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abigail-pent · 1 year

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So I saw She Said last night; and I have some thoughts.

#1: Great film; well done; fairly white, though, but I think that reflects the reality of this particular story. The cast was amazing though, and there are a lot of great cinematography choices made.

#2: It was weird about The Jews. This is why I come to tumblr today.

So basically, there is an undercurrent running through the story that Jodi Kantor's Jewishness is important to getting this story done the way it was done. There are four specific parts of the movie where this is highlighted.

Part 1: Kantor is depicted celebrating Shabbat with her family. This scene is provided apparently solely for the purpose of highlighting her ethnoreligious background/identity. No other main character gets a similar treatment; Twohey gets a little bit of background in the sense that they show that she's just given birth and is struggling with postpartum depression. That's the parallel the film draws between the two of them: the thing propelling Twohey to do this work is that she thinks work will help ease her postpartum depression, and the thing propelling Kantor to do this work is that she's... Jewish. So, immediately, a bit odd, a bit unbalanced. An argument can certainly be made that the relevance of her Jewishness to the parallel is that she maybe has a strong sense of justice and is pursuing it. But this is extracurricular work that the viewer has to do, and which the viewer can only do if they have the background to know about why someone from modern, mainstream New York Jewish culture would feel strongly about a story like this.

Part 2: "Jew-to-Jew". There's a line in the film where Kantor says to Twohey that Lisa Bloom, who was acting as Weinstein's lawyer, approached Kantor and tried to connect with her "Jew-to-Jew" to try to persuade her not to write the story. This is the quote: "Jew-to-Jew". This is mentioned in kind of an offhand way, but it sat weird with me, because who talks like that? Specifically, who would say that phrase to their goyische coworker, and expect that their goyische coworker would immediately understand what that means? And what impression does that give the audience of us? To me, it was an immediate red flag, because the implication to an audience not familiar with Jews is likely to be something along the lines of: "They all know each other, they all expect one another to be loyal to the group, and this is well known by people who live and work in New York and who write about these powerful people." When you phrase it like that, it is likely to reinforce antisemitic beliefs about how members of our ethnoreligion interact with one another.

Now, according to this Jerusalem Post interview that Kantor gave, it seems like an interaction like this did happen in real life. She says:

“Weinstein put [Jewishness] on the table and seemed to expect that I was going to have some sort of tribal loyalty to him. . . . And that was just not going to be the case.”

So this is a real interaction, but the phrase "Jew-to-Jew" seems to be an invention of the screenwriter, Rebecca Lenkiewicz, who also wrote Ida and Disobedience. She certainly writes a lot of films which are Jewish or have significant Jewish content; and per her Wikipedia page, her stepfather is Jewish, and there's one article in the Advocate which identifies her as Jewish too; so while I hope that's accurate, this bit just really hit a wrong note with me. Also, important to note, these words are put in the mouth of a non-Jewish actress (Zoe Kazan), who plays Kantor. So we're looking at yet another movie where someone who isn't Jewish but does have a schnoz is cast as a Jew. Now, Kazan does a great job, but it still rankles a bit.

Part 3: In that same Jerusalem Post interview, Kantor says that part of Weinstein's manipulation of her was that he hired Black Cube to try to derail her specifically, and that a Black Cube (so, Israeli) agent tried to get her to speak at some women's conference for a large sum of money. This is mentioned in a very off-the-cuff way in the film, and it's not ever expanded upon or connected back to Weinstein. It feels really out of place, like a line that could have been cut. And since Kantor herself identifies it as part of the way Weinstein tried to use her Jewishness to neutralize the story, it feels extremely weird that the way this incident shows up in the movie is for her to check her phone and ask Twohey and Rebecca Corbett if they know the name of the person who called her, because they're trying to get her to speak at some conference. That's it. No further context is given. So at this point, from the Jerusalem Post article, it's clear that there is a big backstory in which Weinstein is trying to use Kantor's Jewishness to stop her writing; but from the audience's perspective, all we see is that there's a well-known understanding among Jews that we'll all have each other's backs. In reality, Weinstein is trying to use shared heritage in a nefarious way that Kantor is not okay with; in fact, he's using it to target her in a very malevolent way, meaning that she's actually experiencing harassment from Weinstein specifically because she is writing this story while Jewish; but we don't get nearly enough context in the movie to know that. Instead, we see vague references to an antisemitic conspiracy which the character version of Kantor just sort of accepts matter-of-factly. And this other extremely important aspect of her interaction with Weinstein is not connected back to Weinstein at all, or in fact back to... anything.

Part 4: There is a long scene in which Kantor appeals to shared heritage with Weinstein's accountant, Irwin Reiter, to try to get him to trust her. There is a lot of screentime given to the fact that they both grew up going to the Catskills every summer, and that they're both descendants of Holocaust survivors. There are several minutes devoted to this onscreen, with very sort of ... almost titillating? ... references to the numbers tattooed onto Kantor's grandmother's arms. It's a lot of screentime. And at the end, Reiter trusts her and develops a relationship with her and ends up giving her a bunch of evidence that was important to the story. So the implication is that the trust happened in large part because of their shared heritage. Which would seem to reinforce the idea of the antisemitic conspiracy theory; it kind of looks like Kantor is telling Reiter a password and this password unlocks more access than she otherwise would have gotten. When, in reality, this is New York in the 2010s, and it's very common to be Jewish; so just being Jewish and the descendant of survivors doesn't really get you anywhere on its own. So this also sounded a false note for me. Kantor talks about this in the Jerusalem Post interview, and her description of how this interaction went sounded extremely different from how it was portrayed:

"I quickly figured out that Irwin and I were from the same small world. He was the child of survivors and had also spent his summers at bungalow colonies in the Catskills just down the road from mine. I don’t bring up the Holocaust a lot. It’s a sacred matter for me, and I didn’t do it lightly. But once I discovered that we did have this really powerful connection in our backgrounds, I did gently sound it with him – I felt that was sincere and real. Because he was making such a critical decision: Weinstein’s accountant of 30 years is still working for the guy by day and he’s meeting with me at night. And I felt like I did need to go to that place with him, saying, 'Okay, Irwin, we both know that there are people who talk and there are people who don’t. And we both grew up around that mix of people and what do we think is the difference? And also if you know if you have the chance to act and intervene in a bad situation, are you going to take it?' We didn’t talk a lot about it, because I raised it and he didn’t want to fully engage. But I always felt like that was under the surface of our conversations, and he made a very brave decision to help us."

The depiction in the film is not emphasized as though it's a gentle, light-touch, short interaction. They do talk about it a lot. And that seems weird to me, that so much is made of it in such an overt way, when that really isn't how Kantor describes the tone of it at all. She did float their similarities to him in conversation, but this wasn't enough to unlock his trust. Because of course it wasn't!

So in summary... the ways in which Kantor's Jewishness shows up in the film She Said are a real fun-house mirror of the way they showed up in real life. Nothing seems fabricated, but there are ways in which Weinstein tried to use their common heritage against her which were really underemphasized, and ways in which Kantor appealed to common heritage with Reiter which were really overemphasized, and the overall effect makes it look like both types of appeals held the same moral value. Like it was equally reasonable and normal for Lisa Bloom to talk "Jew-to-Jew" with Kantor on Weinstein's behalf, and for Kantor to talk "Jew-to-Jew" with Reiter. The entire idea that there is such a thing as "talking Jew-to-Jew" with someone as part of a bid to influence the outcome of some professional endeavor is actually put forth by the film as a thesis. It's presented as though this is an activity Jews engage in with one another (specifically, in the fields of film, media, and accounting) with the expectation that they will be successful in getting a fellow Jew to do what they want. That is a pretty sneaky way of introducing and reaffirming an antisemitic conspiracy theory, and totally ironing out the background context there, as well as the vast differences in tone between the two interactions.

#jumblr #she said #antisemitism in film

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

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RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

#i call this fic how many commas can i use in one sentence?#i think this is by far the most crack thing ive written #poor jess #in this house we worship and praise jess the secretary and her thrity second cameo in that ONE scene #if u see a typo no u didnt #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts

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specialagentsergio · 3 years

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baby kiss it better

summary: When D.C. implements a lockdown order, you and Spencer decide to quarantine together. There’s just one problem—he’s working from home, and his coworkers don’t know about you.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: a few swear words, but otherwise it’s just fluff

a/n: ahh, the secret partner trope. how i love it. this is set in 2020, but with the season 5 cast! i was feeling particularly self-indulgent, so i made reader a night shift worker. this is for you, fellow night owls. stay safe out there everyone, and wear a mask!

a/n 2: i don’t actually know what a doctor or physical therapist would recommend for spencer’s knee injury. this is just going on my basic understanding of anatomy (i took a class in it this fall!) and what i've seen on grey’s anatomy lol.

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

Spencer tries not to grimace as he shifts in his chair. Working from home during the lockdown had initially seemed like it came at a great time, starting just a month after his knee injury. Sure, he wasn’t thrilled about having to do almost everything digitally, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being mobile.

Unfortunately, that had turned out to be a downside. Tethered to his seat by headphones, he hasn’t been able to get up and stretch his leg properly, and as a result, is experiencing more pain.

It’s only 8:30, but he can already feel it flaring up. It’s been happening earlier every day, likely due to the existing irritation from the day before. Today is Thursday, and he’s miserable—he dreads to think of what tomorrow will be like.

He’s wondering if there’s some way he could get out of work tomorrow when he hears the sound of the front door being unlocked. He looks up to see you pushing the door open with your shoulder, carrying far too many grocery bags than is reasonable.

“Be careful!” he exclaims, watching as you teeter to the side a little. You just wave him off and close the door with your heel.

Working from home may not have been the positive he was expecting it to be, but you’ve more than made up for it. The two of you had decided to quarantine together, and he’s really loved having you around. Granted, you’ve only been here since Sunday, but he’s starting to think that this is going to end with him asking you to move in with him for good.

He hears a thunk as you dump all the groceries on the kitchen table. Then you’re back in the living room, taking off your mask as you walk by so you can blow him a kiss. He presses his knuckles to his mouth to hide his smile.

Usually you give him a proper cheek or forehead kiss when you get home, but the team doesn’t know about you yet. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping you a secret, he just... likes having you to himself, and he doesn’t really want it to change just yet.

He’s also not looking forward to the pitch Garcia’s voice is going to hit when she finds out he’s been dating someone for over a year without telling her.

“Are you listening, Reid?” Hotch’s voice makes Spencer focus back in on the screen.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking that this choice of rope to bind the victims is interesting.” He doles out a few facts about it, which seems to do an adequate job of convincing everyone that he’s paying attention.

They take a break when the main briefing is over—Jack needs something from Hotch and Sergio has apparently knocked something breakable off of Emily’s kitchen counter. He slides his headphones off and mutes his mic. Apparently that’s a cue you’ve been waiting for, because only a few moments later you’re placing a mug of tea on his desk.

“Green tea,” you say. “Might help reduce the inflammation in your knee.” Then you’re lifting his foot off the small stool it’s resting on and sliding another pillow under it so his leg is more elevated.

“Wh—“ he starts, but you’re already hurrying back into the kitchen. You come back with a baggie of ice wrapped in a dishtowel in your hands, which you place it gently on top of his knee.

“Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,” you say. “Then repeat with heat instead, like your physical therapist said. I’ll get the heating pad from the bedroom.”

“Hey, wait.” Spencer snags your wrists before you can walk away again. “How’d you know it was hurting?”

“Oh, I always know,” you reply. “You should have realized that by now.”

He thinks on that as you leave to get the heating pad, sipping his tea. You do always seem to just know, whether he’s in physical pain, a bad case is bothering him, or even if he’s just in a bad mood and doesn’t know why himself.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t feel incredibly lucky to have you in his life.

“I’m leaving it by this outlet behind you. Have you been doing your stretches?”

He bites his lip, hesitating because he knows you won’t like the answer. But he doesn’t have to say it; you can tell from his expression.

“Spencer. You know you need to be doing them.”

“I know, I do,” he insists. “I just... can’t really get up and do them with these headphones.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so take them off. Your laptop has speakers.”

“But I don’t want to disturb you,” he protests. Since you work the night shift, you sleep during the day, usually heading to bed around 11 AM. He doesn’t want the noise from the Zoom calls to keep you up. Much like the bullpen in the FBI building, the calls can get rowdy.

“You won’t,” you assure. “I’ll just shut the bedroom door.”

“I guess that works,” he relents. “But I feel weird getting up and stretching in front of everyone. Like, wouldn’t that be disruptive?”

You sigh. “Spencer, I understand it’ll make you self-conscious, but you want full mobility in your knee again, right?”

“Yeah, I do, I get it,” he says sullenly, looking down into his mug. “I need to do the stretches if I want it to heal well.”

“Hey.” You take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I’m not trying to annoy you. I just want you to get better and be in less pain. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

“You’re not annoying me. I guess I’m just... not really used to being taken care of,” he admits quietly.

“Well, I’m gonna fix that.”

The confidence in your voice makes him unable to hold back a smile. “Alright.”

You smile back. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Spencer’s about to tell you that you’ve done plenty when an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side. “Well, there is something.”

“Yes?”

“There’s some research—nothing too substantial, but still some—that says kisses can help relieve pain,” he says.

You laugh, but it’s not unkind. “Oh, so you want me to kiss it better?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing away shyly.

“Okay, then.” You tuck his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his forehead. “Better?” you ask softly.

He hums. “Better.”

“Good.” You stand back up and stretch. “Well, I’ll be awake for a few more hours, so let me know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Spencer puts his headphones back on—he wants to wait to unplug them until you go to bed to spare you from hearing anything gruesome—and looks back at the screen to find Morgan, Emily, JJ, and Garcia staring him down. Rather hesitantly, he unmutes his mic and asks, “What?”

Emily is grinning—she looks the more awake than she has all morning. “Is there anything you wanna tell us?” she asks.

“Yeah, Spence,” JJ chimes in, “any new developments in your life?”

“I don’t—” he starts, then it hits him like a truck. He remembered to mute his mic, but the camera was still on. Clearly, they all saw you kiss his forehead. He barely stops himself from hitting his head against the table; he covers his face with his hands instead and groans.

“Isn’t the whole point of all this that we stay away from other people?” Morgan asks, and Spencer doesn’t have to look up to know that Derek has a shit-eating grin on his face.

“People outside of your household,” he corrects without thinking.

“Oh my god!” Garcia shrieks and he winces, pulling the headphones off out of instinct. He’s not the only one—JJ jumps and yanks her earbuds out, and Derek lifts one side of his headphones away from his ear. Spencer hesitantly copies him, putting one half of his headphones back on.

“Jesus, Pen, you scared the shit out of Sergio,” Emily’s saying.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” she says, then turns her attention completely to Spencer. “Boy wonder. You’re living with someone and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“I mean, you never asked,” he points out.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d have to!” she huffs. “You usually tell your friends if you’re seeing someone new, let alone living with them!”

“You do, maybe. Emily and I don’t,” he says.

Emily herself shrugs. “Good point. Fair enough, Reid.”

“Besides, we’re not living together,” he continues, “We’re quarantining together.”

“Right, because that’s such a big difference,” JJ teases. He glares at her in return.

Rossi returns to his desk before Penelope can start bombarding Spencer with questions. But there’s no reprieve for him—the man takes one look around and knows something’s up. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asks.

“We just found out pretty boy has a partner,” Morgan sing-songs before Spencer can say anything.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“And he didn’t tell any of us!” Garcia adds.

Spencer groans again and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” he mutters.

A knocking sound draws his attention away from the call. You’re standing in the bedroom doorway, your hand resting on the doorframe. “You okay?” you ask. “I just heard you groan.”

Spencer mutes his mic again and then leans over so he’s out of the camera’s frame. “They found out,” he sighs.

“Found out what?”

“Found out about... you.”

Realization crosses your face. “They saw me kissing you better?”

“Yeah. I forgot the camera was still on,” he says sheepishly.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” You make your way over to him and take the ice off his knee. “It’s been twenty minutes, by the way.”

“Thanks. So, um...” He picks up the fidget toy you bought him when he was going stir-crazy in the hospital and starts messing with it. “What do you wanna do about this?”

“Whatever you’re most comfortable with,” you reply immediately.

“Okay, good answer,” he says. “But I actually want to know how you feel about this.”

“Well, I’m fine with meeting them, even if it’s just over Zoom. But if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that, too. Really,” you add when he raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well.” Spencer looks back at the screen. Hotch has returned now, and even though he can’t hear anything, it’s clear they’re all waiting on him. Best to just do this now, he thinks, otherwise I’ll be hearing about it all day. “How would you feel about meeting them right now?”

You blink. “Um, okay. So long as you don’t mind me looking like I was up all night, because, you know... I was.”

“You look fine,” he reassures. “Uh, just stay put for a second. Let me ask if this is okay.”

He readjusts to sit in his chair properly. He starts to put his headphones back on, but you unplug them so you can hear what’s happening.

“You ready to continue, Reid?” Hotch asks. It’s business as usual with him—if he was told what happened earlier, Spencer can’t tell.

“Well, actually,” he starts, and nervousness bubbles up in his chest. He glances up and you give him a reassuring smile. “Actually, I was wondering if I could introduce you guys to someone first?”

Garcia squeals. “Ooh, sir, please say yes!”

“Just keep it quick,” Hotch says. He didn’t even hesitate—they totally told him.

Spencer takes a deep breath, then gestures for you to come over. You seem a little nervous as well, but you handle it well, walking around the desk and into the frame. “Oh, we should have gotten you something to sit on,” he laments when you lean over the back of his chair.

“It’s fine.” You drape your arms around his shoulders and adjust so your head is on the same level as his. It’s silent for a moment, then you say, “Well, introduce me, silly.”

“Oh!” He clears his throat, trying to ignore the heat he feels in his cheeks. “Um, this is (Y/N). My... my partner.”

The call explodes with greetings, everyone talking over each other. “Slow down, slow down,” Spencer pleads. This is all overwhelming enough—he doesn’t need any excess stimuli.

Once it settles, everyone takes their turn introducing themselves (you already know who they all are, though, as he’s told you so much about them). Then you field a few questions—what you do for work, how you met, what your favorite food is (that was Rossi—Spencer suspects that he wants to know for the first dinner party he can hold after quarantine is over).

It’s going well. Everyone seems to like you, and you’re getting by just fine. Until Garcia asks her question, that is.

“So, (Y/N), how long has boy wonder been keeping you a secret from us?”

Both of you tense. “Uh, you know what, I’ll let him answer that,” you say quickly. “It’s just about time for me to go to bed.”

“Wha—no. No, it’s not. It’s just barley past nine,” Spencer protests.

“Yeah, I’m really tired. I’m gonna try and get some extra sleep today.” You give a little wave. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. “Not with that question.”

You feign a yawn. “Sorry, I’m just too tired.”

He watches you go back to the bedroom with a pout.

“Well?” Garcia insists when he looks back at her.

Spencer cringes and preemptively lowers his computer volume.

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

tell me what you thought here!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #fluff #my fic #yes i watch grey's what about it

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY???#fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

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eve-is-obsessed · 3 years

Text

1x02 I’LL DEAL WITH HIM LATER rewatch

spoilers for all of Killing Eve. my musings on how V and Eve are set up in this episode and how that affects the rest of the show.

I have to start this post with a shout out to the hair/ wardrobe department bc V's jacket and braids in the opening scene are *perfect.*

and in that scene, when the man throws the phone at her and immediately apologizes? peak humor

awkward meeting between Eve and Carolyn characterizes Eve so well!!! She’s so socially inept and uncomfortable and in awe of Carolyn but also cares SO DEEPLY about her passion project. plus it's just very funny

Carolyn telling Eve “You can have two [coworkers].” *Looks around* “I recommend small ones” is SO GOOD. doesn't top the rat drinking soda with both hands, but still.

Sebastian 🥺 he is doing his best and being a model boyfriend and V didn’t deserve him. Also his accent is so cute. But he did steal the perfume from his girlfriend’s purse so maybe he should have thought that one through

V's iconic "I wanted it to match my jacket" response to her black eye. That is all.

Konstantin is literally always in V's apartment. I forgot how much Konstantin/ Villanelle there is in S1. but like. every time V goes home, he's there. If I actually spend time thinking about this, I realize that it's probably to impress upon the viewers that 1) V literally has no one in her life except for him (she kind of killed her boyfriend, so) and 2) that he is In ChargeTM and wants to keep a close eye on V, but that actually V just does whatever the hell she wants. she likes being in control, she likes being a little bit rebellious, but she also cares about Konstantin and about doing her job well.

similar characterization in the psych eval - V wants to be in control of her situation all the time, and the way she does that is by manipulating the people around her and how they perceive her. everything is a performance to V, and it's fun for her. even the touching scene with Konstantin, when she hugs him, it's to get her drawing back. maybe there was real emotion there (I think it's likely there was, because V does seem to genuinely care about Konstantin) but her actions are still to achieve a goal. she only really starts acting erratically when Eve comes into the equation, because she can't entirely control or "use" her feelings towards Eve.

also, while we're talking about the drawing, interesting that she says it's not Anna, it's her mother, but then immediately makes a joke about her mother's hair. as far as I can remember, this is the only time that V mentions her mother, ever, and it's just to deflect attention with humor.

first example of tension in Eve and Niko's relationship, with the suitcase and the "are you leaving me?" joke. Eve doesn't tell Niko where she's going until pressed, and this lack of consideration clearly (and understandably) hurts him. also, the suitcase is stowed away, dusty, etc, showing that it's really never used. when is the last time Eve took a vacation? apparently a long time ago. continues characterizing her life as boring, mundane, even trapped, and shows the MI6 job as an escape from that.

and the second conflict between Eve and Niko sets up another theme in their relationship - arguing about how dangerous the job is. Niko just wants Eve to be safe, but Eve doesn't care about her safety (or arguably anyone else's), she wants to catch Villanelle. She wants her life to be exciting, even (especially?) at the expense of safety. so their core desires clash, and maybe they could have made it work, but Eve, as we see here, isn't really willing to listen to Niko and just brushes him off as often as she can. basically, upon rewatching, I can see this early that they're doomed as a couple. (and I'm salty that their relationship lasted SO FAR into the third season. ew.)

gonna talk about Bill for a sec - in 1x01, his relationship with Eve is clearly boss/ employee, but they have good banter and genuinely like each other. when the situation is flipped in this ep, Bill comes off as a jerk, constantly undermining Eve and trying to invalidate her ideas. in the next ep, this seems completely resolved because the viewer is supposed to like Bill before he dies tragically... ooof. I'll be nice to Bill and assume that his rude behavior in this ep is more a result of him trying to cope with the new power dynamic than misogyny, although it's probably some of both.

end of episode!!! here comes the gay panic because THEY BOTH REALIZE AT THE SAME TIME THAT THEY'VE MET BEFORE. and that incredibly charged first interaction that they've both been thinking about turns out to actually have been REALLY IMPORTANT. and Eve's "I think I've met her" - she's not scared, she's EXCITED. aaaaaa. these bitches gay.

overall, a solid episode. V kills some more people, Eve obsesses some more... classic. 10/10. also, this didn't really fit into my analysis, but Elena is very pretty and I love her.

ok I'm done blabbing for now. 1x03 post coming soon, 1x01 linked here. love you all <3

#killing eve #killing eve analysis #killing eve 1x02 #villanelle #eve polastri #villaneve

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riverdale-retread · 3 years

Text

Riverdale S5 E8 Lock & Key

5 Things I loved/ 3 Things to Consider

I loved this:

1. THE KEY PARTY was excellent and ultra high stratospheric camp, that you can only appreciate if you really know the show. Achieving this tone- ‘this isn’t how things are but wouldn’t it be so amusing if it was?’ - is very difficult, and I felt rewarded for the close attention I’ve paid to the show. Further, at this sex party they have a heavily pregnant lady, and the only person who is in any way apprehensive that he might get paired with her is Reggie - everyone else is like, It’s fine. And also? The majority of the invitees have ALREADY had sex with each other, and almost all of them are also currently cohabitants and/or coworkers and/or doing joint projects, in various states of married, long-term relationship, casual hookup and courting. Just, absolute catnip I tell you!

Sidebar: Again CHADWICK FUCKING GECKO being SANE, and objecting to Veronica drawing Archie’s key with - NOT WITH YOUR EX. I mean, why does this always happen to me??? Why am I *Chad*?

2. I loved Betty in this episode. Just fell in love with her like I am flippin’ Jughead.

#1: Betty is so very sexy. Wow I was so not ready. Her in the FBI T shirt & him in fire fighter gear! Yeah it’s good looking people in actual Halloween costumes, but what makes it work is Betty's reaction - electrified, then amused and looking forward to a good time. Love this for grown Betty.

#2: Betty is so very wounded and vulnerable, and by her estimation lovers / boyfriends will never stand by her, but friends will. I love me a character in romantic anguish.

And related, #3, and yes, this may be wishful thinking, but there are hints that Betty actually feels the impact of what she did to Jughead and Veronica in her Senior year. Why else would Betty think that engaging in an actual adult romantic relationship with Archie for real will cause the light to go out and the haven bubble to collapse? Oh Betty. She’s so accepting about Archie abandoning her immediately after she told him she wasn’t mentally/emotionally well because she feels both ruined and like a ruinous force.

Finally #4, the kindness and care Betty shows to her mother, who does not deserve it, made me respect her a lot.

Sidebar to give Archie Andrews a Demerit: Betty has a single emotion in front of Archie (waking up from a trauma nightmare) and Archie (who woke up from a trauma nightmare first thing after the time jump) is just unwilling or unable to provide the necessary commitment. He in fact decides RIGHT THEN that Betty needing extra support (of the kind he needs, in fact) means Veronica is the answer. (Archie, please redeem yourself. Tell me what’s happening with you soon).

3. The only reason the high camp works though is because there’s a grounding in reality, with believable human emotions providing a solid foundation, and boy this episode really delivered!

The shaky breath Jughead lets out after he says Billy (character in the novel he’s teaching) might be crazy right after he sees MOTHMAN. Love this detail. The shame and pain Jughead goes through, writhing with his whole little face, while confessing that he’d been a reckless drug user and drinker to Tabitha, who sweetly feels some of that pain with him, was heartrending.

The ‘you are a jackass’ face that Archie makes at Chad while also SMILING (because that is how he looks handsomest) in reaction to Chad dude-bro-ing him with ‘females’ and ‘podunk town,’ without even bothering to reply to his dickhead question, is wonderful.

And most heartbreaking - Fangs’ laughter that presages a dawning realization that Kevin really intends to implode (his words) their whole life and his gentle tone in trying to figure out what the hell his boyfriend is doing was very upsetting and wonderful. Apparently, over the past 8 years, Fangs has been trying to give Kevin everything he wanted - monogamy, non monogamy, the baby, the marriage - only to have it go up in smoke.

4. Now that the characters are older, they can meet a wider array of adults and I really appreciate this - the expansion of the world of the show. Who knows if she appears again, but I very much liked this anthropology professor who has segued into creating a support group for the disturbed people she meets while she pursues her very esoteric interest in alien encounters. Minerva the campy lesbian art collector who wants an Original Cheryl Blossom and Rick the gay trucker who is like, the most sexually easy going man in the history of humanity are really fun additions too.

5. And this last one is going to sound mean spirited but I love what is happening to Alice Cooper. She was so horrendous and monstrous to both her daughters - I mean between Betty and Polly it’s really hard to tell who had it harder from Alice - and she is having to atone for the damage she did to her smart, resilient girls by the peril that Polly is now in. Polly, despite being born in Riverdale, could’ve been another Betty in terms of accomplishment - academic and career - but Alice just bashed her head in, basically, and now look where we are. So, suffer for your sins, Alice Cooper.

3 Things to Think About

a) Toni has “a medical condition that makes it harder for her to get pregnant the older she gets.” This is called BEING A HOMO SAPIEN. I was so amused by this that I actually looked up the production notes and this episode was written by a woman (!) and directed by another woman (!!) and the scene is acted out by two women (!!!) one of whom was actually pregnant at the time in real life (!!!!) so now I’m like, Wait, is Cheryl…an immortal? Is Cheryl somehow not 100% homo-sapien and that’s why Toni says this?

b) I gathered yet more evidence that Archie is a Riverdale-HS-Sexual. Archie is in the teacher lounge at Riverdale High talking remodelling plans with Veronica, who says she needs big changes, and he immediately switches into Let’s Fuck mode. When Jughead innocently asks what the blueprints are for, Archie TOTALLY acts like he got cockblocked.

c) The long pointy-nailed manicures on the lesbian couple’s fingers REALLY bother me. More than 20-something almost-perfect-SAT scorers Cheryl and Toni not understanding that human fertility wanes with age. I will just say that.

#riverdale positivity #riverdale s5

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niuniente · 3 years

Text

Cards have been SCREAMING at me that I need to start receiving and stop giving to others. That I’m putting others a way too much before me.

“Nonsense! I have already cut down my working times, I’m resting, sleeping etc. I have isolated myself in my home and cut contact to most of the people because I need to rest now. I’m doing fine!” I thought.

But, the message kept repeating so I asked the Spirit while going to sleep to tell me what do I need to do differently. I had two similar nightmares:

1) I lived in a small house, that was an outdoor building with 3 rooms sized of a closet. I used to live in the main building together with my coworker and his wife. Now, I had nothing in that house anymore. The couple was ready to get to bed and the coworker said to his wife “I need an extra pillow”. The wife replied that he can’t have her extra pillow because he will toss and turn and ruin it.

I replied that I can give one of my old pillows. Now, I didn’t have any extra pillows. I needed those myself but I was ready to give the ones I had because they were not that good anymore and I had been planning on buying a new one anyway.

I had to fetch my pillow for him. The hallway had no light, nor did the outside so I had to run back to my “home” in darkness, with no help, and the area was haunted, too. Like my home. There lived an evil poltergeist. It kept opening doors and windows and sure enough, when I got (alive) back home, it had opened everything again.

I got angry and told it it has to go. But then, I said “Listen. You take this room with the bed. This nice room. I can take the next room.”

The next room had only a thin mattress on the floor and no door, so it had no privacy and all noises and voices around the house would carry over to my bedroom. It had no windows either.

SO I FRIGGING GAVE MY PILLOW I NEEDED, GAVE MY BEDROOM, GAVE MY NICE HOME, GAVE MY SPACE, GAVE MY PRIVACY AND GOOD NIGHT SLEEP, TO SOMEONE ELSE.

2) My boss asked me to go get a birthday present for a coworker who had a birthday. I went to get it very far with a bike, going just uphills the whole way. The coworker heard I was heading to the city where he lived and he called my boss, inquiring if she could ask me to fetch his clothes from his home because he wasn’t feeling like getting them himself. My boss said no.

I get into the city and decided to take a shortcut through this industrial building inner yard. My classmate was working there and I noticed there were ending their workday and closing the place up. I went to the front yard but the front door was shutting already. I called my classmate asking how I can get through here and she said to go to my left to a ramp and find Pete. He would let me out.

I went to the ramp and saw this quicksilver like liquid dropping down from the ceiling. My classmate gasped “Oh no!” I thought it was nothing serious. I got to the ramp’s end. There was this “container” with a glass roof and inside the container were the workers. Then, I noticed there was something wrong with the air; they were doing a test and running some toxic chemical in the air. I immediately hold my breath and kicked the glass underneath me to catch people’s attention. It took really long! Finally one man spotted me and he got horrified but no one moved a muscle to come to help me out.

The situation looped and again the people didn’t notice me despite my kicking, until the same man saw me again and was horrified again. For the people int he “container” this was a loop, but for me time was linear. I was loosing my breath so I took a risk and gasped in air, despite that my throat hurt, and held my breath.

NOW, FINALLY, two men ran out with gas masks. I thought I was fine because I was able to climb down effortlessly. The man nearest me asked if I was okay and laid me down. Then he saw my face and started to scream in horror. His coworker also saw my face and looked horrified. I wondered what was wrong - probably my eyes were bleeding or something. I felt myself just fine.

SO, AGAIN A DREAM WHERE I DO THINGS FOR OTHERS. No one helped me when I needed it! I got myself in danger because of putting others before me and apparently I was like dying, but I didn’t realize it. I felt just fine, like, why are these gas mask guys screaming here?

So, tl.dr: I’m really still thinking and considering others too much while not getting any help, support, etc. in return (aka they don’t think about me). I’m giving everything, even my comfort, to others. I’m risking my life. I’m slowly “dying” without realizing it because I’m so used to poisoning myself with this toxic gas that is other peoples’ needs. I can’t see what is it doing to me myself, though I have some hints (like “poltergeist here, toxic gas, well, better not breath it too much”).

I can tell that I’m not OK but I wasn’t expecting it to be this serious. Sure, I have never had this long period of not drawing, having no inspiration and having a very low levels of vitality and energy. But I thought it’s OK when it’s NOT. It’s a prolonged chronic stress and I have to become very, very selfish in all levels of my life if I want to “live”. I just can’t pinpoint my finger at the problem but I guess it is like the Spirit is saying; less responsibilities now, more play and fun times.

#IDK how it got to this or to this bad #niu dreams #tldr

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shyvioletcat · 4 years

Note

could we get a part 3 of zoom interrupted? it's so good!!!

I didn’t edit this one too hard so sorry about that.

Part 1 // Part 2

~~~~~

Rowan sat down and booted up his computer, Elsie hugged to his chest in one arm. The poor thing was upset, Aelin was feeling miserable and nauseous and just needed some space, some things their one year old daughter was struggling to understand. Elsie had cried as Rowan had carried her out of the bedroom, Aelin curled beneath the blanket apologising to the both of them. Rowan had told her not to worry about it, if Elsie sat with him or played in the room while he was on the video conference, his coworkers would just have to deal with it.

He signed in and after a few moments everyone else did, murmuring hellos that perked up once they saw Elsie is Rowan’s arms. She was having none of it though and just buried her face in her father’s neck with a small whine. The only shot that had remained free of people was Lorcan’s which was odd, as he was the one running the show.

“Where’s the boss?” Vaughan asked. “He’s signed in obviously, but where is he?”

No one else seemed to have an answer. Rowan looked at his own video stream, checking to see if Elsie had cheered up any. She hadn’t, she was still frowning, gripping onto the collar of his tshirt.

Finally Lorcan appeared, and everyone sat up a little straighter. It wasn’t often that the man looked frazzled, but today it seemed was one of those days. The reason for it was apparent.

Rowan leaned his head down to whisper to his daughter. “Hey, Elsie. Look who it is.”

Elsie raised her head up a little and on the screen Rowan watched as her face split into a wide grin.

“Korby!” She all but squealed.

Lorcan’s two year old son sat on his knee, all dark hair and eyes, his face lighting up as Elsie called out his name. He was immediately standing up and leaning on the desk with the hand that held a dinosaur toy and waving furiously with the other.

“Hi, Essie. Hi!” Korbin said, leaning in closer. “I playing Dad,” he explained.

“Dada,” Elsie said, then it was followed by a stream of babble he couldn’t interpret that ended with Korbin’s name.

He assumed it had to do with him being on the screen so Rowan said, “Yeah, there he is.”

Elsie clapped and Korbin giggled. Rowan glanced at the other faces on the chat, they were all beaming, even Lorcan.

But Lorcan then cleared his throat, hiding most of his smile as he said, “Elide had to do a grocery run. Didn’t realise we were almost out of nappies.”

“Well, well, well, look at Mr Professional,” Fenrys quipped, arms crossed and swinging his chair side to side.

There were in fact a few audible groans and Lorcan just flat out ignored him.

“How is Aelin doing?” Gavriel asked.

“She’s doing alright, the nausea has picked up so she’s feeling pretty miserable at the moment. Just needed some space,” Rowan said, inclining his head to Elsie.

Just then Korbin raised his dinosaur to the screen and roared. That had Elsie descending into a fit of giggles, so he did it again. Everyone was smiling or laughing.

“Alright, I know we’ve got two toddlers in the meeting but can we try and get something done?” Lorcan prompted but the effect of his words missed their mark a little with the smirk on his face.

They all started going over what they needed too for the meeting but everyone was only half paying attention because they were too busy watching the show the toddlers were putting on. Elsie watched Korbin’s every move, a smile on her face. Korbin seemed to cotton on to the fact she was practically enchanted with him and made sure he kept her attention.

“Essie, see. I put it head!” Korbin said as he put his dinosaur toy on his head then moved from side to side. Elsie watched with her little hands clasped in front of her. Then Elsie instigated a raspberry blowing competition that had to be called off because of how wet the screens were getting. Their game of peekaboo had everyone in near hysterics. Korbin soon realised that Elsie liked when he played with Lorcan, interrupting him and taking his glasses or the piece of paper he was holding. Korbin turned, tapping at Lorcan’s face with his little hand, “Dad. Dad, Dad, daddy,” he repeated that over and over until Lorcan finally relented and stopped the train of thought he was on.

“Yes, son,” he said, looking down at Korbin affectionately.

“I like dadasaurs,” was Korbin’s very serious reply.

Everyone tried not to laugh but failed. Lorcan just sighed but then tickled Korbin’s sides which had both him and Elsie laughing, then he said, “I like dinosaurs too.”

“Aww, look at that. My heart is just all warm and fuzzy,” Fenrys teased. He was saved from any scathing remarks by Elide coming in.

“Sorry about that boys,” she said as she stood by Lorcan’s shoulder. “How is everyone?”

Everyone replied with variations of ‘good’ and ‘doing well’. But Fenrys was grinning, which only meant trouble. Elide sent a confused look to Lorcan who just rolled his eyes.

“Get everything you needed?” Fenrys said.

“I think so,” Elide said, her voice lilting in her confusion. “Just needed some essentials.”

“Essentials, huh? You get all the essentials, Elide?” Fenrys asked and Rowan felt himself inwardly groan at his tone. “Was contraception on the list? You don’t want to end up like the Galathynius-Whitethorn household.”

Realisation dawned on Elide’s face and then her eyes narrowed. It seemed Fenrys wasn’t done yet.

“Just ask Fenrys, we don’t have time for this,” Connall interjected.

“So, when are you guys giving Korbin a —“

“If you ask me when we’re having another baby I swear I will reach through this screen and strangle you myself,” Elide said, pointing a finger at him.

Fenrys raised his hands in defeat but Rowan, and everyone else, could see the mischief still dancing in his eyes.

Korbin reached for his mother and Elide took that as her cue to go and told him to say goodbye. Korbin waved to everyone, except Elsie who was momentarily distracted by her drawing.

“She’ll be pregnant before this quarantine is over,” Fenrys whispered. But his smile turned into a cringe when Elide’s voice came from off screen.

“I heard that! You better watch yourself, moon moon!”

Everyone tried to hide their laughter, cautious of not bringing Elide’s wrath down on them as well.

Then Fenrys pointed at Rowan. “Case and point,” he said and Rowan glared at him. Fenrys only scoffed, “Don’t look at me like that. It was all you.”

“What was all him?” Aelin asked, she’d snuck into the room while they were all distracted.

Gavriel didn’t give Fenrys a chance to reply. “Don’t you say one more word,” he said. Seemed Gavriel was understandably growing tired of hearing about his niece’s sex life. “Mute him right now, Lorcan. Before he can say anything else.”

Rowan looked at Aelin, she looked exhausted but she chuckled softly at the antics of Rowan’s coworkers.

“I’m surprised you don’t just mute him from the start,” Aelin added.

“That’s rude, I contribute a lot to this company,” Fenrys said.

Aelin tilted her head questioningly. “Are you sure?”

Fenrys flipped her off and she gasped, covering Elsie’s eyes. “There are children present, Mr Moonbeam!”

Rowan smiled and put a hand on the small of Aelin’s back. She looked over at him, her features softened by a small smile. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Aelin nodded but before she could reply, Elsie looked up at the screen and saw that Korbin was gone. “Korby?”

She said his name a few times, getting more and more distressed. Aelin picked her up, with a little help from Rowan, and hugged her close. “Why don’t we go call Korby, huh? Leave Daddy to work.”

Everyone called out goodbyes as Elsie left the room, she was much too sad to reply this time.

“So...” Fenrys said. “We done?”

“No,” was Lorcan’s firm and unquestioning reply.

Rowan chuckled as he found the right page of his notes, and he kept smiling as he heard Elsie’s laughter coming from the living room, no doubt reunited with her Zoom buddy.

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @average-girl-at-best // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @queen-of-glass // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

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September 10: Friday

I just had this feeling this morning like I didn’t want to go to work and eh... that was probably right. Nothing really bad happened, I just felt very strongly that I did NOT want to be there.

My coworker wanted to talk to me at like 8:30 in the morning (you know those silly little ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee’ signs?? literally do not talk to me before 9:30 EARLIEST) and I was supremely incoherent. Then later a different coworker essentially took out his bad mood on my department including on me personally, and it was... dumb. I got his point but I’m just, as I tried to explain to others later, unkeen on being talked to about actions I took under others’ explicit instructions. Also, in part because of that, in part because I thought he was semi-unreasonable, and in part because I just truly didn’t want to do what he was asking/telling me to do, I did not really budge on the issue. Which was very awkward because as I said I did get his point. And of course the issue is SOMETHING DUMB which is always how it is. All of these fights are 100% shit that would sound idiotic if you tried to explain it to someone else, which is why I’m vaguing right now.

And the nametags thing came up on Teams (thanks @ the same coworker), and the only good thing about that is that the director explicitly said she was against the idea so I feel pretty confident that it won’t be mandated. Also I could detect some panic in other people about it. I do NOT like the way this is being handled AT ALL. Plus it’s just the hill I’ve decided to die on (because I think I can win--so I guess it’s better to say this is the hill I’m going to defeat my enemies on) so I gotta get annoyed at it. I refrained from contributing to the conversation but I did like the director’s anti-nametag post, which I think gets my point across.

Also I felt like I spent a lot of time doing not much, to be honest. Still didn’t go to stupid compact shelving. Devoted too much time to the crap in the above paragraphs. Talked to BL over in admin and heard some more unflattering stories about a particular administrator. Like, incredibly unflattering. Which is stuff I do want to know but it contributes to the overall Mood of the day, which again is ‘I don’t want to be here.’

I took a very late lunch, and that in turn contributed to me not paying enough attention to the time and leaving late.OH AND I got 3 important emails in the last ten minutes of the day. Two were very expected because they were coming from the West Coast but the last was like.. do not make me deal with this right now.

I didn’t deal with almost any of it but I did get so distracted that I left about five minutes late, and so I missed the bus. I wasn’t too upset about it since the weather was nice anyway and I didn’t mind spending some time downtown. But I did waste time trying to see if I could catch said bus, and then more time trying to go to my favorite coffee shop, which had closed at 5. But since it was 5:15, there were still people inside (cleaning up, which is fair) and people outside (drinking coffees they’d bought before 5 I’m sure, also fair), and the sign said hours were until 7 so I spent a few confused, embarrassing moments going ????? what is the truth?

So ultimately I went to a different cafe, a newish one that opened in 2019 I think. I’ve always avoided it in part because the floor is very loud and in part because I felt like I was cheating on my main place lol. (Not that I never get coffee anywhere else... just that this place is so close to my usual place, I always feel like, if I’m in the area, I might as well go to said usual place.) I did find the inside very disorienting. The pattern of the floor is just truly A Lot. They did have these weird teacup ornaments hanging from the ceiling though. I got an iced latte, which was fine, and this delicious spinach and feta pastry. I feel like I should stop by more often for baked goods. I settled outside with what I’d gotten, mostly because of the floor, partly because it actually was nice out, and partly because I’m not currently comfortable with indoor dining, even in places with almost no one in them.

I only had like 25 minutes to kill at that point, but it was nice. I had a notebook with me and I did a teeny bit of planning on the Southern Gothic AU (still behind on this!!). Mostly I listened to the conversation next to me. I couldn’t entirely help it; the girl’s voice was carrying. She was talking to her guy friend about some recent issues they’d been having in their friendship. I was honestly...kind of impressed with them? I could mostly hear her--he was talking too but his voice didn’t carry as much--but it just overall sounded like a really open, emotionally honest, generally calm talk. Like certainly there were strong emotions in play (not exactly going to judge whether they were “warranted” given the apparent facts of the dispute, since I just ranted about a disagreement over something so dumb I don’t even want to name it in public) but they were just... expressing feelings that were difficult, and expressing displeasure with others’ actions, without yelling or being passive aggressive, etc. I mean even that they’d picked this time and place to meet specifically to discuss it I thought was commendable. And they were definitely friends, not bf/gf, because the disagreement involved his girlfriend (once referred to as his “partner”...sorry lol I judged that a LITTLE since they looked like they were maybe 21 years old--partner in WHAT??). The girl mentioned her therapist, which put a lot of her tone and vocabulary into perspective. Not necessarily in a bad way, I mean, it seemed to be working? But as someone who has never been to therapy, but is self-taught, so to speak, in gauging and describing my own feelings, I could... discern a sort of purposeful vocabulary that almost sounded scripted. I wrote down some specific quotes but I don’t want to put them in a public place. I’ll draw my respecting-strangers’-privacy line in the sand there. But a lot of, like “when you do x, it makes me feel y” kind of controlled explanations.

Anyway, I got very invested in that. Partly for future writing purposes, partly out of curiosity and partly because... I don’t know that I could have that kind of conversation NOW and I’m fairly sure I could not have when I was in college. I mean.... I don’t know... I’ve blocked out a lot of the pretentious/serious/about-our-feelings talks I did have. And what sticks out now are all the times I didn’t do that--all of the many, many issues with TA38... Even the way B and I have literally NEVER acknowledged the handful of times we hooked up in 2009.

You’re never gonna sound COOL talking about your emotions, your wants and your needs; it’s always gonna sound, imo, like a Therapy Script. And I don’t even always think you gotta have those talks. After graduation, R and I literally had this exchange where we said ‘well we both made mistakes last year, and we could try to untangle it now, but it’s just gonna bring up a lot of bad feelings. It’s done now anyway. Blanket apologies given, blanket acceptance of apologies, let’s move on.” And we did and it was fine. But if we’d had better conversations while we were living together, that would have been a different situation.

All of which is of course complicated for me personally because I am extremely conflict-averse. EXTREMELY.

Anyway, I ran into BL at the bus stop and we talked a bit there and on the bus, which was fine but kinda exhausting tbqh especially because of the topic of conversation. I got home at 6:30 and must have crawled immediately into bed and gone to sleep, but I barely remember it at all. Woke up at 10:30 and had no idea what time it was or what day it was or what I was doing.

Had dinner and then somehow went down a rabbit hole that started... somewhere?? and ended with me looking up my childhood home on Google Earth, which you KNOW is the sign of a mentally stable person who is doing just fine okay.

Now it’s the absolutely disgusting hour of 2:30 in the morning... Idk I wanted to go out tomorrow and take advantage of the nice weather but we’ll see how that goes. The thing is I feel like I need a full day to sleep but I only have two (2) days and in that time I gotta do laundry, cook for the week, preferably write one (1) whole chapter of this fic, and possibly also go on the aforementioned excursion. Which is a lot for me. It doesn’t really... fit.

Everything’s just so much all the time and so on.

#the year 2021 #2021: rl #real dear diary moment here

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perryfrye · 3 years

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REINTRODUCING PERRY FRYE

BASIC STUFF

full name: Perry Lee Frye

nickname: Scary Perry (a mean nickname from school that still haunts her. call her this if you want to see her cry), Small Frye

age: 29

date of birth: june 12, 1991

place of birth: seattle, washington

length of time in crescent harbor: from ages 2-18, returned briefly almost three years ago and then once more a year and a half ago

zodiac: gemini

height: 5′5″

weight: 120 pounds

occupation: freelance videographer, any odd job she can get her hands on

gender: cisfemale

sexual orientation: bisexual

relationship status: single

aesthetic: charcoal stained fingers, leaving black smudgy fingerprints everywhere, chewed down nails, chipped nail polish, overalls, demin jackets, ink stained hands, coffee stained clothes

BIO STUFF (tw: car accident, death, anxiety/depression, brief mention of drugs and alcohol)

THE BOLDED BULLET POINTS ARE THE UPDATED THINGS

Perry came to live with her grandfather in Crescent Harbor when she was only two after losing her parents in a car accident.

Her grandfather was the lighthouse keeper for many years, widowed and very much a recluse. It was all cannon fodder for the urban legend that the lighthouse was haunted.

Perry, still to do this day, was convinced she saw ghosts. At the time, she didn’t realize they were ghosts-- simply friends who came and went as they pleased.

Starting school was where it all began to fall apart. Kids were mean and she was not prepared. Apparently seeing and speaking to people only you could see, did not many a friend make. They coined the name Scary Perry and she decided she did not like school.

It didn’t get any easier. As she got older, she continued to talk to her friends– imaginary friends other people called them– and teachers grew concerned. So they stepped in and all but strong-armed Perry’s grandfather into seeking out help for Perry. So she found herself cycling through therapists and different medications all while being told that what she was seeing were hallucinations, a coping mechanism for the grief of losing her parents. Blah, blah, blah.

That was all well and good except for the fact that when she’d describe the lady in the blue dress she saw often in the night, sitting at the foot of her bed, she was describing, in detail, her grandmother, whom she had never met.

Eventually, though, the medication worked and she stopped seeing her “imaginary friends”

Won some sort of essay contest that granted her a scholarship to the private school for the duration of her middle school career. The kids didn’t know Scary Perry there, and it was a chance to start over. She shadowed @theobowman and the two became friends.

Eventually, she began dating @ariadneacostas though, for a reason Perry didn’t understand, Ariadne wanted it to be kept secret. When someone nearly found out, Ariadne flipped the script to say that Perry was obsessed with her and was telling everyone they were dating, which lead to an entirely new sort of isolation.

Perry could not find it in herself to be disappointed to return to public school. Perhaps because she’d forgotten just how mean kids were in general. She’d assumed they’d have forgotten. Or at the very least, matured enough not to care.

It didn’t matter, though, because kids are still mean and they have very good memories. She never quite shook the Scary Perry thing. She was very isolated growing up, so she turned to her art and making films to pass the time in Crescent Harbor until she applied to literally every university she could think of just to get away.

She wound up in Seattle studying filmmaking on scholarship and, finally free of the whole haunted lighthouse, crappy nickname, girl-who-talks-to-ghosts thing, she really came alive. She flourished in Seattle– falling in love, out of love, experimenting with people are drinks and drugs. She started to really find herself.

Then her grandfather got sick and she had no choice but to come back and take care of him. There was a brief time where it seemed as though he was getting better so Perry went back to Seattle again. A year and a half later, and it became obvious this was a sickness he’d never recover from, so when she came back to care for him this time, she stayed. He was the only family she had left, so even though she hated being back in town, she did it for him. He passed a little over a year after her return and she thought she’d finally be free of Crescent Harbor forever. But something– maybe facing her past, maybe taking back when she feels Crescent has taken from her– has kept her here.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

school friends -- these would be few and far between tbh, because Perry latched onto Theo in middle school and then had been burned so bad by the people she loved come high school that she remained largely detached. But a friend or two?? That maybe she ghosted when she got into college? who knows? not me.

school bullies -- between Scary Perry and being seen as the creepy obsessed girl, there is a lot of ammunition here for all types of school meanies. Maybe they are still terrible, maybe now they feel terrible. Maybe they don’t even remember and now this is awkward because Perry sure does.

coworkers -- Perry works all sorts of odd jobs to keep the money flowing. Her passion is videography and drawing, but she’s done some freelance writing, some fill-in barkeeping, some waitressing. Anything, really, that doesn’t require a special degree.

an awkward hook up-- Perry’s not really the hook up type? But she’s been known to make rash decisions under duress, so maybe the first time she returned to Crescent Harbor, she made a bold decision that maybe she’s trying to hide from rather than face. She doesn’t like to emotionally invest in people anymore-- she’s been burned too many times-- so now it’s just ducking around grocery store aisles to avoid the awkward run-in. And they definitely have no idea whatsoever. She’s for sure very stealthy. *bags of chips fall noisily to the ground behind me*

AND SO MANY MORE THAT I JUST CAN’T THINK OF RIGHT NOW. JUST COME LOVE HER, PLEASE. GIVE HER THINGS TO DO BEFORE I YEET HER INTO OBLIVION FOR BEING A BORING BITCH.

#crescent:intro

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bettsfic · 5 years

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socknography: the importance of preserving fan creator biographical data

i wrote earlier on utilizing collections and bookmarks to boost the archival power of ao3, and in that post mentioned how i wish authors would fill out their bios so we can preserve fanauthor information as well as we preserve the fics themselves. so, here is my rant about WHY WE ARE SO IMPORTANT.

for my masters thesis i wrote about the layered pseudonymity of fanfiction authors, and after doing a ton of research, i find myself still thinking of the pseudonymous/anonymous divide as it pertains to fic. we have authors we consider “famous” and ones whose followings eclipse that of traditionally published authors, but unlike traditionally published authors, we don’t put a handy bio at the end of our fics. in fact, if you want to find out about the author, you have to hope they’ve linked somewhere to their tumblr or twitter or dreamwidth, or they have consistent pseuds across platforms. and from there, you have to hope they have an ‘about me.’ but most, myself included, don’t.

unlike traditional publication -- where amazon and goodreads and even the back of the book contains biographical info -- and even unlike the rest of fandom archival etiquette -- which, despite having virtually no committed rules still maintains its organizational structure -- there is no standard etiquette on fanauthor biographical data.

i speculate the reasons fanauthors are hesitant to write their own biographies is very complicated:

there is no “ask” for it or existing standard. when i publish stories under my real name, i’m required to provide my bio, which contains my accomplishments, where i got my degree, where else i’m published, and my website. all literary author bios follow this formula, so they’re pretty easy to write. other than this post, i have never seen a request for fanauthor bios. so without an editor demanding it, and without a standard formula or platform to draw from, a total lack of information becomes the norm, and almost any info other than the standard “name. age. pronouns. ao3 name. list of fandoms and/or pithy one-liner” of tumblr or occasional ask game is seen as a deviation from the norm. even ask games get a bad rep sometimes, and they’re transitory, a post you see as you’re scrolling through to somewhere else, not static, like a dedicated profile page.

pseudonymity veers too close to anonymity. an anonymous author cannot have a biography. a pseudonymous author can, but biographies may be seen as defeating the purpose of writing under a pseudonym, or multiple pseuds. a sock account is a sock for a reason -- you don’t want it associated with your main. moreover, i believe fandom creates an environment in which to acknowledge your accomplishments and promote your own content is seen as narcissistic. fanfiction can sometimes be seen as a genre of selflessness, donating time and energy into a community centered around a shared canon, not personal gain. to acknowledge the self publicly is to invite attention, and attention is contradictory to anonymity.

shame and humility. the more information you have on the internet, the easier you are to find. very few fanauthors use their real names, or feel comfortable connecting their fan identity to their real one. i hear pretty constantly how often fanauthors hide their fannishness from their coworkers and loved ones, how only the people closest to them know they write/read fanfic. moreover, you might think “my most popular fic only has 10 kudos and 1 comment, nobody wants to know about me” (which is so not true, but i’ll get to that in a minute).

fandom is constantly changing. with a central archive for fanfiction in place, it’s easier now to be in multiple fandoms at once than it ever has been. if you want to read all sugar daddy fics, there’s a tag for that, and if you’re not picky about canon, you have an entire buffet of fandoms to choose from. communities are growing and shifting and changing shape. i move fandoms, and i keep my friends and readers from previous fandoms. i get dragged to new fandoms frequently. my interests and inspirations change, but i don’t erase my history or identity every time i move, i only add to it. i am always betts whether i’m in star wars or the 100 or game of thrones. but if you only read my fic, you don’t know the stories behind it. many people don’t know i entered fandom in the brony convention community in 2012, or that i was sadrobots before i was betty days before i was betts, or how fandom changed my life and led me through a path of personal trauma recovery, or that i co-founded wayward daughters, or ran the fanauthor workshop, or all these other things about fanfic that is not fanfic itself.

if you are a fan creator, your fannish personal narrative matters. telling your story helps preserve the metatextual history of our genre.

i think constantly about what our genre will look like in 30 or 50 years, if it will be like other genres that began as subversions of the mainstream: comic books, beat literature, science fiction. genres that, at the time involved groups of friends creating stories for each other, bouncing ideas off of one another, experimenting with or distorting other genres, and which became, over time, well-regarded forms with rich histories.

maybe one day, like the MCU, we’ll have a dedicated production company that churns out adaptations of longform coffee shop aus written between 2009 and 2015. maybe “BNFs” will be read in high school literature curriculums. maybe our work will end up on the real or virtual shelves of our great grandchildren. and if that happens, if fanfic goes entirely mainstream, how will fanfic authorship be perceived? how will fanpeople in 2080, if humanity is still around by then, interact with the lexicon we’ve created and preserved? what would you do if you found out Jane Austen wrote under five different sock accounts across three platforms over the span of twenty years? how would you, a fan of Pride & Prejudice, even begin to find all of her work?

we have so many social constraints pushing against us. there’s purity culture, which encourages further division of identity -- fanauthors may write fluff on their main and have various sock accounts for underage/noncon fics. if you’re a scarecrow, you’re much harder for a mob to attack. there’s misogyny, which dictates women/queer ppl shouldn’t be writing about or indulging in or exploring their sexuality at all. there’s intellectual property and a history of DMCAs, which, although kept at bay by the OTW, may still have influence on the “illegal” mentality of our work. with social armies against us, it’s easier to exist in the shadows, on the fringe. we change URLs based on our moving interests, and split our identities a million different ways, and keep sarcastic “me” tags full of self-deprecating text posts. we are difficult beasts to catch, because we have not been allowed to exist.

i spent a lot of time today googling the word for “pseudonymous biography” and came up empty-handed (if someone knows of an existing word, pls let me know. “pseudography” is apparently a fancy word for a typo; “pseudobiography” is a fake biography), so for lack of anything better, i’ve come up with the term “socknography” because 1) it’s funny and doesn’t sound intimidating, and 2) it encapsulates the sensitive and complicated way fanauthor identifying conventions work. and also i think “fanauthor biography,” “bibliography,” and “profile” just doesn’t cut it for the actual work of these pieces. they don’t necessarily include IRL biographical data, they include more historical/community context than a bibliography, and the words “profile” and “about me” don’t really inspire interaction, or acknowledge the archival importance of this work.

astolat’s fanlore page is my go-to example. astolat writes under multiple pseuds and has major influence in the history of fandom. she’s also a traditionally published author, but you notice, her ofic novels are not mentioned, nor any other real-life identifying information. fanlore has a really good policy on this in place, for those concerned about doxxing.

(moreover, i am not suggesting you centralize your socks. they’re socks for a reason. but most everyone has a main, and that main identity has a story.)

there are 2 existing spaces to preserve socknographies.

fanlore, a wiki owned by the OTW, you can make an account and create a user page (which is different than a “person” page) using a user profile template

ao3′s “profile” page, which is a big blank box in which anything goes

(i’m not including tumblr on this list because i don’t think it’s a stable platform.)

fanlore’s template is straight to the point and minimal, which doesn’t really invite narrative the same way a literary bio would. ao3′s big blank box leaves us with the question -- wtf do i say about myself? how do i say it? how much is too much? and because of that, most profiles are either blank or only include a policy on translations/podfic/fanart, and maybe links to tumblr and twitter. but let me tell you, if i have read your fic and taken the time to move over to your profile, you better believe i am a fan. and as a fan, i want to Know Things.

here are the things i want to know, or

a potential template:

introduction (name/alias, age, location, pronouns, occupation)

accomplishments (degrees, personal history)

fan history (fandoms you’ve been in, timeline as a fan, how you were introduced to fandom/fanfiction, what does fandom mean to you -- this is where your fan narrative goes)

fandom participation (popular fics/posts, involvement in fan events/communities, side blogs, interviews, etc. 3 & 4 might be one and the same for you)

spotlight (which of your fics are most important to you/would you like others to read and why? what are the stories behind your favorite fics you’ve written?)

find me elsewhere* (links to tumblr, twitter, insta, etc.)

policies on fanart, fanfic of fic, podfics, and translations

*you cannot link to ko-fi, paypal, patreon, or amazon on ao3/fanlore per the non-commercial terms of service

i’ll be working on filling this out for my own profile as an example, but you can also see how my @fanauthorworkshop participants filled out their fanauthor spotlights, and the information they provided. obviously, you should only share that which you feel comfortable sharing, and as your fandom life changes, your narrative will change too. it’s not much different than updating a CV or resume.

tl;dr the goal is to provide a self-narrative of your fan life/identity for posterity. who are you and why are you a fanperson? why do you create fan content? what are you proud of and what do you want to highlight to others? who are you in this space?

#socknography #fanfiction #ao3 #otw

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is0gild · 4 years

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 18

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 7,733

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Oh dear god, the rumors are actually true."

I blinked over at Frozone. "What rumors?" I asked as I bent forward over the countertop towards the little girl with short black hair tied up in adorable pigtails, handing her an ice cream cone that was almost as big as she was.

He facepalmed, dragging his hands down his face to give me a deadpan look between his fingers. "Are you seriously dating the pizza guy?"

My shoulders tensed momentarily before I gave a nervous chuckle, holding my hand out to my tiny customer so I could receive her tip since she was too short to reach the jar. "Why do you ask?" I avoided his gaze, instead electing to sift through the small treasure pile now in my palm. Besides the assorted change, there was a smooth pebble, a shiny paperclip, and a crumpled up business card I assumed belonged to the kid's dad who she was scurrying back over to now. He was a big hairy guy standing off to one side in a garish blue suit with purple polka dots. The name on the card read James P Sully and he hailed from a company called Doors-R-Us, which I believed was a hardware store located somewhere else in the mall.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Frozone wordlessly point across the way. As I dropped the munny into the jar and tossed the rest, I looked to the Pizza Planet and I had to quash the urge to facepalm myself. Lea was bouncing around behind the counter there, not so subtly alternating back and forth between blowing me kisses and holding his hands up over his head in the shape of a heart.

"Yup," I sighed, closing my eyes and pressing my fingertips between my eyebrows, "that idiot over there would be my boyfriend alright."

It'd been a few days now since the group date. There hadn't been any further outings, not of that magnitude at least, but Lea and I had been taking our lunches together if they lined up as well as making other small public appearances together wherever else we could to keep the act up. I was finally getting to the point where I was more used to all the hand holding and hugs so they no longer fazed me, not outwardly at least. The little flutters my heart would give were another matter, but at least those were easy enough to conceal and keep to myself. His kisses, on the other hand, continued to be a work in progress, often still causing my brain to experience a temporary hiccup in functionality. But I liked to think I was getting better about that too, just more slowly. I still hadn't made any progress in the initiating-PDA-myself department, but I just needed more time. I was working up to it, I swear! I'd get there. Maybe today even. Perhaps… Possibly… Hopefully? ...unlikely. Ugh.

Lea himself had been enthusiastically taking on the task of leaving no doubt in anyone's minds that we were now a couple. In fact, this was not the first time he'd been brazenly sending me air kisses and hearts across the food court. Just the first time Frozone had caught him doing it.

"But why?" Frozone shook his head, looking genuinely confused. "I thought you two weren't even getting along. I mean, after the incident on your first day of work and all that weirdness in the weeks after…"

"Actually, we were dating before all that. Even before I started working here," I said quickly. Not that that helped clear things up for my coworker. Like… at all. But hey, I had a story to maintain. As his brow only wrinkled further at me, I winced. "It's… complicated."

He held his hands up, "You know what? I've decided I don't even care. As long as you don't let it interfere with your work, you do you, girl."

"Oh it won't! I promise! You can count on me," I reassured him, plastering on a smile. From my peripheral, I could see Lea was still at it with no sign of slowing down. If anything, he only seemed to be getting more spirited about it. To Frozone, I said with every ounce of dignity I could summon, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very important and totally work-related text to make on my phone right now that in no way, shape, or form has anything to do with…" I gestured a hand gingerly towards the Pizza Planet, "that over there."

"...uh-huh," he said flatly, turning away to assist another customer.

Hastily fishing my phone out of my skirt pocket, I brought up my texts, tapping on a certain name before my thumbs were blurring across the screen.

Quit it, you're making a fool of yourself.

I narrowed my eyes up at him as I hit send and he froze mid gesticulation, looking down at one pocket of his pants. Then I watched as he dug his own phone out, read my message and smirked before his fingers were on the move. There was a buzz in my hands and I looked down at the screen.

1st of all, when hz that ever stopped me b4?

Well he had me there.

2nd of all, u thought all that was 4 u? Plz, all that luv was directed mr studmuffin ovr there

I squinted one eye at the words before looking back up at him. He was now waggling his eyebrows as he pointed to my left and I realized he meant Frozone. The man in question was looking between us as he rang up an order, his eyelids drooping. "Do I even want to know?"

I snorted, biting back a grin. "No, I really don't think you do," I told him, tapping away at my keyboard again.

Dork.

Lea was now typing something back one handed, using the other to wave off Xion as she tried to get his attention.

U know it. What time u off?

I checked the clock on my phone before replying.

10 more minutes.

Xion was beginning to look frustrated over there as she more urgently tugged on his sleeve. Lea just smothered her face with his free hand, lightly shoving her away while he remained focused on his phone.

Perfect me 2. Dont go NEwhere without me, we got plans ;)

My head tipped to one side.

We do?

Xion huffed, stomping away to grab a giant slab of pizza dough and balling it up in her hands as she gave Lea the evil eye. He continued to remain blissfully unaware.

Most defini9kf.u1kd4

Apparently his fingers had slipped followed by accidentally hitting send as that ball of dough smacked him square in the jaw, courtesy of Xion's pitching arm. And strong arm at that, for it was enough to knock him straight off his feet and send him disappearing below the counter. She razzed her tongue at him, dragging her left lower eyelid down with a finger. Then she paled and squeaked, bolting into the back room when a scowling Lea pulled himself back up, half his face dusted with flour now and one eye twitching as he stalked after her. I just laughed softly, turning my attention to a new customer that had just approached my register.

A few minutes later found me clocked out and standing in the food court, scrolling on my phone while I waited. I was still in my work attire, including of course a pair of glorious, blessed stockings (of the snowman-print variety) because never ever again would be the day I'd go without. My hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, but I'd tucked away the Ice Palace cap into my bag.

"Ah, there ya are!" I felt Lea's arm slip around my shoulders and his hand cup the side of my head, bending it towards him so he could press a kiss into my hair. He grinned down at me, "How is my lil lekker stroopwafel this fine day?"

I blinked up at him. He was still in his work clothes too, sans apron and visor. Pocketing my phone, I echoed, "...lekker stroopwafel?"

"It's Dutch. It means you're my lil delicious waffle," he cooed and planted a swift peck to my cheek, which I squeezed one eye shut against.

Face warming, I gave him a blank look. "Do I even have to say it?"

He pouted, "Aw man, really? Overruled? Crap, I'd thought you'd like that one too. Guess it's back to the ol' drawing board." He started walking, the arm still hugging my shoulders pulling me along with him.

Shaking my head at him with a tiny smile, I asked, "So what are these plans we have?"

Holding an index finger up to his lips, Lea winked at me. "It's a surprise."

I quirked an eyebrow and frowned thoughtfully. "...is it the clocktower again?"

"Pft, like I'd do the same thing twice. What a lame-ass surprise that'd be. What kinda uninspired oaf do you take me for? Gotta keep things new! Fresh!" he chuckled as he moved us along, keeping our pace brisk. "And bonus, it's good for the masses to see the two of us out and about like this. Keeps us in the public eye and people talking about what a freaking adorable couple we make. Stop here."

"Wha-?" I was cut off as he suddenly swept me around, pointing me at the Bippity Boppity Boo formalwear shop. However, I got the feeling that he wasn't so much facing me towards it specifically as he was more so facing me away from something else.

Standing in front of me now, he brushed a hand down over my sight. "Close your eyes please. No peeking now."

As soon as he removed his palm, my eyes snapped open again, "But what are you-"

"I said no peeking," he laughed, his hand gently sliding my eyes shut again. "You'll see soon enough, 'kay?"

"Fine," I puffed out a breath, crossing my arms and doing as I was told this time.

A shadow flickered over my eyelids - I think he was waving his hand in front of my face. Then I heard his footsteps walking past me, followed by him asking, "You got it?"

"Right here!" a friendly female voice I didn't recognize responded.

"Perfect! Thanks, you're an angel, this world isn't worthy of your pure divinity," he said back, to which she just gave a warm chuckle. Then I heard the tip-tap of Lea's shoes again, could feel him hovering just behind me now. When he spoke, his voice was right next to my ear, "Alright, you can open 'em now."

I did, discovering he'd looped his arm around to hold something up in front of my nose. A flower. Two of them actually, blooming from one stem, both white and delicate and with fuzzy sprigs of yellow sprouting out the centers.

"...winter honeysuckle?" I said quietly, carefully taking it from him.

His head still beside mine, I felt him nod, "Mm-hm! It's your favorite, right?"

I turned to look at him as he straightened up now. "How did you know?"

"Asked Raindrop," he grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets with a shrug and not yet taking a step back, remaining real close.

"Thank you," I murmured, bringing it up to my nose with a soft inhale. "I'm surprised it's blooming this time of year."

"That's Aerith for you. The Greenthumb Goddess," he tossed his head back towards the flower kiosk behind him and in particular at the woman running it. I recognized her from last time I'd walked past here, her big pink bow hard to forget. She just smiled at me, green eyes dancing as she waggled her fingers in a tiny wave.

I returned the smile and wave before setting my gaze on Lea once more. "Is this the surprise?"

"Are you kidding? Please, this is just the opening act. C'mon," he slipped his hand into mine and gently tugged me into a walk once more.

"But what's it for? Is there some sort of special occasion?" I frowned down at the plant, twirling it between my fingertips as I racked my brain, trying to come up with the answer myself but drawing a blank.

"Whaddya mean, what's it for?" he snorted as we passed an Olympus Gym with floor-to-ceiling windows, through which could be spotted a squat, bald, grumpy looking fellow that appeared to be training a chiseled, golden-haired Adonis who could be a strong contender for the Mr Universe title. Pulling me onto an escalator, Lea continued, "I just wanted to give ya something you'd like."

We slowly rose up to the second level, a Blitzball Sports shop and a Glass Slipper shoe store gliding by before disappearing beneath us on the floor below. A crease formed between my eyebrows. "But why?"

He blinked at me, then chuckled and ruffled his fingers through his hair. "Just cuz! What, does a boyfriend hafta have a reason to give his girlfriend lil gifts every now and again? Jeez, ya act like you never-" he froze, eyes widening. The back of his foot hit the top of the escalator, catching him off guard and he stumbled, but managed to remain upright before looking back at me horrified. "Wait. Please, please don't tell me your royal dumbass of an ex never gave you any flowers."

I stepped off the moving stairs after him, looking away with a tiny huff. "Yes, of course he would. Big bouquets, in fact, full of a whole variety of blooms. They were actually quite lovely… but…" I raised the flowers up to my nose once more, hiding my small grimace behind them. "...well, there was just always a reason… an event or something. Just because etiquette would demand it. And they were never winter honeysuckles. I don't think he even knew they were my favorite. He never… asked…"

Lea pinched the bridge of his nose with a grumbling sigh. "This guy sounds more n' more like a total tool with each new thing I hear about him. Ugh, forget him," he brightened, linking our hands together once more, leading us onward.

We passed a magic shop bearing a glittery sign that read Sorcerer's Apprentice, inside which were two old dudes, each with beards more ridiculously long and grey than the last, plus a younger blonde gentleman with a goatee and several piercings, his hands shuffling what was most likely a trick deck of playing cards. Neighboring that establishment was the Blue Sitar, a musical instrument store with some guy snoozing behind the counter, his hair at war with itself, not quite sure whether it was a mohawk or a mullet.

My attention was drawn back to Lea as he chimed in once more, "Besides, we have way more important concerns to be thinking about." He turned his head to the right and his eyes lit up. "Like puppies!"

"Pup-?" the word was swallowed in a gasp as he dragged me into a run towards a store dubbed 101 Spots. A pet store, to be exact, as I quickly learned when we passed through its doors and my ears were greeted with a chaotic chorus of woofs, meows, and chirps. Both eyebrows shot up my forehead as I glanced around, "...is this the surprise?"

"Nah, this is just a detour," he chuckled, releasing my hand to squat down and reach forward, fingers beckoning towards a dalmation near the cashier counter. The dog's ears perked up curiously for a second, then it gave an excited bark and barreled into his arms, nearly toppling Lea to the ground. It seemed the two were already old pals, if the way the canine's tail thumped against the carpet was any indication.

I tilted my head. "For puppies?"

"Well yeah! Always detour for puppies! Isn't that right, Mr Slobber-Drool-Face? Yes it is!" he squished the dalmation's face between his hands, using his baby-talk voice as it responded by enthusiastically giving him doggie-kisses.

Oh dear. Lea liked dogs.

"Is that the spot right there, buddy?" he asked as his four-legged friend flopped onto its back expectantly and Lea obliged, both hands giving vigorous belly scritches. "Oh yeah, that's definitely the spot! Woojy-woojy-woo!"

Like… really, really liked dogs.

My crush was soaring to dangerous new heights.

Clearing my throat, I tucked my flower into my bag, leaving the petals poking out the top so they didn't get smashed. Then I kneeled down beside him so I could reach down and scratch behind the dog's ear. It lapped at my palm and I grinned. "You looking to take this one home?"

"That's Pongo," a new voice spoke up. I looked up to see the woman with blonde hair done up into a bun smiling at me from behind the counter. Anita, or so her nametag boasted. "And he's not for sale. He and Perdita," she looked fondly down at a second dalmatian sleeping nearby, "belong to my husband and me. Perdita will be having puppies soon though, so you may want to check back in a few weeks."

"I like to stop in and give Pongo and all the other puppers here some wub whenever I can," Lea cooed, playfully wrastling the dog into a hug.

My eyes crinkled as I watched him play with the pooch for another minute, then I stood up once more, deciding to take a look around. I meandered slowly, reaching into the low pens as I passed by to give quick pats to dogs, cats, and bunnies, running my fingers lightly along the bars of bird cages as their occupants quizzically cocked their feathered heads at me before I moved on.

Finally I came to a stop in front of the puppy pen. And I didn't mean that in the same way Lea did, who seemed to call everything that barked and ran on all fours a puppy, regardless of the animal's true age. These were actual puppies. There were a bunch of children on the other side of the pen that had gathered most of the puppies into a joyful frenzy over there. However, there was one that was staying back, ears at attention as it sat on its haunches and stoically watched the others frolic. Put quite simply, it was a pure ball of fluff, white and poofy. It had to be more fur than dog.

"Hey there little guy," I murmured, getting its attention as I bent down over the enclosure. It backed up a step, lowering into a crouch and giving the hand I offered it a tiny growl, which was more cute than threatening. "It's alright," I soothed patiently, still holding out my hand. The snarling subsided and after a hushed pause, it tentatively crept forward to snuffle at my hand before giving it a timid lick. "Ah, I see," I laughed, sticking both hands in now to pick the puppy up and hold it in front of my face, "not such a tough guy after all, huh? No, you're just a big ol' softie deep down."

Its stubby tail began to wag and it replied with a small yip.

"You don't say?" I smiled back, cradling it in my arms now and taking one of its paws in my hand. "Look at those feet. You're going to be a big fellah, aren't you? Do you have a name?" Another yip. I scanned the puppy corral, but didn't see any signs listing names. Ruffling the cushy fur of its tummy, I told it, "Well you look like a Marshmallow to me."

"Quick," Lea suddenly appeared at my shoulder, whispering into my ear, "you distract everyone with your feminine wiles and I'll stuff the pup down my shirt to smuggle him out of here."

I snerked, not taking my eyes off the poof as I tapped a finger to its wet nose. "Ah, so this is the one you're going to get. Good choice."

"Me? Nah," he shook his head as his hand went to pet it and it repaid him by treating his fingers like a chew toy. He didn't seem to mind. "Saïx would murder me execution style if I ever brought a dog home."

I turned to look up at him now, arching an eyebrow. "But I thought you said Saïx loved dogs."

"Nope. Other way around, they love him. He just suffers their presence. Does lead to some pretty funny interactions though whenever he crosses paths with one. But no, I meant you. How 'bout it, wanna give this lil tyke a home?"

"Oh no," I sighed sadly, shifting the puppy in my arms and it took the opportunity to flick my nose with its pink tongue as I did so. "Unfortunately, pets aren't allowed in my apartment complex. But maybe when I get my own place."

His head rocked back slightly, "Huh? Already have plans to move out? But you just got there."

"Situation's temporary. My room's a future baby nursery, so I need to find a place before junior arrives in a few months." I nuzzled the critter's snoot. "Hopefully I'll find somewhere nice that allows dogs and I can get a little cutie like this guy to just snuggle with in bed all day."

"Mmm," he hummed. I could feel his hand trailing down the length of my ponytail, running it through his fingers and letting it slowly slip free strand by strand as he mumbled, "Sounds like that would be nice to come home to." Then he tensed beside me, snatching his hand back to instead scratch a spot behind his ear, "Er… that is… I mean you make… coming home to a dog sound nice. Heh."

I made a noncommittal noise in my throat, stroking a curled finger under the puppy's chin.

"...I'm going to have to take the lil mutt away from you, aren't I?" I heard Lea ask.

"Chances are good, yes."

"Alright, fuzzball, time to go back to your pen before the pretty lady commits grand theft doggo," he scooped the pooch from my arms. It growled at him and he just snorted as he plopped it down into the enclosure, "Oh yeah, so scary. Got me shaking in my stylish-yet-sensible Chuck Taylors."

Would-Be-Marshmallow ran up to the plastic fence, whimpering at me and giving me the full force of its sad puppy-dog stare. I tucked in my bottom lip, my hands already reaching for it again, "Maybe I should just-"

"Nope, let's go," he snagged my hand and started leading me towards the exit. "Don't make eye contact, that's how they get ya. One look and bam! You're powerless to resist their evil, doggie mind games."

I let him guide me back out of the store, offering little resistance beyond a tiny pout. It wasn't until he led us onto another escalator that I snapped out of my sulking. I furrowed my brow, looking down, "Wait, we're descending."

One step below me, he turned to face me with a smirk. This was one of the rare occasions he was at my eye level without having to stoop. "Yes, that more or less tends to happen on down escalators."

"But why?" I frowned.

His head tipped slightly to the left. "...I'm guessing you're looking for an answer more sophisticated than, 'to get to the first floor.'"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, I mean why-" I stopped, realization dawning on me and my eyelids drooped. "...did we seriously only go to the second floor so you could pet the dogs?"

"Puppies," he corrected then shrugged, "and yes. It was on the way."

"No, no… if it requires taking an up escalator to get there, then a down escalator to get back on track, that is by definition out of the way."

He lifted his chin with a sniff, "Puppies are never out of the way."

I shook my head at him, "You have a problem."

"Says the puppy snatcher."

"I did not-"

"Oh-ho, but you wanted to. Could see it in your eyes, El," he leaned forward, pointing to his own gaze. "Lucky I was there to save you from going down a dark path from which there's no turning back."

I gave a huff through my nose and deadpanned, "My hero."

"That's right, babycakes. And don't heroes always get a kiss from their lady fairs in honor of their heroic deeds?" His hands shifted to cover mine on the rubber handrails and he leaned in further still, his nose brushing mine, his eyes hooded.

Cue the conga drum beat that was the hammering of my heart.

Gosh, he really did just so love using this pretend boyfriend act to mess with my head, didn't he?

Well, nope. Nu uh. Not today, you stupid blush! Turn around and march yourself back to wherever you came from because this face ain't buying what you're selling.

I rocked back on my heels a bit, regaining a little space between us as I turned my head away. "Well, if you head back to 101 Spots, I'm sure Perdita would love to slobber you with those kisses."

Snerking, he stepped off the escalator as we reached the bottom, muttering, "Was worth a shot." As I followed him onto the ground floor, he grabbed hold of my shoulders and guided me a few steps further before bringing us to a stop. "Here we are!" he proclaimed, flourishing his hands out before us, "Ta-da!"

My nose scrunched up slightly. "...The Toy Box?" I read the colorful sign hanging over the archway before me that opened up into (you guessed it) a children's toy store. It seemed business was currently slow, for inside all I could see was one employee by himself, wearing a kiddie cowboy hat too small for his head and galloping around on a stick horse to amuse himself.

"Huh?" Lea followed my gaze then tsked under his breath. "No, not that. That." He pivoted me slightly so I was instead looking at the next business over. Above its entrance flashed big, neon letters spelling out Hot Wheels. They were punctuated by a blinking image of a pair of old fashioned four-wheeled skates leaving a trail of cartoon fire in their wake.

"A roller rink?" I asked slowly and uncertainly.

"Yup! C'mon!" And with that, he weaved our fingers together once more and pulled me through the doors.

The place was huge inside, with eighties synth-pop blasting out from the overhead speakers. The ambient lighting was dim, but you'd hardly notice what with all the glowing neon rainbow tubes twisting and stretching along the walls, the iridescent laser light show dancing to and fro, and the spotlights darting about all over the large arena that was taking up a majority of the space. It was jam-packed with roller skaters laughing and having a good time.

Lea led me over to a long counter immediately to the right of where we'd entered. The cashier across from us was a chick with short, choppy black hair that had a few streaks of violet in it. She said nothing, just crossed her arms and stared at us, chewing her bubblegum and looking unimpressed.

"Hey Go Go!" Lea chirped at her, holding up a pair of fingers. "Two sets of skates please!"

Bored stare not letting up, she merely blew a bubble and remained silent. For a second, I almost thought she hadn't heard him over the blare of the music. But then the gum burst and she gave a flat, "This her?" Her eyes gave me a quick once over before narrowing on Lea. "She's too good for you, Red."

"Don't I know it!" he laughed before shifting over to mime cupping his hands over my ears, "But don't let her hear you say that, otherwise she might finally come to her senses and dump my sorry ass!"

Her eyelids drooped and she blew another bubble. Tough crowd, it seemed. With another pop, she turned her back to us, grabbing a few things off the shelf behind her before dropping them down on the countertop in front of us. "You know where the lockers are," was all she said as I looked down at the padlock and two pairs of roller skates - the smaller set powder blue while the others a blinding red.

"Sure do! Thanks, Go Go," Lea beamed, gathering everything up and tucking it under one arm.

I cocked my head at her, "But I didn't even tell you my shoe size, how-"

Once again, I was being dragged away by Lea's hand on mine. I tripped but caught myself, glancing over at him as we walked towards some benches. He grinned, "Don't worry, they'll fit. Like me, she's got a gift," he tapped an index finger to his temple. "Except instead of ice cream, it's skate size."

Okay… strange talent.

But couldn't argue with results. They fit like a glove. As I tightened and tied my rentals, I glanced over at Lea out of the corner of my eye while he did the same with his. Roller-skating, huh? Not what I'd expected. Then again, I'd had no idea what to expect. But this could be fun. Plus, maybe I could look at this as another opportunity to initiate PDA. Couples roller-skating was an optimal time to do that, right? Right! I just needed to look for my opening and, I don't know… just grab his hand, something like that.

Alright. Mission Make A Move was in motion.

Maybe.

We'll see.

It wasn't long before both Lea and I had finished lacing up and stowed our shoes away into a locker along with the rest of our belongings we wouldn't need. I followed him to one of the few openings in the barriers surrounding the rink. "Ever roller-skated before?" he asked, stepping out into the oval arena just as the song You Spin Me Round started playing over the sound system.

"No," I shook my head, padding across the carpet and stopping at the edge of the ring. I watched as his wheels glided him into a half-spin with ease, coming to a stop when he faced me. Clearly, this wasn't his first rodeo. I shrugged, "But I used to ice skate, so shouldn't be a problem."

"Shouldn't be," he hummed a chuckle, eyes crinkling. Then he rolled back a few steps, making room for me and gesturing for me to proceed, "Have at it then."

I took a step onto the glossy surface, stumbled and nearly faceplanted.

I say nearly because Lea was there in the blink of an eye to catch my arms and steady me, giving a loud snort through his nose. "Dunno how much your ice skating background is gonna help ya here. Blades and wheels? Not the same thing. Ice and hardwood? Not-"

"-the same thing. Got it," I grumbled, my legs wobbling as I struggled to keep my balance, my fingers squeezing his forearms hard.

He smiled down at me before cautiously releasing one of my arms so he could about-face, shifting to my side. There, he took my other hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow before his feet pushed off, coasting at the speed of molasses. Me, being on teeny-tiny tires, had little choice but to be towed along with him as he said, "Ice and roller-skating are two sides of the same coin, but still totally different animals. Your muscle memory is probably gonna work against ya for a bit. Your body will expect things to work one way and react accordingly only to be surprised when the physics of it all is totally outta whack."

"Thanks for the lecture, professor. I think I'll figure it out." I tested moving one foot forward, slipped and desperately tightened my grip on him to stay upright. "...eventually," I amended, both my arms hugging his bicep close now.

Did this count as making a move?

I don't think it did. It was more like advancing a move already in progress and not even one that I'd started myself in the first place.

Maybe I should concentrate less on making a move and more on just not falling flat on my rear.

Consider the mission scrapped.

"So… you were an ice skater?" he asked conversationally.

I nodded, trying out another step while still using him for support. This one went marginally better. "I took lessons for a few years as a kid. My parents' idea. Supposedly, it improves posture, balance, flexibility and coordination, all in the pursuit of excellence," I recited dryly. "But even though it was just another tool they used to mold me into being their perfect little girl, I still found it fun despite all that. I actually enjoyed it quite a lot. I was sad when they ended my lessons once they'd decided I'd outgrown it."

"Ah," he continued creeping us along at a lazy pace while I grew more bold and determined in my attempts to figure out how to make the cursed roller-skates bend to my will and obey me. "That explains why all your movements are so graceful."

"Graceful?" my head snapped up to look at him before I gave a derisive snort. "No, not at all, I'm a total klutz."

"Sometimes," he agreed, pulling to a stop and curving around to stand in front of me now as he hunched forward to look me in the eye, one corner of his lips twitching up. "But that's cute too."

Bam.

Shot through the heart.

Which, coincidentally, were the lyrics that'd just sung out over the speakers as the music switched to You Give Love A Bad Name.

As my brain scrambled to come up with a response, any response to that, a huge smirk suddenly flashed across his face and he declared, "And spin!"

"Wha-?"

Taking both my hands in his, he leaned back and started swinging us both around into a twirl together. Or perhaps death spiral would be the more appropriate term for it. I squeaked as we gained speed, our surroundings blurring more and more together, my feet scrambling to keep the wheels from slipping out from underneath me.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," Lea called, still grinning like a madman.

And oddly enough, I took comfort in those simple words. I shyly smiled back and my muscles began to relax. Once I stopped fighting the spin, it went a lot more smoothly. I laughed as my ponytail whipped about from the centripetal force.

He abruptly slowed us to a stop and I staggered at the sudden change, but he caught me around the waist with one arm, pulling me up against him. "I got you," he reassured, panting a bit from energy expended on the twirl. I just breathed a small chuckle and his gaze softened as it flicked from my eyes over to my ponytail, which had swung itself forward over my shoulder when we'd stopped spinning. He brought his free hand up to twist a platinum tendril around one finger. "...why don't you ever wear your hair down?"

"My…?" I blinked at the random question that'd seemingly popped up out of the blue. My gaze averted and shifted about. "Well, I… I guess I never really thought about it. Just to keep it out of my face, I suppose."

Lea watched his fingers as they continued to play with the strands. "Your hair is just really pretty. It looks… I mean, I can... imagine how nice it must look down."

That blush came a-knocking again. And this time my face, being the utter fool that it was, let it in.

I suddenly shot out one arm to the side, pointing a finger and blurting out, "Go over there."

He spluttered and snerked. "Seriously? Just cuz I'm a fan of your hair, you're banishing me?"

"Th-that's not- no, I just-" I stammered, looking down with a frown. "I want to try and see if I can skate on my own for a bit."

"Oh." He tipped his head. "You sure you're ready for that?"

"Won't know until I try. Now," I flicked my hand dismissively at him, "shoo."

Releasing me, he started skating backwards. "Fine. I'll be right here though if ya need me," he said, stopping just a few feet in front of me.

Now shakily standing under my own power, I moved one foot forward to attempt a glide. I teetered and I saw him tense, ready to spring into action and rescue me. However I steadied myself, shooting him a tiny warning glare. He backed off, raising his hands in surrender. I sighed then told him, "Turn around."

His head reeled back, "What?!"

"Turn around," I insisted, rolling slowly forward now, feet lurching and arms darting stiffly about to maintain my balance. He began drifting backwards, maintaining the same space between us. "I can't do this with you looking at me. I feel self conscious."

He beamed. "But I like looking at you! It gives me the warm fuzzies inside," he announced loudly into the sudden hush as the last song ended so all the other skaters around us could no doubt hear.

How I didn't pancake onto the hardwood right then and there will forever remain a mystery to me.

This guy, I swear. The lengths he was willing to go to to sell the whole boyfriend act would never cease to amaze me. Feeling that familiar warmth creep back up into my cheeks as Take On Me started to play, I snapped, "Just turn around!"

"Alright already, jeez," he sniggered, rotating away from me to face forward now while still maintaining the same snail speed.

"No peeking," I told him sternly.

Lea gave an exasperated laugh, "I'm not! I'm not peeking!"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously on his back as I wobbled my way into another step. Then I had a thought. Perhaps now would be the opportune moment to give the whole PDA thing another shot. I was already starting to get the hang of roller-skating. If I could catch up to him, I could go for the hand or… or hug the arm or something! Just for the sake of maintaining appearances, of course. You know, just... keeping up my half of this whole pretend girlfriend-boyfriend deal. My motives were strictly professional and had nothing to do with a certain little, teensy-weensy crush that would never, ever even see the light of day.

Yeah, okay, let's do this.

Mission Make A Move was back on.

Alright, step one: reaching him.

...that might take some doing.

In the meantime, we'll instead work on step zero: small talk.

"Do you come here a lot?" I asked, unsteadily picking up speed and trying to close the gap. "You seem pretty good at it."

"The kiddos and I goof around here from time to time," he scissored his skates, leisurely weaving his feet in and out and in again. "Been doing it for a while now, so I've picked up a few things. Not gonna be going pro anytime soon, but I get by."

I attempted to mimic his actions with my own skates and failed miserably, floundering a bit before stabilizing. At least the fumble had brought me a few inches closer. "I'm sure you've brought a girl or two here before too."

He shook his head with a chuckle, "Nah. Never really made any stops along the way between the bar and my apartment when taking a lady friend home. But… I always did think this might be a fun place to take a gal on a date."

Realization struck.

"Wait!" my foot slipped, I staggered and flailed before catching myself. "Is this a date?!"

"Heh, sorta?" his hand went to the nape at the neck, tugging at the hairs there. "More of a mini-date? Or just… chilling together cuz we enjoy the pleasure of each other's dazzling company so much!"

"This is a date!" I repeated, stomping after him furiously now. Which, let me tell you, was not effective in skates at all. But through sheer force of will alone, I managed to get a bit closer. "I was supposed to pay for the next date!"

"And you have!"

I swear I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I most certainly have not!"

Almost there now.

"Have too! It was free. Me and Go Go are tight, like this," he held up one hand, crossing his index with his middle finger, "so I gots the hookups!"

A growling huff escaped me. "Cheater. This doesn't count, I'm paying for the next one."

"This so counts! Next one's on me, you can cover the one after that."

I scoffed. "And give you time to figure out how to con the system again? I don't think so, you-"

I suddenly tripped over the toe stop of my left skate and toppled forward, crashing hard into Lea's back, my arms instinctively latching around his waist. He grunted in surprise and swayed, but managed to keep us both upright and standing. As I hung onto him as if my life depended on it, fingers clutching at the front of his shirt, face buried in his back and inhaling his cinnamon scent mixed with the hint of pizza that still clung to his clothes from having gotten off work not too long ago, it slowly sunk in…

Mission accomplished.

Move made.

...albeit accidentally.

But still!

One small step for Elsa, one giant leap for introvert-kind everywhere.

Maybe the next one I'd actually do on purpose.

Cheeks burning now, I awkwardly cleared my throat as I relaxed my grip on the fabric of his Pizza Planet polo and started to withdraw my arms, mumbling, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't," Lea said quickly, covering my hands with his and squeezing, forcing them to stay put right where they were. I could feel him pushing us off into a slow glide once more. "Don't… worry about it. It's fine, I don't mind. Take all the time you need to regain your footing."

"...thank you," I muffled into his shoulder blade. Then I hesitated, gnawing on my bottom lip. "...you know… for a guy who's never been an actual boyfriend before, you're actually really good at this."

I could feel his laugh rumble through his whole chest. "Thanks," he said, gently pulling on my arm to bring me around to his side so he could look down at me as he slung an arm over my shoulders, all while making sure my arms remained firmly secured around his midsection. There was a faint redness to his face, probably from the exertion of all this roller-skating. I could only hope he'd assume that was my excuse too. "I guess I was just waiting for the right person to come waltzing into my life." Then he winked and grinned, "That person being your uncle of course."

Eyes widening, I stumbled again, grasping Lea more tightly. "My… you mean the Duke?"

"Hell yeah, the Duke! Talk about silver fox! I mean, hot damn, mamma may I!" he fanned himself with his free hand.

Snorting, I shook my head. "I guess the heart wants what the heart wants."

He chuckled, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. "Seriously though, if it weren't for his Royal High-And-Snootiness marching into the food court and unleashing all holy hell, you and I wouldn't be here doing this right now. I wouldn't be unlocking and realizing my full boyfriend potential and you," he poked the tip of my nose, "wouldn't be experiencing all the joys that come with being the lucky recipient of such attention. He's the one that started it all."

"I suppose that's true," I nodded as I tried to mirror the way his feet moved. How did he make it look so easy?

"And I like to think we have fun with it too," he smiled down at me.

I returned it. "We do."

"Good. On that note," he reached down, unfastening my arms from his waist as he announced, "let's make like a pair of professional roller rinkers and dance!" Taking my hand in his, he whipped me into a couple tight spins.

"Roller rinkers?" I laughed softly when I came to a shaky stop, one hand going to his chest to steady myself. "Don't think that's a real term."

"Hey now, who's the one who actually knows how to skate here?" he smirked, twirling me out wide now. "Trust me, I know the lingo."

I rolled my eyes as he pulled me back in. "My mistake. Forgive me for questioning you, oh supreme fountain of roller-skating knowledge."

"Damn skippy! Now for the flashy finish," his hand went to the small of my back and he bent me backwards into a low dip, waggling his eyebrows at me as he did so.

And that's when it all went wrong.

For you see, I don't think nature ever intended for one human being to dip another while both had tiny wheels attached to their feet.

"Motherfu-" that's all Lea got out before our skates shot out from beneath us and we both went crashing painfully to the floor, him on top of me.

I heard him groan, then, "Shit! El, you okay?!" He hastily braced himself up onto his hands, hovering over me and eyes full of concern.

"Fine," I winced, my fingers going to rub the sore spot at the back of my head. "Let's just… leave the dancing to the professional roller rinkers from now on, okay?"

Relieved, he gave a low breathy laugh and pushed himself back to sit on his knees. "That sounds like quitter talk and I won't stand for it."

I sat up, propping my palms against the cold hardwood behind me. "Good, better not to stand period. Less chance of falling that way."

"C'mon, you. Back on the horse," he grinned, drawing a knee up to his chest to get one skate under him followed by the other before standing and reaching his hands down towards me.

With a sigh, I took them and let him pull me back up to my feet. "Alright, but no more dipping."

One arm encircling my shoulders once more, his eyes crinkled. "I make no such promises."

That earned him an elbow to the ribcage.

Author's Note: Here, have the latest batch of lil references I've baked up fresh out of the oven xP I actually don't have any fun facts for this chapter, I just simply delighted in getting to expand on the mall a bit and injecting more gooey, mushy fluff xD Personally, this is up there for one of my fave chapters of the whole story, haha!

Next chapter, will our couple continue to perfect their fake dating skillz? How will their actual relationship keep developing and evolving? Will Elsa ever successfully "make a move" on purpose? Will the two of them ever realize their as yet unspoken dream of being professional roller rinkers and take the skating world by storm? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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crystaljins · 5 years

Text

Take a chance. | 01

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Synopsis: You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

Hanahaki!au

Notes: This fic took me more than 6 months to write. It’s been in development since January. It is, by far, the longest and hardest fic I have written yet and there’s still a lot of things I’m unsure about in terms of how the characters act and how they are characterised. But I put so much effort in that I think it’s a waste not to share it with you guys. So without any further ado, I present to you my latest project.

Warnings: Angst. Graphic depictions of vomiting. Mentions of illness and death.

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

You’ve come across Hanahaki before. After all, your brother is a doctor who specialises in treating it. But more than that- it’s a disease that comes from unrequited love, and since you are a wedding planner, it would be more surprising if you hadn’t encountered a few bruised hearts along the way. Weddings just seems to be a place where unrequited love exposes itself. A bridesmaid, with a bit of an unexplained cough in the days leading up to the wedding, or maybe a groomsman who looks a little pale on the day of the rehearsal dinner, or even once when the cleaners reported to you that they found the dreaded petals that are a hallmark of the deadly disease scattered all over the bathroom floor but cleaned it up before anyone could see. Before the wedding could be ruined. After all, nothing puts a damper on a wedding like one of its attendees suffering from the dreaded Hanahaki disease. But you’ve never encountered it in such proximity as you are in this moment- most people will hide the disease until they are able to get treatment, in the form of therapy, or even hypnotherapy or surgery in more severe cases. You usually don’t know about it until after the wedding but here it is, right in front of you, before you’d even started. The crimson rose petals look like blood splatters across the pristine white tiles of the bathroom floor.

When the manager to your small event-planning business, the very man who had helped you start it up five years ago and had been your partner since, first asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding, you’d thought it would be a relatively simple affair. You certainly never could have imagined that your quiet business partner could be suffering to such a degree right beneath your nose. Outside the bathroom, the engagement party that he had invited you to is in full swing. You’d come to meet his best friend, your new client- she had apparently seen the viral video that launched your career as a wedding planner many years ago and begged Jungkook to invite you. Honestly, as long as she didn’t ask for a discount, you were more than happy to plan her wedding for her. Jungkook, though not the most reliable person in the world, and not even your favourite coworker, has a big heart and good intentions and you’d have to be heartless to turn down a favour to him.

That was how this all started- at his invite you had worn one of your nicer dresses and made your trek to the engagement party with the intention of meeting your next clients. Only, when you had turned up earlier in the night, he had been nowhere to be found despite having invited you and you didn’t know what the bride-to-be or her fiancé looked like. After ploughing awkwardly through small talk with people you didn’t know and searching desperately for Jungkook, you’d opted to lock yourself in the small bathroom to try and call him.

Only to find him collapsed and surrounded by the eerie rose petals behind the door he’d forgotten to unlock. Jungkook gazes up at you with slightly fearful, unfocused eyes. They are bloodshot, perhaps from the effort of the hacking cough that no doubt accompanied such an episode. His hair, which is always a little fluffy and messy because he falls asleep at his desk and presses it into weird shapes by doing so, is a total mess now. It sticks up in every direction. You hadn’t noticed it before now, but he’s also lost weight- his cheek bones have lost that soft, round appearance they’d had when he’d first approached you to start a business together. Now his face is all sharp angles. And his entire body shakes with the effort he has just exerted.

“Jungkook,” You croak, and you wince at the way your voice comes out. “Wha-“

“Will you still organise her wedding?” He interrupts, as if your plans to organise his best friend’s wedding is the most pressing part of the predicament you are in. And not, you know, the fact that your assistant, your business partner, the person who’d helped you build your business up from the ground, is dying. In one of the most agonising, miserable ways that someone could slowly die.

“Is that important right now?” You cry. “How long have you-“

You are interrupted right then by a gentle knock on the door.

“Kookie?” You hear a soft, female voice call. “Are you ok? You’ve been in there a while.”

Jungkook’s eyes go round and slightly shiny with panic and the words die in your throat. The woman on the other side of the door is almost definitely the best friend he was talking about- his panicked reaction pretty much confirms it. And since he’s in the bathroom of her engagement party heaving deadly flowers across the sleek white tiles, she’s probably the cause behind his Hanahaki. Exposing his disease would probably be very, very bad. Yet, he’s barely strong enough to lift himself from where he is collapsed against the bathroom cabinet, let alone discard of the bright red rose petals that would expose him as not only being in love with someone who doesn’t love him back, but also to be dying from that love. The doorknob slowly begins to turn since you hadn’t remembered to lock it (although, neither had he).

You don’t know why you help him. Yes, he’s your business partner, but he’s never been more than that. The one and only time you’d ever made an attempt to get to know him outside of a work setting and invited him to come along to an event one of your friends was putting on, he’d politely declined and hightailed it out of there like you’d invited him to join some sort of cult. Your other employees had gleefully agreed and had the time of their lives, but not him. Since then, you’d gotten the hint that he only wanted a professional relationship and had never made any sort of attempt to cross that boundary again. Even coming to this party had been a difficult decision since prior to this request he had been so determined to draw a line in the sand. This is the extent of your relationship- so you have no obligation or reason to help him.

But you want to. Something about the way that he looks at you, fear-stricken and devastated, has your body responding before your mind catches up.

“He’s fine!” You call out to the voice on the other side of the door. The doorknob pauses in its agonisingly slow turn. “He’s just had a little too much to drink!”

“Who’s that?” The woman’s voice responds, sounding surprised and a little alarmed. Jungkook winces.

“I’m a friend of Jungkook’s.” You answer back. “It’s a massive mess in here, trust me, you do not want to come in right now. He’s vomited. Like, everywhere.” You explain in a flustered panic.

“He has? Oh my goodness- hold on, I’ll-“ The woman exclaims, about to burst in and ruin both her life and her best friend’s.

“Don’t worry about him, ok? He’s fine. I’ll take clean up and take him home- enjoy your engagement party!” You urge hastily before she can do it. There is a moment of silence on the other side.

“Kook,” The voice calls softly. “Is that true?”

Jungkook stares at you for a long moment in complete and utter bewilderment. Like he can’t fathom why you’re helping him. Honestly, neither can you. He’s not even been a particularly good manager. He always double books your appointments and keeps spilling food crumbs on the keyboard and breaking it when they get stuck between the keys. And the other week he broke the coffee machine and both Seokjin and Seri had had mental breakdowns as a direct result. Even if this business was only started because he helped you when no one else did, it had been in an entirely professional sense. He had made that much clear. And professionals wouldn’t help each other with a messy and complicated situation like this- if it were Seokjin you wouldn’t have even come to the engagement party.

“Yes.” He croaks. “I’m fine, Minah.” His voice is raspy and cracked, and it actually sounds like he’s been heaving his guts out. Which, he sort of has. Just, not because of alcohol.

“If you’re sure.” She answers and then she leaves- she is probably keen to return to her engagement party and not that keen to clean vomit off the floor of her fiancé’s bathroom.

The two of you are silent as you crouch down. There’s a dustpan tucked beneath the bathroom sink. You use it to gather up the petals and flush them down the toilet. You then turn to Jungkook- he looks like he’s just run a marathon while suffering from food poisoning. He’s pale and sweaty and the dark circles beneath his eyes look like bruises. Hesitantly, you tug the hand towel off the ring next to the sink and pass it to him.

“Was that her?” You ask. You don’t elaborate further- you don’t really need to. Isn’t he here, on the verge of passing out in the bathroom instead of enjoying the party thrown to celebrate his best friend’s happiness? That in itself is telling enough. He’s in love with his best friend. And, if the sweet-smelling petals and engagement party outside are anything to go by, she does not feel the same way.

“Yes.” He says. His voice is close to a whisper. “That was her.”

He lets out a soft, weak groan as he raises the towel and wipes the sweat off his brow. His hair clings to his forehead and his white shirt is slightly translucent because it is now sweat soaked. He’s a complete, total mess.

“How long have you…” Your voice dies in your throat, for some reason. This whole situation is a lot to process and you don’t even know where to start or what to ask. “How long have you been… like this?”

Of course, the real question is, how long have you missed this? How long has your partner been suffering, dying, without you even suspecting it? Perhaps he senses the sheer distress that builds up in you like a tsunami wave for he cannot look you in the eye as he admits his next words.

“Just over a year. Since she… since she started dating him.” He confesses. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

“A year?” Thankfully you have the presence of mind not to screech the words, but you don’t have the presence of mind to do much else. “You’ve been going through this for an entire year? Are you… have you been getting treatment?”

The disease is treatable, after all. Usually if the person affected can fall out of love, the disease stops progressing, and that is the aim of treatment. Though the side effect of medical intervention in severe cases like you suspect Jungkook’s is, is to lose all memories of the subject of the unrequited love. And while not everyone has to lose their memories to recover from the disease, it’s difficult- impossible for some- to fall out of love without such intervention. It’s why most people who suffer from Hanahaki must endure a combination of surgery, therapy and medication to help them move on. It’s a terrible price to pay for recovery, but the alternative is death.

But Jungkook does not assuage your worries with hasty assurance. Instead, he stares up at you almost balefully and that answers your question. How else could the disease have progressed so far? It looks like an entire bouquet was brutally murdered and left for dead on the floor in front of you. You feel slightly ill yourself- an entire year, suffering on his own. Not once, in that entire year, did Jungkook ask for help. He didn’t take a single sick day. He didn’t complain when you or your other employees got cranky with him for screwing up the rosters or breaking the photocopier or missing his appointment with the accountant.

“Why not?” You breathe, even as tears pool in your eyes and threaten to spill forth. Jungkook’s expression crumples.

“I couldn’t…” He can’t bring himself to say the words for a moment. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. Finally, he looks up at you, and he looks embarrassed. Ashamed. “I didn’t want to forget her. The doctors said that might be the only way for me to get better. She’s my best friend and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the happiest moments of my life… and I was worried she’d get hurt if she knew.”

“Oh Jungkook,” You cry. “But why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you! We could have done something!”

He looks a little sheepish.

“I… didn’t think you needed to know.” He admits.

Oh.

Oh…

For a moment, you are speechless, but then you regain your composure. In all this, how could you forget? Jungkook isn’t your friend. He doesn’t want to be and has never wanted to be. Still… you thought that even though your relationship was to remain strictly professional, that starting a business together meant something- that you could, at the very least, be friends. Clearly not.

“Right.” You say, and you wince at the hurt in your own tone. Jungkook looks surprised to hear it as well. “No, of course. It’s not like we’re partners or anything, right? We’re on a strictly need-to-know basis. It’s stupid for me to care about you since you clearly don’t care about me, so obviously we wouldn’t share about this sort of thing-“

“(Y/N)-“ Jungkook weakly interrupts in a protest, looking surprisingly guilty. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just-“

“It’s fine.” You cut him off hastily, though you avoid his gaze. “Let’s just get you cleaned up and go home, ok?”

Jungkook looks like it is not fine, but he is too weak and exhausted to protest or to try and convince you otherwise. Instead he is forced to focus what little energy he has left on getting home and you are able to act like you’re not upset until you are safely within the confines of your own apartment.

It is there that you crumble weakly to the ground and allow the question you’ve been avoiding the whole time to fill your mind.

What are you going to do?

Days end and days start, and life goes on. You still have to go in for work the next day regardless of what you discovered about your business partner. Thankfully, you don’t have to deal with him straight away- in the morning you take two clients on a venue tour to help them decide where they might like to hold their ceremony, and just before lunch Seri and Seokjin contact you demanding to try a new patisserie that opened up. They claim it would be a great place to trial cake testing and recommend future clients looking for someone to make a cake for their wedding, but you also know the two trouble makers just want to eat cake on the company card.

“Is… Jungkook going to come?” You question hesitantly.

“Does he ever come with us anywhere? He’s skipped five company dinners in a row now.” Seokjin points out impatiently. Seri has you on speaker and you hear her cheer her agreement. “Besides, he’s not the one booking things for clients, we are. He doesn’t need to know if the cakes taste good. We can bring him back one if it matters that much.”

That’s all the convincing you need- it means you can avoid Jungkook just that little longer. It is not like you think less of him, or anything, for being in love with his best friend, or that you are upset that he didn’t tell you. It’s more that you don’t know how to react. One of the reasons he didn’t tell you or the others was probably that he didn’t want to be treated with kid gloves, but you don’t think you can treat him the same when you now know he’s as sick as he is. Therein lies your dilemma- do you treat him the same, knowing he’s ill and requires more patience and kindness and perhaps more time off? Or do you make allowances for him? But what if he doesn’t want that? And are you meant to keep it a secret from Seokjin and Seri?

Those are the questions that plague your mind all throughout your cake-tasting session. Seri and Seokjin seem to notice your distraction.

“Is everything ok?” Seri, the more astute of the two, questions. She is the most recent hire- Seokjin had been complaining that his good looks were garnering more clients that just the two of you could handle and since Jungkook’s job lay less in the event planning side of things and more in the business management side, eventually he had agreed that you had enough clientele to warrant a third hire. Her efficiency and quick-witted nature had quickly won over clients and she brought with her almost as many connections (which were always helpful to have in this industry) as Seokjin did, which was saying something since Seokjin was the son of a very wealthy family. For a moment, you debate lying to her, but the weight of your discovery is too heavy to bear alone.

“Have either of you ever seen the Hanahaki disease before?” You question. Both pause to consider their answers.

“Isn’t that that disease from unrequited love? The one where you throw up flowers or something if the person you love doesn’t love you back? Of course I have!” Seokjin laughs. “You don’t get this beautiful without a few people falling in love with me.”

“Disgusting and ignorant comment aside, it’s a lot more complicated than that.” Seri protests in response to her co-worker. “It’s not if the person doesn’t love you back- it’s if you think they don’t love you back… Didn’t you see that news article the other day about the couple and that woman with self-esteem issues who ended up with disease even though her partner loved her heaps?”

“Pedantics.” Seokjin says dismissively. “Why are you asking though, (Y/N)?” He pauses mid-bite and then his eyes go wide with horror. “Wait… you’re not suffering from it, are you? Ugh, I always knew the thing you had for Jungkook would get you in trouble, I just didn’t think it would be this bad! I thought maybe since not everyone with unrequited feelings ends up with Hanahaki that you were probably safe but I guess I was wrong-“

“I do not have Hanahaki.” You cut him off icily and then blink a few times. “Wait, who said I have a thing for Jungkook?”

Seokjin coughs awkwardly and shovels an absurdly large mouthful of cake into his mouth to avoid answering. Seri looks contemplative.

“If you don’t have it, why are you suddenly asking about it?” She questions, perceptive and quick-on-the-uptake as always. You wince.

“Oh, you know…” You elaborate vaguely, complete with awkward hand gestures. “I think I saw some petals in the bathroom at that wedding I attended last week. You know the one, with the special car they wanted to drive that I had to go to thirteen different mechanics to fix.”

Both Seokjin and Seri wince with sympathy at the recall. Now that they’ve both been working for you for a significant amount of time, they are more familiar with the more specific and difficult requests some clients have when it comes to planning their weddings.

“Thank goodness it was during the ceremony you discovered it.” Seri exclaims. “Imagine having to deal with someone suffering from Hanahaki while trying to plan an intense wedding like that one?”

“What would you do?” You question, eyeing your cake in what you hope is a nonchalant and uninterested way. You’re trying to look like you’re just making casual conversation about a hypothetical situation rather than trying to ask for advice in a very real, very troubling situation. “If you did discover that? Like… say someone from the bridal party or one of the groomsmen had Hanahaki and you found out just after agreeing to plan the wedding?”

“I would quit, probably.” Seri admits, a hand coming up to flip her hair callously over her shoulder. “One of the reasons I’ve always respected you as my boss is because you always stress that some clients are not worth the money that they bring to us. And a wedding like that sounds like it wouldn’t just be stressful for me- It would be detrimental to our business and reputation. Probably wouldn’t make it to the wedding day, anyway.”

For a moment, you just stare at her, bewildered. But then the truth of her statement sinks in- how could you agree to plan this wedding, when things are just messed up before even starting? You like to pride yourself on your ability to see problems before they happen and fix them- it’s why you’re such a successful wedding planner. So, why would you plan a wedding that you knew would be trouble from the moment Jungkook approached you, hands trembling and eyes wide and imploring? No- no. This is not a wedding you want anything to do with.

There is still the issue that refusing to plan this wedding will not magically heal Jungkook. Who even knows how long he has been in love with his best friend? But you suppose there is only so much you can do for him while respecting his boundaries- as much as it hurts you to just leave him alone when you know that he has been suffering in silence for over a year, there is simply nothing you can do. You’ll speak to him and perhaps put him on annual leave until after the wedding is over. Perhaps he’ll finally get the treatment he needs, then, and then things will be back to normal.

You smile weakly at your two employees and both watch you cautiously, perhaps trying to discern the situation behind your vague but concerning questions.

“Thanks guys. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.” You tell them dismissively. “Just something to think about- who knows. Maybe we should implement a Hanahaki work policy.”

Any further discussion is stopped there with the arrival of the next cake, some sort of coconut cream masterpiece, and you think your employees have dropped it.

They really hadn’t though.

Of course, it’s one thing to decide not to do the wedding and an entirely different thing to tell Jungkook that. You manage to avoid the office for the rest of the day by dropping Seokjin and Seri off to finish their affairs and then exerting your rare privilege as the owner of the business to have the afternoon off.

Of course, packed as your schedule is, you can only avoid going into the office space you rent for so long. You’re debating on whether you should cancel on the clients you were meant to meet for a preliminary planning meeting that morning in your car when the door to the passenger seat swings open without warning.

You barely manage to restrain a screech and then you recognise the poorly ironed business slacks and wrinkled cotton button-down of your assistant. You’ve scolded him on numerous occasions for his poor attire at work, but he really does try his best. And after he’d set his apartment on fire trying to iron his business clothes and had to crash on Seokjin’s couch for a week, you’d finally just had to accept that this is how Jungkook dresses. Still, while you can forgive the poor attire, you don’t think you can forgive his startling intrusion into your morning dilemma.

“What are you doing here?” You gasp, with a hand clasped over your chest. Oddly enough, he’s grinning, despite his scruffy appearance. At least it seems that he tried to comb his hair this morning. Still, all the hair gel and grooming products in the world could not tame the wild mop that is Jeon Jungkook’s hair. You recognise and acknowledge his efforts, at least.

“I can’t wish my favourite boss a good morning?” He asks, oddly coy and playful, and you wince. Then his expression sobers. “You’re avoiding me, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’m not exactly seeking you out, but avoiding is a bit of a strong word.” You retort with a slight cringe. “I prefer the term “procrastinating the inevitable confrontation we must have.””

Jungkook stares at you for a long, hard moment. Then his expression changes into a sort of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, but you suppose is meant to be joking and amused.

“What confrontation?” He questions. “Are you going to lecture me on how to comb my hair again? Because I did. Comb my hair I mean. But that’s beside the point, because I’m here to-”

“Jungkook. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re sick. Stop… stop acting like nothing’s wrong.” You interrupt, unwilling to let him beat around the bush.

“It’s a treatable illness.” He points out with a shrug. “But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to know if you’ll still plan Minah’s wedding for her. It’s really important to her- she saw that one video of that wedding we did back when we were just starting out, and it’s been a dream of hers since then for you to plan it-”

“How is that your top priority right now when you’re literally dying?” You snap, and you clamber out of the car. Your heels click noisily against the smooth concrete of the carpark as you attempt to scurry away from him. He’s quick to follow you though, his scuffed dress shoes squeaking against the ground and signalling his noisy pursuit.

“Please!” He begs. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s really important to her-“

“I don’t care about her, Jungkook.” You almost snarl, as you whirl to face him. He narrowly avoids crashing into your back and stares at you in bewilderment. “I haven’t even met her face to face. I care about you. You’re my friend, despite all your attempts to pretend we aren’t. I owe all my success to the fact that you encouraged me when I was at the lowest point in my life. This business only exists because of your help. And I’m not going to spit on that by planning a wedding that will destroy you. So sorry, but no. I’m not going to plan her wedding.”

You plan to walk off then because you hear the familiar ding indicating that the elevator has arrived, but you pause.

“Don’t come into work today.” You warn. “As of today, you’re using all the sick leave, annual leave, whatever leave there is to take until her wedding is over. And then, once you’ve gotten treatment and are fit to work, you can come back. I know a good doctor, if you need one. But I can’t allow you, in good conscience, to keep working here when your health is so poor. There…” You hesitate. But then you draw a deep breath with finality in your tone. “There will always be a place for you here once you’re recovered. In fact, I hope to see you back here when you’re fully recovered.” You say. The silence rings following your firm farewell. You’re running late for your morning meeting anyway.

A hand wraps around your wrist, pausing your retreat.

“Please don’t do this.” Jungkook protests in a serious tone- it contrasts deeply with the earlier playfulness he had attempted to use to lighten the mood. You glare back with a cold authority that you hope reminds him of the fact that even though he helped you start this business, it is yours, and you are his boss.

“I’m sorry.” You say firmly. “I’m not planning this wedding. Go home and get some rest, Jungkook.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the last thing you see before they do are his eyes, wide and pleading.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #btsboulangerie #jungkook fluff #hanahaki au #writing

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