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#or the articles I spent days having meltdowns over

purlturtle · 1 month

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Neurodiversity and coping mechanisms

So I've recently clocked that I might be ADHD, on top of being highly sensitive (or intermingled with, or whatever). And I've noticed a lot of advice is geared towards people who reacted to "don't make such a fuss/don't be a wuss about it" in childhood with either distrusting themselves (not listening to their bodies/minds about the things that are wrong), or bending themselves into pretzels masking/denying themselves.

Is there anything geared towards people who have such a massive distrust against adults/authority that bleeds into distrust against therapy/therapists/self help approaches?

Like, I worked with a therapist, who didn't even clock that I was HSP and that that was where my problems stemmed from. Unsurprisingly, that therapy went nowhere. (This was before I myself knew about the phenomenon.)

When I read self-help posts or articles, a ton of the time my thoughts are "this isn't gonna work, I tried this already, this doesn't pertain to me, I know I can't achieve that."

I have spent basically the entirety of my childhood trying to hold on to myself and not lose myself among the "don't make such a fuss" world, and most of my adult life trying to shape my life in accommodating ways of my own devising, against a lot of resistance. And now I don't know when leaving my comfort zone (and where to, and how long, etc etc) could actually be helpful, with my resistance to it being maladaptive, and when I should listen to my resistance.

And "just try it out" feels like something I cannot afford, with my mental health being what it is. Going over my limits lands me in migraines, meltdowns, days worth of being unable to work. (and work is one of those areas in which I struggle.)

Anyone here in the same position? (also, please feel free to share this post, so that it hopefully reaches people who have advice on this!)

#adhd #hsp #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #maladaptive coping mechanisms #overwhelm

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bygeto · 3 months

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Day Four (of a 100)

These 4 days have been so testy, I was losing motivation with every passing day.

What I planned to do

Start reading for a driver's license

Read through articles for my essay

What I actually did

Did the first chapter of the Driver's license theory textbook

What I am proud of

I finally took the first step towards getting a driver's license after putting it off for so long

What I have to say for myself

After having a mini meltdown bc of school yesterday, I spent most of today thinking about how to avoid situations like that

I decided to start off by doing max two things for 4 hours in a day, to avoid overwhelming myself. I'll gradually increase the load over 5-7 days until I'm back to studying for 10+ hours in a day.

It's a tried and tested method (by me)

Any last words

S/o to @astro-noob for giving me the push I needed to start on my essay. You're the best fr

I will not quit this 100 days of productivity challenge, I was just in a bad headspace yesterday

Pretend I put something nice and inspiring for you (the reader) here

#100 days of productivity #back on track #positivity

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monachopsis-11 · 2 years

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🌻🌻🌻

Things like this honestly make me so sad, The amount of misinformation is ridiculous. I feel like the only place you ever actually learn things about autism is from autistic people. So much pain could be avoided if people just took the time to let people with disabilities write their own narrative. My experience has been so confusing, trying to navigate websites like this when I was researching and not even being sure if I was autistic because of the misinformation like this.

My autism doesn’t affect other people severely but it affects me severely every day. I have scars from it, physical and emotional, I have limited jobs I can apply to, I can’t wear makeup or nail polish, I can’t form friendships with people my age, I can’t floss my teeth, and most days I can hardly wash my hair.

As for school I spent years depressed and in burnout trying to remind myself why I wanted to be alive.

My autism seems mild because I kill myself masking so other people don’t have to deal with it because I don’t want to be a burden to people or hurt people I care about even though no one has ever extended that courtesy to me.

And this isn’t even addressing the hell that is meltdowns and shutdowns.

* I would like to acknowledge that the article does explain the controversy surrounding the term within the autistic community but the screenshot at the top of the page is the first part of the article which promotes misinformation and many allistic people won’t have the patience to read to that section of the article. And if they do it basically says ‘autistic people don’t like this and say it is harmful and incorrect for x reasons’ and then continues to use the term high functioning which shows just how much autistic voices matter to the writer, they’ll acknowledge us sure but that’s as much as we get. It’s awareness vs. acceptance all over again.

Spoiler alert, the ending isn’t better.

#autistic experiences #late diagnosed autistic #actually autistic #autistic women #self diagnosed autism #autistic meltdown #sensory overload #invisible disability #ableist bullshit #actuallyautistic

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cookieek · 2 years

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A Lord and Lace (one shot)

Ao3 Wattpad

Please note that the following fic is most likely not period accurate. I have done some research, but it has mostly consisted of skim reading regency blogs, Wikipedia articles, articles about fountain history and articles about fountains written in the late regency period (“The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics”, 1809-1828, on archive./org). At it’s core, this fic is mostly based on a few contemporary historical romances I’ve read, and is not intended to be a 100% period accurate piece of fiction, set your expectations accordingly.

Content warning for ableism, family issues (including abuse) and depictions of meltdowns.

~~~~

Arthur felt like piss.

It had only been two weeks since his fiancé, or well, ex-fiancé had left to elope with someone else, in France, and he still could hear her last words ringing in his head.

“It just was too much Arthur.”

He remember wanting to shout, yell. What! What had been too much!? Was it his love? But how could love be too much? He didn’t know it could be that. At least he didn’t until she was already gone and he’d as a result spent two nights and days moping around the house. He would have probably stayed there wallowing in his self-pity had it not been for his friends arriving at the urgency of his parents to shake some sense into him again. Which was honestly impressive considering how spread apart they all were.

“What sort of friends would we be if we didn’t help out a friend in need just because of a few miles of traveling?” Hans had said to him as he patted his back, poured him some fresh water, and handed him a freshly baked pastry.

Arthur appreciated that, he appreciated his friends trying to help him get back up from the ground, but he still found himself questioning some of their plans on how to do that. Like he was doing as he stood staring over the large ballroom as people started pouring in.

It had been Jacks plan on getting him out to proper society again, making him co-host a party, even though he still wasn’t in any particular mood to do that. Still, he supposed it was better then doing nothing, and while he knew he’d already made a fool of himself with the whole situation with his ex-fiancé, he also knew he’d feel like the bigger fool the longer he shut himself away from society. Sure, he knew the situation had reached the papers, but he wasn’t ruined, he still had looks and a decent fortune, so there would probably be some beautiful and handsome people in the crowd would happily socialise with him.

Hell, maybe he’d meet the actual love of his life out there! A feeling of hope that he thought he’d lost started sparkling in his chest, and maybe, Jack had been right.

Still, he let himself take one final deep breath, reached into his vest to touch the old handkerchief from his mom for good luck, before walking into the crowd, and making a beeline to the first pretty face he spotted, eager to start making his introductions.

It didn’t take too long for him to realise that she was not what he was looking for, but he let the conversation die naturally before expertly lending her over to someone else, and moving on. The next one wasn’t it either, nor the next one, though Arthur soon found himself not really caring, so long the conversations were interesting enough, and so long they seemed enamoured enough. He felt a little bad leaving them afterwards, but it wasn’t like he’d made any serious signs of wishing to court any of them. It was just talk, and he considered himself to be more of a man of action when it came to courting anyways. Something the ton had been very aware of since the moment he’d entered high society.

It was around the time when the sun begun slowly creeping toward the horizon and was talking to another gentleman, as he spotted her.

While everyone in the party was happy and cheery, her look seemed to be one of gloom, her body stiff and her eyebrows tightly pushed together. She was a plump thing, yet slightly on the taller side, and holding a lacy fan up as if she was trying to hide her face from someone to the side of her. Her dress was an eye catching, frilly and lacy light blue thing with white satin gloves to match. Her dark brown hair was done up in a fancy and tight up-do, with even more lace adorning the hairpiece holding it up, her pale pink face was lightly dashed with a sweet rosy blush and her dark grey eyes looked sunken and haunted, yet also unspeakably piercing. And they were looking right at him.

It seemed to take her a moment to notice that their eyes had met, but when she did her body twitched, her frown deepened and she adverted her eyes, shifting the fan in front of her.

Arthur blinked a little, making his company turn his head to see where he was looking.

“Oh! The Scandinavian lady is here as well I see!” He remarked, before looking over at Arthur again. “Have her ‘unique charm’ caught your interest Lord Pendragon?”

“Unique charm?” Arthur asked him, the words certainly was something that could possibly describe her, but the tone he was using made it seem like there was something more to it.

The man laughed a little.

“It’s what her sister has been saying, the poor woman’s here with her husband desperately trying to get her younger sister wed,” he shifted his gaze over to someone standing a bit to the side of the woman with the haunted grey eyes, another lady, taller, lighter hair, slimmer, and with a pair of icy blue eyes. Though if he squinted he was able to make out a slight resemblance in the set of their faces. “They say that she must have done poorly at the marriage market back home,” Arthurs company continued “so they came to see if they’d have better luck here by playing up her as a unique foreign beauty.”

“I suppose she hasn’t had any better luck here?” Arthur asked, looking at the two of them, and honestly feeling sorry for the both of them, especially the grey eyed woman, no wonder her eyes looked so haunted. Despite her sunken look he would probably place her around the 23-24 age range, maybe only one year his junior, and there she was, having traveled over the sea for another opportunity to be wed, yet seemingly no one was approaching her.

“God no!” His company said, “well, there was those poor fools who tried at first, but the girl dances with two left feet, and is stiff as a board to boot.” He let out a small huff, almost as if he was talking from experience, “and talking to her is a whole other matter. She seems to be curt to a fault, and if she’s not being confused over whatever you said, she might just fully ignore every single word said to her in place of staring at an empty spot on the wall.” He took a sip from his champaign and turned back fully to Arthur, “Everyone has begun to really understand why she did bad in her home county, even with an impressive dowry and a decent singing voice.”

Arthur threw another look at the odd woman, despite her weight she would have probably appeared as charming and at the very least approachable, were it not for the glare in her eyes and the frown etched onto her face. He wondered if that look meant that she’d already given up getting a husband and resigned herself to spinsterhood.

Eh, whatever the case was he doubted he should bother her, it hardly looked like she wanted anyone to talk to her anyway.

He was just about to return to the earlier conversation with the gentleman as he noticed her move from her spot in the corner of his eye, and as he flicked his gaze to her he saw her cautiously glance towards her sister, before slinking through one of the doors to the side of the ballroom.

His attention was once more fully on her, what was she doing?

He excused himself from the conversation and moved towards where she had snuck away. It was one of the doors leading out to the private part of the house, but which the servants would often use. The door was usually kept unlocked for that reason, plus it wasn’t like the private part of the house it led to had anything extremely valuable, though Merlin would often argue for keeping the door to the dusty old library locked at least.

And maybe Merlin was right in some regard, because as Arthur entered the hallway and the door closed behind him, shutting out the noise of the ballroom, he could swear he heard soft careful footsteps inside that very room.

What was she doing? Why would she have left her chaperone for the old library of all places?

He walked up to the door and pushed it open as silently as he could, peaking inside after her.

She was standing by one of the big old bookshelves, an leather bound book open in her ungloved hands, the gloves laying discarded on one of the shelves. She had lost a little bit of the tension in her shoulders, and as she turned the page in the book something in her eyes glistened captivatingly as if looking at something promising, her lips twitching into an intrigued smile.

Before Arthur knew it he had pushed open the door to the library and let himself in, carefully trying to close the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the sight before him. The door closed with a faint click, and the woman immediately went rigid, her intense gaze snapping towards him.

They stood there for a moment, just staring at each other, until Arthur returned to his senses and pulled the most disarming smile he could muster.

“Ah, sorry m’lady, didn’t mean to startle you-“ he began but was cut off by the lady snapping the book shut and hurriedly pushing it back into the bookshelf.

“Got lost,” she said in a chipped tone, “someone’s probably looking for me.” She pulled on her gloves, fumbling with them a little before doing so, and then grimaced slightly as she seemed to impulsively scratch at the lace on the edge of her dresses arms.

“Oh,” Arthur said, “hold on,” he took a step closer, lifting his hands to show he meant no harm, only for her to stagger away from, temporarily shocking him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He then said gently, “I just wanted to see why you’d want to leave the party for this boring place.”

Her gaze flickered all over the place, he’d clearly not managed to convince her of his intentions, maybe he should not move any closer for the time being.

“There is a garden outside if you needed some fresh air, for example,” he stayed in place as he continued talking, “I would be a real bad host if someone thinks this place-“ he let out a small chuckle, but didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before she cut him off.

“You’re the host?” She looked even more alarmed then before, “I wasn’t stealing anything.”

“Wasn’t implying that!” He said in surprise, “If you came here to steal I’d expect you to go for something that wasn’t a dusty book.” He’d intended that to be a joke, but instead of laughing she simply tilted her head at him and frowned.

“It’s,” she glanced over at the book in the bookshelf, lifting a finger to trace against it’s spine as she read out loud, “Elements of Chemistry in a New Systematic Order containing All the Modern Discoveries, by Antoine Lavoisier, but translated by Robert Kerr I believe,” she shifted her gaze towards him meaningfully, “it compiles a lot of interesting theories, I would not call it just a dusty old book. Even if there are books that are more interesting in regards to narrative aspects, such as fiction.” She threw a glance at it again, “...though this book does dismiss things like atoms, which is… well something people still can’t really agree on really.”

“…You went in here to read a book about, uh, that sort of thing?” Now it was Arthur’s turn to tilt his head, was she one of those- what did they call them - Bluestockings? She didn’t look what he had expected one of those women to look like, well, at least not fashion wise. While he knew he hardly had a good grasp on woman’s fashion himself, the woman before him was dressed like a beautiful diamond, like someone had put some real effort in bringing out the most of her. Except maybe that shine that had been in her eyes a few moments ago. She was definitely not dressed in the sort of unremarkable and dull clothes he’d imagine when he thought of a bluestocking. “Was the party boring you that much?” He laughed a little.

She scrunched up her face, and made a vague gesture towards the door.

“Loud.” She paused a little, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face, “it is very loud, out there, and,” she glanced once more at the bookshelf, her fingers brushing against the spines of the books in it. “I like books.” She looked like she was about to say something more, but seemed to stop herself.

“…Loud?” Arthur repeated.

“Hard to think, and hear.” She said, a hint of hesitation in her face.

“It is-?”

The door to the library suddenly burst open, and in walked a tall blonde man, with a cold pair of baby blue eyes.

“Harriet Frodesdotter! Vad i hel-“ the man froze as he spotted Arthur, “Lord Pendragon.” His eyes gazed from Arthur to the woman and back to him. “Might I ask what you’re doing here with my sister-in-law?” He squinted at the woman for a moment, “She hasn’t done anything to disturb you has she?”

The woman seemed to somehow get even more rigid then before, her eyes darting all over the room except for where the blond man was standing, and her hands feverishly scratching at the edge of her collarbone.

“Ah no,” Arthur turned towards the man, “There’s no problem, was just curious about what a girl like her was doing alone.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to ask.” The man said coldly, “Harriet! You’re worrying your sister, stop that scratching at once, and get back to the ballroom.”

Once more the woman’s, Harriet’s, expression turned into a deep haunted frown as her hand dropped from her collarbone, clearly not comfortable with the idea of leaving the library.

“Hold on.” Arthur stepped towards the man, “She just told me that it was so loud out there for her that she couldn’t think, probably better for her to take a moment.”

“Oh, she told you that did she.” The man spoke coldly, taking a step forward himself, “The girl’s just overreacting, and there’s more pressing matters at hand then her thinking something is loud, we came here to get her married and by god so she will.” He started to try to move around Arthur, but Arthur stepped in front of him.

“There’s hardly a rush, the season’s still in full swing last time I looked, plus she’d probably have an easier time getting a husband if she can actually understand what other people are saying.” He argued back.

“Lord Pendragon.” The man said sharply, “Your worry about my sister-in-law is noted, but unless you’re planning to propose to her yourself this instant I suggest that you stay out of how I find her a husband.” He then elbowed past him and started dragging Harriet out of the room, “I’m sure you’d understand if she was your responsibility.”

Something tightened in Arthur’s chest as he watched the man pull at Harriet’s arm, making her wince, but in a way that made it seem like she was trying to hide it. The moment however seemed to made the arm of her dress slide up. And then, as the man tried to pull her past him Arthur saw it. The circle of red irritated skin around her upper arm, which also appeared around the edge of her collar, just around where she has been scratching, and all around the fancy detailed lace.

There was something not right with this, he could feel it in his gut, and his gut told him he had to do something to stop whatever was going on, so he once more stepped in front of the man and said the first thing that came to his mind.

“What if I am interested in her hand for marriage? Will you let her stay here with me then?” It was not his most thought out plan. His friends had told him his plans had the tendency to be like that. He on the other hand liked to think he thought well on his feet.

The man stopped and looked at Arthur.

“If you’re so interested in her hand, how come you haven’t asked her for a dance?” He scrutinised.

“A dance?” Arthur asked, he supposed that was reasonable, a man courting a lady was somewhat expected to share a dance with said lady. He glanced at Harriet, who was looking at him with a puzzled expression, like she was trying to figure him out. She didn’t look as uncomfortable as she’d been at the dance floor, so maybe she could still handle one single dance.

“Well,” He looked back to the man, “How about I ask for a dance with her now? Can I take her to a quieter place after that?”

“...I suppose.” The man finally relented, “but I hope you understand that a shut off place like this library is not acceptable, even if you believe her, issues. And she needs a chaperone, the last thing we need now is a scandal.”

“Loud and clear.” Arthur answered, being able to think of a fair share of other quiet places to bring her after the dance. He looked back at Harriet who’s eyes had just gone wide, her lips, soft and sweet looking, slightly parted.

You know what, this was actually a great plan, he thought to himself as he walked around the man and held out his hand to her.

“Well then, Miss Frodesdotter,” He said in the most charming tone he could muster, “Care for a dance? Just one and I’ll sweep you away from the noise again?”

Just like before his attempts to charm fell short as her face turned cautious, her eyebrows tightened in thought. She looked like she was about to say something, but before she could her brother-in-law pulled the arm of hers he was still holding towards Arthur so it landed in his outstretched hand. She somehow got even more tense then before, and Arthur was torn between shooting a glare at the man, or trying to calm her.

“Of course she will.” The man said sharply, before finally letting go of his tight grip on her arm. He turned towards the door again. “Now let’s go.”

Arthur watched the man move away from Harriet, glaring holes in his back, before turning to gaze into her once more haunted and disconcerting eyes. He lifted her stiff arm up to his lips and brushed them against her knuckles, worried that a full blown kiss would shatter her as she stood now.

“Just one dance.” he repeated to her. “I promise.”

She just nodded.

“Just one would be the best for us both.” She muttered in a flat tone, and followed by his side as they returned to the dance floor.

———

Harriet wanted to bite something. She often did nowadays. It wasn’t a rational urge, she knew that, especially when it made her want to bite down on the metal candelabra in her hotel room, or her horrid lacy fan. Sometimes however, she’d just feel, too much, and when your movements were restricted to the demure, gentle and unassuming moments expected of a lady, you would feel the urge to bite. Not that biting was something a gentlewoman, or any person for that matter, was supposed to do either, but it didn’t seem like the urge had quite understood that.

She flinched as she stepped into the loud ballroom once more, her hand involuntary squeezing the arm of the large man, the host of the party, Lord something something Pendragon. He looked down at her with a soft smile, placed a hand on her hand and gently squeezed her back.

“You alright?” He asked, though it took her a moment to make it out and process it.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She muttered back, glancing down at the floor as his hand dropped from hers, there was a fresh stain from what looked like champaign a few feet away from them and she let her eyes rest on it as she thought to herself.

She wasn’t sure what his aim was, but she was pretty sure it couldn’t be trusted, why else would he ask her for a dance. Surely if he was looking for a wife, or even just a girl to entertain himself with, he’d be looking somewhere else, someone who wasn’t a ghastly shambling excuse for a human person. Not that being a ghastly shambling excuse for a human being was a bad thing mind you, Harriet had started taking a silent sort of pride in appearing unseemly to others, carefully working against her sisters attempts at making her presentable, but it wasn’t something anyone but her seemed to enjoy very much. She definitely doubted a stupidly large and handsome (that is he looked like a person that people would find handsome) man like him would be the one exception.

Maybe he actually was mad over her sneaking into his library? And he was planning to humiliate her in front of everyone else, make her an example like the hanged pirates by ports? Or maybe he was simply making fun of her for being caught with her eyes turned in his direction.

Well, he was already pulling her onto the dance floor, so she doubted she really could do anything to escape now. Just in case she threw a quick glance to the people mingling, and quickly saw her brother-in-law Ragnar, and her sister Signe watching her like hawks. She sighed and turned back to Lord Pendragon who was now facing her, holding his now free arms out expectantly, clearly waiting for her to enter his embrace for what seemed to be a waltz. She hated waltzing, but she supposed it wasn’t the worst type of dance she had had to deal with so far (she silently cursed whomever decided that a quadrille had to be a staple of every ball), and she just had to accept her fate at this point.

Let’s just get this over with, she repeated to herself. She stepped forward and was immediately engulfed by Lord Pendragon's ridiculously thick arm, pressing her against his chest.

She had to physically fight herself not to immediately struggle and fight against his hold. She felt trapped, like she was being suffocated, like there was a monster above her about to bite her head off if she didn’t get free right away.

She hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this she hated this

His hold on her loosened, and Harriet felt as if a rush of air had returned to her lungs, at least for a moment. It was then she realised that people had already started moving around her, but he hadn’t yet, confusedly she looked up at him and met eyes full of confused concern. His eyes then lifted to somewhere above her, and his expression turned into one of determination.

He held her waist steadily with his hand, but kept her at a slight and respectful distance.

“Sorry, is this alright?” He asked her softly, looking faintly embarrassed.

It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it wasn’t the worst, so she placed her left hand in his and her right on his shoulder. Taking a hold of her senses a final time she then nodded and he started leading her in a slow waltz. Whatever game he was playing, she wasn’t sure if she liked it, many people had pretended to care for her comfort before, only to either get very upset with her when she declined them anything afterwards, and/or mock her behind her back for being so trusting and gullible, and presumably absolutely fawning over them.

Well she wasn’t going to fawn for this man that was for sure, the moment she got her chance she would slip away from him, making it clear that pity wasn’t something that would make her swoon for his and his friends amusement.

As they continued dancing Harriet did her best to simply focus on taking one step at the time, trying to pick out the tempo of the song from the rest of the noise in the room. She was sometimes able to focus on one noise specifically if she tried really hard to, or alternatively if her brain decided that the noise was interesting enough, which usually tended to happen at random and was rarely anything she had any control over. This seemed to be one of those latter days, as the music stayed faint and one with the noise, meaning she had to mostly intuit the rhythm from the way Lord Pendragon was moving.

One, two-three. One, two-three. One, two-three. She thought to herself as she moved her feet, doing what she could to follow his lead, and gripping his shoulder tighter as she occasionally stumbled. After only a few minutes she could feel the edge of fatigue, but she gritted her teeth, focused on the rhythm in her head, and kept moving. One, two-three. One, two-three. One, two-three.

After what felt like a painful eternity he suddenly came to a stop, once more making her stumble, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was going to let her fall for comedic effect. Was that his plan all along?

But such a thing didn’t happen, instead his grip on her hand and waist grew tighter in an attempt to steady her, and a few words left his mouth. What words exactly Harriet wasn’t sure, the noise around her closing in more as the rhythm in her mind faded away.

“I’m fine.” She still said, making a quick assumption that he probably had made some sort of remark on her almost falling. Looking up at his face she seemed to be correct, as his eyes was once more looking at her with serious concern.

He then said something else, of which Harriet only could make out a faint “-ve you“.

“…What?” She said after failing to figure out what on earth the rest of the sentence could have been, which she was frankly a bit to exhausted to figure out anyway. “I told you,” she let go of his shoulder and waved her arm around, “noise.”

Lord Pendragon blinked in surprise, saying something else which Harriet assumed was ‘that noisy?’, judging by the movement of his mouth an facial expressions. She just nodded in response, which Lord Pendragon mirrored before lifting his gaze to rake over the room. His eyes seemed to finally find what he was looking for, and he made a gesture with his head which seemed to mean ‘let’s go’.

Remembering what Lord Pendragon had said before the dance Harriet hesitantly followed his lead, it was not like she had any other choice really, she did want to get out of the cramped and loud room, and he was also leading her by her hand, not yet having let go of it from the dance.

They left the ballroom through a white door with large glass windows and entered into a sprawling garden. There was some people there already, but much fewer and far in between, and it was much less noisier. Harriet felt almost as if some weight had lifted from her shoulder, and felt almost giddy as the gravel of the gardens footpath crunched under her shoes. She’d almost temporarily forgotten about the large man beside her until Lord Pendragon spoke to her with his head way to close to her ear.

“Feelin’ better now Miss Frodesdotter?”

She immediately stilled and her giddiness faded. Right. He was still here, which meant she still had to be on guard. There had to be some secret agenda behind this, and the fondness of his tone only helped to aid her suspicions.

Steeling herself, she turned to look at him, and did not like what she saw. Or, to be exact, she liked what she saw and hated that she felt that way.

He was looking at her with gentle and fond eyes to match his tone, even worse, his lips was pulled into a sweet and threateningly sincere smile, that made her chest tighten.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said curtly, and then after a moment of contemplation she added, “thank you.” Avoiding common curtesy would do her no good at the moment.

She took a step forward and slipped her hand out of his loosened grasp, putting distance between her and Lord Pendragon. You’d be surprised how much ill will and lack of even the most basic of respect could be hidden behind a smile, or hell behind a declaration of affection. And such a smile that Lord Pendragon was pulling… who knew what was behind it. Trusting her experience, it was probably nothing good.

So she turned from him and begun walking away down the path.

“You can leave me now.” She said, feeling the wind brush against her skin, making a happy feeling fill her body again. Flexing her fingers and fiddling with her fan she restrained the urge to rush into the greenery like a wild creature, maybe scampering up a tree or scuttling into one of the hedges. All things that sounded good and exhilarating in theory, but which she knew would definitely leave marks on her dress that Signe and Ragnar no doubt wouldn’t respond kindly to. And while they rarely ever responded to things she did in a way that she enjoyed, be it Signe’s incessant babying and patronising or Ragnar’s ‘tough-love’, she doubted drawing more of their ire like this would improve anything in the long term.

“You sure?” Lord Pendragon’s voice came up beside her again, seemingly insisting to make himself more of a nuisance, “It‘s not especially proper for me as a host to leave a guest without making sure they’re enjoying themselves to the fullest.” He added a smile evident in his voice, only serving to put her once more on edge, “How about I show you around? It’s my family’s garden, so I know my way around here and the best spots to visit.”

Harriet looked at him just as he extended his arm to her, smiling down at her in a way that struck her as oddly silly, maybe boyish?

“Do you do this to every guest?” She asked sceptically, “that seems time-consuming, you don’t have to do that with me.”

Lord pendragon cocked his head to the side, but didn’t drop his offering arm.

“Every guest? Nah,” he leaned towards her a little, “just the ones that seem to be in need of some accommodations, and breathing room, especially from stuffy relatives.” His voice came out surprisingly hushed and he raised his arm a little bit more.

…So he was playing the ‘knight in shining armour’ angle was he?

Throwing a glance at the garden she briefly reconsidered her previous thought about rushing into the grass, but as her eyes skimmed the door back to the ballroom she once more locked eyes with her sister standing by the outside of the door with her husband. Signe’s lips curled into a smile and she subtly nodded her head toward Lord Pendragon, making her thoughts on the situation very clear.

Feeling another hope for a brief reprieve be harshly tugged from her fingers Harriet sighed and accepted Lord Pendragon's arm.

“Fine,” she turned her head towards him, seemingly in synch with him as he look back at her from her sister. So he’d seen it too. No matter, she let her eyes steady on his face, more specifically his eyebrows which were pretty large and bushy. “But then you can leave me be.” She wasn’t sure why she made it a point to say that, it wasn’t like anyone before had really cared for her thoughts on these sorts of matters…but not saying anything would just make her feel weak, and she hated feeling weak.

For a moment he looked like he was figuring something out in his head, his brows pressed together in concentration, but then his face spread into a look of confident determination, and he straightened his back.

“Alright then Miss Frodesdotter.” he smiled at her, as he began leading her down the path. “As you wish.”

As they begun their walk Ragnar followed up behind them like a stalking shadow, like he always did. That was his idea of chaperoning, walking behind her and glaring at the back of her neck, making sure she stayed in line. Though she supposed he was also making sure that Lord Pendragon stayed in line.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, walking past the occasional groups that had also made an escape into the garden. Even the occasional couple appeared, whomst she assumed where already married, judging by how both Ragnar and Lord Pendragon did nothing but politely nod at them as they passed.

It was unclear why nobody was talking, and Harriet wasn’t sure if she should be worried or grateful. Honestly, she mostly leaned towards quiet frustration. Sure she usually enjoyed herself some piece and quiet, but she greatly preferred it without the surveillance. If anything the quiet made her more attentive to the noise around her, the sound of footsteps, distant talking, birds, flowing water…

Wait.

Flowing water?

She let go of Lord Pendragon's arm the moment she lifted her gaze and spotted the fountain. Dropping any other previous train of thought as she hurried up to it.

She liked fountains, they were an fascinating mix of engineering and artistic design, when she was younger she’d once spent a whole month (or was it two?), reading every book on them that she could get her hands on (Though most of the time she’d been stuck to looking at the images, because they were in languages she hadn’t been taught to read).

Studying the fountain, it looked like it was a fairly simple one about three meters tall and utilising a combination of a single jet at the top and two basins bellow it, in which the water from above would land and overflow the basins, finally reaching the small pool (she’d guess maybe 3-4 meters in diameter) beneath it. As expected for a private garden fountain it looked to be purely for decorative purposes, the basins styled with waves, and standing on top of the fountain before the jet was a hand holding up a sword, she’d guess it was made of a lighter material, maybe bronze? The lower parts appeared to be marble, and Harriet couldn’t help admire the handiwork of the pool, especially as she caught the sight of a wave pattern on the floor of the pool as well.

She leaned forward to look closer, ignoring the splatter of water against her face, wondering how they’d made the pattern look so seamless. They had to have used multiple tiles for the bottom right? Or did they carve the entire thing out of one chuck of marble? Either way the final work was amazing, and she couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to touch. She could vividly imagine taking off her glove and reaching down through the water to touch the pattern with the palm of her hand.

“I was hoping you’d like this.” The voice of Lord Pendragon quickly cut her excitement short as he came up beside her. “It’s one of my mothers recent additions.”

He wasn’t going to comment on her letting go of his arm? Huh. The dread that had suddenly spiked inside of her confusedly grew slightly smaller.

She glanced at Rangar who was standing just besides Lord Pendragon, his arm slightly lifted and brows deeply furrowed as he looked at him, not her. His hand then clenched into a first as he took a step back.

“I can see that.” Harriet answered cautiously looking back at the fountain, “It’s very nice.” She stopped the urge to drag her fingers against the edge, still feeling Ragnar’s eyes on her, but the familiar and interesting topic made the possible conversation seem a little bit more bearable. “Your mom made a good choice, the handiwork is admirable… Especially the floor.”

“The floor?” Lord Pendragon turned to look at her with a confused expression, before he leaned over and looked at the bottom of the pool. “Oh that!” He laughed with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face.

“Yes.” She nodded, “Very good craftsmanship, must have taken a long while to complete, especially out of such a hard material as marble.”

“Huh.” He said thoughtfully, “I suppose so.” He then tilted his head toward her. “You got any one of these back home?”

“One of these?” She asked, “No I don’t think I’ve seen one with this exact design before…” she briefly searched her memory for anything similar back home, “but, I suppose the one in my family’s garden also uses a basin, but only one, and two jets.”

“Oh?” He said, “how’s the craftsmanship on that one then?”

“Good I think?” She tried her best to think back to the fountain, scratching the corner of her collarbone at the infernal lace. “I haven’t been allowed to see it up close since I was a child so I can’t really say, but it looked well made from the distance.”

Lord Pendragon's eyes widened a little and Ragnar cleared his throat loudly with obvious displeasure.

Shifting her gaze down she dropped her hand and stared at the edge of the pool, silent and refusing to look either of them in their eyes. She’d probably said too much, and she wasn’t in the mood to see more of Ragnar’s cold anger or the pity she risked seeing in Lord Pendragon's.

The only noise around them was once more the distant chatter of other guests, chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves on the hedges.

At last the silence was broken by Lord Pendragon again, his tone unbelievably soft.

“I think we should maybe go to the next stop on our tour.”

Surprised, but also happy that she didn’t have to be the one shifting the topic, Harriet nodded and took his arm as he offered it.

“My apologies Lord Pendragon,” she said to him, hoping that it would suffice, because she wasn’t sure what else she could add.

“No problem,” he smiled at her gently, though he seemed to throw small angry glances at Ragnar, as they walked away from the fountain with him in tow.

And so they continued walking through the garden, Lord Pendragon showing her everything from paths gilded by tall colourful tulips on both sides, to statues commissioned from local artists. The whole time he seemed to be trying to coax longer conversations out of her, to which she found herself only being able to give short, simple, and safe responses. Ragnar had only been slightly deterred by Lord Pendragon's previous show of chivalry, meaning that while he’d yet to make another move at grabbing her, he’d doubled down on silently and critically scrutinising her every move. She swore there had to be holes in the back of her neck by now from how he glared at her, his eyes promising swift punishment for every moment she stepped out of line.

It was suffocating, and she silently cursed Lord Pendragon for even finding her in the library in the first place. At least in the ballroom she could find a corner where she could blend in with the wallpaper, but here she was as exposed as a large rock atop a plain hill.

The walk seemed to reach it’s crescendo as the sky had darkened and they walked through an opening of a large hedgerow, entering what seemed to be the centrepiece of the garden. It was a large field full of colourful flowers surrounded by hedges. The middle of said field was cut in two by a thin snaking stream of trickling water, which was paired with a small peach-coloured wooden bridge that was decorated with baskets of flowers matching the ones on the ground. On the other side of the stream, and in the very centre of everything, stood a small peach-coloured gazebo.

“So,” Lord Pendragon said, leading her up to the small gazebo, “How do you like this? Pleasant and quiet right?”

“It’s…nice.” Harriet said cautiously as they entered it, it smelled amazing, the sent of freshly cut grass and flowers mixed with the cold evening air making her toes curl, but she knew she had to stay on guard. She fanned herself with her fan in an attempt to stay focused. “Is this also something chosen by her, your mother?”

“Not this time actually.” He grinned to himself as he leaned against the gazebo’s railing. “My father had this place made for her as a wedding present, she really loves flowers. And he said he wanted her to have a place where she could have a view of so many different flowers as possible.” He glanced over his shoulder with a fond expression, though there was also something faintly melancholic in his eyes as well, or at least that’s how it appeared to her. The look soon disappeared however as he looked back at her and gestured towards the view behind him with his head. “This is her favourites spot, come look.”

Letting go of his puzzling expression, she was to preoccupied with trying to not look like a fool to bother with it now anyway, she took a step towards where Lord Pendragon was standing.

Only for the tip of her shoe to hit an invisible snag on the wooden floor, which promptly turned her attempted graceful walk into a pitfull stumble. The hand gripping her fan instinctually moved to steady herself against the bench inside of the gazebo, and her feet quickly moved to stop any further descent. Her other hand, as well as her waist, was then however suddenly firmly gripped by Lord Pendragon’s absurdly large hands, and she felt her cheek lightly brush against his cravat.

“Are you alright miss?” He said in a concerned tone.

“I’m fine.” She said, her voice coming out a bit more roughly then she had intended. She usually was better at saving herself from embarrassing tumbles like this, she’d had to learn to do so unless she wanted even more ridicule for her lack of grace, yet here she was, stumbling face first into a man’s chest.

Ragnar cleared his throat loudly again, though Lord Pendragon seemed to ignore him as he helped her up onto her feet again. Only letting go of her and turning to Ragnar when he seemed sure that she was alright.

“It’s getting late,” Ragnar said pointedly, flipping open his pocket-watch, “about time for us to leave, thank you for your company, Lord Pendragon.” He said the man’s name in an detached tone.

“Oh… it’s been an pleasure,” Lord Pendragon said as if he’d completely forgotten how late it was and his fist clenched a little, then he looked straight at her, “I hope I’ll be able to see you again soon?”

“She will be at the very next big ball,” Ragnar answered before her, “if you want to see her before that you will have to settle for a short visitation at the hotel we’re staying at at the moment.” He snapped the pocket-watch closed. “Now let’s go Harriet.” He reached forward to grab a hold of her wrist, making her involuntary flinch. His hands where almost just as her sisters, tight and cold.

“Allow me to lead Miss Frodesdotter back to the ballroom.” Lord Pendragon stepped forward, threatening to cut off Ragnar’s reach to her, making him stop. He eyed Lord Pendragon suspiciously, but then took a step back and gave him a small nod.

“Fine then.” He said simply, and then turned to walk towards the exit to the gazebo, making sure to throw looks back at them as he did. Ever so watchful.

Just wanting everything to be over Harriet accepted Lord Pendragon’s arm and let him lead her down after her brother in law. As they walked however she felt something gently touch her hand, and as she looked up at Lord Pendragon he looked at her with such a serious gaze it almost took her aback for a moment. Then he subtly leaned towards her, and muttered something to her so softly that she at first couldn’t make it out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

Her instincts both wanted her to doubt his words, but was also concerned over that he might be serious. She knew he was playing the hero, but she supposed the question was how long he was going to keep it up before he grew too bored or frustrated with her. Her preference was for the ones that decided to drop her the moment she got out of their sight, they were only quick nuisances that she could easily brush off. The ones that kept going was so much worse.

Trying not to dwell on the memories she broke the eye contact with him and looked at the ground instead. Not entertaining his words as they walked back in silence.

They had yet to exit the garden properly as her sister appeared and gracefully hurried up to them.

“Your Lordship,” She greeted Lord Pendragon with a demure curtesy, “I do not believe we have been properly introduced, but I see that you have taken to my dear sister.” She smiled politely at him as Ragnar made a quick introduction for them, and then excused himself to go look for a coach back to the hotel. Leaving his wife to immediately begin interrogating Lord Pendragon, like she did to everyone else that she read as having an interest in Harriet. Though usually it happened before she’d force Harriet and the potential suitor together, and they often involved Signe trying subtly to convince them to give Harriet a chance.

It was such a normal occurrence that Harriet had learned to tune out most of it, even the switch to English only severed as a minute change. It involved subtle and polite questions prodding at his social standing, his finances, possible previous scandals, and then the questions pertaining to how he viewed Harriet, looking out after if he understood what she was in need of, at least according to her.

Lord Pendragon seemed to be in the middle of saying something about protection and such, before his name was urgently called from the ballroom. Yelling back an affirmative he said his goodbyes, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of Harriets hand, and then hurried inside.

“A Lord huh?” Her sister hummed as she stepped closer to Harriet, “With the title of Marquess Pendragon, not too bad.”

Harriet just huffed in response and unconsciously reached to scratch her arm, only to receive a firm smack on her hand from her sister.

“I’ve told you not to do that in public,” she chided a playfully stern look on her face, and which then broke out into a wide smile, “oh! I can’t stay mad at you! Come here!” She said in the same voice you’d use when speaking to a baby and dragged her into a hug.

It was tight. So horribly tight. Harriets arms and legs twitched as her body wanted to flee, but her mind knew she wasn’t allowed to make a scene. Death chanted in her mind like a mantra, and then after pressing a kiss on the top of Harriets head, leaving a cold, wet and uncomfortable feeling after it, her sister finally let her go.

She was still twitching, and still trying to control her breathing.

“Always so fuzzy,” her sister shook her head.

Harriet gripped for the fan, the stupid lacy, but socially acceptable fan that she could mess with without derision, she should have it hanging around her wrist, why wasn’t it around her wr-

Gazebo. Bench.

Oh no.

Wait, oh yes.

“I forgot my fan inside of the garden,” she lifted her arms to indicate the fan wasn’t where it was supposed to be for her sister, “I’ll run back and get it.” and before her sister could protest, Harriet had sprinted off for the temporary freedom in the garden. A temporary yet true freedom.

The shadows had gotten even more darker, and more quiet when she once more was inside of the shielding walls of the gardens many hedges, only making it seem more mysterious and even otherworldly, as if she could make a turn and run into a troll or fae. She dried her forehead with her handkerchief with great relief, and after folding it so the wet part was perfectly quarantined and putting it back in her bag, she picked up her speed. The gravel crunched against her shoes, the night wind flowed against her face, and she wondered briefly of what sort of stories about magical creatures they told children here in England, and did the stories tell of them living in garden such as this one.

It took restraint to not immediately try to tear of her headdress as she ran deeper into the garden, but she knew very well that she would only make an uncomfortable mess of her hair if she tried, so she let it be. As she ran she shortcut over the large grass fields and skipped over a patch of flowers, and her legs even did a few skips as she ran on the paths again, her body and mind relishing in the feeling of finally being able to let out the energy that she had pent up inside of her the whole day. She spun and danced to a tune that she knew was only in her mind, swinging her arms around as if they were bladed weapons cutting down imaginary foes. This didn’t last forever though, the stowaway energy from the day could only do so much to keep her already-exhausted-from-the-long-day body going like this, and she soon mellowed out. Which was probably for the best considering she knew it could only be a matter of time before her running and skipping resulted in her ruining her appearance and thus upsetting her sister.

So she took a long breath, the cold night air in the garden as pleasant as ever, and let herself walk the rest of the way towards the gazebo, tracing back the way she had walked with Lord Pendragon and her brother-in-law back to the ballroom before. She savoured the lone walk, her body having almost shaken the tenseness it had before and was now just letting her be, her. Sure there was a distinct lack of books or any of the chemist tools she would longingly glance at when they were pictured in a book or journal. And the path she took didn’t feature any fountains or anything else that was of specific interest to her. But even so there was no demands for posture or elegance, no unspoken rules about how to act or how to be. There was just her, the stars, the flora around her and the countless insects. And they didn’t care about how she was different and wrong, about her scratching, or unfitting interest, or that she couldn’t stand dancing, or that her natural walk was something her governess had once compared to that of a ‘rampaging cow’.

They didn’t care, and the people that did wasn’t around to care, she was free.

That final thought made another burst of giddiness flow up inside of her as she turned onto a part of the path surrounded by long trees and bushes, and practically scampered through it from the sudden bust of energy the feeling brought with it. As she came out of the trees however, she realised she was but one turn away from the entrance in the hedge that surrounded the field with the gazebo, and a slight feeling of melancholy came over her.

Soon she would have to turn back from where she’d came, and though she knew that this was temporary, everything was, she supposed she wished these happy moments lasted longer and happened more often then they did. Or that they wouldn't cost her as they did.

Still, she had time left, so she better savour it as it lasted.

In an attempt to summon back the happy feeling from before, she scampered around the corner of the hedge that stood parallel to the one surrounding the field, pondering that she might have the time to take the longer way back past the fountain since she now could short cut a little over the grass.

Then she lifted her head and saw someone walking out of the opening in the hedge.

Lord Arthur Pendragon, his hair no longer as slickly combed down as it had been before, and one of his hands preoccupied with buttoning a button on his waistcoat, the other grasping a fan, as he lifted his head and looked at her with eyes wide in surprise.

And then he smiled at her boyishly, successfully buttoned the waistcoat and lifted his hand in greeting, as if he wasn’t some sort of accursed spectre that insisted on making her day more troublesome and complicated then it had any right to be.

“Miss Frodesdotter!”

Harriets spine snapped straight so fast that she could have sworn it made a worrying clicking noise, and her arms straighten like sticks to the side of her body. She spun back around the corner and stared at the first thing her eyes caught, which was a small bench, as her mind raised.

He’d seen her.

He’d seen her scampering like a creature.

Dear god if he wasn’t going to turn around and treat her like an utter dimwit before he sure was going to now. What had she been thinking!

Then again how was she supposed to know he was going to be here! Hadn’t he gone inside of the estate last time she saw him?!

Her thoughts raced and she tried her best to control her breathing.

Maybe, maybe this was good, now he’d loose interest for sure... Or maybe he was going to tell all his friends and before she’d know it the whole of England would know and her family would be furious with her and-

Something warm touched her elbow making her involuntary jolt.

“Miss Frodesdotter?” Lord Pendragon asked her softly, unreasonably close to her, but thankfully not enough to suffocate her. He looked at her with a look of clear concern as he nervously pushed his hair back into place, “is everything alright?” he lifted his gaze and looked towards the direction of his mansion, his eyes hardening, “did that knobhead of an in-law do something to you?”

Somehow the surprise at hearing him, a somewhat distinguished gentleman, seemingly swear in-front of her threw her for such a loop that her thoughts immediately came to a screeching halt. Did he also just forget himself? Knobhead? She had to remember that one for future use. Either way it was just what she needed to get her head back in place.

“Oh- no, Lord Pendragon.” She said to him, taking a small step back, “I seemed to have misplaced my fan so I came back to find it, if that’s alright.”

A small grin quickly spread across Lord Pendragon's face.

“Your fan you say? You mean,” He lifted the fan he was holding in his hand up to her with a small bow and flourish, “this fan?”

It was indeed her fan.

“I went back to check something for my mum, and I saw it resting on the railing.” He said casually with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I wasn’t expecting to be seen by people before I saw it, so I apologise for, my uh, appearance.”

“I… see, thank you.” She said accepting the fan, trying not to twitch to noticeably as their fingers brushed against each other. Wasn’t planning to be seen? Maybe he took some hidden way inside of the garden if that was the case, that would account for his sudden appearance.

“No problem,” he made a dismissing wave with his arm, the grin on his face getting a bit wider, “this is actually good timing, I was hoping to talk with you, you know without your stuffy relatives lurking about.” He took a small step closer to her.

“…Really?” She said, immediately on edge, “Talking all alone? That’s… Is this a normal thing you… hope for, My Lord?”

He seemed to think about that for a moment, before his smile softened.

“Nah, only do it with pretty ladies in need of rescue like you.” He added a small wink at the end of the sentence.

“…In need of rescue.” She repeated back to him blankly, gripping her fan in her hand as she took a step away from him. “I think you’re mistaken, I don’t need rescue.” At least not by you.

“Really?” Arthur shot her a sceptical look, “I saw the way that bugger was handling you back there, that isn’t right.” He took another step toward her, “I’m not a fan of the strong hurting the weak,” he reached out his hand to gently brush her cheek as he looked at her with a serious gaze, “and something tells me that I’ve only seen half of it.” He straightened his back and shot her a confident grin, “So that’s why I, Lord Arthur Pendragon, shall save you.”

Out of her experiences with wannabe heroes, she was pretty sure this was the first one to actually outright proclaim himself her rescuer. All the alarm bells was going on in her head, and something just snapped in her. She was just so sick and tired, of everything, of her family, of her brother-in-law and sister never leaving her be, the suitors whom either looked at her with disgust, amusement or pity. And now this!

She shoved at his chest, hard, catching him off guard, and pushing him onto the bench on the other side of the small path. He blinked in confusion and tried to get up again, but Harriet swung her right leg up, slammed it down on the bench just by his left knee, and then clamped her left hand down on his shoulder, forcing him to stay put by sheer force of will. Leaning over, she brought up her fan and held it like a dagger to his chin, tilting it up so she could look straight into his eyes. Many governesses had criticised her before for having an unnerving gaze, but she was going to use that to her advantage. He had already seen her act like a child and make a fool out of herself so who even cared anymore! She was going to make sure that whatever his interest in her was, whether it was to soothe his own ego or to gain something from her, he’d loose it soon. She was going to put it out like one put out a burning matchstick with one’s fingers, quickly and efficiently.

“I don’t need your damn pity.” She growled at him through clenched teeth.

———

Arthur had never felt more attracted to someone in his entire life.

Okay, maybe that was overstating it a little bit, he had felt pretty intensely attracted towards others to a similar degree before, but that never made it feel less intense when it happened. His heart was almost beating out of his chest as he looked up at the now deathly sharp eyes of Miss Harriet Frodesdotter. She looked furious, and he knew in the back of his head that it wasn’t a good thing, but his chest would not stop fluttering.

It wasn’t just her eyes, it was also her sweet looking lips that now was pulled into a fierce snarl, and her voice which had deepened similarly as it had after she’d stumbled in the gazebo. He couldn’t put a finger on why it was, but it was so strangely entrancing.

Had she been hiding this from everyone? This demeanour, this voice? In the very same way she hid the odd yet beautiful smile that spread across her face when she looked at that book in the library or looked at the fountain? Or was it that she wasn’t able to show it to anyone, due to how her relatives treated her? Did that mean, he was the only one to see those sides of hers? The sides hidden beneath those deep and haunted eyes that stared at him from the other side of the ballroom. The very same eyes that could spark with joy and-

“Are you even listening to me!?” Harriets face grew closer to his, their noses touching. “I. Am. Not. Your. Charity. Case!” She hissed at him, as if she wanted to yell to the high heaven, but couldn’t allow anyone but him to hear her outburst. “I don’t need any of your heroics! And I refuse to be a catalyst for making you feel good about yourself! Take your pity and-!” The hand on his shoulder twitched, and then said a few words in a language that he couldn’t understand.

“What?”

“ASS!” She exclaimed through her teeth, as if she finally realised what word she was looking for, “shoot it up your ass!”

“Will do ma’am.” He said instinctually, it had been a long while since someone ever had had the gall to speak to him that way, and it was both refreshing and vaguely nostalgic at the same time. But then it finally clicked what she was saying to him. “Wait, pity?”

“Yes! Pity.” She said her lips tight, “Don’t look so surprised, I’ve dealt with others of your ilk before, and I’ve had enough of it! I’ve had enough of all of this!”

“But, I don’t pity you!?”

Harsh cackling left her mouth, and the fan flipped so it’s side was held to his throat, pressing against his Adam’s apple.

“You expect me to believe that?” She stared straight into his eyes, her eyes thrown into deep shadows from her furrowed brows and wild with distrust and anger to a frankly frightening degree. “It’s always pity with you people! Always! You people look at me and just see a sad little dimwitted girl who can’t seem to get any attention that is positive, and who is unreasonably fuzzy, clumsy, and air-headed, and not to mention hideous to look at. And, you pity me, talk to me as if I’m a dog unaware of it’s abusive owners treatment, and expect me to fall to your feet and kiss them, when presenting the exact same treatment as an greater alternative. Or! You whisper behind my back, make funny little bets on who can stand dealing with me for the longest, or who can sweep me off my feet to the most humorous result! Because I’m such a sad, desperate, yet entertaining creature am I not!?” She leaned away from him for a moment, her gaze lifting to the dark sky, “‘Come one come all. Watch in amazement as the ugly, dumb, shut in cow makes a damn fool of herself and looses another potential suitor once more!’” She looked down at him again, and he could swear he saw tears in the corners of her eyes, “I’ve seen it all. You can’t fool me.”

Oh god, he thought to himself, what have these people done to her?

…damn it all, had he really just gone and made the biggest ass of himself?

He was about to open his mouth and say something to her, only to feel his words freeze on his tongue as the look of rage on Harriets face was within an instant replaced by fear as she clasped a hand over her mouth, her head snapping back and forth as if listening after something.

“Miss Frodesdott-“ He started only to be stopped by her putting her hand on his mouth.

Arthur sat still for a moment, and then his ears caught the sound of distant footsteps. Oh.

He sat there for a moment as the both of them listened to the footsteps, near, and then depart, but not quite disappear. Listening, Arthur tried to figure out where in the garden the person was, where they would be coming from, before he stood up and took a step towards Harriet.

Unlike before this time she stood her ground, her hand still firmly clamped on his mouth, but he could see that the tears of frustration in the corner of her eyes had slid down her cheeks. She quickly looked around and then grabbed his hand with her other hand, pulling him off the path, behind the hedges and into their shadows.

“Be quiet.” She whispered harshly, before finally letting go of his mouth after he gave her a nod. She’d let go of his hand but rested one hand on his shoulder as if trying to keep him hidden in the shadow with her as she eyed where they had come from.

There was footsteps on the gravel of the path, footsteps which grew closer quickly, and then passed the two of them.

Then they just stood there for a few moments, listening.

“…I’m sorry.” Arthur finally whispered, looking down at her still damp cheeks, pretty sure that a few more tears had slid down her cheek as they waited for the danger to pass. This was his fault wasn’t it? He’d gone and mucked it up. His friends had told him he sometimes tended to do that, to get caught up in his own emotions, his own idea of how things was supposed to work… Hell, maybe that’s part of why his ex-fiancé had left him, and now he’d gone and done it again, with yet another person who made his heart speed up, and one he’d just met. God, even if he could tell himself he couldn’t have known about what she’d told him before now, he now had gone and put her in the precarious situation of her possibly being seen alone with him, hadn’t he?

He had to do something to fix this.

He tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes stayed fully on the same place as before, unwavering, so he slipped his hand inside of his waistcoat -taking care not to bump his arm into her- and searched for a handkerchief. He felt the edges of lace and was about to pull it out before he remembered the red irritated skin around her arms and collarbone, and thought better of it. Maybe he could…

He dug deeper into his waistcoat before he found it, his old good luck handkerchief his mother had made him as a child, that was completely without a single bit of lace. Feeling proud of himself he pulled it out and presented it to Harriet.

She didn’t look at it.

“You… don’t have to take anything I offer if you don’t want to.” he said, speaking gently but also frankly, “You definitely don’t have to take any pity, and I’m sorry for making it seem like you had to do that, but…” he took a deep breath “I just want you to know that there’s help, or support, here, if you want it… if you think you might be comfortable with taking it.”

She shook her head at him, the sparks of anger and distrust in her eyes showing themselves.

“I mean unconditional support,” he said as steadily as he could at the moment, “Not in a, saviour way, but as, you know, the thing everyone needs, something,” he let out a soft chuckle, “it’s something I need from my pals and my family all the time, never been good at party planning for example,” Harriet only huffed a little at this, but Arthur continued, “it’s also something, I think you could, at least I hope, find helpful. I promise I’ll at the very least do my bloody best. Since the support you get from those bastards you got for family members is pretty piss poor if you ask me.”

There was a faint hint of a smile on her face, but she just turned her head further away from him.

“I’m serious.” Arthur continued, “You don’t, have to accept my support if you don’t want to, but know that you can always call for me, Arthur, if you need something, anything.”

She let out a small huff, and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

“And what do you get out of it?” She asked, and then she let out a small snicker as she turned her head to look at him properly. “What if I ask you to…” she trailed off as her eyes fell on the handkerchief in his hand, her eyebrows raising in surprise. She lifted her hand and pointed at it. “Stain.”

Embarrassment hit Arthur like a stampeding horse as he looked down, remembering the light grey stain that at this point was imbedded into the cloth, and then he immediately adverted his eyes from hers as he tried to explain himself.

“I uh, I’m sorry, I know it isn’t that fancy as you might deserve, I do carry one that is meant for pretty ladies like yourself, but uh, it has a lot of lace, and it seemed like your skin didn’t like it and all.” Oh he was doing so bad, he usually was better at this, but now he could just hear himself rambling like a nervous schoolboy, his face growing warmer as she looked at him in both surprise and suspicion. Nervously he brushed his thumb against the cloth and cringed at the roughness of it. “If I had one that was good enough and without lace I would have given you that one, I swear. You shouldn’t have to choose in between an old rag like this and something actually fitting you. It is clean, but-“

There was a tug at the handkerchief making Arthur stop his babbling, then another tug, rougher this time.

“…Are you letting me borrow this or are you going to keep gripping it?” Her voice piped up and as he turned his head to look at her he found her turned toward him, a small, cautious and crooked smile playing on her lips as she tugged at the handkerchief and looked up at him. Her hand that rested on his shoulder relaxed a little and moved so it was only on his chest, he wondered if she could feel his thundering heartbeat under it.

He hadn’t dared imagine having her smile turned towards him before, and he felt his embarrassment being replaced by a feeling of joy that spread from his chest. He wondered what he had to do to make her smile towards him more, and if he could summon that same smile that grazed her face before in the library and by the fountain again.

It was almost like his wish was immediately granted as he let go of the handkerchief, and Harriet lifted the piece of cloth up to her face with a look of intrigue.

“Why are you carrying it around if it’s not for offering it to people?” She asked, drying her face with the cloth, quickly and efficiently, completely unbothered by it’s roughness.

“Oh, uh,” he mumbled and then cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, for luck.” He admitted feeling a little of the embarrassment from before returning, “My mum, uh mother made it fo-.”

“Harriet!” A restrained but angry yell, cut him off as Ragnar briskly walked up on the gravel path behind them. They both went fully quiet for a moment, but he too thankfully passed.

“What an absolute piss-stain.” Arthur muttered under his breath.

Her eyes went wide and she let out a very unladylike snort, which Arthur to his surprise realised fitted her, and not in a bad way.

“Piss-stain?” She repeated shifting so her elbow was resting on his chest, lifting the hand to cover a small crooked grin hidden under her fingers, “you have some interesting insults.”

“Eh,” he said, scratching at his chin, and feeling the bloom of joy at her smile one more. “It’s not that spectacular, I’ve got some better ones if you wanna hear them sometime.” He laughed to himself softly at the ridiculousness of what he was saying.

More footsteps came into hearing shot, this time two of them, and they passed quickly.

“So, should I… do you want me to do something?” He asked her seriously, his gaze flicking from her to behind them.

“About wha- oh.” She mimicked his eye movement, a look of confusion crossing her face. “Huh.” She muttered, “Nothing? I already told you I don’t need you playing hero.” She said in a sharp tone, leaning back from him and returning her hand to his shoulder.

“And I won’t.” Arthur agreed, he admittedly still felt reluctant about it, but following his instincts seemed in this case to only cause more trouble for her, so he thought it was the best to just stand back and listen to her thoughts on the matter first, “I just, if there’s anything you want me to do… you just have to tell me.”

Harriet let out a huff as she raised her eyebrows at him.

“And what could you do realistically?” She asked him, “Kill him? Kidnap me? Wed me? I don’t want that.” She took a small contemplative pause, “Okay maybe the first one doesn’t sound too bad, but it’s still illegal which makes it messy, and the satisfaction only temporary,” She waved her hand in a circle, “and morally questionable.”

“If it makes you feel better I felt the urge to strangle him a while ago.” Arthur said, although slightly shocked she would admit to such thoughts herself, “But… I’m sure I can do… something?” The fact that she outright stated how she didn’t wish to wed him stung more then he knew it should, but that couldn’t stop him from doing what was right and help the woman where she’d let him. If she’d let him. Please let me do something, he pleaded with her silently.

She looked at him appraisingly and still with a certain caution, and then she sighed, patted her palm on his shoulder before dropping it.

“Maybe,” she simply stated, “but I don’t think we have the time to think of something, I should get back to my sister before she loses her wits completely.” She took a step away from him, and then set her unwavering gaze on him again. “Do not tell a soul about this meeting, or I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t, not a single soul.” He said, knowing full well that he wouldn’t put her in such a situation if she didn’t wish it.

The she took another step away from him and his heart leaped for him to embrace her and not let go. Thankfully he didn’t, but the idea of her being whisked back to a horrible family that mistreated her hurt.

There had to be something he could do, there had to!

“You’re welcome to come to any future balls held by my family, if you wish.” He said after her just as she was about to walk out to the path “Or any other sort of outing that works for you. If it, uh, can give you some sort of relief from, everything.”

“…I’ll consider it.” She nodded, and then disappeared past the hedges, her shoes meeting the gravel, and her footsteps eventually fading away.

The evening wind brushed against his cheek, as he once more stood lonely, alone and chest throbbing with longing. He had been right, he had found another love of his life, but she was in a situation that… well, he didn’t like one bit, but he wasn’t sure what he could do for her. He wanted to make it stop in an instant, he wanted to act now, but that seemed like it wouldn’t be happening. Following his protective instincts to hold and save her had backfired spectacularly, so now he stood there hoping that he would get to see her again. She had struck him as intelligent, hell even brilliant, so a part of him hoped they could figure something out, but that hope rested on the assumption that she even liked him enough for that. Either way, his eyes felt wet, and he felt so goddamn useless.

He slumped to the ground and reached into his waistcoat for his good luck handkerchief…

Only to realise as he dug deeper that he’d never gotten it back from Harriet.

…She had said that she would consider his offer hadn’t she?

And as he then sat there, staring at the suns last rays disappearing bellow the horizon and some faintly hopeful but confused feeling of warmth filling him, a few moments away a tired, jaded and haggard looking woman got into a carriage with her frustrated sister and brother-in-law. Having hidden the handkerchief out of her relatives views in her handbag.

She stared out of the window as they discussed todays happenings (leaving her out of the conversation completely as per usual). As the sister expressed intrigue over the Lord that had shown such interest in her little sister, and as the brother in law stood critical against the Lords abilities to be a fitting husband, the woman held her handbag against her chest, conflicted, but sure of one thing and one thing only.

Tomorrow she would send a letter to him, if only to make sure he got his lucky handkerchief back, and maybe, only maybe, risking it in order to see if the two of them could figure something out.

And maybe in order to once more see that dumb, genuine and flustered smile, and those gentle and expressive eyes of his once more.

#red shoes and the seven dwarfs #red shoes and the 7 dwarfs #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #my post #tw ableism #tw abuse #(just to be safe)

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montessori-mama · 12 days

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I live in America, which means that my three month old is in daycare so that I can go to work and care for other people's babies.

We live in a high cost of living area, so the least expensive daycare is a mortgage payment. I am paying as much in daycare a year as I spent to go to college. According to Chicago Parent Magazine, the US is in a childcare crisis, defined as a lack of affordable or available childcare options. According to the Department of Health and Human Services cited in the article, that means families would pay around 7% of their annual income on childcare, but many families pay up to 15%.

We don't have family in the area who could help provide reliable childcare, so our choices were to either pay a quarter of our annual income to put my son in daycare, or to lose 50% of our annual income and have one of us stay home. I'm not great at math, but I know I can't cut enough coupons to make up that kind of money.

We were lucky to find a Montessori school that is both close and certified, and it was in the mid-range of daycare prices in the area. We went for a visit while I was still pregnant and were impressed by their class sizes, the respectful and calm way the teachers spoke to the children, and the lack of chaos. All of the kids, even the babies, radiated contentment in a way that I had never seen before in a childcare environment. That's not to say that it was silent -- children talked to one another and played, but there was a lack of screaming and meltdowns that I had come to expect from a daycare or school.

I watched a one year-old boy drop his open water cup, and when the teacher handed him a rag and asked him to please clean up his spill, he did so cheerfully. The kid next to him knocked over a bowl of blueberries, and the teacher repeated the ritual, and the two of them worked together to clean up. I was pretty much sold right then.

We are lucky to have found this school. I trust them to care for my son, and he enjoys his time there. We got on the waiting list right after he was born, and thankfully the time on the wait-list was shorter than some people experience (he only was without childcare for a week when a spot opened, so it was about a 3 month wait).

That said, in an ideal world I would be able to either stay home with him until he is at least 6 months or to drop down to part time and have him in school far less. Full time childcare is a lot for a baby, and it's a lot for his mother.

He needs to spend some time in daycare because he will be an only, and it's such a good way for him to learn social skills. It would just be nice if there were also a way to have him home more often and to spend more than 2 hours a day with him that doesn't involve both of us being up all night. We'll have to confine our adventuring to weekends when I am not working, I suppose.

I'm glad we found a place where I know he will be safe and I have seen him be happy. It's just really rough to not see him as much as I want to, and to have to spend all of my time with other people's children when I want to have my own with me.

#parenting #momblr #children #montessori #daycare #working mom

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aspen-mayne · 3 years

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As an autistic person, I've found that professional types of writing are the source of many meltdowns for me. My roommate and I got into a discussion today about just how inaccessible some of these writings are, i.e. research papers, tax forms, job listings, etc.

I've spent the last few months job hunting. During this process, I found myself needing anywhere from 2-14 days of recovery time after doing an afternoon of job hunting because my meltdowns were so taxing, and I am in burnout. I realized a big reason I kept having severe meltdowns was because the job postings were overwhelming. For every job I looked at, I found myself breaking down every sentence into small pieces I could understand. For every piece I didn't know, I had to Google it. Reading through a job description in itself was a chore.

I found myself working up to a meltdown today while filling out forms for a job orientation. What should have taken a person 30 minutes or less, took me 1.5 hours. I had to Google every question and analyze it to understand exactly what I was being asked, so I would not be penalized or fined for answering something incorrectly.

Now, I am a college graduate. I graduated on time with honors and a minor. During college, I found myself breaking down and analyzing texts, articles, and even lectures. It was a wonderful skill I developed, that I often used to help other students digest information when it was overly difficult. This skill helped me to consistently get some of the best grades in class.

But I am struggling here. In the real world.

By all means, I should be okay reading job listings and filling out paperwork, but it's extremely difficult. And I have to wonder, if it's hard for me, someone who has the tools and experience digesting hard to understand pieces of writings, then how hard are these things for other people who don't have that? How accessible is our system really?

I know some people just get it. But I also know that if I'm struggling, others are too. And other people may not have the skills I do that help make things not completely inaccessible to them. And I just- It hurts. I'm angry about it. The things that are vital to survival in America shouldn't be this hard to understand. I should be able to apply for jobs or fill out tax forms without needing recovery time.

If you've ever sat in front of your computer crying over FAFSA, tax forms, job applications, or anything else because it's hard to understand, I'm so sorry.

#actually autistic #autism #asd #autistic #autistic adult #jobhunt #taxpayers #taxes #autism meltdown #meltdowns #autistic burnout #accessibility #inaccessible

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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Ch. 22: Petrichor and Bibliosmia (Library/books)

AO3

Marinette frowned at the rain outside of her window. She had wanted to go to the botanical gardens with Harley and Ivy today. But with the rain, both women decided it would be better to just reschedule. They didn’t want her to get sick. Which, to be fair, was sweet. But still upsetting because she really wanted to go to the gardens. She’d planned on using the plants as inspiration to make something for Ivy.

“Tikki, I’m bored.” She says, looking at her smallest friend. Tikki just looks at her.

“You’ve been stuck inside because of the weather before, Marinette. Why don’t you design?” Tikki suggests. Marinette huffs, flopping back down onto the cushioned window seat.

“But there’s nothing inspiring in my room, Tikki.” She mumbles, before shooting back up. “Do you think any of the boys are here?” She asks.

“Only one way to find out!” Tikki says with a smile, obviously relieved to have avoided any more whining from Marinette. She jumps up, throwing one of Dick’s old hoodies on over her t-shirt. She’d always gotten cold easily, and becoming the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous didn’t help. That, and the manor was cold on a good day- it would probably be freezing with how bad the weather was. She slides down the banister, knowing her Dad was at work and couldn’t yell at her.

“Miss Marinette, if you insist on behaving like your brothers, I will have to resort to treating you like your brothers.” Alfred says with raised eyebrows. But she can sense the smile wanting to break through. She just grins apologetically.

“Sorry, Alfred.” She says. “Speaking of my brothers, are any of them here right now?” She asks. If they’re not, she could probably convince Alfred to bake something with her. As long as she promises not to slide down the banister again.

“I believe Master Jason is in the library. Masters Dick and Damian are in the gym and Master Tim is at Wayne Enterprises with your father.” He says and she hums, thinking. She could go do some training with Dick and Damian, or she could go sit and sketch in the library with Jason.

“Thanks Alfred!” She says, giving him a wide smile before turning and walking down one of the many halls. She glances in open doors as she walks. Despite having lived here for nearly a month, she still got lost going anywhere other than her room, the dining room, the kitchen, and the Batcave. They were kind of the places she’d gone the most. She could also easily find her dad’s study and the main sitting room, most of the time. But the library wasn’t really a place she’d spent a lot of time in. And while she loved Dick and Damian, she also knew that they hadn’t gotten time to hang out just the two of them in a while. She’d talked to Dick before, about how when their dad was missing, he was basically Damian’s father. She knew that bonds like that didn’t just go away, knew that neither boy wanted it to. So she figured she’d just annoy Jay instead of barging in on the others’ bonding time.

Finally finding the library, she grins. Pushing the cracked door open a little more, she moves into the room, jaw dropping. The floor to ceiling bookshelves were packed. There were huge overstuffed couches, and the large windows had window seats attached- perfect little reading nooks. Quickly making a mental note to come to the library more, she starts to search for Jay. She knew he had to be in here. Alfred is never wrong. She grins when she spots him, sitting in what looked like an insanely uncomfortable position, but one she knew from experience was the best.

��Whatchya reading?” She asks, walking over and getting comfortable on the couch next to him.

“<i>Pride and Prejudice<i>.” He says, continuing reading for a moment before putting a little scrap of paper in the book and shutting it. “What’s up, Pixie Pop?” He asks, looking at her with a grin. Marinette sighs dramatically and moves so that she’s upside down on the couch.

“It’s raining. And I was supposed to go to the gardens with Ivy and Harley but they canceled because of my ‘health’ and they were ‘concerned’.” She says with a pout.

“And you decided the library was the best place to curb your boredom? No offense kid, but you don’t seem like the type to read.” He says and she huffs.

“I like books! It’s just-” She pauses, remembering the way Lila had teased her for it back in Paris. Her classmates hadn’t joined in, not really. They’d just agreed that she was a little odd.

“You okay, Pix?” Jason asks, his earlier grin replaced with a slightly concerned look. Marinette winces and nods.

“Yeah it’s- I can read. I swear I can. But when I’m looking at a book, or an article or anything with a lot of text, it gets hard to pick out the pieces. Things just kind of swirl together and then I can’t decode it and I get frustrated and just stop reading. It sucks, ‘cause I do like books. I listen to audiobooks while doing commissions.” She rambles, stopping and turning red. Though that may be from hanging upside down on the couch. Sighing, she sits up and shrugs. “Sorry I’m so weird.” She says. Jason’s face morphs into a scowl.

“Just ‘cause you learn differently doesn’t mean you’re weird, kid. Just means you’ve got your own style. Don’t let any of those little shits you go to school with tell you differently.” He says, reaching out and ruffling her hair. She smiles at him, a genuine happy smile. She was so relieved that he didn’t think she was weird. Or stupid. Lila had thrown that word around. That one hurt. Marinette prided herself on her quick thinking and cleverness. And her grades. They were some of the best in the class! So for Lila to call her stupid…

“Pixie.” Jason says, drawing the nickname out in a sing-song voice. She looks at him and raises an eyebrow. “You were zoned out, kid. So, was there something ya wanna do?” He asks. Marinette glances down at the book in his hand and frowns.

“I don’t wanna keep you from reading. I can just sit in here with you. I’ll probably end up grabbing my sketchbook.” She says. Jason waves in a ‘no big deal’ motion.

“I’ve read this book a million times.” He reassures her. She glances at the cover again, realizing it’s not one she’s really heard much about before.

“What’s it about?” She asks. “I’ve never read it.” Jay’s face morphs into a huge grin.

“You said you like listening to books, right?” He asks. She nods. “Well, then settle in because I’m going to read to you.” He says proudly with a grin.

“Oh, you really don’t-” She tries to say. She didn’t want to make him read to her. That was not-

“Oh but I want to.” He says, effectively cutting off her mental ramble before she can complete her meltdown. “Listen Pix, this is one of my favorite books. If you go listen to some dumb audio book, you won’t get my commentary. Trust me, this is the best way for you to read the book.” He says and she snorts, shaking her head lightly.

“Okay, Jay, let’s read a book.”

---

Finally arriving home after being stuck at the office, Bruce sets off to find his daughter. Since his apology a few days ago, he’d attempted to make an effort to check in on her and see how she was doing. He tried to also do the same with the boys, but they had all given him odd looks, so he didn’t continue. He checks her room, the Batcave, the sitting room- nothing. He finally decides to check the kitchen. If he had to guess, she’d be there baking with Alfred. He walks in and sees Alfred, but no Marinette.

“Good evening, Alfred. Have you seen Marinette?” Bruce asks, silently hoping she hadn’t left the planet again.

“I believe she’s in the library with Master Jason.” Alfred says and Bruce blinks in surprise. He’d never seen her read a book before, while Jason always had a book on him. He supposed it could be a hobby of hers that he just hasn’t noticed. Or, she could have just followed Jason. Which seems more likely. The two of them were all but attached at the hip ever since the Gala. It was surprising, but at the same time welcoming. Thanking Alfred quickly, he walks towards the library. He’d just say hi and leave. No need to make them stop reading if they were having fun. Gently pushing open the library door he walks in and pauses at the sight. Marinette had wrapped herself in a blanket and was almost sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with an intense look of concentration on her face. Jason had his legs swung over the arm of the couch and was reading out loud. Immediately recognizing the book as Jason’s favorite, Bruce slowly leaves the library, careful not to let the door slam. He’d have the chance to talk to Marinette later, but for now, he’d let the two continue reading in peace.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

#maribat #maribat bruce wayne #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #maribat bio dad au #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat jason todd #platonic jasonette #mbdbwm2021 #maribat fanfiction #maribat fic #maribat dick grayson #maribat damian wayne #maribat tim drake #platonic dickinette #platonic daminette #platonic timari

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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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I do so wish people talked less about the EU not being strict enough and more about how they spent years acting all arrogant only to let themselves be so dependant on our resources. Why weren't alternatives found earlier? Why are they only now realising that oops turns out that condemning dictatorships while paying for their gas is actually not that smart after all? Why hand out citizenship left and right to our far-right dirtbags? Why did London spend decades hoarding all our dirty money only to now turn all Pikachu meme while "exposing" our corrupt oligarchs? The West should spend less time condemning our corruption and more thinking about their own. They enabled it. That said, watching our TV elite have public meltdowns over their lost wealth, exposing their hypocrisy, has been quite entertaining.

Another uncomfortable truth is that literally nothing the EU could do can stop this raging moron. Not even pressuring the closest to him would have an impact anymore, he's completely lost it. In this country change only ever happens in one way, and I'm afraid with all these sanctions it's exactly where we are heading. This is about to get really ugly for everyone here.

WELP. This is indeed what I was just talking about in my last post: the West's extensive complicity in enabling systems of corrupt hyper-capitalism, where any money from any source was good, no questions were asked, destabilizing propaganda was embraced as long as it served the powerful elite, and Putin's previous invasions in 2008 and 2014 were essentially met with a shrug and a slap on the wrist, because nobody wanted to upset the apple cart of sweet, sweet Russian black cash. The love of money is the root of all evil, etc etc. And yes, the UK trying to act as if they were leading the charge, while imposing absolutely pathetic initial sanctions and still not having a systemic plan at all to clean up Londongrad, was... something. Nor have the Tories actually pledged to give back all the Russian cash they were donated, not that I would believe them if they did.

Anyway, this is why I have been so determinedly reblogging articles and petitions and other information about Russian anti-war protestors, because a) you and everyone else speaking out against it are brave in a way that I really don't think westerners entirely grasp, and b) it is important, over and over, to emphasize that Putin does NOT speak for the Russian people, they are mad as hell despite the extensive and demonstrable consequences they will experience for saying so, and their only reward for it, if they haven't already been arrested, is that they're going to suffer a whole lot of pain when sanctions kick in. Earlier today, I saw pictures of the mile-long lines of people at ATMs in Moscow at 5am, trying to withdraw their money before the markets open on Monday and the ruble absolutely craters. Of course, Putin is going to take this as a mark of pride and/or do some more nuclear saber-rattling, and it's just a terrible situation for everyone.

I have likewise said many times that for someone bent on recreating the glory days of the Russian Empire and the USSR, Putin is oddly amnesiac about how BOTH of those ended. In the 1917 case, it was... hmm... yeah. And in 1991, the communist hardliners tried the same thing against Gorbachev and were only narrowly foiled (and if I recall, there was a similar attempt in 1993 against Yeltsin). Somehow Putin thinks this won't happen to him, while he's enraged the entire world AND his own people against him. It seems astonishing that in the year 2022, one single madman can cause this much pain for everyone, and yet. Here we are.

Please know that I am thinking about you and all the other Russians who are going to suffer the blowback in any number of ways, and I hope you keep finding the strength to stand up. I wish this wasn't such a clusterfuck, I wish you and everyone else in Russia trying to do the right thing weren't going to suffer so much for the Madness of King Vlad, and hope like hell that somehow this resolves without destroying your entire country. As I said earlier to the other anon stuck in Moscow, please check in and let me know you're safe when you can. I am but a random netizen, but I do really care.

Hugs.

#anonymous #ask #russia ukraine war

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

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Reasons Wretched And Divine (Pt. 8)

(Yoon Min Joon x Reader) (Hybrid au) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers in hidden lies and dead bodies. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks. The clock ticks closer- every second he has with you bringing him closer to zero.

Tags: pregnant! Reader, Dead bodies, hybrid on hybrid violence, referenced police mistreatment/indifference, mentions of emotional/physical abuse, referenced drug use/overdosing, Angst, touch starved characters, violence, explicit sexual content, foursome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, Breeding kink, knotting, dirty talk, unprotected sex, unrealistic amounts of cum, cumplay, marking kink, Dom/sub undertones, Dom! Namjoon- Sub! everyone else, Cum control, Overstimulation, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)

W/c: 20.3k~

A/n: get ready for some nasty af smut~ But also be mindful of the angsty tags. You guys are gonna hate me for the cliffhanger!

Series Masterlist

One month after your husband's death

- Yoongi had learned when and where not to provoke his owner over the years. Yoongi hadn’t been born with the ability to hold his tongue, His biting proclivities earning him more than a few broken ribs and bloody noses in his lifetime. But no matter, his owner had trained his tongue out of him, had even threatened to cut it out on occasion.

- And yet, his personality couldn’t be measured in the same way, a simple eye roll or a huff or sigh was enough to land him in trouble. Which is why he’s in the position he’s in now; Bloody lip, another bruise likely forming under his eye and on his ribs. His head spinning from what is likely another concussion. How many could a person get before they had brain damage? Whatever the number- Yoongi was probably toeing the line or already over it.

- He’s trying to avoid more damage, which is why he sits outside of the living room of their double-wide trailer. His owner has a nicer house somewhere- but this is the place that’s always functioned as the stomping grounds for all of her illegal business. And It’s the only building that Yoongi’s ever been able to call home.

- The yellowing walls that have turned greasy with cigarette smoke over the years, as well as the thin blanket and the pillow that he uses on the couch when no ones hanging around. If they are and the house is filled with gangsters- Yoongi’s usually doomed to the floor or until they leave for the night. Only able to sleep without his back to the wall when the gangsters stop their drugging (usually methamphetamines) and intoxication (most often moonshine)

- More than one person’s overdosed on the couch that Yoongi calls his bed. He tries not to think about it when he goes to sleep. What did it matter if someone else had died here- at least Yoongi was still alive.

- Even breathes stick in Yoongi’s lungs like honey, something dammed and impure. It’s a testament to his nerves (or years of learned abuse) that he doesn’t flinch when the crashes and bangs increase from the other room. It’s just glass breaking- now gunfire- that would have Yoongi ducking and running for cover.

- Revelry like he’s used to surviving through hasn’t existed in recent months, not since the business, or lack thereof had started to seep into every moment like a slow-moving poison. Gang wars are messy and they take years to play out. But it hadn’t been until four weeks ago that his owner’s gang had suffered its first casualty. A gang couldn’t exist without its plug, and now there was a power vacuum in the underworld. And whoever controlled the supply would be the most in-demand.

- “I’ve had enough of your bullshit excuses! If you don’t find the shipment this instant I’m going to start blowing brains like bubbles” his owner screeches. A tumble and shatter sounds from the other room, probably the plate of food Yoongi took in before. Cooking was one of his only valuable skills according to his owner, and he’s spent at least a quarter of his life avoiding a beating by becoming a better cook.

- The threat doesn't bother him. Yoongi barely lets himself think about the business of the gang, the bloodstains and bodies that they’ve most definitely left in their wake. He tries not to let it bother him knowing that there will probably be more in the next few months. His only concern is making sure his body isn’t one of them.

- Yoongi doesn’t care about anything other than keeping himself alive. And even that just barely.

- He listens from outside the door, her screaming finally quieting. This isn’t the first meltdown of her’s he’s witnessed this week. He hears the rustling of papers, silence from her as whoever's on the other side of the phone speaks. “Yeah I have it, fuck- his bitch must really be moving if she already has this in the goddamn paper.” She pauses, and Yoongi hears one of the gangsters stoop to try and clean up the mess that she’s surely made, “If that’s true, I think I know the perfect person for the job- if you can even call it that.”

- It helps that Yoongi’s not expected to speak. Sometimes, when there’s a loud enough noise, or when he sneaks out to walk the sum mile to the beach, Yoongi speaks. Just a sentence or two at a time, his voice gruff and sore after a few words. Just to make sure that he can still do it and hasn’t forgotten how. That his voice still exists hidden somewhere in his chest and his throat. Locked away like a delicate yolk- only able to be seen if you break the eggshell outside.

- “Yoongi!” his owner shrieks, and he has the good sense to hasten to a place where she can see him. He stands in the doorway and doesn’t meet her eyes. There are a few assorted gangsters here. His owner looks unhinged, her flyaway hairs sticking in front of her face, wiping away smudged lipstick and a fair amount of saliva that had dripped down her chin from all her screaming.

- “I have a job for you” She tosses a newspaper at him, and Yoongi catches it easily. Careful not to step into the mess of glass that would surely cut his feet. A drawn red circle cuts through an article on a local high school to highlight something in the purchased ads. Just a little map with a heading “hybrid sanctuary: a safe place, three meals a day. If you or anyone you know has witnessed hybrid abuse, please call this number for help.”

- Yoongi looks up, giving her a short nod. Yoongi will do whatever she needs in order to survive. Anything to keep the blood in his veins and his heart beating.

- He listens patiently while she explains the plan.

---------- Now---------

- The clock ticks, and You don’t find the body until noon. By then there are flies buzzing around him. Blood already dried on those fingertips and underneath His fingernails- the sun warming his body like the hybrid could still be alive.

- You’re just retiring from a day working in the garden (usual and ordinary) when one of the bear hybrids thunders through your door- his eyes wide, shouting for you (strange and surprising). Yoongi is the only one with you; Jimin’s just set off down the hill to change. Namjoon’s not in the house either; helping Jin with more fencing for the animals.

- Your grim expression is mirrored in the terse face of the teenage hybrid that had been going for a walk when he’d found him. You’d started down the hill at a run At least until Yoongi had stopped you. Eyeing your stomach with a worried expression. It’s not that you can’t run or that he doesn’t think you should it’s that the hilly path down to the front entrance is littered with potholes.

- It’s not your first time seeing a dead body (that honor is owed to your late husband) but the unnatural way a body lies still is always incredibly unnerving. You lean over the body nausea rolls in your belly worse than it ever did in the first few months you were battling your morning sickness. But you know you can’t vomit over a crime scene.

- You recognize the body, It’s one of your hybrids; a coyote hybrid that came to you after the second month you were open, and had come and gone quite a bit since then. You need to look at your ledger to know for sure if he was in-between stay or if he’d been here prior to today.

- You tend to be a little laxer with the hybrids that aren’t permanent residents of the farm. You barely even learn the names of the deer hybrids that come for a dinner or two here and there before they go. You’re used to the nomads and this hybrid was one of them. You’re kicking yourself for that now. Because if you have a killer in your mix- a shiver goes down your spine at the thought of any of them being in danger. You need to get all of your hybrids in one place to make sure they’re safe. Right now.

- You turn to yoongi and the teenager; a bear hybrid from Tae's group- Beomgyu. You recall the little details you know about him- how he likes to hang around with Yeonjun and the other cats in the kitchen sometimes. He’s so young, eyes wide, shaking his head making his curved ears flop when he finally tears his eyes away from the body and looks at your face.

- You make your voice more soothing, “Ring the lunch bell- get everyone by the main barns okay? We need to make sure everyone is accounted for” the bear hybrid turns to run up the hill but you catch his arm. “The barns have to direct a line of sight to here- so keep the children in the far-field, after you ring the bell- get Namjoon and Taehyung and tell them to come here before you tell anyone what's happened.” The last thing you need is a group stumbling around here and contaminating a crime scene.

- He leaves with a thunder of footsteps in the dry grass, “Yoongi” you say, “Would you mind going up to the main house to get the logbook and my cellphone?” Yoongi looks like he doesn’t want to leave eyeing the road with a suspicious glare. Making a noise in his throat and staying put. “Yoongi” your voice is strangled- like you’re trying not to cry. “He’s been dead for hours, any danger here has passed, I’m safe- I promise.” but Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your hand and then thinks better of it.

- At the sound of heavy footsteps you both look back up the hill- Namjoon racing in your direction, his ears pinned to his head with Taehyung not far behind. He gives you one final glance and nods before he takes off up the hill. Namjoon stops when they pass, calling his name but Yoongi doesn’t stop. “let him go Namjoon” you call behind.

- The bell that they use to call people in at mealtimes tolls out across the field.

- Yoongi watches as the kits raise their heads from their playing in the field. A look at the sun telling them that it’s too early to be called in for dinner, lunch just finished. The confusion that gives way to panic as he travels through a crowd of older hybrids. He almost runs into one of the cat hybrids as she leaves the kitchen. Shouting back to her friend that’s fussing with something. “Just turn off the stove- something’s wrong we need to go.”

- Yoongi snatches the book from your small office off the living room and thunders back down the porch steps, pausing when he sees it. Anyone else might not have noticed the difference- or noticed it at all. But Yoongi used to survive by noticing the small day-to-day differences in his world; and it’s a habit that hasn’t died even though Yoongi no longer needs it to survive.

- There is a piece of paper stuck behind your windshield wipers on your car. Not a ticket and not a note- but a business card. And Yoongi knows it wasn’t there yesterday.

- Yoongi pauses, your phone in one hand, and the logbook in another. He shoves your phone in his pocket and wastes precious seconds to retrieve it. It’s simple- just plain cardstock a single sentence on the other side. “You’re welcome” there isn’t any signature beside a small doodled bunny rabbit.

- Yoongi knows that signature. Memories dredge up from the bottom of his mind like a swell of cold water washing over him. He’d seen his old owner- (his current owner- his own internal monologue berates him) go into a rage after seeing that same moniker spray-painted across her truck or buildings on more than one occasion.

- Yoongi rolls his tongue over his teeth, putting it together. His owner’s words- dimly alluding to a second mole at the farm- warning Yoongi to be careful. And now this- a thank you card from a rival gang. Chaos whirls around him as different groups run to the barns. He hears Taehyung’s raised voice “Everyone quiet! I need you to listen to me- please!”

- Other hushed words echo from the field as Yoongi puts it together. In a moment, Yoongi knows what’s happened- but he can’t for the life of him understand the motivation.

- What motivation could his owner’s rival have to kill their mole? And if he knew who at the farm was connected to the gang life- why didn’t he kill Yoongi last night too? This body and this note raise too many questions.

- Yoongi doesn’t think it through, just shoves the card into the bottom of his work boot, hiding it so that it lies flat under his sock. Knowing it's better to hide it then hand it over to the police. Yoongi’s hands shake with the very idea of you being caught up in this mess. Although it looks like it's already too late for that. How much less involved can you be with a dead body on your front doorstep?

- If the note is addressed to you? How much do you know about your late husband's business- if anything?

- You attribute Yoongi’s shakiness to the dead body you’re deceptively calm- nausea set aside when he gets back. yoongi nearly runs into taehyung on the way down the hill. Anger an annoyance and worry rolling off the bear hybrid in heady waves. “Don’t worry- Jimin and I have nearly everyone in the barns already, and Daehyun and Hoseok are taking care of the cubs on the other side of the field”

- Taehyung barely looks at Yoongi as he passes, shouting at you over his shoulder. It helps to hear that Jimin is all right, but Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll believe it until he sees the other hybrid with his own two eyes. Namjoon looks much the same. Though he holds your hand tight as he can.

- You call the police the second Yoongi hands over your phone. And together- you wait for them. Namjoon sends an anxious glance both of your ways. It doesn’t take long before you can hear the sirens heading in your direction, echoing out over the empty hills.

- Back up at the barns, Jimin sits on the second floor, the windows are opened to their full capacity to let in a nonexistent breeze. The top floor of the barn isn’t really the most comfortable place to be in the middle of the day, the heat muggy, and all-encompassing. But every dog hybrid is in their bunk room. but it’s too hot to be comfortable regardless of the fans running at full power. Jimin sits on the floor dangling his feet over the side.

- Below- Jimin watches Taehyung as he does a headcount. Clipboard in hand, shouting names and waiting for people to respond. the hybrids have separated themselves by type, bunny hybrids on the outer edge, bear hybrids close to the center around Tae, Cat hybrids on the ground floor to stay out of the sun. Jimin and dog hybrids- the most easily riled up and hardest to contain because of their energy- on the top floor where they’d all stay put and not sneak off.

- Jimin’s room has already been counted, there isn’t much left to do but wait and watch. If he looks over the hillock he can see the police cars and you. The flashing blue and red lights and a small group.

- A small crowd has gathered to watch and linger, police tape set up to the entrance of your farm. A few of your neighbors gathered too at the sound and small-town gossip is sure to follow. Your two closest neighbors- an elderly couple come over to ask you a few questions about all the commotion. They’ve never been unpleasant to you or hostile, still happy that you took their farm animals off their hands many months ago. But they remain firmly separated from your hybrids on either side of a circle of crime scene tape.

- When Jimin looks to the other side, he can see Hoseok and another dog hybrid with the children. Sequestered them with a bunch of games and ice pops on the other side of the hill, away from any and all possibility of them seeing something they shouldn’t.

- Even some of your hybrids linger around the crime scene. the leaders of various groups that need to see for themselves. Beomgyu is here too as well- even though you gave him a look that said you dont need to see this. As it is, you give the teenagers that refuse to go a questioning cross look. Yeonjun in particular just shrugs at you when you give him an expectant look. All of the teenaged hybrids are particularly used to your no-nonsense looks. It doesn’t help that he’s several inches taller than you.

- “You really think this is the first time I’ve seen a dead body?” one of the other cat hybrids has the good sense to cuff him over the back of his head for that one. You know he’s young, but some respect for life and death is something he’ll have to learn at one point or another. If he wants to stay that bad- you’ll let him.

- Namjoon might hate the police, but he does speak their language, and it’s easy for you to sink to his side and rely on him to take over the story as you relate everything you know (which isn’t much). The pack leaders- or what would be the pack leaders all waiting on the fringes. Taehyung comes back to tell you that there isn’t anyone but a few bunny hybrids missing- quickly sniffed out by one of the dog hybrids, all of them looking a little pink-cheeked and embarrassed from whatever they were doing.

- That gets a few laughs out of everyone that’s gathered- Taehyung shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but tempers still remain raised. From the top story of the barn, Jimin watches it unfold. Taehyung shoots him a tired look.

- A quick look at your ledger shows that the last time the hybrid left was just a little over a week ago. Your fingers hover over the date. The book is photographed by the crime scene photographers too, the camera bulbs flashing, a few of your more sensitive hybrids have to turn away- the bright flash too glaring. The officers take little notice of their discomfort.

- They tell you that they might come back to collect it for official evidence. It’s nice to have something to give the police to show them that the hybrid wasn’t in your care when he died. You have a good reputation with them because of your ex-husband as much as you hate to admit it. And it’s jarring to hear you referred to as his widow, especially with Namjoon standing so close, a protective presence between you and the police.

- A few months ago you might have started breaking down when you heard his name, but all you have to do is look at Namjoon to know that you’re okay, you’re both safe.

- Well maybe not now- if you have a killer in your midst then you’re all certainly not as safe as you thought.

- For all the feaux concern they have about the dead hybrid- the ones around you might as well be window dressing. They would have ignored Namjoon entirely if he hadn’t introduced himself as an ex-police hybrid.

- It’s more than that, their unconcern sinks under your skin and makes you want to shout at them as they take his body away in a black body bag. They promise you they’ll try to find whatever killed him. They don’t look too bothered- another dead hybrid isn’t anything new or a cause for panic to them, about as regular as finding any other pet- and not a fucking human being- dead or murdered.

- The police tell you they’ll do what they can- but a dead hybrid is hardly their priority, even if it makes a growl build in Namjoon’s throat when they brush off your concern. Your blood boils.

- But as the sequestering drags on and on into the afternoon- and the temperature increases with every moment everyone still has to stay put. the idle chatter quickly turns agitated. In the main barn- A few of them have been playing cards on and off, most of them in states of undress because of the heat. Jimin is the only man still wearing his shirt, though it’s only his tank top.

- “What the fuck do you think it is? Who do you think killed them?” Jimin listens in on the other hybrid's conversation against his own violation. He’s never been close to the other dog hybrids at the farm save for Namjoon, and he’s not about to start right now. They laugh, but it sounds more like a bark- or a hyena chuckle, “you know me- if there’s an issue my money's always on the snake,”

- Jimin’s head whips around, “Excuse me?” the hybrids turn to him, “oh Jimin- we forgot we were here” if they want that insult to sting- they’re going to have to try a little harder. Jimin was used to being forgotten for the first half of his life, and that won’t start hurting now.

- Sweat drips down the back of Jimin’s neck, “he has a name you know,” he says with no real venom. it’s greeted with resounding scoffs from a few of his bunkmates. He lets the silence sit for a moment before the weight of it grows too oppressive for him to handle, “What?” he says feeling like he’s missing something. The rest of the hybrids in the bunk room fall quiet.

- The dog hybrid- Taeyong- Jimin’s brain reminds him, snickers. “Nothing- just- figures you’d be possessive of him after yesterday.” A flush of heat hits Jimin’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Someone must have seen Yoongi leave the showers and then seen Jimin leave a short minute later looking sex dazed. He knows the meeting had left his scent all smelling like honey arousal. They must have put two and two together.

- Damn those bunny hybrids with their sensitive noses. Now that Jimin thinks about it- Taeyong is a friend of one of them- a small little rabbit called Jihan.

- Jimin shrugs it off because fuck them- he is protective of Yoongi and this conversation only shows the reason for that. But they don’t leave it at that- not at all. Taeyong taps his foot against the floor, grinning and showing the edge of a sharp incisor “Being with him will only end you in an early grave you know, but you might as well keep your head down and enjoy your one-way ticket to living up at the big house.”

- “That’s not why I’m- we’re not-“ he doesn’t know what to say, he can’t say that he’s with Yoongi- not officially, not yet. And though there is something with them. Jimin doesn’t know how to put a name to it. let alone how to put a name to what he has with all of you.

- There must be something written on his face, because the hybrid sits back, satisfied that he’s hit Jimin with something that can stick. The other hybrids snicker. A fair few turn away- sensing the fight that’s about to develop, content to stay out of it.

- “You know he doesn’t deserve to be up at the big house right,” Jimin can’t stop himself from getting angry at the calloused way they talk about Yoongi. His temper rising with the heat, Jimin has never been good at holding his tongue, and maybe it’s his fault that things happen the way they do. Jimin rises, and so does Taeyong, Suddenly chest to chest, “well if he doesn’t deserve it- you certainly don’t, maybe if you guys were just kind for once in your life you’d be staying up there too.” Jimin barks.

- A few other hybrids blanch, and more turn away, Jimin’s misspoke- can judge by the silence that he’s the one being judged. “And I actually happen to enjoy their company- I’m not-”

- Jimin knows what he’s just insinuated, that being loved is just a correlation of being kind and pleasant to be around. (You’ve been talking through that particular thing with him. The fawn response to abuse. And Jimin knows he should unpack that later, but like many other things- it just slips out. His post-traumatic stress disorder makes him think things he knows are wrong. He doesn’t believe the words he says, not really.)

- Taeyong steps forwards, and Jimin shrinks back sudden bravery forgotten. “You’re not what? Being a manipulative little puppy? Batting your eyes at them so that you could get a spot? Go tell that lie to someone who believes you. You might be a puppy, but you’re a snake to your core.”

- Jimin has never wanted Taehyung to be there more than now. Where is he when he needs him? Jimin looks back through the open window, but Taehyung isn’t below them on the patio. Their fight seems to have gotten more than a little attention. Wide eyes upturned, startled by the sound of raised voices. It's the wrong moment to look away because suddenly Jimin’s reeling from a shove, two hands on either shoulder.

- Jimin catches himself on the window frame. The open space taunting and frightening. All at once, the image hits him; another well-placed shove- Jimin falling- cracking against the slate patio outside where you usually set up dinner, the ground hard and unforgiving. Bones breaking.

- Jimin isn’t sure why he says it; “No wonder why you haven’t got adopted if this is how you act when someone disagrees with you.”

- Jimin’s never fallen from any height before. But he’s been tossed and pushed and shoved, and never learned how to fight back. He freezes now at the memory of it. He’s been shoved into concrete before, and he bets slate hurts just as much.

- “Don’t pretend like you haven’t had your eyes set on the big house since you first got here puppy, little thing like you probably just wants to be owned- how do you even have an ounce of self-“

- Jimin gets shoved again, and he barely manages to hold his ground. Taeyong grips his shirt in both his fists, lifting Jimin up so that he struggles to keep his feet on the ground.

- From below, he hears a shriek, His name shouted from your mouth. You run as fast as you can, Yoongi stayed behind to help you. His face turned up imploring at Jimin. Jimin hears the thud of Namjoon’s feet on the wooden floor below. He and Taehyung, as they take the stairs two at a time. Jimin doesn’t know how they knew to come, or how suddenly everything’s escalated.

- The other hybrid steps forward, and there is nowhere left for him to go, Jimin grips the window frame, and tries not to let go.

- Namjoon’s words can barely be made out around the growl, suddenly in the doorway. Jimin keeps his eyes on the hybrid in front of him. Not at Namjoon’s face, screwed tight with anger. “Enough, step away from him.”

- Namjoon looks more threatening than Jimin’s ever seen him, teeth bared, ready to attack. His curved ears quivering as Namjoon seems to swell in the doorway, his eyes shiny and reflective in the half-light. An alpha ready to protect his own. The scars that crisscross his face a reminder of the lengths he’s willing to go to protect his family.

- A sheepish looking Taehyung toes the line behind him, “I’m sorry- I heard the beginning outside the door and went to get them” Jimin is at once thankful for Taehyung and a little angry- because really? He couldn’t be bothered to just intervene then? Taeyong seems to think for a moment before he lets Jimin go. Jimin sees Namjoon’s hands tighten into fists by his side. The threat of what he might have tried to do dissipating. You rush forward with Yoongi, pulling Jimin out of the doorway.

- More than one hybrid in the room jerks when you get too close to the window. They can’t help it- for many of them, you’re the only human they’ve had a positive relationship with. And the dog hybrids are nothing if not a loyal bunch. Which is probably why Taeyong shrinks back, nostrils flared- still angry and feeling threatened. like a cornered animal.

- Jimin tries not to run back to Namjoon’s side- but it's hard, especially when he makes eye contact with Yoongi. Your chest heaving blinking away tears as You pull Jimin to you easily, a hand on his cheek. Eyes so worried, searching his face and his frame for even a hint of damage. The words are out of his mouth before he even has a chance “I’m okay- it’s okay- I’m fine.”

- “It wasn’t my fault, Jimin started it” you look up, and Jimin can tell from the tilt of your eyes that you don’t believe them for a second, your voice is shaky when you speak, so quiet. and jimin wonders- how many other times you’d spoken up like this in your past against your ex-husband and gotten hurt for it. It takes no small amount of bravery for you to speak now and Jimin’s arms tighten protectively around you.

- “This isn’t- this isn’t how you treat another person Taeyong even if he did start it- you don’t react with violence.” one of the other hybrids shakes his head at Taeyong- but he doesn't react well to your words. Bearing his teeth at you and it takes every ounce of self-control for your three hybrids not to jump in front of you at such an obvious display of aggression.

- “He shoved me first” Taeyong lies, and Namjoon answers it with a growl. stepping up to go chest to chest with him in much the same way that Jimin had just minutes before. The other dog hybrid crumbles against the alphas stare. “Would you like to repeat that? or do you maybe want to tell the truth this time?”

- You pull Jimin behind you and Namjoon steps between you and the other hybrids, looming and large in the small space. “If I hear that you're causing any more trouble you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can say “it wasn’t my fault” Namjoon barks, turns, both you and he have a hand on Jimin’s trembling shoulders. When did they start shaking?

- A sudden hush has settled over the hybrids, everyone is here to witness it. And it doesn’t make sense until they hear a set of quiet footsteps at the door. “Is everything alright miss?” the police officer says in the doorway, suspiciously eyeing the hybrids. His hand hovering dangerously close to the gun in his holster. The fucking police- Jimin had almost forgotten they were here.

- You don’t look shaken, stepping back to be between him and your hybrids, and the police officers' shoulders relax. You’re so disarming- Jimin barely sees you shake even though he can smell the distress rolling off of you in waves. Turning your usual scent all muddy. Your smile is strained, “No officer- everyone’s just a little bit high strung right now I think. We’re fine.”

- “Sorry for that distraction, we can continue up to the main house if you’d like. After you.” You set back off down the steps and Jimin knows what you’re doing- keeping the police officer away from them because you know how twitchy the cops make most of the hybrids. “No thank you- I dont think that will be necessary. As your k-9 unit specified earlier in his interview the crime scene is mostly contained in the driveway. I think we’ve seen enough.”

- Jimin can’t help but stumble to Namjoon’s side, pressed tight under the arm of his alpha. Namjoon’s disarmed by Jimin's sudden need for affection; for his alpha all around him. “We’ll talk about this later” Taehyung glowers at the other hybrids and they all fall silent. Namjoon’s ire- they might be a little more used to but Taehyung’s anger is used a little more sparingly. The four of them, Yoongi, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung the unlikely fourth turn to leave.

- You’re already in the lower level of the barn when Taeyong speaks, his voice low to keep it out of earshot from you. “Sure thing pet,” Taeyong says under his breath- though really what was he trying to do? Everyone here had above average hearing- so really, his whispered insults whereas good as speaking at normal volume.

- And to a hybrid- being called a pet is the ultimate insult.

- Namjoon freezes in the doorway, no matter that Jimin’s hand pulls at the arm of his long-sleeved shirt. A whine building for him to just leave it alone. Namjoon turns, jabbing his finger at Taeyong. “I want you gone before sundown tomorrow.”

- The four of them head down the stairs, leaving the silent room. The ground floor of the largest barn the area is flush with activity. With hybrids going every which way you must have decided that it was okay for everyone to return to their days as normal. Someone calls Taehyung’s name, asking for his help with something before he’s even fully down the narrow steps, Taehyung sends Jimin a single discerning look before he leaves. Namjoon utters a soft thank you to him as he slips away.

- In the grass- you share one final word with the police officer, shaking his hand with one hand resting on your baby bump. Though Jimin can tell from the way you hold yourself it's the last thing you want to do. He nods at Namjoon once as they approach and heads off down the hill. You’re quiet for a moment, going to hold jimin’s hand while Namjoon and Yoongi mill. None of you are sure what to do next.

- “I’m assuming Taeyong won’t be a problem anymore?” Namjoon has the good sense to look a little abashed at that. “He said- there was- he’ll be gone by tomorrow afternoon.” Is all he says, and you nod, giving a sad look back to the barns. But you don’t counter what Namjoon’s said.

- And while Jimin knows there needs to be some sort of order here- it still seems a little extreme. Even if the threat of bodily harm was there- he didn’t actually do anything. It seems a little severe to throw them out for just a couple of words, and a shove. He tells Namjoon this much as they walk up the footpath to the main house.

- You whip your head around, looking stricken, and Jimin have to struggle not to flinch back, you look almost angry with yourself for the sudden movement. all of you are a little on edge. “He almost hurt you Jimin! he was about to-“ Yoongi fists a hand in the back of Jimin’s shirt, “if he’d hurt you I don’t know what I’d-“ you break off, and Jimin sees you sigh and the breath sounds all rickety like there's something else rattling around in your lungs. You shake your head and hold onto his hand tighter.

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip and keeps walking towards the main house after a moment. And he can’t help feeling like he was the one who kind of did start it. A hand on your arm to help you up the steps. You’re getting more and more pregnant every day, and your baby bump has become more of a mound than the small bulge you had when Jimin first came.

- Jimin just wants to make sure you don’t wobble or trip. Unable to shake the feeling that the reason why Namjoon had punished the others was because of how they’d treated Jimin- and not because of any rules.

- Jimin’s gotten to know you and Namjoon pretty well over the last few months, but the way Namjoon keeps his head down, playing with his hands, makes him look younger and more open than he’s ever been around Jimin. Namjoon and Jimin linger just inside your house. standing quietly- letting their tempers fade.

- The cat hybrids have already started dinner, the clamor familiar and comforting. One of them hears you come in and calls your name; Yoongi is close behind, he doesn’t look at Jimin. And Jimin smells his scent- his fluffy marshmallow goodness twined with a hint of something burn and feels the guilt clinging to him like bad perfume. He’s about to head after him when Namjoon grabs his shoulder. “Should I- you’re going to stay up here right?”

- Jimin sucks on his lower lip. and even he has to admit that staying up here tonight is a more attractive offer than returning to the barns anytime soon. “Yes- if you want me too” Namjoon nods, looks shy, but Jimin can tell what he’s feeling through his scent. The worry makes the pine strong and musky and tempts Jimin to curl up in it. Namjoon couldn’t tolerate being separated from any of his pack right now; not with the danger of a killer on the loose. Namjoon tugs him in the direction of the stairs. “There’s something I want to show you then.”

- The last time he’d been up on the more private floor of your house he hadn’t really had any time to explore. Namjoon leads him to one of the unknown and previously unopened doors that line the long hallway between your master suite and the stairs, pointing out Yoongi’s room as they go. The room is small and more than a little dusty. But it’s the closest unoccupied room to the master suite and across the hall from Yoongi’s. “Oh” Jimin realizes as it clicks, “you meant stay- as in move in stay.”

- Namjoon has to kick away boxes of Christmas decorations to get to the queen covered with a white sheet that fluffs with dust when he pulls away. Jimin touches the edge softly. He’s never had a bed so big all to himself before- he doesn’t know how he’s going to handle so much vacant space next to him.

- There will be no soft sounds of sleep and rising chests when Jimin wakes in the middle of the night. Only the sounds of the house, and even though this means he’ll get to spend more time with you, Namjoon, and Yoongi, the room can’t help but feel lonely. Something in his chest reminds him that he’s not really that far, Yoongi’s room is across the hall, and yours just a few steps after that.

- Maybe he won’t feel so lonely after all.

- The windows are covered with thick drapes, kind of small in themselves. And it makes the room feel darker and cold. “We’ll move out the decorations to the attic tomorrow, are you gonna be okay with this for tonight? We can get you some fresh sheets and blankets.”

- Jimin nods hands tugging back the curtains to let more light in. Namjoon reaches around him to crack it open when the window sticks. Even though this room doesn’t feel like his yet. Namjoon almost drops a box of decorations “you could also sleep in our room if you want?”

- Jimin can’t do much more than just blush and nod, stuttering out that he’ll decide later. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be all snuggled close between you and Namjoon it’s just that- things are happening a little too fast. Jimin feels like he might need a night to just decompress.

- The body, the police, the fight, and Jimin almost falling through the window. For some reason, Jimin feels paralyzed in that doorway. On one hand, he’s happy that he has a room here now that he doesn’t have to go back to the bunk room for more than his clothes, and on the other hand he’s sure he doesn’t deserve it.

- Like Namjoon can sense he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to feel, he pulls Jimin to follow him. Gentle orders that tell Jimin what to do with his body and give his mind a second to catch up. Namjoon retrieves fresh linens and a big fluffy blanket from the closet while Jimin hovers hugging a pillow to his chest.

- The elder prattles along to Jimin about getting him some more things to fill the room like a dresser when Jimin notices it. A small narrow door that’s mostly glass down the hall from your master bedroom and the bathroom that Jimin assumes he’ll share with Yoongi.

- Unless Yoongi has a bathroom in his room. Jimin asks Namjoon- who tells Jimin that he does and Jimin pouts. He has to admit he wouldn’t mind Sharing a bathroom with Yoongi. Flashbacks of that night, of Yoongi’s skin, pressed close to his underneath the deluge of water- consume him for a moment at the thought of that.

- Before he pads over to see the other room at the end of the hallway. It’s narrow, only the with of the couch at the end and twice as long, Jimin could probably touch both walls if he lied down on the floor Waist height windows ring the outside of the room and a few skylights cast square shadows on the floor, The roof slanted down at one edge.

- A single potted plant sits on the waist-high shelf- crusty and brown from no one watering it. He orients himself in the house to figure out what room is below him but the smells and sounds drifting up from the floor tells him he’s somewhere above the kitchens.

- He stands in the doorway. A thick layer of dust sits on everything. But the light is amazing. All golden in the afternoon haze though that might just be the walls. The light yellow paint is faded, cracked a bit by the doorway but it's nothing a fresh coat couldn’t fix.

- Jimin knows the second he sees it that he wants it.

- Namjoon finds him standing in the doorway. Already looking out the windows- he can see the gardens from here and the woods that stretch beyond. And the edge of a falling-down barn yet to be restored by you and Namjoon- and a tiny sliver of the river. “What- what is this?” Jimin’s voice is so hushed. So quiet, like he’s worried about disturbing the dust.

- Namjoon comes up close behind him, putting his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. “It’s a sunroom.” Namjoon clarifies. In the afternoon light, Namjoon’s skin looks honeyed and golden, horizontal shafts of light stretching across his face. Namjoon pulls Jimin close, nose running along his hairline and near his ears, nuzzling into them. His back the perfect place for Jimin to rest his heavy shoulders.

- “Is it okay if I- can I stay here and not the other room?” Namjoon’s smile is reassuring and gentle, “probably, but let's ask.” Of course, Namjoon would know Jimin needed explicit permission right now- needs the sureness of a yes or no from you.

- The sight that awaits Namjoon and Jimin in the living room is one that warms both of their hearts. You and Yoongi sitting side by side in front of the television. you’re listing into Yoongi sleepily head on his shoulder. Your eyes fluttering against your cheek adorably. Yoongi sends Namjoon a panicked look which means “please save me from her she’s being needy” but at least Yoongi isn’t shaking and going all panicky.

- With a word from Namjoon you wake, sitting up straight and yawning, taking in Jimin hovering on the steps, your smile sleepy and a little dopy. Your eyes still half-closed still looking soft and an inch from resting as you need.

- Namjoon’s hand rubs up and down your swollen exposed ankle. His voice honeyed like he doesn’t really want to wake you up. Hell Jimin would carry you up the stairs to let you rest in your own bed and not the couch even though it's barely 5 pm. It's been a long day for all of you.

- “Hey, can Jimin take the sunroom instead of the other room?” Yoongi gives a little surprised noise, eyebrows lifting in question, you seem to share his confusion. Jimin realizes that you must have already talked about which room would be his, and whole new warmth floods him. “Are you sure? That room’s a little small.”

- “I’d like to stay in there if you’ll let me- I mean- I can go back to the barns too” maybe he’d go to the girl side this time- he’s sure they wouldn’t be nearly as bad as the male hybrids. Namjoon and Yoongi look upset that he’d even try to suggest that. “Take the sunroom Jiminie,” you say, Namjoon and Jimin watch as Yoongi’s hands shake when he reaches forward before he slowly draws his hands through your hair, and you arch into he touch. If you were a hybrid Jimin thinks you’d be purring.

- Namjoon does actually end up carrying you upstairs, despite your protests that you could do it yourself. Yoongi makes a noise in the back of his throat, and Jimin finishes it for him saying, “we’ll make dinner, you should rest.” Namjoon pauses on the lower step with you in his arms, and Jimin feels something in him settle. There isn’t a little bit of you that doesn’t want him to stay here, the way you so easily give up space for Jimin to be accepted into your routine- your home.

- It’s good; it feels good to knock shoulders with Yoongi in the kitchen, the craziness of the day calmed as the cat hybrids bring the food down to the barns for everyone.

- Taehyung stops by briefly to have a word with Namjoon- telling the elder that they have a rotating watch figured out for tonight to make sure nothing else happens. Taehyung empties out with the other cats, leaving just Jimin and Yoongi. It’s harder than it should be, but Yoongi instructs Jimin on how to do the chopping with a careful and slow demonstration while he starts on the stew.

- When Namjoon reappears a few minutes later he puts on the radio- switching it to something a little bit more his style, not kitschy pop or idealistic questionable country music, though Jimin doesn’t like it at first listen, he hears Yoongi humming along and figures- it’s enough to have them enjoy it. Especially to see Namjoon try and fail to shake his ass.

- The night gets even better when Jimin goes to get you from your bed, calling your name so you wake up with barely a huff as you blink at him. You look so soft Jimin can’t resist it, leaning forward to peck a kiss on your forehead.

- You eat dinner on the porch, and the night gets better with every moment. every second Jimin realizes that he always should have been here. The love filling Jimin up just like the fresh bread and Yoongi’s stew, Namjoon and Jimin go inside halfway through the dinner to get blankets for you and Yoongi.

- Dinner reinvigorates you four, and though Jimin protests “I can just sleep in the other room tonight it’s really not a big deal” Namjoon and Yoongi shake their heads at him, though you're left out since you really can’t lift anything.

- After dinner Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin pull down the attic stairs from the hallway, and go up to the third floor to find a bed that will fit in the sunroom. You shout and pull yoongi out of the way when Namjoon and Jimin lose their grip and the soft mattress clangs down the stairs, sliding with a soft thump. They’re more careful with the box spring.

- They shout and huff with joyful frustration when the couch gets stuck in the doorway of the sunroom. The kind of happiness that comes with a problem that you can fix- and like who you fix it with. And finally, when you fit the double bed into the space it just barely fits. You set the bed up with pillows and sheets asking Jimin again and again if he really doesn’t mind just the single bed while Namjoon and Yoongi put the green velvet couch outside in the hallway nook, just across from the bathroom.

- The first morning Jimin wakes in the sunroom is the most peaceful morning he’s ever gotten. The light comes in so early that it’s hard for him to sleep past sunrise. From all the way up here, he can see the way that the dew on the grass makes the whole field sway and sparkle like the ocean. He taps his toes against the wall as he sits up and looks out, and hears a knock at his door. A soft rap on the glass.

- The sounds he hears below say he’s not the only one awake in the house. And still, the sight of you in your extra-large sleeping clothes and your robe makes him surprised. Though the tangled mess of your hair says you’re barely awake. Jimin slept so well that his ears hang nearly in front of his eyes, soft little floppy things that you push out of the way, Pushing back his wild hair as you do it. You have two cups of hot coffee in your hands. One, which you sit on the shelf that rings the room, and the other that you press into his hands, the warm ceramic a welcomed weight.

- Jimin helps you sit, a hand on your lower back to ease the ache. Without really thinking he guides you to sit back against his chest. It’s quiet and it’s lovely. And Jimin trails his nose down your shoulder and holds you loosely around your waist. “I forgot how nice this room is.” You say after your cup is halfway gone, Jimin’s cheek rested against your shoulder.

- “It’s so bright- I love it.” when Jimin closes his eyes he can still see the dark garage where he used to sleep- was it barely 4 months ago? Is he okay now? Is it okay to hope? Can he really count on things to be okay? To count that they won’t get bad again?

- With you in his arms, Jimin feels like it’s okay to hope for more good things.

- It feels like the right time to say it, the light spilling into the little yellow room, his tail thumping against the bed. The soft comforter that you picked out for him last night encircling you both like a halo.

- The words are gentle, and they��re the truest Jimin’s ever said, “I love you” you smile over the edge of your coffee cup, lips soft and pink like two bright petals, happy little flowers like happy moments blooming with frequency. Every soft thing that Jimin’s ever wanted or dreamed of. Every way you could love a person- that's the way that Jimin loves you. And it feels like an unbreakable promise when you smile up at him. “I love you too Minnie.”

- And that’s how it happens. He says it again over breakfast and Namjoon barely lifts his eyebrows in wonder. But his tail betrays his attention, His tail kicking up a happy rhythm. Now that he’s said it- he feels like he doesn’t want to stop.

- Yoongi pays the revelation a little more attention, making prolonged eye contact with jimin and stumbling around the kitchen half asleep like usual. But isn’t Yoongi the one who had taught Jimin how to love like this? That love is not really about saying it- but showing it. Yoongi- who he’s still never heard speak. and Somehow it doesn’t bother Jimin as much anymore.

- The next morning goes much like that- as does the next and the next. You spend the late nights all cuddled up together on the couches watching movies or sometimes you’ll retire to your small study room on the first floor to do some work- typing away on your computer. Calculating monthly costs, balancing your budget, submitting your paperwork on time to get funding from the state- the endless budgeting.

- Sometimes Yoongi helps, and you dictate numbers while he adds them up. Namjoon and Jimin sit on opposite ends of the couch, Jimin’s feet in Namjoon’s lap. And Jimin gets to watch the way Namjoon looks at you and Yoongi. “You really love them don’t you?” Jimin asks, worried about sounding jealous, but how could he really be jealous of that? Namjoon’s dimples are the most beautiful thing- Namjoon is the most beautiful thing when he’s happy. He nods shyly on the other edge of the couch. “Yes, so come here.”

- The aborted whine that tones out is enough to grab Yoongi’s attention when Namjoon clutches Jimin to his chest. The snake hybrid’s head appearing over the edge of the couch. The huffing sound that all of you associate with Yoongi’s laugh makes Jimin blush as Namjoon curls a strong arm around his waist. A deep rumbling in his chest similar to a purr as Jimin settles there. He can hear Namjoon’s heartbeat and ends up falling asleep to it.

- Other evenings you’ll make smoothies with them or root beer floats, teasing Yoongi for the foam on his upper lip. Jimin finds himself sinking into this easy happiness. Now when he wakes up in the morning. He doesn’t have the ire of the others to contend with. Though he makes sure to keep up his friendships.

- he follows Taehyung around more often now that he sees the four of you every waking moment. Taehyung and Jimin spend a few days together helping Seokjin and Hoseok clean out one of the unused barns together.

- He comes upon the two of them; that is Hoseok and Seokjin, sitting in the grass one day. The older hybrids hand laced in Hoseok’s curly hair. Taehyung murmurs to Jimin that they should just make it official already.

- He’d caught Hoseok sneaking out of the barns to head to Seokjin’s room more than once when he still lived in with the others. Since Seokjin is the only hybrid besides your little group that doesn’t stay in one of the main barns. And there were only so many places that Hoseok could be trying to go at that hour.

- They do make it official - though it takes a few days.

- It was early morning- just after breakfast and the three of you’d been buzzing with happy energy, Namjoon already half of the way out the door. Almost crashing into them where they’d waited unsure on your porch. “oh! Jin hyung! Hobi hyung!”

- Your morning plans for the usual gardening had been put on pause, Seokjin and Hoseok sitting hand in hand at the prep table while your hybrids try not to listen in. Namjoon doesn’t even bother - just stands behind you and rubs your shoulders while you listen. Their hands bound over the top of the table.

- “We’d do all of the work ourselves, and you know I wouldn’t ask you for any money for it- we want to do it on our own” Jin smiles, and you’ve never seen such a gently happy expression on his face. Next to him- the otter sits closer. Looking up at Jin like there isn’t anything more precious than he could hold in his hands. And while their love hadn’t completely escaped your notice- this is still a surprise.

- Seokjin makes a fair amount of money selling his yarns and other knitted goods from the alpacas and the sheep. You’d always been firm that he should keep the money he makes from it for himself and not give it to you to put into the farm. The same way you let the bear hybrids keep the money they make from harvesting the honey. You don’t own them- they’re their own people.

- One of the first things that Seokjin had bought with his money was a cellphone, and he and Hoseok excitedly show you ideas for tiny homes on Pinterest, boards of colorful little new England style cabins, loft beds, and micro-fridges. “We already have one in mind- you know the little cabin by the river?”

- Namjoon pipes up “you mean the old chicken coop? We can build you something nicer- the roof of that one is shot though- you’ll need an extra hand,” you look at their plans, careful doodles, and color swatches, nodding. “we’ll help you, of course, we’ll help you both.”

- And that’s how Seokjin and Hoseok had started work on their home. A separate place away from the rest of the farm for just the two of them to get some privacy. Though it's still on your property; neither of them has any sort of desire to ever leave the farm or each other now that they’ve found their mate.

- The house isn’t more than 200 square feet. And the roof does need a fair bit of work. But it’s not just a chicken coop like Namjoon had said, it’s got nice bones and a good foundation. It’s close enough to the animal barns where Seokjin will still be able to check on the animals every morning, but closer to the river.

- You don’t realize the significance of this until you’re helping them one day, Namjoon, Yoongi making quick work of some loose floorboards and the one wall that needs to be replaced. While Jimin and hoseok watch on- deemed a little too clumsy to help with some of the work. They look for wood-burning stoves on craigslist and other things that they’ll need to make the house complete.

- Seokjin takes a moment, coming to your side to get some of your offered lemonade, his hair tied back with a bandana. Sipping at it as he looks at Hoseok and Jimin. their feet dangling over the edge of the streambed. “He finds it calming- he can’t sleep without the ocean. That’s how I first noticed him- I caught him sneaking out one night just to listen to the running water.” Seokjin had confessed to you, watching Jimin and hoseok giggle at paint names as they flip through a color swatch book. A far cry away from how they’d once been.

- This little cabin is certainly close enough, a mere ten feet from the shore of the stream. And with all the windows open you can hear the babbling brook and the sound of the birds in the forest. Before they retire to Seokjin’s room above the stables. Both Hoseok and Seokjin stand in the cabin, taking their shoes off to feel the floor below them and think- this is it- this is our home. Holding each other close while they listen. Even if it will take another few months to get it truly in livable condition- to set the walls with insulation and electricity. This will be their home.

- But first, they cleaned it out. The whole bottom floor filled with dusty jam jars and weird bottles that Seokjin thinks must have been for moonshine. The next day- Jimin finds a few of the glass bottles have made the way into his new room. As Namjoon struggles to put together his new dresser, and Yoongi takes It over after Namjoon lets out his 5th frustrated sigh. They’re cleaned and polished, a small little rainbow of glass, filled with water and flowers that you pick with Jimin.

- Every morning you bring him coffee in his room. And it slowly progresses from there, sometimes you just leave it and let him sleep. Other mornings. Jimin gets to wake up with you in his arms. Watching him or cuddling him close. He Wakes to a press of lips against his forehead and your hands in his hair.

- His body always knows before he wakes. He’ll wake to find himself nuzzled close, or pulling you closer with greedy hands. He feels greedy with you now that he can have you every morning, though Namjoon gets the evenings.

- And when he falls asleep at night his sheets smell like you, like peaches and cream. And then one morning he wakes pressed chest to chest with you. Your baby bump taking up significant space on Jimin’s tiny bed. And without thinking, He tilts his face forward. Kissing you softly and simply. Pulling away, whispering good morning. The pink in your cheeks says you’re shocked, but you pick up like it’s nothing The same way you took his confession.

- Kissing you is nothing like kissing Yoongi- at least not at first. It starts slow- just the simple press of softness against softness, lip to lip, and breath to breath. Until Jimin gets the hot feeling in his mouth and both of you open your lips and start to get a little lost in each other.

- The kind of kiss that makes Jimin want to reach out and hold onto you and never ever let you leave this bed. The kind of kiss that takes both of you apart gently and slowly and so carefully. Has him growing hard in his pants more than once. But you’re both shy- both so scared of pushing this any farther before the timing is right.

- Sometimes, Jimin will wake to you in his bed and Namjoon smiling softly at both of you from the door. “You know- you could always just sleep in our bed.” and Jimin knows that Namjoon might be just the tiniest bit jealous. Jimin has been stealing you away in the mornings after all- and it must be hard for him not to snuggle his mate every goddamn day especially with how soft and needy you smell. It’s so hard to leave the bed some days.

- There are more kisses after that before you go up to bed at night. Yoongi and Namjoon stretched out on the couch, Namjoon prattling on about how inaccurate a movie is while Yoongi indulges him and nods along. You kiss Jimin on the steps, winding your arms around his neck so sweetly, Yoongi wolf whistles and Namjoon chortles, “get a room!”

- But when Jimin looks over Namjoon just winks at him, and keeps talking. Like it’s nothing to kiss you so sweetly and normal to do it in front of them. There are no secrets between the four of you. Maybe there are things that are left unsaid and uncommunicated- but there are no secrets.

- And that’s how Jimin first starts to fall into you. Easy and simple, like kisses and coffee in the morning. And Jimin loves everyone. Loves you so much sometimes it feels like his heart is going to break with it all.

- Jimin wishes his wanting stopped with the kisses, but it doesn’t, if anything it only grows. An ache in his jaw that wants to bite and consume like that moment with the kisses and Yoongi- he wants to kiss you deeper and deeper but it never ends up going that way. Not even when your bare thighs brush him in the morning and Jimin can tell you’re only wearing underwear underneath the shirt that smells so much like Namjoon.

- Jimin smells you on Namjoon, smells Namjoon on you, and wants and wants and wants. It’s worse on the mornings that you’re a little late coming to Jimin’s bed, and on the ones where you come in smelling undeniably like Yoongi too. And Jimin can’t fathom what it means and isn’t brave enough to ask.

- He asks Taehyung what it could mean- confessing it all in a rush one afternoon while they process some of the honey. Heating up the wax in the kitchen. Tae just laughs at him. “Are you sure they’re not all together? I mean- they are your pack Jiminie and he’s lived there longer than you have.” Yoongi has lived in your home longer. And it stands to reason if you and Namjoon have invited Jimin to your bed, that you might have invited Yoongi too.

- But Jimin doesn’t know for sure until one morning he wakes restless, his bed vacant. He can hear soft steps in your room. But when he peers down the hall, he’s shocked to find Yoongi softly closing the door behind him. His hair looks a little ruffled, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips as he slinks off to his own bedroom.

- You’re not the only one bed-hopping. And Jimin thinks about what it might mean. Yoongi hasn’t come to Jimin’s room. And he thinks back to the way Yoongi kissed him like it was the best and the worst, the sweetest but most forbidden thing. Maybe he’s just too nervous.

- Yoongi stays up late with Jimin, and they can both hear and smell the arousal that shoots down the stairs from both of you. Jimin has smelt it more than once by now, on you or on the air that bacons them- as members of the same pack to the same place. Jimin wonders how Yoongi handles it. Because it has Jimin growing half hard in his pajama pants, shifting on the couch needy. Yoongi’s too from the looks of it- but the snake never makes a move. Your moans echo from upstairs, their sensitive hybrid ears can hear every word that you share. And Jimin can almost taste you on the air.

- Namjoon’s gentle teasing growl is faint as is his words, “do you want them to hear you, my love? is that why you’re being so loud?- or is this” Namjoon pauses, and a wet sound fills the silence, “just too much for you?”

- At night, when you’re not there, Jimin bites the pillow and lets his own hands wander. Feels guilty and not guilty at all when you end up in bed with him the next morning, and he licks at the hickeys on your neck left there by Namjoon’s mouth, tasting his alpha on your skin and on your lips.

- Jimin goes to bed one evening alone, and lies listless for a moment before he realizes how much he wants to fall asleep next to you too- Namjoon too. How many times had Namjoon invited Jimin to stay in your room? How many times had he woken up to you by now? He knows the other room isn’t off limits and right now. His body shivers with need, for touches and touches, any that you’d give him. He tells himself he’s just looking for a goodnight kiss as he gets up and walks to your door, the house quiet so late in the evening.

- It shouldn’t feel so tremulous when Jimin walks to your room, to see the warm yellow light leaking through the door. Already cracked and open a few inches letting the noise of you and Namjoon spill out. The giggles he can hear, your voice, sounding the way you do when you smile. And then, a bitten-off moan.

- Jimin can’t stop himself from looking through the crack in the door- even though he knows it’s a private moment, that he really shouldn’t. You’re sitting in-between Namjoon’s legs on the edge of the bed. Jimin’s alphas mouth is firmly attached to your neck, licking and biting and sucking in a way that has Jimin riveted.

- But what really grabs his better judgment by the balls is the way that he can see the silhouette of your body through the large white shirt of Namjoon’s. The shirt so thin and well worn that jimin can see the shadow of your nipples and the hard outline that Namjoon’s hands smooth over, teasing them to a stiff peak. it has Jimin’s mouth-watering. Namjoon’s deep voice crooning as his hands pull at the hem over your baby bump, “let me see you, darling.”

- You’d complained to Jimin the other day that this far into your pregnancy none of your clothes were fitting comfortably anymore, and he can see the supple swell of your stomach and the generous curves of your body. Jimin can’t help but drink in, and stare at hungrily, swallowing thickly. A low whine of want building in his throat.

- He knows it’s wrong to be jealous, but he can’t help it. The feeling growing in his gut as he watches Namjoon pull you back to bed despite your protests. Namjoon looks deliciously good too; miles of his golden skin on display, his rippling thigh muscles exposed. Hair sleep or sex ruffled (Jimin can’t tell the difference)

- “Love I have to pee” you whine, Namjoon’s arms still ensnare your waist and he answers only with a playful growl as he hides his head in your shoulder. His hands roaming those curves like Jimin dreams of doing, Namjoon’s tail thudding against the plush comforter.

- You sigh, your head tilted up, one of your arms back behind you to tug at Namjoon’s hair, swollen pink lips parting in a sigh. He shouldn’t be watching this- this isn’t meant for him to see, this is intimate. He backs up and immediately hits a warm wide chest. “Yoongi!” Jimin squeaks, conscious enough to be quiet, his cheeks flaming as he’s caught.

- The snake hybrid raises an eyebrow in question. Yoongi looks ruffled, his hair messy from sleep. And it seems Jimin isn’t the only one who had plans on sneaking into your room so late at night. Yoongi’s cheeks are pink in the half-light.

- Yoongi leans in, nose so close to Jimin’s throat- where his scent is the strongest and Jimin almost flinches when he realizes how strung out and aroused he smells. Yoongi’s rippling growl makes Jimin’s legs week.

- You’ve suddenly fallen silent in the other room; exchanging soft words that Jimin can’t hear. “I was just going to…” Jimin searches for a reason, to remember why he was here in the first place. His cheeks absolutely flaming, but before he can find a good reason to why he’s listening in and being quite the voyeur Namjoon speaks up from inside your bedroom.

- “Jimin, Yoongi” not a question, but a command. Yoongi reaches around Jimin to push the door fully open so that both of you can see the two of them. “You can come in,” you say.

- Jimin has never been redder than he has been right now. Seeing you and Namjoon in your bed, obviously, about to- Jimin gulps audibly. “You don’t have to watch from the hallway” Namjoon teases. “You can watch from in here” Jimin is actually going to pass out, and you sense this, smacking Namjoon lightly on the arm. “Don’t tease him Joonie.”

- “Is it really okay if I-“ Jimin feels tongue-tied, his mind hazy with the smell of both of you, the pheromones that his sensitive nose can pick up on the smell of your slick, and Jimin’s mouth is suddenly so so wet. “I don’t want-“ Jimin breaks off; trying to keep his gaze averted, but can’t resist peeking. “I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable.”

- Jimin sees out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon’s hands rubbing up and down your waist, and he wants to look, wants to see- but can’t. Keeps his eyes averted. “You don’t Jiminie- I” you break off when Namjoon’s hand travels further south. Your other puppy has absolutely no problem trying to distract you. Jimin can’t see exactly what Namjoon’s hands are doing but your chest jumps. And he realizes he’s staring again.

-“If you’re going to look- you might as well help me take care of her too” Jimin has never heard Namjoon’s voice sound so guttural, and a look at Yoongi reveals his pink cheeks too. “unless you just want to watch like Yoongi does, that's fine too”

- Jimin sends yoongi an accusatory glance, and the snake hybrid just shrugs at him. leveling him with a dedicatory look. well, Minnie- which are you going to choose?

- “I want- I want” jimin cant get the words out. He knows he doesn't want to leave. but is it really okay if he- is he really allowed to touch you? to make you smell like him the way that Namjoon does? Claiming you in that way. “jiminie- you can- I want you too-” your words are so quiet, face so warm. And it makes Jimin whine- looking to Namjoon for guidance. Imploring him to make the choice- to take the hint because Jimin just needs a little push. And from the looks of it so do you.

- “You’re both obviously too shy to get it done- so let me take the reigns okay?” Namjoon counters to the silence. Yoongi is still standing behind Jimin, a step closer than should be necessary, and you give them both a shy, wide-eyed look. Like you’re checking to see that this wants it too. Jimin nods, short, jerky, unable to tear his eyes away from your face to see Namjoon’s expression until the elder shifts.

- Yoongi crosses to the other side of the room where a green velvet chair sits, stretching out and making himself comfortable. Whereas Jimin and Namjoon are always a little too soft looking to be threatening. Yoongi eyes the three of you like he’s some sort of predator. Tongue flicking out to lick at his lip. Like he can taste what Jimin can smell- the four of you- the smells of your arousals mixing together. Something satisfying and musky and undeniably pack that makes Yoongi's every instinct sing.

- Jimin has always appreciated Namjoon’s body, the strength there. In many ways he’s the stereotypical alpha; the strength in his arms and in his chest, his collarbones strong and chiseled, but he’s anything but cocky. There is someone so genuine about how unconcerned Namjoon is with his own body, and jimin can’t help but find his confidence attractive.

- Namjoon lounges back against his hands, And the way he watches Jimin watch both of you lets Jimin know that it’s okay to look his fill. Yoongi too, the low rippling growl he lets out fills the room, makes you feel hot all over as his eyes roam you, Namjoon, and Jimin- the pretty picture you both paint.

- You sit between Namjoon’s legs, his hands on either side of your inner thigh parting your legs gently to show your wetness to Jimin. You make an aborted noise as you realize what he’s doing. All of you swollen and bear for him and nothing to cover you but Namjoon’s shirt and that just barely hiding the tone of your skin behind the creamy white fabric. You’re not wearing any underwear.

- Your pink core trembles a little, your hand gripping Namjoon’s forearm as he grins, drunk on the feel of you in his hands as he squeezed your thighs. Namjoon goes a step further Reaching down to glide a thumb across your wetness. Making you jerk in his hold as he hits the little sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your cunt, glistening wet and ready.

- “Can you believe it?” he says, his voice a blown-out growl. “So full and still ready for us?” beside Jimin, Yoongi’s pupils are blown, his body jerking as he shifts in his chair, hips on the edge.

- You’re wet and dripping. Your face is hot as you look at him, standing there in the middle of the room, fully clothed while you and Namjoon are intimately bare. Jimin can’t tear his eyes away from you. You smell so ripe and for the taking.

- “You can come closer- you can touch Minnie, it’s okay,” Namjoon says it that way, but his eyes are on Yoongi, gliding down his hips to the bulge in his pants. Namjoon knows he won’t come closer- even if he really wants yoongi too. And Jimin sees that pain him- just for a moment before he puts his chin out in his direction. It’s okay- anything that Yoongi wants, whatever level he feels he can partake in this- it’s okay. Jimin wonders how Yoongi can handle it and hold himself back; how he can handle the dizzying rush of pheromones and not come closer.

- Yoongi settles, his eyes hazy and his legs spread to make room for his hands that touch with purpose. Jimin doesn’t know where to look- at him, his hands slowly smoothing up and over the bulge in his pants or at you. The way you drink in every line of Yoongi, stretched out in his tight pants. A simple hand at your throat, Namjoon rolling his fingers down from your chin to your collarbones. “Let's put on a show for him yeah? Is that what you want Yoongi?”

- Yoongi’s tongue is pink as it swipes across his lips, he nods. In a moment, Jimin feels a little unsure, but that instantly dissipates as Namjoon gestures for him to come forward.

- He’s never been touched or touched another in this way- not with love anyway. All of the small touches you’ve given him, hands on your shoulders the small of your back, felt nothing like this. His fingers reaching out, rounding on the edge of your knee experimentally. Waiting to see your reaction to make sure what he’s doing is okay. Namjoon’s tail starts up it’s wagging behind you. his hands shake with too warm palm smoothing over skin he’s never seen let alone been allowed to touch. He looks at you and feels positively ravenous, licking his lips.

- Namjoon trails a kiss down your neck and Jimin can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to sink into the skin there too. In a moment- he’s not sure if he’d rather be you being bitten or be Namjoon biting you on the neck. You probably don’t get the significance of it quite yet but Jimin- Jimin wants to be on the receiving end of that mark. To bear the mark of an alpha means to be under their protection.

- He wants all of it- all of your sweet looking soft and supple swells. Your body that’s accommodated the life within you so well and deserves a little appreciation. Anything, everything, Jimin and Namjoon will gladly provide. And Yoongi will be content to look. Not ready quite yet to be apart of this the way Jimin is. But it makes you feel hot all over, his piercing eyes on every movement. Barely even blinking.

- Jimin doesn’t know how to be the same sultry tempter that Namjoon is- but at the very least he can follow his lead. Jimin hasn’t had many sultry kisses- the ones you’d shared in your bedroom done with less intent, but he hopes that these can be just as satisfying. He leans in close to you, a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to steady himself as he leans down.

- The kiss is a gentle thing that Jimin knows won’t hurt. You’d never hurt him- because you’re like him. His softness and sweetness is just like yours. Both shy and honest- the genuine passion that overflows too easy. Like a hurricane filling a teacup.

- You know to go slow, and Jimin lets Namjoon- his alpha, (a whole rush goes down his spine at the idea of it) take the reigns. Feeling a comforting protective feeling wash over him as your lips play together. You suck on one of his lower lips, plush and soft between yours, and hasten a soft bite that has Jimin gasping, jerking forward to rest both hands of his on your upper thighs. Namjoon lets them go- lets you settle in between both of them.

- He pulls away with a start. “I want both of you- please just- please- let me” you’re already pulling at the edge of his shirt. You’d seen his softness here and there too, but now, having him underneath the palm of your hands feels even better. Jimin has gained weight since he got to the farm yes- but he’s also put on more muscle than anything else, enough protein and hard work has left him soft but with clean edges, lines on his hips that point invitingly south. Dimples that you sink your fingers into.

- You hover there, skimming your hands along them, Namjoon reaching out from behind you to press a flat hand to Jimin’s pelvis, his flannel pajama pants still on, but still, even you can feel the way his abdominal muscles clench at the slightest touch. Even as you tug, give a pleading little whine, Jimin is so so weak to all of you. Jimin takes off his pants so quickly that he almost trips and falls into you, and a quiet chuckles and quick look says that Namjoon is equally as endeared by Jimin’s eagerness as you are. Even Yoongi is grinning.

- Yoongi makes a noise too and all of you look over, he’s got his pants pulled down his hips too, hands slowly teasing at the head of his cock hidden by his boxers. A wet spot there that makes jimin lick his lips. One-day Jimin will earn Yoongi’s trust enough to get his mouth on that length. Yoongi juts his chin out- an invitation to continue.

- Jimin wonders how often you’ve done this before with Yoongi- if this is only the second or third time. The question hovers on the tip of his tongue, struck out of his mind when you put your hands on him and touch him properly. Behind you Namjoon shifts, finally showing that he’s bare too- not even wearing underwear.

- A first look says yes, Namjoon is a little longer than Jimin is. But he’s far thicker than Namjoon and that small blessing in itself has a whole new kind of heat thinning in his gut. Especially when Namjoon stands and measures, going hip to hip with Jimin so that the head of his cock touches Jimin’s stomach. The older hybrid reaching out to skim his large hand over his head. Jimin’s already wet and sensitive gasping at how Namjoon’s hands- so big, fail to cover all of him.

- “I really shouldn’t call you puppy” he hastens with a chuckle, tugging at jimin’s erection, and Jimin can’t help but whine and pant. Namjoon’s mouth skims down and over Jimin’s shoulder, the contact lighting sparks under his skin with how sensitive he feels, and yet- it's still not where he wants it, Jimin feels vacant his mouth unclaimed until you stand too.

- This time you tug Jimin down with a hand in his hair, running your fingers over his ears the same moment that Namjoon bites down on his neck and pulls, teasing over the head of his cock. and it’s too much- too much so soon- making Jimin go soft and pliant as Namjoon sucks jimin’s skin between his teeth. Jimin doesn't know why the edge of a high rises so quickly only that it does and leaves his knees weak- almost giving out at the weight of all the pleasure.

- To Jimin’s credit- he only cums a little- maybe not a full orgasm from just that. The shame and humiliation of Cumming so early makes him want to hide his face in you and hide he does. Especially when Namjoon lifts his hand up to look at Jimin’s release, chuckles, and licks it.

- He collapses into your front, breathing heavily already. The waves of your sweet arousal washing over him, his nose feels so sensitive he wants to bury it in your heat and breathe in deep, his whole body feels sensitive as Namjoon- now behind Jimin, smoothed his hands up and down his sides, somehow knowing he was a little too overwhelmed by so much so quick.

- He hopes that’s not weird- he has a feeling he’s just a little too touch starved not to get wound up. He doesn’t want this to be over that fast, wants to savor every moment. “I’m sorry,” he squeaks out, but you and Namjoon are quick to soothe him.

- “It’s nothing to be ashamed about Minnie baby, you’re just a little sensitive” Jimin loves that- that nickname falling from your mouth as your touches get slower. more sensual and loving so they don’t overwhelm him so fast. He can tell you and Namjoon and maybe Yoongi are sharing a glance, communicating silently about Jimin- but it doesn’t make him feel annoyed. It just makes him feel cared for.

- Jimin knows he could go again, isn’t finished, he’s still rock hard, cock bobbing and twitching against his stomach. He just needs a moment to calm down.

- You guide him to sit back up against the bed and he lies, half in your lap and half to the side. Shifting closer to you with his nose pressed to your neck, licking and sucking to his heart's content. Leaving his bruises right next to Namjoon’s.

- You’re used to the way that Namjoon gets after an orgasm, his more animal instincts closer to the surface. Sometimes he even fails to speak with words, instead favoring whines and growls. It doesn't surprise you at all that Jimin would fall into a similar headspace the second he got overwhelmed. He laps at your skin, tail thumping as his ears twitch. His nose drawing small circles. The instincts in him pulling him lower as Namjoon rubs up and down his back soothingly.

- Jimin doesn’t realize where he’s ended up until your soft laugh and Namjoon’s chuckle join in tandem. “I take it back- you’re a puppy.” Jimin goes absolutely bright red as he opens his eyes and realizes that he’s been nosing at your breasts, the origin for your milky sweet scent.

- “Can I- have a taste?” he asks. And you turn hot for a whole different reason. you push him off a little, and Jimin wants to whine before he realizes that you’re finally taking off your shirt. and /oh/ you’re so soft looking. Your chest ample and swollen- you look absolutely perfect.

- “Sure but- uhm- I’m- just don’t be surprised if I-” you’re stuttering and shy and Namjoon just leans over, pulling lightly at your sensitive nipples so that Jimin can see for himself. He really is good at making sure you guys don’t get too shy to continue, he’s a good alpha.

- At the sight of a small bead of milk tugged forward by Namjoon’s hand Jimin growls, He tugs a little more and a single droplet travels down your sternum. You exhale as you feel the full heavy feeling that your breasts have taken on these past few weeks starts to ease a little.

- Jimin notices your discomfort the way you shift and doesn’t think- his instincts taking over before he leans forward and hastens a lick. taking the droplet from your skin into his mouth and licking up- so that he doesn't waste a drop. his plush lips melt around your nipple and he closes his eyes- savoring it. It only takes a small suck for your milk to really come in, and you shift instantly under Jimin's hands, throwing your head back with a sigh as the ache eases. Jimin growls and pulls you forward by a hand underneath your back, jostling you in his eagerness.

- You taste so sweet, the fatty liquid sliding down his throat as he suckles eagerly. Namjoon buries his fingers into your hair, pulling you up to kiss him but Jimin isn’t paying attention- can’t concentrate on anything other than the smooth taste of you sliding over his tongue as he sucks and sucks and sucks. the taste of you- the cream to your peaches and cream scent sliding like ambrosia over his tongue.

- Jimin may not be talkative- brought down to his lower basic instincts- but he does make noise. His tail wagging behind him Hitting Namjoon’s, a whine mixing with a growl. Eyes rolling back into his head- he can’t help it you just taste so fucking good.

- You can’t concentrate on Namjoon’s kiss either; your mouth open and a little sloppy, Namjoon levels you with a hot look. “What do you say lovely? Does she taste as good as she smells?” Jimin is so drunk on you that he barely even hears Namjoon. His teeth nip a little, you hissing a little.

- Namjoon tugs on Jimin’s hair and the other hybrid growls. It’s a Feral and angry sound- anything that would take him away from your sweet taste would have jimin angry. It’s so unexpected- that he would be so possessive- that Namjoon actually laughs.

- You do too, though it’s quickly interrupted by a moan when Jimin pauses his sucking to lave a lick against your nipple. Namjoon holds him too far away for him to properly suck. “Gentle puppy” Jimin’s hands grip underneath your breasts, possessively clinging to you. whining at Namjoon. begging his alpha to let him go back. Namjoon lets Jimin tug his own hair before he guides his head back to you.

- Namjoon keeps your eye contact until the second he lowers to suck too. Having both of them at the same time overwhelms you. Especially when you look past their heads and see Yoongi licking his lips too. Stroking his red cock slowly and carefully. The head is already red, and you can tell from the way he pulls off that he’d edging himself. Hips shaking every time he senses his touches. And you wonder if he wants to cum with you. His throat bobbing every time his tongue darts out.

- Having both their mouths on you makes you keen. And when Namjoon guides Jimin’s hand to your cunt you lose it- moaning, panting their names and gripping at their heads, pulling their hair. Jimin’s hands are sloppy as they grip and touch. Hungrily exploring your thighs. Namjoon’s a little more guided, paying special attention to your entrance. When he realizes Jimin’s gotten distracted feeling up your thighs and ass he guides Jimin so finger you, smooth fingertips rubbing at your walls in time with his sucks, while Namjoon rubs smooth circles against your clit.

- You time the rolls of your hips with Yoongi’s as he shallowly fucks his hand.

- You cum like that, both their hands on you, and Yoongi’s growl, Namjoon’s head snap up. “You can cum Yoongi” Namjoon commands, with a fucked out chuckle. Your milk caught in one of his dimples. Yoongi’s hands are tight around the knot at the base of his cock, cum dripping down around his wrist, his head thrown back. Lazily spread out, his limbs turned to jelly.

- To Yoongi- it doesn't feel awkward to have cum so soon. If anything the sheer intimacy of it all- knowing that he can be vulnerable and fucked out in front of both of you- makes him feel even hazier. And just because he’s cum- doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the sight of you three all tangled together.

- Jimin’s hardness pokes at your thigh as he straddles it. Rocking against you in time with his sucks. hands returning to their appreciation of your thighs once you’ve cum, head a little clearer. Namjoon is equally as hard and waiting. Namjoon groans as one of your hands finds his cock.

- You’re used to the way he likes it by now, concentrating your attention on his head. Your other less dominant hand still makes Jimin jerk. Fucking into the tight circle of your hand that can’t fit around the entirety of his cock but is more than enough to tease his head until he’s throbbing.

- Jimin gives one last bite as your milk peters off; no more left and your other breast rightfully as drained, pulling away and licking at his lips. He’s so high on the taste of you, the smell of you, all of you that he barely realizes he’s grinding against your thigh or into your hand. Namjoon stills your hand against him when he gets close. Your thighs shake as Namjoon guides both of you to sit back; pressing a kiss to your forehead, Jimin’s, and then your tummy.

- “Why don’t you watch and see how it’s done puppy” Jimin gets off, sitting on his knees to the side and resists the urge to touch. Namjoon gives him a look and you look up from where you lie against the bed, grinning at him. but he’s obedient, doesn't touch, and just watches to learn.

- “Would you cum again if I called you good b-” Jimin flushes, scrambling to get a hand over your mouth and stop you from finishing that sentence as his cock twitches and dribbles pre-cum onto the blanket. Face flaming as you laugh against his palm. “Yes- so please don’t I just want to-” Jimin whines. the humiliation making him hornier somehow. Yoongi’s rueful grin and Namjoon's expectant expression that says Jimin is just the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

- It’s somewhat of an honesty thing too- because you know Jimin- you know him so well enough to tease him and have it not be awkward but arousing- knowing just the right words to say to get him riled up. To prove to you that he can be good- can learn how to fuck you well without cumming (again) “why don’t you help me hold her Minnie.”

- Namjoon’s smirk is happy and a little fucked out as he pulls your hips to the edge of the bed by your ankles, your laughter turning into a giggle. Knowing how Namjoon loves to man handle you. And you’d be lying if his strength- the fact that he can still lift you without issue even this far into your pregnancy wasn’t a little bit of a turn on.

- Namjoon gently manhandles you into the position he wants, you stretched out against the sheets, your nipples all puffy and pink from the way Namjoon and jimin mercilessly handled you earlier. A bruise forming where Jimin was a little rough, half-circles from his mouth.

- Namjoon guides you to hold your hands above your head, guiding your wrists into Jimin’s to hold you there, his hands lacing with yours, bending down to kiss you. You gasp into Jimin’s mouth at the first push of Namjoon into your dripping cunt. The push and pull of his hips. It’s as erotic as it is sweet, Jimin presses his hips to the bed to relieve some of the aches but does not rut forward. And a look from Namjoon tells him to be careful- he’ll allow that- but the next time Jimin cums Namjoon wants it to be by his command.

- “You see Minnie- she’s not the biggest fan of a rough fuck- we’ve got to be gentle with her see, but as long as you make them deep and long she likes it” Namjoon shows Jimin and below Them, you moan. Lacing your fingers with Jimin's.

- There is a certain unspoken dominance between Namjoon and the other hybrids. You too- though that has less to do with scent and the instinctual pull that you feel to be good for him. Jimin can’t get a good handle on why exactly he wants to do everything the elder says only that the idea of Namjoon being upset with him right now sends a jolt of fear all the way to the end of his tail.

- When Namjoon cums it’s with a low groan, and you squirting weakly around his cock. Your thighs are shaking and Namjoon leans close to kiss you through you high, then leans up to kiss Jimin too in reward for being patient.

- You’re panting, body humming with pleasure as you feel namjoon’s knot press just outside your entrance, bulging so much that his rocking rubs against your clit. Namjoon is careful to fist his knot in his hand, meant to lock him and his partner in place to ensure a pregnancy would take place. If you were a hybrid you would be keening for his knot, probably crying for it. But as it is you’re a little glad he didn’t decide to stretch you out on it today.

- You’re sure that the next time you cum your eyes are going to roll back. And you might pass out. It’s happened before. The first night you and Namjoon ever let Yoongi watch you. Namjoon had so thoroughly put you through your paces that you’d collapsed, and come to with two very panicked hybrids standing over you.

- Especially because it would have taken several long minutes to go down and Jimin is hard and aching for you. Namjoon is a good and patient alpha; he’ll let Jimin knot you tonight. Namjoon gives his knot one final squeeze before he gestures for Jimin. He lets go of your hands unwillingly, joining Namjoon at the edge of the bed.

- Namjoon pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed, the movement so sudden that it makes you giggle. You’re a little fucked out, but it only makes your hybrids endeared. You close your eyes as Namjoon manhandles you into place, sighing out a “fuck” as he sees you below him. god- Namjoon loves you so much and you can feel it in every touch.

- He hitches your legs up and asks you to hold them, hands gripping underneath your knees. Keeping you bare for all of them. Jimin’s mouth waters when he sees your wet and messy cunt, a little bit of Namjoon’s cum dripping out of your entrance.

- Fuck just getting his mouth on Yoongi; Jimin wants to get his mouth on all of you. Huh- maybe he has some sort of oral fixation. Jimin is so caught up in imagining it he barely processes Namjoon stepping away, tugging jimin in close and positioning himself behind the other dog hybrid, Namjoon’s knot and wet cock presses up against Jimin’s ass as Namjoon uses his hands to guide jimin into your heat.

- Jimin is so thick. So big compared to your entrance, the stretch doesn't burn after Namjoon but you do feel full- so deliciously full that it makes you gasp and grip jimin's shoulder, letting your leg fall against his hip.

- You're so wet and warm; Jimin has to slow down immediately. whining loud in the quiet room. “Alpha- I can’t-” namjoon's hand forms a vice around the base of his cock, keeping him from cumming. “You can- and you will Jimin” Weather it’s your wetness or Namjoon’s cum that makes the slide inside of you so slick. He can only thrust forward so far before his stomach makes contact with your baby bump, and the slide, the simple push of your hips against his makes him feel tingly all over.

- “Fuck you feel so good,” Jimin pants out, and you smile, reaching forward to brush his hair out of his face and over his ears, sending a shock of pleasure all the way down to his tail. Maybe it’s because he’s been wound up so much, or because you’re still tightening with the last thrum of your orgasm that makes Jimin come so easily.

- He’s only been trusting inside of you for a few minutes before he feels his knot start to swell, pulsating against namjoons fingers and ready to spill inside. namjoon lets him go and Jimin can barely keep himself from getting rough with you. though he won’t- would never dream of hurting you. It feels nice to be filled by him, and you feel yourself brought to the edge again by his gentleness- he doesn’t have to thrust quickly for it to feel good- just being this close- as close as you two can get to each other is enough.

- It’s not Jimin’s first time having sex. But for all intents and purposes. You’re the only ones it matters for. He sends a panicked look in Namjoon’s direction, unsure if he’ll be able to hold off. His hands shaking where they sit, entwined with yours. Body crouched as close as he can to you. Through the entirety of it- Namjoon has been stroking up and down his back, and he grips his hips now- guiding him through each thrust to make them less sloppy. “Alpha- alpha please-“

- “You can cum Jimin, make sure you knot her.” At his alphas command Jimin cums with a shout. Namjoon pressed to his back and Yoongi hissing over his shoulder. Watching every thrust with baited breath. namjoon pushes jimin’s hips inside at just the right moment and you twitch as he knots you. feeling him swell inside you more than should be possible entrance pulsating in time with his twitches. jimin cumming into you with squirts and squirts of warmth as you milk his knot.

- You squirt weakly- and it drips down around his cock and makes it even wetter if that’s even possible, no doubt leaving a puddle against your bed. you hold jimin close and he wants to collapse against you but doesn't because of namjoon holding him around the middle, guiding you to safely sit to the side, giving your little baby bump a little loving rub. “Gotta keep the bun safe minnie” namjoon chides. “Sorry hyung just- so good” Jimin slurs. eyes still rolling back in his head as he just keeps Cumming.

- “Can I call you good boy now?” you tease, and jimin whines again predictably as both namjoon and yoongi nodd. Jimin’s knot does not stay inflated as long as namjoon’s does. starting to shrink after a few minutes once he stops cumming really. though the occasional spasm of your walls around him has him tensing again.

- When its gone down fully he makes to pull out but namjoon catches his hips again, and tells him to wait. A shiver goes down his spine as yoongi walks over to watch. your leg flopping to the side, open so that he can see, though you grumble and cover your flaming face. it might be a little embarrassing- but it’s also really fucking hot- the way they like to see how much they’ve wrecked you- claimed you in a way they only could.

- jimin doesn't understand until he sees namjoon and yoongi’s ravenous expressions, the way they lick their lips. it’s only then that namjoon carefully guides jimin to pull out.

- the rush of cum is immediate, forced out of your entrance by your lingering orgasam makeing you clench and force their cum out of you. there's so much of it, dripping down your thigh thick and viscous and so so messy.

- jimin is so overwhelmed, as his cock keeps dripping. he flops back onto the bed after a second, close enough to you to be wrapped in your arms, both of you huffing with labored breathes, Namjoon gripping hard around his waist and guiding him into the comfort of the bed and your arms. Hands splayed wide on Jimin’s trembling stomach. Pinching at Jimin’s knot for a moment. And the whole room spins.

- Jimin is so pretty when he arches his back to try and get away from the over stimulation, especially when your hand joints namjoons and you both squeeze- head thrown back in ecstasy, his plush lips parted with his pants. “Stop fuck- too much” your hands are off of him the second he says it. Jimin’s eyes are closed, as you lean in and kiss at his neck. “Sorry puppy” he hears the older alpha chime- Jimin whines, his whole body turned to jelly.

- You’re barely sighing and settling back into the sheets, head tilted to get a sloppy fucked out kiss from Namjoon. Yoongi lingers. And you look up at him expectantly. His cock is still hard and curving against his stomach.Somewhere between jimin and Namjoon in thickness and length but ribbed with veins that stick out like the ones on the back of his hands.

- You think he’s going to mount you too (your deepest darkest fantasy’s hope that he might. You have to admit that you like the idea of one of them going one after another, Cumming in you, making you feel full and well fucked. You’re certain that one day- if they still want this- if they want to keep doing this with you. You’ll have that, each of them knotting you and filling you up- breeding you and making sure they knock you up again. human hybrid pregnancies are so rare they’re practically non-existent, but you know if there where any that would manage it it would be these three.)

- jimin’s eyes nearly roll into the back of his skull when he smells yoongi closer, nostrils flaring, “gotta help us breed our omega yoongi” he slurs. clutching posessively at you. The words so unexpected but so right. Namjoon can’t take his eyes off Yoongi. While in his arms. jimin tries not to dose- thoroughly spent.

- It’s the kind of language that Namjoon’s used with you before- calling you their omega- though you’re human you know what it means. To be theirs, taken care of and knocked up and fucked out. You and Namjoon- for the amount you bicker like an old married couple. Also communicate a lot,

- Though talk of your fantasies has mostly been pillow talk. Both of you spoke of wanting this before it happened and of your feelings for the others too. Namjoon had squealed almost as much as you had when you’d told him of jimin’s confession.

- You’d done your best to learn all you could about hybrids. So it never struck you as strange when Namjoon had come to you and confessed that Yoongi would one day be apart of his pack. Namjoon’s alpha instincts choosing Yoongi- spreading protectively over the snake hybrid. Namjoon hadn’t had much control over who was accepted into his pack- much in the same way that you have never have control over who you fall in love with.

- And maybe it was through you- that Namjoon and Yoongi eventually found a way to connect beyond the touches. Because Yoongi looks at the utter mess of your entrance, splattered with jimin and Namjoon cum and growls. His hands barely brushing your skin as he guides you to spread your legs and bare yourself to him. You dont understand what obsession they have with looking at your cunt- but there has to be something.

- Namjoon ever insatiable even snakes his hand around to spread you out for Yoongi. Teasing at your outer lips before his thumb presses against your clit- making your legs tremble. His touches so slow and firm, enough to make you absolutely desperate for another orgasm.

- Yoongi won’t touch you, he won’t make you cum- you know that enough by now because as much as Yoongi loves the intimacy you have it’s still too much for him. But one of his fangs hangs out over his lip when Namjoon starts to finger you. Rubbing their cum into your clit. And like you could read his mind, Yoongi starts up his stroking above you.

- He never breaks eye contact with you. Beside you, Jimin shifts to watch. His sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. “I’m not going to stop until you’re squirting,”

- “Why do you always want to- ah- make me messy?” you tease Namjoon- bickering with him even now. “Who knows maybe dirt is just my kink.”

- Jimin snorts, “You hate gardening Namjoon-“ you laugh, but you’re also squirming in overstimulation, as Namjoon’s thumb teases and teases until you’re trembling, and you want to gasp say that you can’t possibly cum again- but a look over your shoulder tells you that Namjoon knows you can. Yoongi’s eyes lock with yours when you look back, and you see the sweat on his temple, Namjoon’s hand speeding up when his does.

- Cumming after a few minutes with a gush that makes your cheeks flame. Hips jerking up and off the bed as you squirt- pussy clenching so hard that it forces their cum out to drip. Timed with you again- the intimacy of it all- of Cumming together, Yoongi’s cum spurting all over your stomach before he directs it to your clit. Mixing with the other hybrids cum.

- You’re thoroughly spent, legs falling open with no shame to hide you from the painful friction that would surely arise if anything touched your clit right now. Reaching out for arms that gladly take you. Ready to have them close.

- Jimin sits up, brain finally a little clearer as the pheromones in the room start to dissipate, leaning forward to hasten a lick Over your entrance tasting all of you intermingled makes his tail wag. But you’re a little too sensitive even for that- and you pull Jimin away before he can give a second lick, and he curls up close to you in the next second, face buried in your shoulder.

- He’s just as fucked out at you are, wrung out and hung to dry by all of this intimacy and pleasure making his body feel satisfied and settled. Unwilling to move from this bed. speaking only through whines and grumbles. Practically non verbal- and brought low into his hybrid headspace. Jimin and Namjoon don’t mind the mess on you. To them- it just smells like pack and home.

- He’s dimly aware of Yoongi going to the bathroom to get a rag for you- because as much as you love the feeling of all of their cum filling you up you really don’t want to have to change your sheets and luckily for you- most of the mess of your lovemaking has been well contained On you skin and your well placed blanket that can easily be exchanged for a fresh one.

- Namjoon softly turns jimin over onto his stomach, Jimin’s red cock pressed uncomfortably to the bed as they wipe down the release on Jimin’s back too. (Had Namjoon cum there? rutting in-between Jimin’s ass cheeks as he’d been inside you? and had Jimin been too lost in the throws of his passion to realize?)

- “I love you Yoongi, thank you for letting us do this, thank you for being apart of this.” he hears you say, and it makes Jimin’s tail wag.

- He stays awake long enough to hear Namjoon switch the fan on and to feel Namjoon swallow both you and Jimin in his arms. He hears them quietly conversing. “Are you sure you don’t want to come closer?” Yoongi must indicate one way or another. Because Namjoon quietly settles.

- The bed shifts, and he gathers Yoongi must have curled up several inches to the left of him. jimin squirms- wishing he’d come closer. but then he feels the slow trail of Yoongi’s fingers just along his spine and smiles into your hair.

- He wants to reach out, to pull him closer- but Jimin won’t know that touch is so tenuous for him. He knows him not partaking tonight isn’t anything to do with not loving you three. Jimin will respect Yoongi’s boundaries for as long as it takes for Yoongi to not feel a bit of the aching hesitation he suffers through when it comes to loving his pack. His eyes closed, he feels fingers trail along the edge of his hairline, ears flicking and nose twitching, Jimin lets out a happy little puppy grumble.

- “Love you” he finds himself whispering against your hair, “love you all so much” his words are slurry and not all there. And he’s rewarded with Namjoon muttering it back, reaching out to run a hand gently along his cheeks. A large hand knots in his hair, not rubbing through and just gripping, and jimin knows its Yoongi hand.

- Yoongi stays awake that night until all of you are asleep, wishing that for once- he felt the pull of Namjoon’s alphaness the same way Jimin did. The younger certainly seemed hazy; all of the tension in his body giving way with Namjoon’s will exert itself over him. But he’s content to see them the way they are now, all soft and vulnerable. Namjoon and Yoongi bookending the both of you curled together in the middle. So peaceful. Yoongi hopes he can make the two of you feel as safe as Namjoon makes you feel.

- Yoongi reaches out to touch your face, thumb drifting a hair's breadth from your lips, he knows he could never hurt you- never even dream of it. His mistress- owner- this mission was doomed from the start. He was yours- for all intents and purposes of the words. Yoongi didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. Other than your bed at that moment.

- And when he closes his eyes He imagines all the ways that he would touch you if he could. How he would have touched you tonight if he’d just allowed himself too. Maybe in the future- maybe in a few days when he gets used to this togetherness he’ll get to be close to you in the way he so desperately wants. Tonight was so nice, and with you smelling like all three of them. Yoongi feels like he’s apart of this- in a way that he hasn’t felt before.

- it’s not only touches he wants- it’s the love you share too. All of the words he would whisper low in your ears where he able. He’d find out your favorite foods and cook them every day, find out everything you like- badger you even. So that he could learn your favorite things and hopefully earn the right of being one of your favorite things too.

- He imagines the three of you holding him close in the winter and giving him space in the spring when his skin gets all sheady and itchy. Maybe you’d even make him one of those oatmeal baths that you’d started to favor towards the end of your pregnancy to help ease the shedding process. he imagines Jimin prodding at his scales and counting them. Namjoon kissing the ones behind his ear.

- Yoongi thinks of the future you have with namjoon and jimin and thinks about you and your child. Yoongi imagines for a second even though the image hurts; what it would be like to see them. He feels his heart ache so viscerally it’s too much- he can’t think about that.

- He can't think about what he can’t have. In the next few days he’s going to do his best to love you three and protect you and then that will be that. that's all yoongi gets. Not a life with you or a family with you. And then he opens his eyes, swallowing. And thinks that even if he doesn’t get to see all of that- at least- at the very least, he can savor every moment like it might be the last.

- And it is the last moment, Five.

- Four. He leaves the room to get a glass of water. If he’d known, maybe he would have looked back when he crossed over the threshold of your bedroom door. The clock ticking down to zero in an instant like a timer left unwatched.

- Three. If he’d known, maybe he would have leaned over Jimin’s body to kiss your lips- just to kiss you once. Given Namjoon a kiss too. Touched Jimin's face to say ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the love you want, but they’ll give it to you in my absence,”

- Two. On his ways down the stairs, the house is quiet and so familiar. The only home he’s ever had, the only place he’s ever wanted to stay forever.

- One. He’s just on the landing, when he sees the car out-front, black with its lights off, but if he listens he can still hear it running, as quiet as a mountain lions purr. Then He hears a quiet knock at the door. And Yoongi pauses on the steps.

- The clock stops at zero.

- The cherry of her lit cigarette is the only thing that glimmers in the moonlight with any color. That and the red tip of her tongue as she rolls it over her teeth. Yoongi freezes in fear the second he sees his owner, standing with her arm against the doorframe.

- A wash of cigarette smoke tainting the scents of all of you on him. He sees her farce, her thinly veiled superiority, and the tenseness in her body. Three men behind her. it’s all a lie, she’s angry and she’s afraid and she’s a devil in human skin.

- “Times up Yoongi.” One moment- he just needs one more moment. Holds up her finger and for once, she listens. Taps her foot impatiently.

- The house is quiet, upstairs you sleep on, unaware of what happens below.

- The next morning you wake up to Jimin and Namjoon curled up close. Their soft breathes intermingling in the golden light of morning. Jimin nosing underneath your chin. You cuddle close for a moment letting the safety of sleep melt away, before you sigh and get up to get dressed. The heats broken over the night, and you wrap your fluffy robe around your shoulders just to feel a little cozy. You don’t know why you feel so restless, but it’s like your bones are cold.

- Things are too quiet, the hum of Yoongi’s air conditioners aren’t running, aren’t filling the top floor of your house with their white noise hum. And you realize something’s wrong the second you pause by his door. Usually, his air conditioners run through the night, and leave the space under his door and immediately outside in the hall cooler to the touch, but a look inside after a nock reveals his room is empty, his straw hat is missing from its hook too. You’d assumed he’d left after last night to sleep in his own room because yours was too warm.

- You spill out onto the first floor of your house looking for him, searching for him by the coffee maker or on the couch watching the morning news, but a small commotion, terse hush words interrupt your train of thought.

- The cat hybrids are crowded around something on the table. Breakfast barely even started. One of them turns when they see you in the doorway and if any of them notice something different about your scent- probably drenched with both all of your hybrids. None of them say anything. If you had to guess- you’d say that whatevers wrong is much more pressing than any hybrid faux pas.

- “We were going to wake you” one of them says, biting her lower lip, her torn ear twitching. “We didn’t think you’d want us to move it until you saw.”

- The crowd parts, and you pull up to the side of the prep table. a blanket is folded on the table- it’s Yoongi’s- the heated one. The one that he needs to sleep if he’s going to not wake up shaky and too cold in the middle of the night. His sun hat- the one he always wears sitting on top of it, a little note sitting there too tucked into the leather band.

- The simple note- two words that aren’t enough to soothe the sudden panic in your veins. “I’m sorry” written in his neat scrawl. The words he wants to say but can’t- had to erase and then scribble over so you can’t read them. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, I would if I could, and I want too so bad. it’s not your fault that i had to go.”

- But there are just those two. I’m sorry. Not enough and almost visceral in the way that they shock the air out of your lungs. You gasp- almost falling with the way it hits you. You wish it wasn’t true, but deep down you know what it means.

- Yoongi is gone.

Please Reblog and Comment! Likes are nice but they do little to support content creators!

Kofi

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nexus-nebulae · 2 years

Text

doctor: why do you think you have autism? You speak aloud so well

me:

me: *is considered the "weird one" in pretty much every social group i am in*

me: *knows way too many facts about plants that grow in funny ways and foodstuffs that are mistakenly labeled as vegetable when they're actually a fruit and hey did you know that watermelon is considered the state vegetable of the state of Oklahoma?*

me: *sits for hours arbitrarily sorting my button collection in more ways than a normal person would think possible*

me: *spent about ten minutes in the bathroom earlier literally just hopping in place and flapping my hands and going 'mm!' out loud because Brain Said So*

me: *accidentally talks over my friends constantly because i get carried away infodumping and then they can't shut me up (guys im so sorry)*

me: *has about ten articles of clothing that i wear on loop because no clothing stores sell clothes that aren't Texture Suck so i can never find good clothes*

me: *eats the same meal every single day because it's the only food in the house that isn't Illegal™ this month apparently*

me: *literally dropped out of school (and physically cannot get a job) because the bright fluorescent lighting giving me migraines constantly mixed with the constant loud sounds of like a hundred students overstimming me every day mixed with the stress of being pressured to complete work i didn't understand because classrooms are built specifically for only neurotypicals mixed with the social stress of never really being able to connect with other students and being alienated for being 'weird' even though they never tell me what i did wrong mixed with the physical pain of masking all the fucking time drove me to the point of literal daily meltdowns and panic attacks and one day i decided i just wasn't going to fucking deal with this shit anymore and refused to so much as leave my room and i got in trouble for truancy before they decided to let me go as long as i went to counseling*

me: oh i dunno. just a hunch

#echos #vent #ok this got. this got more venty than i meant it to #but it's true. so.#literally probably the only reason they refuse to diagnose me is because I'm able to speak out loud to them without assistance #it's just that I've been around doctors my ENTIRE life #I'm constantly sick and I've been this way my whole life #so i got used to it #it became normal #and i figured out how that social environment works SO much quicker than say chatting with my peers #especially with my mother being completely deaf. most of the time i would do the talking #(partially because some doctors just absolutely refused to be accessible and let my mother enter the conversation)#(which. really isn't a good sign for a medical professional)#but. I would talk for myself #and i got used to it #and before appointments i always write down lists of what i need to say and i rehearse to make sure i cover all the bases #and. i just. i have all this evidence to back me up #but they turn me away at the door because i 'speak well'#fuckin hell. anyway. I'm going to sleep soon. goodnight #oh i should also add #tw ableism #cause. yeah.

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ingek73 · 3 years

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Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...

Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.

Mic Wright

May 6

On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.

Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.

The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:

MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’

MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims

SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author

DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her

NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’

'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert

CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones

You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.

Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome

DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES

@BreeNewsome

Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.

May 5th 2021

1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”

Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:

… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.

Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.

Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.

When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.

Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:

If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.

It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.

At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:

But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.

The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach

Maria Roach

@MariaLRoach

Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America

May 5th 2021

122 Retweets1,619 Likes”

Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.

Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.

There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:

The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…

… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.

It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:

Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'

If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?

15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda

Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.

Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…

It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.

… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.

Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.

Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO

talkRADIO

@talkRADIO

Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.

Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?

@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image

May 5th 2021

36 Retweets221 Likes”

Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:

It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?

Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”

I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba

Nadim Baba

@NadimJBaba

Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......

Media Guardian @mediaguardian

Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz

May 5th 2021

1 Like”

There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.

There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.

#meghan markle #prince harry #duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #piers morgan #brokenbottleboy #toxic tabloids #uk press

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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Anything But Mine - Penelope’s Meltdowns

A/N Penelope is quite a complex character and there’s a lot that even Florence and Daniel had to discover about her as she grew up; her sudden meltdowns being one of them.

Saturday, December 2, 2023

The mall was busy with Christmas shoppers, bustling through the stores and wide hallways decked out in tinsel and garlands and the speakers playing light Christmas music. It was a Saturday afternoon so was it was busier than normal, not to mention the additional chaos of the Christmas season. Regardless of the crowds, the mall was always so nicely decorated for the holidays, down to the four-storey tall tree that was absolutely covered in twinkling lights. The girls always loved the Christmas lights and Florence and Clementine stood at the side of the railing overlooking the huge tree.

Usually, Penelope would be right up there with them but she had been in a bit of a mood all day, refusing to wear her coat and then crying the whole time to the mall after they forced her in it. So she stood holding Daniel’s hand with tear-stained cheeks as he held her coat and they watched Florence and Clementine admire the decorations a few steps away.

They had spent a good bit of the afternoon in the mall, picking up their last few gifts for the family in good time before the mad rush would start closer to the holidays. Penelope refused to be more than an arm length away from Daniel the whole time, making him carry her until his arms were nearly ready to give out and when he set her down she wouldn’t leave him alone until he picked her back up again. Her crying was constant and she was clingy and it was putting sort of a damper on their little trip.

They had planned to go home for dinner when they finished shopping since they had just bought groceries not long before but as they made their way to the exit, Daniel suggested finding a restaurant as a treat. Clementine gladly agreed, jumping off the top of the escalator with a thud from her pink winter boots, her hand still held tightly by Florence as they made it to the foyer of the mall nearest the main downtown intersection. Daniel set Penelope back on her feet with a tired sigh as they reached the top of the escalator and she whimpered right away and reached back up for him.

“I’ve been carrying you all day, bug. You’re gonna have to walk for a bit.” he said, taking her hand without another word.

“So we’ll go to a restaurant instead then.” Florence confirmed, stopping by the wall out of the way of the crowds to slip Clementine’s coat back on her and zipped it up.

“I wanna go home.” Penelope pouted softly.

“We’re going out for a treat instead.” Daniel said with a small smile, crouching down in front of her to put her coat on.

“No.” Penelope turned away from him at the sight of her winter jacket and leaned into the wall.

“Come on, bug. It won’t be on for long.” Daniel grabbed her arm gently and turned her to face him again, trying to wiggle her arm in the sleeve.

“No!” Penelope cried, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Go home now!”

“Even if we go home you need to wear your coat.” Florence said.

“I don’t wanna go home yet!” Clementine protested, looking between her parents, her voice loud over the music playing through the mall speakers.

“I know.” Florence assured her softly.

Daniel reached for Penelope again, finally managing to wiggle her into her coat despite her blubbery sobs and small cries in protest. He zipped it up and buttoned it up so she was basically locked in there and then he stood again to turn to his wife with a tired sigh.

“Can you manage a dinner out?” Florence asked him quietly.

“Yeah. Might trade kids with you though.” Daniel whispered.

“That’s fine.” Florence nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

To anyone else, the situation was generally calm. To Penelope, it felt like the end of the world. The sudden change in plans of going out to eat instead of home was one thing but then there was also the Christmas music that had been playing loudly all day – a lot of the songs repeating enough to drive anyone mad really – right with the noise of the crowds and the traffic now that was honking loudly from just outside the glass doors a few metres away. The lights from the city square were flashing brightly and all the noises were overlapping from inside and outside and the contrast between the loud talking of the crowd and her parents’ soft whispers made her skin crawl and her coat itched her neck like crazy and Penelope just…lost it.

She threw herself on the dirty floor of the mall with a loud scream, making a few passersby look over as well as her parents and sister as she flopped backwards onto the floor and clawed at her coat as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Oh my God.” Daniel crouched in front of her, grabbing her arm to get her up. “Penelope, stop it. We don’t act like this when we’re upset.”

That only made her cry louder, flailing on the floor as she tried to kick him away, clawing at her coat until a few of the buttons popped open.

“You are not taking your coat off.” Daniel said sternly, trying to ignore the stares of strangers as they passed and he tried to button them back up.

The three-year-old only screamed, hot tears pouring down her cheeks through wracking sobs, tugging at her coat until it looked like she was going to claw right through the fabric.

“Penelope. Stop it.” Daniel grabbed her arm to try and pull her to her feet but she flailed harder, shoving his hands away and kicking at his chest. “Penelope Magnolia! No kicking. Stand up like a big girl.”

She only cried louder, her pouted lips shining in spit with how dramatic her meltdown was as her screams echoed through the mall. Daniel was trying to stand her up but she kept making herself go limp in his arms to flop back on the floor.

“Just take it off her. It’s not worth it right now.” Florence whispered shakily to her husband as Clementine hid behind her leg.

Daniel sighed in frustration at his daughter throwing a fit in the middle of the mall, carefully reaching to start to unbutton her coat and unzip it, offering her a shaky, “Okay, okay, it’s coming off.”

Penelope visibly took a deep shaky inhale once the coat was off as if having it on was physically restricting but she still screamed, rolling over onto her stomach and curled up in a ball with her hands over her ears. Every time Daniel went to touch her she screamed louder and he looked up at his wife helplessly.

“What the hell do I do?” he breathed.

Florence directed Clementine to sit a bit of a ways away with their bags, still within arms reach but giving them and their emotional youngest some space. Florence crouched down with him on the floor, setting a hand on Penelope’s back,

“Penny, baby, it’s Mommy.” she spoke softly. “What’s wrong?”

Penelope just kept crying, hands clamped over her ears and she shrieked against the tile floors. Daniel sat back a moment and ran his hands over his face with a stressed sigh, glancing around at the onlookers that passed by staring like they were a storefront window or street performers.

“Oh my God, Dani, what do we do?” Florence breathed.

“I-I don’t know.” Daniel stammered, feeling completely hopeless as their three-year-old was having a full meltdown, feeling near tears himself.

“Should we just take her home like this?”

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed, standing up so he could bend down to pick up the three-year-old who screamed louder in his arms, earning more stares from strangers in the mall. He tucked her coat around her shoulders despite her wiggling to try and get it away from her as Florence took Clementine by the hand and gathered their bags.

Penelope screamed the whole way into the parking garage, wiggling enough that it was almost a struggle for Daniel to hold her, her hands digging her nails into his shoulder only making it more difficult for him. Florence unlocked the car and opened the back door for him and he got Penelope in her car seat, the toddler shrieking at the top of her lungs as he put her down and started to buckle her up.

Clementine was gaping over at her sister as Florence buckled her into her own car seat on the other side, confused as to what the heck was going on. It wasn’t unusual for Penelope to cry or scream when she was upset but this seemingly sudden outburst…this meltdown was completely out of left field. She cried and screamed and tried to get out of her seatbelt and smacked her hand against the window almost the whole way home, the rest of their small family sitting in tense silence. She tired herself out by the time they got to their building, wailing herself into a sleep stemmed from exhaustion.

Daniel carried her upstairs, Florence and Clementine following quietly after with their bags, taking the elevator silently together. Penelope was completely clocked out on Daniel’s shoulder, red cheeks stained in tears squished against his shoulder and her arms hanging limply around his neck. No one spoke as he carried her into the apartment and right to her room, carefully and silently undressing her and putting her into her pyjamas. It was a miracle she didn’t wake up. He stayed in her room a moment longer after he tucked her into bed, sitting at the side of her bed and watched her sleep, biting anxiously on his fingernail. Something wasn’t right with his little girl and it nearly broke his heart to think of what could be going on in that sweet little head of hers.

Saturday, November 28, 2026

After a few years of doctors appointments and specialists and finally a diagnosis, Penelope’s meltdowns and seemingly constant discomfort had a name to it. Daniel and Florence went out of their way to buy every single possible book or article on autism in girls to figure out how to make life easier for their second daughter and especially for themselves too. So, by the time three years had passed and they found themselves in a similar situation during Christmas shopping, they had a much better understanding on how to handle it.

The coat was no longer an issue since Penelope was old enough to choose her own winter coat and what she felt comfortable in but it was again, the full day of a crowded mall and overlapping noises and sensory overload to the max. She was still young at only six so she had yet to understand what she was even feeling when she felt it but the second she ripped her hand out of Daniel’s, the parents knew what was coming.

They were in the middle of the crowded hallway, like right in the middle of the crowd, when Penelope dropped to the floor with a strained sob.

The crowd moved around her, staring at her as she broke into loud tears, nearly screaming as she curled up on the dirty floor. Florence and Daniel exchanged knowing glances, having a plan already in the back of their minds from late night practice over medical articles. So Florence passed Daniel the favourite stuffed puppy she had tucked in her purse before she took Clementine and Lucy down one of the side hallways and out of the crowd as Daniel crouched down beside Penelope.

“Hey, honey. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Daniel said softly, tucking the puppy in her arms. “Puppy’s right here too.”

Penelope only cried harder, curling into herself on the floor. Her screams nearly echoed through the mall, earning dozens of stares from strangers but Daniel kept his eyes on his daughter, even as she kicked at him.

“Okay, bug, Daddy’s gonna take you somewhere quiet, okay?” Daniel carefully scooped her up, making sure she wasn’t thrashing too hard because he didn’t want to scare her but he managed to carry her slowly out of the crowd and down the side aisle after Florence and the other two girls.

Penelope’s wails echoed more in the emptiness and he slid down to the floor against the wall with the six-year-old on his lap. He set a hand over her opposite ear and pulled her head against his chest to block out any noise for her and then stayed absolutely still. No loving back rubs or soft hums that he was so familiar with doing as those would just trigger her more. Just silence.

Florence sat with Clementine and Lucy only a couple feet away, watching him nervously as Penelope still cried in his arms. Daniel held her snugly, the slightly weighted stuffed puppy resting on her lap and the secure hold of his arms around her already started to calm her crying a little. When her wails turned into soft cries, Daniel and Florence exchanged wide eyed glances from where they sat apart, watching their daughter start to calm herself down.

Penelope soon quieted down into soft sniffles and she picked up her puppy to cuddle into her chest. Daniel carefully took his hand from over her ear, running his thumb softly over her cheek before tucking his arm around her.

“There you go.” Daniel whispered, kissing her head as he held her against his chest. “Daddy’s got you. You’re okay.”

Penelope, now embarrassed as she was coming down from her uncontrollable meltdown, shifted to wrap her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Daniel tucked her legs around his waist and held her close, looking over at Florence again with a small sigh.

“How about we go get some ice cream?” Florence suggested. Clementine and Lucy cheered with agreement and Penelope lifted her head up long enough to share a cheeky smile with Daniel.

“Yeah! Let’s go get you a big scoop of chocolate ice cream, okay?” he smiled at her, pressing a sweet kiss to her tear stained cheek.

#this ones been in drafts for MONTHS #so here lol #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines #daniel seavey fanfic

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pikapals16 · 3 years

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Just When It Gets Better, It Gets Worse (not finished)

tw: non-con, abuse, self-harm, sensory overload/panic attack, suicide attempt (these were planned tw's so not all of them are in this draft, but just to be safe)

A summer day spent at the mall with her visiting family should've been fun. It probably would've, excluding her past and her parents' denial that anything of any sort happened.

This isn't the case if you couldn't tell.

Kat's family was walking through the mall center when a group of people catches her eye. It's not like this group came together, they're all gathered up and definitely staring at something. Normally Kat would just walk on pass, but the sound of distress convinces them to sneak into the crowd.

After scooting to a place where she can observe, they see the subject of curiosity is a girl, about her age, and who's clearly in a sort of panic attack. Her hands are clamped and pulling at her hair, her body rocking back and forth.

The girl in pink watches as someone tries to approach her before someone else yelling back.

"Don't get close! She's probably one of those weirdos with autism." Kat pushes down their anger at the offhand comment. This girl doesn't deserve that, she's already in distress. Kat looks around for anyone the girl could've come with, as it is very unlikely that she'd have come alone

She sees two men, mid to late fourties, frantically looking around for something, which puts them as the most likely possibility. They consider going up to them to inform them of the situation, but she figures they already know, explaining the distressed look on the their faces (and assuming that they are who this girl arrived with).

Kat digs inside of her bag, looking for something that might help ground the panicking girl. Nothing that'd be remotely helpful, and she never brings their stress ball or fidget cube with their parents around. Something about disbelief in non-physical diseases, but she'd rather not risk it.

What they do take out though, is one of those toy rings with googly eyes. To be frank, Kat isn't sure why she has the old toy in her bag, but perhaps it will help the girl calm down? It's not like they have anything else to use.

Slowly, Kat slips closer to the girl, choosing to ignore any comments made, and sits in front of her, making sure to maintain distance to not make her feel uncomfortable.

Admittedly, they haven't been in a situation even remotely similar, but they've read some articles that give her an idea of what to do. The rest, she's just winging it.

Slipping the ring onto her finger, Kat raises their hand.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Goggles." Kat opens and closes her hand to imply that it's the one speaking. As it does, Kat can see the girl look up in curiosity. They guess that it seems to be working. "What's your name?"

Kat cringes a bit, this girl is probably a college student, she doesn't need to be dumbed down.

"C-Cathy." Cathy's eyes seem to light up at the character. Although her hands haven't moved from their position, they've stopped pulling, and her rocking looks like it's slowing down. Kat smiles at her, hoping she recognizes it.

She takes the ring off of her finger, and holds it out in their palm, offering it to her.

"You can have it." They say just loud enough for Cathy to hear. The latter looks at her in confusion. Why would the pretty girl be giving this to her of all people? She doesn't even know her. "It's okay, really."

At this point, Cathy's hand have since released from her head as she contemplates this. Hesitantly, she reaches out, causing Kat to scoot forward so she can hand it to her.

Cathy curiously spins and shakes the toy before putting the ring on her finger, like the pretty girl had. She opens and closes her hand, and her heart seems to flutter--at both the shaking sound of the googly eyes, and the little character that appears on her hand.

Kat smiles when they hear quiet coos coming from Cathy's mouth. What she did seemed to work, and she's calmed down.

Speaking of which, they should probably go and find their parents before she gets punished. Again. Yet, there's something that draws her towards this...stranger. She can rule out love, as she identifies as demisexual, but they're tempted to stay here in their little bubble.

Without any outside influence, just them-

"Oh my god, thank you." The two middle-aged men briskly walk over, one of them kneeling to communicate with Cathy through what looks to be sign language, and the other turning his attention to Kat.

Feelings and memories are shoved down into the archives of Kat's mind. She doesn't need or want to remember, and this guy shouldn’t have to worry over another panic attack.

”Thank you so much for calming her down. My husband and I really appreciate it. Not many people have enough patience to deal with our daughter’s autism.” The thought of these two men being married and raising a child calms some of Kat’s nerves, but just some.

”You’re welcome. Does she go to school here?” Kat curses at themself for asking that, but surprisingly the question isn’t taken a wrong way.

“No, we’re just visiting friends.” The other husband mentions as he helps Cathy up. “But thank you for being so kind. It’s rare that people listen.” Oh. Kat would know that firsthand. The countless times it’s happened.

“Yes, for sure.” Is what she settles with. They don’t need to know. “I should get going though. Wish you all the best!” With the goodbye, Kat runs off to find their family, praying they didn’t notice her absence.

But of course, they did, and while she’s being scolded at, Kat lets her thoughts take over for a bit. It’s not like it’d end any differently. It’s always the same punishment and Kat hates it each time.

They’ve felt nothing for the past couple of years but today just seemed to be different. An unlikely meeting, yet Cathy seemed to have an effect on them. And they only met for a couple of minutes if anything.

They don’t know why she’s putting so much thought into this.

What are the odds of them meeting again anyway?

Kat walks up to their meeting spot for lunch. She doesn’t have friends, acquaintances really, but they eat with them to trick themselves into thinking they are her friends. That she’s not completely alone. To distract herself from other things.

Right before they sit, Kat sees someone else, seated by themselves. People walk past without so much as a second glance, and Kat can’t take their eyes of them. They have brown curly hair, and they’re wearing a blue hoodie, which in itself is a bit odd for August.

Kat fiddles with their pink crop top. She sees herself in this mystery person. The emptiness and loneliness. Perhaps if they help the other, maybe they’ll feel less damaged as well.

”Do any of you recognize them?” Most of them don’t, but someone claims to have seen her in their creative writing class, and another claims that she has ASD. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

The girl in pink sees the strange looks from their lunch mates, but like she’s done before, it goes ignored.

"Hi." The girl on the bench looks up at the new voice. "Can I eat lunch with you?" The brunette scoots over and pats the empty space for her to sit. As Kat sits down, the other can't seem to take her eyes off her. She's pretty.....and someone she hasn't gotten the chance to thank yet.

Quickly the girl in blue digs through her bag, looking for a certain item that a certain someone had given her on a certain summer day at the mall. She shakes the rings back and forth to get the pretty girl's attention.

"Oh. Wait." Kat takes a better look at the girl she's sitting next to. No wonder she felt familiar. "We met over the summer. Cathy, right?" Cathy nods, smile growing on her face. "Well, I never told you my name, so I guess I'll do that now. Hi, I'm Kat. She/they pronouns."

"She/her." Cathy points to herself as she speaks, to make sure that Kat didn't think that Cathy didn't support their pronouns. "And thank you." Kat tilts their head in confusion. "For Mr. Goggles and helping me during my meltdown. You kinda saw me at my worst."

"Oh um, it's nothing." Lie. "Hold on, I thought you were just visiting?" ..Not a complete lie, she put some pieces together.

"My dad got a job here and my pop didn't want to be more than an hour away from me because....you know." Cathy realizes she's been stimming, but doesn't stop her actions, rather glancing at Kat to see her reaction. Nothing. Kat's eyes never leave Cathy's, well really her head since the latter isn't a fan of direct eye contact.

And that's another thing. Kat doesn't force eye contact like the other's experienced so many times before. Cathy's met very few people who are similar, and she holds them all close to her heart.

"Yeah."

The two talk for a little longer before departing for their separate classes. 'Two' honestly refers to Kat leading the conversation and Cathy commenting when prompted, but neither really care. They make sure to exchange numbers, but little did they know how much they would end up depending on each other.

She was minding her own business, honest. Cathy was never one to go into crowded places alone, for obvious reasons, but this is the easiest and closest place for her to meet with her new friend.

The ever so increasing volume of the area starts to bother the blue girl, so she takes out her headphones, blocking out most of the noise. She checks her watch again. Kat’s still not here?

Her initial thought is that Kat blew her off, but they’ve made it very clear that she’d never do something like that, not without explanation. To steer her thoughts away from becoming too overwhelming, Cathy plays with her fidget cube inside her pocket.

It’s never completely gone, but Cathy’s certainly learned how to handle her ASD better. Or at least, so that she can prevent any public outbreaks.

Unlike some people who just haven’t grown up from high school behavior yet. This particular guy thinks it's funny to copy her very subtle stimming. Just your typical jackass.

"Dude stop, she hasn't done anything to you." And that, would be the arrival of her friend. Kat turns to Cathy, tilting their head in the direction of her dorm, and the pair starts walking away. "He didn't make you uncomfortable, did he?"

Cathy shakes her head, and the two walk in silence. The silence isn't all that bad or foreign, but rather a comfort to the two. Of course, until the unsuspected thunder. Seriously, they don't know why they bother listening to the weather reports at this point.

In instinct, Cathy takes off her jacket and wraps it around Kat before pulling the both of them into the dorms.

"Cathy, you can stop running, we're inside now." Cathy doesn't stop. She doesn't want anyone else to see what she's done. No one's seen it. Not even her parents. She keeps her same pace until she's navigated the halls to Kat's dorm.

Only then does she let go.

And she immediately regrets it.

"Cathy...." Without the long sleeves as a cover, Cathy's scars are exposed. Even as she tries to hide it with her hands, they're still visible. She does nothing except curl in on herself, soft noises coming from her mouth. Kat does nothing except open the door, trying their best not to stare so hard.

Thank goodness her roommate is out of town, that would've made for some awkward conversation. Kat and Cathy walk in, the latter with a brisk pace, the former with a moment of hesitation.

"You did that yourself, didn't you?"

and that's where i gave up, basically, where i was going with this was that cathy opens up about the self-harm, then kat opens up about her trauma yea, they're friends! cathy is a year older than kat, so she graduates and although they still talk, it's not as often as kat would like. long story short, kat starts to feel lonely and depressed again, and they feel so disconnected from the world that she kills herself by overdose. little does she know that cathy and her friends were just on their way to surprise them, but see kat just in time for it to happen. cathy runs up, and begs kat to stay with her (the others are calling an ambulance) and kat's like "shit no, wait, you're here" then black out.

whether or not kat survives is up to interpretation! or....would've been hehe. idk, i'm kinda rambling now, but yea here's an abandoned oneshot

#six the musical #six fanfiction

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invisibleinorange · 3 years

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Bridgerton’s Adrift | 20/?

Chapters: 20/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Pretty Much Everyone (at points) Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin Summary: Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes".

Eloise didn’t know what it was like to fall in love.

Everything that she knew about the concept came from books or the relationships of people around her. She only had a vague recollection of her parents prior to her father’s death. Half the time, it felt more like other people’s memories than her own. She hated the fact that with every passing day she remembered her own father less and less. Aubrey Hall had been her first home and yet it always felt strange to be there. London always felt more like home but that was where she’d spent the majority of her formative years. She’d returned there out of love for her brother though.

Benedict hadn’t been himself since Colin returned. She dared not speculate his feelings at first but she had known he was running away from something. She’d always been particularly close to him. Even though he didn’t tend to have many secrets, she usually was the family member to figure them out. Just like he’d treated her cuts and bruises as a child, she wanted to fix whatever ailed him. That was why she followed him to Aubrey Hall.

She assumed that like all the past moments where they’d experienced an upset or difficulty they’d be able to fix it. It was a bit of an egotistical notion to think that she could be the one to help him find his way back to the family but it was truly what she’d thought.

She had assumed it would be easy. It wasn’t.

The brother that she found at Aubrey Hall looked like Benedict but there was something very hollow, sad about his presence. He was there but he might as well have not been. It had been weeks and despite having plenty of opportunity, he kept every conversation succinct and impersonal. He hadn’t once confided in her how he was feeling when she’d ask how he was. A simple ‘fine’ was his go-to reply and she knew he was far from it.

She had thought that if she brought up home, that might encourage him to speak about it. Every time she received a letter from Penelope or an entry from Whistledown, he’d read it aloud. He looked uncomfortable at the latest mentions of Colin and Penelope but the way he looked when she’d get a new article from Whistledown was much worst. Even on a good day, those things would cause him to make an excuse and lock himself away. She usually wouldn’t see him until days later.

The first time he’d skipped a meal, she’d thought he might be ill and she’d even gone as far as to take it to his room for him. The door was locked though and when she knocked he didn’t let her in to deliver it. When he finally did emerge the next day, he looked tired and older but he acted as if he hadn’t been a ghost.

She’d had never seen him like this and she was beginning to worry. It did cross her mind that Benedict might never return to the family. She didn’t want to meddle and make things worse but she didn’t like the state of things. She didn’t want to see her favorite brother unhappy but she also didn’t quite know what the solution was.

She had thought a solution could be found in non-familial companionship. He also didn’t seem to want to discuss that either. She’d casually suggested he reconnect with the Modiste or literally find anyone to be less gloomy. She’d mentally prepared herself for him to say no but she hadn’t been prepared for an absolute meltdown.

Benedict was always the quietest and the gentlest of her brothers. The bottled up emotions exploded at that suggestion though. He destroyed one of their mother’s favorite vases with fist. When he realized what he’d done, he cried and Eloise couldn’t remember ever seeing him cry. She knew it wasn’t about the vase or the fact he’d managed to hurt his hand. He didn’t say it but somehow she knew: his heart was broken.

If this was what love was like, Eloise was more certain than ever that she wanted nothing to do with it.

Even though Eloise didn’t tell him that she pitied him. Benedict knew it. He hadn’t asked her to come. He hadn’t wanted anyone to be there with him. He needed time to mourn in peace without anyone in the Ton judging him. Penelope Featherington might not have been dead but she might as well have been. She was going to marry Colin.

A few months ago, it wouldn’t have been a problem. He would have been thrilled at the choice and welcomed her into the family. He didn’t think he could stomach it now. He couldn’t bear to put on a smile and watch her marry Colin. He couldn’t handle seeing them at family dinners and seeing her smile or laugh at the things Colin could say. He couldn’t handle thinking of them sharing a marital bed or her stomach swelling with his nieces and nephews.

He wasn’t foolish enough to try and stop it nor did he want to. He wanted nothing more than for her to be happy and he knew that she would be. He knew Colin would actually treat her well.

It was selfish but he intended to never return to London. If he’d been less of a coward he would have bought a ticket to America or France and slipped beyond his mother’s grasp. Aubrey Hall was his stepping stone. He needed to go so far away that no one in the family could question why he didn’t return home for holidays or weddings.

Eloise wasn’t letting him.

The morning after he’d cried in front of her, he debated leaving at first dawn. She wasn’t a morning person so she wouldn’t hear him slip out and by the time she saw his letter informing her of his plans he’d be too far gone.

When he started to write the letter, he couldn’t bring himself to compose it so things continued on as they had been.

Mothers rarely interrupted the solitude of bachelor quarters but most men didn’t have Violet Bridgerton as their mother. Anthony had been sleeping off a hangover when he heard his mother’s huff as she pushed back the curtains to the room. The sunlight was appalling and he attempted to pull his pillow over his head.

“Where is your brother?” she demanded of him.

He grumbled in his sleep.

“At his place or… wherever Penelope is,” he said.

“That’s to be assumed. She told me she was visiting her family but Portia Featherington says she hasn’t seen her in weeks,” Violet said.

He lifted the pillow away, dark hair shaggy from bed head. His gaze moved to his mother and he realized she was worried and not actually mad. His brain caught up to the moment.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” he said after a moment.

“Colin was supposed to be with you at a match,” she said after a moment. “I can only imagine that there wasn’t one.”

Anthony debated covering for his little brother there but he knew better than to do that in this moment. Violet was a force and even if they were okay, he was going to have to go and find them.

“I was at the club until hours ago,” he confessed. “If you’ll be so kind to give me some privacy I’ll get dressed and go find them.”

Violet crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes.

“I gave birth to you. There’s nothing I haven’t seen,” she uttered before complying and headed toward the door. “You better find them before I do.”

Anthony checked every place he knew to search and came up empty handed as far as the city went. He’d thought he would find them easily but there was no sign of them anywhere. He begrudgingly called upon the Duke of Hastings for assistance.

Simon had far more resources in the city to operate from.

It was dusk before they learned from a servant who had heard from a footman that Colin had taken to sneaking away with Penelope for romantic time. They’d apparently last been seen leaving the city in a carriage.

His theories went salacious but it was Daphne who suggested that perhaps there was nothing salacious happening at all. It was possible that they were headed to Scotland to wed.

Anthony did the math in his head. It would take 4-5 days if they traveled 12 hours at a time. They had a good lead on him but if he traveled on horse instead of carriage, he might be able to catch up. He didn’t necessary intend to stop them. Perhaps if they wed, the family could finally have a little peace.

He took off immediately only stopping to rest the first time when he reached Aubrey Hall because he was famished and exhausted. He knew he could find Eloise and Benedict there and if there was anyone who’d know how to find them it would be that pair.

He found them in the drawing room.

Eloise was face first in a book and Benedict was drawing. He briefly caught sight of it and found it a bit… somber but now wasn’t the time to focus on that.

“What are you doing here?” Eloise asked.

“I own this home,” Anthony said after a moment. “Besides, I needed rest and reinforcements. Colin and Penelope have gone missing and my top suspicion is that they’re headed to Scotland.”

Benedict stiffened, struggling to keep his face impassable while Eloise looked alarmed at the news from London.

“You should just let them go,” Benedict said after a moment.

“I’m not planning to stop them,” he said with a sigh. “I’m mostly planning to drag them back home so our mother can murder them for not having the decency to inform someone of their intent as my wedding gift.”

“Coldstream Bridge,” Eloise said after a long moment. “Lady Whistledown mentioned it recently. She was talking about – well, it was an elopement for a young Earl who fell in love with someone and couldn’t bear to await a special dispensation.”

Benedict was on his feet, grabbing his coast before there could additional discussion of it. Anthony exchanged a glance with Eloise before shrugging.

“So much for rest,” he grumbled before following him.

Series this work belongs to:

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #⚜ writings — polin

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