#to those who might have even left tumblr altogether but think back on my blog fondly as a small stage in their life

[amethystpath-writes]

Someone Will Arise- But It Won’t Be You

NOT A PR0MPT

******

“It never gets easier,” Leader said, “seeing them go. You think about their bravery, their selflessness, and you think, ‘How unfair?’ It’s never easy to grieve them.”

Sidekick nodded along as they watched Hero’s casket lower into the ground. “How do you get through it?” Leader was old- a mentor to tens of heroes before Hero, and Sidekick could never imagine living through so much sorrow.

“You understand it, then you come to terms with it. None of them died in vain, but they would if we were to deny their deaths. You must face it,” Leader explained. “Only then can you honor them.”

“Do you think the villains ever regret killing our heroes?” After seeing so many people at the funeral, even Sidekick felt guilty. For what, they weren’t sure. It felt like they could have done something- could have asked what Hero was up to before they left base so suddenly.

Leader’s eyes never strayed from their neutral squint, but they found Sidekick’s eyes. “I think villains have a cause of their own, and though our heroes’ deaths are necessary to them, they grieve the messages they failed to send with their deaths.”

“Will we ever find them?” Sidekick asked. “The messages the villains can’t send?”

Looking back to the arch of the lid, Leader watched Hero disappear beneath the dirt. They let out a breath. “What do you define a villain as?”

It was a change of subject, but Sidekick thought about it. “Someone evil. Someone who kills. Someone hopeless. Someone who has stopped caring about happy endings.” They could ramble on and on.

With a hum, Leader said, “Maybe you’re right.” The funeral company was lessening, leaving Leader, Sidekick, the and gravediggers among polished headstones. “You can never be sure, can you? Some of them have everything they could ever want, and that is precisely why they turn to villainy. Imagine,” they said, “never having to fight for anything at all. How miserable.” As if they felt Sidekick’s curious stare, they defended, “I don’t condone villainy, of course.” They shrugged. “But I understand it.”

As the dirt was beat flat atop Hero’s casket, Sidekick asked, “What happens now, then?”

Hero was gone, and in their place, no one volunteered their bravery. Villain was loose with no one to stop them.

“Someone else will arise. They’ll listen to our villains, they’ll understand, and like every hero before them, they’ll die.”

Wise. That’s what Leader was supposed to be, but speaking to them now, Sidekick was only confused. Why did Leader expect every hero to die?

“What if I became the next hero of the city?”

“You wouldn’t deserve that,” they remarked. “But I know someone who does.”

******

#not a pr0mpt #hero x villain #hero x villain story #hero x villain drabble #hero x villain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #betrayal #I don’t have any funnies this time because it is late and I am sleepy without being able to sleep #BUT I can say that I appreciate you guys :) #thank you for all my continuous readers who are there no matter how far apart I post #to the ones who turn post notifs on because they’re excited to see what I’ve conjured next #to the ones who might even forget about me but become excited when I’m on their dash #to those who might have even left tumblr altogether but think back on my blog fondly as a small stage in their life #to those who don’t follow or interact and read anyway #to those who don’t think my writing is their style but they read anyway #to everyone #you are all equally amazing <3 #goodnight loves

[mtnkat3]

Well.

& another one bites the dust!!!!!*🎶

🤔🤨🧐😯😳😖😝🙃😕

Ya know what people..

I do not think my blog is explicit.

But tumblr labeled me because I did nsfw to keep people from being ew at work!

Then there's the fact that I don't interact often with those under 25 years of age. Except in retail environs.

Therefore to keep children safe, because I do not agree that anyone under the age of 21 is able to be cognizant of the responsibilities of adulthood.

["You live under my roof, you abide my rules" until such time you move out. Some, that's 18yo & I get that. I commend those people that have succeeded in life after such a push from the nest. Most women in the classical southern upbringing aren't going to experience such. No one in my family did. Maybe it would've helped me. But alas, the military was not God's Plan for me.]

I will assist parents the best way I know how.

Maybe that's what tumblr should do.

《Oh & btw @support 》

Instead of screwing up my header & avatar. And now going further & adding "mature" as well as that stupid "to view blog "/explicit label.

How about this...

If the blog owner is over the age of 21 years old then it be labeled as mature.

No matter what the blogs content is.**

And anyone who comes onto tumblr has to give full birthdate now.

So.

Block those under 21yo from any blog over said age.

That way you aren't flagging blog posts, & entire blogs, left & right over stupid crap.

That way it is based on a persons age.

Once that legality is taken care of if someone doesn't want to see blank, bot, porn... or any of the myriad of other things.....

THEY CAN KEEP SCROLLING OR UNFOLLOW ALTOGETHER.

But blogs that I would like to see, based on their reblogged posts, are unavailable to me because of this stupid labeling that is now obsolete.

That way it has nothing to do with individual blog content. But rather a simple age system for the entire site. It's not destroying something that people worked years to create.

It should theoretically lessen your workload exponentially.

.

Oh & All the bots that have followed me lately that there's nothing there but stolen header images & saying top,%s, & other bs.

I AM TIRED OF ALMOST ONCE AN HOUR HAVING TO REPORT & BLOCK THAT CRAP.

So instead of allowing that, & putting "labels" on blogs & images that should be for mature adults anyways.

How about you fix that

!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!

How about you revamp it that as I suggested above.^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

=age.

=Mature vs under 21yo.

I think your jobs as support staff would go a lot smoother in your knox center if you did that.

It would cover you legally.

& give people back their header/avatars.

Might even stop needing to destroy people blogs.

It's free speech & all the constitutional rights stuff ya know.

Age.

It'd be wonderful if you would lessen the infomercials too!!!

Or perhaps create a tab for them...

🧐🤔🤨🙃🤓👩‍🏫

.

I lost ~250+/- followers because I got tired of following the crowd & reblogging the same thing everyone else was doing. So I started talking about my life. Hoping that my struggles to escape domestic abuse, as well as my life's journey, my faith, might inspire someone. Or at least show people they are not alone.

Anyways.

Stepping off my soapbox now.

Be creative thinkers, not mindless automaton drones sheep.

The more music, movies, tv shows I see being recycled or/or altered to fit a particular mindset the more I wonder about this world.

Why I watch shows like 'Bones' & 'Mysteries of the unknown' more than any other type of programming.

I am tired of social engineering.

But if tumblr wants to simplify things & clean up an old programmer code mess...

Changing it to blog owner age across the board would simplify things like crazy.

I think I could do it in one line of code. [Been a long time, I admit that. But that's the household I live in.]

**[Perhaps a filter for NSFW vs home design vs political, etc. Type of things would appease that need to put nudity under wraps. Maybe... under settings...🤓🤔 ]

Ok. I got stuff to do. Groceries to put away.

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix.

*[Btw... I love the "gathering at Christmas time at the table" image. But not being able to like another image set me off. Sheepish blushin grin.]

Th.12.22.2022 5.29pm est.

[buckyownsmylife]

I've Told You Now - Lee Bodecker smut

The one where Lee seduced his sister's babysitter.

Warnings: smut, dubcon, age gap, innocence kink, dirty talk, loss of virginity, blood

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. My original intention for this October was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which expanded on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the story I wrote for @slothspaghettiwrites! You were the biggest reason I fell for Lee and it was only appropriate I wrote you this! I only hope it doesn't disappoint! Special thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog who helped me believe this was good enough to be posted! @sweeterthanthis also has a big hand at this!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was finishing packing up the toys in the living room when I heard the door slam, startling me into dropping the box of legos on the ground. Looking at the clock, I considered the time before looking back at the hall again. When no one appears from the hallway, I get confused. If the Hendersons hadn’t come home earlier than they intended, who else could it be?

“Waiting for me, bunny?” I immediately straightened out at the sight of Sheriff Bodecker, trying to resist the urge not to flush and keep eye contact, but ultimately failing to do so. I hadn’t seen him since the night he offered to give me a ride home and I ended up with his cock in my throat, his cum in my mouth.

“I-I didn’t even know you were coming.” Silence followed my confession as he slowly approached, eyes never leaving my body while I tried to keep myself up. He’d always had this effect on me. I remembered being a young girl and Sheriff Bodecker being the crush I knew was too old to be mine, the guy I’d never have even in a million years, but that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about him.

If I thought that maybe having him would help this infatuation disappear, it’d become clear by now that it wouldn’t be the case at all.

“And here I was, thinking you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” The Sheriff tsked, and the sound went straight to my already dampened underwear. I couldn’t process his words very well, given how close he was and how loud my own heartbeat was ringing in my ears. Did he mean to say that he actually really wanted me?

“If that was really the case,” he taunted, circling me like I was some sort of prey. “You’d always be expecting me, wouldn’t you? But it’s alright, honey. You know why?” When I shook my head, he answered his own question, a single finger running down my jaw to guide me to look him in the eye. “Because I think you were expecting me. You’re always expecting me, looking for me wherever you go, just like I do. And there’s an easy way to prove my theory.”

Before I could question it, his arms embraced me from behind, hands slowly running down my stomach until they reached the edge of my skirt. I started sweating in anticipation. I knew what he would find.

“Let me check.” His fingers went over the fabric first, and he chuckled when he noticed how wet it was. “Would you look at that?” I was already trembling when he pulled my panties to the side and ran that same digit over my lower lips, just lightly grazing them. “Soaked already.”

Although I couldn’t see it, the humming sound he emitted after taking his fingers from under my dress didn’t leave me any doubt about what he did with the moisture he collected. Just the thought of him enjoying my taste that much had me weak in the knees, and I tried to keep myself up by reaching for a chair nearby.

Lee’s P.O.V.

I chuckled to myself at how sensitive she was, barely able to keep up with the little I’d done so far. Then again, it was clear I had a particularly strong effect on her. That had been obvious for a while, ever since she started working for my sister, probably - around the same age her womanly features began to stand out.

She seemed unable to look me directly in the eyes, always averting her gaze and biting her lower lip when I decided to stop around here for a coffee or check in on the little rugrat. I began doing this a lot more often after she was hired, but neither her nor my sister seemed to connect the dots.

Her innocence, her beauty just left me so fucking hard. I was hard right then, and I wanted her to know it. So I pressed my body against her back, lightly grinding my member against the curve of her ass.

“I suppose you’re finished for the day,” I speculated, knowing once the kid was out all she had to do was wait for my sister and her husband to arrive. “Guess I can help you unwind…”

She gasped when she felt my hardness, making me chuckle. “Your sister and her husband should be back soon…” She tried to reason, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“We’ll be quiet anyway. Can’t risk waking up the kid.” I gripped her wrist and pulled her on the direction of the guest bedroom, now fully unable to control myself. I was so close to having what I had wanted for so long.

She looked unsure of herself as I closed the door behind us, and I raised an eyebrow in a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her weight from one foot to another, fingers playing with the hem of her skirt.

“I-I don’t know about this…” Chuckling, I approached her to cradle her face between my hands and deposit a kiss on those sweet lips.

“Don’t you trust me, pretty girl?” I had caught her now, we both knew it. She’d never risk disappointing or offending me, so when her mouth opened to explain herself and I raised an eyebrow in warning, it was only a matter of seconds until she closed it altogether and nodded, her eyes dropping to her feet.

“Yes, I do.” My smirk was full of victory, and I could taste it in my lips now. It was as sweet as the nectar between her legs I’d only had a taste of.

“There you go.” Approaching her once more, I settled my hands on her hips before leaning to kiss her shoulder. “Besides…” I continued, already bunching up her dress to get rid of it as quickly as possible. “You obviously need me to take care of you and this little wet hole.”

She bucked when my fingers rubbed her this time, dress already forgotten on the floor as I slowly shoved down the fabric of her underwear to join it. Once she was completely naked, I ran my digits over her cunt, verifying that her wetness was already so overwhelming that it was threatening to drip from her.

“So sweet.” I hummed once I wrapped my lips around those digits, tasting her on my tongue again. Yes, I was already obsessed. I think anyone who had the chance to try her nectar would understand my situation - but no one ever would.

She was mine now, and I would never let her go.

“C’mon, bunny.” Patting her ass, I directed her to the bed, chuckling at how embarrassed she seemed, being this exposed to my hungry gaze. “Be a good girl and spread your legs. Be my little angel, won’t you?”

I wished I could have done this somewhere more private - my own house, instead of my sister’s. But I just couldn’t wait anymore. My cock twitched inside my pants. I felt like I was drunk on this, drunk on her.

“C’mon, honey!” I repeated, lightly slapping the outside of her thigh. “I wanna fuck you. And I know you want to be mine, pretty girl. You can’t hide it from me.”

When she finally relented and slowly parted her beautiful legs for me, I nearly melted at the sight. Driven by my desire, I unbuckled my belt and worked to whip my cock out as quickly as possible, smirking at the wide, innocent eyes that settled on my member as I fisted it in preparation.

“Doesn’t it look good?” I teased, climbing on the bed to take my spot between her legs, rubbing the head of my dick against her slit. “I’m gonna have you taste it next time. But for now…”

Resting my forehead against hers, I slowly started to penetrate her tight pussy, slipping only the head at first, even though I was aching to fuck her throughly.

“This is gonna hurt a little,” I warned, not able to stop mid-way to let her adjust but keeping my invasion of her maidenhood slow until I had bottomed out inside of her. “Sh…” I tried to calm her, gently wiping away the few tears running down her soft cheeks. “I know it hurts, bunny. But you can take it, can’t you?”

She managed to nod despite her whimpers, and I brushed her tears away as I warned her, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

It took a little while, but at last, she opened her eyes and I waited until she was able to focus them on me again. “You look so pretty, bunny…” I whispered, kissing her while I finally started to move inside of her, stopping only to moan out loud at her overwhelming tightness.

“I’m gonna train you until all you can think about is my cock,” I warned her, slowly pulling out until only the head of my cock was keeping her open.

“I can’t wait any longer.” Slamming my dick all the way in, I felt her nails running down my back, leaving trails of blood behind - trails I wouldn’t mind wearing under my shirt, sting as they might.

“I promise you, honey…” I panted, sweat already dripping from my forehead onto her pretty face. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m not inside of you.”

I kissed her cheek, rubbing my nose against it as she held me tightly against her. “I know you don’t want any of those boys you used to go to school with touching what I’ve already taken.”

She nodded quickly, my pretty little honey. Yes, she was mine already and she knew it. “It’s alright, pretty girl…” I soothed her as she started to whine, her cunt clenching deliciously around me. “It’s alright, cum with me…”

She closed her eyes when she met bliss, but I kept mine wide open so I wouldn’t miss her perfect expression of pleasure. It was almost enough to keep me hard, but I wasn’t as young as I once was.

I never pulled out of her tight heaven, keeping her body snuggled against me. I was happy that I decided to be patient, if it meant I now got to have her like this.

“I hope you know that you’re mine now, bunny.”

#my fics #lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker reader #smut #lee bodecker reader insert #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker reader inserts

[fishoutofcamelot]

Hi there! I hope you’re well. I just wanted to send a message to thank you for the elyan content 😍 he is my favourite knight but for some reason I never see much of him on tumblr! So it’s awesome to see him on your blog. I hope I didn’t bother you with this ask 🙈

I AM doing well, actually! And you didn’t bother me, asks will probably never bother me <3

I could go on for a million years about why no one makes content about Elyan - and sometimes forget he exists altogether - but I don’t wanna start drama so we’ll just. Not touch that topic with a 10-foot pole

BUT! Elyan IS a fantastic knight, and the fact that he is your favourite knight too is very iconic and sexy of you. Elyan fans/stans are the sexiest members of this fandom. That’s not even opinion, that’s just science

So! Here’s a list of Elyan headcanons, because he’s worth it:

Elyan is ace. Them’s the facts

He’s also gay but in that stage where he’s questioning if he might be bi. Unfortunately, he died before reaching an answer

I hate to talk about Hogwarts Houses in 2020, but he is one hell of a Hufflepuff. Elyan is his name and protecting his loved ones with life and limb is his game. It is very easy to earn his loyalty, and once you have he will ride straight through Hell for you

Elyan likes hoods. He wears hoods whenever he can (i mean c’mon, that outfit in season 3 was serving some killer looks)

He’s just a protective older brother to literally everyone in Camelot. Yes, even Gaius

Gwen, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin have family game night once every month. They all gather in their old house in the lower town to get drunk, play some dice games, and spend the whole night goofing off

Only a few people know about game night. Even fewer people have seen it with their own eyes. Arthur and Gwaine frequently try to sneak in to see game night for themselves, but somehow never succeed

Elyan loves swimming. They don’t get many chances for it, but whenever they do, Elyan is the best swimmer out of all the knights

He’s also like. Really good at sneaking up on people. Consistently rolls high on stealth checks

Out of everyone in the Round Table, Elyan is the most easily spooked. He hates it when they gather around the fire to tell ghost stories, bc he will NOT be able to sleep the rest of the night after that

Why do people think there’s no dynamic or chemistry between Elyan and Gwaine??? Those two had a SOLID friendship and I will not stand for this disrespect (also, Perelyan is good but Elyaine is godtier imo)

Elyan is bad at blacksmithing. Like really bad. No one even understands how that works, considering he spent his whole childhood training under his father. All the blacksmithing talent apparently went to Gwen somehow

He likes bugs. When he was a kid he would go out in the woods and collect beetles and stuff to stick in little terrarium jars. He’d even give them names and backstories and personalities. Sometimes he would sit under a tree and tell Gwen stories about all these adventures his bugs would go on when no one was looking

Leon HATED bugs, and got creeped out by them, which meant Elyan was legally obligated to harass him about it

Elyan doesn’t get much chance to catch bugs anymore, but he’s also the only member of the Round Table who can put up with spiders

Spider in the armory? Everyone is freaking out while Elyan just calmly picks it up and lets it outside - but not without lots of snark and eye-rolling, of course

The reason Elyan ran away from home was because his mother had died and he saw it as a personal failing. He felt that it was his fault she was dead, because he couldn’t protect her, and left Camelot because he couldn’t bear the shame of guilt

In the last few years of his time away from Camelot, Elyan fell in love and lived out an mlm cottagecore fantasy where he and his lover raised wyverns together. But when Morgause came to capture him, she killed his lover and burnt their wyvern farm to the ground

Elyan tries not to let his grief be known, though. Not just because he doesn’t want to burden Gwen with his pain, but also because his lover had magic and he could get arrested for having fallen in love with a sorcerer

Morgause had Elyan captive for a while before Gwen showed up. She even used the nathair on him in small increments; not long enough to kill him or damage him irreparably, but enough to make him suffer. It’s for this reason that Elyan was able to bounce back from being tortured by Morgana whereas Gwaine didn’t survive it, because Morgause had already microdosed him with that kind of pain two years ealier

Still traumatizing, though. Like. This boy is EXTREMELY traumatized, can someone please get him some therapy???

Moving back to Camelot with Gwen was simultaneously healing and harming. Healing, because  he visited his dad’s grave, rebuilt his relationship with Gwen, and his companionship with her, Merlin, and Leon helped him move on from the pain of his loss. But harming because of all the anti-magic prejudice that surrounded him, and every time someone said magic was evil it was like another dagger in his heart. That was his dead lover they were talking about and calling a monster. Someone who was kind and compassionate and funny, who didn’t have a lick of evil in them, who would have burned at the stake by Camelot’s laws

Elyan didn’t think about what it meant to be a knight of Camelot when he agreed to be knighted. But he was just so determined to fight and kill Morgause, the woman who had killed his lover and his wyverns and abducted him from his home, that he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted Morgause dead. It wasn’t until a few days later when he realized that being a knight of Camelot meant enforcing Camelot’s anti-magic laws, and this realization naturally caused him distress

Instead of abandoning his knighthood, Elyan found a compromise. He would support Arthur in everything, until magic got involved. If Arthur ever captured druids or put sorcerers to death, Elyan decided he would smuggle them out of the city. He would never actively kill or capture those with magic, and would sometimes even try to sabotage efforts in capturing harmless magic-users

Elyan knew full well what Dragoon was doing. He knew that Gwen and Arthur’s love was true and required no enchantment, meaning Dragoon had simply framed himself to get Gwen out of a jam. He appreciates Dragoon, and even though he supposedly killed Uther, Elyan can’t even fault him for that. Elyan wanted to kill Uther too

Merlin is the little brother Elyan always wanted, and Elyan is the older brother Merlin never had. They act so much like siblings it’s not even funny, and some people question if they were actually raised together 

He and Merlin like to team up and tease Gwen. They’ll walk behind her and chant stuff like “Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. They’re like children, and it’s both very funny and very annoying

Gwen gets her revenge, of course. She always gets her revenge

They also team up to be like. Super protective of Gwen. The vetting process Arthur had to go through - between Elyan, Leon, AND Merlin - in order to date Gwen was ridiculous

Arthur: Merlin I’m literally your boss. Your friend. You've been my personal manservant for like six years now

Merlin: Yeah, which means I know exactly how much of a dick you are

After being possessed by the druid ghost, Elyan is a lot more in tune with the supernatural

Am I suggesting that Elyan can now see, talk to, and interact with ghosts, and even starts a little agency where he goes around helping them complete their unfinished business? Why yes, yes I am

When Gwen was banished, Elyan wanted to go with her. But she asked him to stay behind and keep an eye on Agravaine, as she suspected him of treachery, and to stop him from taking over Camelot should Agravaine make a move. And, well, Elyan has never been able to say no to his sister

Elyan and Merlin decided to try and find a way to prove Gwen’s innocence. There’s no way she was acting of her own accord, after all. There was some kind of enchantment at play, there had to be. Merlin doesn’t tell him about Shade!Lancelot directly, but does propose it as a theory regarding how Lancelot had come back from the dead. Elyan supports the theory 100%

About two months after the wedding, Merlin and Elyan locate the enchanted bracelet, and Gwen and Lancelot’s names are finally cleared

In Avalon, Elyan, Freya, and Lancelot spend the whole time watching/narrating the events of season 5 like sports commentators. They are all mutually exasperated at Merlin’s antics

When Arthur shows up in Avalon, the only reason Elyan doesn’t punch him in the face is because he’s too busy restraining Lance from doing the same

He does, however, give him a strong talking-to about how “all your magic and you still can’t save my life” is a horrible thing to say actually

Lancelot, however, is more upset about the “I guess I was wrong” speech

Gwaine shows up in Avalon like. SUPER traumatized. He died while being tortured by a nathair, died in a way that he perceived to be failure, and he’s kinda messed up because of that. Elyan, who has already had a few years to cope with nathair torture, is the one who helps Gwaine heal from his trauma

In the 21st century, Elyan gets reincarnated along with everyone else. His childhood is plagued with weird dreams, dreams that terrify him. Snakes and pain, wyverns and fire, all of it. He meets an old man who calls himself Merlin, who helps Elyan through the pain of remembering his past life. For once, Elyan gets to be taken care of instead of the other way around. For once, he is allowed to be vulnerable and weak and struggling. He doesn’t hide his tears. He gets the help he needs and works through his trauma

And one day, many years later, he is walking down the street when he sees someone who looks oddly familiar. The face of an old lover, perhaps

Thanks for the ask! <3

#Merlin Fandom Stop Forgetting About Elyan Challenge #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #ask #fish post

[theangryjikooker]

I’m really curious about what’s your "unpopular opinions" towards Jikook haha I’m kinda stereotypically I’m-not-a-shipper-I’m-a-supporter-UwU type ngl and I guess we’d probably disagree about a lot of things as I personally believe these two are an item and have been for years now…

BUUUT I’m bored and annoyed with Jikook shippers lately! I don’t inow if it’s because of the influx of new fans and so logically new shippers and the fact that Jikook have been as everybody likes to say "loud" since last year but some people are really something else… Analyzing every single moment, every tiny detail, and as you said if you have a different opinion or just simply don’t think they’re together then you’re automatically an anti or an homophobe or another shipper, come on.. I started to follow jikookers a year and a half ago and it was not like that, at like here in tumblr, now it’s mostly either negative or very weird and obsessive, I’ve read many stuff around it that were borderline stalking behavior and it made me so uncomfortable. I unfollowed most of the jikookzrs I use to like, I still come read the tag but sometimes I ask myself why I am even doing this.

Anyway, I’ll come back read what you have to say ;)

I'm pushing this ask to the front of the line because anon basically said they intended to come back and read what I have to say, and anon sounds like a sweetheart. Unfortunately, my asks are getting backlogged because I keep getting interrupted by questionable Jkkrs.

FYI it's okay to be here and to be a full-on Jikook supporter! I'm angry with toxic Jkkrs, not the Jkkr community at large.

To answer your question, I don't want to get into the nitty gritty because I need to save some for content LOL, but for an example: I don't think they live together. Might they be living in the same area/close vicinity? Sure, that's reasonable. Do they meet up and hang out all the time? Sure, yeah. HOWEVER, I also don't think it's an overreach for Jkkrs to think that they're living together. Personally? I like the idea of it, but I don't believe they are. The conflict comes into play with toxic Jkkrs (because apparently I have to continue to specify who it is I'm talking about on this blog) who say with little regard for reality: "They ARE living together. The signs are all there, how blind can you be? BLOCK THIS PERSON, THEY'RE TOXIC WAAAAH."

Excuse me, who made you god? I need to brush up on my encyclopedia of religion! Were you there? Did they invite you over for dinner and retire to the same bedroom? Were you a fly on their wall? Teach me the Animagus spell, I want to see too!

This is what I mean when I say I have an unpopular opinion, but I guarantee you I'll have someone chime in sooner or later without reading what I said, saying I don't know my left hand from my right. Jikook supporters do think they're dating and living together (I believe that's the shipper/supporter distinction, correct me if I'm wrong), but they're also NOT the same people who are passing their agenda off on others, especially those who are easy to influence, as FACT. They're also not the ones who dismiss people who don't think the same way.

I'm not dismissing the possibility of being wrong altogether. Maybe they'll come out one day and say they've been dating all this time since 2017 or whatever, and I'll have to gobble up my words with a single-tined fork for justice of Jkkrs everywhere. Good, I'll be happy for them, and I'll gladly eat my words.

And to add onto what you said, analyzing every single moment and every detail is... unhealthy. Which is what they love to do, but I don't think they realize that when they do that, they're effectively minimizing the interactions that matter way more. How does it minimize all the greater moments? Because by forcing a significance upon moments that don't matter, they're putting the better ones on the same playing field when they're not remotely equal. And when someone like me, for example, comes in and points out all the holes that don't add up, their reaction is the same as if I just targeted an event that was major for Jikook. Like I don't know, take a Xanax or something.

Sad to know that Tumblr used to be better for Jkkrs. I wish I was here sooner.

Thank you for your submission. Hopefully my answer gives you the exciting boost you were looking for LOL. Feel free to chime in anytime!

Also: if you're repeat anons and want to give yourself a fake nametag so I know who you are when you want to comment on anything, please do so I can welcome you happily into my space!

#TAJ asks #lovely jikook supporters

[bjy-on-ao3]

Reader is a noob sexually (and her body is sensitive), is a shy introvert, and is a bit petite. She and Adachi have become lovers recently. One evening after Adachi comes back from work he finds reader in his apartment horny and turned on. She begs him to relieve her. I'd love if it had dirty talk, degradation, some biting, and rough sex. Omg please please please

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

This checks off most of the boxes for the request if I understood it correctly. Also, I don’t really think Adachi would be the type to give someone a key to his place, but the alternative is ‘Reader is a bit yandere and picked the lock’ and I didn’t think that matched up with this well. Thank you for your patience, I know it’s been a while since this request was made! Summary Reader invites themselves into Adachi’s apartment while he’s away at work. Adachi punishes them for their shameless, though it might just be encouraging the bad behavior. Tags/Warnings Biting, Creampie, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, Misogyny, Name-Calling, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Sex

Mercy (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

“Ugh, what a crap day.”

Adachi approached the door to his apartment, feeling tired and bitter as ever. On one hand, he was happy to be off shift and not have to worry about behaving like the overly nice guy society demanded. On the other, he knew it wouldn’t last long.

His train of thought and speech screeched to a stop as he noticed a light shining from his apartment window. “Did I leave that on?” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. It wasn’t like him to forget something like that. He didn’t need to be paying extra for power he wasn’t using.

Torn from his thoughts, Adachi was on guard now, focused on the apartment. He decided he hadn’t left the light on, so who had? Had someone broken into his apartment? Out of all those they could have chosen, the home of a police detective seemed the poorest choice. Neighborhood hooligans causing trouble, maybe? He couldn’t be sure.

He crept to the door, finding it still locked. The befuddled look on his face deepened even further. Had it been him after all? Unless… He shook his head, finding his key and unlocking the door before pushing it open tentatively. He cast a wary glance around the kitchen the door opened into. No one. Not a soul to be seen, and nothing in the room looked awry. At least, not until his eyes swept over the sliding door adjoining the kitchen and his bedroom, which he noticed was barely ajar.

He moved toward the sliding door with a long, purposeful stride, though quietly. He slid open the door with a loud noise and a flourish. His eyes widened when he spied a figure sitting on his bed that popped up as the doors slammed open. He wiped the surprise from his face when he realized who it was that had made themselves so comfortable on his bed.

“Tohru, you’re home. Finally,” you greeted. You stood there, looking genuinely glad and relieved to see him, dressed only in a loose shirt and panties. Adachi was as perplexed as ever, abruptly remembering the key he had given you to his apartment. “I’ve been waiting for you,” you confessed happily, though something desperate lingered beneath the cheer.

“Waiting for me?” He asked. He reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, expecting to see a missed message or something stating your intent to come over and wait for him to arrive back from work. No missed calls, no unread messages. Nothing.

“I...I couldn’t stop thinking about last time.” Your voice was low, meek almost, as if it were embarrassing to admit, and you cast your eyes to the floor. Adachi said nothing, feeling as if you weren’t finished speaking, despite your hesitant tone. Not that Adachi wasn’t used to you being shy, especially admitting certain things. “It’s been driving me crazy,” you finished, looking him back in the eyes.

When  Adachi observed the noticeably wet spot in your panties, it hit him what you were alluding to. The confusion took a backseat to pride, and he couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh? Is that right?” He asked pressingly, willing you to go on.

You swallowed nervously, hesitating as if trying to pluck the right words from the air before you spoke. “Y-yes. Whenever I try to go about doing something else, the memory... just comes right back to me,” you explained. There was a neediness creeping into your tone. “I tried, um, taking care of stuff by myself, but…” you stopped, unsure how to continue. Stating it so plainly was a mortifying idea.

But Adachi wasn’t going to let you off easily. Especially when you had come over to his apartment just to wait for him because you needed him so badly. You were going to fess up one way or another what you wanted from him, even if he already knew from context.

“But what, baby?” His speech had some of the warmth you heard when he was in town, in public, but the cool and alluring tone beneath it belied a very different mood.

The fake warmth soothed you enough to confess more. “It’s...it’s not the same. It has to be you. It has to be your hands… has to be your cock.” The words coming out burned as hotly as you knew your face did. “I need you, please… Tohru,” you trailed off again, the words getting stuck in your throat.

Your heart pounded even faster in your chest. It had already been screaming, protesting your brazenness and warring with your desire. But you needed relief and only Adachi could give it to you. You recalled the saying about it being easier to ask forgiveness rather than permission, but now standing there feeling like your face was on fire, when there was no taking it back, you weren’t so sure. Adachi never had been the most forgiving person in the time you’d been together, after all. But he didn’t seem mad now. Perhaps that should have been more frightening.

“C’mon, keep going. I wanna hear more about what a needy little whore you are,” Adachi insisted. The mocking tone and degrading term was something you were familiar with from him. It excited you as much as it unsettled you.

You took in a steadying breath that rattled in your chest. Speaking lewdly so boldly was new to you. Hell, so much of what you’d learned from being with Adachi was new to you. “I… touch me, Tohru, please. F-fuck me, I need you so bad,” you finally said. It amazed you that you hadn’t spontaneously combusted by now.

Adachi, crooked smile inching wider, stepped further into his bedroom, closing the sliding doors with a shuffling sound and moving toward you. You made to meet him in the middle of the bedroom, but he brushed past you to stand by the bed, leaving you looking on in confusion. “Hmm, as hot as that is, I don’t think you’ve earned it,” Adachi concluded, turning to face you.

Protests sprang from your lips immediately, unthinking. “B-but, Tohru, please, I—”

“Shut your mouth, dumb cunt,” Adachi snapped venomously. You licked your lips anxiously and did as you were told. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. You come over late at night, uninvited, without a single word, and expect me to fuck you?” There was an indignant incredulousness in his tone, but something else just beneath. “I think you need to be taught a lesson,” he said. The previously surprised and then neutral gaze he had given you had turned narrow and cold.

“W-what do you mean?” You asked genuinely.

“Come here.” The command was short, providing no room for negotiation, but that didn’t stop you.

“Tohru, I just—”

“ Now , you stupid bitch,” Adachi snarled, his patience wearing thinner. You hastily made your way back to the bed until you stood beside him, watching keenly, a light tremor coursing through you. Of fear or excitement or both, you weren’t sure. “That’s better,” Adachi said, tone much less sharp.

He raised one hand to the curve of your hip, letting it lay there almost gently, and you sighed. His other hand lifted to your mouth where he absently pressed his thumb to your lips. You gave in to the pressure quickly, letting the digit slide past your lips and swiping your tongue over it, before sucking at it.

“Now, just how should I punish a selfish little whore?” He stroked over your enthusiastic tongue, pressing down hard and thrusting his thumb further back, making you nearly gag. “Ah, I think I’ve got it,” Adachi declared, a glee trickling into his voice. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and his touch abandoned you altogether, making you whine. “Get rid of those,” he demanded, prodding at your clothes.

“Yes, Tohru, anything,” you agreed, eagerly stripping and discarding them onto the floor in a heap. Your trembling was even more evident when you waited before him fully bare, though the chilly air of the room didn’t help.

“Now bend over,” Adachi commanded, with a nod of his head to his bed. “I want to see that tight little ass.”

You nodded dumbly, stepping around him and bending over the mattress, burying your hands in the sheets. You didn’t look back at first, trying to regain some control of your pulse and the shudders that wracked your body. Adachi pressed close behind you, and you squirmed ticklishly away from the hem of his blazer and tie as they trailed over your skin.

He lay one palm languidly on the swell of your ass, caressing reverently for a moment and enjoying the heat and softness of your skin. His other hand imitated it, before rolling over and clamping onto your hip opposite the first.

“How much did you touch yourself while you waited for me, huh?” Adachi asked casually, as if it were a simple, not absolutely embarrassing question to answer.

“I-well, I—” Your voice cracked and rang out in a surprised yelp when Adachi lifted the hand groping your ass away and brought it down harshly onto the sensitive skin. “S-so much! But it wasn’t—” Adachi’s heavy hand broke your speech again as he swatted your ass a second time, making both cheeks tingle and sting. “But it wasn’t enough! I need you . I had to come see you!” You cried out, voice shaking, the spankings only making more wetness pool between your legs.

“Yeah? And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me?” Adachi seemed most upset by your audacity. He raised his hand in another smack, sharper this time, the sound of skin-on-skin resounding in the bedroom and you shouted. “Guess I shouldn’t expect a whore like you to have the brains to think straight,” he degraded in a hiss, giving one cheek a harsh squeeze.

“I wanted to s-surprise you—aah, fuck!” You cursed when Adachi struck you again, the spankings coming quicker, giving you less time to recover.

“Is that so?” He sounded unconvinced.

“Yes, Tohru. Please, I just want you, I need you,” you begged. “I ca—” The next slap on your ass was the hardest yet, ripping a strangled sound from your throat. “I can’t cum without you!” You shouted, desire and pain straining your voice.

Yet giving Adachi what he wanted was as much of a bane as disobeying. It just made him more cocky, invigorating him to torment you and draw out even more lewd confessions. “Oh yeah? And what if I didn’t want to let you cum?”

The spankings paused as he spoke, as if he wanted to allow you the clarity to take them in. A particularly violent shiver rocked you at the obscenity of his words and the thought of being left with the burning need between your legs untended and ignored. “What if I just wanted to fuck your cute little mouth when I’m done here and send you home?: He threatened. He punctuated the sentence with another hard smack to your ass and you whimpered.

Tears burned in the corner of your eyes, frustration and pain and something vaguely pleasurably smoldering beneath both. Already your ass stung and throbbed, and you knew it would bruise luridly the next day. Beneath you, despite the brace of your arms supporting you, your thighs quaked, your knees threatening to buckle and dump you face first into the sheets.

“No, Tohru please, you have to—” you started, but Adachi cut you off again with another vicious spanking.

He grabbed a fistful of hair in the hand that had held your hip, jerking your head back and making you wince at the strain of the angle. His lips met your ear, and his words made the hair on the back of neck stand on end as yet another shiver seized you.

“I don’t have to do anything, slut.” he said nastily. “You’re my little toy and you’ll take what I give you and thank me when I’m done.” He stopped, and his grip loosened. “Maybe if I feel good enough, you can even cum.”

Adachi let his fingers slip from your hair, the hand on your stinging ass moving away, too, and he shifted closer. The cool fabric of his pants and even colder metal of his belt buckle against your burning skin was a relief, though you still squirmed from the sensation. Past the press of the fabric, you clearly felt how hard Adachi was despite his angry demeanor.

You didn’t realize he had been expecting you to respond until he seized your chest in his hands, tweaking both nipples cruelly and leaving a hard bite on the curve of your neck and shoulder, growling in your ear again. “Well? Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Tohru. I-I’ll take it all. Anything. Everything,” you agreed demurely, your voice shaking along with your body. All the cruel stimulation set you on edge, rattling your words even more than your nerves normally might. “F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured under your breath as Adachi continued to roughly toy with your breasts.

Adachi stood straight, his palms leaving your chest and retreating to your ass again, His fingers snaked down to your soaked lips, spreading them open and admiring the slickly glistening pink within. His eyes flickered for a second to the wet spot left on his slacks from where they had been pressed against your slick.

“Look at you. Dripping wet already and I’ve hardly touched your pussy,” he shamed. He was careful not to let his fingers slip further in, as much as he wanted to. “What a pathetic little whore,” he spat out, and you made a soft, desperate sound that only confirmed his words.

“You should be happy I don’t just leave you high and dry right now,” Adachi supplied, as if you ought to thank him for his mercy. But I’ve had a long day and I could use the relief. So consider yourself lucky.”

His touch abandoned you again altogether, and you heard the distinctive sound of his belt buckle clinking, coming undone, and the rustle of his slacks as he disposed of them. Adachi let himself indulge finally in the wetness pooled between your thighs, seeping down them. He slid two fingers easily between your lips, gathering the fluid there and making an appreciative noise as it glistened on his fingers. He raised his fingers to his lips, quickly cleaning them before pressing himself up against your ass.

You winced, the skin still stinging, but you couldn’t help but feel excited all the same at the touch of his hot, bare skin on yours. You cried out again when Adachi grabbed your sore cheeks in both hands, kneading savagely. He thrust himself between your pussy lips, but not inside, coating his cock with your essence. You gave a soft moan, a mixture of hurt and relief, and whimpered pitifully. His cock was so close to where you wanted him, yet with the mood he was in, you wondered if Adachi intended just to antagonize you.

One indecisive hand moved away and back to your chest, pinching a nipple so hard more tears sprang to your eyes and you let out a gasp. “Aaah, Tohru, that hurts,” you complained in a wavering voice strangled by tightness in your throat.

“Good. Maybe it’ll teach you something,” he said, a mean, husky undertone of excitement edging into his voice. “Next time you touch yourself, thinking about me, you tell me,” he warned, bucking his hips and sliding slickly through your lips again.

The tears broke, rolling over your cheeks, feeling cool in contrast to your burning face. “Yes, yes, I swear I will next time, Tohru. I swear,” you promised. Anything to end your punishment and persuade Adachi to bury himself in the needy place he was already so close to. But he wanted to be crystal clear you understood.

“You wait until you’ve got my permission before you come barging in here,” he started. “I’ll fuck your brains out when I want. You’re my shameless whore to use when I want to get off. Have I made myself clear, baby?” There was that gentle term of endearment, mixed in again with the mean names. And yet it felt the most biting of them all.

You nodded your head frantically in compliance, biting your lip and fighting back the sting and the desperate need assaulting your nerves. It wasn’t enough to satisfy Adachi though, and he prompted you to speak by once more by squeezing your ass and your chest sharply. You nearly yelled your answer, obeying the ache, “Yes! I-I’ll only come over when you want me.”

That seemed to be enough. “Good. Now that we’ve got that cleared up and you’ve got me all worked up…” Adachi stopped, pressing his cock more firmly against your dripping heat to emphasis the effect you had on him, “I think it’s time I fucked that needy cunt of yours.”

“Please…” you whined in a pitiful, breathy tone. Despite all the torment, the crude names and rough treatment, you craved him.

Adachi moved against you roughly, cock slipping through your folds again until the thick head pressed against your entrance. He didn’t bother taking his time or savoring the stretch, entering you, fast and rough, all at once. You groaned and shuddered again, the need burning higher the satisfying relief of feeling him hot and hard inside you. You whimpered his name, fisting the sheets tighter and arching back into him.

When he drew back, taking the wonderful fullness with him, you could have cried all over again, but you weren’t left wanting for long, and he slammed back home and filled you to the brim. The motion repeated, his hips rocking against yours carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, melding with obscene, wet noise from your cunt and the raspy, shaky moans pouring from your mouth. Adachi’s low groans and numerous swears under his breath  joined your voice as he pushed himself as far as he could go, relishing in the soft heat clenching around his cock.

“Shit, you’re so goddamn tight. Did you need my cock this bad?” He groaned, giving one ass cheek another light slap. It was enough to make you gasp and squirm again, but not nearly so hard as your punishment before.

Eventually his other hand joined its twin on your breasts, filling both palms greedily and toying with the nipples. He leaned down, pressing his clothed chest into your back so he could drive himself even harder into your cunt and bite harshly at your shoulders and neck. His growling, excited words were closer now, adding to the fire bubbling in your belly under your skin.

“Pathetic… needy… little… bitch.” His words were broken, interrupted by pants and the force of his hips each time he bucked into you. You moaned louder, your cunt clamping down even more around him at the humiliating words. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for? To be used like a worthless little cock sleeve?” He degraded, his pace slowing, but not the force behind it, his words coming out lower, clearer.

He didn’t need to spur you to answer this time, not with his hands kneading your chest and his cock filling you up over and over so deliciously, making the knot in your gut tense and heat.

“Aaah, y-yes! It’s amazing,” you breathed, voice wavering but thick with the arousal that made you feel near mindless. “You feel so, so good,” you continued, the praise catching in your throat as Adachi touched something inside you that felt especially good.

“Such a good little slut.” The depraved praise was just another catalyst for the fire in your abdomen that strung your body tight. But in it you could hear the way your body affected Adachi as well. A strain dawned in his voice, and his breathing became more ragged. “Tell me, baby, does a fuck toy like you deserve to cum?”

“O-only if you, fuck , want me to, Tohru,” you nearly purred, and Adachi stiffened even more within you at how unexpectedly easily you responded that time.

“That’s right,” he confirmed, picking up his pace, until each deep, hard thrust rocked ythe bed and the frame groaned in protest.

Your mouth fell open, each moan and whimper and gasp coming out full and unimpeded, raising in pitch each time Adachi’s hips pressed flush against yours and his balls slapped against the backs of your thighs.

“Shit. You sound so fucking hot.” The strain in Adachi’s voice was clear as a bell now, and you knew he was close, even distracted by your own pleasure. “I’m gonna fill up that shameless cunt of yours,” he promised bawdily.

“F-fuck, please, Tohru, I-I want your cum.” You surprised yourself with how filthy the words sounded as they fell past your lips, but your face and body could warm no further with embarrassment.

When his rhythm stuttered, Adachi reached one hand down from your breasts, fumbling but quickly finding your swollen clit and rubbing feverishly as his heavy, panting breaths fanned over the back of your neck. Already so overstimulated, it didn’t take long before the tantalizing stroke of Adachi’s fingers burst the coil of heat in your gut and sent you over the edge.

Your cries peaked so loud, you were sure the neighbors nearby could hear, but with the waves of molten pleasure webbing out from your core, you had no mind to care. No mind to be even more humiliated. Adachi’s fingers didn’t stop as you met your climax, and tears ran down your cheeks again; though you weren’t sure if they had ever really stopped. This time, it was from the touch of his fingers and stroke of his cock, quickly becoming overwhelming and almost unpleasant, despite the way your cunt contracted around him and the volume of your moans.

The eager, constant clench of your cunt around his length seemed to be the last push Adachi needed. A positively feral sound met your ears as Adachi stiffened against you, his cum filling you in thick, hot spurts that made you feel even more full. “Fuck, take it all, you dumb slut,” he growled, voice wild and husky as he pumped into you

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your voice quiet when compared to the sound of your moans.

At last, Adachi’s hips went still, and his fingers on your clit halted, pulling away and wiping the sticky slick coating them onto your thigh. You panted heavily, eyelids fluttering as you strove to keep them open, and you heard Adachi panting as well. There was a pause where neither of you said anything, bent only on the afterglow and regaining your breath.

“Well, what do you say?” Adachi asked expectantly. “C’mon, speak up. I’m sure even a dumb bitch like you can remember.” Though his words were cruel, his tone had mellowed, sounding more exhausted than harsh or demanding.

“T-thank you, Tohru. Thank you for fucking me… a-and for letting me cum,” you mumbled. Your face had cooled while you recovered, but with those words it was on fire all over again.

Satisfied, Adachi pulled out, and his cum leaked down your thighs in the absence of his cock. He stepped away, and you remained bent over his bed, until finally you thought yourself steady enough to stand straight. You turned to look for your clothes - including those you had discarded before Adachi had arrived back - but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Oh, don’t bother getting dressed, baby. You’re not going anywhere,” he informed you, giving you a light push so that you tumbled back onto his bed.

“B-but I thought— don’t you want me to leave?” you asked in confusion. More often than not, when Adachi was in that sort of mood, he wanted you gone afterwards.

“Not after your little stunt,” he said, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up, before taking off his tie and dress shirt, folding them surprisingly neatly in a stack. “You’re going to stay over and make it up to me again in the morning before work,” Adachi decided, coming back to the bed.

“You didn’t think just that was enough, did you?”

#writing #fanfiction #tohru adachi #persona 4 #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #weekly update #nsft #n/s/f/w #mind the tags #asks #not anon #requests #answers

[jilyandbambi]

Hey gang, so a couple of days ago @padawanlost brought up an old SW fic of mine that I’d only posted to my old blog, not my AO3 as it was only an off the cuff thing that I meant to turn into a full fledged multi-chapter, but bc I was working on so many projects at the time the fully realized idea I had never fully got off the ground. 

Anywho, there were some people in the replies to padawanlost’s post who asked me if I wouldn’t mind reposting it. So I did some digging and actually did manage to find my old Word docs. The person who I mention in the original Author’s Note user @/TheMooseJTM isn’t on Tumblr anymore, so unfortunately I can’t link to her old post, and I’m also not sure if suzukiblu is still on here or, in actuality, which post of theirs’ inspired Michi’s fic, which inspired mine. In any case, mine can be read as a standalone. Everything is under the cut. Feel free to reblog/let me know what you think in the comments, etc. 

Fair warning, I haven’t touched this thing since probably summer of 2016/2017 at the latest, so apologies for my older, less “polished” writing. 

Shout out to @celestialily and @alabasterswriting this is for you :)

The One Where Padmé Spills the Tea   Pt. 1

Inspired by this post by suzukiblu and this follow up ficlet by themooseJTHM. Also, Anakin being epileptic is in reference to this post. I didn’t come up with it. But I find it very fitting. I just want you both to know, this is all your fault. You two have no one to blame but yourselves. 

In which, I take things a little farther than Michi does bc what can I say I’m 95% angst, 5% bacon.  : ) : )))))))

Trigger warning for child abuse 

=================================

It all starts when an unusually grave Obi-Wan returns Artoo to her, charging port and all. Right off the bat Padmé can feel her intestines clench and constrict into hard stone as he explains that, as apart of an intensive spirit cleansing ordeal recommended by the Temple Healers, Anakin must relinquish all of his material attachments. Especially those that were given to him as gifts from outsiders. 

“But what will you do about his seizures?” she asks him. Trying her best to keep her voice even despite the frustration and worry bubbling up inside as she remembers the first time Anakin told her about them. Their wedding night, when he’d had one in front of her, and he hadn’t even been able to put a name to it. It was just a thing that happens to me every now and then when things get to be Too Much, Padmé. No need to get all fussy over me. 

And she’d hated it. Hated that he’d had such a poor grasp of proper mental health. Hated that he’d been conditioned by his upbringing to see his own well-being as tertiary if not altogether immaterial. But knowing that Anakin oftentimes had trouble distinguishing when people’s negative emotions were directed at him or for him, Padmé had tempered her righteous fury by giving him Artoo as a service droid. Just a friend, to watch over you for me when we’re apart, Ani. And he’d been delighted. Problem solved. 

But Obi-Wan’s brow furrows and his lips tighten into that patented Obi-Wan grimace that crops up on his face whenever he knows some new and dreadful information is about to be unloaded on him. 

“What seizures?” 

And the stone in Padmé’s gut grinds to dust, and she thinks it might have also been whatever remained of the restraint she’d been grasping at since this whole ordeal began. Because the next thing she knows, she’s hauling a panic-stricken What seizures, Padmé? What seizures?! Obi-Wan out the door and back to the Temple, demanding to see her Ani.  

His room still has a window, so she can’t call it a prison cell. But Mother of Mothers…

Everything is gone, everything. The room is completely barren save for the cot, the sheets, and the thin, shabby-looking carpet. Anakin’s workbench and all of the droid parts and little side projects he’d been working on had been taken away. Along with his single podracing poster that had been hanging on the far wall. 

Padmé has long been respectfully critical of the Jedi philosophy of no attachments, knowing that as an outsider, that there were aspects of their culture she could never understand. But this? This was just cruel. 

Anakin looks up when she enters, and oh the dullness in his eyes and the weary slump of his shoulders make him seem at least three times his twenty-two years. His entire body seems to sag with misery and resignation.  

He doesn’t get up to greet her, and he barely reacts at all when she sits down on the cot next to him. It’s been a week since she’s seen him last, thanks to the new restrictions the Jedi have put on their visits. Does he feel she has abandoned him? Stop it she mentally slaps herself. This isn’t about you! 

She reaches up to run her knuckles along the back of his neck, and he immediately jerks back and bats her fingers away. Then turns to look at her—really, look, as if seeing that it’s her for the first time—and is immediately remorseful.  

“Sorry,” he says. His eyes are painfully wide, weighted down with dark circles. Has he slept at all in the time since they’ve last seen each other? 

“Sorry…” he says again. “Sorry. I’m…I’ve been…remembering things.” 

“Don’t apologize,” she tells him, gently taking his hand in hers’. She starts to bring their joined hands into her lap, then reconsiders and places them on the cot in the space between them. Neither of them say anything for the longest time. And that’s just fine. She didn’t come here to talk, or to force him to talk. She came to make sure he was doing alright (and he’s not. Oh, he’s so far from alright. What is she going to do?). 

The silence stretches on and Padmé can do nothing but stare at the dreary grayscale walls of the room Anakin’s been trapped in. Is this what every Jedi’s room looks like? The younglings included? Do the infants in the crèche go to wake from nightmares with nothing but gray spackled walls to comfort them? Can the Jedi think of no way to breed order and conformity than to stamp out anything that could encourage creativity and color? 

Anakin clutches her hand suddenly, and she’s brought back to the present. He opens his mouth and pauses. Then clenches his jaw and tries again. She runs her thumb along the back of his hand, coaxing him through his distress. 

“Padmé,” he croaked. “Do you think maybe if I were a proper Jedi, if I had been able to adapt to the lifestyle from the get go—if-if I weren’t so needy, Sidious wouldn’t have been able to…?”

What was left of Padmé’s stomach plummets to her feet. “Ani…” she says slowly. “Is that what they’ve made you think?”

“No!” he says defensively. Retreating back into himself. “It’s just…the other day when the Healers recommended that the Council take Artoo and the rest of my things they said…” 

“What? What did they say?”

“They tell me Sidious was able to get to me because of how easily I latch onto people. How susceptible I am to attachments. That the reason I didn’t say anything to anyone about what was going on is because—“ 

“He took advantage of you,” Padmé said heatedly. Anakin recoiled, and she brought her hands up to cup both of his cheeks. Stroking her thumbs along them, so that he knows it’s not him she’s upset with. “He was an adult. He was in a position of authority. He manipulated you, Ani. That isn’t your fault.” 

“But—“ he gasped. His breath coming out harsh and heavy. His words choking on the edge of them. “but I-I should’ve…”

“Shhhh…” she whispers, drawing his forehead down to touch hers’. “You’re not to blame, Ani. You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it.” 

And he just looks so relieved, even as tears begin to leak from his eyes and a sob stifles in his throat. As if this is the first time anyone’s told him this explicitly in the month since the truth has come out. 

It lights a fire inside Padmé over the dust of her long-held restraint. 

And the next thing she knows she’s pulling Anakin up by his flesh arm, and dragging him out of his cell and through the winding halls of the Temple. Without any labels on any of the doors it’s either by pure luck or fury fuelled instinct that she finds the Council Chambers on the first try. Caution thrown completely to the wind, she bursts through them. 

“We’re married.” 

She tells the group of scandalized Masters, before they can even open their mouths to rebuke her lack of decorum. Scandal quickly morphs into shock. And surveying the varied looks of surprise and indignation on each of their normally stoic faces, Padmé feels dark satisfaction water the embers of her rage. 

Master Windu is the first to recover. 

“Excuse us?” he says tightly. 

“We’re married,” Padmé says again. Plainly and proudly. Code be damned. Careers be damned. Enough with the secrets and hiding. Enough. “For going on three years now. Since right after the war broke out. We’re married.”

Now that it’s out there, Padmé finds she can’t stop saying it. Mother goddess does it feel good to say those words out loud. She wants to shout them from the top of the tallest skyscraper on Coruscant. Rife with rebellious attitude, she turns behind her and smacks her lips against Anakin’s. And if the way he just melts into her doesn’t convince the Masters that she isn’t making this up, nothing will. 

“This is ridic—“ 

“Unbelievable!“

“How dare—“ 

“I’ll produce the marriage certificates tomorrow, if you like,” she says over the voices of the hysterical Council members. “But right now, I’m taking my husband home. Consider this his resignation. Good evening, Masters.” 

And with that she links her arm through Anakin’s, and and they walk briskly through the doors of the chamber, just in time to here Obi-Wan’s “Wait! Padmé, Anakin! You’re making a—” before the doors slam behind them. 

The reality of what’s just happened doesn’t hit her until they’re back in their apartment. Anakin’s left the Order. She just resigned him from the Order. Is she even allowed to do that? Did he want to leave the Order? Is he very angry with her? Is he going to leave her now and go crawling back to them? Oh, blessed Mother of Mothers curse her impulsivity, what did she just do?

“You were amazing!” Anakin shouted. She turned around to see a huge grin plastered across his face, and what a difference it makes. Gone is that hollowed out prisoner. He’s himself again, and he’s scooping her up in his arms, kissing her and spinning her around, saying over and over again. “You were amazing! You were amazing! You’re so” kiss “kriffing” kiss “amazing!” 

A long, deep kiss against her lips. He holds the back of her head, bringing her in deeper. Then pulls away, giggling now. Oh, she’s missed that laugh. She’s missed that smile. Oh, Anakin…

“I’m so lucky to have you,” he whispers, clutching her to his chest, and tangling his flesh hand in her curls. They stay like that for an eternity, swaying back and forth on his heels; her, several inches off the ground, buried in her husband’s arms, and him, nearly delirious with renewed hope, holding her tighter, tighter, tighter as if she’ll float away from him if he lets up. 

“What happens now?” he whispered in her ear. Softly, hesitatingly. As if daring this to somehow be only a dream. 

“Now,” Padmé grinned. “I’m going to pack a bag. You’re going to change out of this,” she fingered his ratty tunic and scowled at his too-small pants. “And the two of us are going to leave all of this behind, like we always talked about.” 

Anakin’s smile is so wide she’s afraid he’s going to pull a muscle. Instead he pulls her in for another deep, hungry kiss. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

He changes quickly so that he can help her pack. As is their routine, she pulls dresses and pants and tunics from their hangers and hands them to him to put away. He’s such an efficient packer. Somehow able to fit half her closet into one mid-sized suitcase without rumpling anything. He’s so careful with her things, taking special care to fold and arrange them perfectly. Treating them as lovingly as he does her. And he says he’s the lucky one. 

They’re just about done when Threepio comes in to tell them that Obi-Wan has arrived. Unnecessary, as he is right on Threepio’s heels. And just as quickly as it set in, Anakin’s good mood is snuffed out like a dying flame. 

“Anakin, Padmé, I—“ he stops himself when he catches sight of her open suitcase. 

“You’re leaving,” he says flatly. 

“Yes,” she answers, daring him to challenge them. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. 

“Please, just hold on a minute. Hear me out,” he says carefully. “Don’t do anything rash. Please.”

He looks to Anakin, who is uncharacteristically silent, sitting on the chaise lounge at the foot of her bed with his head bowed away from his master. Padmé steps in front of him. 

“We’ve already made up our minds, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says forcefully. Lie. She’s made Anakin’s mind up for him. But in her defense, he was all for it…

Right? 

I’m so lucky to have you! 

Right. 

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan scolds. Scolds, as if she were a simple child! “I’m surprised at you. You’re not usually so reckless. Please, just take a minute to think about this. Think about what’s best for Anakin.” 

“What’s best for Anakin,” Padmé seethed. “Being shut away in that room like some criminal? Being stripped of all of his personal possessions and any sort of stimulation? Being cut off from the only person who cares for him? Is that what’s—“

“You’re not the only person who cares for him!” Obi-Wan shouted. “You’ve got some nerve! We’re doing everything we can think of to help him through this! And then you just swoop in and—!” 

“Whatever you call yourselves doing it’s obviously not enough!” she exclaimed. “Obi-Wan he was miserable in that room. You had to have seen that! You have to know that being isolated like that would crush him! You know how much he needs other people!”

“That’s precisely what got him into this mess!” he cried. “He’s always just been so…attached! Palpatine saw that and was able to prey on him because of it. I know being cut off from everyone is difficult for him now, but he’ll come out of this a stronger, wiser Jedi. He’s a grown man, Padmé not an infant. He doesn’t need you coddling him!” 

As a general rule, Padmé hates violence. Especially when used to resolve an argument. But right now she wants to throttle every self-righteous bone in Obi-Wan’s body. 

“How can you say that?!” she screamed. “Palpatine preyed on him because he was lonely and traumatized! And then you go and make him worse!” 

“Oh so it’s my fault that that…disgusting maniac was buggering him for twelve years?!”

“Must you be so crass? I never said anything like that!” she bellowed, incensed. “But yes, while we’re at it? Where were you during those twelve years? What were you doing that you could be so willfully blind to what was being done to him?!”

“Willfully--?!” Obi-Wan spits out through clenched teeth. His face redder than a setting sun, and twice as huge. Like it’s going to just burst open from rage. She’s never seen him so furious. Good. Finally getting some genuine emotion out of Mr. Model Jedi. “Where were you? Now that we’re pointing fingers, where were YOU? He was married to you during three of those years? Clearly sharing more with you than he was with me, what were you doing that you missed something this huge?”

“How dare you imply that I--!“

“STOP IT! JUST STOP!!” 

They both turn to find Anakin hunched over and stricken. His hands clutching at his scalp. A high-pitched keening noise—like the garbled whirring of a broken droid—begins to sound from his mouth as he started to convulse. Oh no. 

“Ani…?” Padmé said softly, stepping closer to him. He didn’t look up. She deflated. All of the anger and bitterness and contempt flowing out of her at once. She didn’t have to look over at Obi-Wan to know the same was happening to him. 

“Anakin,” he said, getting down on his knees so as to be eye-level. “Anakin, shhh…Stay with us.” 

He reached up and began to tug at Anakin’s arms, trying to pull his hands from his hair. They didn’t budge. He pulled harder, yanking at them. 

“Anakin…Anakin let go.” 

“Stop,” Padmé comes down beside them, and gently pulls Obi-Wan away. “Leave him. It doesn’t last long.” 

“He’ll pull his hair out!” 

“His muscles and joints go stiff when he’s like this. If you pull on his arm too much like you were you could dislocate his shoulder.” 

Obi-Wan makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. “Padmé—“ 

“Stop!” Anakin croaked. His speech slurred and gravelly. “Please…” 

He brings his arms down, then. But his eyes remain bleary and unfocused. They both reach for him, but Padmé gets there first. She pulls him into her lap, bringing his head to rest against her chest and carding her fingers through his hair to soothe any scratches he might have left. 

“Shhh…” she soothes, as his breath hitches and he begins to tremble. “We’re sorry. We’ve stopped. We’re so, so sorry, Ani…” 

The room goes quiet and still as Anakin calms and his breathing returns to normal. Then, Obi-Wan asks

“Anakin, did Palpatine know about your seizures, too?”

She could slap that man. She could. She really, really could. 

A noise comes out of Anakin’s mouth that is halfway between a shriek and a sob. She shushes him again and rubs his back, glaring at Obi-Wan who glares back. 

“I’ve been…remembering things,” Anakin whispered. 

“Shhh…” she says again. “It’s alright. You don’t have to—“ 

“No, let him get this out,” says Obi-Wan. 

“H-he used to…when I was younger…afterwards, he’d have me sit on his lap,” he made another noise. “He’d lift up my tunic and rub my back…like Momma used to. Except he’d go lower...” 

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan said, dropping his head into his hands. Sounding as though he were going to retch. 

“Sorry!” Anakin whispered. “Sorry! I’m sorry! I should have…” 

“You did nothing wrong,” Padmé says vehemently in his ear. “Remember what I told you before, you did nothing wrong.” 

“She’s right, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, just as emphatic. Bracing a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

He waited for Anakin’s breathing to regulate. Then pulled him up from her arms. Anakin went to him like a marionette being repositioned. 

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan said. “I want to hear it from you. Do you want to leave the Order? Truly?”

For a moment, Anakin doesn’t answer. And Padmé gets the sinking feeling that she’s made a terrible lapse in judgment. But then he says

“I want to go with Padmé, Master,” with all of his trademark obstinance. But all the same, it’s a question, a request. As if he needed the other man’s permission. As if Obi-Wan would force him to stay against his will. 

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” he pleads.  

And Obi-Wan just looks so defeated, so desolate. Padmé can’t help but want to take back every single one of her earlier words. But before she can even begin to, he hangs his head, and leaves them with a quiet, “So be it.” 

Anakin falls limply back into her arms. They don’t leave for another two hours. 

==================================================

The Tea ‘Verse Pt. 2

(Palpatine is a nasty space hipster that wears ugly robes and plays chess) Trigger Warning for graphic abuse

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

Their first couple of days on Naboo are like something out of a dream. A second honeymoon, only better. 

Before, whenever they visited the Lake Country they’d been confined to the house and its surrounding lands for fear of being recognized and outed by locals. But now that they’ve revealed themselves there’s no more need for subtlety and sneaking. They can be as gooey and shameless and public as they want, without fear of reprisal. And they take full advantage of it. 

(It turns out, actually, that they had nothing to worry about all along, at least as far as the townies are concerned. The inhabitants of the Lake Country are far too consumed with their own day to day lives to care anything at all about the “vacationers” canoodling in the middle of the town square. Padmé and Anakin happily make a note of that.)

They cook breakfast together every morning, then take their food back up to bed and feed one another by hand off of a shared plate. She purposely drips syrup down Anakin’s chest so that she can lick it off. He doesn’t mind one bit. 

They waste an entire day making love. Languishing in tangled limbs and tender touches. Exploring and relearning one another’s bodies the way they always do after a lengthy separation. Finding new and creative ways to make each other ache and writhe in pleasure, until they are too sore to do anything more than listen to one another breathe, as the sun sets just outside their bedroom. 

They have dinner by candlelight—both at home, and at restaurants in town. The wait staff at one is so taken with the two of them and the way they feed each other bits of their dessert between kisses, they end up getting two more on the house. 

They picnic out in the fields, and watch the wild shaaks graze. And when Padmé teases him about that time he tried to ride one and ended up falling flat on his face, Anakin does it again, just to see her laugh. 

They pop popcorn and watch live coverage of the Pixelito Classic on Malastare, and she listens attentively as Anakin savagely rips apart every contestant’s podracer. (“I built a better racer than that at nine, what is Kolbron even DOING?” he rages. She chuckles, kisses him, and shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.)

They take her father’s old speederboat out on the largest lake in the region for a day. While she tans, he lies halfway over the edge of the deck and drags his arms along in the water, grinning and laughing like a little boy. And Padmé thinks that if she loves one singular thing about Anakin, it’s his wide-eyed wonderment at the simple things. 

Going to bed on a full stomach. 

Clothes that fit properly. 

Water. Fresh water. Unlimited fresh water. (“that you can just…drink and sail in and swim in, Padmé. Drown in, even. Anytime you want. It’s just there!”)

Her smile. 

And she wonders, for perhaps the millionth time, how anyone could ever want to break her Anakin, the way Sidious and the Jedi almost did. How anyone could see his passion and think it something that should be stripped away or perverted. 

Thinking about what they almost did to him makes her want to tear millennia old institutions down to the ground with her bare hands. 

Anakin catches her brooding, and against all her protesting scoops her up and tosses her into the water, tumbling in right after her. When they finally come back onboard, she’s missing her bikini. (She never sees it again.)

Later that night, as Anakin trails butterfly kisses down her belly, muttering nonsense words of praise and adoration between every nip and suck, Padmé finds herself feeling so very grateful to this provincial little corner of her homeworld for being so good to the love of her life. For helping him heal. For washing the gray from his skin. Lifting the hunch in his shoulders. Spilling light back into his eyes. For slowly bringing him back to himself. For proving to Padmé without a shadow of a doubt that she made the right choice in taking Anakin away from the Jedi and bringing him here to their sanctuary.  

He’s home. He’s safe. He’s loved. With her, as he should have been all this time.  

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

Honestly, now that he’s finally free, Anakin can’t fathom why it took him so long to leave. Or rather; why it took Padmé getting fed up on his behalf and literally dragging him out of the Temple for him to realize that that is what he should have done years ago. Thrown up his hands and stormed out. Kriff the Council and their scorn and distrust, Obi-Wan and his endless criticism, and three years of endless, pointless war. 

Kriff it all. Let the transistors fall where they may.

He endured them for entirely too long. Let them push him around for entirely too long. Let them take away all of his things—his posters and his droids and Artoo—when he already had so little to call his own, when they’d already forced him to relinquish so much. Let them lock him up like a rabid dog. Let them pick apart his mind like he would with a busted engine, trying to discern if there were parts of it that could be salvaged, or if it would be better to just scrap the whole thing and move on. 

That’s all he ever was to them, wasn’t he? A piece of machinery. Another droid they could program and push around and possess. That’s all he’d ever been to anyone. Even…

No. Don’t think about that. Your mind always ends up going to the wrong place when you think too hard about that. 

But… 

Shut up…

But—

Shut up shutupshutupshutupshutup—

You don’t know for sure. You never actually did get the chance to confront him. 

Shut up. 

Obi-Wan took that from you. 

He was defending me. 

Really? When has he ever done that?

Shut up. 

He was your friend. He was always there for you. How do you know—

Shut up.

 —that he was really out to hurt you? Obi-Wan’s been wrong about things like this before. 

Things like what? Obi-Wan’s never wrong. Shut up.  

He never did like the Chancellor. Maybe…

Shut up. He was right. I was wrong. I’m always wrong. Wrong and cocky and stupid and—

(“That couldn’t be farther from the truth, Anakin! I never want to hear you say anything like that about yourself ever again. Am I understood?” “Yes, sir…Thank you.”) 

See? Why would a person who wanted to hurt you treat you with such kindness?

That’s a stupid thing to ask. 

But did anything he did ever hurt? They keep saying he hurt you, but did it, actually?

Shut up. I remember. I remember…

What do you remember?

Hands…and touching…and—

Hands and touching. People touch each other with their hands. That’s normal. You were right. You so stupid. Why do the people in your life even bother with a socially illiterate imbecile like you? How can Padmé and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka even stand—

Shut up! Just shut up! 

Anakin rolled roughly over onto his side and stuffed his face into his pillow. Hoping to quiet the annoying voice in his head telling him that maybe this was all terrible a mistake. That maybe everyone had been exaggerating. Maybe…

“Ani…” Padmé’s sleep-thick voice called out from behind him. “Are you alright?”

Kriff. She’s awake now. She’s not going to let this go now that he’s woken her.

“Fine,” he mumbled into the pillow. 

She pressed into his side, stroking cool fingertips down the nape of his neck. That wasn’t fair. That was the opposite of fair. She knows what that does to him. 

“Ani…” she said again. 

He buried his face farther into the pillow. If he looked at her he would have to tell her everything, and she would look at him with That look. The only expression on her face that he could honestly say he detested. The one that was pitying and saddened and outraged all at once. The expression she always wore when he said or did something that was normal for him, but not Normal. When he reminded her of where he’d come from. Where she’d met him. 

But she was awake now. She was going to have it out of him one way or another. Best to just rip it off. Like a bandage. 

“Padmé,” he said slowly. Taking his head from the pillow and turning on his side so that they were now face to face. “What…what Sidious did to me. I…I know it was wrong. But why was it? I mean I know why, but why, you know? Why is it such a big deal?”

Why does it hurt me so much, when it didn’t actually hurt? Is what he doesn’t say. But he thinks Padmé gets it. He hopes so because he knows the words won’t make any sense if said aloud the way they do in his head 

And sure enough, there it is. Her drooping eyes pop all the way open and she’s staring at him—at him, but not at him. Now seeing cruelty and hardship and oppression instead of her husband. And she is so very sad for him, he can feel it swelling around her in the Force. She is heartbroken and furious with people who are long buried in his past. Her lips twist into a scowl that then quickly morphs into an even sadder smile when she remembers that she was scowling at him. Her mouth opens. Then closes with a disquieted hum. She’s silent for a moment, then says.

“Ani, do you think it might be good for you to talk to someone…else about these thoughts? A professional, I mean. To help you sort through it all?”

And Anakin—

(“Anakin, listen. The Council has decided you are to spend some time with the Temple healers after…this whole business with Palpatine.” 

“For how long, Master?”

“Until they clear you for active duty, I suppose.” 

New clothes, dark and coarse. Too loose and too tight. Then later a new room, bare and cold and alone. 

“It’s just to help you clear your head, Anakin. This isn’t a punishment; I swear to you.”  

Cold and bored and alone in the dark. No Artoo. Nothing to tinker with. No visitors. No Obi-Wan or Padmé or Ahsoka. Where are they? Why don’t they come? Why did Obi-Wan have to take everything away and leave him like this? 

“This is for your own good, Skywalker.” 

“It’s only to help you, Anakin.” 

“We’re doing what we can to undo the damage Sidious did. But Skywalker’s not cooperating.”

“As usual.” 

“Perhaps a more aggressive approach is necessary.”  

It’s just to help. It’s just to help. It’s just to help you, Anakin. The more you work with them, the easier this will be.)

—Anakin thinks, Palpatine never hurt me, the Jedi did. Except he says it out loud, and Padmé looks absolutely crushed. Fuck, fuck, fuck what was he thinking saying that out loud?! 

Before she can say anything else, he whispers 

“This is where I belong, Padmé,” into her neck, as her arms wind around him and she clutches him in a quivering embrace. “I’m happy here, with you. Finally, after so long. I’m finally happy. It was just a thought. Please…” 

Don’t send me away to another dark room. Don’t let anyone lock me up again. Please. Please…please. 

Padmé doesn’t say anything more, just continues to hold him tight and stroke his hair. And Anakin tells himself that that’s the end of it. That he’s safe now, with the only person who’s ever cared about him. He has nothing to worry about with being stuffed away in isolation while someone new tries to “help” him. Padmé’s not going to do that. She loves him. She’s the only person who does. 

He repeats that to himself again and again as he drifts off to sleep in her arms. 

And that night, for the first time since this whole thing began, Anakin dreams. 

He opens his eyes to find himself walking through a familiar hallway. Aides and staffers bustle around him, casting furtive glances his way, but upon realizing who he is return to their work. Some nodding at him in polite greeting. 

Eventually, he comes to a familiar door, and passes through it without a moment’s hesitation.  

Palpatine looks up from whatever it is he was working on as soon as Anakin enters his office, an eager smile stretching across his face. 

“Anakin,” he says as he stands up from his desk to come over and greet him. “It is so good to see you again, my boy.” 

“You as well, Chancellor,” Anakin says, bowing his head respectfully. 

“Come, come, sit down,” Palpatine says excitedly. Looping his arm around Anakin’s and leading him over to one of the couches in the sitting area of his office. Gently guiding him into one, and sitting down next to him. 

“So…” he says, that eager smile on his face getting wider and wider. “What brings you by today, Anakin?”

Anakin faltered. 

“I… I, uh…”

What was wrong with him? Why had he shown up at the Senate building today? He couldn’t remember… 

“Did you have something to discuss with me, dear one?” Palpatine prodded. “Is everything alright between you and Obi-Wan? Do you have some concerns about the last mission you went on that you’d like to share with me?”

“I…” 

Did he have something to share with him? He did. Of course he did. There had to have been an important reason for coming here. He wasn’t so arrogant to think he could just show up at the Chancellor’s office for no reason at all. 

“You seem troubled, Anakin,” Palpatine said. Smile gone. Lips pulled down into a thin frown. “Are you certain nothing’s the matter? There’s nothing going on that I should know about?”

Anakin shook his head, trying to clear his mind. What was going on with him? He thought he had been bad off before, but this was on a whole new level. He was seriously losing it. 

“No. No, I…I just…” 

“Are you sure?” Palpatine said. Mouth twisting into another fond smile. He gave him a knowing look. “Trouble in paradise, perhaps, between you and Senator Amidala?”

Anakin’s head shot up. 

“H-how…How did you…?”

No one knew about him and Padmé. They’d been so very careful. How could this be?

“Are things a bit…awkward between the two of you right now? What with all of those awful things they’ve been saying about me in the HoloNet?” 

Anakin froze. The blood in his veins turned to hard, steely ice. He turned to look at the Chancellor. He stared back. An expectant gleam flashing in his gold-rimmed eyes. He smirked. Anakin’s gut rose up into his throat.  

“This isn’t a dream,” he whispered vacantly. The horrifying realization slowly creeping up on him. “This is really happening.”

Palpatine’s grin widened, and his cold, weathered hand came to rest against the back of Anakin’s neck, attempting to comfort him with gentle, placating strokes. Anakin stiffened. Palpatine’s touch stilled, and his fingers wrapped around the base of his neck. He felt a faint tingling sensation shoot down his spine, and slumped against the couch cushions. 

“What do you want?” he said in a strained voice. 

Palpatine chuckled fondly. “I think, Anakin, the question is, what do you want? We are in your head, after all.”

“You’re in my head,” Anakin said, his voice shaking with anger and barely suppressed fear. “You’re using some kind of Sith magic on me!” 

The Chancellor laughed again. This time with far less mirth. 

“Anakin, not even I am powerful enough to invade another being’s mind like this. Especially not now that my true identity has been revealed and the Jedi have pushed back my influence. Me being able to enter your mind means that you have to have given me permission, young one. You must have called me here for some reason. What could it be, I wonder.” 

Anakin took a minute to stew on that. What he was saying did make some sense…maybe. Obviously, he wasn’t well versed in what was and what wasn’t within the realm of a Sith’s capability. But with Sidious’ true identity revealed didn’t that mean that the shroud of the Dark Side that had been clouding the Force for so long was finally lifted? It had to, didn’t it? Obi-Wan and the Jedi have finally triumphed. They had to have. 

(Maybe he would know this for sure if someone had bothered to update him on what was going on during all that time he spent in isolation.) 

He turned back over to Palpatine and, with more bravery than he felt at the moment, stared his (former?) mentor straight in his eyes. 

“You’re a Sith Lord.” 

“Yes.” 

Anakin swallowed thickly, looking back down at his lap. 

He knew how he should be reacting to this. He should feel outraged. Violated. His entire being should be responding to the alarm bells sounding off all around him in the Force. He should be doing his damnedest to wake himself up. To fight back. To alert Obi-Wan and the Council that—even if Palpatine had been driven to whatever far corner of the galaxy he was contacting him from—he was still a powerful enough presence to manifest himself in another’s dreams. He should pull himself up, throw off Palpatine’s hand and get himself out of this “office” as fast as he can. 

And yet, Anakin finds himself planted right where he is. Paralyzed by the only thought currently running through his head. 

“All this time,” he choked. His heart hammering away furiously in his chest. “All this time. You’ve been using me. You never cared about m—“ 

“That’s not true, Anakin!” Palpatine cut him off, raising his voice ever so slightly in reprimand. Anakin flinched and ducked his head. Palpatine resumed his stroking. 

“If you believe nothing else,” he began softly. “Believe that all of our interactions over the years have been genuine on my part. You have always been very special to me, dear one.” 

Anakin shook his head, doing his best to shake off Palpatine’s hand. It tightened again, and another twinge shot through him. He relaxed. 

“You just wanted to use me,” he whispered. “This whole time, you were—“ 

“Trying to guide you,” Palpatine said forcefully. “That’s all, Anakin. Just trying to offer you the guidance and affection I knew you craved. You were so lonely during those first few years after you came to Coruscant. Don’t you remember?”

Anakin drew in a shaky breath. And without letting that one out, took another. Yes, he remembered. Of course he remembered those early years in his training. Before he learned that Obi-Wan’s aloofness was his own way of showing he ‘cared’. Before he had completely given up on making friends with the other padawans in his class. Before he had resigned himself to never earning the Council’s acceptance. He had been so utterly alone back then. And who had been there for him during all of that? 

He nodded. 

Then, remembering who—what—he was talking to, he shook his head again. 

“You were trying to turn me…” he whispered harshly. Furious that he needed to remind himself of this. “You wanted me to be your apprentice.” 

“I still do,” Palpatine said plainly. “Were you to wish it, were you to embrace my teachings, Anakin, you could be the most powerful Sith in millennia. I have foreseen it. I have always foreseen great things for you. In spite of your confounding insistence on wallowing in mediocrity.”  

“You’re everything I’ve spent my life fighting against,” Anakin gritted out between clenched teeth. “I will never join you.” 

“No, I suppose not now,” Palpatine sighed regretfully. “But nevertheless, Anakin. I still consider myself your friend. You called me to you for a reason. I’m here to help you. Whatever it is.” 

His hand drifted slowly down Anakin’s neck and spine in slow, soothing circles until it stopped at the small of his back. It reached around his waist, urging him closer to his side. 

Blood pounded in Anakin’s ears. The rhythm beating in time to the Force’s warning. Saliva, stale and sickly sweet pooled in the back of his throat. He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed until his mouth went dry. 

“You’re lying,” he said. “I wouldn’t have called you here. I don’t want to see you. Not after what you—not after…After—oh you know!”

Palpatine hooked a finger under his chin, tilting his head so that Anakin was now facing him directly. 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, Anakin.” 

“What you did,” he fumbled. For some reason unable to even think the words, much less voice them aloud.  

“What did I do?” 

“You…” Anakin croaked over the lump in this throat. “…Hurt me.” 

“Did I?” Palpatine frowned in genuine confusion. “When?”  

Anakin breathed a long, ragged breath. When? When? 

Yes, when. When did it all start? He thought back through all the old memories that had been cropping up recently. After Obi-Wan had sat him down and explained to him that what had been happening during his and Palpatine’s meetings all these years had been wrong, he’d thought back over everything. Every touch. Every hug. Every pat on the head or the cheek or the back. Which one was the bad one? Which one had made him feel dirty? Used? Manipulated? He couldn’t tell now. Palpatine was looking down on him, expectant, and just a little bit hurt, and Anakin found that he honestly couldn’t say for himself when the Chancellor’s touches had begun to bother him. 

If they ever did. 

They did, didn’t they? 

Because what he was doing was wrong. 

Right?

“I-I’ve been…remembering things?” he said, closing his eyes and turning away from the Chancellor. 

“Really?” Palpatine said. Bringing his head back up with an insistent jerk. “Such as?”

Anakin shifted his eyes to the floor—tried to, but Palpatine’s glare was firmly holding him in place. He couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

“Things.” 

“Like?”

He shuddered. His whole body began to tremble, much to his embarrassment. Palpatine brought his hand from Anakin’s side, and cupped both of his cheeks in his own. They were cold and clammy against Anakin’s hot skin. He sank into them before he could stop himself. 

“It’s alright, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “I understand this is difficult for you. But you’ve always been able to talk to me, and I’ve always been able to set you right. Don’t shut me out now, when you’re clearly in so much turmoil.” 

“Y-you…touched me,” Anakin mumbled. His eyes stung and he shut them again. Willing the water building up beneath his lower lid to stay where it was. 

“Yes,” Palpatine said, running his thumbs along Anakin’s cheeks. “Just as I am now. Does this hurt you, Anakin? Do you want me to stop?”

Anakin thought about that. Did he? He should. He feels like if Obi-Wan or Padmé saw this happening they would tell him he should. But why? It wasn’t hurting him. It made him feel���the opposite…

“No,” he whispered, with a slow shake of his head. 

“Has anything I’ve done ever made you feel unsafe?”

Again, Anakin shook his head. “No.” 

“I see. Then, do you want to know what I think, Anakin?” Palpatine asked softly.

“Yes…”

“I think—and mind you this is just my own personal observation based on what I know of you and your Master. But I think the only reason you feel this way about our relationship now is because Obi-Wan and the Council told you you ought.” 

Anakin’s eyes snapped open. No…No! That wasn’t…right. Right? Right. Obi-Wan was his Master. His teacher. His friend. He was always right. He would never lead Anakin astray. Anakin opened his mouth, ready to jump to Obi-Wan’s defense. 

The Chancellor hushed him before he could even make a sound. 

“Just hear me out,” he implored. “I’m not saying they did this maliciously. Far from it. You’re Obi-Wan’s former padawan, Anakin. He would never do anything to deliberately cause you pain. But think about it, how often has he shown you any sort of physical affection over the years? How often are any of the Jedi ever affectionate with one another? Not very, am I right?”

“…yes,” Anakin said reluctantly. This was true. It was one of the biggest culture shocks of coming to the Temple. He had been so used to hugs and kisses before bed or before departing for the day’s work or just because. There had been none of that with Obi-Wan. Especially not in the beginning, when they were still so new to each other. It was one of the reasons why his meetings with Palpatine had meant so much to him…

“So perhaps, then,” Palpatine said quietly. “It’s all just a horrible misunderstanding on their part.” 

He dropped his hands from Anakin’s face, and reached into his lap to take his hand. Giving it a prompting squeeze. 

“You know that Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi just don’t understand things like this. They view any kind of affection as dangerous and corrupting. Of course they wouldn’t understand how we are when we’re together. They’ve never understood you and what you need.” 

He drew tiny circles over the back of Anakin’s hand. And a familiar coldness spread through Anakin’s gut.  

“They’ve never even tried,” he muttered angrily. 

“No,” Palpatine agreed. “But I have, Anakin.” 

Anakin nodded.

“You’ve always been there for me,” he whispered. Waves of shame and guilt coursing over him with each swirl of Palpatine’s thumb against his hand. He tried to look away, but Palpatine’s glare burned. His hand tightened. Anakin felt another spasm shoot through his bones. 

“I have,” Palpatine said quietly, his voice taking on a pained edge. “Which is why I can’t understand why you’d let them say all of those horrible things about me in the media, Anakin. Do you have any idea how devastating this has all been for me? How mortifying?”

Anakin’s throat hitched. His cheeks burned.  

“I-I’m sorry, Chancellor,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. Everything just went so fast after Obi-Wan and I switched back. He came to get me and brought me before the healers, and I—“ 

“Shhh,” Palpatine hushed him with a finger to his lips. “That’s enough, dear one. Of course I don’t blame you for all of it. This isn’t completely your fault. I know how the Jedi can be with you. I bet they didn’t wait a single second to hear your side of the story, did they?” 

Anakin shook his head mutinously. “They locked me up,” he said. “For weeks.” 

“Surely Obi-Wan couldn’t have agreed to that.”

“He did!” Anakin said, voice rising as familiar pangs of betrayal hit him as he recalled being packed off into that room to ‘heal.’ “He said it was for my own good.” 

Palpatine tutted disdainfully, as he continued to stroke Anakin’s hand. “There’s more, isn’t there? I can see it in your eyes, Anakin. There’s more you want to tell me.”

Anakin hesitated. He knows he shouldn’t. Again, he remembers what he’s talking to. And he knows, alright? He knows how dangerous it is to put his trust in a Sith Lord. Knows what fate awaits him should he let himself sink too deep. But this isn’t just a Sith Lord. This was Palpatine. His friend. His confidant. He could tell him anything. Had always been able to share anything and everything with him. And he had forgotten over these past few weeks how much he missed the Chancellor’s open ear and paternal wisdom. Forgotten how good it felt to come to him and just get it all out, without fear of judgment or reproach. 

“They took away all my droid parts. And Artoo, too. And they locked me up like a prisoner. No one ever came to see me, to update me on what was going on or to tell me when it would all be over. Not even Obi-Wan. They even tried to keep Padmé away!” 

Palpatine mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, ‘those fools. Those insipid, unbelievable fools.’ Then let go of Anakin’s hand to spread out his arms welcomingly. 

“Tell me all about it, Anakin,” he says, pleadingly. “I can see there’s still so much you need to get off your chest. I know they’ve made you doubt me. I know they’ve tried to turn you against me. But you know who I am. And you know that your thoughts and worries are always safe with me. Let them go, my boy. It’s alright. It’s all going to be alright now.” 

Anakin looks at this man, his mentor, whom he has known and trusted and confided in for more than half his life. And now knowing who he is and what he has always wanted from him, tries to find some hint of malice. Some trace of deceit or cunning. Any small seed of treachery. 

He finds nothing. Except Palpatine. His friend who has always wanted nothing more than to guide him, to give him the esteem and the security he has never gotten from the Jedi. 

If Palpatine has always been the one to make him feel accepted and cared for, when he was supposedly evil, and the the Jedi have always made him feel alone and unwanted, when they were on the side of good, then…

No, he can’t think like that. He can’t allow himself to…

But still…

Was it so bad? Was it really all that bad? 

Palpatine, seeing the reluctance and yearning warring in Anakin’s eyes, spreads his arms wider, reaching for him ever so slightly. That same old welcoming smile spread across his face. 

“Come to me, dear one,” he croons. 

Anakin goes. 

Well 

After ignoring the outside world for a solid week, it was high time Padmé got back down to business. There are messages she needs to return. Meetings to reschedule. Bills to review. And new speeches to write, as she has yet to personally address the news of her relationship since its reveal.

She had made sure to have her publicist leak the story of her and Anakin’s secret marriage to the press the night they left Coruscant, in order to beat the Jedi to the punch. And upon checking the Holonet the next day she had been pleased to find public’s reaction was even better than she’d anticipated. 

By the time she and Anakin had reached the Lake Country, every tabloid, gossip rag, and talk show in the Republic was abuzz with talk of the forbidden love affair between The Hero With No Fear and the beloved Queen turned Senator of Naboo. As Padmé hoped would happen, the general public was so enamored with the melodrama of her and Anakin’s torrid romance, the scandal of a Jedi being romantically involved with a senator was less than an afterthought to them. Neither had anyone made the connection between Anakin and “Minor A,” the Chancellor’s unnamed victim in the Senate Sexual Abuse Scandal. 

But there were still people she had to answer to. 

The Queen and her advisors had not been pleased at the news of one of Naboo’s most respected politicians engaging in such unseemly behavior. But given Padmé’s previously spotless record, and that her approval ratings were higher than they’d ever been, what with the public’s obsession with her relationship, she’d been allowed to keep her seat in the senate. Though she knew that she would have to work hard going forward to regain the monarchy’s full confidence.   

And then there was her family.

Sola and their mother, especially, were understandably incensed that it had taken three years for them to learn of Padmé’s marriage, even more so that they had had to find out through the HoloNet instead of from her directly. Her father, for his part, hadn’t said a word while his wife and daughter ranted for a full forty-five minutes. But the look of abject heartache on his face hurt Padmé more than her mother and sister’s tearful raging. 

She’d borne all of their resentment meekly and penitently. Knowing that there was nothing she could say in her defense. She has been selfish all these years, keeping Anakin a secret from them for her own convenience, and she wasn’t going to disrespect her family more than she already had by trying to reconcile her selfishness to their betrayed faces. 

But when they demanded that she bring Anakin home to them, and introduce him as Anakin her husband, not Anakin her bodyguard, Padmé had refused point blank. And no amount of cajoling or pleading or guilt-tripping on any of their parts could make her change her mind. 

When asked, bitingly, why she would deny them this one small request, after putting them through so much, Padmé had cringed, reigned in the tears and exasperation threatening to spill out of her, and told them that she and Anakin were keeping a low profile for right now so as to avoid the paparazzi, until they were ready to give interviews. 

Lie. 

Like the general public, Padmé’s family doesn’t know the real reason behind Anakin’s resignation from the Order, and she intends to keep it that way. It’s his secret to reveal. But if they don’t know, she can’t tell them about how moody and skittish he’s been lately. About how he stares off into space for hours on end. About how his seizures have started becoming more frequent. About how at night he wakes them both, shaking and screaming from night terrors, with no memory of what they’d been about once she gets him calmed down again. 

About how he was backsliding, in spite of all the progress he’d made during their first week here. And that he wouldn’t talk to her about any of what was going on in his head so that she could help. 

Padmé knows there’s no way she can reintroduce him to her parents while he’s like this. She—

“Miss Padmé,” C3P0 called, interrupting her thoughts as he came into the study. “Miss Padmé, I’m so sorry to interrupt your work, but I’ve made lunch. Shall I fetch Master Ani?”

“No, that’s alright Threepio,” she smiled at the droid. “Thank you, but I’ll go get him myself. We’ll be down in a minute.” 

“Yes, of course, Miss,” chimes Threepio, and with a slight bow, heads back to the kitchen. Padmé follows him through the door. 

She hasn’t checked on Anakin all morning, but finds him in the first place she looks, their bedroom. 

Surrounded by… sheets of flimsi?

They’re scattered all over the floor; from the foot of the bed to the dresser, from the doorway of the ‘fresher heading out the opposite way to the entrance to the balcony, from the closet coming up to the hallway. Many of the pages were blank, save for a few illegible scribbles. More were filled with strange drawings of irregular shapes with words and equations written next to them. There were run down pencils abandoned all over the floor, and erasers chased down to ragged nubs. In the middle of this mess sat Anakin. One page held in his hand. His head lolled forward, his chin was touching his sternum. A low murmuring whine squeaking out from between pursed lips. 

Artoo was at his side, dutifully monitoring his vitals. He beeped in greeting as Padmé came further into the room. 

“How long has he been like this,” she asked him. 

Three minutes, seventeen seconds he told her. 

Longer than normal. Padmé bit her lip and went into the ‘fresher to wet a washcloth under some the cold tap, then came back out to sit on Anakin’s other side, and began dabbing at his forehead with the cloth, as she and Artoo waited for him to regain full consciousness. 

It’s another five long seconds before he comes back to them, collapsing into Padmé’s arms with a loud groan. 

“You’re alright, Ani,” she soothed. Shifting him so that his head was pillowed in her lap, and laying the cloth across his forehead. 

“P’dmé,” he mumbled groggily. “’rtoo?” 

Artoo beeped in affirmation. 

“We’re right here,” Padmé assured him. Bringing his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “We’re right here.” 

The three of them sit in silence for a long moment. Before Padmé remembers all of the flimsi laying around them. 

“Ani what is all this,” she asked him, taking the page he was holding from his hand to get a better look at it. 

Her jaw practically unhinges once her eyes register what she’s actually looking at. 

“I was…bored,” Anakin said weakly.  

And Padmé, she just has to laugh, because Mother of Mothers is he really going to write it off as just that? 

“Ani—this…this is…” 

A blueprint. A full-scale, impeccably detailed blueprint for what appears to be an original concept design for a starfighter. He did this. In the span of one morning. Because he was bored?

“Ani this is incredible,” Padmé breathes once she finds her voice again. “You just did this on the spot?”

“It took me a few times to get it right,” he shrugged. Weakly gesturing at all the flimsi around them. “I wanted to build something, but I don’t have my tools anymore.”

Her heart hurts for him. Faintly, because she’s still so caught up in her amazement.

“So you designed a starfighter.”

“Yeah…” 

So nonchalant. Like this was normal. A thing everyone just up and did whenever they got sick of returning messages and filling out paperwork. 

“Ani this looks—please, don’t take this badly—but this looks like it could actually fly.” 

“In theory,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure if my math is right, but it’s based off of the Actis-class. With a few tweaks.” 

He brought up a finger to point at the different areas on the ship’s model. 

“I added room for a built-in hyperdrive, and stronger laser cannons,” he explained. “Thicker wings to accommodate a full sized astromech. And better shielding.”

Padmé is right back to being rendered speechless. There’s so much she wants to say to this. She wants to tell him to sell his design to Kuat Systems Engineering. Then she thinks that he should keep it to himself and start his own ship-designing firm. She wants to tell him to enroll in university and pursue a business degree so that he can start his own ship-designing firm. Then she remembers that he has had far less and far different formal schooling than most university students, and wonders if that might be a setback. Mostly she just wants to kiss him all over, and tell him how amazingly talented he is and how proud she is to be married to someone so gifted. 

But first, she smirks and says

“Is this what you’ll do from now on? Spend your days drawing starships?”

He frowned. Clearly not getting that she wasn’t putting his work down, but asking a semi-serious question. She does quick damage control before things get out of hand. 

“You could, you know,” she said lightly. “You could take some classes, hone your skills a little more. Submit your sketches to a firm, and maybe they’d hire you on to oversee the projects.” 

Anakin pulled himself up from her lap, and spun around to face her. 

“Do you really think that could happen,” he asked. His jaw clenched doubtfully, but his eyes shining and hopeful. “I mean do you really think that I could really…do that…ever?”

Padmé smiled, pulling him down in for a kiss. 

“You’re free, Ani,” she promises against his lips. “You can do anything you like.” 

Anakin pulls away suddenly. His face a puzzle of wonderment, as though he’s watching an entire galaxy form right before his eyes. It takes Padmé a second to get it. But when she does she finds herself looking not at a galaxy, but a road. 

Winding and expansive, full of forks and curves and hills and pitfalls, making up endless paths and possibilities. All of which were, until very recently, cruelly held out of Anakin’s reach. But no more. For the first time in his life, Anakin has no master prodding him along, demanding that he follow whatever path they set out for him. Those chains called Destiny and Prophecy that for so long have shackled him to them have all been cut loose. At last, Anakin is free to go his own way. 

Having finally gained some perspective, Padmé realizes suddenly that she’s been indefensibly remiss in not doing more to help him explore the many options now available to him. 

She resolves to remedy that, immediately. 

  This is an old game from a very ancient and long-dead world. It’s boring, and Anakin’s terrible at it. And yet still, every once and a while, Palpatine will insist they play a round or two. 

I so seldom have any company to play with, Anakin, he would say. I know this isn’t a game you enjoy, but please, indulge an old man, won’t you?

And Anakin will roll his eyes and groan good-naturedly as Palpatine pulls out the faded black and white checkered board, lines up all the strange looking pieces, and makes the first move. 

It didn’t seem fair, though, that if they were in his head, and he was the one calling Palpatine here, that he should still have to endure this. Couldn’t they do this in a workshop? He chuckled inwardly at the thought of the Chancellor with his sleeves rolled up, fiddling around with nails and bolts. 

“Something funny, Anakin,” Palpatine mumbled absently, not looking up from the board. 

“No, nothing,” Anakin lied. “I was just thinking.” 

“About…?”

“Nothing.” 

Palpatine sighed, in that disappointed way that he knows Anakin hates, and looks up from the board. 

“Anakin,” he scolded. Crossing his arms and raising a chiding brow. “Remember what we talked about.” 

Anakin flinched, and folded under the weight of the Chancellor’s heavy glare. 

“I did a sketch of a starfighter the other day,” he said quietly. “Padmé really liked it. She thinks I should go to school to become an engineer.” 

“Really,” Palpatine said. For once sounding genuinely surprised. He leaned back in his seat. “And what do you think about that?”

Anakin shrugged. “I think it could be fun, I guess. It’s certainly never anything I considered before.” 

Palpatine “hmmed” thoughtfully, turning his attention back to the board. 

“What?” Anakin said. Suddenly feeling very anxious. 

“Nothing,” said Palpatine. “Just considering my next move.” 

He moved one of the little pieces that looked like a tower one space to the left. Then looked back up at Anakin.  

“Forgive me for speaking candidly, Anakin,” he said. “But I can’t imagine you’ve ever given much thought to a future outside of the Order.”

Anakin dipped his head, staring fixedly at the board. “Not really…” 

All those years ago, when Master Qui-Gon came to Tatooine, the choice he had presented Anakin with were either become a Jedi, or stay a slave forever. Obviously, he’d chosen the former. But that had been it, as far as career exploration was concerned. From the day he became Obi-Wan’s padawan, he’d devoted himself entirely to being the best Jedi he could possibly be. And while yes, at times he’d considered leaving the Order—especially after his marriage to Padmé, his fantasy of chucking his lightsaber at Master Yoda’s head and storming out had always stopped there. It’s probably why he didn’t have the strength to leave on his own after the scandal had broken. No matter how chafed he felt by the Order, realistically, Anakin could never envision himself doing anything else. 

Only now that he’s actually done the impossible and left the Jedi, was he starting to see that maybe there were other things out there for him. 

The Chancellor tutted softly, and then stood and came over to Anakin’s side of the table, sitting down beside him. 

“Well at your age there’s certainly nothing wrong with considering a change in career path,” he said judiciously. “Even one as drastic as this.” 

Anakin nodded. 

“Of course,” he went on. “You’ll want to keep in mind that the world of academics is an entirely different setting than what you’re accustomed to. Not to impugn your intelligence, dear boy, but let us be frank, your formal education was uneven at best. The students at the schools Padmé no doubt has in mind for you have spent their entire academic careers being educated at the galaxy’s most elite institutions. And you, well…” 

“Haven’t,” Anakin said bluntly. Remembering the trouble he used to have keeping up in lessons at the Temple. The instructors had put him in remedial classes when he first arrived because of how far behind he was. In the beginning, he did try his best to catch up to his peers, but it didn’t help that he was always being taken out of classes to go on missions with Obi-Wan. Although the workload did eventually get easier for him, by that point he had already given up on catching up with the more advanced students in his class. It had become enough for him to just get by. He’d learned to read and write and do advanced arithmetic, which was much farther than his mother or any of his friends back home had ever gotten. Farther than he ever thought he would get. For him, that was something to be proud of. And besides, even as a padawan he was a better pilot than most knights, and he could build and fix just about anything. Who cared if his marks were just average when everything that actually mattered came naturally to him?

But he isn’t a Jedi anymore. He has to find a job in the outside world now. What if whatever meager amount of knowledge his instructors had been able to beat into his belligerent adolescent brain wasn’t enough? His place had never been in the classroom, true. But he’d have to be trained in something if he wanted to build a life for himself outside of the Temple, right? 

“Maybe I could, I don’t know…” 

“A career in engineering requires years of intensive study. Not to mention, a strong background in mathematics and the sciences, which I’m sorry, Anakin, but that you just don’t have. You’ve never exactly been the studious type.” 

Anakin nodded, eyes downcast. The Chancellor was right. Raw talent aside, he couldn’t just jump right into a fancy university program and expect to be able to hold his own against the galaxy’s best and brightest when he’d been an average student at best. He needed to think of something realistic, not let himself get carried away by idiotic fantasies. 

“It was just an idea, anyway,” he mumbled. 

Palpatine laid a hand on his thigh, and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“I don’t mean to discourage your desire to explore new paths, dear one,” he said softly. “I know you need to search for something more, now that you’ve left the Order.” 

“I just…,” Anakin whispered. “There’s so many different things I can do now that I’m not a Jedi anymore. Things I never even considered doing.”

“You’re worried about not taking all your options into account.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well,” Palpatine said, patting the inside of Anakin’s thigh. “Let’s do this then. Let’s say you have the power to do anything you wanted to do, right now. No certifications or justifications required. What would it be?”

Anakin thought about it for a moment. 

“Explore every planet in the galaxy.” 

He looked at Palpatine to gauge his reaction. If he didn’t know any better, he would almost say the Chancellor looked put out by his answer. 

“And that’s it?” he said, his lip curling ever so slightly. 

“What do you mean,” Anakin said hotly. A tiny spasm shot through his leg. He softened his tone. “It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?”

“If I’m being honest, Anakin,” the Chancellor answered. “Yes, I am a little disappointed. I would have thought you’d have a nobler answer for me.” 

“Nobler?”

“You’ve always been so mission-driven, Anakin,” Palpatine said. Stroking the inside of his thigh. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you. You have this…innate drive to improve the world around you. To make things right.” 

“Fix things,” Anakin said to himself. 

“Exactly,” said Palpatine. “Going on a tour of the entire galaxy sounds wonderful. Enviable, even, for those of us banished to hiding out on one planet in the far corners of the galaxy. But—forgive me if this sounds harsh, dear boy—but it would also be a very big waste, in my opinion.” 

“A waste?” 

Palpatine smiled, wide and prideful. “You have so much talent, Anakin. So much power inside you. You could do so much good with it. Especially now that you’re not bound by the Jedi and their dogma.” 

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “Good like what?”

Palpatine wrapped his arm around Anakin’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He resisted at first, not liking where the Chancellor was going with his suggestion. But a faint pressure in his shoulder blades relaxed him and he went without further protest.

“Anakin,” Palpatine said gently. “What has been your dream, ever since you were a small child?”

He didn’t even have to think. “Freeing all the slaves.” 

Palpatine gave him a pointed look. “So…?” 

Anakin looked away. Ashamed at having forgotten the promise he made to himself and his mother all those years ago for even one moment. Palpatine pulled his head back up so that they were now face to face. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten where you came from.” 

“Never!” Anakin said fervently. “It’s just…a lot more complicated than I thought it was when I was a child.” 

“How so?”

“There’s just so much politics involved. The places with the highest concentration of slavery are all outside of the Republic’s jurisdiction. There’s nothing anyone can do.” 

“But do you think they would if they could?” Palpatine argued. “When have the Jedi ever shown you that they cared about ending slavery?”

“They care,” Anakin said. Not completely understanding why he was defending the Jedi, when he has thought this for years. “They just… “ 

“Won’t do anything about it,” Palpatine finished for him. “Innocent people being tortured and exploited doesn’t threaten the status quo. So it’s not a pressing concern for anyone in power.”

 “You’re a Sith Lord,” Anakin said. Not sure if he was calling Palpatine out for his hypocrisy, or reminding yet again himself of this fact, as the Chancellor’s reasoning was sounding more and more rational.   

“And that means I can’t believe in justice?”

Anakin scowled. “This Sith manipulate the will of the Force to execute their own agendas. They use their power for their own selfish reasons. They act only out of self-interest.” 

“And the Jedi don’t?” Palpatine said rhetorically. “Which is more self-serving, cloistering oneself in a ziggurat to meditate and pontificate about the evils of emotion and attachment, or actually using the powers you’ve been gifted with to institute real change in the lives of those who need it most.” 

“The Jedi do help people.” 

“Is that why you were born into bondage, then? Is that why they never allowed you to free your mother? Is that why they only intervened in Zygerria once the war broke out and the slavers became enemies of the Republic?” 

Anakin can feel a familiar, aching rage writhing inside his stomach. He has thought all of these things before, many, many times throughout the years. The Jedi warned of the suffering caused by fear and anger and attachment. But what of the indignity of being stripped naked and muzzled for a slave auction? Of having your rations cut because your Master blamed you for their business losing profit that month. Of having no water to wash with because there was currently a shortage and it was too expensive to waste on slaves. What of that kind of suffering? How could that just be meditated away? And how could a body of powerful beings touting themselves as guardians of harmony and light turn a blind eye to it? Claiming the abuse and exploitation of innocents to be out of their hands, but then having no problem with diving into a war driven by politics and corruption? 

“It’s complicated.” 

“It always is with hypocrites,” Palpatine mused. “But think about how easy it would be to un-complicate it, Anakin. Slavers and pirates and smugglers care nothing at all for politics or rule of law. They respond only to power, to brute strength. And you have that in spades, my boy. Think about how easy it would be for you to use your natural talents to deliver justice unto those who need it most, the way the Jedi never have. After all, you’re born of the Force itself. Who could have a better sense of how its will should be exercised than you?” 

It has always made Anakin burn with satisfaction whenever the Chancellor spoke like this. It still does. In spite of the Force burning back, just as fiercely. It’s warning bright and clear. 

(Remember who he is. Remember who he is. Remember who you are)

“It’s not the way of the Jedi.” 

“But you’re no Jedi. Not anymore.” 

Anakin’s gut twisted. (Remember. Remember. Remember.) He did remember. He remembered being shut down and shut out whenever he tried to bring up his past. He remembered how good it felt to have just one person listen to him. How good it felt to have the most important man in the galaxy be that person.

The Chancellor’s words sweep their way into him, settling inside his heart and igniting a fire over years of stored up kindling. 

The frustration he felt at being seen as irrational and immature for wanting to free his mother. His despair and guilt at how he’d left her to rot in that hellhole. The resentment he carried with him like an extra limb for every single Jedi who had ever made him feel foolish for being unable to leave his pain in a vacuum. 

Hatred. Pure and nurturing and vindicating raged like wildfire within him. His entire being sang with it. If only for a moment, before it was tempered by the Force’s warning. 

(Remember) 

Yes, this was a Sith speaking these thoughts into his ear. He couldn’t forget that. But even so, they weren’t lies or half-truths. They were his own words, being repeated back to him by the only real friend he’d had for so many years. 

(Remember, remember…) 

Making Anakin sick with confliction. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he muttered. “Can we go back to the game?”

“Of course, dear one,” Palpatine smiled. And with a final pat on the leg, stood and went to sit back over on his side of the board, and waited for Anakin to make his move. 

Padmé, in a not-at-all subtle ploy to get him out of the house, had insisted they have a picnic lunch down by the lakefront today. Truthfully, Anakin hadn’t been in the mood to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. But that’s all he’s done for the past three days, and he can tell Padmé is getting frustrated with him. 

Force, he is frustrated with him. 

Here he is, in the most beautiful place in all the galaxy, with his favorite person in all the galaxy, and all he can do as of late is mope. It’s disgusting. Anakin is disgusted with himself. He wants so badly to stop. To go back to being as happy as he’d been when they’d first arrived on Naboo. But he can’t. And he doesn’t know why. 

He wishes there was a way to just wrangle it all back in. Everything that’s come out since Obi-Wan told the Council all that stuff about him and Palpatine. He wants to put it all back the way it was. He wants the Chancellor back in power. He wants the Holonews to stop spreading the lies put forth by the Council. And he wants them to stop obsessing over his and Padmé’s marriage, as if they weren’t real people behind all of the holos and romance and gossip. He wants it all gone. 

But most of all, he wants to stop the visions. Or flashbacks. Or memories. Whatever you want to call them. They’re annoying. And they’re wrong. Or, well…maybe the way he’s remembering them is wrong. Skewed. Because of the Council and the Healers and what they made him think about the time he and Palpatine spent together. It’s wrong. And it’s dirty. He’s been set straight. Nothing happened back then. Nothing. So Anakin shouldn’t be remembering his friend this way. It’s shameful. And he wishes he knew how to make himself stop. He wishes he knew how to make everything stop.  

Palpatine would know. He always knows what Anakin needs. But he hasn’t come to see him in several days, which has Anakin feeling worried, and a little abandoned. Though their last conversation ended on a bit of an awkward note, overall it has been so good having his mentor back. No one’s ever been able to get him the way the Chancellor always has—except Mom. But she’s gone. Like Palpatine was almost gone, thanks to the Jedi. It seemed to be a common theme with the Order, taking away the people who cared for him the most so that they can control him. 

He hates them. Force, does Anakin hate them for doing this to him. 

“Hey,” Padmé says, reaching up from her position in his lap to stroke the side of his face. “What’s that look for?”

She wouldn’t believe that it was nothing. But he can’t tell her the truth. She wouldn’t understand.  

“Can I tell you something?” he asked tentatively. 

“You can tell me anything,” she said, sitting up to give him her full attention. “Always.” 

“I…” he shifted, looking down at the ground and nervously plucking up blades of grass. This wasn’t really something he wanted to bring up, either. But it would go over better than the other thing. “I don’t want to be an engineer.” 

Padmé cocked her head to the side, looking puzzled for a moment. And then started to laugh. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just…you looked so guilty when you said that. I was gearing myself up for something awful.”  

He grimaced, pulling chunks of grass up by the handful. “But you had so many plans in mind after I drew that sketch and I didn’t want—“ 

“Ani,” she says firmly, grabbing his wrist to catch his attention. “It was just a random thought I had. A suggestion. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do. I can’t do that. That’s the beauty of freedom, love. Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide what you want out of life.” 

Anakin nodded, a small smile returning to his face for the first time in days. 

“I know what I want to do,” he said, emboldened. “I want to free all the slaves.” 

She blinked. Her brow furrowed. Why did she look so bothered by that?

“All of them? Everywhere?”

“Yeah,” he bristled. “Why do you make that sound impossible?”

“It’s not impossible,” she said carefully. “Just…it’s a tall order, is all. The places with the highest concentration of slavery are—“ 

“Outside of the Republic’s jurisdiction, I know. That just makes it easier then, if there’s no law and order in place there to begin with.” 

“But there is law and order there, Ani,” Padmé argued. “It’s just a different kind than what we have in the Republic.” 

“An immoral kind.” 

“True,” she said evenly. “But one we need to respect and abide by regardless.” 

“Why,” Anakin growled. “Why do we need to respect laws that allow people to be oppressed? Why do we need to respect laws that make sentient beings the property of others? How is that fair? How is that just?”

“It’s not,” Padmé said. “But we can’t breach the sovereignty of the Outer Rim planets, Ani. Not if we want them to one day join the Republic willingly. I know you want to see change happen. I want it to. But change is a process. It happens gradually. I know you don’t like it. I don’t either. Not one bit. But the situation is complicated.” 

“It always is for hypocrites,” Anakin grumbled, turning back to the grass. 

Padmé caught his wrist again. Her eyes narrowed. 

“Are you calling me a hypocrite?” she said lowly. 

Anakin wanted to slap himself. How could he say something like that? Of course not! Of course he didn’t—

“No, no! I didn’t mean—what I was trying to say is—it���s just—the Senate. The Senate is full of hypocrites.” 

“I’m a senator. Bail and Mon are senators.” 

“No, I know that. I just mean—as a whole,” he fumbled. “There’s a lot of hypocrisy. Like, we can start a war to bring planets who don’t want to be in the Republic back in, but we can’t make outside planets stop having slavery?”

“I understand your frustration, Ani—“ 

“How could you possibly understand?!” he roared. Furious, all of a sudden. With her, for not seeing it his way. With himself for making her flinch and draw away from him. “You have no idea—” 

“You’re right,” Padmé loudly cut him off. “I don’t share your experiences. I can’t understand it the way you do. But I want slavery eradicated too. So do a lot of my colleagues. But we’re politicians, Ani. Not magicians. We can’t make change happen overnight.” 

“You should, though,” he seethed. “You should have the power to make change happen overnight.”   

Padmé glared at him, snuffing out the fires of his rage with the ice in her eyes. Anakin winced, knowing how much it upset her when he talked like this. But this was how he felt. She said he could tell her anything. He was just being honest…

He should apologize. She’s hurting. He can feel it seeping out of her like puss from a wound. She’s angry and hurting because of him. He hurt her. She was just trying to do something nice for him, trying to cheer him up and pull him out of the funk he’s been in, and he’s paid her back by insulting her, her friends, and her life’s work all in one go. He needs to apologize. He needs to take it all back. But he can’t. She’ll know he doesn’t really mean it. That if he had the power he would run his lightsaber through each and every slaver in the galaxy. Right now. She’ll know that that is the real truth. She is better acquainted with that part of him than anyone else. But it’s a larger part of him than even she knows, and he spends a lot of energy hiding it from her. Except sometimes it breaks free and comes bursting out of him. And then this happens. And he doesn’t know what to do.  

Cursing his big mouth and stupid temper, Anakin reached into the picnic basket and grabbed a pastry. Popped it into his mouth and—

(“Have you ever had a muja-fruit pastry, Anakin?”

“No, Chancellor.” 

“Ah, well I have a few extra left over from a luncheon with some delegates from Ganthel. Would you care to try some?”

“Well, I guess. If it’s alright, with you, sir.” 

“By all means, dear boy. I insist.” 

The Chancellor beckoned him over to his side of his desk, and pulled out a white box from one of the drawers. He set it on the desktop, and then to Anakin’s surprise, lifted him into his lap to give him better access. 

“Go on,” he said, gesturing to the box. Anakin opened it, picked out the smallest piece he saw, and began to nibble at it. Hoping to make the treat last. 

“You seem troubled, my boy,” the Chancellor said thoughtfully. “May I ask what’s the matter?”

He placed an encouraging hand on the small of Anakin’s back and began rubbing small circles, just like Momma used to. Gods, he missed her.  

“Master Obi-Wan hates me,” he murmured. 

“Whatever would make you think that?”

Anakin flinched. He shouldn’t be talking about Master Obi-Wan like this. It was disrespectful. Not to mention ungrateful. The Council hadn’t even wanted to let him be a Jedi, but Master Obi-Wan had stuck up for him. So what if he was mean sometimes. He was just trying to make Anakin better, right?

“He’s always fussing at me, ‘cause I’m always messing up. Everything I do is wrong.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true.” 

“It is, though!” Anakin cried. “I’m lousy at meditation. I’m still having trouble reading big words. I can’t remember all my katas. And I’m trying so hard, but I can’t stop thinking about my mother!” 

He sighed. 

“I’m never gonna be a good Jedi.” 

“I see,” Palpatine said sympathetically. “Do you want to know what I think, Anakin?” 

“Yes, Chancellor.” 

“I think Obi-Wan’s just a little bit intimidated by you.”

“Intimidated, sir?”

“Anakin, if the late Master Qui-Gon’s suppositions were true, you are the Jedi’s Chosen One. Training you is a great honor, but it is also a huge responsibility. Obi-Wan is a newly-minted knight. If I had to guess, I’d say he is under an enormous amount of pressure to be a Master worthy of you.” 

“Worthy?” Anakin repeated disbelievingly. Unconsciously squeezing the pastry in his hand and “Oh no!” 

Purple splotches ran all the way down his tunic and onto his pants. Oh no. Oh no Oh no. Master Obi-Wan was always scolding him for being dirty and unkempt. He was going to be so mad if Anakin came back to the Temple looking like this! Oh no! 

“Don’t worry, Anakin,” the Chancellor soothed. “I can have my dry cleaning droid take care of that for you. Here, let me…” 

He tugged on the hem of Anakin’s tunic, pulling it up over his head. Then reached for Anakin’s leggings, removing those as well. Anakin wasn’t sure about this. The Chancellor shouldn’t have to go through so much trouble just because he’s a messy eater. But he knew better than to refuse when someone important tries to do you a favor. 

A droid came by and collected the soiled clothes from them. Anakin shivered. Freezing now, without his clothes on. The Chancellor tightened his hold around him. 

“Would you like another pastry, Anakin? Go on, have one. I insist.” 

Not wanting to be rude, Anakin took another small one from the box. 

“Now, as I was saying…” 

But Anakin wasn’t listening anymore, because the Chancellor’s hands were now moving all over him as he continued to speak. Down his back and along his arms and legs. Pulling him closer. Closer. Closer. All the while Anakin remained completely still, his Momma’s words coming back to him (“It’s just a body, Ani. Let them do what they will. It’ll be over quickly if you don’t fight.”). Right. It’s just a body. It’s just a body. It’s just a body. Just lie there and be good for them, Ani and I’ll give you and your mother double rations for the week. 

Anakin’s not surprised that this is what the Chancellor wanted from him after all. And to be honest he doesn’t really mind. The Chancellor is the only person who’s been nice to him since he’s come to Coruscant. Anakin doesn’t see a problem with giving him something in return. 

But then things start to get fuzzy. Like an incoming transmission from an old, outdated comlink. The picture grainy and the sound choppy. He can still hear the Chancellor’s voice coming in and out in spurts, talking about the Jedi, and occasionally offering Anakin more food. And he can still make out the office around him through his blurred vision. The Chancellor is still…doing that. And it hurts. But distantly. Like when his leg falls asleep and he gets that prickling feeling, but throughout his whole body. And his head. His head is the worst. It’s so heavy he can’t hold it up. But light at the same time. As if he wasn’t even in there anymore. As though he, Anakin were being pulled out of his own mind and replaced with static…  

…

…

…

What?

He’s sitting upright on the Chancellor’s lap, fully clothed and alert and a little bit dazed. 

The chromo on the wall shows that an hour has passed since he’d arrived. Wow. The time sure has gone by fast. Anakin can’t even remember what they’d been talking about. He’d been telling him about his troubles with Master Obi-Wan and then…nothing. Could he have dozed off while the Chancellor was talking. How rude! He hopes the Chancellor at least didn’t notice… 

The Chancellor has stopped talking now, and the box of muja-fruit pastries in front of him was now empty. Had he eaten them all by himself?

(“Have another Anakin. Go on. Keep eating… Have another… Have another”)

He must have. The Chancellor’s hands were clean, and his were sticky with purple filling. 

“Anakin, I’m afraid I have another meeting coming up in a few minutes that I must prepare for. I’m going to have to ask you to—“ 

“That’s alright, Chancellor,” Anakin said quickly. Embarrassed at having overstayed his welcome. “I get it! I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.” 

“Not at all, dear one,” said Palpatine, patting him on the shoulder. Anakin flinched involuntarily at the touch. He hopes the Chancellor didn’t catch it. “We really must do this again soon. I do so enjoy our visits.” 

“Me as well, sir,” Anakin said earnestly. 

He hopped off the Chancellor’s lap, and stumbled a bit, before regaining his footing. Noticing for the first time how sore his legs were. Why did it hurt to stand on them? He took another step, and his belly lurched. He wrapped his arm around his middle, and continued walking. This is what he gets for being greedy. He shouldn’t have had so many pastries.

He turned to wave a final goodbye to the Chancellor, then passed through the doors to the outer office to meet Master Obi-Wan. 

He spends the rest of the day throwing up, and ends up missing his evening meditation session. Master Obi-Wan is not pleased.) 

—gagged. Clapping a hand over his mouth. He tries to swallow, but the half-chewed bit of pastry gets lodged in the back of his throat. He retches and retches, and his eyes well up. He can’t breathe. 

“Ani?” Padmé’s sounds frightened and far away. “Ani, are you alright?”

She pats him on the back and helps him move onto the grass, as he continued to retch. The mashed bits of pastry roll around in his throat, mixing with saliva and bile. He gags, and gags. But keeps his mouth clamped tight so that the wet, mushy bits of food don’t spill out. (Have another, Anakin. Have another. Go, on, don’t be shy.). Padmé tells him to breathe through his nose and he does. He inhales and exhales and accidentally heaves what was once the pastry as well as the rest of his lunch onto the grass, while Padmé rubs his back and whispers soothing words in his ear.  

“Anakin,” she says urgently. Helping him sit back on the blanket, and dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “Are you alright?”

He nods. Then, to prove it, he grabs another pastry and shoves it into his mouth 

(Have another, Anakin)

He swallows it after two bites. Then he has another. This one too goes down without a struggle. 

Padmé still doesn’t look convinced, even after all that. But Anakin can’t eat any more. Not for the rest of the day. His stomach hurts. 

Anakin won’t talk to her. And that’s fine. 

No really, it is. The holobooks and sites all say that every survivor processes their trauma differently. That all their family can do is be there for them and validate their pain as they work through it.  

And Padmé thinks she’s doing a pretty good job at it. She hopes she is. 

It’s just… what she wouldn’t give to have someone else to talk to about all of this. Someone to reassure her that she’s doing the right thing by Anakin. 

Like Obi-Wan? that annoying “I-told-you-so” voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like the Jedi Master says. But Padmé knows she can’t com him. He’d gloat (Obi-Wan doesn’t gloat) and admonish her (Obi-Wan would understand) and tell her to take Anakin back to the Temple (Obi-Wan respects your and Anakin’s decisions). She can’t have that. 

Besides, Anakin is going to be fine. It’s expected that people who’ve experienced a severe trauma to have ups and downs. He was in a slump now, but he’d come out of it soon. Especially with her here to help him through it. 

Padmé has done a lot of research since finding out the truth of what Palpatine had been doing to Anakin all these years. She knows all about triggers and flashbacks, and has already scratched muja-fruit pastries off the list of foods to have Threepio prepare for them. But she needs more. What is it about them, specifically that set him off? The taste? The smell? The texture? Does he not enjoy sweets anymore? Or is it only just pastries? She needs to know, for Anakin’s sake, yes. But for her own as well. It’s fine that he doesn’t want to talk to her about any of this, really it is. It’s just—she needs him to. 

He doesn’t say anything after his episode, but his body goes lax and he falls into her arms, dead weight. She gathers him up and rocks them both back and forth. Pressing kisses to his brow and running her knuckles along the base of his neck. He stuffs his face into her shoulder and there are no tears. He doesn’t make a sound. And she doesn’t press him other that to ask one more time if he is alright. He is. And she leaves it at that. He’ll let her in when he’s ready. 

Which is fine. Perfectly fine. But also.

I’m right here, sweetling. I’m right here. Please just talk to me. 

-

#fic #star wars prequels #anidala #star wars au #cw child abuse #comments are nice #even tho this thing is OLD and whew so many old habits i'm glad to be rid of #the Tea verse

[omegafrisk]

omegafrisk is om-over-frisk, apologies, and unreleased stuff

i want to preface this by saying that every time i admit to a mistake i get people trying to minimise it. if you’re getting ready to do that, please don’t. it makes me feel terrible. even if you don’t agree with how i feel, i violated my own morals, and that means a lot to me!

so, omegafrisk is definitely over. it’s partially that i was in a bad bad place when i started this comic and it’s always gonna be tied to that for me, partially that i’ve just become a much better writer since then and i’d have to reboot the whole thing to be satisfied with it, and partially just that i’m not into undertale enough to make a whole comic anymore.

and speaking of being in a bad place: letting that bleed through into my writing is what i want to apologise for. i’ve come to realise i was a victim of grooming when i started this comic (and as i continued to write it). it messed me up, and i wrote messed up stuff because i just didn’t know better. the child gore, the flippant use of suicide, the extremely inappropriate jokes about kids, probably other stuff i don’t remember - it all disgusts me now. i’m so sorry i put that out into the world and that it took me so long to address it.

i thought about password protecting this blog and shutting it down altogether, but i’ve decided i won’t do that. after wrestling with tumblr a bit i think i’ve deleted  the worst stuff, but if you think there’s anything else i should get rid of please bring it to my attention through IM, or through the submit box if you’re shy (you can submit anonymously if you log out).

again, don’t defend me. if you don’t agree keep it to yourself. i will block you if you try to minimise this.

heavy stuff out of the way, onto the content, which i’m sure most of you are much more interested in.

ABOUT THE STORY

i thought about releasing my entire plot outline, but... it sucks. that thing predates mad mew mew. it’s terrible. there’s barely even any detail. whatever you’ve come up with yourself is more interesting.

i do have plenty of stuff to share though! this summary got long as hell, so the rest is going under a cut.

since it’s so long, i’ll put the one thing i am mostly happy with here (obviously sui/child death implications):

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1modE5IQiwNIwRPHBBkwADAEbPttbpIzJBWFaBZlvYHY/edit?usp=sharing

this is the script for an ask i was planning for ages. first written in 2016 apparently?? with the help of the fantastic emouse. it’s a look on what was going on in the original timeline while frisk and chara were off gallivanting through spacetime.

the one thing i’m not pleased with is i don’t think it’s totally ic for flowey to start resetting again. i left it in though ‘cause i don’t feel like updating it.

another thing i’ll leave you is the playlist of instrumental themes i collected for chara and frisk, which i don’t think i ever released. this must also be from about 2016.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVSr-S6q61wCF5IFuBO2Ipl0Nb-u3r4xo

it starts out with frisk’s themes, life/universe and high score are shared themes, and after that chara’s themes begin.

summaries of the rest of the event and the ending under the cut!

A WRINKLE IN TIME

i can at least summarise the rest of the event i had planned. mettaton was about to turn the tables on everyone by having a camera crew burst through the ceiling (which were gonna be some people’s cameo’d ocs). he’d broadcast the debate over who got the soul live to try and bully everyone into giving him it. he had some fair points - he’s the only one of them that’s literally indestructible (at least to monsters and small children) - but both asgore and undyne were determined that they would be the ones to take it.

flowey would then pop up with his own plan. he’d kill everyone in the room except for charadyne (and mettaton just because, again, indestructible to magic). it would’ve been a cool little animation that scrolled past everyone’s shocked faces as bullets appeared behind them with that jarring sound effect they have in game, then cut to black with a cacophony of them all turning to dust.

this was all to force charadyne to load their save. he thought they’d be able to load to before undyne absorbed chara’s soul, which would be impossible as that moment would’ve been undyne’s first save point. (i’m only now realising the hole in this - surely he would’ve known that after his fusion with chara? but wait, he didn’t know about resets until he was revived, can beasts just not save? fucking undertale man)

regardless, chara and undyne would try to reset to, in chara’s words, “the last time you were... filled with... determination”. i wanted to do an animatic to half of [this song]. sweet chimes as undyne rifles back through her memories for that moment, building up to her getting ready - a blast of sound as it rips the timeline to shreds.

chara’s soul is so fragmented, only exacerbated by being in a foreign timeline, that they can’t reset properly. i was thinking of styling the catastrophic glitch that resulted after an undertale corruption because those things scare the shit out of me and also can be fucking hilarious. love me some comedic horror.

chara and undyne would eventually figure out they had to leave the timeline and manually straighten it out. because it was knotted. it was wr. there was a wrinkle. in the timeline. a wrinkle in time. because the event is called. it’s c. a wrinkle in time

that’s where i was hazy on details - you can see just how much was made up as i went along. somehow, they’d be separated, and undyne would have left enough dt in chara’s soul that they’d be able to go down to the human village and yoink some souls from the mausoleum there. (i had worldbuilding stuff around that - the soul jars used in the underground are based off what humans use for burial in general. burying your body in a grave = having your soul stored in a mausoleum. there’d also be equivalents to cremation and such)

i hadn’t really thought much about that - the actual idea was that chara would find their old house and we’d get a flashback sequence about their backstory (eugh, glad i didn’t get around to that). and then, idk, the mausoleum would be empty or something? i didn’t think about what might happen if they were actually able to get all those souls. that is to say, i didn’t think about the story implications - i totally thought about chara becoming a cool shapeshifting rainbow beast because i’m like that.

THE ENDING

rest assured there was gonna be a happy ending. chara and frisk were gonna have a big cool battle bursting through various timelines where frisk tried to talk chara down and chara tried to kick frisk’s ass. at the end, frisk would’ve given up and let chara kill them. but chara wouldn’t have been able to. as viciously as they attacked, they could only do a single point of damage - they and frisk are both made of magic now, and magic works on emotion, and chara cannot truly hate frisk enough to end their life.

so they would’ve made up, broken the barrier in their original timeline together, and lived happily ever after with no more resets.

i remember daydreaming an animatic of the two of them trying to break the barrier, stumbling a few times and gradually achieving synchrony, to [this song].

you might notice i don’t mention flowey here. i was kind of struggling to figure out what to do with everyone else in regards to like, actual methods of character development. i had some ideas about chara bringing wrinkle-in-time flowey along with them on their adventures and him somehow getting his memories spliced with og-timeline flowey’s near the end but didn’t really think them through.

here’s a shittily-sketched old concept of what i might’ve done with him though:

not exactly my most beautiful work but it’s all you’re getting. it’s just visual notes, so i didn’t think it through much.

i daydreamed a lot about a cute ending animatic to [this song]. i don’t remember my thoughts well enough to summarise, but i hope you can come up with something cute yourselves!

aaand that’s all for this post. thanks for reading!

#ooc

[visambros]

For the sake of my future, I am leaving Tumblr.

I haven’t been very active on here, and I know I haven’t been particularly talkative either, but I’m making this post to let people know that I’m going. I may delete this blog in the future, but I’m keeping everything for now.

There is a long list of reasons why I’m doing this, but if you don’t want to read the entire post then the long story short version is: My life is a dumpster fire that will not change for the better unless I devote as much of my free time as possible into improving my craft so I can make a living through my art/writing.

Full details under the cut.

I’ve been planning on making this post for a while, but I didn’t want to abandon this account forever because despite not being as active on here as I used to be in the past, I’m still emotionally attached to my account and still wanted to use Tumblr as a means of entertainment when I wasn’t working. And I knew that if I made this post, I’d have to commit to staying away and I wanted to avoid that. But two things happened last Sunday that acted as a major wake up call for me.

1) There was a false alarm at a power plant not too far away from where I live. I don’t live in the same city as the power plant, but I live in what would be the danger zone should the power plant have a melt down. The false alarm for the power plant was issued in the morning. I don’t have a cell phone, but my sister (who I share a room with) does and received the alert for the “meltdown”. Since it woke her up, she was tired and accidentally exited the alert without reading it first. She then went back to sleep.

Now I don’t blame my sister for doing this. Hell, I probably would’ve done the same thing in her shoes.  My issue lies in the fact that, had there been an actual emergency, I would’ve a) slept through it or b) had no reliable way of getting out of the city.  I can’t drive, never learned how, so I couldn’t have driven myself to safety if my mom had decided not to leave the house (I know what you’re thinking; “why wouldn’t she leave the house?” and honestly she most likely would’ve left the city, but my mom has made enough stupid decisions throughout her life that her staying home isn’t outside the realm of possibility for me to believe).

Even though I know it was a false alarm, it’s still scary to think about how I could’ve died- or at least gotten very sick- had it been a real meltdown. I hate living in this city and I want to move, but I don’t have the means to do so at the moment.

2) My stepfather. For those who don’t know, my mom married a man she only knew for a few months and he is a horrible human being. He has threatened to kill me and my mom in the past, has been arrested multiple times since arriving to Canada (late last year he was arrested for possession of heroin), and is altogether an unpleasant and annoying man to be around.

So last Sunday night, I was doing the dishes when I heard a knock at the door. It was my stepfather, who had left the house for whatever reason and had returned. However, as I neared the door, I noticed that it was unlocked. He could’ve let himself in, but for whatever reason he was still knocking. I suddenly got it in my head that he wanted me to open the door so he could yank me outside without having to drag me through the house first.

I know that sounds paranoid, but the man is disturbed. I don’t think I’ve gone a week without at least worrying once that I was going to come home to my stepfather having murdered everyone else in the house while I was out. Added to the fact that he and I really hate each other and I was the one to call the police on him two times, and I think you could forgive me for thinking that he might try to hurt me if given the chance.

Despite my fears, I still opened the door for my stepfather. He didn’t attack me. He just went back inside and did whatever it was that he did. But even though nothing happened to me, I was still wound up for about five minutes and it felt like all the nerves in my body (especially my arms) were somehow taut and weak at the same time.

Aside from my sister, who is my only bright spot in this house, I don’t want to live with or have anything to do with this family anymore. I would’ve left years ago if I could. But again, I don’t have the means to do so at the moment.

This is why I’m leaving Tumblr.

I know that it’s super hard and almost impossible to make a decent living off the arts. I know I could try and try for the next decade and still not get anywhere I want to be. But I need to try, because I’m tired of my life being the way it is right now and I’m scared that things will never get better if I’m too passive.

I currently work at Walmart. I’m on my feet during the majority of my shift and my legs and knees hurt so bad I think I might be doing long lasting (but hopefully not permanent) damage to them. I work evenings, so I only have mornings and the weekends to get my art and writing done, but I’m so tired that my artistic productivity tends to drop off after Monday morning.

It’s too easy to spend my mornings and weekends procrastinating. It’s too easy for my life to turn into sleep>eat>Walmart>sleep>eat>Walmart until the day I die. The fact that it’d be so easy for me to be an old woman and still be at a similar stage in my life, even if I work my ass off trying to get my art/writing career going, fills me with so much existential dread I can hardly stand it.

But I’m tired of being so poor I could only visit my biological dad once while he was in the hospital for cancer. I’m tired of living with student loans that never seem to end. I’m tired of working at a job that demands so much of my time and energy. I’m tired of living in an area where people keep getting murdered in a less than a ten minute walk from my house. I’m tired of being afraid that I’ll come home from work and see police outside my house and body bags being taken into an ambulance. So I have to try, even if my chances of success are low.

I know I chose a bad career path for someone who wants to be financially comfortable. “Starving artist” is a stereotype that exists for a reason. But aside from it being my passion, I know I’m not good enough at anything else to make a proper living doing anything else. If I can’t make my dreams a reality, I’ll just be stuck in retail for the rest of my life, and I would honestly rather die than live like that. And I don’t want to die. Despite my anxiety and depression issues, despite the fact that I sometimes struggle with suicidal idealization, I don’t want to die. I just want my life to get better.

So when I say I’m leaving Tumblr, I don’t mean I’m just leaving Tumblr. I mean I’ll be using the internet as a whole for mainly a research/resource tool for my art and writing. Which means I’ll be spending very little time for leisure on the internet. It also means I won’t be socializing much anymore, which sucks because I like having internet friends (even though I’m bad at keeping in touch) but if I want my dreams to come true, I can’t be distracted by anything, even other people. From this point onward, I’ll essentially be working (almost) nonstop, only taking enough breaks so my brain doesn’t melt from the stress.

I know this is all very extreme, but I really haven’t fully expressed how absolutely desperate I am for my life to stop being so horrible. Maybe if I grind hard enough, things will be okay someday.

If you made it this far, thank you. And I’m sorry if I ever did anything to make you uncomfortable or hurt you in any way.

Goodbye everybody.

#personal

[loveseungs]

irony p. ii

a/n: heck here it is i just love words dont i also note: tumblr is being BadTM and broke all links so if u want p 1 just pls search for it on my blog

↠ pairing: lee felix x reader ↠ word count: 13.07k ↠ warnings: female reader ↠ genre: fluff, angst, soulmate au  ↠ part: one, two ↠ summary: 

In a world where soulmates exist, love is still a gamble.

 --

Bus rides home were usually filled with white noise and thoughts about work. But there was something about the steady pitter-patter of the rain and the hazy blur of life around you that lead you to plug in your earphones and listen to music.

It was tormenting. The catchiest beats were also the saddest ones, making your heart swell up at every relatable lyric. It was as if Spotify was playing with the strings of your heart, plucking them like an instrument every time a song about heartbreak came into your queue.

You were stuck in a state of paradox. The more you tried to forget, the more you tried to erase him who was in your heart, the more you remembered. You hated him because you knew that you couldn’t truly bring yourself to hate him.

Timing never seemed to be right with the two of you. If only you’d discovered that he was your destiny a few years later, maybe everything would have worked out, but since you found out a little bit too early, the problem then became you being too late to tell him.

A full year had already passed, and it felt like time was stretched. Graduation seemed so long ago after the ball started rolling on your career life. Once you moved to Busan and getting a great albeit stressful job, so many things just seemed to have happened. You convinced yourself of the fact that this was life now, and if this was all you were going to get, you were going to make it as spectacular as possible. Moving on from the mess that was Lee Felix was dealt and done with, however, it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t think about him every once in a while.

Twelve months ago, your arm was always covered in ink. The week you stopped talking to Felix, that’s when they started to appear. A thousand little messages written on your arm every single morning was what you had to wake up to. You’d seen your fair share of ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘I miss you’s, but you weren’t taking any of it. You knew that if you dared to reply once, even just once, you knew you’d just get hurt all over again—it was not something you were willing to risk, even if those annoying writings on your arm caused you to buy more long-sleeved shirts.

Gradually, their appearances lessened until the messages stopped altogether. Something about the absence of the all-too-familiar handwriting finally settled the fact that he was all but a memory that you were to leave in the past.

Occasionally, there were times that the memory of him would be jogged once again, like on this particular bus ride home. Truly, the blame was to be put on the meaningful lyrics and solemn melodies.

Chhhh. This was the part where you got off the bus and shook whatever bad vibes you were feeling out of your mind. This was not the time to feel sad. Not today, not today.

“Oh, you’re home already. How was work?” your grandma greeted from the kitchen, the sound of sizzling oil faintly echoing through the house.

“Shall I tell you over dinner?” You pursed your lips into a smile. “Or do you want to be spoiled? Just a hint, today was fantastic.”

“Well, if that doesn’t tickle my fancy. If you’re gonna start it off like that, sweetie, you might as well just tell me now,” she answered.

You entered the kitchen with a dramatic stride. You stopped for a second to pose, then you took a loud, deep breath. “Your grandkid made it, Nana. I, [L/N] [F/N], have been promoted to the Assistant Brand Manager of the department. Boss said I get a bonus on every third Friday of the month. Isn’t that something?”

“My, my. Won’t you treat your old woman out for dinner one of these days, since you’re now swimming in money? I’d love a steak, dear,” she smiled. “I’m only joking. I am so, so proud of you, darling! We need to celebrate! Come give me a hug!”

You wrapped your arms tightly around your grandmother. “Agh, I’m beyond elated! Shall we go somewhere special?”

“Would you care for some wine, perhaps? I’m cooking beef, so I think it would taste great. Set out the table outside, let’s enjoy the evening breeze. Let’s talk more about your promotion later. Who’s going to take your previous spot on the team?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Boss said there were some very promising newcomers, and I can only hope they’ll be a good addition and not a downfall to our team. Did you know that our department is one of the most productive ones? Ever since the PR department waged war on us, our productivity rate has doubled in number.”

“Why would you want to wage war on other departments? Mustn’t you work together for the better of the company?”

“Yes!” you replied. “It’s mostly to see who can boost the company’s sales better. We usually compete when we do our weekly reports to the boss. I think Boss secretly knows about the Marketing-PR war because he hasn’t said a word about any of our shenanigans, even if we blatantly express our friendly rivalry. There’s a small scoreboard in the conference room to tally which department did better that week, and it’s updated by the secretary. Boss didn’t order it to be put there, but he hasn’t said anything about it either.”

“It sounds wonderful. That’s quite a great way to promote efficiency in the company,” your grandmother commented, plating the dishes she had prepared for dinner.

“I know! Rumor has it that Boss is planning a company outing where all the departments will go on a head-to-head competition. I don’t know the details, but my co-worker said that she heard it from the janitor who heard it from the secretary,” you went on, “anyway, I’ll save more of the talk for later. Where do you keep the candles? I’ll put some outside as I set the tables.”

“In the left-most wooden drawer—no, not that one. Yes, that one. Glad to hear that work is good for you, honey. Makes me very glad.”

--

How could you stop a smile from making its way to your face? When you stepped into work the next day, you wore a grin like an expensive article of clothing.

“Somebody’s cheerful today,” your co-worker, Yugyeom mentioned, looking up from his desk. “what’s with the happy demeanor, [Y/N]?”

“Can’t I revel in the fact that I’ve finally been promoted?” you answered, taking a seat at your desk.

“Come on. There must be something else that’s up. Did you get a boyfriend? Meet a soulmate? Win the lotto? Your smile’s so bright, I think I’m going to go blind.” He rolled his eyes.

“No! Gross, I don’t have time for things like that,” you huffed. Leaning in, you whispered, “Listen. There’s a newcomer that’s going to be added to our team. Apparently, he’s from the Daejeon branch of the company, and he’s being transferred here to the Busan office because apparently, he did very well. Do you realize what this means for us? If we get another good employee, we’ll have one more person to help tackle PR on the scoreboard.”

“Damn, girl! Talk about competitive!”

“You know you’re excited, too.”

“Okay, fine. I am. Let’s teach this newcomer to help us in the quest to out-produce PR.”

“Morning, guys,” a familiar voice greeted. You and Yugyeom stood up to bow to your superior.

“Morning, Chan,” you greeted back.

“Woah, no ‘Sir’ for you, huh, [Y/N]?” Yugyeom snickered.

You hit him playfully. “I’ve known Chan since high-school. He’s the one who told me not to call him ‘Sir’. Anyway, is it true that the newcomer’s a good one? Gosh, I can’t wait. This is like fresh meat for us, you know? Do you know his name?”

“How do you know he’s a guy?” Yugyeom asked, raising a brow.

“Heard it from the janitor. Swear the janitor knows everything. Need info? I can get it for you. The janitor makes a pretty good friend,” you explained. “Anyway, like I asked, Chan. Do you have info on him?”

“Actually, [Y/N], I don’t. The Chief of Staff has yet to introduce me to him, which is kind of surprising. But to be fair, I’ve been out on business trips lately, so I’m not all too shocked,” Chan explained. “I hope this person is what make him out to be. Oh, speak of the devil.”

“Hello, all. Good morning. As you know, I’m Mr. Park, Chief of Staff, and I’m here to bring to you the latest addition to your team. As some of you may have heard, he is from our Daejeon branch and is a very capable man. I hope you will all take care of him.”

Chan took one glance at you to make sure you were doing alright, but all he saw was your jaw suspended in the open air, eyes wide.

You felt everything and nothing all at once.

“Everyone, this is Lee Felix, and he will be in charge of product marketing.”

--

You slammed the door to the office pantry behind you, Chan following inside. As you finished downing an entire cup of coffee, you sputtered, “How could this have happened? Chan! You’re like, the only person who knows what happened between Felix and I during high-school and college!”

“I swear, I didn’t know!” Chan defended, handing you a glass of water to calm you down. “I’m just as shocked as you are, alright? Drink this.”

“Is the world seriously against me?” you grumbled, burying your face in your hands. “Just as things have been looking up, he walks back into my life just like that! Here! In Busan! Where I purposely went so that I could get away from him!”

“Calm down, [Y/N]. Let’s sort this out. But you have to promise me that you won’t let your personal problems get in the way of professionality. I know you’re in shock, but let’s try not to let this get the best of you. Remember, PR’s been on the top of the leaderboard for two weeks straight, and we really need to step up our game,” the older boy spoke, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll try to fix this, yeah?”

“Dear goodness, I sure hope so,” you muttered, setting down the second empty paper cup as you looked at the office through the pantry blinds.

“I knew Felix had a job in marketing, but I didn’t know it was for our company, nevertheless did I expect him to end up here with us. I thought he got hired back in Seoul,” Chan commented, also watching the newcomer through the blinds.

“Right?” you sighed. “What on this good, green earth am I going to do know? I’m going to have to engage in conversation, you know?”

“Well, I suppose you can’t hide from him forever. After all, he… is your—”

“God, Chan. Don’t say it, please. Please don’t remind me,” you begged, shoulders going down in a slump.

Just like that, your joyful morning mood was dampened like the imminent grey clouds on a sunny June day, and now you were left with a situation you couldn’t run from.

--

A couple of days passed and you successfully avoided having to make any contact with Felix.

Surprisingly, things weren’t as bad as you had expected. You only had to do that obligatory bow when you greeted each other in the hallways, but that was it. You could not have it any other way.

“So… how’s stuff? You doing okay?” Chan asked one lunchbreak, grabbing his chopsticks from the lunch tray.

You gulped the rice in your mouth. “Could not be better. Can you believe it? One week went by without anything more than a couple of seconds of eye-contact and a bow.”

Yugyeom, who was sitting beside you, squinted his eyes. “Wait. Who are we talking about?”

“Uh,” you began, shooting a glance at Chan. “N-No one important, really. Just this person I met.”

“What, blind date outside of work?” he asked.

“No, I don’t have time for dates.”

Your co-worker gave you a goofy smile. “Aw, sucks for me, I just lost my shot.”

“Gross, Mr. Kim!” you laughed.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. Anyway, what’s your soulmate link?”

Great. The taboo question. It was cool, it was cool, you were chill, you were chill. “Oh, uh… why? What’s yours? Have you met your soulmate?”

“I’m a late bloomer, I guess. Lots of my friends have met their soulmates already, but my link says I’m still meeting my soulmate in… a couple of months. I’d show you the tattoo, but no one can see it anyway,” Yugyeom shared, taking a bite of his lunch. “How about you? I asked you first.”

“It’s a drawing link. Whatever’s drawn on my skin shows up on my soulmate’s or vice versa,” you said quietly, sipping your water. “But I’m not too hung up on the soulmate idea. Did you know that Chan’s real lucky? He scored a jackpot. Have you seen his girlfriend? She’s super nice. She and Chan are like the older siblings I never had.”

“Hey, but it was hard. You know, I had such a hard time with visual projects back in school before I met her. I had to keep asking my friends to tell me if my presentations looked good because really, I couldn’t tell. If I worked on them alone, they’d probably have the color scheme of ugly sweaters. So glad I can see color now, or else I probably would have a difficult time here in the company,” Chan chuckled at the thought. “By the way, she’s asking if you wanna come over some time for dinner. She misses hanging out with you, you know.”

“Oh for sure. How about this Saturday evening? I need to tell her about the recent news. Unnie’s gonna freak,” you asked Chan while you noted the schedule down on your phone.

“Hey, I thought you were gonna help me that evening with the project Boss assigned us?” Yugyeom piped up. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cancel!”

“Relax, Mr. Kim. Let’s do that over lunch. No need to worry,” you told him.

Just then, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder and you turned around hastily, wiping your mouth.

Standing there with a hand at the back of his head was He-Who-Shan’t-Be-Named.

“Uh… Ms. [L/N]?”

‘Ooh, never thought I’d hear my last name roll off his tongue. Whatever, that’s to be expected,’ you thought.

“Sorry to bother you during lunch, but I need you to look over some paperwork that you submitted. Some of it wasn’t completed,” the freckled boy announced, handing you a folder.

You raised a brow. “Have I not? I could have sworn that I checked over these twice. I never submit incomplete paperwork.”

“A-Ah, is that so? But look here, there’s a blank space.”

You scanned the papers in your hands thoroughly. Glancing beside you, you inquired, “Mr. Kim, I thought this section of the paperwork was your job?”

Yugyeom took the folder from you. “What’s this? I didn’t send you the complete copy?”

“No?”

“Sorry, Mr. Lee. This was a fault on my part. It’s true, Ms. [L/N] never submits incomplete paperwork. I’ll have these files ready by 13:30, after lunch. Apologies for the inconvenience,” Yugyeom apologized, bowing.

Felix sported a polite smile. “Oh, it’s alright. I’m so sorry for the confusion, Miss [L/N]. Thank you for your hard work.”

“Um, you’re welcome.”

Caw. Caw. Caw.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. Enjoy the rest of your lunch, Ms. [L/N], Mr. Kim, Sir Bang,” Felix bowed, dragging his legs towards the opposite direction.

When he was out of sight, you leaned in to whisper, “If that wasn’t the most awkward two minutes of my entire company experience! I was doing so well up until this moment. I told you it’s best if I don’t talk to him!”

“What’s up with you and Mr. Newbie? You two know each other?” Yugyeom pressed, letting his chin rest on his hand. “Oh my. Don’t tell me—he’s the guy you went on a blind date with!”

“Lower your volume!” you scolded. “And ew, no! I already told you, I don’t have time for blind dates.”

“So give me a good reason as to why you’re apparently avoiding him!”

Chan came to the rescue. “Oh, we all went to the same high-school. [Y/N] and Feli—Mr. Lee used to go to the same college. She’s just had some weird encounters with him, is all.”

You nodded as if to agree with your superior. “Yup. Although don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to let it affect my work. Professionalism is professionalism.”

“Oh, is that right? Mm, didn’t know that,” Yugyeom answered, “anyway, let’s head back to our department. Lunch break is ending and I gotta fix this paperwork.”

--

The conference room door closed slowly behind as you and Chan made your way out from the most recent meeting. People from PR gave you both a smirk before heading towards their department. You clutched your fists in frustration and bore holes into their backs while stomping to the opposite direction.

“Just because they’ve gotten a lead on the scoreboard makes them think they can act like that, huh,” you hissed, rolling your eyes. “I swear, I’m working overtime this week.”

Chan placed a hand on your shoulder and stopped you. “Calm down, it’s gonna be alright, okay? Besides, we should be happy that they’re doing good for the company. Don’t get me wrong, I hate their department with my guts, but it’s nice to see Boss smiling at the good reports. But here’s the catch. Next week, we’re having the company outing. I’ve yet to announce it to the department, so keep your mouth quiet. I received the e-mail this morning, and it’s going to be held in Jeju island. There’s going to be lots of activities. Boss thinks it’s a good investment to have a fun company outing to, quote unquote, ‘promote bonding in the workplace’.”

You gasped and pointed at Chan. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We get to totally mow down PR in competition?”

“The prize is yet to be announced, and yes. We’re going to kill it. Of course, that means everyone in the department has to double-time this week so that we can enjoy the outing without thinking of work. How’s the project I assigned you doing?” Chan questioned.

From behind you, a voice spoke. “Uh, sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help but overhear you two talking about the company outing. According to Secretary Bambam, each department is going to stay in separate guest houses. Do you need some help, Ms. [L/N]?” Yugyeom brought up, joining in on the conversation.

“Help? For what?” you asked, raising a brow.

Yugyeom put a hand to his mouth. “Don’t you have some kind of uncomfortable business with Mr. Lee, the newbie? I don’t know, I thought you’d be bothered.”

“Mr. Kim!” Chan boomed. “Don’t let [Y/N]’s personal matters affect how you interact with the people on our team. The least we need is division amongst ourselves. Where even did you get the information on the outing? You’re not supposed to know yet.”

“Why hide it? As I was making coffee in the staff room, Secretary Bambam offhandedly mentioned it to me,” Yugyeom answered, holding his clipboard.

“I’m sure it’s not going to be so bad,” you reassured the two boys, heading over to your desk. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Kim.”

--

“This is so bad,” you grumbled, throwing different articles of clothing on your bed. There were all sorts of knick-knacks flying around your tiny room, scattered any place a knick-knack could be.

Just then, the door to your room opened and your grandma stepped in, raising her hands in surprise. “Woah, woah, woah! What’s going on in here? Your room looks like a jungle of clothes! I said pack for your trip, not unleash the beast, sweetie.”

You let out an exasperated groan as you shut the door of your closet. “Sorry, grandma. I’m just a little stressed thinking about the trip.”

“Come sit,” the older woman insisted, patting the empty spot on your bed beside her. “Tell me what’s wrong. To think this trip is supposed to be a celebration for the numerous victories your company has been making these past few months.”

“It’s not the company, grandma,” you admitted, taking a seat beside her. “It’s…it’s just that I have to deal with being stuck in a house with someone I wish I didn’t need to be with.”

“Hmm? That’s strange, I always thought you to be one of the more amiable people at work. Are you not friends with everybody?”

You sucked in your breath and prepared for what was about to come. “There’s this one guy. His name is Lee Felix… and… he’s… my soulmate.”

“Oh my.”

Right then and there, you decided that you could no longer keep up the bubbling vexations you buried deep in your chest. From the moment you met him until the very moment those years of friendship ended, you told her everything, not sparing a single important detail. By the time you finished up your story, your face was puffy and your eyes were red. The nighttime breeze howled quietly in the background, enveloping you in a chill.

“A-And recently, I thought I was doing okay, but he decided to take another stride back into my life. I mean, it’s all good at work, but it’s been so hard to focus lately and I don’t know why. I know I’m over him, and I’ve resigned to not thinking about soulmates or finding love or whatever. But every time I see that damned face of his, things come flooding into my mind,” you sniffled, blowing your nose. Your grandma rubbed soothing circles on your back, listening to every word that you spoke. “It doesn’t help that PR is doing better than Marketing lately, and I can’t help but think that maybe I’m slacking off a bit or something.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Here, drink some water,” your grandma began, “if you’ll let me, may I share what I think about your situation?”

“Go ahead, grandma. I’m so sorry for crying.”

“Sweetie, no, don’t do that. It’s okay to cry. But you know, I think the reason why you’ve become so competitive at work, the reason you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, the reason why you hold anger in your heart towards Felix despite saying that you’ve moved on from him, even the reason why you always apologize for crying—all those reasons are the same. From what I’ve been hearing, I think you need to re-examine what’s really in there,” she explained, pointing at your left chest where your heart was. “Ever since Felix, you’ve blamed yourself for everything. Because you knew you got hurt, you sorta… how should I say this… resigned yourself into thinking ‘I’m never going to get hurt like that again’. You made that mistake, and you’ve been beating yourself over it for these past few years.”

“I-I have?”

“Honey, I have to tell you. It’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay,” your grandma said, pulling you into a hug. “And honestly, I think the person who needs forgiveness most now isn’t Felix, but you. Forgive yourself, [Y/N]. It’s alright that you stumbled along the way.”

Your face crumpled. It was true. You felt so… so raw in front of your grandmother who saw right through you, who saw right through your heart. Everything somewhat fell into place, and you realized the reason you were hurting. And it felt good, to have finally admitted what you were hiding deep down for so long.

“So… what do I do now, grandma?” you asked, voice coming out as a choke. “What now?”

“It’s your choice if you want to, at the very least, tolerate him or let him go. Whatever you choose, know that I’m proud of you for taking those steps. Now go pack, it’s getting late and you’re supposed to meet up with the team early tomorrow. Please bring a jacket.”

“I will,” you replied, watching your grandmother get up and head out of your room. “Hey grandma?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Thank you.”

--

The sun was barely out, but you and your team were already outside the company building waiting for the van. The sounds of yawning and drowsy morning chatter filled the atmosphere.

Just before you left the house, your grandma left you some rice cakes on the table. A note saying ‘Eat well and enjoy <3’ came with it, helping you start your day off with a smile. As your team lined up to board the ferry, you bit into a rice cake, letting your teeth sink into the soft delicacy. Wow. It was beyond scrumptious.

The vicinity was getting a little bit warm as the sun began its ascent into the higher areas of the sky, causing you to remove the jacket you were wearing, As you tied the piece of clothing to your waist, you couldn’t help but notice a scribble on your left arm, just below your wrist.

‘Would you ever consider giving me one of your rice cakes? I’m so sorry, I saw you eating some and I haven’t had breakfast. It’s alright if you decide not to. I’ll wash off the ink with hand sanitizer.’

You jerked your head up, scanning the crowd for a certain someone. When your eyes landed on an all-too-familiar freckled boy, he reciprocated your stare with a sheepish smile.

You did a double-take. Should you forfeit your streak of barely having to interact with him or offer a rice cake to your hungry co-worker who would probably really need to eat something before leaving to engage in several tiring activities? Damn it, you knew he loved rice cakes.

Hesitantly, you shuffled over to Felix, who waved to you and bowed as you approached him. “Uh, good morning, Fe—Mr. Lee.”

“Hi, Miss [L/N]. Get my note?” the boy asked, pointing to your arm. Damn, you knew about his booming voice, but you’d forgotten just how deep his pitch was.

“The chicken scratch handwriting was quite hard to miss.”

“I’m sorry for using this particular means of communication. I just… I’m finding it a little difficult to talk to you, no offense.”

“None taken,” you answered, handing him a rice cake. “You’ll just really do anything for a rice cake, huh?”

In seconds, the poor rice cake was scarfed down. Felix wiped his mouth with his jacket sleeve. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“Like I’ll ever forget the reason half my lunch was always missing back in high-school,” you scoffed. “Here, you can have one more. I have more food in my bag anyway. Why’d you skip breakfast?”

‘Damn it, [Y/N]!’ you thought to yourself. ‘What the hell is up with you? I thought we agreed to just hand him a rice cake and leave?!’

“I live a bit far from here. I couldn’t miss the bus,” he answered, adjusting the neck pillow sitting comfortably on his shoulders. It was sort of endearing, how the neck pillow was themed to be a cute teddy bear design. Felix yawned. “And I didn’t sleep too well last night. Had to do some last-minute paperwork because somebody turned in their files late. Thank you so much, by the way. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

“You’re welcome. And oh, I can imagine how awful that is. Late paperwork, I mean. I feel bad for nagging our co-workers to send me files, but in the end, it gets the job done, you know,” you replied, straightening your back. “Anyway, if that will be all, I’m just gonna—”

“Wait, don’t go!” Felix sputtered, grabbing a hold of your arm. He quickly released it, ears turning red. “A-Ah, sorry. I just wanted to ask you something about PR.”

“PR? Huh. Go shoot,” you mused, and you could still feel the burning spot where Felix’s hand collided with your arm.

“What’s up with this thing I hear about a Marketing-PR war?”

As you opened your mouth to speak, Chan interrupted you with a tap. “Hey, [Y/N], I need to borrow a pen.”

You fished for your trusty gel pen from your backpack and handed it to Chan, who began to look around and tick off boxes on his clipboard. Taking a peek at the clipboard, you saw that he was just doing a headcount.

“That’s our leader-nim, huh?” you teased, playfully giving Chan a nudge. He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll give your pen back later, I need it for a while. Go line up over there already, the van is leaving in ten minutes,” Chan answered, walking away.

Felix began to make his way to the spot that Chan had instructed you both to go to, and you followed right behind. As soon as he set his luggage down on the floor again, he turned to you. “So… Marketing-PR war?”

“Oh yeah,” you nodded, remembering. “It’s kind of a long story, but I guess it’s important to know the origins of the great Marketing-PR battle. I can tell you about it on the way, but only if you’re truly ready to hear the origins.”

“I mean sure. We’re spending a lot of time in the van anyway, so we have plenty of time to kill.” Felix suggested. “I’m so glad Boss booked the high-speed car ferry. A trip that would usually take five hours is cut down to two.”

“Good, good, sure. I only have so much downloaded drama on my phone to kill time. So anyway, since we have a lot to cover, I better start. It begins when Sir Park Jinyoung—not the CEO, the head of PR—gets one of Marketing’s most competent workers, Choi Youngjae.”

--

“Thank everything we’re here,” Yugyeom breathed, grabbing his duffle bag from the trunk. “I thought we’d never make it.”

“On the bright side, Mr. Lee finally knows the deep, dark past of Marketing and PR,” Chan mentioned, helping Yugyeom get his bags.

“Yeah, um, after we got interrupted like, ten times.” You rolled your eyes. “I could have told the whole story in one hour, but you kept cutting in and getting side-tracked. Did Mr. Lee have to know about the Ramen Incident?”

“Okay, fine, whatever. Let’s go settle in the guest house. Boss wants us to meet in the conference hall at 1:00 sharp. He’s going to brief everyone on the activities,” Chan retorted.

“Boss is here?” Felix questioned, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah, he’s here to oversee the activities. Usually, he’d send the secretary, but since two entire departments are here, he came,” Yugyeom answered.

The four of you wheeled in your luggage into the cozy-looking cabin, which turned out to be more modern and restful that you’d expected. The inside was simple and minimalistic but sported a few home-esque touches. There were four bedrooms to be split between the team, but Chan had already assigned them. The girls would have the rooms upstairs while the guys would stay in the two downstairs. You were more than thankful to have a sensible roommate—her name was Jihyo and she was one of the more responsible ones on the marketing team.

“I’m relieved that we got here in one piece,” Jihyo commented, setting down her bags in the closet. “I’m surprised that Mr. Kim didn’t blow up the van.”

You chuckled. “Sometimes, I wonder how he’s even considered a grown man.”

“Right? Also, would you like some mosquito spray? I hear that it gets very bugsy outside,” she offered, holding up a bottle.

“How could I have scored such an awesome roomie? Thank you so much,” you grinned, spraying the product on your skin.

As soon as you both finished settling down, you made your way downstairs to meet the others. Once everyone was there, the Marketing team headed outside towards the conference hall, where your boss was waiting.

“Oh, nice. We made it first,” Chan mentioned, taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs.

You plopped down beside him. “Plus points to Marketing for being punctual.”

In a few seconds, a group of people started to pile into the venue one by one, and you recognized them as the terrible faces of PR. The engine of competitiveness was revving up as the minutes passed.

“Welcome to the long-awaited JYP company outing,” the one and only CEO boomed into the mic, “it’s nice to see that many of you were able to come.”

An applaud echoed throughout the hall.

“Anyhow, I’d not like to keep you here any longer. I’m sure that you are all famished by the travel and have not gotten the chance to eat a proper lunch yet. Worry not and let that be one of the driving forces for you all to give your best at the activities. The schedule is as follows: at 1:30 PM, the Relay Race will start. It will take around one to two hours, so I expect it to be over at around 3:00 PM. I will now announce the mechanics of the Race. Secretary Bambam, please flash the slides,” your Boss announced.

“Alright. You are now here,” he stated, pointing a laser at a spot on the screen. “Each team will go through a series of obstacles throughout the area. All these obstacles have been tailored to test your skills as employees, of course, as to not waste such a valuable opportunity to incorporate training and recreation. Some of these include creating a campaign for a product on the fly and trying to persuade me, who will act like a customer, to buy the said product. Each time you beat one obstacle better than the other team, you gain one point. Whoever gains the most points by the end of the Race gets quite the grand prize. At JYP, we don’t plan shabby company outings. At JYP, we allow our employees to have a chance at a fabulous prize, and this year, the winning department not only gets a delicious barbeque sponsored by our clients but also a bonus for next month’s paycheck.”

The entire hall erupted in cheer, everyone clearly enthused at the sound of the word ‘bonus’, which was just like an angelic choir.

“Right now, you all have a couple of minutes to plan out your strategies. Here are the list of ‘obstacles’ you will be facing, and I suggest you take time to assign your best people to the activities that they are most likely to do well at. At 1:30 sharp, Secretary Bambam will ring a bell and everyone should be off. Time starts now! Enjoy, everyone. See you at the finish line.”

You took one look at the screen in front and Chan was already motioning for your department to come and huddle.

“Alright, so for activity one, we need our most persuasive members. Ms. Park, Mr. Yang, I think you’d be most suited for that. Mr. Kim, I’m assigning you to face off in that dance battle,” Chan instructed.

“Are you kidding me?” Yugyeom shrieked. “Actually, you know what, sure. I’d rather do that than try to come up with a marketing scheme for Boss. Did you know I’ve won several awards for dancing in college? If I wasn’t in this company, I’d probably rocking the stag—”

“Not now! Anyway, Ms. Im, I’ll trust you to activity three. We all need to work together for activity four, then for the final activity—oh.”

Chan glanced at you, then glanced at Felix. You caught sight of that began to shake your head vigorously.

“Chan, whatever you’re thinking, NO.”

Your superior walked over to you and whispered, “[Y/N], we both know you and Felix can annihilate anyone in a three-legged race.”

“That was in high-school!” you defended, rubbing your palms together. “There’s no way—why is that activity even on the list?! Everyone knows the three-legged race is just so that people can poke fun at the contestants.”

“Think about PR winning that sweet, sweet bonus that we’re supposed to snag,” Chan tempted, etching a horrible image in your mind.

You did a double-take. “Fine, fine! But only because I hate PR’s guts more than I can humanely bear. Damn it.”

--

The score was currently tied, and it was down to the last obstacle: the dreaded three-legged race. ‘Of course this was how it was going to pan out,’ you thought to yourself, ‘because the universe hates me and loves to play with my life.’

While Yugyeom was busy bragging about his epic win at the dance show-off, you were bent down, tying a ribbon around your leg and Felix’s.

“Hey,” Felix began, clearing his throat. “Sorry you had to end up with me. I can tell you’re pretty bummed out.”

You whipped your head to him and your cheeks started to flush. “U-Uh, that isn’t it. It’s fine, really. Let’s just totally kill PR, alright?”

“You still got that three-legged race spirit in you?” he asked, stretching his arms. “Or has it withered away over the years?”

“I will never, ever give up my secret talent for three-legged races.”

“We’ll see about that. Wanna test it out? Let’s walk from here to there. No stumbling.”

You scoffed and nodded. In a few seconds, Felix found a way to snake his arms around your waist and a glare was quickly sent in his direction.

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that this is the only way we can advance faster. Tried and tested, remember?” Felix piped up, adjusting his footing. “It’s how we beat that loser from Class B in high-school.”

“Alright already, let’s get this over with. Test from here to the water bottle?”

“Yup. One, two, three, go.”

Just like he said, the extra support from his grasp allowed for you both to move swiftly. It wasn’t long until you were able to reach the water bottle finish-line.

“See, told you.”

“Okay, contestants! Please make your way to the starting line now for the final battle, the tiebreaker!” Secretary Bambam announced over a microphone.

“How are you guys doing? You alright?” Chan’s voice came from behind you, causing you both to turn your heads in unison.

“Still got it, Sir Bang. The three-legged race has always been something me and Ms. [L/N] will always conquer with flying colors. Watch us win the department a bonus and a barbeque,” Felix grinned, giving Chan a thumbs-up.

“Can’t wait to see PR’s crushed faces. This is gonna be a breeze.” You saluted.

“Actually,” Chan started, leaning into a whisper. “You might wanna look over there. This is actually going to be quite close.”

Turning your head to the other side, you caught a glimpse of two familiar men. A gasp escaped your mouth.

“Wang and Tuan?!” you screamed, making Chan shoot you a look that said ‘shut-up’.

“What’s wrong with Wang and Tuan?” Felix questioned, head still turned in their direction.

You rubbed your temples in frustration. “Um, yes, you heard me. It just had to be the damned Wang and Tuan! They’re notorious for being one of the company’s most athletic individuals. We might as well surrender now because Mr. Tuan used to be in the track team back in the day and Mr. Wang once tried to match the speed of a moving car.”

“Hey, I used to be in Taekwondo! I have legs, Ms. [L/N]. Legs for days,” Felix replied.

“It’s indeed going to be a tough one, but we don’t know how well Mr. Wang and Mr. Tuan can run as a duo. For all we know, they’re amazing solo runners but terrible once their legs are tied together,” Chan encouraged.

“Nope.” You pointed at the two men who were jogging together in place. “Look at that coordination.”

“Okay, I hate to do this, but I know spite is the greatest motivator for you, [Y/N],” Chan started, balling his hands into a fist. “Remember when you were stressing over late paperwork the other day and wanted chocolate milk but found out there were none left in the staff room?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Wang took the last one,” Chan stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, but he did. When I went over to PR to hand in some files, I saw him sipping the last carton of chocolate milk.”

“That piece of scum,” you seethed, grabbing on to Felix’s waist. “That’s it, Felix. We’re taking them down.”

“Oh, we’re on first-name basis now?” the freckled boy asked innocently, putting his arm on your waist as well.

“This is war,” you declared, “we’re partners now. And today, we’re going to wipe off the dregs of society from this earth.”

--

Crackle. Crackle. A wave of heat kissed your face as a puff of smoke danced with the air. And the smell of charcoal was absolutely disgusting, but it was the single sweet reminder that everybody needed and deserved.

“Are we ready?” Yugyeom whispered, hiding behind your back.

“Let’s get cooking.”

Within seconds, the entirety of the Marketing team was scrambling to grab a hold of a piece of barbeque, hungry employees bustling left and right. After winning the competition, food was screaming to be devoured. It was three in the afternoon and nobody’d eaten lunch yet.

“Wait!” Chan cleared his throat. “Do we have drinks? I would like to make a toast.”

“Uh…” Jihyo drawled, eyeing the vicinity. “We have paper cups, but no drinks. Seriously? Who plans a barbeque with no drinks?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll go to the store. I heard it’s not far from here,” you offered, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jacket.

“I’ll go with you in a second,” Chan answered, grabbing a paper cup, “but before we eat, to [Y/N] and Felix! The ones who trampled over PR during the tiebreak! Raise a glass!”

A cheer erupted from everyone’s mouths as empty paper cups were raised in the air to honor the victory that belonged to the team.

“Oh, can I come with? There’s a couple of things I wanna buy, too,” Yugyeom asked, walking towards you.

“You guys go ahead, I’ll save you some barbeque,” Felix suggested, waving. “Congrats to us. Go get the team some refreshing stuff!”

The three of you made your way out of the area and onto the streets, searching for a nearby grocery or convenience store.

After what seemed like miles of walking, your feet finally brought you in front of a small grocery. You didn’t hesitate to walk right in and pick up a basket.

The humble store consisted of a few shelves with worn-out paint lined up neatly in rows and holding all kinds of snacks and delights. The gentle whirring coming from the back lead you to a clear refrigerator with different drinks, and pretty soon, the metal basket in your hands was filled with several bottles. These were piled onto the counter along with a couple bags of chips, courtesy a snacky Yugyeom.

“What?” he said when you started to eye him judgingly, throwing the chip bags on the cashier tabletop. “It’s for my midnight cravings and the trip back home.”

You rolled your eyes, handing the cashier your credit card in exchange for your purchases. After getting your card back, the three of you headed back outside. Chan stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, so from here, did we take a left turn or a right turn? Right, right?”

“Pretty sure it was a left turn, Chan.”

“What?! You two are crazy, we came from straight ahead! I saw that sign with the cute cats earlier.”

“Okay, Mr. Kim, we’re trusting you.”

“Just drop the honorifics already. It’s alright.”

A minute passed… then two… then five…

“This isn’t the way that we came from.”

“You know what? This is why we live in a technological world. Let me just Google Maps this,” Yugyeom scoffed, pulling out his phone. “Aaaaaand… it says my line was cut off because I forgot to pay the bill. Cool, cool. Chan?”

“I left my phone in the room earlier because I didn’t want it to be hurled around during the race,” Chan answered. “[Y/N], you?”

A trickle of sweat slipped down your forehead. “Phone’s been dead for over an hour. I used it to record Wang and Tuan’s devastated faces after the competition.”

“Um, excuse me,” Chan attempted, trying to ask an elderly lady for help. She waved him off, muttering something about dangerous strangers.

“Right, so we’re lost, no help, and completely foreign-looking streets. What could get worse?” Yugyeom mumbled all pessimistic.

The clouds rumbled above.

“Seriously?!” Chan breathed out, gesturing for you three to wait under the shade of the grocer’s storefront. “Situational irony? Isn’t this just fantastic?”

“Hold on,” you began, turning to the oldest of you three. “Chan, do you still have the pen I lent you earlier before you left? You said you needed to check attendance.”

“Oh yeah, as a matter of fact, I do,” he replied, fishing in his pocket for the said pen. “Here.”

You took it hastily, taking a deep breath before engaging in the one thing you had never thought you’d do in your lifetime. Flipping the cap open, you began to write down a couple of words on your arm.

“Hi, Felix. Please tell me when you see this. It’s really urgent. Chan, Yugyeom, and I are stranded in a grocery, phones dead. Could you come pick us up at XX Grocer with umbrellas?”

“What? How’s that supposed to help us? It’s not like the words will magically float off into cyberspace,” Yugyeom commented, confused.

Your cheeks began to feel warm. After casting a worried look to Chan, you shut your eyes and began to spill your secret.

“I-It’s…um… whatever I write on my arm will show up on Felix’s arm and vice versa,” you explained quietly, keeping your eyes fixated on your arms for any sign of response.

“Don’t tell me,” Yugyeom gasped, “he’s the one you’re soulmates with?!”

“She’s known since high-school,” Chan sighed, “but there are reasons as to why they’re not… you know. Together. [Y/N] doesn’t particularly like to talk about it.”

“No, it’s alright,” you waved it off, “I can tell you, just please don’t tell anyone. Um, actually, Felix and I used to be best friends, but some complicated things happened and we fought. After college, I went to Busan to try to start a new life, but in the end, I couldn’t escape him.”

“O-Oh, were you guys dating? Did he know you were here?” Yugyeom inquired, genuinely curious.

As the drops of rain started to pour around, you answered, “No, we never dated. And it’s all been purely coincidence. I didn’t know he was coming and neither did he. That’s why it was so difficult for us to interact when he first came.”

“Everything makes sense!” Yugyeom exclaimed, making an explosion gesture with his hands. “Wait, did he reply to your arm message?”

You looked down at you arm again and sure enough, the familiar chicken scratch writing appeared.

“I’ll be there in a bit. Stay dry! I’ll try to be as quick as possible.”

“Okay, good. We’re saved.” Chan let out a breath of relief.

In fifteen minutes, Felix was shuffling across the street towards you three, an umbrella in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Why’d you guys go so far? There was literally a convenience store right beside the place we’re staying at,” Felix questioned, unzipping his bag. “Here’s an extra umbrella.”

“Sir Bang—Chan… can I speak with you for a bit on the way home? There’s a bit of concern with one of the Marketing members and I need to discuss it with you,” Yugyeom piped up, grabbing the umbrella from Felix’s hands. “If you don’t mind, I’ll share this with Chan. It’s a personal matter.”

Chan didn’t even get a chance to object before he was pulled away by a swift Yugyeom, who began to babble about his concerns. You and Felix watched them mosey away, chattering about whatever was to be chattered about.

“Uh, let’s go?” Felix cleared his throat, holding the umbrella. You stepped in and began to walk back to the company outing’s venue.

For a while, all that could be heard was just the pitter-patter of the rain as you trudged on in silence. The quietness was so suffocating, you swear you could hear the cawing of a crow muffled beneath the sounds of the rain.

“Hey… you’re getting wet,” the freckled boy mentioned, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. He dropped his hand quickly after, opening his mouth to speak. “Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable to be so near me, but I just don’t want you to get wet.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. Thank you for being so considerate. And for picking us up.”

“It’s no problem, although this?” he said, riding up his jacket sleeve to expose the scribbles on his arm. “A message saying that you were stranded wasn’t exactly what I hoped your first ever arm message to me would be. I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I really wished you might’ve saved it to notify me that you brought rice cakes to work or something.”

A giggle escaped your lips as the thought entered your mind. “Well, sorry that an emergency message isn’t as cool as rice cakes. But now that you’ve expressed your sentiments, maybe I will bring rice cakes and use our connection to notify you.”

“I can’t believe you thought of contacting me that way. Couldn’t you have texted?”

“Well, Chan’s phone was left behind, Yugyeom hasn’t payed his bills, and mine’s dead. And even if mine wasn’t dead, I don’t have your number.”

“Ouch, you deleted my number after moving?”

“…I uh… got a new phone?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding you. It’s alright, I totally get it.”

Just as you arrived at the entrance of the recreation center, you halted your steps and turned to Felix.

For the first time in a very, very long time, you found the strength to look him in the eyes. “Uh… wait. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Hm?” He turned to you as well, matching your stare. Why were your legs feeling wobbly? Your palms were starting to sweat as well, and you cursed yourself for it. Speaking to Felix properly and serious was something you found extremely difficult to do, but you decided to stop acting like he was a disease you didn’t want to catch.

With a deep breath, you began, “So… it kinda felt nice to be able to talk to you again. You know, not about work. Just…normally. I guess, what I wanted to say was, uh, well, is it okay if we restart? Be friends, maybe? I really hate this discomfort between us, and I think it would be better, even for work, if we got along.”

Silence enveloped the air once again, leaving the both of you in the company of the rain and the passing cars. Thoughts of Felix lashing out and angrily speaking back to you flashed in your head; suddenly, you wanted to scurry off and never see his face again. What if he called you out on all the horrible things you’d done to him in the past? You braced yourself for anger, for rejection.

But instead, the boy in front of you broke into a grin. He even chuckled a little, reaching out his hand.

“Well, in that case,” he spoke, “hi. I’m Lee Felix, it’s nice to meet you. You can call me Felix.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “Hey, Felix. I’m [L/N] [Y/N], but feel free to just stick with [Y/N]. Friends?”

“Sure. Friends.”

--

Months after declaring the newfound restart, the budding flower of friendship began its ascent into full bloom. Often times, you asked your grandmother to make you some extra rice cakes to bring to work, that of which you shared with Felix. Sure enough, you kept your promise of notifying him through a small doodle of a rice cake on your wrist. You could have sworn you saw his eyes light up every time he noticed what was on his wrist. There were even nights that you two would stay behind to work on projects together, bringing snacks and drinks to keep you guys powered throughout the extra hours. Productivity rate in your team increased due to you and Felix’s hard work, and this did not go by unnoticed.

As he was passing by Felix’s desk, Chan couldn’t help but notice that Felix’s usually busy computer screen was shut off and that his freckled junior was staring intently at something in his hands. One look over his shoulder and Chan couldn’t help but smile.

He cleared his throat. “What’s that?”

The poor boy almost leaped out of his seat. Shoving the object behind his back, Felix responded, “What’s what?”

Chan motioned to Felix’s hands. “Whatever’s behind you.”

A trickle of sweat dripped down Felix’s clammy fingers. “Just a photo.”

“Ooh, can I see?” Chan pressed on, already knowing exactly what it is the boy held.

“N-No, hyung.”

“Come on. Don’t make me pull the superior card.”

“Fine!” Felix revealed the photo to the man in front of him, ears turning crimson. “Look, I found our graduation picture while rummaging through some of my old stuff, okay? It’s just got me thinking, like…I didn’t realize how much I missed [Y/N] over time. It seems like forever since we graduated high-school, and I still remember how it felt being her best friend. Sometimes, when I see her laugh with Yugyeom, I’m reminded of the times I used to be able to make her laugh like that. I don’t know, I sorta miss it, um, a lot.”

“Hold up, are you jealous of Yugyeom?” Chan raised a brow.

Felix hesitated, turning away. “Don’t phrase it like that, please.”

“Felix,” Chan started, breaking into a grin. “Do you like [Y/N]?”

“Is that so weird?” Felix huffed, burying his face in his arms. “I mean like, she’s my soulmate. But more than that, she’s a friend I really, really treasure. Like, I’ve been thinking about it and it would really suck if she wasn’t in my life. So I kinda came to the conclusion that okay, fine. When I talk to her, it’s not as much so to ask for rice cakes but to actually converse with her. And that I um, do like her. But honestly, between you and me?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a chance this whole ‘liking [Y/N]’ thing isn’t new news.”

--

Now Chan could only be relieved that his team members (namely you and Felix) were finally getting along well, but Yugyeom, on the other hand, would often sometimes send a wiggle of brows in your direction. Of course, this led you to throw crumpled balls of scratch paper at him, but deep down, you too were glad that the office became a more bearable workplace. You were more than thankful to have a good superior, good co-workers, and even a good boss.

On Tuesdays, you’d bring homemade lunch instead of buying from the office canteen. One fateful Tuesday noon, you stood up as soon as lunchbreak started and headed to the staff room to pick up your boxed lunch to heat it up in the microwave. On your way, you thought about handing some extra gimbap to Chan, Yugyeom, and Felix in gratefulness for being good to you. A smile made its way to your face as you entertained the thought, feeling appreciative and enthused that life had been looking up lately.

Just as you were about to open the door to the staff room, a familiar laugh rang in your eyes. Inside the room happened to be your freckled friend, smiling towards a female employee. You easily recognized her to be one of those PR scumbags, and once the realization hit that Felix was mingling with someone from that bloody department, your blood began to boil.

To make matters worse, you caught sight of him handing her what seemed to be a box—and that was all it took for you to storm into the staff room, take your lunch, and stomp outside in the direction of the canteen.

Once you got to your usual table, you plopped down in front of Yugyeom and hastily opened your lunch box.

“Woah there, tiger. What’s with the attitude?” Yugyeom asked, fiddling with his chopsticks. “Oh and by the way, Chan won’t be joining us. He’s in a meeting.”

“Felix is mingling with a girl from PR!” you huffed, stabbing a slice of gimbap and shoving it in your mouth. Between frustrated chews, you managed to sputter, “I’m so ticked off! He gave her a gift, or something!”

Yugyeom almost spit out his water. “What?! No way.”

“Yes way,” you nodded, wiping your mouth. “Saw them in the staff room being all friendly. I mean come on, ugh!”

“Hold on.” Yugyeom squinted his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

This time, it was your turn to almost spit out your water. “Excuse me? Yugyeom, you know how bad it is for someone to flirt with the enemy!”

“Yeah, but like, you sure you’re not just…I don’t know…pissed that Felix was flirting with someone who isn’t you?”

“The hell?” you hissed. “Felix does not flirt with me.”

Yugyeom sighed and rolled his eyes. “If that’s how you think, you are a lost cause, woman. When you write him notes or whatever on your wrist—which by the way, talk about cheesy!—his face lights up like a Christmas tree. And your banter as you do paperwork? Don’t get me started.”

“He gets excited because goodness knows Felix loves rice cakes more than anything. And office banter is nothing but what it is! What, I can’t argue about the better way to appeal to customers? What’s so romantic about different marketing topics? Seriously, do you know how un-sexy ‘Geographic Segmentation’ sounds? Anyway, I’m still upset that loverboy’s sucking up to PR. I mean, really?” you scoffed.

“Who’s sucking up to PR?” A deep voice came, startling you. When Felix took a seat next to you, you rolled your eyes and stood up. Petty, but absolutely necessary. You weren’t going to stand for anyone who mingled with PR. And just like that, you strut off towards your department, deciding that your table was the best place to eat lunch for now.

“I cannot even bear to see you guys sometimes,” Yugyeom exhaled, watching Felix try to comprehend what had just taken place in front of his eyes.

--

One entire week had passed since you started to act cold towards Felix, who had not a single clue what on earth was going on. Every time he tried to speak to you, you brushed it off with some lame excuse about having to think of the best way to brand the company’s latest product or that you were busy with paperwork.

“Chan, did I do something?” Felix questioned one Thursday, leaning on his superior’s desk. His face seemed to be clearly distraught by the furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Why? Did you do something?” Chan shot back, typing away at his laptop.

“I don’t know, man! [Y/N]’s been avoiding me like the plague. And she only does that if I do something wrong. Remember when I didn’t show up to our reunion in high-school? When you and the alumni hyungs wanted to hang at the amusement park but I didn’t go? Yeah, she wouldn’t talk to me because she was so upset,” Felix sighed, rubbing his temples. “This time, I don’t even know what’s up. And it sucks. I miss her rice cakes. It’s been a week.”

“Well, try to think of anything that you might’ve done to piss her off. Take her stapler? Send a late file?” Chan suggested, still not looking up from his screen.

“None of that! I swear, I blinked, and then she was mad. This is such bad timing because I want to ask her out for the holidays, and the break is starting soon. I don’t wanna end the year this way!” Felix whined, shoulders slumping.

“Thank me later,” Chan told him, raising his voice, “[Y/N]! Please come over here. There are some files to be looked over pronto!”

“Coming!” you replied, getting off your chair and walking to your superior’s table. But just as you came, he stood up and grabbed his clipboard.

“Actually, I have a meeting about now. But don’t worry, the file that needs to be looked over is—oh wow! Lee Felix.pdf is right here. Amazing. Love you both, see you at lunch!” With a grin, Chan sauntered off.

You folded your arms and tapped your shoes indignantly. “What, Felix?”

“I’m so sorry about Chan,” he apologized, rubbing his hands together. “But I do need to talk to you. Why have you been ignoring me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Felix. Maybe because someone was being all buddy-buddy last Wednesday with some girl from PR. I mean, are you even for real? How could you flirt with someone from PR?!”

“Wait… are you jealous?”

“Why does everybody automatically assume that I’m jealous?” you snapped. “The answer is no, you idiot! I’m angry because you were mingling with our rivals, our arch nemeses!”

When Felix remembers the events of last Wednesday, a laugh escapes his mouth. “W-What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. I clearly saw you being all generous and handing one of the PR girls a gift in the staff room. I have eyes, you know!”

“[Y/N]… no…” Felix started, trying to stifle more laughter. “I wasn’t flirting with her. That girl’s a family friend and I had to return a book that my mom borrowed from her mom. She told me that just because we’re family friends didn’t mean that her department would go easy on us. And I told her, ‘of course’, because I’m loyal to Marketing—I’m loyal to our team. Besides, I already have someone else in mind that I’d like to flirt with.”

You were taken aback. Somewhere deep in the crevices of your heart was a wave of relief mixed with disappointment, but you waved it off and let a giant smirk rest on your lips. “Woah, woah, woah, Lee Felix! Who’s the special someone?”

“Like I’d tell you, cheesebrain.”

“You suck.”

“No, not really. Anyway, you’re going back to Seoul for the break, right?”

“Oh yeah, why?”

“Wanna meet up on the 26th? I’m going home, too,” Felix invited.

“Oh shoot, yeah, sure! I’ll be sure to mark my schedule. I’m free that day anyway. What time to what time?”

“Just keep it flexible. I’ll text you or you know,” Felix motioned to his arm, “maybe I’ll write.”

“Just text me, I might accidentally wash it off.”

“See you then!”

--

The cold winter air was not the only thing that greeted you once you arrived back in Seoul, no. As soon as you set foot into the familiar gates of your home, your parents and relatives showered you with tight squeezes, slobbery kisses, and all sorts of questions. Were you eating properly? Did you have time to go Christmas shopping? How was work? Did you meet your soulmate yet? Was Busan better than Seoul, or Seoul better than Busan?

As much as you wanted to entertain your family with tales of Busan, settling in after a long travel sounded too good to pass. Once you spent an ample amount of time with them, you headed upstairs to your room.

Ah, your room. Upon opening the door, you took a whiff of the comforting scent of your original room, familiarity embracing you like an old friend. You flopped down on the fluffed-up sheets and could not resist a grin.

It was good to be home.

In a few hours, the grandfather clock in the living room would chime, signaling the start of a new day and the beginning of Christmas itself. But for now, you wanted nothing more but to put your mind at rest, leaving all thoughts of work behind at the doorstep. It was just you, your bed, and the chilly winter weather.

But someone—no, rather something—came to join your cozy trio, and it was right there in bright blue ink on your left wrist.

“Hey there. Get home safely?”

With a smile, you grabbed the gel pen in your bag and started to jot down a response.

“I thought you preferred text.”

“My head hurts and I don’t want to use my phone. I’m just resting in my room and hiding from my sisters, who won’t stop asking me about you.”

“Oh, so you’ve discussed me?”

“[Y/N], you never answered my first question.”

“Righty-o, Sir Lee. I did, indeed, come home fine with Grandma. It was fun to bring her home. The family’s stoked we’ve come.”

“Can I have permission to erase lines with wet wipes every few messages? My arm gets crowded. Also, please use a water-based pen. It makes it easier to wipe off.”

“Just text, then.”

“I deleted your number, too.”

“What the hell, Felix?”

“I’m kidding! See you on Kakao!”

--

“So, do I wear this sweater or this blouse? Kinda think the blouse is cute, but the sweater’s practical since the weather’s begging to freeze my butt,” you spoke into your laptop, which displayed a video of Chan furrowing his eyebrows as he took a look at your choices.

“You’re worrying too much. Just go with the sweater, it doesn’t make you look any less cute,” Chan snickered, “it’s so fun to watch my little [Y/N] put so much effort into this.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Just shut up and help me, Chan! Skirt, jeans, or leggings?”

“Skirt? Why would you even suggest a skirt? Damn, girl, you’re asking for frostbite at this point. Go with the leggings and make sure to wear leg warmers. Bring a thick coat, too.”

“Okay, mom. But are you sure this doesn’t make me look like a Christmas tree? Maybe a CHRISmas tree!”

Chan rolled his eyes and sighed. “It won’t be cute if your teeth are chattering and your skin begs to be kept warm. Just dress warmly. Hey, hey, what’s with the sigh?”

“Wait. Yo, yo, I just realized something. It’s just going to be me and Felix I think tomorrow. I-Is that a date or something? What if it is?!”

“Calm down. Did he say if it was or not?”

“I don’t know! He just said he was going to spend the day with me!”

A 480p-quality simper sat on Chan’s lips on the screen. “Are you scared because it might be a date or because he might just be asking you out as a friend?”

“I’m not SCARED, Chan! You know what, that’s honestly the least of my concerns!” you answered indignantly. “What if he stands me up? Remember the amusement park fiasco?”

“Relax, [Y/N]. He will NOT stand you up. Have you seen the way he’s been lately? Felix has been overtiming a lot, he’s always punctual and/or early for meetings, and he makes sure to go to all the places he’s assigned to. Whenever he can’t make it, he always messages a day or two in advance. I think that says something.”

“Okay, okay. You’re right. Anyway, I’m going to wash up and go to sleep. Thank you so much for taking the time to video chat me. I’m going to go now, merry Christmas! Say hi to unnie for me, please. Love you, bye.”

“Bye, [Y/N]! Good luck. Text me the details of it all! Merry Christmas. Love you too!”

--

Was it irregular to be having hands this clammy, to be having palms this sweaty? Felix pressed two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. Okay, great. It was good to know that he was still alive.

‘Agh! This is going to kill me! Please, please, please come soon,’ Felix thought, checking his phone for a new notification. Just in case, he rolled up his padded jacket’s sleeve and checked his arm. Both were devoid of any sign from you.

As if on cue, the freckled boy felt a tap on his back and there you were, bundled up in a cozy outfit. Holy. Crap. He had to fight the urge to squeeze you in his arms.

“H-Hey, [Y/N]. Glad you could make it.” Felix cleared his throat, offering his arm for you to hold. “Um, shall we? Have you eaten lunch?”

“Yeah, I have. You?”

“Same. Anyway, is there anywhere you want to go to?” Felix asked, starting to walk.

You squinted your eyes in thought. “Hmm… I don’t have anything particular in mind.”

“Alright, so it’s 2:45 now. I was thinking that maybe you wanna go to the old arcade? We can spend some time there, then maybe go around the area. Look at a museum if you want.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

--

Laughter filled the air as you clutched your stomach, trying to stop yourself from giggling too much. At this point, you were borderline gasping for air with every guffaw. Felix was doing the same, and he had to hold onto your shoulder to keep himself from stumbling onto the concrete ground.

“I can’t believe you did that, Felix! We could have gotten kicked out of the museum, damn it!” you commented between laughs. “I’m so embarrassed by you now!”

“Not my fault that the little kid wanted to see me bust some dance moves. Yugyeom isn’t the only one in Marketing who can dance, you know,” Felix answered, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Whatever, you doofus. What’s next? It’s pretty dark already, so maybe dinner?” you asked, checking your watch.

Felix cleared his throat and his back started to stiffen. “Actually, I have a place in mind.”

You nodded and proceeded to hail a taxi from the waiting stand. Felix whispered something to the driver and you were off, silently sitting in the backseat.

“Where are we going?”

“Shhh, you’ll see,” was all Felix managed to reply before he looked out the window thoughtfully.

As soon as you arrived at the mystery place, Felix payed the cab driver and helped you get out. When you stepped out of the car, your eyes widened. You’d recognize this area anywhere.

For a little, silence was all that was shared between you two as you walked alongside the riverbank, the one place you knew had a special space for in your heart. Back then, this had been you and Felix’s favorite spot to go to after a tiring school day. And on one fateful December 26th, you were back, walking beside him once again.

The frigid wind left you to huddle a little closer than usual to Felix, who didn’t seem to mind. Gentle brushing of the hands led your fingers to intertwine with his, locking safely in his cozy yet sweaty palms; you could only hope he would not hear the erratic beating of your heart pounding against your ribcage with every passing second. This was happening, this was happening, this was happening—and oh dear, you didn’t dislike it.

A few minutes seemed like eternity with Lee Felix. But eternity wasn’t going to cut it for the scene that lay in front of you, the scene he had brought you to.

Sitting on the riverside was a small tent lit dimly by the soft glow of fairy lights, a sight you’d only managed to conjure up in your head once, long ago. But there it was, every bit of it as real as the warm feeling of Felix’s hands in yours.

Your lips parted. “F-Felix, is this…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, leading you to the small tent and helping you take a seat inside. “Uh, there’s some soju in that cooler and some gimbap over there if you want. And japchae. Chopsticks are here.”

“When did you have the time to even prepare this? I swear, you’ve been with me all day,” you questioned, reaching for the chopsticks as Felix cracked open the plastic container of gimbap.

He smiled. “Oh, I called for help from people I know who’d never pass up the chance to aid in this surprise.”

You gasped. “Let me guess. Hyunjin? Jisung? Seungmin, Jeongin?”

He gave you thumbs-up. “My boys.”

“Our boys,” you corrected, shoving a piece of kimbap in your mouth.

A few gimbaps and bites of japchae later, you found yourselves in silence once again, sipping soju from little paper cups.

“So…I think this is the part where I start talking,” Felix began, wiping his mouth. He directed his gaze right at your eyes.

“I hope you liked the little surprise, [Y/N]. Even though… technically… it wasn’t my idea, but yours. Actually, the reason I brought you here was because it’s finally time for me to give something to you, very, very long overdue,” he continued, “when we were in highschool, I didn’t expect us to become friends. Frankly, I though that I annoyed you every time I talked to you at the 4419 bus stop. Remember when we first had a proper conversation? Man, after that, the ball just speeded downhill. Before I knew it, we were an inseparable duo. [Y/N] and Felix. Felix and [Y/N]. Hell, I remember getting poked fun at for it, and people were teasing me that I liked you. Which… honestly, I’ve come to realize…was true. I admit, they were right. It’s actually kind of weird, I’ve only known since recently that I caught some real, big feelings for you back then.”

Here Felix paused to take a sip of water before he went on. “I haven’t forgotten the first time I found out my soulmate link. Blue ink, wrist, all-caps: ‘STUDY’. When I found out that a girl from our school had a similar link, I almost freaked out. But honestly? I only started to flirt with her to um—wow, this is embarrassing—make you jealous. Childish, right? And after a while, ironically, it backfired. ‘Cause I started to like her. Anyway, fast forward, college, right? We all know what happened… then what happened after graduation. I lost you. My soulmate, but most importantly, my best friend. It was the worst because I lost you, and I could have avoided that,” he sighed, “and so here we are. Somehow, life has given us a second chance, and I don’t want to screw this up. So [Y/N], I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry that I did so many stupid things in the past, I’m sorry that I was an awful best friend, I’m sorry that I didn’t fight harder to keep you in my life. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“Felix,” you piped up suddenly, “Look, I’m sorry too. I think it’s a failure on both parts because really, maybe if I wasn’t so selfish, we could have avoided the whole fight. I didn’t know you were willing to wait for me until, you know, then. I’ve blamed myself a lot for that, but I’ve come to realize that you know what? It’s alright to make mistakes, and I forgive myself for doing that. And if I can forgive myself, I can forgive you. When we decided to restart our friendship, honestly, I was more than relieved to hear you were on board for it as well. So, can we agree to put all our mistakes in the past?”

“Yes. I’d love that. Man, thank you so much, [Y/N], for giving me another chance. I, too, forgive you for everything. And I’m so glad that you’re back in my life.”

“Aw, come here,” you grinned, opening your arms for a hug. Felix wrapped his arms around you tightly, and for a while, that’s how you two stayed.

“Wait, I’m actually not done,” Felix announced, pulling away. As he opened his mouth to speak, his hands started to shake a little bit.

“Oh?” You tilted your head to the side, curious as to what the boy would say next.

“I can’t promise you that I won’t make any more mistakes in the future, but for what it’s worth, I’ve learned from the past. And if anything, anything, happens that causes me to stumble and hurt you, I’m willing to put up a fight to make it right. I can’t promise you that the future holds all flowers and sunshine, but if there’s one thing that I am absolutely, terribly sure of, it is that [Y/N]?”

“Mm?”

“I’m in love with you.”

All you could hear was the faint howling of the wind as you were rendered absolutely speechless. It took minutes to process the words Felix had just spoken, and when you managed to grasp the idea of it, all you could sputter out was, “Really?”

Felix nodded. “Yes. Really.”

“I’ve waited since third-year of highschool for you to say that,” you admitted, mustering all your strength not to smile. “So, can I…kiss you?”

“Yes, yes you can,” he answered, leaning in.

So, slowly, surely, you kissed him. You let the gentle caress of his lips speak for themselves as they locked with your own, causing your heart to beat fervently in your chest. It may have been short, chaste even, but one kiss was all it took for you to confirm the vehemence that had been lurking deep down in the crevices of your entire being.

“I’m sorry that this isn’t as grand as you’d hoped. I remember you told me that you wanted big sparks to fly when you met your soulmate,” Felix laughed nervously, taking the opportunity to rest his hand on top of yours.

You shook your head. “No, I’m glad that it’s you, and I’m glad that this is how it turned out.”

Perhaps if it had been another day in another place at another time, you’d say that loving Lee Felix was quite full of irony. But since you were here, at this specific moment on this specific day in this specific place at this specific time, you could truly and sincerely say that there was nothing ironic about it, that there was nothing paradoxical about loving Lee Felix.

There was only bliss. There was only certainty.

#staydata #sk-writersnet #skzwriters #stray kids imagines #stray kids #skz #felix #lee felix #stray kids scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #bang chan #woojin #lee know #lee minho #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #jisung #seungmin #i.n. #jeongin

[papirouge]

it's me again! thanks for your very deep and interesting answer. I hope you'll fully enjoy your rest, you really deserve it! what you wrote about the pain following a "wrong" path hits close to home... you are brave enough to realize what you really like, what you might be good at, and so on. As you said, one must be humble and accept it. I am sure He'll help you 😊 I'll hope you'll enjoy your journey to Japan as well! Take your time, we'll be here waiting for your next projects!

BTW congrats for your art contest! 🎉 OC means Original characters (I guess), I've read that on some other art blogs, and I'm pretty sure you have your own original characters according to old posts on your Tumblr ☺️ actually my lack of knowledge about media for illustrators is awful, I am so sorry 🙄 but I guess you won't suffer from pressure if you post your comics on smackjeeves. You deserve all the support bc you are talented and really brave!! 🌸🌼🌸

Honestly I’m seriously wondering what I did to ever get such a lovely anon! 😭 I’ve basically spent years on Tumblr barely getting any asks and THERE I suddenly get the support I desperately needed in those challenging times..!!! I have no idea how to properly reply to such attention.... THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!!!!😭💗💗💗

Yes OC means “original character”. Those characters are like part of my family...on the imaginary world realm, hehe! 💫 My story is so old but it roughly remained the same actually. Somehow, I often think that if I didn���t feel compelled to make this story I wouldn’t be drawing at all. Art and story making go hand in hand to me. And after I conclude this one, I might retire from illustrating (again) altogether since I’m not a very imaginative person (it’s pretty hard for me to come up with new original compelling story ideas) - but who knows, I might actually come up with new ideas along the way by the time I finish this one. HOWEVER, I shouldn’t build castle in the air since I didn’t even begin anything yet..!! lol

You know, I’m pretty much out of the loop too when it comes to the illustrator scene. It’s been almost 10 years since I left this scene so I guess I’m oblivious to a bunch of new poppin’ hot things happening out there.

@wonder-kya gave me some tips concerning comic websites. My biggest struggle is competition & demotivation, and since I’m definitely NOT a very competitive person, I often felt heavily discouraged about my own abilities compared to amazing artists, so I’m adamant in choosing a media where I’m comfortable and not feeling peer pressured in any way. I’ll seriously inspect those websites once I’m ready to publish something and choose the one I'm the most comfortable with. I might open a side insta page too...but I'm not sure if I'm willing to spend anymore time on social medias (Tumblr is the one where I'm the most active. My Pinterest is mostly for "professional" purpose (inspi/moodboards), and I'm pretty much inactive on Instagram where I'm mostly lurking & FOMOing witnessing people enjoying the best of their lives LOL I wish I'd spend less time out there dwelling myself into this toxic energy 😓)

Again, I’d like to thank you sweet Anon, cause although it’s internet and nobody truly knows each other and that things are virtual, it TRULY, DEEPLY, PROFOUNDLY touches me that someone, out there on this planet, took some time off their day to send me such sweet and encouraging messages (they impacted me so much they got me back at writing my script lol - I’m currently halfway through the characters’ storylines). This sweet energy you're sending out to me is VERY real, so from the bottom of my heart: Thank You💖.

I’ll remember your last sentence next time I’m feeling like an utter failure...

You’re like an Angel God sent on my way..... Thank you soooo muchhhh~ 💖💖💖

#I STG AN ANGEL SENT ME THIS #answered

[elliotwarren]

🎊 happy birthday gabriel adams! 🎊 

It was always his eyes that people noticed first. Well. That was a lie. If they got past his skin color, the way his fingers dug into his arms, the soft whispers to invisible things, it was his eyes. Silver, Meg always said, making him sound something special. Gabriel let a smile tweak his features and brushed dark, messy hair off his forehead. That was just as pointless as correcting Meg. 

all art pictured was commissioned by me and are not free to use. feel free to dm me for specific credits. 

I’m about to unpack a lot of shit and get way more intimate with everyone on this blog than I have previously, so I hope you’re mentally prepared for this. It’s going to be a hard read, but I’ve been wanting to talk about this stuff for a long time. 

so almost every year I try to talk about my oldest character, Gabriel. This year, I wanted to dig a little deeper, and address myself as a writer. Within the last couple of years, I’ve had to own up to some shit with this character. I was a bad writer.

“No, Elliot, you weren’t bad! You were just - “

No folks, I’m not discussing my skill as a writer. I’m specifically addressing my treatment of people, representation, and stereotypes.

I was a shitty person.

cw for ableism, discussion of own health, suicide mention, drug use in a fictional character, and general shitty handling of mental illness. 

I’m not super positive Gabriel started as Gabriel. The earliest I remember him was a novel I wrote my Freshman year - in 2006ish. I think I vaguely remember him existing as a something earlier on in middle school, but nothing concrete until later. My first ever novel! It was exactly 100 pages, front and back, written in black pen. It was a blatant rip off of an Anne Rice novel where vampires took over a city and killed and ate them in their court. I don’t even remember if that was actually the plot, but I do remember it being Anne Rice inspired, which is a whole other problem altogether. Towards the end of the novel, I asked my friends in choir class to check off next to character names to decide who died. 

I think 3 out of 45 characters made it out alive. Also there were 45 characters. Many of them had scenes from their POV. Yeah. 

Gabriel wasn’t the protagonist then, and he rarely has been until the last handful of years. He was just an edgy probably vampire guy who appeared at random with cryptic warnings, who periodically would get the protagonist out of trouble while also existing as a side antagonist. He did survive - although barely. 

Later, I had the super unique wild idea to make him ‘crazy’. I took to roleplay forums, where other teenagers I barely knew told me that my writing was good and my character was interesting, and I plagued them with my edgy, cool, sometimes serial killer character that all the girls were into. Sometimes the guys, which I was cool with - after all, I had a lesbian couple as a friend in high school. You know, I was tolerant. 

Made you uncomfortable yet? Me too. 

Gabriel was the troubled white boy who heard voices and saw ghosts, somehow got by as a homeless teenager, and sometimes he killed people but it was definitely not his fault. He went on to win character of the month on a forum based around experimental testing inside an asylum. I was ecstatic. I took him everywhere, and people loved him. Not one person called me out. Not a one. 

My freshman year of college, I joined a group on deviantart, where talented artists I’d admired from a distance were glad to have a rare writer, and after making a nervous start with another character I stepped in with Gabriel. The group was entirely based around the story line, as well as critique and self-improvement. I was ecstatic. 

With the assistance of a roleplay partner - now my roommate - I went on to finish my first novel in years, with Gabriel as one of two protagonists. I still have it, somewhere, printed out in a binder. Pretty sure I left it at a friend’s house. It featured Gabe, and my roommate’s character, after Gabriel ‘accidentally’ almost killed her because of the voices and kidnapped her to his apartment in an attempt to fix his mistake. The novel ended with Gabriel realizing he was an idiot, and heavily implied that he killed himself via morphine, which he was also somewhat addicted to for no apparent reason.

At some point in the mess, I down spiraled. I was upset and miserable and something in my brain finally cracked. I’d been dealing for years what I later learned to be chemical depression, but a specific event in my life caused a complete and total meltdown. I stopped writing. I was constantly making posts to tumblr rather than talking to anyone about how I wanted to kill myself. I stopped going to class, stopped seeing people, and my roommate at the time heard me crying at night more than once. I was completely devastated, and I will never forgive that person. 

Later, I made a bigger mistake and lost someone very close to me. In the last couple of years I’ve come to terms that I was definitely in love with her. I can never repair that damage. I snapped, for awhile, and became obsessive and gross and just a really shitty person. 

I eventually realized college and the situations were killing me, and after 4 and a half years - so close to graduating, everyone said, not realizing I’d failed most of my classes - I made the decision to drop. I moved in with my old college roommate, bummed around their house, and intended to go back to work at a summer camp like I did every year. Except I got fired, for essentially being too old and likely for budget reasons, as I made more than everyone else there. 

Obviously this was really good for my mental health.

Somewhere during the mess I started taking a look at self improvement, and turned back to writing. More specifically, what I was doing wrong. The more I wrote the more I started looking into developing Gabriel as a character, with an actual background I wasn’t making up to seem edgy as I hopped from forum to forum, and I started looking into how to write him accurately.

And I mourned all that time and all the damage I did and how many people who probably silently put up with my shit. 

I spent years writing Gabriel as this deranged, unhinged being who hurt other people. Now I try to make up for it - I spend extensive time reading articles on mental illness, specific case studies, listening to interviews and doing my best to soak up every little detail I can. 

Gabriel is schizophrenic, primarily experiencing mild visual hallucinations and occasional auditory hallucinations, typically in times of stress. He does not kill people - if he does, it has nothing to do with his mental health and more to do with that, once again, Gabriel is a vampire. Like me, he copes with depression and anxiety, born of a situation. I shifted Gabriel from being a shitty, ‘crazy’ white boy to a nervous, wary young man dealing with some shit that no one should have to deal with. I researched therapy, and coping mechanisms, and even found some that help me with my issues. I created Jamie, Gabriel’s psychiatrist and friend. I decided to cut some of the mayo out of my work and made Gabriel’s mother an immigrant from Mexico, and it’s been worth it! I get to research a fascinating, fun culture, and it has improved Gabriel as a character to have a culture. 

I realized, at some point, that I’m asexual - and Gabriel is too. I’ve put a lot of myself into him. It’s been therapeutic, and I feel better about Gabriel as a character. 

There’s been a lot of change over the years. Gabriel is an entirely different person, and it has greatly affected and I think improved my writing. More than anything, it has changed my outlook on everything, and I hope that some day I can some how make up for all the damage I did with presenting him the way I did. People with schizophrenia are no more likely to hurt or kill someone than anyone else, and many if not most serial killers are just shitty entitled white people. Like me. 

It’s been a long time - at least 12 years, if not more. I’ve changed a lot. Gabriel has too. I hope that the next 12 years let me finally finish telling a story about him, and that the world as a whole stop tip toeing around mental illness. I wish someone had told me 12 years ago that making someone ‘crazy’ wasn’t cool or neat or unique, and that I was a super toxic, harmful person. 

I’m never going to be writing a story about what it’s like to live and cope with mental illness. While I deal with it, it’s not really my story to tell. I’m never going to tell a tale about what it’s like to be the son of a Mexican immigrant in shitty white america. That’s not my job either. I might tell the story of being a queer asexual, because that definitely applies to me. But Gabriel is a vivid person to me, and I’m glad I’ve learned proper representation. I’m sure I’ll still make mistakes, and I keep waiting for someone to call me out on something. I wish someone had. I wish someone had said, hey, if your protagonist is also the villain and the only mentally ill person in the story, you’re a bad writer and you should feel bad.

That’s your personal call out, if it applies. I hope not. 

Don’t be afraid of representation of the ‘touchy’ subjects. But do right by them. Talk to people from those situations, read stories by people from those situations whether it’s relevant or not, watch interviews, see movies. If you can’t do right by a culture or an illness or a person, that’s okay. But take a step back, work hard, and just go for it. Don’t be afraid to ask for opinions, critique, help. 

Please. Learn from your mistakes. 

I talked a whole fucking lot and if you read all of it, you’re a star. Good night.

#writeblr #writing #character development #gabe tag #about me tag #ok to reblog i GUES #s

[leftwriteb]

Retail Tales [Part 2] - When Nintendo Fans Turned Detective On Me

In the run up to the release of the Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, Nintendo fans were working themselves up into such a state that it was almost dangerous. A few days before the game was due to be released, the stock arrived at our store. Thinking nothing of it and eagerly awaiting the chance to play it in a WiiU I had borrowed from my brother for no other reason, I posted a little tease in anticipation of the game on my Instagram. What a mistake that was. 

As you can see from the photo above, it was a pretty harmless image. From the attached caption on my post you’d assume it was fairly obvious I hadn’t acquired a copy myself and was simply eagerly waiting for those last few days to tick by so I could pick up from where I’d left off at the event I’d been lucky enough to attend a few months prior. I, like so many others, could not wait to see more of Breath of the Wild.

Except, to those without the right context, this post could have been (and indeed was) misconstrued to the point where you might think I’d acquired a copy early. I still argue it’s unlikely, but you could see how someone could make that mistake. As I left for my lunch break at work that day I had no idea how many people would assume exactly that, and how quickly the post would explode and circulate. I came back from my lunch to find over 100 notifications. Nintendo fanatics had found me. 

At the time of the post, as well as at the time of writing, I was working at a videogames store and understandably our stock for the game had arrived a few days earlier to ensure delivery upon release and so we could allocate our preorders with time to spare. Staring at the stacks of games on Switch and WiiU, I could feel the excitement getting to me. What was the harm in posting a little photo to help try and ease that enthusiasm? Well let’s look at what happened in the course of a few hours and then the few days that followed. Naturally, most of the comments and notifications were tied to the Instagram post itself. 

Things started off nice enough: a few messages from fans just as excited as myself. Nicer still was a friend request from some other Nintendo fan. Then you have the understandable enquiries about where I’d got the game from, this being maybe three days before the game was supposed to be on store shelves. Then, as you can see, things started to be cranked up a notch. Fans, if you want to call them that anyway, began asking me to use the WiiU disc I supposedly had in my possession to upload the files and game content online, allowing people to datamine and potentially pirate the game early. It’s not hugely surprising given the intense furore some people were getting into before the release, but what really struck me was how quickly these comments had surfaced. In only a matter of minutes someone had found my post and made the request.

And once the first ticket dump request came in, further requests followed. The same chap that had asked about where I’d apparently got a copy had followed things up to further stress the importance of helping them out. Before a third request had come in, a delightful chap had decided to go the route of name calling because I’d somehow angered him by not complying, despite my lack of comments altogether. While I deny the claims I’m a “moralfag”, he was right in that I wouldn’t have uploaded all the files even if I had the option to. Of course, this was followed up by a little damage control from another fan in an attempt not to dissuade me from helping them all out.

I chose not to comment on any of it. Perhaps it would have been easier just to set the record straight but, in the interest of both my job and my curiosity, I remained quiet. I wasn’t able to upload the files because I didn’t have the game yet. Even if I had, doing so would have been a huge mistake and would have meant stealing from my place of work. On top of that, if I had done so and gotten away with it I would have likely faced consequences from Nintendo because doing so would’ve been flagged so quickly. And, on top of all of this, I didn’t want to betray the team of developers and other staff who had worked so hard on the game. To have put years of time and effort into a project only to have all its secrets leaked early in such a seedy way, without the right context no less, would have been a huge disservice to them and gamers around the world.

But nope, it didn’t end there. I was never even considering doing what they had asked but when I served these fans a dead end, they decided to build the pressure further. As the Instagram well ran dry, I then received a good few messages on my Twitter profile like the one below.

Somehow this little post had ended up becoming a topic of discussion on 4Chan. This warning was arguably maybe a little overblown, I thought. It was a little weird to think that, out of everything, my little post had somehow gained traction online and there was very little more I could expect, as far as I could tell. The logical conclusion was that some fans were a little obsessive and with my Instagram and Twitter accounts both using the same handle, it didn’t exactly take a genius to find my Twitter profile. There were a few extra steps needed if they wanted to bombard me further and these were steps they evidently were happy to take.

Mulling it over, I’m pretty sure I figured out the path these fans took to message me elsewhere and while it’s not exactly tricky it is still a little alien to me that many people took time out of their day to try and get hold of me just in the slim chance I’d help them get access to a game only a few days early. My Twitter contained a link to what was the predecessor to this site; a Tumblr blog. This blog got a good handful of messages just like those previously, asking me to lend them a hand on their misguided adventure.

On this blog was a link to a social area that linked people to my usernames on various gaming platforms. Once they’d found this page, they than began messaging me on Xbox Live, PSN, Steam, DeviantArt and more. No matter what avenue was available, they made sure pretty much every account I had would have messages, requests and (in one instance anyway) slightly vulgar voice messages. Call it passion, obsession or toxicity, it was all a little weird. Thankfully there was some positivity sprinkled within there too!

By the end of it all I’d amassed around 120 notifications across various platforms. Most of which were in the space of the first few hours but the odd one would pop up in the remaining days before the release. This, of course, doesn’t include any other areas I don’t know about; I never investigated 4chan and, for all I know, talk of it may well have spread to Reddit or NeoGaf forums as well. I don’t quite know the extent of how far it spread other than the information available to me and maybe I don’t want to know.

The release of the game came and went and the whole thing slipped to the wayside, but it was an eye-opening moment and one that’s stayed with me since. Random people across the globe effectively stalked me, in a way. Bizzare.

So there you have it. In the space of a few hours I’d had lord knows how many strangers bombard me with messages and demands, all because they had wrongly assumed something. In an age where reviewers and developers are bombarded with harassment, it’s easy to see how something as little as this can spread, let alone something far more large in scale and scope. It’s interesting really given that it’s hard to tell what motives were in play; greed, intrigue, jealously, excitement, or something else. All I know is that some Nintendo fans and Zelda fans don’t mind turning detective if it means they might get their hands on the tiniest slithers of a Nintendo product early. Nice try, folks. It’s a good thing I never said anything when Nintendo let us buy their last Super Smash Bros. game early back in 2014. Sitting in college playing that before it was released sure was fun…

#nintendo #game #early #detective #stalk #stalking #weird #behaviour #track #trace #toxic #fan #fanbase #retail #tales #zelda #botw #breath of the wild #wild #link #wiiU #swtich #switch #hyrule #gamer #games #gaming #loz #LoZ #leftwriteb

[jadelyn]

No one is entitled to anyone else's success story

A lot of the "tumblr is anti-recovery" panic and moralizing is based around the idea that it's "dangerous" to younger people with MIs/chronic illness to see all us Bitter Old Crazies making jokes about NT Advice(tm) and acting like we're never gonna get better. And tbh it strikes me as similar to the recent moral panic about adult or triggering content in fandom spaces. Think of The Children! they cry. You're Being a Bad Influence!

But here's the thing. Nobody is entitled to someone else's success story. Kids with MIs do not have some kind of right to see adults with MIs successfully coping, and in the inverse, it's not our responsibility to hide our unsuccessful coping away from where impressionable kiddos might see it and be discouraged by it.

First of all, not everyone has a success story. Not everyone gets better. People might be able to improve, or they might not. And by classifying people who acknowledge their circumstances as being the best they're likely to get as "anti-recovery", you're literally trying to silence mentally ill people from talking about their own lives and experiences, just because you don't like to hear about it.

But even for those of us who do have success stories - like, I'm one of those. I dropped out of college and spent the first 10 years of my adult life living with partners and family, relying on others, driving a 20-year-old clunker of a car which I literally had to duct-tape pieces back onto sometimes, trying to work retail and temp jobs to get by when I could, but I never could hold anything down very long. About 5 years ago, I finally got treatment - meds, specifically, bc I'd had on and off therapy that only helped a little bit - for my depression. As of this year, I have graduated college with a 4-year degree, bought a newish car (10 yrs old sports car in good condition), held down a single job in my desired career field for almost 4 years, and I bought a house with my partner earlier this year. You couldn't ask for a more solid recovery story than that.

But, and this is key: I don't owe anyone the inspiration of my story. Existing in public as an adult who's turned my life around despite severe chronic mental illness doesn't obligate me to serve as a good example or role model to others with MIs. I often choose to take on that role, but it's a choice, and if I chose instead to keep it to myself, or to publicly vent my bitterness over the decade of life I've lost because of my illness, or vent my frustration with the useless NT advice I tried to follow and use to "fix" myself (to no avail) before finally getting proper treatment, then that's my right. This is my blog, my space, I'll tag things appropriately but I refuse to censor myself from talking about the reality of my mental illness, and if you don't wanna hear my negativity you know where to find the unfollow button.

And in fact, the responsibility in this situation lies not with the people talking, but with the people listening.

When I was in college and for a bit thereafter, I was part of a depression and mental illness forum. I don't remember the name of it anymore, but I spent time on it then like I spend time on Tumblr now. Talking with people, posting and replying. And a lot of it, as one might expect for a gathering of people with depression of varying degrees of severity and treatment resistance, was really negative.

And that was a space that helped and supported me for a good number of years. I could open up about my suicidal thoughts and urges to self-harm. I could receive caring and understanding from people who were like me, who never made me roll my eyes with Pollyanna-ish platitudes or offered empty sentiment to inspire "hope". If I felt hopeless, I could just fucking say that, could act like it. I didn't have to perform positivity for anyone or hide my struggles.

But there came a time, eventually, when I began to find the level of negativity to be harmful for me rather than helpful. I had changed, and I needed something different.

So you know what I did?

I didn't go around the forum and start telling people they were being too negative.

I didn't try to force people to perform hopefulness and positivity because it would be more beneficial for me personally.

I didn't scold people or accuse them of hindering my recovery.

I

Fucking

Left.

I left that forum. I said goodbye to my friends, gave people my offsite contact information, and I stopped visiting that forum altogether. Because I had reached a point in my recovery where that environment had gone from helpful to harmful, for me personally. So I took responsibility for my own recovery and my own progress, and I made the decision to move on and find the kind of environment that would be good for me at that point.

It's not quite so neat and discrete here on Tumblr, since so many people have personal blogs and reblog a variety of types of content, sometimes adding their contribution, sometimes not. Unless you strictly and only follow topic-specific blogs, you'll be exposed sometimes to things you didn't quite sign up for.

But even here, you're still responsible for you user experience. You have tools you can use. Blacklist certain tags or phrases or topics. Unfollow or block specific individuals. Do what you need to do, in order to create an environment on your dash that is healthy for you and meets your needs.

And that is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. Yours. Not mine, not anyone else's. We are not responsible for creating an environment that meets your mental health needs. We are individuals who are allowed to talk shit and piss and moan about our lives on our own goddamn blogs if we want to. Which includes making morbid jokes, mocking shitty advice that we've received from NT people that was anywhere from useless to actively harmful, talking openly about our limitations, being honest about our hopes for recovery or lack thereof, and complaining about the relentless positivity that demands we continue to aspire to a NT model of Recovery(tm) even when we know damn well that's not a possibility for us.

You're not entitled to anyone else's success story for inspiration. If you want to hear success stories and positivity, find people who post that stuff and leave us Bitter Old Crazies the fuck alone.

#Depression #mental illness #recovery #Anti-recovery discourse

[porcelaindagger]

since this won’t show in the tags from the actual blog

After speaking with some people privately, I had been under the impression that I had been doing a good enough job keeping my head down, minding my own business, and not making a fuss, but it’s evident that this is not the case. I have been back in the community for about a year now as Elle, and since then I have made every effort to use this new alias as an opportunity to turn over a new leaf, make a new start, and be an unobtrusive and altogether quiet presence in the community. I came back simply to write – not to make a fuss or make waves, and I was open and honest about my identity and my past mistakes with those who came to me to ask, and have a small group of people who know that I am Beth, who have known for quite some time now. It was not my intention to “fool” anyone by returning under a different alias, but to exercise the change that I’d implemented in my own life and to show both myself and those who I’d so horribly hurt in the past that I have changed, and that it is possible for people to change for the better. I think the fact that I’ve flown under the radar until now is decent proof that I am not the person I was a year ago; a year ago, I would have gone absolutely nuts in the face of the PSA that’s floating around, and I would have lashed out with irreparable damage – we all saw it happen last time, and it’s because of that that I was so determined not to do it this time. I understand completely why people would not want to be close to me given what I’ve done in the past; I lied, I talked about people behind their back, I pretended to be someone else to hide from what I’d done, I spread slanderous lies about someone who had been nothing but a dear friend to me, and I kept that same friend’s group from receiving the love and praise it deserved simply because I was bitter, paranoid, and malicious in my mindset. I was in a horrid place and going through a downward spiral in which I could not recover from – and though I knew I could not recover, I lashed out and pulled people down with me simply because it was the only option my toxic mindset gave me. I wrecked people who I’d considered family, who’d followed me through hell, high water, and two roleplay groups which ended with my complete meltdown. It was all building up from mistakes I’d made, even before that – in 2013, I copied things from a drabble someone had written; in 2015, I encouraged a friend to write a PSA about another friend simply because I felt that they were drifting from me, and I was so selfish and paranoid that I just couldn’t handle it. I was immature, and felt as if I didn’t have to own up to my mistakes, but as I see the error of hiding from this all and hoping that it’ll just blow over, I think that it’s time for me to put it out there. I was Wesley, I was Beth, and this blog was supposed to be Elle – the new leaf. Elle would never start a positivity blog, only to filter the messages; Elle would never send nasty messages; Elle would never vague blog; Elle would never strongarm someone out of playing the same character; and Elle would certainly never steal, though Beth once thought she could get away with it, and owned up to it.

In my personal life, the last semester has been an absolute trainwreck, and this blog, in my own corner with a small collective of people who I’d told, and in the roleplay groups that I’d chosen to join, was an oasis, and I am incredibly proud of the progress and of the changes that I’ve made in my life, as reflected by my unobtrusive and quiet presence in the RPC. I’ve done my best to be nothing but positive – and those who I’ve found myself close to can attest to that. I never thought of this attempt at a positive new start as an attempt to “trick” anyone with friendship and kindness, and I am so sorry that it’s come across as that, or as anything even remotely underhanded. I hoped that by being Elle and by starting over I could somewhat start to make right the wrong I’d done when I was Beth, and by being kind to those I’d wronged in any way I could, I thought that I was. I never intended for any of this to become a question of lies, victim shaming, or anything of the sort – I was just trying to keep my head down, and mind my own business. I’d even become close friends with one of the people I’d wronged in the past, proving to them that I’d changed before they even knew who I was, and I spoke to another, leaving things on what I assumed was a peaceful note. Perhaps it was a mistake to apply for a character that I’d played so often while I was using my old alias – but I never thought that it would start the wildfire that it did, since I’d been nothing but supportive in doing it. If anyone would like to message me privately, and not anonymously, to discuss the things that I have done, I would be more than willing to do so openly and frankly at my new url, which was created not to hide but to post fandom content rather than rp content without clogging up anyone’s dash.

I do, however, wish to address the claims of plagiarism that have been floating around, as this may be the only chance I have to do so. I understand that everyone’s concerns have merit; I have been a horribly sketchy person in the past, but the claims that are going around now are ones I hold issue with, and I’d like to address them here. Firstly, I’ll start with the claim that I plagiarized an OC from the group I used to run, Fidite Nemini. The character in question is named Holly – I don’t even remember the OC’s last name. A wonderful OC, written by a wonderful person; perhaps the best OC I ever had the pleasure of writing with. But the fact that I also have two characters named Holly is now being called plagiarism, and with this I take issue. First, I have Holly Blanchard, named as such for Holly Golightly. I’ll link her biography HERE. Second is a character in another roleplay that I ran named Holly Gilmore, who was named as such for the plant reference, and because I was going through a heavy Gilmore Girls phase at the time of writing her. Her bio is HERE. I cannot link you to the bio of the OC simply because I deleted the Fidite Nemini main and have no way of finding it. I don’t know where it is, I don’t know what her last name is; the only similarities between these characters is the fact that they’re named Holly and that they’re generally nice, sweet people. I can see how, upon first glance, having a character named Holly might raise some eyebrows, but upon actually reading the bios, it is quite clear that there is no other overlap.

I was also accused of stealing things from the person who played Bellatrix in my group – I cannot link anything here since the Fidite Nemini main has been deleted, but I used, in applying for a Marauders group recently, the bio that I, as an admin, had written as a jumping off point for an application. I’d gone through the old player’s blog to find the biography that I’d written since the main was deleted and I hadn’t saved anything for my own use, and I understand how that must have looked, but had I not deleted everything I could when I left Tumblr the first time. I’d be happy to dig through my google docs and link the application that I’d written up in this post, but I regrettably cannot access the Fidite Nemini bio anymore, or I would. The person who played Bellatrix at Fidite Nemini is, without question, one of the greatest writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of collaborating with, and I must say that it would be very obvious had I stolen from them, as their writing truly stands alone.

I would now like to address the claims that I stole a fair bit of characterization from the user who wrote the PSA about me. I’ll start by saying that yes, I did pin a few of their pins on Pinterest (but I went to a lot of Pinterest boards to create my own), and we have reblogged some of the same things – were I to remain a large presence in the RPC, I would make a point not to reblog musing from anywhere but inspo blogs to avoid this. But I must raise some issue with the claim that I stole a headcanon about sunflowers, a headcanon about running/athleticism, and a FC. I use flower symbolism in a fair number of my applications and characters, and this particular headcanon was written when I read the ProFlowers description of what sunflowers meant (in fact, at the time I was buying flowers for my grandmother, whose birthday I had forgotten, and thought sunflowers might be nice according to the description). I’ll link the headcanon HEREas it includes a link to the article. The running/athleticism headcanon is twofold – the graphic linked HERE is from a quiz which many people in the tag were using, and was therefore not my own doing. But I had put some stock in the character’s athleticism, since it’s both canon that she’d have to be athletic, and because the character is suffering, in the plot, from severe PTSD. It is often recommended to sufferers of PTSD, like myself, and like my combat veteran father, to put much of their anxiety into athleticism, as linked in the headcanon HERE. I put a lot of myself into my characters, and I thought that, as I am dealing with my own battle with PTSD, it would be appropriate to make a point of expanding upon it in the development of a character who very clearly has it. This is not copied and pasted from any blog, nor was it written in an attempt to mimic anyone else’s portrayal. And to insinuate that I am stealing simply because there is overlap in the usage of two face claims is also up for question – I will admit that I did take an interest in Lindsey Morgan as the character because the author of the PSA used her, and I commend you for your excellent FC choice. But the second mentioned, Deborah Ann Woll, is merely a coincidence, and I must take issue with the idea that face claims are exclusive.

In the PSA, it linked things from my old Alice blog that I’d recycled because I am who you all now know I am – were I trying to hide, I wouldn’t have done that. I’d have never been so obvious. I was too optimistic, I suppose, in that I’d kept my head down enough to play this character again, and I truly am so sorry for making you all uncomfortable, and for making you all feel as if I was trying to be devious by going under another alias. All I was doing was trying to mind my own business – and that is what I’m doing now, by turning my writing blog into a simple fandom blog. I’m even further in my corner now, and though I have no intention of leaving my corner, I thought it appropriate to leave this here as both an admittance of everything I’ve done, and a defense of the new character that I’ve built for myself. I understand that the PSA was made to warn people about someone horrible – but I’m not that person anymore. I have nothing but remorse for what I’ve done to those I’ve hurt, and I will never stop regretting the friendships that I destroyed. I considered so many of you my family, and I hurt you. It’s irreparable, and I will never ever stop trying to be a better person because of it. All I wanted was to turn over a new leaf, and to have fun writing with those I could reconnect with, and I apologize from the bottom of my heart for drudging up old hurts. I never want to hurt any of you again, and I never plan to. If anyone wishes to come talk to me about this, so I can explain and own up further, or if you would like a direct apology, I’m now at arhwen. I hope you’re all well, and finish out 2017 well, too.

#rpt #rpc #rph #rp #roleplay

[kingofthewilderwest]

Alright I’m writing this post before I wimp out on this decision that I need to make. I’m going to try to explain with some thoughtful honesty about where I’m potentially going to be heading with my main blog. But because I have the habit of being... verbose... I’m putting my TL;DR at the top:

I am opening my ask box even though I still have dozens of analysis prompts saved from before I closed the ask box. It’s because I’m tired of not chatting with people in this amazing fandom. I love interacting!

I can no longer consistently analyze prompts. This means I cannot guarantee I will give a thorough analysis if I receive an analysis prompt. I will have to start giving answers like “I don’t know,” “I don’t remember,” or something based more on my gut than thorough research. If a topic really intrigues me, I might give a classic Haddock thorough response. But I can no longer guarantee long, consistent asks. I will, regardless, still respond to every ask I get!

I am so thankful for the experiences I have had with the HTTYD fandom and I would not trade my time on tumblr with you guys for anything. Seriously, you’ve all been amazing. I never would have expected to have such journeys, find such laughter, or make such friends as I have with all of you. Here’s to more fun times to come!

So now... the long version... 

I do encourage people to read it.

I have known for at least a year, if not two, that I could not keep up the pace of my blog analyses... not without sacrificing major opportunities or experiences in my life. I will be honest, me spending too much time on tumblr during my one year of the PhD program could have been one of the key reasons I couldn’t keep up. As much as I enjoy the community and as much as I am so happy to answer asks - it’s very fun and somewhat addictive - I know that I have to make decisions with my limited time.

I’m currently working three part-time jobs (~60 hours a week), am trying to find a good game plan for a stable lifelong career, and I have a lot of other adult-ing to do. When I do have free time, I want to be able to spend it hanging out with irl friends, reading books, studying theology and other topics of interest, reintegrating myself in the local church, writing novels, playing music, composing, drawing, conlanging, cosplaying, hiking, jogging, skiing, snowshoeing, watching good tv shows and movies, playing video games, spending time with family, making meaningful memories, etc.

I want to say that answering analyses on tumblr is something that is very meaningful to me. I don’t know how to say how touched I am that people are curious to hear my perspective. I never intended for kingofthewilderwest to be an analysis blog, yet here I am, wowed and grateful for over five thousand followers who have listened to me yak up a storm about an amazing franchise. I never would have imagined this would happen. I’m beyond grateful. What’s made it so worthwhile is interacting with you guys. I’m so happy to have had this experience and... I want to keep having this experience.

That said, answering asks on tumblr is perhaps not as “helpful” to me in the long run as working on a novel I hope to someday publish, or making sure I get a good night’s rest so I’m ready for another day of work. If I want to reach my life goals and have the meaningful experiences I dream of having, I have to make changes to my current day-to-day situation. I HAVE to. I want to get my life back in order, and I recognize my life has not been as “put together” since I started investing more time in tumblr. To get myself really firmly on track, I do have to loosen my hold on some of my free time activities, if not drop some things out altogether.

Answering analyses is a very time consuming process. VERY time consuming process. It can take me forty minutes or four hours to answer a single question. Not an exaggeration. This is because I often have to rewatch episodes and movies, do a bit of research online, give myself time to mull, and, all in all, invest a lot of time into answering a question. Even when I do consistently try my best to stay on track with answering asks... I cannot keep up with the volume of questions I receive. I wish I could, but I acknowledge I can’t. I still have asks in my inbox from the new year or older (Btw: the way my ask box system works: I keep the ask box open until I am >100 asks behind, then I close the box and answer all those, then open the ask box again). I am so, so sorry that I haven’t responded to all of you who have been patiently waiting for me, or you who may have even forgotten you sent in a question or comment.

I am sorry for all the people I will disappoint by not getting to your submitted asks with the thoroughness you were hoping. I will answer them, albeit not to my previous thorough standard. However, I hope you understand I feel it would be more thoughtful to provide you any response than to never return your messages.

My ask box has been closed because I still have about fifty asks left to answer before I’m caught up. But my ask box has been shut for a long time and I want to hang out with people and chat back and forth. So...

I’m going to open up my ask box again, but I hope you understand I suggest you do not inundate me with analysis requests. I want to open up my ask box so I can interact closely with everyone again... I always feel a little shut off and stale when I have my ask box closed. Now, you can send me analysis requests (when I’m not going through the really old ones in my drafts... again, sorry), but I cannot guarantee I will write an analysis in return. I’ll answer, but it might be a short “I’m not sure” or a few sentences of speculation instead of an essay. I’m happy to chat, I’m happy to discuss back and forth, whatever I want to do when I have the time for recreation, but I cannot be a one-person powerhouse publisher.

I don’t like doing this, but I’ve been needing to do this for a long time. So while I have the guts to write this and post it, I’m going to do it and make the decision final. Don’t make me back down. Don’t make me reverse this choice. Keep me accountable to my long-term life goals.

Another truth, and I am sorry to admit this to you guys, is that I’m not someone who’s used to staying in one fandom mindset for so long. I mean, I always love what I consume and always will get into it. But I’m more of the person to dance from passion to passion, from current interest to current interest, jumping in and out of the buzz of what I love. For instance, I might be on-and-off again with Star Wars, one year thinking about it and fanning about it a lot, another year not really caring. And I usually don’t get involved WITH a fandom... usually just scream about it with a few close irl friends and then move on. How to Train Your Dragon was a notable anomaly, a strange divergence from my typical patterning, and frankly it’s something I wouldn’t have stuck with for so long if not for my interaction with tumblr. If not for the HTTYD tumblr community, I likely would have been out of my HTTYD craze by mid-2015.

And while the HTTYD community has helped me sustain my ongoing interaction with the fandom, my personal passions are focused elsewhere now. I’m still always happy to talk dragons, mind! You guys can fuel me up again when I see you posting about it on tumblr. But in the last year and a half or two years, my mind hasn’t been focused on HTTYD. It’s been first Gravity Falls, then Undertale... and then, with the release of Andromeda, the Mass Effect franchise. I’ve also been going through crazes for things like Voltron: Legendary Defender. So, currently, my head is obsessing about Paladins and Alteans and Salarians and Spectres and Pathfinders and Space Exploration... not so much dragons and Vikings. It’s why my video game blog has been more active and responsive than this one. I’m very sorry if that statement disappoints you, friends. It’s a little weird for me too because I don’t know who all I can shout about my interests with (I only have a few friends who share these interests with me, and I’m sort of annoyingly “late in the fandom” if you know what I mean... don’t want to annoy the same people over and over again about something that’s 5+ years old, but who else do I talk to?). But, well, it is what it is. And it’s more fun for me to charge around with my latest obsession.

Let’s be clear: I’m not leaving you guys or running away or shutting myself off or becoming a hermit or anything. XD You guys mean too much to me to run off. I’m stuck here for good with you dragon nerds. Again, this community has been an extraordinary thing to me, and honestly, my interactions with the HTTYD fandom was the way I got out of a big depressive slump in 2014. So I’m still here! I’ll be staying here! I’m still going to commit to respond to every sincere message I receive! I’m just saying I’m going to invest less time in original posts, especially analyses. That’s all. :) 

It’ll be the best for my life. I hope you friends can all understand. We have to make decisions about the limited time in our lives.

But please! Feel free to chat and say hello and hop into my inbox again! Send little nothings or whatever’s on your mind. I’ve missed getting new asks! It’d be wonderful to hear from you again. <3

So yeah! That’s my honest report and stuff.

Take care, dragon nerds. 

#httyd fandom #kingofthewilderwest #analysis #my analysis #it's not actually an analysis but I'm tagging it so people see it when they look through my tags #blabbing Haddock #my life #PS if you like Mass Effect scream with me please!