crush, and he won't even remember it!

"Ah, it's you. I was wondering who might be out so late,"

You jump, and spin on your heels towards the source of the noise. Behind you, the owner of the mysterious voice comes out of the shadows.

"Oh. Jade," who else would you expect at this point?

"Good evening," he bows, a little too formally for the sharp-toothed smirk on his face. "Might I inquire what you're doing, out here so late?"

"I had to drive Leona to a dentist thing," you shrug, walking again. Jade follows alongside you.

"Oh? And that went well?"

You chuckle. "Very. Besides the side effects on the anesthesia they put him on,"

That familiar curiosity gleams in Jade's glassy eyes, giving him a predatorial look. It's... unnerving. As usual.

"Oh? I wish you had told me. I've become quite interested in land creature teeth lately... tell me, what anesthesia was used?"

Creepy. But not unusual for Jade. "Some injection, and laughing gas,"

"...Interesting... you were in the car for a long while?"

"Uh..." where's he going with this? "Yeah, I guess. And we had to fill out some paperwork in the lobby before leaving."

"Interesting... very interesting,"

The gleam in his eyes almost becomes hungry, as if he's feeding off of what you're telling him.

Like... he knows something.

You narrow your eyes. "What?"

Jade grins, showing you rows of sharpened teeth. "Oh, nothing..."

You wait for him to go on. He waits for you to ask. You both walk down the long path to your dorm.

"...It's just that the effects of laughing gas wear off no more than ten minutes after the flow has ended. I'd dare to say that Leona was perfectly lucid by the time you got into the car,"

You slow. Then you stop. There's no way...

That... absolutely bastard of a prince.

Jade's grin sharpens.

"It seems as if whatever secret you have so clearly given Leona while you thought he was drugged isn't so secret now... is it?"

[innerchildabortionclinic]

birthday reflections

on june 4th I turn 27. typically I don't celebrate my birthday due to events that occurred on it when I turned 18. however, I feel different this year. maybe i'm just looking for an excuse to acquire more sweets when I say I wouldn't mind celebrating on a minor scale, but certainly, things have improved. i've still had to lie to my mom a lot about my social life so she thinks i'm doing much better than I am. she looks at me with hopelessness and guilt whenever I confess to having any issue. so my mom thinks i'll be living it up over the next few days. hopefully she doesn't bump into me at work...that would be awkward. she is dropping by cookies at my apartment which I greatly appreciate. I get really excited for special treats like that because i'm not a kid anymore and I can't invest all my savings in candy.

i'm torn in how I view my mom. on one hand we are very close. there are just some things she says that will really set off my temper--for example, talking about how many "issues" I needed help with when I was young when those issues are tied to her ex husband. but every time I learn about her past, and see what she considers to be ideal, i'm sympathetic. she just wanted a normal family. she tried so hard to create the household she wanted as a child. she is overbearing because her parents paid so little attention to her they didn't even know she graduated college. I wonder if she, like me, ever daydreamed of a hypothetical perfect family--it makes me happy to imagine a child raised in a good environment.

anyway, i'm not sure what the future holds for me; I can't make any predictions because I never could've predicted i'd be able to do the things I can do now. all I know is, i'm full of equal amounts of frustration and joy. joy for new experiences, frustration because there is always a part of me desperately wanting to pull away, and finding every excuse to do so.

i'll end this post by saying it's worth stepping out of your comfort zone. no matter how the story of my life ends I will know that I chose not to be guided by fear forever and I will never regret it.

[anniflamma]

AnniFlamma, we all love your fanart and animatics of Epic: The Musical, please don't let a few shitty people demotivate when 100x those people love and adore the stuff you make, along with all other animators!

Stay safe and take care, we will always be here and I can't seem to repeat this enough but we love your art

Thank you and everyone for reaching out to me. I will be honest with you all that what happened did upset me a lot, but I am very lucky to have people to go to for support. I will even blame some of them for making me cry, my friends, I mean, because if I am upset and if someone asks me if I am okay, I just break down. 😅 But I used our little server as a ground to vent, and right now I feel much better now.

But I will still be honest that I meant what I said that my interest in making Epic fan content has reduced a lot. I still love Epic, and I still really want to do the whole Ithaca saga, but I have also realized that posting content about it has caused me to feel anxious.

An example is when I finished The Challenge animatic, I felt an extreme wave of anxiety when I was going to press the upload button. And the worst thing? My anxiety confirmed the fears. I have gotten tiktok comments saying that I am a freak for drawing Penelope nude despite it being in a non-sexual way. Apparently, I have to be constantly reminded that female bodies are icky and the world hates women. Aaaaaaand then to get hit by that TikTok video of thousands of people shitting on me, Duvetbox, Gigi, Mircy, Neal, and so many more…

If you have noticed, I have posted less, all types of content for Epic. I don’t do my headcanons anymore, I never wrote that full review of Epic, I feel less keen on drawing fanart, let alone joking about shipping here online. I remember when I made a joke about shipping Aphrodite and Athea because they were the only female characters interacting with each other (ignoring Hera), and then I took it as a critique that Epic failed the Bechdel test. After that, I got plenty of anonymous messages about how I am an evil person for shipping those two goddesses… Just say that you don’t know what the Bechdel test is and block me... 😑

I also hate how my first negative experience with the Epic fandom was pure homophobia toward my Bible animatics. Like, they used negative language toward gay people to tell me to make Epic content instead. There is this weird obsession where people expect me and other artists to only do one thing, which is Epic, and if we dare to do something else, we get punished or infantilized, like we didn’t have any say when Casper commissioned us for Stories of Styx. Don’t get me started on how fucking awful people were to Casper and Teagan….

I hate how people easily tell others things, only for them to unquestionably believe everything said about me. Like the amount of "Anni made Ody/Circe porn, uwaaaa!!" And then, the moment someone questions them and forces them to realize I never made such a thing, they double down and say that I shouldn't have made Circe nude in the original animatic "cuz female bodies are icky" or the classic "Well, I haven’t seen the porn video, but someone told me it existed, so I’m going to believe it exsits." Like, you could tell these people that the sky is green, and they would believe you.

Then there’s that whole "Anni supports rape" or "Anni felt bad for the suitors and wanted Penelope to get raped" insanity. Those quotes stems from ppl was crashing out when I made a post criticizing Epic’s way of addressing the topic of rape. In that post, I was suggesting that I would like the story better if Odysseus were actually morally ambiguous when killing the suitors. How could anyone even think Ody was in the wrong for killing the suitors because he wanted to protect Penelope? How can he be a monster after that? I don’t know, I support a husband protecting his wife from gang rapists, but I guess that was the worst thing for me to ever say, huh? Like, how dare I criticize their almighty Jorge…

It’s insane that I have an easier time handling hateful Christians compared to TikTok Epic fans. 😅

Oh well... I’ve had so many bad experiences with the TikTok Epic fandom over the past two years. And eventually, you just want to log off.

I’m thinking of stopping posting Epic content at all on TikTok as a first step. If TikTok Epic fans hate my fanart that much, then I’ll do them the favor of never seeing it from my account. I will, however, continue posting my Bible animatics there. And if I continue working on my Hold Them Down animatic and if I ever finish it… I will only be active here on Tumblr and on YouTube.

And so, at this moment, I will take a pause from Epic. It probably won’t be that long because, despite everything, I love that musical. But I also have to remind myself that, despite there being so many negative remarks toward not only me but the other artists, there is a lot of love from you actual fans. I have about 138K subscribers on YouTube. That’s 138K individuals who love my work so much that they want to see more of it. THAT IS TOTALY INSANE! And I will never forget that! And I am so thankful for all of you and your support. Thank you and I love you guys! 💕

I’m also planning on making a better-formulated post about this another day. All of this is just me ranting and want to take a short break, focusing on something else.... Maybe... Venice the musical? 😅

[avianyuh]

Small World | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: After being ditched by your friends, your coworker Taehyung invites you to a weekend hang out at his apartment where you end up running into someone unexpected.

word count: 3k

I had avoided checking my phone all day. I knew the minute I’d inevitably skim through Instagram, I would be bombarded by pictures of my past friend group’s summer trip that I was seemingly “left out” of the planning for. Six years of friendship went to waste and I was left all throughout the month of June with nothing to do but sit on my couch, green with envy over everything I was missing out on. 

All I could do was focus on work, which was actually surprisingly easy to do since I had a few really great coworkers. One of which, going by the name of Taehyung. We both waited tables at a restaurant, which upon my move to the city after college was the only place willing to hire me as a fresh graduate with no job experience past some part time retail work in High School and university. We both bonded over feeling out of place in our twenties, banding together to “fuck our timelines” we had expected to be halfway done by our midtwenties. In reality, I learned that being an adult is harder than it looked and I look back and laugh at how diluted my version of adulthood was back when I was a teenager. 

I lived with a roommate I barely knew. Most of the conversations revolved around when the rent would be due. I was working a job that wasn’t aligned with my major and I was still single. Now, on top of everything else, it seemed like my friendships were falling apart all because I couldn’t afford the Europe summer trip, hence my friends thought I should be punished and be made to feel more broke than I already was. That’s why my growing friendship with Taehyung started to become more important. 

“I can’t believe that they would post all the highlights knowing you’re sitting at home looking at the pictures. That’s fucked up.” Taehyung shook his head in disapproval as we chatted in the break room, quickly trying to eat our meals before the dinner rush came in. “Out of all the things you’ve mentioned over the past year I’ve worked with you, this one takes the cake.” I let out a sigh of relief, hearing him agree that my friends were being inconsiderate, I felt less crazy and more validated. 

“I get that they want to post about the trip, but they didn’t even try to compromise with me when I asked them if we could pick a more budget-friendly location. They told me it was my fault I wasn’ working somewhere better by now.” I ranted, watching as Taehyung’s eyes went wide. 

“Fuck them” Taehyung said with a mouth full of sandwich. “Which friend was the one who told you to not wear green again?” I laughed, thinking back to the time I told him about a passive aggressive conversation I had with a friend from university. 

“Riley, she told me green made me look wide.” I said, with an emphasis on the word wide. 

“You want my honest opinion.” Taehyung asked, leaning in across the table. “I think you’re better off without them…they seem fake.” My eyes softened as I reached for his hand across the tiny break room table, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“Thanks Tae, that means a lot.” I said, grateful to have someone who actually understood me. Then we both stood up and tied on our work aprons before starting our shifts. 

After a few hours of enduring some nice people out to eat with friends, family or alone, and of course the nasty, cranky crowd, I was officially exhausted and ready to clock out. “Heading home?” I asked Taehyung who was standing behind me as I finished punching out. 

“Yeah, I’m ready to just wash my face and go to bed. My feet are killing me.” He complained as he also punched out. We always walked out together if we were working the same shift. Most of the staff had already left, but we tried to wait for each other most nights. I threw my bag over my shoulder and pulled out my metrocard as we both headed down the sidewalk toward the subway. “Oh by the way, I’m having a little get together on Saturday night if you’re interested?” Taehyung piped up as we neared the corner, getting closer to the landmark we’d usually go our separate ways. 

“Really? That sounds fun, I don’t think I’m doing anything that night so maybe I’ll come.” I answered, trying to rake through my mind on any prior engagements I may have already signed up for on Saturday. 

“Well, I hope you can make it. It’ll just be a few of my friends, a lot of those artsy types I keep telling you about.” I smiled, Taehyung was very into anything artistic, frequently blowing money meant for his savings on paintings from artists around the city. He always backed up the purchase by saying he needed to support other struggling people. Taehyung’s ultimate goal was to sustain himself off of his own art one day, and eventually stop waiting tables. I really wished that he’d sucker some rich guy into buying one of his pieces one day so he’d never have to work another day in his life. An ex boyfriend I had dated back in High School was also pretty artsy, but he took the musical route. I spent many nights in his room watching him play guitar, or sing to me while we were driving somewhere. We broke up right before graduation after he told me he was moving to LA with a few of his friends, in search of getting signed. I hadn’t heard from him in years and remembered feeling pretty hurt that he dumped me two days before graduation. I thought about him sometimes, even looking him up on Instagram, but he had stopped posting two years ago, so I wasn’t sure about his whereabouts anymore. 

Taehyung and I hugged and said goodbye and by the time I made it home, he had already sent me his address. Everyone’s coming at 7, but come over a little earlier if you want, he had texted. 

By Saturday I was sitting on Taehyung’s couch, music playing softly in the background as we laughed and talked. Taehyung gave me a run down of the people coming over. There was Julie, who had blue and purple ombre hair, who was working at a boutique downtown. Cami, a friend of Taehyung’s who worked at another restaurant who I had actually met a few times. Then there was Jimin, who most people viewed as charming, who worked as a choreographer. Taehyung said that Jimin might’ve been bringing a friend of his, but Taehyung didn’t know who. I loved meeting new people, and especially now considering my last text to my group had gone unanswered, I chose to ignore the pit of disappointment in my stomach and try to have fun. We’d just be sitting and talking, with some food and alcohol spread out on the coffee table in front of the couch. Taehyung had put in a lot of effort. We continued to sip out of our glasses and talk until the buzzer went off, signaling the first person to arrive. 

Cami was the first to show up, greeting both Taehyung and I with a warm smile. She had long, wavy hair and had appeared to have dyed it a honey blonde since the last time I had seen her. She plopped down on the seat next to me as I handed her a glass, catching up on our lives. Soon after Julie arrived, bringing her uninvited boyfriend with her who sat silently next to her most of the night. Taehyung gave Cami and I the side eye as Julie’s boyfriend glanced down at his phone, not even bothering to say hello. 45 minutes later, the buzzer rang again, and Taehyung stood up from his seat, “I wonder who that could be…” he questioned sarcastically. According to Julie, Jimin was always late, even when he promised to be on time. 

I stood up to stretch my legs and grab some more ice for my glass from the kitchen while Taehyung answered the door. I could hear the sound of the door opening and closing, as everyone jokingly cheered and yelled “Jimin!” I crept back in and to my seat, glancing over at Jimin, who was dressed in ripped jeans and a dark t-shirt. He was definitely attractive, which was probably what Taehyung meant when he said Jimin was a charmer. But what really caught my eye was the shadowy figure still standing in the hallway. He was more built than Jimin, and he had hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. I couldn’t see his face, but could make out the outlines of some of the tattoos that adorned his arms. I squinted, leaning forward, waiting for him to fully come into the light. “Who’s that behind you?” Taehyung asked, playfully shoving Jimin out of the way. I gasped, feeling my heart stop as I got a full view of him. There he was, my ex-boyfriend. The boy he dumped me, told me he couldn’t be with me, said he needed to travel, get out of our small town and go somewhere he could be a serious musician. 

“Hey, I’m Jungkook.” He said shyly, extending his hand for Taehyung to shake. But as he turned his attention away from Taehyung and stepped further into the apartment, removing his shoes by the front door, he must’ve gone through the same shock as me when his eyes met mine. It looked as if he had seen a ghost. Stunned, standing maybe 15 feet away from me. It felt as if no one else was in the room as our eyes locked, almost as if we were in a staring contest. Jimin nudged him, gesturing for him to follow his lead and sit down. I fidgeted nervously in my seat as Jungkook sat on the other side of the sectional, directly facing me. I took a sip of my drink, wishing the alcohol would calm my growing nerves. I tried to not look at him, instead half heartedly focused on whatever Cami was talking about with the rest of the group, but it was no use. I couldn’t pay attention knowing the guy who broke my heart was sitting on the other side of me. I leaned over, whispering in Taehyung’s ear that I was going to go use the bathroom. He patted my knee in acknowledgement, smiling at me as I got up and left the room. I tried to catch my breath as I walked down the hallway. I shut the bathroom door behind me, turning on the light and leaning over the sink. Not long after, there was a knock on the door, to which I didn’t respond. I knew who was on the other side of that door. 

“I’m coming in.” Jungkook said in a low voice. He shut the door behind him as he leaned his back against it. He didn’t say anything and neither did I, again just staring at each other. I scanned his body, taking in everything that had changed about him in the past few years. The tattoos that were displayed all over his arms and hands. The way his black hair was perfectly tousled, and his arms had become more muscular. He had always been very competitive and athletic, so I wasn’t surprised to see how fit he still was after all these years. I also took in the new addition of a lip piercing, which made him even more attractive. His eyes still gave off the sense of innocence, but they seemed a bit duller. Back when we had dated, everytime he talked about music or sang, his eyes were filled with hope, if that makes sense. Now his eyes seemed somewhat tired. I shifted against the bathroom counter, biting my lip. All you could hear was our breathing. Finally, I broke the silence. 

“I, uh, can’t believe we ran into each other.” I said in disbelief. 

“Small world, I guess.” Jungkook joked, crossing his arms over his chest. I looked around the tiny bathroom, thinking about what he was going to say. “I didn’t know you moved to New York City? I guess that explains why I haven’t seen you around when I go to visit my parents back home.” He said, his gaze focusing back on me. 

“Yeah, I don’t really go back home that often, it’s hard to get time off, my manager gives me a hard time.” I explained, to which he nodded in understanding. 

“Where do you work?” Jungkook questioned curiously. 

“At a restaurant, that’s how I met Taehyung.” Jungkook swallowed hard, shifting his weight, and standing up straight.

“So, is he your boyfriend?” He asked, pointing his thumb behind him outside of the bathroom. I was surprised that he would ask, assuming he wouldn’t care if I was dating Taehyung or not. But I could sense a kind of desperation in his eyes as he anxiously awaited my answer. His breathing became more shallow and he nervously tapped his pointer finger against his chin, a nervous habit he had back when I had known him years ago. 

“No, just a friend.” I shook my head. I could hear him let out a deep breath, which for some reason made me feel good. Knowing after all this time, there was still something there. I inched toward him, trying to make it seem like I was just moving in place. Maybe I shouldn’t step closer to him? I wondered in my head. “I thought you were living in LA?” I asked, looking up at him. 

“LA fell through two years ago, and I got a job playing in a band up here. I had a record deal but it fell through back in LA so I just figured it was time to move.” He shrugged, moving his hands into his pockets. 

“I kept up with you online for a few years. I really wanted everything to work out for you…” I said quietly. 

“I’m sorry about the way I ended things.” Jungkook said, moving closer towards me. “I was a stupid kid and believe me, not even trying to make it work with you has been one of my biggest regrets.” He whispered, standing right in front of me. His eyes were filled with remorse and I subconsciously found myself reaching for the free hand he had taken out of his pocket. I ran my thumb over his as I pursed my lips together. 

“Jungkook…I’ve missed you.” I murmured, “I never thought I’d see you again.” Our bodies were now firmly pressed up against each other. He scooped me up and lifted me onto the edge of the bathroom counter. I could feel his muscles tense, his skin was soft. He cupped my face, his nose against my own. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, letting his thumb rub against my cheek. 

“Mhm”, I interjected before his lips crashed against mine. His lip piercing was cold upon contact. It felt as if we were 18 again, as his hands abandoned my face and crept under my shirt. His tongue entered my mouth, The only sound heard came from our kisses and the moans that left my throat. I’m sure he could taste the alcohol on my lips. My hands slip down his toned chest, resting on his belt buckle. He pulled away for a second, looking into my eyes, now with a new sort of intensity before begging to trail kisses down my neck. I tried to stifle the moans fighting to come out of me as I closed my eyes, focused on the air hitting the wet kisses he was leaving on my body. My fingers slipped through the belt, started to tug at it. 

“Y/n, I don’t think it’s appropriate to have sex in your friend’s bathroom.” He joked in between kisses. I opened my eyes and laughed as he lifted his head back up. I pressed my forehead against his own before pressing a soft kiss to his full lips. 

“You know everyone out there wondering why we’re in the bathroom together right?” I stated, trying to distract myself from the heat growing between my legs. I needed him, but I knew now wasn’t the right place. 

“Fuck em’. Let’s just leave and we can explain it tomorrow.” Jungkook said, a smile forming on his lips. 

“And what exactly am I supposed to tell Taehyung? That I left his apartment early to go have sex with my ex-boyfriend?” As I said it, I felt myself start to sober up as I started to think about my current predicament. If we had sex? What would happen after? Does that mean we’re back together? Will he want to keep in touch? I suddenly became angry at myself. How could I be so stupid, sleeping with a guy I hadn’t spoken to in years. It’s true that I frequently thought of him and I checked his accounts to see if he had posted or had moved on. But realistically, how easy would it be to pick up from where we left off years ago? Maybe I was drunk and in my feelings over my friends that I had unintentionally thrown away my better judgment. 

Jungkook kept his arms around my waist, but stepped back a bit so he could get a better view of my face. “Y/n, what do you want to tell him? What are we doing here?” He asked, which took me by surprise. I wanted to be honest with him. Being able to see him again and feeling that same chemistry after all that time apart, I knew what I wanted to say to him. 

“Jungkook, I want to try this again.” I answered, to which he moved closer again. His hand caressed my cheek as his lips molded against mine again. 

“I do too.” He said after pulling away. 

-

{A/N: OMG, guys I feel so bad, I disappeared again. Truthfully, I was suffering from a mix of writers block, finals and a shitty personal life. But this story idea popped into my mind and I knew I had to write this shit down right away and I absolutely love this story and I hope you do too! Jungkook is just one of those guys where I can see him fitting into so many different scenarios/tropes and reconnecting with a guy from your past is my favorite and something I'm manifesting for myself lol. But seriously, I hope you enjoyed this. JK is my favorite to write about besides Yuta, stories with him as a character seem to come pretty natural idk why. Also, this story will be posted on my AO3 page for those who like to read on there. As for a writing schedule, I DO plan on writing this summer, but I'm not sure if it was be posts every two weeks like I'm used to, I'm trying to not burn out, but just know I'm always trying to come up with new story ideas. As always, I love you all so so much, thank you for continuing to read my work while I've been inactive. I'm always here! Have a great day/night and mwahhhh💋💋💋💋💋💋}

[pillow-coded]

To Have and to Hold — Chapter 1

Summary: finding a lost toddler's mother in the library wasn’t how Spencer expected to spend his afternoon. Later, when her mother arrives—panicked, breathless, and beautiful—Spencer starts to forget how to breathe. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Brief depiction of a lost child, mild panic from a parent, emotional vulnerability word count: 5.3k

A/N: This is the first work I had the guts to post (genuinely scared lol), slow updates! (so sorry, but uni is killing me), and lastly, English isn't my native language, so please do let me know if i got any grammar mistakes! (also not proofread cause i'm too embarrassed to show any of my friends)

Series Masterlist

Libraries have always been a great comfort for me. It’s a place full of knowledge, warmth, peace. Maybe it’s the smell of old books and how I can easily link that smell to the amiable parts of my childhood.

Those Autumn nights when everything was fine, where my wires were still intact. Mom was doing well back then. She’d read to me those old books she collected from all her years of teaching. That’s how I saw them back then... Old, decrepit books that contained the most fun stories... At least, I found them fun. Like Shakespeare’s Tales Retold – child-friendly versions of Shakespeare’s works.

Nowadays, they’re more than just fond stories or old books. Those books are relics and a memory of when my mother was... well, more lucid.

What I loved most about libraries was the quietness of it all. I spent a couple of hours of my day when I could, basking in the quiet. It was nice not to have to hear the gruesome details of some innocent woman murdered in cold blood.

Days like these only made the quietness feel even better. Soft Autumn day, nearing Winter already. We had just come back from a tough case, children were involved. Thankfully, we managed to get on time.

I had watched that boy while JJ tried to talk to him, trying to understand what had happened to him. He was barefoot, his hair disheveled, and he looked achingly thin. We later found that the boy’s parents held a “discipline ring.” According to his parents, it was a “behavior modification” experiment—one they claimed was “research-backed,” designed to “train” their child into being the perfect prodigy. The boy was denied food, affection, and even basic care when he disobeyed. But worse? The parents live-streamed it all on private forums for a group of like-minded “disciplinarians.”

It didn’t matter that we caught his parents. That the live-stream was shut down. That the others in that so-called “discipline ring” were going to prison. None of it mattered when he looked up at me with those eyes—hollow but obedient. Like love was something he still thought he had to earn.

I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I hated those people.

I’ve done a lot of pretending in my life. Pretended I wasn’t scared. Pretended I wasn’t lonely. Pretended I didn’t want a family of my own. But that boy—he didn’t know how to pretend. He didn’t know how to fake normal. He just waited patiently in that hospital bed for someone to love him back.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, which is why I had decided to come to the library instead of resting after the case like a normal person. I needed a moment of peace, a moment of quiet.

That moment of quietness was rudely interrupted—torn apart by high-pitched, desperate sobbing. I turn to my left, and there's a girl at the end of the long corridor full of bookcases. A tiny one at that, since the whole corridor looked gigantic compared to her.

She couldn’t have been more than five, barely tall enough to brush the second shelf. A statistical outlier in this ocean of silence, suddenly very, very loud. There was something unsettling about how her tiny fists rubbed at her eyes. Children cried in a language everyone understood.

“Are you lost?” I ask hesitantly, not moving from my spot in the corridor. The little girl stops crying for a brief moment. Well, not stop, but slowed down. Her big eyes are still so full of fear and tears, but they open wide to look at me as if she hadn’t been expecting someone to help.

She doesn’t say anything.

Just looks at me—eyes still shimmering, lips trembling, chest stuttering around hiccuped sobs. She’s scared. That much is obvious. But it’s the way she clutches the fabric of her little coat that really gets me. Like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth right now.

I walk towards her. I'm not close—just close enough to show I’m not a threat. A non-threatening stranger in a cardigan and tie, kneeling among the books like I’m part of the furniture.

She stares, still trembling, still silent.

“It’s okay,” I murmur gently. “I’m not going to come closer unless you want me to. I just want to help.”

Her little hand scrubs clumsily at her cheek. She sniffles, her shoulders curling inward. Still holding it in. Still trying to be brave.

Then, finally—after a moment that feels like something unspooling—she shakes her head. And her voice, when it comes, is a soft, crumpled thing:

“I can’t find my mommy.”

I nod, matching her quietness. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

A pause.

“I’ll help you find her, alright? No rush. We can check the kiddie section together. That’s probably where she’ll look first.”

I didn’t offer my hand. It felt like too much for both of us. Instead, I walked beside her, slow and steady, letting the silence settle between us like soft dust. She kept sniffling quietly the whole walk down.

I desperately needed a way to make the little cries stop.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” I asked softly.

She tilted her head back to look up at me—really look this time. She was so small she had to crane her neck to find my eyes. Her expression still carried that flicker of uncertainty, her trust not quite earned yet.

“I’m Spencer.”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Just stares for a second, like she’s still deciding whether I’m safe. Then, in the tiniest voice—barely above a whisper—she says:

“...Maddie.”

Maddie.

I nod, repeating it once under my breath to make it real.

“That’s a beautiful name, Maddie.”

She says nothing, but her fingers curl tighter around the hem of her coat. She’s still scared, but she’s not looking away anymore.

Progress.

I scan the rows of shelves ahead. The kiddie section’s not far now—colorful bean bags, tiny chairs, picture books splayed on wide tables.

“Do you like magic tricks, Maddie?”

She nods her tiny head, her eyes warming up to me at the thought.

I felt something in my stomach… I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe yearning?

She nods—just once—and I see it. That flicker of trust, like a light turning on behind her eyes. Not quite safety, but something near it.

And something stirs in my stomach.

I don’t know what to call it. It’s not adrenaline, and it’s not fear. Maybe it’s yearning. Not for her, necessarily—but for what she has. What she’s lost. What she’s looking for.

For someone to come back for her.

For someone to call her name.

“Okay… how about I show you some magic tricks while we wait for your mommy to get here? that sound fun, Maddie?”

This time she nods enthusiastically. Her big eyes excited to see what sorcery I had planned to show her.

I dig the pocket of my pants, my movements slow and deliberate. I pull out a simple quarter. It’s nothing special. Just a plain, shiny quarter that for some reason, I’ve held on to for way longer than I should’ve.

“Behold,” I announce, holding it up between two fingers like it’s enchanted. “A perfectly ordinary quarter.”

She leans in, captivated—eyes locked on the coin like it’s something rare. A small smile starts to tug at her cheeks.

“It’s your everyday quarter,” I say, twirling the tiny thing between my fingers, doing my best to keep this unfamiliar girl comforted—as if her calm is the only thing keeping me steady.

“Watch closely.”

I place the coin on my open palm and slowly close my fingers around it. Then, with my free hand, I give the air above my fist a little wave—like I’m stirring something invisible.

“And now… it’s gone.”

I open my hand. Empty.

She gasps.

I see it—the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes light up like I’ve just rewritten the rules of the universe.

I lean in, just a little. Not too close.

“Huh. That’s strange…” I murmur, pretending to look around her, behind her, above her. “Where could it have gone…?”

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I reach behind her ear, and pull the coin free like I just plucked a star from the sky.

Her breath catches. She stares at the quarter in my fingers like it’s a miracle.

“It was behind your ear this whole time,” I whisper, grinning.

She beams at me, her fear momentarily forgotten. Her laughter is soft but real, bright and bubbly and innocent in a way that makes something sharp tug behind my ribs.

“Are you a sorcerer?” She asks, her big, curious eyes staring into my soul, trying to get answers out of me.

I blink, “A sorcerer?”

She nods, completely serious, “like the ones in Harry Potter.”

I chuckle fondly at her question, “Well… I don’t have a broom. Or a wand. Or an Owl.”

“But you made the coin vanish…” She pouts slightly, and although the sight of her minor pout was adorable, I would’ve given anything to see her smile again.

I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the case that had me feeling so fond of a child I just met. Maybe it got all the loose wires within me, all frayed and sparking from things I still hadn’t worked through. But there was something about this moment—this tiny human with tear-streaked cheeks and a Harry Potter reference—that made something ache deep in my chest.

I felt it so sharply it almost hurt.

This... this mattered.

And I hated how much I wanted it—interactions like this. Not just the comfort or the connection but the permanence. The possibility of something that was mine.

Kids of my own.

I glance down at her, still wide-eyed, still waiting for more magic. Her little hands twitch with excitement like she’s ready to believe anything I say.

“Yeah, but it’s only a magic trick, sweetheart,” I murmur, trying to offer the truth gently, without breaking the illusion. Without hurting her feelings.

But maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I should let her believe in it a little longer. Let her live in the dream. Give her what I wish someone had given me at that age—a reason to believe in wonder.

So I sigh, dramatically, like I’m about to confess something world-altering.

“Okay… you got me. But you can’t tell anyone, alright?”

She leans in, eyes shining.

“I’m actually a wizard.”

She gasps, delighted. A smile blooms across her face so fast it nearly knocks the air out of me.

“I knew it!” she squeals.

“Yeah, you did,” I grin back. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

She looks like she’s about to burst with thousands of questions. Eyes wide and shining with a special curiosity. I just hope her parent doesn’t murder me for fueling these wizard dreams that she has.

“Are you friends with Harry?”

I try my best to suppress a warm chuckle, but I can’t help the smile that shines through.

“Harry Potter?” She nodded so hard at my response that I worried her head might pop off. “Well… I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s mostly busy these days. But yes, we’ve met.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, and this time, I couldn’t subdue the fond chuckles that her reactions got out of me.

“Can you show me more magic?”

I smile, helpless to deny her. “Alright. One more, but you gotta sit down for this one.” I say, holding up a finger like I’m laying down a rule neither of us will actually follow.

She hurries to a small chair in the kid tables. Wiggles in place, hands clasped in front of her like she’s bracing for something incredible.

I reach into my pocket again, fingers brushing against the familiar coolness of the coin.

“But you have to pay very close attention, okay? This one’s advanced wizardry.”

She nods like she’s preparing for a test at Hogwarts.

“We have, the very same coin from earlier,” I move the coin to the center of my palm, “But if I place it right here… and you keep your eyes on it…”

I curl my fingers over it, give them a little dramatic wiggle.

“This simple quarter will just…”

Disappear. Or—it’s supposed to.

Everything was going fine. The coin’s in my palm. My fingers close around it. I make the usual gesture—slight misdirection, a practiced flick of the wrist, the classic illusion.

Except this time… something goes wrong. There’s a soft metallic clink followed by—

“Ow!”

Not me. Behind me.

The little girl’s eyes go wide, delighted at first by the trick. But then her head snaps toward the voice—the one behind me, the one that just yelped in surprise.

And just like that… the magic disappears.

“Mommy!” She takes off running.

I stand and turn instinctively, ready to reassure the parent—let her know her daughter’s safe, that I was only trying to help. Maybe even apologize for the quarter that, somehow, made impact.

But then I see her.

And for a moment… I forget what I was about to say.

She’s standing there, breathless, eyes wide with relief, and the softest kind of panic still clinging to her expression. The kind that says she’s been searching—not just through the aisles, but through every possible worst-case scenario in her head.

And yet, despite the tension in her posture, despite the flurry of emotion on her face...

She’s—God, she’s beautiful.

Like something from another lifetime. Light catching in her hair. Autumn caught in her breath.

An angel.

I’ve always thrived on routine. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, go fulfill today’s duties… It wasn’t anything exciting, but it was dependable. Familiar.

That all changed when I had her.

My Madelyn.

Now, my mornings depend on a dozen unpredictable factors. Maybe Maddie wakes up before I do and cuts my desperately needed seven hours of sleep short. Maybe she had a nightmare. Maybe she wet the bed. Or—more often than not—she’s just too excited for the day and bursts out of sleep like it’s a celebration.

It’s exhausting.

But she’s my entire world. My sun. My moon. And I’d sacrifice every ounce of sleep or peace of mind a thousand times over if it meant making her life feel safe and full of joy.

Still, we do have one day of the week that rarely breaks pattern.

Saturdays.

Every Saturday, for as long as I can remember, I wake up early, make pancakes, get dressed, and head to the library—the one place where time slows down, where stories open like doorways and the world feels just a little quieter.

Bringing Maddie into that routine was surprisingly easy. I started taking her when she was just a month old. I would’ve done it sooner, but I was still figuring things out—how to be a single mother to a newborn. Just surviving those first few days was its own kind of story.

She loves our Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning, once the pancakes are ready, I head to her room—and without fail, she wakes up with the biggest smile.

She always knows it’s Saturday because of the smell. Like clockwork, the scent of warm batter reaches her tiny nose, and her whole body just springs to life. She throws off her covers, races into the kitchen barefoot and beaming, already asking for her syrup before I can even plate the first stack.

This Saturday morning was different.

I should’ve known things would go wrong the moment I decided to step even slightly out of routine.

“Good morning, princess,” I sing, beaming as I step into her bedroom—blueberry pancakes in hand. “Brought you breakfast in bed. Aren’t you a spoiled little princess today?”

Her face lights up like it always does. “Good morning, Mommy!”

She spots the pancakes, and her eyes sparkle. She bounces a little beneath her blankets, already reaching for the plate. “Blueberry?”

I nod, smiling. “Well, I know how much you like them, so I decided to change things up,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Alright, eat up. The library’s waiting for us.”

She hummed as she ate, little legs swinging off the edge of the bed, syrup smeared near the corner of her mouth. It was such a small thing, but I remember thinking—this is what happiness feels like. A plate of blueberry pancakes and a five-year-old who thinks I hung the stars.

We left a little later than usual.

Just ten minutes. That’s all.

She insisted on picking out her own outfit—a striped shirt and a pink coat—and I let her. Another tiny detour from routine. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous.

The nearest library, which we were used to visiting, was a three-story building. It was old, but they kept it clean. The library had a huge variety of books, from Children’s books to cookbooks.

It was just as it always was. Quiet. Warm. A kind of sacred.

We walked in together. I remember holding the door open while she skipped inside.

I remember telling her—“Stay close, baby.”

she nodding.

And then…Then I blinked. I looked up from the shelves. And she was gone.

I’ve never lost my Maddie before. She’s a curious child, and she loves to wander off on adventures. She probably inherited that from me. This need to find whatever’s glowing. I understand it. We’re moths, both of us. Fragile, flitting things, always blinded by the glow, unaware that it might hurt us.

But I’ve gotten better at spotting the danger.

At least… when it comes to her.

I watch everything. Every step she takes. Every handrail she climbs. Every crack in the sidewalk I gently guide her around. Not even the tiniest fruit fly gets near her without me noticing. I make sure of it. I always make sure.

So how did I miss this?

how did I lose her?

“Maddie?” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maddie, where are you, sweetheart?”

No reply.

Just silence. Just shelves. Just the sound of someone flipping a page somewhere far away.

I couldn’t see her.

I couldn’t hear her.

Panic bloomed in my chest, sharp and fast. I started moving—too quickly to think, too slowly to matter. I scanned every row, every corner of the first floor, spinning in half-circles, eyes darting, throat dry.

Think. You have to think. Breathe.

I forced myself to stop. Just for a second. Inhaled. Shaky. Exhaled. Useless.

That’s when I saw it.

A sign hanging above the staircase in soft, colorful letters:

Children’s Section – Second Floor.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken stairs that fast in my life.

I practically leapt two steps at a time, nearly tripping—twice—but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My heart was pounding too hard, my breath caught somewhere between a prayer and a scream.

As soon as I reached the top, I heard it. Laughter. Soft, bubbling giggles echoing from the back corner of the floor.

Maddie. My sun.

I followed the sound like it was oxygen, rounding the shelves toward the children’s section—and there she was. She was fine. Smiling. Whole. Lit up with joy I hadn’t seen since breakfast.

I was so blinded by the sight of her—so completely caught in the gravity of that relief—that I didn’t see the small, shiny object flying straight at my face.

Thunk.

“Ow!” I yelped, instinctively pressing a hand to my forehead where the coin made impact.

“Mommy!” I blinked, still holding my forehead, and finally looked up to see my daughter running full speed to me.

I dropped my hand and opened my arms just in time, catching her as she flung herself into me.

The force of her little body nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs—and I didn’t care. I clutched her to my chest, my hands smoothing over her hair, her back, her arms—like I needed to physically confirm every part of her was still here.

Still mine.

“I was looking for you,” she mumbled into my shoulder.

“I know, baby,” I whispered. “I know. I’m here.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and only then—only then—did I let myself breathe. Let myself relax and look around with a clear mind.

And that’s when I saw him.

A man—tall, gangly, cardigan-ed, and completely mortified. His wide brown eyes darted from the coin in the floor, to my face and back again like he wasn’t sure which deserved more immediate attention.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t—I mean, the coin wasn’t… is your forehead okay?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He reached down and took the quarter in his hands.

He was nervous. The poor thing couldn’t even get a full thought out without stuttering or switching pitch. He looked like a deer caught in headlights—in the most endearing way possible.

I adjusted Maddie in my arms and slowly rose to my feet, brushing a hand over the spot where the coin had hit.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m okay.”

“Mommy, that’s Spencer. He’s a wizard, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.” Maddie’s little voice cut in, muffled by my shoulder. Her tiny hands clung to my shirt like this secret was sacred. Like this moment mattered.

“Is he now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The poor man looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink, and he kept shifting like he wanted to disappear behind the nearest bookshelf. He was clearly mortified for making my daughter believe he was an actual wizard.

Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she might explode from sheer joy.

“He did magic, Mommy!” she beamed. “He made the coin disappear! And he’s friends with Harry Potter!”

I looked at him again—this tall, blushing stranger in a cardigan, holding a rogue quarter like it was evidence from a crime scene—and for the first time since the panic hit…

I smiled. No, not just that. I giggled.

“He’s friends with Harry Potter, sweetheart?”

“Yeah!” Maddie chirped, her little head nodding furiously against my shoulder. “He told me so!”

I glanced down at Maddie, still glowing with excitement in my arms, then back at him—this stranger with a guilty expression and a coin pinched nervously between his fingers.

“So you’ve met the famous Harry Potter?” I asked softly, more amused than anything else.

His mouth opened… then closed again. He looked completely out of his depth, like he wasn’t sure whether to defend himself or disappear behind the nearest bookcase.

“I… may have implied we’d met,” he said, almost apologetically. “In a—fictional sense.”

“Fictional,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes flicking anywhere but at me. “She asked if I knew him, and I just couldn’t say no. Plus, it calmed her down.”

My heart twisted, gently. Of course it did.

I crouched to set Maddie down, brushing a hand over her curls. “Don’t wander off, sweetheart.”

She nodded seriously—too seriously for someone who just believed she’d befriended a wizard—but she stayed put, her wide eyes still bouncing between me and the man standing awkwardly by the bookshelves.

When I stood, he was watching me. Not in a weird way. Just… watching. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say something, or leave before he embarrassed himself further.

I finally broke the silence.

“Thank you,” I said. “For keeping her calm. And for the magic tricks. Even if one of them involved hitting a complete stranger in the face.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my god—yes. I’m really sorry about that. That was not part of the trick. I swear it usually disappears. Like, away from people.”

I smiled again, gentler this time. “I believe you.”

A beat passed.

“You’ve got a very brave little girl.”

My chest squeezed.

“Yeah,” I whispered, looking over at Maddie, who was now spinning slowly in place, humming to herself like nothing had happened.

“She really is.”

I looked back again, and of course—despite being told not to wander—she had already drifted toward the toy shelf, her tiny fingers trailing along the edge of a plastic castle.

Moth. Always drawn to whatever glows.

He hadn’t stopped staring.

He kept looking at me like he wanted to tear me open—not in a violent way, but in that quiet, curious way. Like he needed to understand what made me me. Like he was trying to read my soul the way other people read books.

I hadn’t even noticed—Not until I turned my gaze back to him, and when I did, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

There was something behind his eyes—something searching. Gentle, but sharp. Not the kind of stare meant to intimidate. No, it was worse. It was the kind that saw. Saw too much.

The kind of look that made you feel like maybe you weren’t a collection of masks and moments. Like maybe you were a story he’d just opened to the first page.

It made my skin warm.

I looked away first. Not because it was uncomfortable—But because it wasn’t.

Because I didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at me like that. Like I was worth reading.

“So… she read the Harry Potter series?” he asked, breaking the silence.

His voice jolted me back to reality. I blinked a couple times, trying to shake myself free from whatever trance those hazel eyes had pulled me into.

“Has she read—? No, no. She still struggles a bit with reading. The only books she’s managed on her own so far are Frog and Toad Are Friends and The Tales of Oliver Pig.”

His lips twitched at that, like he was trying not to smile too hard.

“Do you mind me asking… how old is she?”

“She’s turning five in a couple weeks.”

He blinked. “And she’s reading at a first-grade level? That’s impressive.”

I smiled, soft and proud. “She’s always been a quick learner. Loves stories. I think it’s how she makes sense of the world.”

He nodded, like he understood that. Like maybe he did the same.

“So I take it she’s only seen the Harry Potter movies then?” he asked, circling back to his original question.

“Oh—no. I read to her a lot. We actually went through the entire Harry Potter series last summer.”

His eyebrows lifted, impressed. “All seven?”

“All seven,” I nodded. “It took us a few months, but she was completely obsessed. She didn’t want me to put the books down, not even to sleep. Had a million questions. Wanted to know why Harry had to live in the cupboard, how the time-turner worked, what butterbeer tastes like.”

He chuckled softly. “She sounds like someone I would’ve been friends with at her age.”

“You read a lot as a kid?”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to answer, but because he seemed to be sorting through too many memories at once.

“Pretty much all I did,” he said eventually. “Books were easier. Made more sense than people did.”

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t just a fun fact, but a truth he’d learned the hard way.

I didn’t push. I just nodded, quietly understanding.

“Maddie’s the same,” I offered. “She talks to books like they talk back.”

He smiled at that. “That’s the best kind of kid.”

I was about to reply—to agree with the praise of my daughter, to maybe say something more—but then she came barreling back toward us, beaming.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look!” She held up a Rapunzel doll.

“Can I have her? Please? She has real brushable hair!” Maddie clutched the box to her chest like she’d just been entrusted with state secrets.

I chuckle, “That’s yarn, sweetie. You can’t brush it.”

“Can I have her? Please, Mommy?”

I looked at him, then at my daughter’s wide, pleading eyes. The panic from earlier was still fading in my bones, but the joy on her face grounded me again.

“Fine,” I said with a knowing smile. “Let’s check her out and ask if she’s ready for a new home.”

Maddie squealed and ran ahead toward the counter.

He straightened, glancing at me with the softest grin.

“She’s something else,” he said.

I met his eyes, the warmth still lingering between us.

“She really is.”

He smiled—soft, sheepish. A little unsure.

There was a pause.

My eyes flicked between him, the floor, and Maddie standing at the counter, rocking on her heels with the raggedy doll held up against her chest.

I didn’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he spoke to her, so tender.

Maybe it was the way he panicked when I first approached them—all flustered and apologetic, tripping over his words like he hadn’t spoken out loud in days.

Maybe it was his eyes—big, toffee-colored, and far too curious. The way he kept looking at me like I was a puzzle he genuinely wanted to solve.

Despite everything in me that usually resisted introducing new people into our lives, I felt it—that pull.

I wanted to know him.

“I should get going,” he said, his voice low, like he didn’t really want to.

I nodded, even though something in me quietly hoped he’d stay just a little longer.

“Of course. Thank you again. For everything.”

He looked down, then back at me, like he was still trying to memorize something.

“It was… nice meeting you. Both of you.”

“It was nice meeting you too.”

He took a step back, then paused.

“I hope she keeps believing in magic,” he said, glancing toward Maddie with something almost wistful in his eyes.

“She will,” I said, smiling. “She has a good reason to.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Just smiled once more—brighter this time—before turning and walking away.

And even though I knew I’d just met him… I wanted to call out after him. Maybe invite him to eat with us, I had the pretense of him keeping my daughter safe. It would be so easy, just go, “hey wait!”

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because despite having every reason to call out to him, to try and integrate him into my life, the fear in me always ended up eating my intentions up.

Still. I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last time I saw him..

I stayed still for a moment, just watching him leave.

It wasn’t until he disappeared from view that I finally moved—walking to the counter where my daughter was waiting, still cradling her new doll like a prize.

“Where did Spencer go?” she asked, as soon as I appeared beside her.

Spencer. So that's his name.

It fit him, somehow. A little old-fashioned, a little too soft around the edges for someone who carried so much weight in his eyes. But now that she’d said it out loud, I couldn’t imagine him being called anything else.

“He had to leave, sweetheart.”

Her little face fell just slightly. “Will we see him again? I want to see more magic.”

I crouched beside her, brushing her hair back behind one ear as I pulled her into my arms. The weight of the day finally caught up to me—settling in my chest like something too big to name.

“Who knows, Maddie,” I murmured, holding her tight. “Maybe someday.”

I pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

“I need you to promise me something, okay?”

She blinked up at me, her Rapunzel doll dangling loosely from one arm.

“Don’t ever wander off like that again. Spencer was kind, and he kept you safe. But not everyone is like him. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

She nodded, serious now. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“I know, baby,” I whispered, holding her again. “I just need you safe.”

“I promise, Mommy.” She murmured.

“Thank you, honey.” I kissed her temple. “Now… let’s buy you this doll and go get something to eat.”

She grinned, her earlier worry forgotten, clutching Rapunzel to her chest like she’d just made a new friend.

We walked out hand-in-hand, the late morning sun spilling through the library doors as they shut behind us.

And even though I told myself it was just another Saturday…

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else had quietly begun.

Next Chapter

[mac-ann-cheese]

Rusameamerusharumachispacegays-- okay, I'll stop ( ˙꒳​˙ )

Cold War era-centered sketches with some headcanons below the cut. The post with many words. You don't have to read all of my yapping, I just had those hcs written down in my notes for like fuckknows how long (-_-;)

I think there are already plenty of beautifully written interpretations; however, I still want to give my own opinion on that. Additionally, it is important to note that everything below is silly and whimsical; please do not take it all too seriously (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)

After WWII, both went absolutely batshit crazy, however in diff.. styles, I guess, so yeah yum yum. The war literally affected and changed the way they viewed peace as a state of life.

They both believed too deeply in their vision of an ideal world. Therefore, cutting the globe in half (almost, I should say - a buffer zone in the form of the Non-Aligned Movement squeezed in between), the regions, the countries, and turning everything into a "better" version was the only solution to regulate their loud and clunky clash of ideologies.

One more side note: I need to say that I tolerate the interpretation that both of these blorbos could not actually control the escalation of, basically, everything, and it was the government, yadayadayada. However, it takes away the drama...... The spiceeee..... the friends to lovers to enemies to lovers to enemies to ..... I mean, whatever tickles your pickle, I don't shit on others hcs. I am just clearing this up, and I need to provide an explanation for everything, as I am neurodivergent and do not want to be misunderstood.

Now, back to the scheduled programming!

Before the CMC in 1962, Al and Ivan didn't fully recognize the consequences of their actions. The world was their playground, the balance of power — the swingset for only going up. The rest were left to sit on a powder keg and wait for it to explode. After the crisis (or more so, the reality check), some rudiments of awareness began to grow. It was the first time of being in centimeters (inches, if you prefer) close from falling into the pit of doom. Everything they do has so much influence that it will not pass without a trace, and it is necessary to somehow solve this and negotiate: set the boundaries of what is permitted, bargain on terms, and still try to somehow take the invisible first place in influence over the world.

Regarding the questionable rationale behind creating nuclear weapons:

If Alfred had the bomb, nobody would even dare to start any new war. He would become the new guarantor of peace, but it turned against him. Security based on something so destructive as nuclear weaponry becomes senseless, it only makes others worry to find their way on creating or obtaining the made-up security. A difficult dilemma, a no-win scenario, only leads to a weakening of the existing peace. You can never create security based on someone else's insecurity.

Aaaand this is what actually happened.

Welp (¯ . ¯;)

Alfred (until I guess the 1963s? Until the regulation of nuclear weapon processes and disarmament, that's for sure. The creation of the IAEA put him at ease, but only for a short period of time after) began to experience severe paranoia. I think that nations don't feel the passage of time like humans do; they get used to not noticing how the years flow by. However, at that time, every minute of thinking and guessing Alfred fully experienced.

A short and quick excursion into political science 101 to understand the context! Power, in a fairly broad sense, is a way of influencing people (its scope of concepts may include manipulation, influence, persuasion, force, etc.). Basically, there are two types of power: over and to. But why do we need power? For decision-making. The future is always uncertain and full of risks, and its forecasting is based on past experiences and is still not ideal. Therefore, people relieve themselves of responsibility for the future and transfer it to those who will make decisions for them. for those who have the power. Perhaps a fair question will arise about pluralism and democracy (polyarchy), but in these cases, power is present among several collective groups, and their decisions affect different areas of problems, where conflicts of interest may arise.

Decision making = responsibility = power = some control over the future.

Ahem.

So, Alfred doesn't know what to expect, he can't prevent something from happening. The only thing he could do was to react, and that drove him up the wall. He is powerless and is grasping at straws. Espionage was the optimal solution and the best way to anticipate the actions of the opposing side. He would call Ivan at night (for his time zone) to check, he didn't even need him to say something. Hearing Ivan breathe through the phone meant that he was not planning something against him as he found time to answer at an awful late hour. However, neither of them wanted to end everything with the threats they made to each other. It would have been pointless because no one would have had to prove anything. They were racing each other to prove who was cooler in the simplest sense. Simply dropping a nuke meant too many unforeseen risks for them to cover the losses. So Alfred and Ivan raised the stakes until they could calculate that the losses on both sides would be the same or terrific for both of them, and thus no one would "win", in other words, they preferred the potential threat of mutually assured destruction than the actual action (for further details on this topic I highly recommend checking out Thomas Schelling's "The strategy of conflict").

However, they have physically dispatched each other millions of times in the most sophisticated ways, cause woah magical personification's regeneration.

Ok, folks, the next bit is freaky, achtung!!!!

As Amy Allen notes on Foucault's conception of power, it operates in and through the practice of confession both to subject individuals to the injunction to tell the truth about their sexuality and to enable them to take up the position of sexual subject (Amy Allen, The Power of Feminist Theory: Domination, Resistance, Solidarity, 1999, p. 36). The point is that without possessing power on a planetary scale, they wanted to have power over each other in the most human (or even animalistic) form. To fuck, or not to be fucked, that is the question.... The feeling of having influence over someone else's body could have restored inner self-confidence (which was not there at that time). Ehh, I actually recommend for those who are interested in that just read Michel Foucault's work, for example, the history of sexuality. But they never got to the point of actual action, so to speak; everything slid into violence.

I don't think there was a dramatic breakup. It was unnecessary at that time. They have lost connection with each other in the whirlpool of events. No "ex" stage, their relationship froze in time, waiting for the spring (omg, she did the thing).

When there is no love, the search for power and control fills the vacuum.

This is precisely where the problem lies: they both blame each other for giving up on their relationship. Too stubborn to work it out.

Honestly, yes, they would reminisce about the time spent together on very quiet and lonely evenings. Perhaps with a hint of nostalgia. Only for them uncontrollably hate themselves for feeling weak.

And suddenly, the world's most annoying superpowers sort of calmed down in the 80s. The historical context and reasoning can be found in textbooks. But perhaps Alfred's mania phase went into remission, and perhaps Ivan felt that everything was going to end (for him). Perhaps both saw the change or at least let the thought that they might change, if not for the better, just change somehow.