#We'd be fired within a month

[electricdragon99]

Anyone in the UK fancy signing a petition to prevent MPs from sitting in the role without attending Parliament or ever meeting with their constituents?

Petition: Make MPs who are absent from their constituency and Parliament subject to recall:

#Nadine Dorries resigning then refusing to step down and then turning out to have not spoken in Parliament since last year #Whilst still claiming her salary #Imagine if anyone else tried that?! #We'd be fired within a month #nadine dorries #uk politics

[riaarivic]

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary  Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗  Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado. 

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm. 

She spoke korean. 

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

 Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old. 

And she looked like him.

Too much like him. 

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.”  Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler. 

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them. 

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve. 

But your daughter, she was three. 

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye. 

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy. 

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you. 

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules. 

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win. 

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch. 

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session. 

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better” 

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job. 

Their director was unforgiving. 

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin. 

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head. 

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact. 

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend. 

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation. 

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes. 

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this. 

You had to. 

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time. 

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside. 

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts. 

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you. 

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2020💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was one. 

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana. 

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day. 

Hana was smart, too smart for her age. 

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house. 

She wanted answers to her questions. 

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop. 

And she was obsessed with it. 

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen. 

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him. 

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one. 

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids. 

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air. 

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough. 

They were tired. 

They felt like nothing was working in their favor. 

Some of the members wanted a break. 

Some of them wanted to keep going. 

He had to remain unbiased. 

You knew how unfair it was. 

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ:  meet me upstairs. studio. 

You knew what that meant. 

He wanted to fuck the frustration away. 

And you would be lying if  you said you didn’t want to. 

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless. 

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio. 

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too. 

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud. 

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you. 

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking. 

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs. 

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system. 

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now. 

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet. 

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor. 

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently. 

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on. 

It was something much more complicated. 

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

A Battleground.

The room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

Right after the briefing ended he had dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

He was a sound man now. Not the youg man almost teenager that would have rushed into conclusions. First he needed to make his own research.

Have a few conversations with people.

Because he would never outlive the embarrasment if he was wrong.

But, all Namjoon could find was that Hana was your daughter and not your husband's.

And now you were alone for the first time in Three years, the silence was deafening, the unspoken history between you threatening to consume the room.

In the past, when you were alone with him, confessions of love had been whispered like forbidden promises against your lips in a conference room.

Just like the one you were in.

Today, his gaze was intense, his movements calculated, as if he were dissecting the reality before him. The little girl playing outside in your office seemed like a mirage, a cruel joke that fate had played on both of you.

Namjoon's stare bore into you, and the atmosphere crackled with the spark of four years of unsaid words. Finally, the tension shattered like glass as he spat out,

"Is she mine?"

His voice, sharp and accusatory, slashed through the heavy air.

A small, bitter part of you considered lying, but the futility of it hung in the air.

He knew, yet he chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," your voice strained, attempting to retain a semblance of control. "Her name is Hana Lee."

Two heartbeats passed, revealing a Namjoon you no longer recognized.

The man before you had become a diplomat, his mind working to carefully choose his words, concealing emotions you once knew he wore on his sleeve.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that, long ago when you worked with them.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

Another heartbeat passed and a spark of genuine emotion broke through when the reality of his daughter's existence sank in.

"Lee?"

His voice began to fill with an anger simmering beneath the surface, like molten lava fighting its way to the top of a volcano. "My husband’s last name," you retorted, your tone flat, a facade of control slipping away.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you expected to.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Namjoon's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. “Did you expect a wedding invite?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.” he growled the last sentence through his teeth.

So much for calm and collected.

"Oh, but I tried," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. Only to be warmly welcomed by your mother and Sejin with an envelope full of money and the threat to take her from me. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't remember. Let me refresh your memory, shall we?" Bitterness laced your words. "You sent your mother and your manager to tell me that having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' that you were so very sorry and told me to disappear"

He was about to speak but you didn't let him. All the things you have wanted to say for four years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Anger surged within you. "Riding the horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

You didn't know when you started to shout and now you couldn't stop. You wanted him to hurt as much as you were. "You told them to tell me all that. Because you didn't have the balls to say it right to my face"

"Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "“That didn’t… I didn’t... I would never have done that."

“You didn't do what?” You turned away, unable to look at him. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon. She's so smart and kind. Even when she feels like there's a missing part from her"

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as his finger touched your wrist, sending electric shockwaves through your body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore.” Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. 'I hope you understand,” you said, mocking his voice.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away?" He was shouting now too.

And he was close, too close to you now. You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close to him you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't breaking for him.

That you didn't miss his eyes.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand" your voice cracked filled with sadness.

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

In a heartbeat anger left his body, and he was filled with the weight of a shared past. Everything was too much, this was too much and again his mask fell just for you.

He lifted his hand to grab your wrist, the small contact of his skin with yours felt like fire runnig trough your veins.

"I loved you, and I always have," he confessed.

The room hung in tumultuous silence, the weight of past wounds and the rawness of the present colliding in a clash of emotions.

You were about to respond when a small knock echoed through the room.

The knock on the door startled both of you, a temporary interruption to the emotional storm that raged in the room. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy?" Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident "Mr. Rapmonster. why are you here?". You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, and she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend, and we were talking" you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon. The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features. "Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

"When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe"

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello there! First of all I am so, SO grateful for all the love this story is getting. It really means the world to me. Sincerely Thank you. With that beign said I want to leave a few notes for context and clarification. 1. This is a work of fiction, even if it is inspired by real events and real people. I will take creative licenses to make the storyline make sense. So, some things will be different as it happened IRL.

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2021 'The present'

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #bts au #bts namjoon #bts fic #namjoon smut #namjoon #rm #bts rm

[takemehomefromnarnia]

10 years of Rainbow Direction!

Exactly 10 years ago a girl named Danny printed out this rainbow poster and took it to the first concert of One Direction's Where We Are tour:

Anniversaries are always a bit arbitrary, and Rainbow Direction's was always a hard one to pin down.

This blog is just a day or two short of celebrating 11 years and without it Rainbow Direction would have never existed, because the people who were at the start of it would never have met, but its purpose and setup were entirely different and RD was still far from being developed.

The suggestions that eventually took form in "Project Rainbow Direction" were first submitted to the blog in late 2013. The first brainstorm between Kat, Li and Ellis about it, and further strategy talks with Ed and Molly took place in the early months of 2014. The project was announced in February. Haven and Red submitted their winning poster designs in March. Amy developed a logo and opened a merch store for us in early April.

While we've often referred to that midnight brainstorm on a cold January day as the origin of rainbow direction, that was only its conception. We don't even have a record of which date it was. We could also have chosen any of the more pin-downable dates: announcing the project, announcing the poster contest winners, opening the store. But really, all that Rainbow Direction was at those moments, was an idea, a plan, the hope that we had that it was within our, the fandom's power, to change something for the better for the LGBTQIA+ fans in it.

For months all of us, and especially Li, had worked tirelessly to encourage people to sign up and commit to bringing a rainbow poster to a show.

And then the big moment was there. First day of tour. The moment of truth. Would the people we'd encouraged actually have the courage to take a rainbow to a show, and stick it up in the air? Would it matter to people? Would it actually change something?

10 years on, we know that it did. So much more than we could ever have imagined.

But that was was anything but self-evident at the time. We had no idea. We nervously monitored the wwa tag and the blogs of those who had signed up, and then, after a few days, finally this report appeared. Danny from Bogota shared the first Rainbow Direction fan report.

I think if you'd ask any of us who were here at the time, they'd remember fondly how knowing that someone had actually done it, something happened in the real world, and if one person had done it, more would, how that sparked a fire in our hearts. A ball of warm feelings, not quite the same feeling as before. Before, there had been buzz and excitement and drive, but this, this felt different. Hope. A sense of the personal strength, and collective power, that could come from this if we could make it grow. It took a lot of hard work from a lot of people who committed themselves tirelessly to the campaign, but grow it did.

Thanks to Danny. Thanks to all of you who at some point or other, crafted something rainbow at home, took a rainbow to a show, put a rainbow on your blog, showed that you believed in your own power to change something, and showed the LGBTQI+ people in the fandom that they mattered, and that you cared.

It has been quite the roller coaster ride. As the coordinating group, we've had many ups and downs, and by now, for most of us, our attention has been drawn away from the fandom by our real lives and new pursuits. But regularly, when one of us checks in and sees the rainbows at one of the boys' shows, we share, revel, and sit amazed at how this thing, that once took so much effort on our part to get one, two, three people per show signed up, has grown into a regular staple, with people spontaneously taking it upon themselves to organize for entire venues to light up in a coordinated rainbow pattern, to design new posters and rainbow outfits, or to hand out hundreds of mini rainbow flags in the audience. This community has taken it up as its collective responsibility - let's get those rainbows out. How beautiful is that?! You are all so so amazing.

Thank you, you beautiful people, for becoming a part of this, for making it your own, for making it better, for carrying it forward, into the future.

So long!

#rainbow direction #one direction #rainbow project #harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #liam payne #zayn malik

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for how I handle a messy kitchen?

Hi tumblr! I (f, 23) live with 5 other people (M, 20-24) in a student house. (i did not see the house or know who lived in it before I signed the lease, I was desperate for housing in an awful market and I live abroad so couldn't see it before hand) I've lived here for approximately six months and will live here for at five more because I can't break my lease and wouldn't have anywhere to move even if I could. Generally they're nice enough, and if it wasn't for the kitchen I think we'd get along fine.

The house's layout is done so I walk out and immediately see the kitchen. (I'm off a small laundry room to the right of the kitchen, while everyone else doesn't have to pass through the kitchen to leave the house) This means that I am always angered when I see the mess left behind with the knowledge that no one will clean it up unless I do it, and I see this every day.

It is always dirty. Dirty dishes cover the kitchen table (and would cover the counter if I didn't move all of them). Dirty pans cover the stove top, which is orange and brown because of the build up. The floors and counters are equally covered in crumbs, bits of food, etc that no one wipes off or sweeps. (if they do sweep, they don't throw it out and just leave it in a pile on the floor) Don't get me started on the trash cans that are always overflowing and never taken out unless I do it. Everything is disgusting and no one cleans it but me.

I have had endless breakdowns over this kitchen. The first month I was here I wouldn't cook because it made my cry to look at it. I came back after my holiday break a month ago to find it covered in dishes and disgusting to a point that I sobbed in my room and begged my mom to let me come home. All of my things are kept in my room, even when they're drying, and things are cleaned within a few hours of use.

I have asked the guys to clean up after themselves endless times, verbally and over texts no one responds to. I've cleaned the kitchen three times the best I can just to try and get them to clean their own dishes. Each time the kitchen returns to how it was before with dishes everywhere, the stove orange, and the counters nasty. I have tried putting the dishes into a box so we can still use the table but they spill over with no one cleaning them. Nothing has changed, and the last straw today is after someone set off a fire alarm (again) and someone had dropped a thing of spices all over the floor without cleaning it up on top of the table covered in trash and dishes.

No, I don't know who exactly is doing it but I have my suspicions. None of the boys will do anything and they just sort of nod and agree with my complaints (or complain with me) without doing anything about it. They defend each other and I have like no allies in the house, especially against the one who's sexist in a way I can't call out.

I am at a loss of what to do. I've thought about a group cleaner, which I'm looking into and a few others have expressed interest in, but I don't trust they'll pay me back for it and I'm not paying by myself for it. The alternative I'm thinking about right now is throwing out or hiding (not sure where) the dishes so they'll have to use dishware they can throw away. I know it's an asshole move, but I've asked and made warnings. I'm more wondering if it would be JAH or YTA.

Please, if ANYONE has any ideas share. I have no idea what to do anymore and I don't want to make the next five months that I can't move out of miserable. But I need to be able to leave my room and cook without wanting to destroy the house.

WIBTA for resorting to hiding or throwing away dishware and utensils so they have to use disposable trash so the house will be somewhat cleaner?

(and if I am, anyone have ANY ideas on how else to handle it?)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[thefruitiestofbois]

We just needed time- pt1

"Listen up everyone!" Maria shouts, her back to the east gate entrance, holding a log book in her hands. The heat of the morning sun blistering onto my skin with the only relief a slight breeze swaying its way through Jackson. "I'm calling out pairs for today's patrols." I sling my rifle onto my shoulder before leading a horse out to the stables, stopping just before Ellie, Jesse and Dina. I'm extra cautious not to get even a millimetre into Ellie's peripheral vision, in fact I wouldn't even dare meeting those pale green eyes that held so much disdain towards me. As Maria calls out the names, my body freezes as she calls out mine and Ellie's names. Oh fuck me.

Shoving supplies into my backpack I jog over to Ellie, with my horse trailing behind, and she's adjusting her saddle and the two of us are the last ones left to head off.

"Wanna slow us down any longer or are you actually ready to go now?" Annoyance evident in her voice as she rolls her eyes and jumps up onto Shimmer. I mumble an apology- like a fucking coward. I mentally kick myself as I tail behind her and head off onto our route.

//

I kneel down, picking the white daisies from the ground bordering the stream, my horse a small distance away behind me. Ellie had gone with Shimmer on the alternative route, the plan being to meet up where the paths converged. It was safe enough, only minutes of distance by ride away from each other at any given point on the two paths in the woods, so we'd both be able to hear any struggle.

Flowers in one hand, I use the other to wipe off the thin layer of sweat off my forehead. This sun was not letting up, but there was only a few hours left of the sun this high in the sky. My ears perk up at the sound of an animal- probably a rabbit or a squirrel- snaking through the tall grass behind me. I dismiss it and turn to stroll down the path back into the woods and onto the converging routes. I remember at the start of spring, once all the snow and ice had melted away, there was no way to this stream unless you waded through the tall greenery but months of patrols, all of which probably had the same idea of seeing the stream and surrounding scenery out of curiosity, had worn down a path where the tall grass was replaced by shorter blades or patches of mud.

The decision to dismiss my instincts came back to bite me in the ass. Well a runner was coming to bite me- hopefully not in the ass. The achy cries gave it away, giving me time to evade it flung its body at me, jumping out from the greenery surrounding the worn down path. I have my gun trained on the straggler within seconds and I fire. It lurches downwards, grappling for my feet and I miss the shot. Daises still in my hand I leap backwards, tripping on a rock and this gives the runner the perfect opportunity to clutch onto my ankle, its teeth and vein stricken face ready to bite. Even with the wind knocked out of me from my fall, the adrenaline surges through me and I drag myself backwards, attempting and failing to kick away the straggler.

I keep slumping backwards and kicking it away, its cries almost washing away with the sound of the rushing stream as I get back to where I originally was. I deliver a kick with a brutish force in the centre of its face and I get the precious few seconds I need to aim my gun and shoot. The bullet lodges burrows into the space between the eyebrows- or wherever the eyebrows would have been if this thing was still human- and a deep red circle gushes out blood. Bullseye. I go to mentally high five myself before that raspy voice I hate yells at me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ellie rushes off of Shimmer and storms in front of me as I clamber to my feet, the daisies long forgotten and flattened on the floor with blood splattered on them. "I was waiting for you at the end of the routes and what were you doing, taking in the fucking view?"

"Nothing is wrong with me, it was one straggler and I had it. It's no big deal." I argue back, trying with whatever declining patience I have left for this girl. Ellie has had it out for me since day one. I can't hang out with Jesse and Dina, my own fucking friends, when she's there otherwise she throws a fit. Why? Fuck knows. All she does is throw disapproving glares at me or send venom seeped scoffs my way.

"Not a big deal? What if you had been bit? Then I'd be the one dragging your pathetic dead ass to Jackson." "I'm not going to die if I take a break for a few minutes. I am more than capable of handling myself." I say that last sentence with a firmness my tone isn't used to when talking to Ellie. Scratch that.My voice isn't even used to talking to Ellie anyway. It's always been her yelling at me for looking her way or giving me shit for 'not focusing' on patrols. Hell I can't even eat my dinner in peace without her making a comment.

"You think just because you're a semi-decent shot that you're suddenly invincible and-"

"I'm not semi-decent, I'm good. In fact, I'm probably the better shot out of all of us." I interject and she laughs in disbelief. She marches closer and she's close enough I can practically feel the anger radiating off her body.

"I'll get them to write that on your gravestone. Famous last words of the world's biggest idiot." Fuck patience.

"Alright what the fuck is your problem?" She takes a step back, almost shocked that I finally have the balls to call her out. Her jaw even sharper now that she's spitting her next words through gritted teeth.

"My problem is that your arrogance is going to get one of us killed." She jabs a finger at me with the same intensity of hatred that her eyes glare at me with before continuing. "All you care about is yourself. You think you're brilliant at everything and that you can just waltz in here and take everything and everyone I've worked so hard for just because you can." What the fuck is she talking about? I didn't take anything. How could I do anything to her without even uttering more than a greeting to her?

"I didn't take anything from you. Where is all of this coming-"

"You took Joel from me!" She cries and her voice splinters, all her hatred intensified to the point where it rattles through me. I swallow hard as all the puzzle pieces of Ellie Williams fit perfectly into place. Joel had died a year ago, maybe a bit longer now but I can't remember exactly. She's right. I can't even deny it. Joel Miller died because of me. Because he saved me.

The blizzards that winter were extreme. The wind screeched around us, piercing our eardrums. Anything less than a loud yell was inaudible. It all happened so quick and bloody. I remember tumbling to the floor as a clicker tackled me, it came from nowhere. Joel who was a few paces ahead heard me scream, he must have, and he rushed to me. Memories of him tearing it off me only for another runner to launch itself at Joel. He stumbled with a grunt and that was the last thing I heard from him before he was ripped apart from the throat. Tommy and Eugene were too far away to even hear the screeches and screams over the winds. He died in the middle of nowhere for a nobody. I had only been at Jackson less than a month and that was one of my first patrols. I can't even place where the patrol route was, only that I never went that way again. He didn't even know me. And I hated myself for it. I hated myself even more know realising Joel meant something to Ellie, unlike me, who meant nothing to either of them but I still survived.

I always wondered why Jesse and Dina were always so tight lipped whenever I asked them about Ellie. It’s not like I didn’t feel anything for him, for his death it’s just that I had made my peace with it. People died all the time in this world but Joel wasn’t just another person, he was Ellie’s person. And I took him away.

I say nothing to her as I drag myself back to the stream. What could I say to her? There were no words that could describe the guilt that consumed me and there was no apology I could possibly muster to give Ellie even the slightest drop of closure. I think even if I did have the words, I’d never have the courage to look her in the eye and say them. I pick new flowers to replace the flattened blood smeared ones and head back to my horse, passing Ellie without even so much as a look, my head down and heavy with shame. Before I can carefully place the flowers into my bag on my horse, I hear the quick thudding of Ellie’s boots on the ground getting close before she smacks the daisies out of my hand and delivering a harsh shove into my chest, sending me hurtling backwards. “Fucking say something you coward.” Another shove. “Do you have anything to justify taking away the one person- the only fucking person I loved?” She shoves me again and this time our horses shuffle around getting increasingly antsy. “I’m sorry.” Is the only thing I can bring myself to say, my own voice cracking as grief just floods through me, ripping apart any resolve I had. “I’m sorry that Joel died because of me."

The rest of patrol passed by painfully slow and unbearably silent but deep down I preferred it. The minutes ticked away and Ellie, with glassy eyes and a permanently locked jaw, didn't spare me a look even as we made it all the way back to Jackson.

#ellie williams #enemies to lovers #ellie tlou #fanfic #wlw #light angst #ellie x reader #tlou2 #joel miller #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

[ralfmaximus]

Interviewer: So what's your favorite memory about time travel?

Historian: What, besides the obvious? Seeing 'history' come alive?

Interviewer: *laughs*

Historian: Let me think...

Interviewer: Take your time

Historian: Ha!

Historian: Um... well, there was this one time. It was in the 1200s Common Era, I forget the exact date. But one of the profs was really super into illuminated manuscripts. You know, those things monks are always depicted as copying by hand

Interviewer: uh huh, with the haircut

Historian: Yes, with the haircut! And we had some unused time machine credits in the budget, so I figured 'why not?' and went back to 1200-something CE to snatch a transcriptionist

Interviewer: Wait, you what now

Historian: Well 'snatch' is strong... more like, borrowed

Interviewer: ..is that legal?

Historian: *laughs* oh goodness me, no

Interviewer: So should we be talking--

Historian: Oh, it's fine! Everything worked out fine, you see. The little guy spent five months here, illuminating the prof's boss's PHD thesis

Interviewer: Their what?!

Historian: You know, the summary of his doctoral dissertation, in printed form. Boss had copies of that thing laying around that he'd give out as gifts. Cases of them printed up. I dunno why... vanity I suppose

Interviewer: But he illuminated...?

Historian: The monk, yes. We set him up with a full period-accurate suite of writing instruments, completely accurate because *laughs* we snatched those too, you see

Interviewer: So he spent five... months... illuminating

Historian: Transcribing by hand, yes. Well you know, many of those original volumes took years to complete, so five months--

Interviewer: But... why?

Historian: Because it's funny, you see! The plan was to present the prof's boss with this historically accurate illuminated version of his own dissertation, created by--

Interviewer: Okay, I get it. So what happened? How'd it turn out?

Historian: Ah. Well. He never finished it. Made it maybe two-thirds in, then somebody made a critical mistake

Interviewer: A mistake?

Historian: Uh huh. Yes, we'd been extremely careful to keep the chap contained within our little historically accurate lab. Told him it was part of Heaven, and that God had a little project for him, nevermind the strange letters and words... it all worked out pretty well. Until one day containment was, ah, broken

Interviewer: Oh no

Historian: Yes. And one of the interns showed our visiting monk a tablet computer

Interviewer: OH NO

Historian: Microsoft Surface Pro 9 I think. With 16 gig of RAM

Interviewer: ..what happened?

Historian: Oh he loved the stylus

Interviewer: No I mean... what happened?

Historian: OH. Yes, well, he flew into a rage when we took it away. Wrecked his writing station. Accused us of deception, demonic influences. Destroyed his work. Literally set fire to it, actually, set off all the fire alarms. We had to sedate the poor guy in the end

Interviewer: Oh noooo

Historian: Yeah. Tranquilizer dart in the ass, just like at the zoo

Interviewer: So where is he now?

Historian: Safely returned to 1200-something CE, not even thirty seconds after the original snatch! Absolute precision time machine work. Probably thought he dozed off, the whole thing a bad dream...

Interviewer: So why is that your favorite time travel memory?

Historian: Oh! Because... let me show you this

Historian: *operates Microsoft tablet, brings up image, zooms in*

Historian: from Nativity with Six Dominican Monks circa 1265 CE... take a look at... THAT page, there

Interviewer: Oh my.. is that? Are they..?

Historian: Yes! All the monks are carrying Microsoft Surface tablets

Interviewer: oh no

Historian: Yeah well, at least they're not fucking iPads

*recording stops*

#writing #me #time travel #apologies to any real historians reading this #also time travellers

[openlategames]

Open Late Games Patreon & Discord!

Hi everyone! We have two exciting pieces of news to share.

We've been so busy since the wrap of the (very successful) Kickstarter, pulling together rewards for all of our lovely backers, as well as firing on all cylinders working on the full game.

As things have been growing and changing, and social media sites waver and crash, we have been considering how to best keep in touch with our wonderful community. Of course we'll remain active on here, Twitter, and Reddit, as well as anywhere else that crops up as a viable alternative. But we'd really like to stay in communication with all of you more organically and more directly.

To that end, we have a two-fold announcement.

First, we are starting an Open Late Media Patreon, officially launching Friday, September 1st.

The Patreon will expand on the worlds we create in our games, as well as share snippets from development, upcoming releases, exclusive art, and wherever else our creativity takes us.

Benefits of joining include art and scene game previews and exclusive side stories, in both NSFW and SFW flavors. Patrons have the ability to vote on and suggest content for future months.

As a treat, here's what you can expect for September's rewards.

While we are first and foremost developing content related to our games and the characters and settings we create within them, we will also be putting our own take on other media; based on the suggestions of Patrons, you can expect to read fics of your favorite characters with that distinctive OLG twist.

Our Patreon tiers start at $1 and get you all the Discord goodies. For $3, you'll also get previews of SFW scenes. $5 is where things get spicy… Take a look and see for yourself.

Second, we have a brand new, shiny, Open Late Games Discord server!

On our Discord, you'll be able to chat with us devs -- Aura and Lux -- directly! We love gifs, we love games, and we love to talk.

Patrons on the Discord get access to Patreon-only channels and access to dev livestreams, but the core server is open to anyone with an interest in sexy fictional characters.

So come on out and play. No need to be shy.

It's an ultra exclusive party and you're all invited --

.

#amare #gaming #otome #indie #indie vn #visual novel #indie games #otome romance #otome fandom #english otome #dating sim #amare game #otome game #r18 otome #indie otome #romance #indie dev #indiegamedev #gamergirl #otome boys #patreon #discord #patreon creator #patreon artist #patreon content #patreon reward #discord server #otome guys #otome dev

[rubyarrows]

Come Now

The Miami sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets as I stared at my phone. The message had come in just minutes ago, and it felt like an icy hand had gripped my heart.

*YN shot. Rushed to hospital. Come now.* - Horatio

Without a second thought, I abandoned my work and hurried to my car, the engine roaring to life as I raced through the city streets. Dread and worry twisted in my gut, the fear of the unknown gnawing at me with every passing second.

YN YLN had been my best friend for years. We'd seen each other through countless cases, shared laughter and frustrations, and built a bond that was unbreakable. I couldn't imagine a world without her in it.

As I pulled into the hospital parking lot, my heart pounded in my chest. Horatio Caine, our boss and mentor, met me in the emergency room. His face was grim, his eyes reflecting the concern that I felt deep within.

"Ryan," he said, his voice steady but tinged with worry. "YN's in surgery. The doctors are doing everything they can."

I nodded, my throat tight. "What happened, H?"

Horatio's gaze never wavered as he began to explain the events that had unfolded. YN and he had been interviewing a potential suspect when things had taken a dangerous turn. Shots were fired, and YN had taken a hit. Horatio had managed to neutralize the threat, but the damage had been done.

My fists clenched at my sides as I absorbed the information. YN, always so strong and resilient, now lay in that hospital, fighting for her life. It felt like a cruel nightmare.

"I need to see her," I said, my voice hoarse.

Horatio placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Of course."

The sterile scent of the hospital hit me as we entered the ICU. The rhythmic beeping of machines filled the air, a reminder of the fragility of life. My heart ached as I saw YN lying there, her face pale against the white hospital sheets.

Her eyes were closed, and the steady rise and fall of her chest was a reassurance, a promise that she was still with us. But I couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness, of not being able to shield her from the dangers that came with our line of work.

Hours passed, and I never left her side. I held her hand, willing my strength to reach her, to bring her back to us. As the night deepened, the hospital seemed to hold its breath, waiting for any sign of change.

And then, YN's eyes fluttered open, her gaze finding mine. The relief that surged through me was overwhelming, and tears welled in my eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice weak but filled with warmth.

I squeezed her hand gently, my voice catching as I spoke. "Hey, you gave us quite a scare."

A soft smile touched her lips, and I could see the determination in her eyes. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Wolfe."

As I looked into her eyes, a weight lifted from my chest, replaced by a profound gratitude for the moment. YN had faced danger head-on, and she had come through it, as strong and resilient as ever.

The following days were a mix of waiting, healing, and supporting each other. YN's recovery was slow, but she faced it with the same determination that defined her. And through it all, I was there by her side, reminding her that she was never alone.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon once again, I found myself alone with her in her hospital room. The steady beeping of machines was a reassuring lullaby, a reminder of the fragile beauty of life.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice soft as I brushed a strand of hair from her face.

YN's eyes met mine, her gaze steady. "Hey, yourself."

I smiled, the relief and affection in my heart impossible to contain. "I thought I lost you, ya know?"

Her fingers found mine, her touch grounding and real. "You didn't. And you won't. I promise."

Three months had passed since the terrifying night YN was shot. The hospital stay, the agonizing wait for her recovery—it all felt like a distant nightmare now. As I walked into the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, a mix of relief and nostalgia filled me. Today was a significant day—YN was finally returning to work.

The lab buzzed with its usual energy as I made my way to my workstation. The familiar faces of our colleagues greeted me with nods and smiles, but everyone's attention was directed at the doorway. And there she was, stepping into the lab, her smile radiant and her confidence evident.

"Welcome back, YNN!" Natalia exclaimed, stepping forward to give her a warm hug.

YN's laughter filled the air as she hugged Nat back. "It's good to be back, Nat."

Eric Delko grinned as he joined in the welcome committee. "Man, we've missed your sassy comments around here."

YN rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, I'm sure you've managed just fine without them, Delko."

As the greetings continued, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of YN surrounded by our colleagues. They were more than just coworkers—they were her extended family, the people she'd fought to protect and serve every day.

As she made her way toward me, I found myself at a loss for words. Seeing her standing there, fully recovered and embracing the normalcy of our work environment, was a testament to her strength and resilience.

"Hey, Ryan," she greeted, her smile softening as our eyes met.

"Hey," I replied, my voice a mixture of relief and emotion. "It's good to see you back, YNN."

She nodded, a subtle understanding passing between us. "It's good to be back."

Throughout the day, our colleagues approached YN, expressing their joy at her return and their concern for her well-being. She handled it all with grace, her responses filled with gratitude and humor. The lab felt alive with a renewed sense of camaraderie and unity, a shared appreciation for the bonds that held us together.

As the afternoon sun filtered through the windows, YN and I found a moment alone in the break room. She leaned against the counter, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Ryan, I wanted to thank you," she began, her eyes meeting mine.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "For what?"

Her gaze held mine, sincere and unwavering. "For being there for me through all of it. From the hospital to the recovery, you never left my side."

My heart swelled with emotion, and I offered her a small smile. "YNN, you're my best friend. I'd do anything for you."

She nodded, her smile matching mine. "I know. And that means more to me than you'll ever know."

As the day drew to a close, YN returned to her workstation, her laughter mingling with the banter of our colleagues. The lab felt complete again, as if a missing piece had finally returned.

#ruby arrows #ruby arrows imagines #csi #csi x reader #csi imagine #csi imagines #csi fanfiction #csi miami #csi miami x reader #csi miami imagine #csi miami imagines #csi miami fanfiction #ryan wolfe #ryan wolfe x reader #ryan wolfe imagine #ryan wolfe imagines #ryan wolfe fanfiction

[wrestlezaynia]

"Envie Insatiable."

Summary: After months of being apart, Kevin craves Sami's touch.

Warning: Strong sexual content. Do not read if you’re under 18.

That look Sami gave him, the penetrating stare. The way he licked his lips and gave him that come hither expression. Kevin knew Sami better than anyone, but this behavior was sending him mixed signals.

Kevin couldn't get that image out of his head. Every time he attempts to close his eyes, he sees Sami's face staring back at him. It's late, but he doesn't care. He needs to see him, if only for a moment.

Sami lay awake, visions of Kevin consuming his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about him and how lonesome he is sleeping in this big bed all alone. He misses the warmth of Kevin's body, the comfort his arms provide, his soft lips pressed gently but firmly against his own.

Is it fate? Are they so deeply in tune with one another that Kevin can sense Sami's longing? Whatever the case may be, he's here, waiting.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Sami is overcome with emotion. He chalks it up to sleep deprivation, that is, until he hears a light tapping. The feeling reemerges stronger than ever as he approaches the door cautiously. He opens it and his heart skips a beat. "Kev, wh-what are you doing here?" He asks in disbelief, a slight stammer in his voice.

"Cut the crap, Sami." Kevin counters, brushing past him as the door swings shut behind them. "I saw the way you were looking at me." He adds softly, advancing towards the redhead with lust filled eyes.

Sami swallows hard as he watches Kevin inch closer, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "Kev, y-you really shouldn't be here." He warns, fearing for his safety. "They're going to be back any minute."

"Then we'd better make it fast." Kevin replies seductively, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging it off. "Which one is Roman's?" He asks, glancing over at the two empty beds occupying the room.

Sami shakes his head in response, knowing those actions would have severe consequences as he struggles to prevent his eyes from wandering. "No, Kevin." He says firmly, despite craving the physical contact and intimacy they used to share. "If they find you here-"

"Let them find me." Kevin counters, defiance in his tone. "I can't keep fighting these urges." He whispers, his voice dripping with desire as he leans in close, their lips mere inches apart. "I need you, Sami."

Sami could feel the heat rise to his cheeks as Kevin draws near, his gaze drifting from Kevin's lips then back to his eyes. Desire burning within the smoky grey hue, leaving him breathless. No longer able to resist temptation, he tears off his shirt and discards it to the floor.

Kevin watches intently as Sami rips off the "Honorary Uce" shirt, his lips twisting into a self-satisfied smirk. The mere sight leaving him hot and bothered as he presses his bare chest against Sami's, the sensation sending shivers up his spine. Their eyes connect and Kevin can feel Sami's heartbeat start to quicken as he kisses him tenderly.

A gasp escapes Sami as Kevin's chest brushes against his own, his touch rejuvenating him and reigniting a fire in his belly as he kisses back with fervor. Hands clutching Kevin's face as he slips his tongue into his mouth, eager to taste him after months of being apart.

Kevin moans softly into the kiss, fingers tangling in Sami's crimson locks as he guides him towards the bed before shoving him playfully on his back and crawling on top of him. "I want you so bad it hurts." He murmurs breathlessly, gazing deeply into Sami's warm hazel eyes.

Sami stares back at Kevin, raising a hand to cup his cheek. "Then take me, Kev." He replies softly, caressing his skin with his fingertips.

#Zowens #Sami Zayn #Kevin Owens #NSFW. #One-shot

[badaxefamily]

A couple weeks ago, at the end of June, after a hellish month of one stressful situation after another, our power was out for a week in triple digit temperatures. We have a generator that we've used for years, power outages are fairly common here in the South. We moved it to what we thought was a safer location, but in the middle of the night one of our CO detectors went off. My brother and I puzzled over it for a moment, wondering if it was a false alarm (high heat and humidity can do that). It had never gone off before, and it was a few years old. Everyone was exhausted from the heat and aforementioned stressful month. Did we really want to herd everyone outside and call the fire department? No one had any symptoms. All any of us wanted to do was try to sleep. But we experimentally took the CO detector outside. If it was a false alarm, it should beep again when it was outside. But it didn't.

We did the right thing: Shooed the whole family out and called 911. The firemen walked around with their own specialized detectors and then opened all the doors and windows and set up giant fans to flush the CO out of the house. Then they told us all to go to the emergency room: the CO level in the house was 40 PPM, and we'd been exposed to that for hours before the alarm went off. The attic was worse, a whopping 200 PPM (the generator had been placed too close to an attic vent, none of us noticed). If we had just gone back to sleep, none of us would have ever woken up. We spent five hours on oxygen in the ER, and we're all fine now (as are our cats, they didn't seem to have any symptoms either thanks to the firemen flushing the air in the house. There was no way to wrangle the cats outside, but the windows were open and when we got back they weren't even stressed.)

The main reason I'm posting this is as a cautionary tale. Make sure you have CO detectors on every floor of your house and in every bedroom, just like smoke detectors! And assume any alarm is real. Otherwise you will not know if you're being exposed to CO until it's too late. Not one member of my family had any signs of CO poisoning, not even me with all my weird health problems and sensitive lungs. But we all had elevated blood values that had the ER put us on oxygen within minutes of walking in the door. The detector that went off was this one, but any that's UL certified is good. After this incident we also got one with a digital display that shows the PPM.

#real life #not game related #cw: dangerous situation #carbon monoxide

[fox-bright]

A dream.

I dreamed I was an orphan child, dressed mostly in rags, following a caravan. Horses, carts, wheelbarrows, maybe mostly a merchant caravan? There were guards, and they kept me from getting too close to beg for food.

An old man all in black and dark blue started sharing his food with me in the evenings, and his fire. It was a several-month journey, and I was sticking as near the caravan as I could creep, so that I'd be safer from bandits that preyed on travelers in the desert. I never saw the old man sleep, but once in a while he said he'd keep watch while I did so, and I grew fond of him pretty quickly.

Mostly what I remember of him from the dream was that he told stories. Not the kind I was used to, not the funny stories about who tricked whom or who got kicked by a horse when they tried to sneak into a woman's blankets, they were stories about palace intrigues and the movements of armies, complicated things that always seemed ultimately to have a moral--avoid cruelty, avoid greed, consider the effects of your actions on the people around you. I asked "Are you a monk?" and he tilted his head and smiled, and said nothing.

Bit by bit, my being seen with him brought me closer to the caravan. Eventually I was allowed to sleep within the glow of its firelight. A little while later, one of the kinder guards would slip me bits of dried meat when he thought no one else was looking, and once or twice even tangy dried fruit. Someone, or someone's mother, gave me a pair of shoes that a child had outgrown on the trip. I don't think I'd had shoes before, only sometimes wrapped rags around my feet if the air was cold. It seemed that everyone knew the man--and lots of him did, in fact, call him That Monk--and knew him to be a good judge of character. It seemed that the old man was known for good deeds, for the quiet word that interrupted an argument, for tireless effort to help in times of trouble (mending a cart wheel, caring for a sick horse or injured herd dog), for feeding hungry children like me.

With acceptance came other conversations, sidelong at first and then openly, about the weather and where we'd all come from, about where we were going and what we hoped to be when we got there. I didn't have any particular reason to think that the new city I was headed to would be kinder to me than the last, but home hadn't been safe for me anymore, and if I was very lucky I could find some sort of apprenticeship. One of the merchants hoped to become rich, another had already traveled this route a dozen times in his life, and scoffed at the idea. A grandmother was going to be with her son and his family, now that her husband was in the ground--she couldn't wait to see the sea again, after her entire adult lifetime spent so far from where she'd been born.

That Monk didn't have any goal, he said. The older merchant murmured that he'd encountered him more than once on this road, over the years, and that he'd already been known here when the merchant was young. "He doesn't settle." he said. "Maybe his sort can't."

All the same, I tried to convince him. "If I get an apprenticeship I could afford us a room. It's going to be autumn when we make it to the city, you should at least stay through the winter." I hadn't had any dreams about family in a long time, and he'd become precious to me. I harassed him for two weeks, until finally he sat me down alone after the rest of the caravan was asleep and said he was going to tell me something he hadn't told anyone else in a long, long time.

And he told me another story:

"Long ago, when I was young and fierce, I was also very wealthy, and thought that gave me virtue. I was the brightest son of a family of strong warriors, raised to know that everything I looked upon belonged to me, and I could do as I would. And oh, I did. I wreaked war on my neighbors on all sides, and added their wealth to my own. My father eventually joined our grandfathers in the afterlife, and I became the ruler. To do honor to my forebears, I conquered without mercy. I burned villages if they would not submit to my rule, I sacked cities, I ordered the deaths of as many people as there are fish in the Yangtze. And my empire flourished and shone, and I was glad.

As I grew older, of course there were rebellions. And I and my captains put them down. Once, there was an attempt at a coup within my own palace. I had the ringleaders tortured to death publicly over the course of a week, and held a feast while their families were driven into the desert. The face of the world was changed by my hand, and I reckoned it only appropriate, because after all I was strong. And bit by bit, violence by violence, I grew old.

When the fever came, I knew that I would not survive it. I had already assigned duties to my heirs, as I would not see my great empire destroyed by bickering after I was gone, and I settled riches on my wives, and I knew the rattling in my chest was an announcement of my fate.

I grew very weak. I thought about what was to happen to me next, about what gleaming company I would enter as I died, about my grandfathers and the stories we would tell about our triumphs. Half-dreaming, sick and delirious, I saw them arrayed about me in their armor and their finery, and I waited to see them smile and welcome me. But their faces were hard with grief. And I knew all at once that I had no time left, and that I was about to be consigned to one of the bitterest hells. I had committed so many acts of war, to no purpose but to add to my majesty. I had caused so many to die, and killed so many with my own hands, that the weight of their suffering would drive me down for the rest of time. I was filled with despair and self-loathing.

I had known some power beyond that of the spear, and I had read many books, and with my last breath I made a bargain. I said, let me not yet enter hell. Let me instead try to rebalance my karma, let me do good where for so long I have done violence. And my grandfathers said, You have no time. And I begged them, I do not ask to live. I only ask to find some way to atone.

And I opened my eyes for the last time, and I was alone in the room. And I closed my eyes."

I looked at him in disbelief, where he leaned back against against a bag beside the dimming fire, all his darkness limned in gold. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and I did not think he watched me. I took a long breath. "It is a story." I said. "It is." he said. "Go to sleep."

I slept.

When I woke into a bright morning, I did not ask him again to stay with me. I did not ask him for anything at all. The mother who had given me her boy's shoes watched me with concern, and rested her palm on my forehead for a minute. After some quiet discussion with her group, she said that today, I could ride on her cart and rest.

But I was a child, and children smooth things over. And after all I had been alone for so long, without an adult to trust, why would I throw this one away? Life went back to normal.

We were very near the city now. Near enough that the guards began to be on edge, because with proximity came greater danger. We hadn't seen any bandits on the road, had once seen a cloud of dust on the horizon that came from the hooves of many horses but had never been close enough to hear their riders. But there is no point to raiding a merchant caravan unless you can sell what you take from it, and cities have many people who would buy from anyone. So it was perhaps inevitable that the last night we would be camping outside, we were attacked.

I snapped awake to the sounds of screaming horses, and screaming people. My fire had died down, but I could see the rest of the caravan's fires being stoked bright, I could see women thrusting their children behind them. I heard laughter from the shadows behind me, and when I turned there were bandits, their faces very cheerful and upsetting. They were between me and the safety of the caravan, so I ran into the dark.

I was small, and not very strong. I didn't get far. There were half a dozen of them here, and they grabbed at me, and all I was was screaming and kicking and biting. One of them caught my heel, and my shoe peeled off as I hauled my leg back to kick again. And then there was all at once a sort of silence, a stillness that came over us like a blanket, like sleep. In my lungs the air felt freezing cold, the stars above were clear and untwinkling. And behind us all, That Monk cleared his throat.

"If you don't put the child down, turn and leave this camp, I will kill the lot of you." he said. His voice wasn't loud. There was no anger in it, though there was a sort of sleepy anticipation, and an absolute confidence. All the hairs on my arms went up, and I was shouting again, but this time at him, begging him not to do it. He'd been working a thousand years to balance his karma, if he killed these men--if he killed these men!

They dropped me roughly on my tailbone, drawing weapons, diving for That Monk. And for a moment I had double vision, there was his wrinkled, smiling self, all his dark rough clothing, and there was a man in his thirties, dark hair falling to his knees in a high tail, shining lacquered armor catching the light from the caravan fires. Drawn sword catching the light more sharply, blood red. He moved through the bandits like a flicker, or a swallow, some darting thing, like a child's kongzhu toy jumping from string to string. But everywhere he landed, a blade darted out, and someone fell.

It was over in moments. I'd barely had time to bring back the breath that had been knocked out of me when I was dropped. My heart was in my throat, and my eyes welled up, looking at the old-young king-monk who had saved me. "Stupid! What were you thinking! You were almost free!" I shouted at him, finding my feet and running to pummel him on the chest with useless fists. "My life is worthless! You should have let me die!"

He laughed under his breath, and fixed the tie in my loosened hair. "If I had done that, if I had let you die out of fear of soiling my karma, what would have happened to me then?" he asked me. "What weight would have been added to me, what shame? Killing them was a more moral choice than cowardice." I blinked and rubbed my eyes with dusty fingers. Behind him I saw men in armor, men with cheekbones like his, men with jewels at their throats and quiet approval on their rough or elegant faces. And behind them, someone else, someones, all bright, hair and eyes burning white as the Moon--

And then I woke up.

#foxwrites #fox writes #fox dreams #my actual life #my actual dreamlife

[the-fiction-witch]

An Empty House

Media Wolf Hall

Character Rafe Sadler

Couple Rafe X Reader

Rating Smutty

Concept Waking

I smiled feeling the warm spring morning sun against my face, I held the thick embroidered curtains having slightly pulled them apart to peek out the window overlooking the garden, the sweet flowers blooming and blossoming on the trees in the garden of the house with birds and bee's about their morning business in the sweet light. I moved back from the little windows shutting the curtain again, and stepped back on the cold wooden floor. I looked across the wood-lined room the heavy curtains to my side, the fireplace taking up most of the wall with various items lingering on the mantle. The fire dying out the glow low and barely enough to light the back of the fireplace, the logs well battled and were torn so much so they almost completely fell apart. Against the closest wall sat the large wooden bed the same curtains from the windows on the bed put not pulled at all, the sweet dark green and grey sheets across the bed however muddled by the body that lays in the bed. I found it impossible to prevent my giggles knowing the inside of this room was something I was not suppose to have seen let alone be stood inside it. My father would likely have me executed he knew I stood here behind a locked door. 

I carefully stepped across the wooden floor being gentle and slow as to make sure my barefeet would not cause the wooden floor to creak below me, I moved closer holding my small blanket shawll around my shoulders leaning on the wooden bedpost while a smile. 

I looked across the large bed with the messed white covers of cotton with a few small buttons and embridodery, the green covers over top. The thin body laid within the covers legs spread and body cosy in the bed his head against the pillow his arms close to the pillow too. His white cotton shirt against his skin his sleaves down to his wrists but without ruffles and such like mostly due to his work always with quill and paperwork in hand, I use to say you could always spot a business boy as the ruffles at their wrists would always have ink, his shirt loosely laced close to his chest. I giggled and slipped off my shawll leaving it on the floor. 

"Good Morning" I cooed 

He began to stir and shift in bed "Uuummmm" he grumbled and groaned "Good Morning" he slowly opened his eyes immediately his smile curved up as he looked over me "Hello"

"Hello" I smiled carefully stepping over as I did he shifted slightly to be laid on his back and pushed away his covers until his hips where exposed with only his cotton laced trousers to conceal him, I smiled and held my nightie enough I could climb onto his lap sitting my weight on his hips which he happily smiled widely too often shifting his hips a little until we both sat comfortably and I gently stroked his shirt him often playing with the lace of my nightie or with my fingers 

"What time is it?" he asked

"Just beyond half past nine" I giggled

"I shouldn't still be in bed" he says trying to sit up but I stopped him and pusdhed him down into his matress

"The journey you've been on these last few months knowone could blame you for needing a day or two to rest Rafe"

"I fear I might be coming down with something"

"Likely all the riding in the rain" 

"I Imagine so. god knows I've hardly rested in days"

"You have not rested all these days, so it makes sense you'll need your rest" 

"True, I think I've had enough now" he says "You shouldn't be here" He whispered 

"why not?" I smiled 

"You know the sort of trouble we'd both be in if someone found us like this" 

"What sort of trouble?"

"Umm well your father would first of course cast me out as his ward, toss me from this place, send me home to my father, where I could only lay in wait for one of your father's spies to come and posion me" He chuckled 

"That seems likely, but what would happen to me?"

"I don't know what would happen to you?"

"Well my father would be utterly furious, he'd demand I tell him off all my secrets and for that I'd likely get a spanking, then be stuck from the house and family left to the gutter" 

"I suppose he would if you told him all our secrets" He cooes "You shouldn't be here."

"Father has taken Gregory with him to meet with the chancelor won't be back till sunday" I giggled 

"Has he? And Ritchard?"

"With them." 

"Joan and the maids?"

"Sent home, I promised I could look after the house for a few days" 

"Really? An empty House?" He smirked moving his hands to my hips gently stroking my body though the nightie 

"An empty house, all our own" I smiled leaning down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss he happily and egarly kissed back even in his tried state passioantely kissing me clearly all our time apart had simply wound him tighter and now he was desperate for his release, till we each pulled back I giggled 

"I have missed you so very much, traveling makes one feel so very lonsome"

"Well you had many options of company on your travels"

"Options of company?" he chuckled "Ahh yes, my left hand or the right? neither of which are even subject when compared to you" 

"You have coin with you, my father pays your expenses I'm sure he pays enough for you to take company" 

"I could that's true but why would I bother so throw coin onto an unwilling little whore for a night of company. When I could however torutuous wait impatiently to return to my angel where I can spend the evening utterly in passion" he cooes stroking up and down my nightie I smiled and gently moved my hand to my nightie tugging at the ribbons ties lossening my nightie until it fell down from my shoulders exposing them utterly to him "Rare is it that I get to witness your heavenly body in such sweet light let alone day light, so often I have only to see you wrapped in shalls that can quickly be returned, or only to feel in the utter darkness and only the slight sight in the flickering nervous candlelight too afraid to light more incase your father or brother are out walking in the night and see my light on" He explained "May I My angel?" He cooes stroking my nightie 

"You may my darling" I smiled leaning down to kiss him again helping as we kissed to slip off my nightie completly. 

#thomas sangster #tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster #tbs imagines #tbs #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #rafe fanfic #rafe sadler #rafe fic #rafe #rafe imagine #rafe sadler smut #rafe sadler imagine #rafe smut #rafesadler #wolf hall fanfic #wolfhall #bbc wolf hall

[massivelimestonecube]

i'd like to tell you about this hole in the ground.

[discussion of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse of children ahead. this is a long post, but a very important one; please bear with me for a few minutes of your time.]

before there was a hole in the ground, there were buildings here. the buildings looked like houses but they were not. they were unregulated psychiatric facilities where dozens of teenagers were held against their wills - against our wills - for months or years at a time. it's difficult to explain what it was like. in place of treatment, we spent 2 hours in "group therapy" a day, where a few people would be singled out and the rest of us had to attack them. we'd all be forced to, for instance, tell a child rape survivor why it was their fault, surround them physically, call them a slut in unison, led by adults who all participated enthusiastically. if we didn't we wouldn't earn enough "points" - all activities were graded - to be allowed to talk, or even be acknowledged by others, for at least a week. everyone was punished for everything, all the time, even for things that were not in any way bad, like wearing a ponytail without permission. almost everyone was completely broken by the brainwashing within months. there's no way to tell this story concisely. it's been a decade and the effects of complex PTSD have never left me.

at a different time than i was there, a teen girl was raped by a staff member. she reported what happened. instead of firing the staff member, they punished the victim instead. they confiscated her journals, containing evidence, and burned them. she was not the only one who experienced this kind of abuse, but when she got out she decided she would be the last. she got in contact with a lawyer, and by word of mouth, got dozens of us together to testify. only a few of us (myself, unfortunately, not included) were within the statute of limitations, but everyone's testimony is still on the record to corroborate what happened there.

the case has not yet gone to trial, but the story was released to the public in march. (you can read an article about it here; the full text of the lawsuit is linked at the bottom. please note that the lawsuit describes the abuse very graphically.)

four days later, i found out that one of their three facilities had closed. over the following months, they were all gone.

this hole in the ground is the facility i was at. it was once the Vista Adolescent Treatment Center in Magna, Utah. it is now just dirt, because a lot of people got together and decided there would be no more abuse.

vista got away with it for over 20 years. they abused thousands of children. they made a lot of money. finally survivors said no more, and presented a case so strong they were forced to cease their own operations - they didn't even wait to be shut down by the state. when i heard about the lawsuit, i was certain the only real outcome would be compensation for a very small set of victims, and a financial inconvenience for vista. i can't believe how much better it turned out.

i want to tell you this story for two reasons. one, if you weren't already aware of the troubled teen industry, you should spend a little time researching it. understand that vista is not in any way unique in the nature & scope of its abuse; in fact, a lot of us consider ourselves lucky that we were (for the most part) not beaten, like children are at so many other facilities that operate with impunity.

two, i want people who hear this to know that it is possible to stop these abusive systems. it's not easy, it's not always a success, and litigation & legislature are not the only means. learn where abuse, on any scale, is taking place in your communities. choose not to tolerate it. i was institutionalized for 18 months and i wondered every day why no one ever came to help me or did anything to stop it. i finally got my chance to help stop it from happening to others. i am not stopping with vista.

there is, thankfully, a lot more public understanding of what happens at these places now than there was when i was sent there. even my mom has apologized for what happened to me, now that she's read the lawsuit and had enough years to come to terms with making a mistake (of course, she was preyed upon and manipulated emotionally for financial gain, too). podcasts like Trapped in Treatment tell the stories of survivors directly. the local news here in Utah, the epicenter of the industry, is starting to pick up on what's happening. legislation offering some protection to children in these facilities is slowly being passed. still, very little has changed. facilities are almost never shut down, and regulation only touches the most egregious of human rights violations, never the little things that add up to massive trauma.

i am not asking you to march or donate to a nonprofit or call your senator or even read anything else on the subject beyond this post. i ask only that you refuse to allow abuse (in this form or any other) to take place. if you want it to stop you have to be the kind of person who is willing to stop it. it didn't sink in for me how immediately possible it was until i saw this photo.

thank you for reading. a better world is possible.

#vista treatment center #vista rtc #vista adolescent treatment center

[eviltothecore13]

pass the happy!🌻 when you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications!

My girlfriend--though she's visiting family in another country right now. I try not to brag about her too much but she really is amazing, not just because she's beautiful but because we have a very similar sense of humour, she genuinely likes the "weirder" things about me, and it is very endearing when she turns into some kind of walking encyclopedia of classic film at the slightest prompting (she has multiple films completely memorised and I'm more than a little in awe).

Fencing. Been getting back into it over the past few months in particular, after a few years of not doing it so much, and it's a lot of fun.

Music--of various genres, but if we're talking the most "make me happy" stuff I'd think of a song like...maybe I Am The Fire by Halestorm, or Faster by Within Temptation...

My fandoms. Not necessarily...going into the fandom tags...but the actual canon itself, writing and making art for them, and getting to discuss them with other people who love them.

Just...trying new things whether that's watching a film or reading a book that I hadn't before, or learning something new (been learning chess recently--technically I learned the rules as a kid but now I'm trying to actually get good at it and learn openings and actual strategy) or a new food or drink (this year I've discovered pandan ice cream, and had Turkish coffee for the first time), or the time me and my girlfriend decided to head down some tiny little corridor I'm not sure visitors are actually meant to go down in a local museum (that we'd both been to before and didn't think there'd be much new to see at) kind of expecting to just end up in a cupboard or something and instead found ourselves faced with an extremely creepy painting of...some kind of disturbing-looking, only vaguely humanoid entity staring down at us.

...that last one went places. Well, you get what I mean. Explore. Discover things. Find creepy paintings! you never know what might happen.

[izzy-b-hands]

Just muckin abt with some Ed and Izzy early pirating days stuff. No set age for now for either of them because I wanna see if the show does anything with that re: both of their backstories, so for this fic put 'em at whatever age you want, that you think they might have dipped out from home at.

Hints of Ed/Izzy, or at the very least some young Izzy low-key yearning for Ed, while Ed does something accidentally romantic and probably couldn't tell you himself if he actually meant it to be romantic or not.

---

"We need to look the part," Ed said, as they tossed all their money onto Ed's coat on the sand. "Huh. That's not as much as I'd hoped."

"Looks like more before you see it all like this," Izzy agreed. "Spread out and sparse."

"Once we've robbed some people, or taken a ship, then we can upgrade everything," Ed said, gesturing to his clothes: a torn black blouse that was a hand-me-down from the local charity house, and grey trousers that were so patched at the knee from years of wear and use that Ed described it like constantly wearing knee pads.

"Something small for now," Izzy nodded. "Though it should be something we need, like a better coat. Thicker shirt, a decent hat."

The port they had stopped at in their stolen dinghy had all of one shop, hosted by a woman who looked like she'd rather set them on fire then sell them anything.

Beyond that, the prices were eye-popping.

"Pirates are supposed to come to this port fairly often," Izzy whispered to Ed. "They don't honestly pay this much, right?"

Ed shrugged. "I think I've found something that can work for us. And it won't totally bankrupt us either."

He handed the rest of their money to Izzy. "Go get whatever else you think we'll need. Food, water, whatever. I'll meet you back on the beach."

About a half hour later Izzy hauled himself and what little he'd been able to buy (prices stung at the market as much as in the shop) to the beach.

"We're broke now, right?" Ed smiled as Izzy sat beside him on the sand.

"Yeah," Izzy chuckled. "We're broke. But we have oranges and water and some supplies for hardtack."

Ed frowned. "How long will it last us?"

"Probably not as long as we'd like or need but longer than we might expect," Izzy replied.

"That's not really an answer."

"It's not really a question I can confidently answer right now."

Ed nodded. "Right. Well, let me give you what I found. It's not much at all, but I think it might make us a little more interesting. Plus, it sort of marks the occasion. We finally got away."

He handed Izzy a black silk scarf, thin enough to be worn as a necktie, and a ring.

"I know the rings we can't wear normally or we'll risk getting them caught on something," Ed said. "But...here, let me show you how I figured we could wear it."

He took Izzy's scarf and motioned for Izzy to lean close. He tied the scarf around his neck, and gently pushed the extra material through the ring until it sat securely over the knot he'd tied.

"What do you think?" Ed asked, a nervous smile on his face.

Izzy felt like his heart was beating too fast and stopping all at once. He touched the ring like it might break from the action. "I think it's perfect."

Ed wrapped him in a tight hug. "Awesome! Can you help get mine on? I managed it myself earlier but it's easier with help."

Ed sat close, helping to keep his long hair out of the way (he'd been growing it out for over a year now, in anticipation of their leaving. A new look for a new life.) Izzy did his best to keep his hands from shaking. It was a combination of realizing they truly had done it, they were out on their own now, and they would either succeed...or be dead within a month, if not sooner.

That, and Ed being so close. Smelling of sea and salt and some musk because it had been a hot fucking day out and all black clothing made them look slightly more pirate-like, but it was much warmer. But he liked the scent. Uniquely Ed and familiar and comfortable.

Freshly attired in at least one way, they hauled everything else onto the dinghy. From there, they dragged it up the beach with them, far enough that no tide could try to steal it away from them.

They had worked to sew a homemade tarp from various bits of fabric they could sneak away, and that now went over the dinghy, secured with ropes that had seen better days, but still held thankfully.

It put them near the treeline, underneath green palms. Leaned up against their boat, sharing the one blanket Izzy had taken from his own bed back home.

"Should take turns at watch," Izzy yawned. "Make sure no one fucks with us through the night."

Ed nodded. "Not a bad idea. But I really don't think anyone will."

"No?"

"They pitied us," Ed replied bitterly. "Shopkeep said everyone's close-knit here and figured what we're up to just by watching us! Not the first they've seen with our plan, apparently. They think it's 'cute.' We've only been here barely two days; they don't even know us! But they've already decided we're pathetic enough to ignore."

Izzy sighed. "At least we can both sleep instead."

"There's a bright side," Ed said. "What would I do without you around to remind me of shit like that?"

"No questions like that," Izzy said as he tried to lay comfortably on the sand. It wasn't really possible, but he tried anyway. "Or it'll keep you up all night talking about what ifs or what about. We both need sleep, come on."

Ed had tossed his coat down as a pillow for himself, and settled on his stomach, face snuggled into the worn fabric.

They moved closer, trying to share the blanket as best as possible, wrapping it around a leg or under an arm so any wind that came up might not steal it from them.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Ed asked with an excited giggle. "First time out to try and rob someone, first time as actual pirates!"

Izzy smiled. "I'm ready. Been ready for a long time."

They might be dead in a month. In a week, in another day. But it was a bearable thought, as Izzy fell asleep tangled with Ed. Because that was just it. At least he'd be with Ed. Even if they did die, they still had the achievement of what they'd done so far. They'd made it, they'd gotten away. They were going to work towards something better for themselves.

Under the moonlight, the small simple gems on their rings shimmered.

#text post #ofmd fic #ed/izzy #but very early days so like its a hint of it #but ship tagging just to be safe and cover all the bases lol #i love everything abt the idea of these two dorks just going for it and escaping with no sure idea it would be towards better #ngl wish i could do that myself but thats a bit more complex now lmaoo #time to vicariously live thru the pirates instead akdnkfgm

[makespaceforspirit]

Knight of Wands from The Light Seers Tarot deck

We don't always pull cards that reflect where we are, we also get aspirational cards—cards that reflect what's in the air, possibilities, or desired spaces we'd like to be in. They also sometimes reflect what's coming next. The Knight of Wands is about passion, spontaneity, pursuing your dreams, courage, inspired action, the pursuit of adventure. I am in fact, in the process of doing all those things, but I am in the planning stages, so I look at this card and I don't FEEL that it reflects me, but I read it's meaning and I KNOW that's the path I'm on.

I love Chris-Ann's Light Seer's tarot deck. The illustrations are beautiful, but they also capture the heart and spirit of the card's message. This woman is clearly in the moment. Playing drums, feeling the fire of the music, being spontaneous and being alive. Which is the exact opposite of the structured maze of have-to's many of us find ourselves wandering through. I'm on my way to three or four months of unstructured living, taking a break from the rat race. This used to be my regular life, before becoming a parent, I would work seven months out of the year and go away for the winter. Now that my child is a young adult, I'm finding the same desire for freedom runs through me. This card is perfect for me because it's who I'd like to be and how I'd like to live.

And although the card reflects how I'd like to live, receiving it feels uncomfortable because it doesn't reflect my current now. So rather than filling me with celebration, the card filled me with contemplation (which is one of the major reasons I love tarot, it's power to make you stop and reflect). I thought about how I am spontaneous and I do enjoy and celebrate life, but within a prescribed box. There are many valid reasons for those parameters and limits we put around ourselves, but once we put them there, we often don't go back to review them or adjust them or skip outside of them.

I found myself discussing it with friends and hearing it in other people's communications. In me pulling that card, it created a space of listening and engagement, through which I had rich exchanges on what it means to live a passionate life.

The creator of this deck, Chris-Ann writes that the Knight of Wands signals that you have the opportunity to "gift yourself with the freedom to shift your reality to match your desires." What about you, if you lived a passionate life in which your reality matched your impulses and desires, what would it look like? What would have to shift? What would stay the same?

Close your eyes and take a breath. I'll join you in visioning a passionate life that is spontaneous, vibrant, authentic, alive, and FULLY YOU! Wishing that you and I can empower ourselves to fully be the magical and creative beings we were created to be.

🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

Onward, —K.

#healing #spirituality #tarot #healing encounter #journeys #life journey #passion #creativity #inspiration #reality #knight of wands #spontaneity #vision #dreams