#I was just discussing this with a friend and now I’m very curious

[femmeholograms]

please tell me in the tags what is the thing/fandom/community/hobby that prompted you to become an extremely online person

what is your internet origin story? on which parts of the web have you previously lived?

[mavigator]

i talked about it a little bit already but i have things to say about it. for context, i was born with amniotic band syndrome. the amniotic band wrapped around my left wrist in utero and stunted the growth of my hand. i was born with about half a palm, four nubs for fingers, and a twisted half of a thumb. i can open and close my thumb and pinkie joint like a claw.

yesterday at work i had a shift in the room with 5-10 year old kids. i had my left hand hidden in my sleeve (a bad habit of mine). a kid asked if he could see my hand, and even though internally i was debating running into traffic, i said “sure you can” and showed him my hands. he stared for a moment, looking disturbed, and then said “i don’t want to look at that anymore”. that hurt to hear, but i understand that kids are new to the world and he probably didn’t mean it out of malice. i put my hand away again, told him that it was okay, and that i was just born that way.

he then went on to talk about how he knows a kid with a similar hand to mine and called it “ugly”. i told him that wasn’t a very kind thing to say and that he wouldn’t feel good if someone said that to him, and he replied that no one would say that to him—because he has “normal hands”, and he’s glad he does because otherwise he’d be “ugly”. i tried to talk with him for a bit about how everybody is born differently, but he just started talking about a girl he knows with a “messed up face” and pulled on his face to make it look droopy. i went on some more about how it wasn’t very kind to talk about people that way, but the conversation moved on to something else.

i’ve told my supervisors about it and they’re going to have a talk with his mom. what i wanted to say is this: i’m genuinely not upset with the kid. kids are young and naturally curious, and he clearly simply hasn’t been taught about disabled people and kind ways to speak to/about others. which is why i am upset with his parent(s). i know he’s encountered visibly deformed/disabled people before (he said so himself!), yet his parent(s) clearly haven’t had any kind of discussion with him about proper language and behavior. i knew from birth that some people were just different than others, but my parents still made a point to assert to be kind to and accepting of others. i wonder if adults in his life are the type of people to hush him and usher him away when he points out someone in a wheelchair. that kind of thing doesn’t teach politeness. it tells children that disabled people are an Other than can’t be acknowledged or spoken about; which, to a child, means disability must be something bad.

i’m lucky enough that this was a relatively mild incident, and that i’m a grownup with thicker skin. i’m worried about the other kids he mentioned to me. has he been talking to them this way? when i was a kid, i had other kids scream, cry, and run away at the sight of my hand. or follow me around pointing at me and laughing at me. or tell me i couldn’t do something because i was ugly or incapable or whatever. one time a girl at an arcade climbed to the top of the skeeball machine, pointed at me, and screamed at me to put my hand away and wouldn’t stop crying until she couldn’t see me anymore. another time, a kid saw my hand, screamed at the top of her lungs, and ran into my friend’s arms, crying hysterically about how i was scaring her. that second incident made me cry so hard i threw up when i got home. i can kind of laugh it off now, but having people react to me that way as a child is something i’m still getting over. why do you think i have a habit of keeping my hand in my sleeve? it just irritates me to see children that have clearly not been taught basic manners and kindness—their parents Clearly missed something pretty important .

[writingsbychlo]

be yours | azriel

summary; you ask azriel how it's possible he's still single.

word count; 1850

notes; y'all seem to like the short and sweet ones, so, here's this! I don't know where this came from but it's cute as hell.

“I don’t get it, Az.” You sighed, turning your focus back to the three books balanced in your arms, muttering an initial under your breath as your gaze scanned along the shelf. He only smiled, brows raising a little, indulging you with curious silence as he waited for you to be ready to continue your sentence. 

“Don’t get what?”

“You. It. All of it.” At that, his smile was tainted, still there but he felt his brows pull together, a soft laugh leaving his lips. At the sound, you finally turned back to face him, a smile breaking out on your own face, book search temporarily forgotten. He loved it; getting your attention. He was selfish like that, didn’t care about admitting it, because when you looked at him, when you gave him your undivided, precious attention, all for him, he revelled in it. “I just don’t understand how…” 

Your words fizzled out, lips purring together, and for a moment, he thought you might be considering how best to phrase whatever was on your mind. Your focus moved back to the books, wandering a few feet away down the aisle, robes swishing delicately around you, only to place it back on the shelf, lingering for a second. That was when he caught it, the slight pink hue that had risen to your cheeks, the soft blush that trailed all the way up to your ears.

He stood, his curiosity for your words bordering on insanity now, straightening from where he’d been leaning on your piled-high cart of books. 

“Are you going to finish that sentence?”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Ever the stubborn, proud woman he’d met on that very first day, you hummed to punctuate your sentence, as though to end the discussion there. As if that would stop him. You took a few further steps away, and he followed, shadows darting out in excitement as he unleashed them, letting them swirl around you happily like puppies meeting a friend, and your soft gasp and pretty giggle had his heart racing. 

You were effectively distracted, enough so that when he snatched the books from your arms he met no resistance, a grin on his face at the shock on yours. “Finish the sentence.”

“No.” You reached for the books, and he shifted, reaching them high up over his head, and you scowled at him, hands on your hips, the blue stone sitting primly in the centre of your forehead glittering under the faelights, like it was teasing him the way he was teasing you. 

“The more you hold out, the worse I’m going to assume it is.”

Your indignant huff told him he’d won this battle already, even after a few more seconds of dragged-out silence played with his nerves. 

He wasn’t too sure how he’d gotten here. To the point of teasing a cheeky priestess in the aisles, bunking off his duties to follow you through the library as you replaced books on shelves and fetched new ones for the scholars. It had all seemed to snowball to this point right here, to his utter inability to stay away from you. 

It had all started a little over a year ago. He’d been on another trip to the library, head hung low with a rather large amount of shame as various priestesses glanced at him. None held obviously judging looks, none whispered when he was near, but his shadows had been coiled so tightly to his body that even the blue of his siphons barely shone through. They knew what he did, or, most of them did. The few who attended training had heard of his necklace incident; whether from Gwyn herself or Nesta and Emerie’s gossiping he wasn’t sure, but he knew they knew.

While Gwyn herself had forgiven him, after a lot of apologising and explaining and, frankly, a lot of deep self-evaluation, it still made it awkward to come down here. He wanted to be quick, in and out, with the books that he needed for his latest task. Clotho had called forward someone to help him find what he was looking for, and he waited for the silent tension to begin. The judgement, the priestess who would walk silently beside him, feminist anger rolling off of them in waves, shoving his books into his arms before leaving without even bidding him a goodbye. 

However, he hadn't expected a new face, someone who must only be here because of so much pain, and yet was still somehow smiling. Smiling at him. Offering her hand and shaking his with no regard for his scars, giving a name and taking his hastily scrawled list of books before leading him away. You had gotten lost a couple of times, still new, chatting all the way around, and he’d been stunned. He’d been intrigued. He’d been happy. 

So, he did exactly what he should have done from the beginning of his life. He refused to get attached, to let a simple spark grow into something more, something toxic. He’d stayed far, far away. It had been him who had run with the books without even a goodbye this time. 

That hadn't stopped it. No, if anything, it had only made it worse. He’d thought of you at all times of the day, he could all but hear your voice reading the book as he scanned the pages, a tug along his very soul drawing him back down to that library every time he wandered the halls of his own home. Then, Gwyn had convinced you to come to training, and he was forced to touch, to teach, to talk. He was forced to watch you strip off those robes and your pretty priestess garb, swapped out for tight leathers leant to you by your friend that had made every thought in his head disintegrate to filth. 

He hadn't been able to stay away. He was a helpless both, and you were a brightly burning flame. He was a bumblebee and you were the prettiest flower on a spring day. He was- he was a pathetic, love-starved warrior, and you were the other half of his missing soul.

And that was how he’d found himself here; staring down at you, cheeks almost sore from grinning as you stared back up at him through your lashes, before stiff lines on your body melted away with surrender, shoulders sagging. 

“So?”

“All I was going to say, was that I don’t understand you.” He offered the books back to you, giving you a distraction to look away from him as you caved, confessing whatever you’d locked up. “I know about that whole thing with Gwyn and the High Lady’s sister. I mean, it’s all anybody would tell me about after you started to come around more, warning me off, or whatever.” You waved a hand, dismissing it easily, dismissing it like it hadn't been one of his most crushing fears in those first few months. 

That made his smile soften, his hand taking your own out of the air. He smoothed his thumbs over your knuckles, your sights honing in on it for a second, and that sweet pink blush was back. It was quickly becoming his favourite colour. 

“But, you’re not mated. You’re not married, you’re not even dating anybody. I don’t get it, Azriel. Look at you. You’re a catch. You could have anyone in Velaris, male or female, with little more than a smile and a flirty comment.” He couldn't help the smirk that took over his face as you all but gaped at yourself, cutting a look to him out of the side of your eye. 

Your hand snatched back from his, and he wondered if this might be one of those rare times you gave him a vulgar gesture for his antics. He loved knowing he could pull such passionate reactions from you. Just like now, as the colour on your cheeks deepened to near-red. He liked that even more, wanted to think of other ways to bring colour to your cheeks like that, imaging that maybe-

“Even with your less-than-stellar personality, that is.” You just had to knock him down a couple of pegs, your shocked expression switching with him, until he was the one with parted lips and you were smirking. He wouldn't let anyone else get away with that, wouldn't find it funny and certainly not cute, but you were different. None of his rules had ever applied to you, it seemed.

“You happen to love my personality. And I know you do, so don’t try to deny it.” He tapped the tip of your nose, and you spun away, the hem of your clean white robes brushing his ankles with the motion, and he was left to follow at your heels as you walked back to the trolley. Gripping the handle, you pushed it away, disappearing around into the next row, ignoring his chuckle. 

You were scooping up a new pile of books when you spoke again. “Seriously, Az, what is it? How is it possible that you’re still single, bothering me on your days off instead of doting on some pretty girl somewhere?”

He bite back the smile he really wanted to give, one that would show him just how lovestruck he was, show that he was right here, already doting on the only pretty girl he’d ever need. That was a secret he was still holding tight, locked up in his heart, just his, for now. One day, he’d tell you how much he loved you. One day, he’d ask if you felt that bond snap too, one day, when you were ready to leave this place, to be more. He was happy to wait, he’d wait as long as you needed. If this was all he ever got from you, he’d be more than happy with that too. He could only pray none of this was displayed on his face as you stared, waiting for an answer. 

One day, hopefully, he’d get to show it all. To make you his. To hold you in his arms and kiss you until you giggled and get lost in the way you looked at him. A new dream, to cling to quietly. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” The name slipped out, your breath hitching a little, he knew how much you loved it, and yet he only brought it out for the most special of moments, Azriel was sure he’d look back one day and know this was one of them. “I guess sometimes people just don’t see what’s right there in front of them.”

You stared a second longer, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, wondering if you’d spotted the line yet, the one he was dancing along so precariously. Then you sighed, shrugging a little. “I suppose. It’s still a shame, though.”

You turned away, wandering down the shelves. He watched you go, a smile on his face Cassian would rib him senseless for if he saw it, leaning on the cart to wait. 

And his heart promised him, one day.

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 7/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: so what if you find your husband attractive as hell? word count. 2.6k cw. marriage pact au, mature content, mild smut (oral f! receiving) a/n. this chapter is just me thirsting over Sakusa Kiyoomi:)

Masterlist

After that night when he fell sick, you felt a noticeable shift in the dynamic between the two of you. You’ve always been friends since high school, but you realize that your usual monthly meetups didn’t do justice to how he used to be. When you’re both home, you don’t just pass each other or talk only when needed; you actually have a fun conversation. You exchange everyday life trivia, transforming the usual “hey” and “how was your day?” into meaningful conversations.

Instead of his typical “good” response, he now shares more about his day. “It was good. Bokuto was more behaved today,” he tells you. This prompts you to ask for details, and soon you’re immersed in the full story of his day. He’s also very curious about your corporate life and your friends at work. “What about you? Did the presentation go well?” he asks. “Did that shitty coworker try to steal your idea again? You should really teach her a lesson.”

Both of you inquire deeply about each other's answers, leading to conversations that last well into the evening. Whether you’re eating together at the kitchen table or sitting on the couch, you find yourselves engaged in discussions that bring you closer. 

Last week on Saturday night, you even had your first-ever movie night with him, watching "The Shawshank Redemption" for the first time. Yes, you both are latecomers to classic movies. By the end, you concluded it was fun and decided that horror movies would be next on your list.

You also rediscovered how observant Kiyoomi is. You hadn't noticed that he had been restocking your milk for making lattes. It struck you as odd that the single carton of milk you bought during grocery shopping always seemed to last the entire month. You finally realized what was happening when you caught Kiyoomi putting a new carton of milk in the fridge. “Do you always restock my milk?!” you asked, incredulous. He frowned and replied, “Um. Yeah? Is there a problem?” You wanted to scream at his nonchalance but ended up laughing, pinching his cheek, and thanking him instead.

Physical contact with Kiyoomi was something you hadn't given much thought to before, but if anything, the past week had shown that he was becoming more comfortable with you. During grocery shopping, you used to just walk side by side, but now you noticed he often put his arm around you or held your hand while you walked. Even in the apartment, he was more touchy. He would casually move you by your waist when he needed to get a spoon from the drawer, saying, “Wait a sec,” before placing you back where you were, leaving you flustered.

Komori also noticed the change, teasingly commenting on how well you were getting along with Kiyoomi in your monthly meetup. You didn’t know how to respond, just waving off the comments dismissively. 

It’s been two weeks since Kiyoomi started his training camp. He stays out of town from Monday and comes home on Friday evening. The V. League Division 1 match season starts next week, with matches held almost every weekend with a few breaks over the next seven months. With his absence, you can’t help but feel quite lonely, especially given the recent intensity between you two.

Now, you're on a call with Tami. She's been telling you how much she misses her husband, with her business trips over the last few months and now his busy schedule. You listen attentively, trying to offer support, “I see. Work timings might be challenging for both of you, but as long as there is persistent effort when there’s time, I guess it’s the quality of time you spend together that matters.”

“You’re right,” Tami agrees, her voice tinged with longing. “I’m thinking of going to the cinema weekly with him. Or maybe just movie nights at home? We’ve been super busy lately.”

“Yeah, movie nights are fun too! That’s what I’ve been doing with Omi—like in a friendly way, you know?” you respond.

“What? Friendly way?” Tami laughs loudly.

“Yeah, he’s my friend. So the context is a bit different from yours, but it’s still quality time, right?” you explain.

“He’s your husband, girl!” she keeps laughing.

“But, we’re not like that! I’ve told you,” you protest.

Tami's tone shifts to playful curiosity. “Hey! I just remembered. Have you worn my gift?”

“That lingerie?! God, no!” you exclaim.

“What?! So you never do anything with him?” Tami asks, incredulous.

“No. I’ve told you! We’re not like that. I can't even see him that way. He's my friend,” you insist.

Tami pauses before asking gently, “Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah,” you reply, though now with less certainty.

“Just be prepared in case… y’know what I mean,” Tami advises. You roll your eyes at her.

After your call with Tami, a few moments later, your apartment door opens. Kiyoomi walks in with his bags since it’s Friday. You can’t help but feel a surge of happiness seeing him. You’ve missed him. You rush to him, “Omi! You’re home! I’ve made dinner.” You cling to his arm.

He smiles and pats your head, “Thank you. I’ll have that after I put this in the washing machine.” He lifts his bags.

“Okay!” you reply happily.

You continue your conversation with him after he takes a shower, and you eat dinner together. Then, like last week, you have your movie night with him, but this time, you watch a horror movie. As you sit together on the couch, you realize how much his presence means to you. You’re just happy your friend is home. That’s all. 

Then, Saturday comes, the first day of the volleyball season. You and Kiyoomi start your morning early and head to the stadium where the match will be held. It hits you that it's been over a year since you last watched one of his matches, often because of clashes with your side jobs.

Although the match will start at 3:30 pm, there will be an opening ceremony beforehand. Athletes need to arrive early for warmups and preparation. So, here you are, arriving at 10 am with Kiyoomi. You walk with him to his locker room where he changes clothes, puts on his shoes, and dons his other volleyball gear.

In the locker room, you meet the other athletes from MSBY and their spouses. You also run into Miya Atsumu’s girlfriend, Aiko, whom you met at the New Year's party earlier in the year. After Kiyoomi heads off for his preparations, you sit on the bleachers with Aiko. She congratulates you on your marriage, expressing surprise, saying she didn't recall you mentioning you were Kiyoomi’s girlfriend. You explain that you kept your dating life secret and only announced it once you were married.

Suddenly, a woman approaches you both. “Hey!” she greets, and Aiko responds excitedly, indicating they know each other. The woman turns to you, “Are you Sakusa-san’s wife?” she asks with a warm smile. 

“Yes,” you reply.

“Sorry for the late introduction. I’m Fumi, MSBY’s assistant manager!” she says cheerily.

“Oh hey! Nice to meet you,” you respond.

“We finally met!” Fumi exclaims, taking a seat beside you. “I’ve met all of the MSBY spouses. I’m so glad to finally see you in person.” You chuckle at her enthusiasm. You then start chatting with her and Aiko. The conversation mostly them asking about how you and Kiyoomi met, both getting heart eyed at your story. Fumi comments that it’s hard to imagine Sakusa-san in a romantic relationship. You laugh at her statement.

The opening ceremony starts with the national anthem, followed by speeches from league officials and dignitaries. Each team is then introduced to the crowd, walking out in their uniforms to applause and cheers. You watch as Kiyoomi stands there, feeling a surge of pride. The ceremony continues with a performance by local artists and cheerleaders. The crowd's energy is infectious, making you even more excited about the upcoming match.

When the performance ends and the official opening declaration is about to start, Fumi invites you and Aiko to meet the athletes. “Hey, let’s wish them luck; the match is about to start!” Fumi suggests.

“Sure!” Aiko agrees enthusiastically.

“Are we allowed to meet them now?” you ask, a bit unsure.

“Of course!” Fumi assures you.

“Yeah, I always meet ‘Tsumu before his matches,” Aiko giggles. You nod and follow them.

Outside the locker room, you see the MSBY Black Jackals concluding their final discussion. Some athletes share moments with their families. Aiko runs enthusiastically to Atsumu, hugging and kissing him while wishing him luck. Feeling slightly awkward, you approach Kiyoomi, unsure of what to do. You’re his fucking wife, dammit!

“Hey,” you greet him, rubbing your hands together. He turns towards you, his eyes lighting up and melting your nerves away.

“Hey,” he replies.

You take both of his hands, really wanting to encourage him for the game. “Good luck with the match,” you say, looking up to see the warmth radiating from his eyes. Without thinking much, you bring his hands to your mouth and kiss them. He looks stunned for a second, then hugs you and kisses the top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

He and his team then start to line up to head to the arena, as the match is about to start. You return to your seats with Fumi and Aiko, feeling a mix of excitement and pride for Kiyoomi and his team.

The match finally starts, and you find yourself immediately drawn to the court, your eyes instinctively following Kiyoomi. There's an electric energy in the air, the crowd's anticipation palpable. As the game begins, you can't help but focus on him, mesmerized by his every move.

Kiyoomi’s black wavy hair is slightly tousled, framing his face perfectly and adding to his striking appearance. Each step he takes exudes confidence and a hint of cockiness, a combination that’s both intimidating and captivating. Sweat glistens on his skin, making his muscles stand out even more under the bright gym lights, emphasizing his athletic physique. His focus is intense, his eyes never leaving the ball as he strategizes his next move.

There's something magnetic about his presence, an undeniable allure that draws your gaze and holds it there. Every spike is like a piece of art, a blend of power and finesse that’s unmatched. You watch as he leaps into the air, his body seeming to defy gravity, and then slams the ball over the net with such force that it sends a shiver down your spine. The precision and strength of his play are breathtaking, and it's clear why he's a standout player. Witnessing his performance is nothing short of exhilarating.

You’ve never felt this way about him before. Sure, you've always known he was attractive, but seeing him in his element, dominating the court, is an entirely different experience. He looks so damn good—too good. It makes you want to do something frisky with hi—Fuck. You should stop.

You start to grip your jeans, trying to steady yourself. Fumi notices this and laughs at you, waking you from your trance. You blink at her, slightly embarrassed. “Your husband is an amazing player. You should come often to his matches!” she exclaims. You short-circuit for a moment, the word “husband” ringing in your head. Then, you glance at the court again. That is your husband? Damn. Your reaction prompts Fumi to laugh even more.

Seeing his incredible play, he does look very intimidating, which is how most people perceive him. But you also find him endearing, remembering his everyday quirks at home—a privilege that you have. This realization makes your head spin. You really can’t go back to seeing him as just your roommate and keep denying his attractiveness. Fuck.

The match ends with Kiyoomi’s team winning, and you clap wholeheartedly for the game. You really should come more often. This was fun, and thrilling, and seeing him in his element has given you a newfound appreciation for just how incredible he is, both as a player and as a person.

On the way home, you congratulate Kiyoomi and compliment his amazing performance. He thanks you, glancing over with a small smile. “You should come more often,” he says, his voice warm and inviting. You agree enthusiastically, when suddenly you’re reminded of the revelation you had while watching his performance. You take a peek at him and feel your heart drop. His profile is illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. He looks effortlessly attractive, focused on the road yet completely at ease. His hair is still a bit damp from the shower he just took. The subtle scent of his familiar cologne—something masculine with hints of woody and musky notes—fills the car, creating an intoxicating mix.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come to watch him?

Over the next few days, you try to act as normal as possible. You have conversations with him as naturally as you can, but you can’t help feeling distracted by his movements. Why does everything he does look so damn attractive? Like, who the hell drinks water like that? His usual friendly touches also get you very worked up, making you jumpy as hell. You hope he doesn’t notice this. God forbid he notices!

You just have to take care of yourself, right? Maybe that will reduce your tension when you’re with him. But you feel like the dirtiest and most perverted roommate ever if you get yourself off thinking about him when he literally sleeps in the next room. You're so frustrated with yourself.

This Thursday night is no exception. You’re washing the dishes when suddenly you feel a looming presence behind you. When he taps your shoulder, you almost knock him with the plate in your hand as you turn your head and see him standing there. You keep saying sorry, feeling embarrassed and flustered, while he only replies with a frown.

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, you settle on the couch in the living room with a novel. When you notice him sitting beside you, you take a peek and see he's engrossed in his phone. You try to focus on your novel, but his presence makes you nervous. You then stand up, ready to leave, when you suddenly hear him say, “Wait.” Fuck.

Your heart races as you turn your head to him and see him observing you intently. You try to avoid his gaze, but he reaches for your hand, prompting you to sit back down beside him. Your heart is pounding, and your face feels hot. 

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, his tone concerned.

“No,” you reply, looking down and biting your lip.

“Did I do something wrong?” he presses.

“No!” you finally look at him, seeing the concern etched on his face. “It’s just…” you trail off, looking down again.

After a beat of silence, he tilts your chin towards him. “Can I do something?” he asks softly, his gaze never leaving yours. Before you can answer, his lips are on yours, and you unconsciously sigh in relief as the tension melts away.

The simple kiss quickly deepens into a passionate makeout session. You grip his shirt while he cups your face, and then you feel his hand travel downward. “Can I?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod, not trusting your voice, and he slips his hand into your panties, rubbing you gently. You can't help but moan at his touch.

Then, he gets down on his knees in front of you, still kissing you. He pulls you to the edge of the couch, his eyes level with yours due to his height. He pauses, looking at you intensely. “Is this what I get if you come to my match?” he asks, making your eyes widen.

“I should’ve invited you a long time ago,” he murmurs. Before you respond to him, he starts kissing you again and pulling down your shorts and panties. Then, he kisses your thigh, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” You bite your lip and moan as he starts to eat you out.

You're overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events, by how skillfully he uses his mouth, and by the sight of him kneeling before you, his broad shoulders adding to the intensity. As he adds his digits into you, you entangle your fingers in his hair, moaning, and you cum more intensely than ever before.

He kisses you again after you cum, but when you try to touch his pants, he stops you. “Not now,” he says, leaving you confused as he gets up and goes to his room.

The next morning, he acts as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t just eat you out on the couch last night. You’re left bewildered, wondering what the hell is going on?!

Taglist: @wolffmaiden @yunskook

[copperbadge]

i was thinking of you the other day and your discussions of your ability or lack thereof to visualize things in your mind, because someone asked me who all had been at a gathering, and i answered them by calling up the room in my memory and looking around it to see who was there. and it occurred to me after the fact that i suppose probably not everyone can do that? but i could even tell you at least approximately what everyone was wearing (color, cut, maybe not precise pattern, but the general style, sure). and while i can’t swear to you that it’s 100% accurate because i don’t have a picture to compare it to, i think it’s pretty close.

but now i’m curious - what would your thought process be if you were asked the same question? if you can’t just look around the room in your mind, is the memory interaction-based? or like… voices you remember hearing? or something else?

Well, bear in mind that I haven't got a great memory to begin with -- possibly the ADHD at work, but also there's a condition that's frequently comorbid with aphantasia called Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory -- people with SDAM have trouble recalling huge chunks of their lives and when they do have recall they often remember it as if they'd been told it, they have no emotional sense attached. For example, I remember a trip I took where I had to do some hard shit and it was really scary, but I don't remember the feeling of being scared, I just remember that I was. I have no idea how long the trip was, no memory of the hotel room, very little memory of doing the scary thing. I know I did it, but there's not a lot of attachment there.

This is not ALWAYS the case -- for example I have extremely fond memories of certain other trips -- but I don't really seem to be able to switch it on or off. Like when I was in Europe, I stayed in an AirBNB in London, but by the time I got to Rome like, five days later, I couldn't remember what it was like. I ended up spending a little time one evening kind of calling up memories of where I stayed in London and in Paris to try and hard-code them into my memory, and that worked, but I also needed the help of photos and tumblr posts I'd made to achieve it. ("What did it even look like? Well -- wait, I cooked some pizzas in the microwave while I was there. The microwave was on the counter, opposite the bed, and -- oh, okay, I remember now.")

So like, I would have no goddamn idea of the majority of people at any given gathering where I attended, but is that SDAM, ADHD, a function of my anxiety in social situations, or the aphantasia? Difficult to say.

I hosted a get-together on Sunday and because I was host and there weren't that many people in attendance I could name them off, but I couldn't tell you what they wore. The last party I attended, a week or two previously, was at a friend's house and it was mostly folks I was at least passingly familiar with, but I am bad with names and so couldn't NAME a lot of the people there -- but for example I could say "Well, the hosts were there, and I spoke with X, Y, and Z, so they were definitely there, but I also spoke with like four other people whose names I didn't get. I dunno what any of them were wearing even though it was a costume party." But yeah to even come up with that I would have to think about when I arrived, walk myself through whatever I remember of the event in linear order, and just note down who I spoke with. If I didn't speak with them, or if I didn't know them well, they didn't exist for me.

So I guess the answer is that my memory isn't visual and also just kinda...isn't there a lot of the time. It's not like amnesia, or the profound brain damage you read about where the person only remembers the last ten minutes or doesn't remember anything past a certain date in their life, but I just haven't got much memory for things. It's why I use a lot of lists and spreadsheets and make yearly photobooks.

My photo archive on my computer goes back to about 1998, and it's sorted by year, but the top level folder all the years are stored in is simply titled "Where I've Been" 'cause I probably wouldn't remember, otherwise.

[lives-in-midgard]

Fake it till you make it

Pairing: Yelena Belova x reader

Summary: After you lied to someone about dating Yelena, you ask her to be your fake girlfriend for the Avengers party.

Word Count: 1180

Request: Reader asks that because she told the guy who wants to date her she already has a date and she knows he would find out during the party that it’s not true. [See full request here]

Prompt 10: “Can you please pretend to be my date? Just this time.”

A/N: Thank you for sending me this request! I hope you like it.

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Yesterday you came back from a mission with the Avengers and were now standing outside of the compound, enjoying the good weather. In about an hour there will be a meeting about the mission that you all successfully completed. Your friend and crush Yelena Belova will also come here for the meeting, and you are looking forward to seeing her again.

“Hey, y/n.” You heard someone say behind you. You turned around and saw that it was Bryan, a shield agent you had worked with a few times. At first, he was very kind to you, but after a while he started flirting with you and didn’t want to leave you alone even though you said you weren’t interested in going on a date with him.

“Hey, Bryan.” You greeted him, trying to be friendly.

“You look really beautiful.” He suddenly said and you made a step away from him.

“You know there is this Stark party on Friday and I thought we could go there together as a date?”

“Oh, I actually have other plans.” You said.

“Come on, this will be fun. We can also have dinner before the party, and I can show you my apartment later.” He said with a smirk, and you started to feel uncomfortable.

“No, I already have a date.” You suddenly said without thinking it through.

“You have a date? Who? I thought you were single.” He asked, not believing what you just said.

“Well, no, I’m dating someone.” You paused for a moment as you noticed Yelena driving over with her motorcycle.

“I’m dating Yelena Belova…she’s my girlfriend.” You lied, surprised by your own answer.

“You’re dating Belova?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, you can see it yourself on Friday.” You immediately regretted what you said because how can you ask Yelena to be your date?? You have to go there with Yelena, otherwise he wouldn’t believe you and probably won’t leave you alone.

“Okay, I’m curious.”

“I have to go.” You said and walked away. You went into the compound and searched for Yelena. You had to ask her as soon as possible. You quickly found her in the living room talking to Natasha.

“Hey, Yelena, can we talk?”

“Sure, what’s up?” She said with a smile.

“Can we talk in my room please?” You asked and Yelena looked at Natasha for a second and then went with you your room.

“Is everything okay?” Yelena asked nervously.

“You know that there is this Stark party on Friday, right?” You asked and Yelena nodded. Then you had to pause because you didn’t know what to say next or how to explain that you need her to pretend to be your girlfriend.

“I... I “ You started, but weren’t sure what to say.

“Hey, what’s wrong, you’re scaring me.”

“I need you to be my date on that party and pretend to be my girlfriend.” You quickly said and Yelena was confused.

“Could you please be my fake girlfriend?” You said and when Yelena didn’t say anything, you got nervous.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Can you please pretend to be my date? Just this time.” You said and Yelena thought about it.

“Okay, fine, but you have to tell me why.” She said and you told her everything, starting from the day that shield agent started making you uncomfortable. Yelena listened and got mad because of this Agent wouldn’t leave you alone. She promised to play your girlfriend, so he would believe it.

The time passed quickly and suddenly it was the day of the party. You and Yelena meet before the party to discuss the do’s and don’ts, so that neither of you would feel uncomfortable.

You walked down the stairs with Yelena next to you, feeling a little nervous. Before you went to join the others, she looked at you with a smile and reached for your hand. When Yelena took your hand, you were no longer nervous. You actually felt so safe next to her.

When you entered the room, everyone was already in party mode. Everyone was dancing, singing or had a drink at the bar. Everyone had fun and enjoyed the time. As you and Yelena walked to the bar where Natasha was, you saw Bryan looking at you and Yelena. Yelena noticed where you were looking and when she saw Bryan, she suddenly cupped your cheek and kissed you softly.

“I think he believes it now.” She said and you got a little sad because she only kissed you, so he would think you’re dating.

“Yeah” You said and walked over to Natasha.

“Wow, you two are taking this fake dating very serious.” Natasha said with a grin.

“Of course, we do.” Yelena said and Natasha chuckled. You sat next to Yelena, holding her hand and sometimes she kissed you on your cheek. After sitting there for a while, you started to feel sad because you and Yelena are only going to get so close tonight.

You asked for a drink, then for another one and after a while you were drunk. You were laughing and started singing along to the song that was playing.

“I love this song.” You shouted and Yelena chuckled.

“Let’s go dancing. “ You said to Yelena, but she shook her head.

“No, let’s stay here.”

“Why?” You asked, making a sad face. She wanted to answer, but then you saw Steve behind Yelena.

“Heyyyyyy Steve!” You shouted and waved at him. Steve smiled and waved back at you.

“Sestra, I think you should take your girlfriend to her room.” Natasha said as you rested your head on Yelena’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on, let’s go to your room.” Yelena said to you, stood up from the chair and reached for your hand. You took her hand with a smile and walked to your room. Once you were in your room, you sat down on your bed and started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Yelena asked curiously, sitting next to you.

“Isn’t it funny how I asked you to be my fake date?” You said and Yelena looked confused.

“I think it’s funny, especially since I have a crush on you.” You said and then went quiet.

“What did you just say?”

“Oh no, did I really just say that?”

“I’m so sorry, I understand if we can’t be friends anymore.” You said and looked away.

“Of course, we can still be friends and maybe we could even be more than friends.” Yelena said and now it was your time to be shocked.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you.” Yelena confessed and you started to smile.

“How about we kiss again, but this time for real?” Yelena asked with a grin, and you nodded.

Looks like asking Yelena to be your fake date wasn’t such a bad idea. Otherwise you wouldn’t have confessed that you love each other. You’re glad that you finally know that she has the same feelings for you.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @yelenasdiary | @youralphawolf72 | @buckys-wintersoldier

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Emotions Pt 2 | Sam Winchester x Angel!Fem!Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Angel!Reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI 18+ ONLY!!!, cunnilingus, p in v (wrap it before you tap it), discussions of grief

Word Count: 3110

A/N: Hi! Trying to work on my requests to give myself a bit of an escape from what’s going on in my personal life right now. I am combining requests I was getting for a part 2 to my Sam x Angel!Reader fic with another request from much later in the queue, so I did have to jump around in the order of my fic requests! I hope that’s okay! 

General Writings Masterlist

Pt 1

If you thought humans were strange and intriguing before, being human was even stranger. Your existence had been predictable before you met Sam Winchester. And now, you were feeling and experiencing multitudes you hadn’t known to be possible. Navigating the full scape of human emotion was incredibly difficult and draining at times. Thoughts you’d never had emotion assigned to would cross your mind at random times of the day. And suddenly, you’d be sniffling and trying to control the tears forming in your eyes. 

Sam had gotten good at navigating these moments with you. He would talk about your feelings with you very openly and share some of his own. 

The first time you realized that Sam would one day die, possibly leaving you on earth alone, you were horrified. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, seeing you trying to hold back tears while staring at the ground. 

“You’re gonna die one day,” you said plainly. 

“Uh, yeah,” he snorted. “Yeah, I am.”

“It’s not funny,” you snapped, eyes flashing to his. 

He shook his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” He sat down on the chair across from you. “Just caught me off-guard, ‘s all,” Sam replied. “What brought that on?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It just… came over me all of a sudden. Does that not scare you?”

He considered for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” you asked. 

“ ‘Cause somebody told me Heaven’s real—” he nudged your knee with his, making you huff out a small laugh— “and maybe I’ll get to see my mom. Actually meet her.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” you asked.

Sam stared at you for a moment. 

“You’re my best friend, Sam. What am I supposed to do if you die first?” you asked, eyes becoming glassy again.

“What you did before me,” he replied simply. “You just gotta keep going.”

“No offense, Sam, but you’ve been a complete mess without Dean.”

“That’s different. He’s my brother,” Sam said. 

Your gaze was soft, but it held intensity. So much so that it made Sam squirm beneath it. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I don’t think it’s different,” you sniffed. “I just think it’s— oh, what’s that word— grief.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you. 

“And I think that because you know what you know, you’re convinced that there’s some way to bring him back. And because you can’t do it, you’re not allowing yourself to accept the grief. You’re just… kinda… stuck,” you finished. 

A heavy silence blanketed the air. 

“Y’know, for an angel with zero understanding of human emotion, that was pretty good,” the young man chuckled.

A genuine smile spread across your face.

****

Even with Dean gone, you could see Sam starting to heal. You hoped you played a large part in that. However, you were growing curious as to why you hadn’t heard the angels talking about Castiel retrieving Dean. What were they waiting on?

Ruby hadn’t shown her face, either, much to your surprise. You assumed she could feel that you were here and decided to make herself scarce. A wise choice on her part, if you did say so yourself. 

Sam’s demon blood addiction would sometimes cripple him. On those days where his withdrawals or cravings would get bad, you would sit on the couch or the kitchen floor with his head in your lap and allow him to cry or sleep until the pain subsided. Sometimes, he’d get angry with himself for not being strong enough to push through the affliction on his own, to which you’d remind him that not many humans survive demon blood addiction as well as he had.

“It fucking hurts, (Y/N),” Sam told you, shivering beside you. Sweat beaded at every pore, and his face was flushed. 

You held a wet rag to the back of his neck while he clutched at your knee.

“I know, Sammy—”

“Why didn’t you just let me have it? Maybe I could find Lilith if you’d just—”

You cut him off, trying not to get angry with him. “Sam, no.”

“—But (Y/N)—”

“No.” You pushed yourself off the couch and turned to sit on the ground so that you were eyelevel with him. “I will not let you do that to yourself again. Do you hear me?”

Sam grimaced with watery eyes, but he nodded. 

“I— I can’t watch that happen to you,” you said, tears catching in your throat. It was surprising to find yourself unable to express yourself evenly and coherently as you always had, but your emotion seemed to help you get through to Sam more. 

The other angels had no idea what they were missing. 

***

When you were an angel, you truly didn’t have an internal dialogue. And now, your mind was flooded with constant thought. Occasionally, it was burdensome, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Before, all you had was experience and memory. It was as if you were entirely continuous with your environment, and you took everything around you at surface value. There was no internal reflection. 

“That’s called ‘sonder’,” Sam explained to you. 

“What is?” you asked, temporarily looking away from the river below you. 

You’d discovered a creaky, wooden bridge over a rushing stream on a walk through the forest with Sam. 

“What you just said. Realizing that everybody has their own experiences, and thoughts, and lives entirely separate from yours,” he continued.

You gently kicked your feet back and forth over the edge of the bridge with your arms crossed over the railing in front of you. Sam sat beside you, watching you. “Does it ever get overwhelming?” you asked him, thinking maybe you were the only one feeling so burdened by thought as a result of your new status as a human. 

“What?” Sam asked. 

“Feeling. Thinking,” you elaborated, unable to look at him out of fear that he may judge you.

“Yeah, frequently.” He nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “But, uh, certain things make it better.”

That caught your attention, as his tone sounded a bit loaded. “What things?”

He kept his gaze down but nudged your shoulder with his. “Certain angels.”

A wide smile spread across your face. “Certain Sam Winchesters make it better for me, too.”

He returned your expression. 

***

The fall months were upon you. The cabin you stayed in with Sam was where you first discovered what “warmth” was as you sat by the fire. Now, though, a different feeling encompassed you. 

It started slowly; ignorable, almost. First, small little bumps formed on your arms while you brought the trash out to the dumpster about a mile away from the cabin. Then, you felt like the wind was blowing through your body. You tried your hardest to ignore the feeling, but soon, it felt like your insides were shaking. 

It freaked you out, to say the least. And when you lifted the lid of the dumpster to put your trash inside, your fingers were blue. In fact, you almost couldn’t feel them at all. 

“What the fuck,” you muttered. 

Afraid of what was happening to you, you began running all the way back to the cabin. When you nearly broke the door down with your entry, Sam jumped to his feet. “Whoa, (Y/N), what the hell?”

You were panting, hunched over, and panicking. “Something— is happening…” you swallowed thickly, “to me.”

Sam rushed over to you, bending down to your level and tucking your hair behind your ear. “What? Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” you breathed out. You looked down at your fingertips and realized they weren’t blue anymore. “Wait, where’d it go?”

You and Sam both straightened up, and you continued to search your fingers for the discoloration. 

“Where’d what go?” Sam questioned. 

“My— My fingers were blue just a minute ago,” you explained. 

“Blue?” he repeated.

You nodded. “And my insides were shaking.”

A small smile began to pull at the ends of Sam’s lips. “Did you also have little bumps on your arms?”

Your eyes snapped to his. “How’d you know that?”

“You’re a seraph. You’ve been around for forever, and you got scared of the wind?” Sam asked. 

“The wind didn’t do that to me,” you said pitifully, “it’s never done that before.”

Sam laughed. 

“It’s not funny,” you pouted grouchily. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam continued. “You just got cold, (Y/N).”

You furrowed your brow. 

“Here,” the brunet continued. He opened the door for you, and you walked out of it hesitantly. The first of the Autumn leaves had fallen to the ground and crunched under your feet as you made your way out. 

Sam followed behind, and the two of you stood beside each other silently. You looked up at the trees rustling in the wind, and small wisps of your hair began to lift away from your face. And then, you felt the little bumps forming on your arms again. You looked down, a little less afraid this time. 

“See? Just the wind,” Sam explained. 

Then, a shiver ripped down your spine, and your body began to shake from the feeling. 

“C’mon, let’s get you inside,” he said. Once you were, Sam offered you the jacket that was laying on the back of a chair in the kitchen. You wrapped yourself in it while he continued to tend the fire. 

“It’s probably gonna get cooler tonight, too,” he explained, dusting his hands off and standing from the ground. “This room’s the only one with heat in it.” 

Your eyes widened in worry, as your shivering hadn’t stopped even with the jacket wrapped around you. 

Sam chuckled with fondness at your expression. “You can take my bed.”

“But won’t you be cold, too?” you asked through your clattering teeth. 

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.” Off your look, he continued. “Seriously. I’m kinda a human furnace.”

“C’mere, then,” you asserted. 

The brunet seemed caught off-guard. 

“Please?” you begged. “I’m still cold.”

Hesitantly, he sat on the couch beside you and opened his arms to you. You shuffled across the couch to where you were curled into his chest between his outstretched legs. Sam relaxed against the arm of the couch and wrapped his strong arms around you.

With a look that almost bordered on pleading, you pulled back from his chest and stared up at him. His eyes seemed to almost search your face before he began to lean down toward you. Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, you leaned up to press your lips to his. 

Sam immediately groaned at the contact, and you threaded your fingers through his hair while his hands explored the curves of your waist. When his hand grazed the underside of your breast, you took in a sharp breath. 

Immediately, Sam broke the kiss. “Is this okay?”

Without breaking eye contact, you grabbed his hand and brought it to your breast. An intense lust clouded his eyes, and Sam pulled your head back toward his while he kneaded your breast in his hand. 

Heat flooded your thighs, and you were a bit overwhelmed by the feeling. Your breath quickened as you allowed Sam to push your shirt up over your head. 

He broke the kiss again only to say, “Bed, now.”

You nodded eagerly, pressing your lips back against his. He took your legs and wrapped them around his waist. With you pressed so closely to him, you subconsciously began to grind against him as he carried you over to his bed in the corner of the room. He gently laid you on the bed and pressed his forehead to yours, panting. “You can’t— You can’t do that.”

“What?” you asked timidly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sam shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. “No, no, you’re fine. But I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you keep doing that.”

Hesitantly, you planted your feet on the bed on either side of his hips and began to grind up into him. 

A challenge in Sam’s eyes, he leaned back down to kiss you with an unrivaled passion. His hands roamed your torso, careful to avoid the band of your sweatpants. Gently, he ran his hands along the band of your bra. “Can I take this off?”

You nodded feverishly, breath quickening. As soon as he’d gotten it off, Sam began to kiss down your chest while kneading your breasts in his hands. He continued to kiss down your stomach, nipping at the soft flesh every once in a while. When he was eye-level with your clothed pussy, he asked, “Can I take these off?” running his hands over your clothed hips. 

You nodded, but Sam could tell something was wrong. “What is it?” He straightened up. 

“I’ve just never done this before,” you said honestly. 

“It’s okay,” Sam told you. “If you wanna stop, we can stop.”

You quickly shook your head “no.” “Don’t stop, please.”

He chuckled and began to take your sweatpants and underwear down your hips slowly, teasingly. 

“Please, Sam,” you said. “I don’t know what this feeling is, but I need you here.” You took his hand and brought it near your throbbing cunt. 

He took in a sharp breath, almost seeming unable to contain himself. “Can I touch you?” he asked. 

You nodded eagerly, and he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the bed before dragging his fingers through your folds. You keened while his long, thick fingers circled your clit. He then pulled your thighs toward his face and dove between them, lapping at your clit like a man starved. Your hands flew to his head, and he grabbed them, lacing your fingers together. Sam held your hands on either side of your body, gently stroking them with his thumbs in contrast to the fierceness he was eating you out with. 

“God, Sam!” you cried, grinding your hips into his face. That simply spurred him on more. 

Suddenly, what felt like a knot began to form in your lower stomach. “Wait, Sam,” you said, as the knot began to tighten. 

He pulled away from you, bringing his fingers back to your clit while he crawled over the top of you. “Uh-huh?” he asked. 

You continued to grind down onto his fingers, closing your eyes at the pleasurable feeling. “Something—” you bit your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out, “Something’s happening.”

Sam smiled. “Don’t worry, okay? It’s normal.”

You nodded breathlessly. “Okay.” 

Then, he started to insert his middle finger into you, pulling a sharp breath out of you. 

“I know,” he coaxed you. “But I gotta get you ready for me, okay?”

You nodded. 

“Words, (Y/N/N),” he asserted. 

“Okay,” you said shakily. 

Sam inserted one finger, and then, another. He began to move them in and out of you while putting pressure on your clit with the heel of his hand. The feeling was overwhelming, and you tried to close your legs around his hand. However, you were stopped by his body between your legs. 

The feeling continued to build and build, and you couldn’t hold back your cries anymore. A string of moans and curses left your mouth. 

“Just let it happen, okay? I’ve got you,” Sam told you. 

You nodded. 

“Words,” he demanded. 

“Yes, god, yes,” you replied. “Don’t stop,” you begged. 

He scissored his fingers inside of you, pushing you over the edge. The knot in your stomach snapped, and your core began to throb around his fingers. 

“God, Sam!” you cried out. “Fuck!” 

As your breathing began to slow, he asked, “You okay?” You nodded. “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smirked lopsidedly. 

You looked down at the bulge in jeans, and you looked up at him wantonly. 

“No, no, this isn’t about me,” he told you. 

“But I wanna make you feel good,” you whined. 

“You already are,” Sam told you. 

You leaned up to pull his face down to yours, kissing him again to convey everything you felt for him in that moment. You helped him out of his jeans, and once he had a condom on, he began to line himself up at your entrance. 

“You sure you want this?” Sam asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Please, I need it.”

Slowly but surely, he began to push into you. He put his elbows on either side of your head, allowing you to curl your nails into his back with the pressure you were feeling inside of you. 

“I’m sorry, I know it’s uncomfortable,” he told you.

You shook your head, bringing your hands to either side of his face and kissing him deeply. Sam used that opportunity of distraction to push himself all the way inside, causing both of you to moan into each other’s mouths. 

Once he’d ensured you adjusted, he began to thrust into you. Sam’s movements were slow and deep, allowing you to feel every inch and ridge of his cock. You closed your eyes and dropped your head back in pure euphoria as he began to pick up his pace, bringing both of you closer to your climaxes. 

When you felt the knot beginning to form in your stomach again, you brought your hand to your clit and rubbed circles over it. Sam, having none of it, pushed your hand aside and mimicked the motion himself, allowing you to rake your nails up and down his back. Between the feeling of him thrusting inside of you and the pressure on your clit, the knot inside you snapped. 

With a keening cry, you moved your hips in time with histo ride out your high while Sam rode out his. The two of you breathed heaving breaths, allowing time for both of you to come down.

When the both of you were cleaned up and thoroughly spent, Sam held you against his chest while you drew invisible patterns on his upper chest. 

With a smile tugging on the ends of his lips, Sam asked, “You still cold?”

Taglist for Emotions:

@slutforfictionalcharacterss @criminalmindsiscool @littledebbieinabigworld

Forever tags are open; Series Rewrite taglist is closed!! :) Requests are open!

[good-chimes]

Cub takes over the Permit Office

A short textual recap of the Succession-style coup Cub just carried out (Timestamp: Grian s10 e21 14:40-29:30)

Grian, Scar and Skizz all receive a mysterious summons to a disciplinary hearing to discuss ‘restructuring’ at the Permit Office.

Scar and Skizz turn up thinking they’re in trouble with Grian. Grian, who has received two warnings for completely unfair reasons like ‘not doing his job’, knows he’s in trouble with Mysterious HQ Person (Grian, terrified but curious: Is it Doc??).

Waiting nervously, all three of them agree that their collective efforts are a shambles, a mild blame game ensues, also a horse is here and they can’t kill it because Judge Bdubs would object.

A flying figure approaches.

To Grian and Skizz’s surprise and Scar’s delight, it’s Cub.

Cub times his slow-falling potions to sink slowly and dramatically to the ground in a completely horizontal position. (Cub: Hello, boys) (Scar: Hello, God!)

Cub has a red tie and a gold name tag and performs an immediate show of dominance by taming the horse and handing out golden apples.

Scar: yeah that horse was—

Cub: it’s my horse now

Grian, eating the apple: He’s trying to butter us up. Skizz, don’t eat the apples.

Cub: Grian, I have some excellent news for you, my friend. You’re fired.

Grian: I’m what—

Cub: And also rehired! To a lesser position.

Grian: So I’m, what, assistant permit manager?

Cub: assistant TO the permit manager.

Cub: that’s me.

Cub: I’m sorry you had to find out this way

Grian: [into his hands] I’m so relieved I hate this job so much

Grian: IT’S NOT FUN AND I CAN’T CONTROL IT. LOOK AT THE SHOPPING DISTRICT. THERE’S POP UP SHOPS EVERYWHERE.

Grian: even I’ve got a pop up shop!!

Cub: Grian and I share a similar sentiment, which is that the permits shouldn’t exist

Cub: which is why we both have these jobs

Scar: But… but it was you two who came up with the idea of permits in the first place!

Cub: yeah

Cub: but you were supposed to enforce it

At this point it should be noted Cub has variously a) claimed he's been sent by the higher ups and he didn't want to do this but, boys, he has to, b) claimed he is one of the higher ups, c) claimed he's 'quite high up but not so much' d) vehemently denied that there exists anyone who has a fancier name tag than he does

Cub forces them into an immediate tour of the shopping district

There really are pop up shops everywhere

Cub: Alright, here's some TNT.

Grian: er! wait! I dunno—!

Cub: What.

Grian: Maybe we should give people some warning?

Cub: Hm

Scar: We did! We have a thing! I built a redstone countdown clock! [waves at the contraption of stacked red-yellow-white pillars he spent several weeks on]

Grian: Scar, that HASN'T MOVED SINCE YOU BUILT IT

Scar: It does move! It's just going slowly!

Cub: We need to move faster.

Scar: I can adjust it. This is 2024 advanced redstone. I can change it. [flies off]

Skizz: Can he really—

Grian, resigned: He's just going to mine it. [Scar mines it]

Skizz: Can I take a shot at him?

Cub: Fire away, Skizz

Grian: I'm not sure about this new management!

Meanwhile Cub has been contemplating the nearest popups in a critical way.

Cub: I'm going to be honest, I'm part of this glass collective, and even I want to see this one blown up.

Grian: Look, boss, what if we put a big billboard up that says 'Pop up purge'... certain date.

Cub: Hm.

Cub: That's very reasonable. I was just going to blow stuff up, but if you want to do that, I think it's a good choice.

Grian: How much time are you giving them, boss?

Skizz: Well, that's what the timer was—

Scar: I HAVE A TIMER! IT'S COUNTING DOWN!

Cub: We want to do this lickety-split. Let's go two weeks.

Grian: [repeating to himself under his breath] Two weeks!

Scar: I'll program the redstone!

Cub: You program it in, Scar. Grian, you make the billboard. Skizz…

Skizz: Yeah?

Cub: …you keep on keeping on, baby.

Cub: You've been the background of this whole operation, Skizz.

Skizz now dramatically attempts to get them to a high point so they can look at the layout of the shopping district, a simple task stymied only by the fact Scar and Grian both refuse to take any instructions unless they come from Cub

Cub then orders that pop up shops will be confiscated to Scar and Skizz's enforcement office. Grian very curious about the punishment for permit violations. Scar suggests banishing violators to the far reaches by Doc's 'shooty-offy cannon'. Cub approves this exile penalty enthusiastically.

Cub: Alright.

Grian: There's a storm comin'.

Scar: [looks up at the blue sky] Really?

Skizz: Us. He means us.

Grian: It's more like a moderate breeze.

Skizz: Well, that's official, we're under new management! And the tone I’m getting is that Rub-a-Dub-Cub is not messin’ around.

Cub: You guys gotta get to it.

[Actual in-game storm starts]

Grian: There is a storm coming.

Scar: A storm of pain!

Grian: [to Cub] I'm so relieved. I couldn’t keep control of any of this.

Cub: It's alright, Grian. [PEAL OF IN-GAME THUNDER] We'll keep people in line.

Grian: It feels like the permit office has taken a really dark turn

Cub: Nah, it'll be fine. People will care about their permits! [MORE THUNDER] People will comply :)

[liteyagummy]

𝖰𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖮𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 2

TW: yandere behavior, cnc, r4pe, abductor and captor, (the characters are aged up let’s just act like they stayed in dorms so everyone is around 19-20) NSFW

ignore any typos please and thank you, this is one of the longer ones so sit back and grab a snack ||fem reader nothing specified but gender and quirk

(let me know if you enjoy longer or shorter stories!)

your palms sweat as you’re nervous to walk back inside the classroom after weeks.. no MONTHS of absence.. you were unaware of all the cover ups kirishima had dished out you closed your eyes and sighed walking in the class just having a moment to discuss what Aizawa had just told them for todays lesson

Kiri right behind you, he was never going to let you guys sneak around and hide your relationship.. even before he was very open with his friends about how he felt about you just clearly never told him the plan of KIDNAPPING but.. nonetheless, your friends instantly bolted up to you, Jiro, hagakure, and midorya along with other but you weren’t too close to class A even though you transferred in your friends were mainly in class 1B but 1A was very nice to you still

“hey y/n how was your work study!” midorya said with his notebook out with a pen behind his ear

“yea! did you fight anyone outside of training??” denki chimed in

“did you learn any new moves??” Uraraka asked

“i doubt it’d be anything better than mine.” bakugo said from the side of the class having been shouting at sero about the assignment they’d just gotten.. after you looked at kiri confusedly he smiled brightly his red hair sticking up and his sharp teeth showing “y/n actually JUST got dropped off, im sure she’s tired maybe let’s ask about it later at lunch! as of now what are we doing in class?” he raised a brow as he guides you by your hips to your seat everyone seeing this, the girls giggling and the guys having a slight look of shock to their face you just sat down, even though he was lying through his teeth. he was right you were tired you weren’t used to waking up for school anymore you forsure had to get back into your routine

“we’re meeting up with class 1b, we’re going to be doing training together again.. i’m not sure why? it’s pretty random but” tsuyu said

“then again when isn’t our class assignments random” momo chimed in

“regardless we should start getting prepared we don’t want to be late and give class 1B another reason to dislike our class” ida said

after getting ready you walked next to the girls talking with them catching up as you entered the new training dome the old faces flooding back but one standing out.. who was he? you were never IN class 1b you would just meet them separately when walking around.. you’d thought you met everyone already but clearly not

“y/n!” kendo waved with a smile “where have you been girl” she asked as she put a hand on her hip to talk to you while also watching out for her classmates mouth

“oh i had- a last minute work study.. i um, since i came to the hero course late i needed to get that out of the way” you lied on your toes

she nodded “you’ll have to tell me about it! how cool is it that we get to train together “ she continues the conversation but honestly you were zoning in and out of it.. you were curious about the man you’d never seen before

“who is that” you accidentally cut her off while motioning to this guy

“oh that’s tetsu tetsu” she looked to him and then called him over, your cheeks started to get read as he was running over kirishima took a break from talking to his friends to look and see what you were up to, as he saw tetsutetsu running up to you he stood on guard

Kendo heard her classmate start to get a little too chatty, she excused herself walking straight over to monoma and snatching him up apologizing for him yet again

you were alone with this steel man infront of you.. he spoke starting the conversation off with a smile and trying to get to know you, you entertained it truthfully this made kirishima’s blood boil he tried to keep his composure not wanting to blow up here and now. why did this guy think he could talk to his babe?? you were HIS and HIS only not to be shared or easily acceded, he walked over with a fake smile and butted into your conversation, you looked at kiri then tetsutetsu.. then back again.. then again. why the hell were they so similar? kiri wrapped his arm around you “ hey babe! are you ready to train hard! not harder than me because the manly thing to do would be to train the hardest “ he smiled you nodded “ honestly i’m probably the only one who really needs this extra training “ you shook your head, kiri used this opportunity to turn you away and walk you back to their side you noticed this “i- “ you turned back to tetsutetsu who was waving with a chuckle, kiri balled his fist up as you both were away now he’d taken you back to his friends and there you were again not knowing what was going on but somehow still in the middle of the conversation what with denki and kirishima pulling you in for your input on topics here and there how could you space out

as you all stood in your hero outfits you crossed your arms waiting then a loud alarm went off you covered your ears quickly as villains ran out, but they weren’t normal villains they were teachers pretending but man were they being destructive ida and kendo were quick to call out plays and plans each class following the instructions of the most trusted

you all were off quick, you wanted to be a sidekick.. something like hawks you wanted to make someone else make their way to greatness so your training was a but different, you ran in jumping through the sky at fast speeds and teleporting in mid air getting all the play civilians out the way of harm

kirishima followed behind you using his quirk to break any rubble that flew your way as he took down the villains guarding those who you had to save, as soon as you got everyone back you were on the guard to watch them, making sure no one was harmed or injured you stood up grabbing your long swords putting some of your quirk energy into them to make the weapon more powerful, you watched the door to the safe haven that held the civilians

before you could even look over a kick was sent your way sending you down, you blocked it at the last moment but couldn’t stop the momentum, looking down at your arms where the blow had landed now being a bit of red “fuck” you mumbled as you jumped up in the tree where you had been knocked down from

You crouch on a thick branch, hidden in the shadows of the training dome’s artificial forest. Your katanas are ready, the familiar weight grounding you as you listen for any sign of movement below. Mirko, the Rabbit Hero, is somewhere in the underbrush—fast, you know it. you saw her. she was playing the villain today. You knew she wouldn’t hold back.

Your Quirk hums with energy, primed for teleportation and high jumps. A snap of branches below signals her approach. You catch a glimpse of white—a flash of her ears—before she rockets upward, aiming directly for you. Instinct kicks in, and you teleport just as her powerful kick obliterates the branch you were perched on. You reappear on another limb, high above, your senses sharp.

Mirko grins as she spots you, her relentless speed closing the distance in an instant. You teleport again, keeping her guessing, your katanas flashing in the dim light as you strike from behind. She’s fast, but you’re quicker, anticipating her every move. There’s something more at stake today—a subtle caution in your movements, a reason to protect yourself with even greater precision.

As you battle Mirko, another clash unfolds in the training dome. Best Jeanist, acting as the “boss” villain, uses his Quirk to control the fibers around him, manipulating the environment to ensnare his opponents. Six students—Bakugo, Ashido, and Sero from Class 1A, along with Monoma, Tokage, and Kamakiri from Class 1B—face off against him.

Jeanist’s fibers snake through the simulated city, creating barriers and traps. Bakugo blasts through them with his explosions, shouting, “Outta my way, you damn extras!” His relentless energy sends shockwaves across the battlefield, but Jeanist adapts, tightening his grip.

Ashido melts the barriers with her acid, clearing paths, while Sero swings through the chaos with his tape. Monoma, ever the strategist, copies Sero’s Quirk, using it in tandem to bind Jeanist’s fibers. “We need to coordinate better!” Monoma urges.

Bakugo scoffs, “Like I’m taking orders from you, copycat!”

As the battle intensifies, Tokage splits her body into pieces, scattering around Jeanist to create distractions. Kamakiri slashes through the fibers with his blades, trying to cut a path forward. But Jeanist’s control is overwhelming, and the group struggles to gain ground.

In the midst of the chaos, Tokage yells, “Bakugo, we need your explosions to disrupt him! Sero, get ready to tie him down!”

Bakugo sneers, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

Before Bakugo can argue further, Sero snaps at him, “Bakugo, focus! We won’t win if you don’t listen!”

Bakugo glares but knows Sero’s right. “Fine! But this better work!” he grumbles.

With a fierce explosion, Bakugo creates a massive shockwave that shakes the battlefield, forcing Jeanist to lose control of his fibers. Sero and Monoma act quickly, shooting their tape to bind Jeanist’s arms and legs. Tokage’s scattered body parts add confusion, while Kamakiri slashes through any fibers that attempt to regroup.

Ashido seizes the moment, dousing the area around Jeanist with her acid, weakening his defenses. Bakugo delivers a final, powerful blast, breaking through Jeanist’s control entirely.

Best Jeanist, impressed by their unexpected synergy, concedes, “Well done. You’ve shown real teamwork.”

The exercise ends with the announcement of their victory. The six students, panting but triumphant, exchange looks of pride. Bakugo scowls, though a hint of satisfaction lingers in his eyes. “Tch, you better not get used to me listening to you,” he mutters.

As the victorious team of students from Classes 1A and 1B stay on guard, the sounds of their fight ending echo faintly through the training dome. But in another part of the dome, your battle is far from over.

The clash between you and Mirko is intense, the training exercise pushing both of you to the limit

As she dodges and lunged again, you teleport above her, diving down with your katanas poised for a decisive strike. She barely has time to react, twisting to avoid the worst of it, but your blade still grazes her side. The impact sends you both tumbling through the branches, but you teleport just before hitting the ground, landing lightly as Mirko rolls to her feet.

She’s breathing hard, a grin of respect on her face. “You’re tough to pin down,” she admits, clearly impressed.

You lower your swords slightly, maintaining your focus. “Speed alone won’t win this,” you reply, your voice steady.

Mirko nods, hopping back with a look that says she’s noticed the change in your approach, even if she doesn’t understand it. “Keep fighting like that, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

As she gets away, you know the real challenge is just beginning. You’ve proven you’re more than ready for what’s ahead, your Quirk sharp, your resolve even sharper ready to hold your own in this damned class.

You make your way through the dense forest, each step feeling heavier than the last. The training dome’s artificial environment is convincing, but it’s the fatigue that’s all too real. You haven’t eaten anything today—only managed to keep down some water before throwing up this morning—but you push the discomfort aside. There’s still work to be done.

The small house where the civilians are sheltered comes into view, and you spot Kirishima at the entrance, standing guard. His eyes brighten when he sees you, and he quickly makes his way over. “Hey! You hanging in there?”

You nod, though the dizziness is getting harder to ignore. “Just checking on the civilians,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. The last thing you want is for him to notice how worn out you’re feeling.

Kirishima gives you a once-over, his expression softening with concern. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look too great.”

You force a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a rough morning.”

He frowns slightly, still not convinced. “You’ve been going nonstop. If you need to take a break, I can handle things here.”

The offer is tempting, but you shake your head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll grab something to eat at lunch.”

Together, you check on the civilians inside the house. They’re safe, which is a relief, but you can feel your energy fading fast. The lightheadedness intensifies, and you have to steady yourself against the doorframe as you step back outside.

The sun is warm, filtering through the leaves, but it does little to chase away the chill that’s starting to settle in your bones. You take a deep breath, hoping it’ll clear your head, but your vision blurs slightly. You blink hard, focusing on Kirishima’s steady presence beside you.

“Training’s almost over,” he says, glancing around. “Looks like 1A and 1B really pulled together.”

You nod, though even that small motion feels like it takes too much effort. The teamwork between the classes has paid off, and the announcement over the intercom confirms it. “Good work, everyone. Classes 1A and 1B, please return to the main building for lunch.”

Kirishima grins, giving you a thumbs-up. “We did it!”

You return the gesture weakly, your thoughts consumed by the idea of food. “Let’s head back,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

As you walk toward the exit, Kirishima stays close, his eyes never leaving you. “Seriously, if you’re not feeling well, let me help. I’ll make sure you get to the cafeteria, okay?”

You manage a small sigh your head throbbing “ill be fine i swear it” you softly say

He smiles, but there’s an undercurrent of multiple different emotions but the main one , concern. that he doesn’t dare voice. You’re grateful for him even letting you out the dorm today, even if you can’t quite place why you’re feeling so off. Right now, all you can think about is getting something to eat and shaking off this strange weakness. you’ve used up your teleportation for the day. one of the main reasons you hardly use that quirk

The victory in the training exercise feels distant as you focus on making it back to the main building. Lunch is next, and you know you need to refuel. Whatever’s going on, you’ll figure it out later—after you’ve had a chance to rest and recover.

After the intense training exercise, the students head back to the main building for lunch. The atmosphere is lighter, filled with chatter and the clinking of trays. You and Kirishima, freshly changed and looking a bit worn, make your way to the cafeteria. His hand is firmly on your hip, a constant presence as he guides you through the crowd.

The usual suspects from Class 1A and 1B have already gathered, their voices mingling in a cacophony of post-training relief. Kirishima steers you toward an empty table, where Midoriya, Uraraka, Jiro, and others from both classes are waiting.

“Hey, y/n!” Midoriya greets enthusiastically, notebook and pen still in hand. “So, how was your work study? Kirishima mentioned it was pretty intense.”

“Yeah,” Uraraka chimes in, “did you get to face any villains or learn new techniques?”

Bakugo, sitting with his usual scowl, adds, “Hope it wasn’t just some fluff job. Better be something worth your time.”

Kirishima, his arm around you, smiles brightly. “It was definitely a challenging experience! But y/n’s been working hard and could use a break. Maybe we should save the details for another time?”

Denki, leaning forward, grins. “Come on, just a little teaser? Was it as crazy as the stuff we did today?”

You give a tired smile, thankful for Kirishima’s attempt to shift focus. “It was... pretty demanding. I learned a lot, though.”

Jiro tilts her head, still curious. “Kirishima made it sound like you were in the thick of it. Any cool stories?”

You nod slightly, glancing at Kirishima. “Maybe I’ll share more later. For now, I’m just looking forward to some food and a bit of rest.”

Kirishima chuckles, squeezing your shoulder gently. “Yeah, let’s focus on enjoying lunch. We all worked hard today.”

As you settle into your seat, Kirishima finally releases his grip, though his hand lingers close by. The group’s curiosity remains piqued, and Midoriya presses further. “Come on, y/n, just a bit more about your work study?”

You take a deep breath, smiling to keep up the pretense. “Alright, fine. There was this one moment I fought a hero pretending to be a villain. It was pretty intense. I used some of the techniques I picked up to keep up with her.”

“Really?” Uraraka leans in, eyes wide. “What happened?”

You nod, picking up your fork. “Well, I was up against Mirko, the Rabbit Hero. She’s incredibly fast. I had to rely on my teleportation and high jumps to stay out of her reach. There was one time I was perched in a tree, and she charged at me. I teleported just before she reached me and struck from above. It was a close call.”

Jiro looks impressed. “Sounds like you had to stay on your toes. Did you use any new moves or strategies?”

You nod, keeping the details vague. “Yeah, I combined some of the techniques I’d been working on. Like using my teleportation to disorient her and then hitting her with a surprise attack. It wasn’t exactly easy, but I managed to pull through.”

Bakugo, with a skeptical look, mutters, “Sounds like you didn’t learn anything new but just got to show off your usual tricks.”

You shrug, a smirk playing on your lips. “You could say that. Sometimes it’s just about using what you’ve already mastered in new ways.”

Kirishima grins, relieved by the change of topic. “Well, whatever you did, it must have been impressive. I’m just glad you’re back and in one piece.”

The conversation shifts, with everyone eager to share their own experiences from the training. As you enjoy your meal, you let yourself relax, the warmth of the cafeteria and the friendly banter a welcome contrast to the day’s earlier chaos.

As the group finishes classes up and heads back to their dorms, you and Kirishima make your way to your “shared” dorm. The atmosphere in the hall is relaxed, filled with the casual chatter of students winding down after the day’s training.

When you finally reach the door to your room, Kirishima’s usual easygoing smile fades, replaced by a more serious expression. You notice the change, but before you can ask, he opens the door and ushers you inside.

The moment the door clicks shut, Kirishima’s demeanor shifts from jovial to intense. He turns to face you, his brows furrowed.

“Hey, what was that back there with Tetsutetsu?”

You look up, startled. “What do you mean?”

“You seemed pretty chummy with him,” Kirishima says, his voice edged with frustration. “He was all over you, and you didn’t exactly push him away.”

You quickly try to defuse the situation. “It wasn’t like that. He was just being friendly.”

Kirishima’s expression hardens. “Friendly? You were practically cornered by him. I saw the way he looked at you. I don’t like it.”

You shake your head, trying to explain.

“Kirishima, it’s nothing. We were just talking in barely even know the guy.”

His frustration doesn’t wane. “It’s not just about him. It’s about how he was acting like he had some claim over you, and it bothered me.”

Seeing his anger, you try to reassure him. “Kiri, it really was nothing. I wasn’t interested in him. He was just a bit too forward, and I was trying to be polite.”

“bullshit so laughing and talking and blushing is being polite.” he looked away growing more annoyed with the situation. “y/n don’t- make me.. do something i don’t want to.. it won’t be very heroic.” he said as he walked into the dorm more going to his closet to take his close off and change

you worried about that statement.. what did he mean..?

whatever he meant this anger needed to go somewhere.

“y/n.” he called from the bedroom..

PART 1 (part 3 coming soon)

[imperator-titus]

Favorite Party Banter [Minsc Edition]

[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]

I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.

Either Minsc is the main speaker/subject or I think Minsc's reaction is good shit.

Not in any particular order.

[PB_Minsc_Astarion_UpperTracks]

Minsc: Oh, I do not know, Boo. If you buried the nuts here before we were stone, I am thinking they might have gone bad.

Astarion: Minsc! Enough! The hamster isn’t saying a damn thing and you know it.

Minsc: Well, Astarion. Boo is of good breeding, and so only speaks when he has something nice to say. {Devnote: Haughty, offended, ‘Well, I never’}

Minsc: Perhaps this is why he has never seen fit to speak to you.

Astarion: How delightfully vicious. I’m beginning to like the hamster.

[PB_Minsc_Astarion_EasternDocks]

Minsc: ASTARION! FISH! ASTARION! {Devnote: Struck by a brilliant idea, so excited he cannot use his words}

Astarion: Minsc, please - slow down. Use your words.

Minsc: Minsc has thought how you might be a more virtuous vampire - feast on fish instead. They are made of naught but neck! {Devnote: Delighted with himself, as if it’s a matter he’s been mulling over for some time. If he must travel with ‘bad’ people, he will try to make them ‘better’}

Astarion: It’s a sweet thought, but fish just doesn’t have the flavour of full-blooded red meat.

Minsc: No, you do not ‘agree’, Boo. I told you you have been spending far too much time around the pale one… {Devnote: Hushed, style of a whispered argument that’s been had before, trailing off to be discussed later. Minsc is worried that his hamster is being corrupted} 

[PB_Minsc_Astarion_BasiliskGate]

Minsc: Ah, but it is a fine thing to walk with friends beneath the warming sun! {Devnote: just spontaneously happy}

Astarion: 'Friends' might be a stretch, but otherwise - yes, I fully agree!

Minsc: You might have your cloudy locks to keep the heat off your head, but do not forget that Minsc has Boo! We will be like twins, eh?

Astarion: We will? Gods - two hundred years and I've never missed seeing my reflection more.

[PB_Minsc_Gale_HouseOfHope]

Minsc: Gale! You will perhaps be able to explain where Boo has not - what exactly is the difference between a devil and a demon?

Gale: A fascinating question, one that boils down to which criteria we choose to apply. Are we speaking about the physiological? Theological? Etymological? {Devnote: in teacher mode - up for an in-depth, intellectual discussion}

Minsc: Eh. Just how-to-kill…-ical. {Devnote: Nonplussed, echoing gale’s ending every word with ‘ical’}

Gale: Oh. Then for your purposes, they are exactly the same. {Devnote: Disappointed}

[PB_Minsc_Gale_ROM_Act3]

Minsc: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt, with all of this stringy hair in your face.

Gale: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed that was a custom of some sort. {Devnote: Curious, referring to Minsc’s origins}

Minsc: Oh, no! Most warriors of Rashmen wear long battle-braids, weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp?

Gale: Thank you, but I’m more wizard than warrior. I’m not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting. {Devnote: very politely declining}

[PB_Minsc_Shadowheart_ROM_Act3_Selune]

Minsc: Shadowheart. I saw you pluck Boo from the ground, when you thought no one was watching. {Devnote: Had been mulling this, now broaching it}

Minsc: It pleases you, to hold him? And you have truly cleansed yourself of Shar? {Devnote: Suspicious, but giving the benefit of the doubt}

Shadowheart: I suppose you're right. On both counts. {Devnote: Arc: SH has turned from Shar, got to hold hamster}

Minsc: HMMMMMMMM. Then for one day only, you may carry him in your pocket. So long as it is clean. Padded. Well-aired. {devnote: Dubious but willing to extend this great honor to her against his better judgement. Listing off Boo's rider}

Minsc: And full of nuts! {Devnote: Rushing in the most important condition of all}

[PB_Minsc_Gale_SorcerousSundries]

Minsc: Minsc has never trusted places such as this. Too much of a wizard's power can be simply packaged and picked up. {Devnote: Grumbling as we make our way through the shelves at Sorcerous Sundries}

Minsc: Well, picked up by all but Minsc. When he touches the many delicate little jars, oh how the wizards shout and stare! {Devnote: revealing that his objection to Sorcerous Sundries is not in fact a philosophical belief that wizards have too much power - they just make him feel stupid and awkward when he pokes in their things}

Gale: Fear not, Minsc. You have a wizard at your side who positively encourages such curiosity. You'll fit right in. {Devnote: Reassuring}

Minsc: Obliged, wizard. Should we find our way to a weaponsmith, Minsc will rough you up a little - so that you too can fit in. {Devnote: Warm, comradely - would genuinely be doing Gale a favor}

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Toby with a member of the mansion who just doesn’t like him? (Platonic btw) They don’t shit talk him or anything and work fine.. they just don’t like him in a more casual setting. -🧶 (I’m curious to see how this would go. Thank you :) )

Interesting, I think this is the first request I've gotten like this :p

Toby is, unfortunately, used to people not liking him. Part of it is due to his intentionally excitably annoying facade he keeps up all the time, and the other part of it is just due to his behaviors exhibited by his trauma, which of course isn't his fault. You don't seem to judge him for his trauma, and instead just seem to not particularly enjoy his company. The only downside to people not liking him is Toby tends to wonder what he's doing wrong to make you feel that way, as he does try very hard not to make people dislike him, and he often changes his behavior depending on who he's around. So, obviously, it bothers and upsets him that you have such disdain for him.

He knows not every person in the world is going to like him, but he can't help but wonder just what it is about him that you dislike so much. Whenever the two of you are working on missions together he's respectful and doesn't try to get too close to you, but you can always feel his eyes watching you, as though he wants to say something to you but he never does. Even when the two of you are just lounging about the mansion sometimes the feeling of someone watching you never seems to leave you, which in turn just makes you more agitated that he can't seem to leave you alone. If you tell him to knock it off he will, but it tends to make him a bit mopey, which honestly makes you prefer him just watching you from a distance. You're never rude to him, and you never talk about him behind his back, so really he has no reason to be so upset about you not liking him, but the reality is that it makes him incredibly anxious living in the same place as someone that doesn't like him, and it has him set on edge the whole time, scared one day your calm distaste might turn into something worse.

I think eventually Toby would end up wanting to have an actual sit down conversation with you to discuss that fact, just so if anything he could relax a bit more in the mansion around you. He expresses what I've written above, that he knows you don't have to like him, but that his residual trauma has him scared one day your indifference might turn into anger or violence, and he feels as though he has to walk around on eggshells around you. His honesty and openness catch you off guard, and of course, you put an end to his worries, rightfully stating that you would never want to hurt him or cause him any emotional harm. You may not like him, but you're not an asshole and you're not going to cause him any harm. Toby visibly relaxes while you explain that to him, and he apologizes for ever having such worries in the first place, and you apologize for having made him feel that way. The two of you will go back to your normal, of you not wanting to be close to him, and Toby watching you from a distance and never impeding, but I think it would be a bit lighter. Toby still views you in some sort of way as his family, as he does everyone in the mansion, and he'll protect you if he thinks he needs to, just as you would him, but he no longer really feels the pressure to try and grow closer to you. He'll accept that sometimes you can't be friends with everyone, even though he'd like to be friends with you, and maybe that chance will come in the future, but for now, he's content to just exist in your space without worry.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY THANE KRIOS  *  assorted dialogue from the mass effect trilogy, updated version

technology cannot cure greed.

face it bravely. i know you are good at that.

perhaps i shouldn't have said that. i don't want you to worry or feel guilty that you are not with me.

i cannot forget you.

there were too many. shields couldn’t hold up.

a quick exit is preferable.

this is… problematic.

i have thought over what you said.

i was curious to see how far you’d go to find me.

you were a valuable distraction.

i prefer to work quietly.

you have only made my life better.

i rarely make mistakes.

you disrupted my plan, but your distraction eventually proved valuable.

what would you like to discuss?

i’ve heard of them.

you’ve built a career on performing the impossible.

i’m dying.

the universe is a dark place. i’m trying to make it brighter before i die.

an assassin is a weapon. a weapon doesn’t choose to kill. the one who wields it does.

i came here to do a job for you.

where shall i put my things?

do you need something?

i won’t be a burden to you.

perhaps later you can give me some suggestions.

i can do nothing to alter my fate.

there’s so many ways to interpret one’s place in the universe.

in my experience, those who are truly dangerous don’t act like they are.

perhaps we can discuss it later. i’ve wasted too much of your time.

it’s difficult to control at times.

i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

my training was very thorough.

i appreciate these chats we have.

it seems there will no one to mourn me when i die.

you’re the only friend i’ve made in ten years.

i shall… consider it.

it’s clear my conversation skills have atrophied.

just don’t make the same mistake i did.

now that you are here, though, it seems more difficult to talk about.

i abandoned them.

there have been complications.

something happened that should not have.

i would like your help to stop him.

that thought haunts me more than any other.

i don’t need your help, i want it.

i’ll be meditating until you need me.

there is nothing left to speak of.

i know how easy it is for a person to lose himself in the galaxy.

the galaxy is small compared to the endless sea of dark space.

removing evil isn’t the same as creating good.

i appreciate your patience.

you… you are very kind.

that assassin should be embarrassed.

one day i’ll tell you what it means.

i confess, i’ve come to care for you.

i hope it won’t offend you if i carry you in my heart.

whatever may happen, my gun is yours.

i’m… ashamed.

[imagionationstation]

How often DOES Donnie get hugged? I'm curious now...

Well gosh diddly darn NOW I’M CURIOUS TOO!

*pulls out folder and cues up 2012tmnt episodes*

I wanted to start outlining photos but there’s a photo limit.

So you get an analysis instead:

Okay, so according to my info, he most commonly receives hugs from April. Somehow, despite fans insisting that they’re only friends and she’s only confused bc stressors in her life and she’s ‘not romantically interested in him,’ she also never has any trouble running into his arms?? Like no matter who’s around??

Sad/happy/relieved/any emotion = hug/kiss the Tello??

No wonder this boy child is confused. She’s the one doing all the initiating when it comes to anything physical about their relationship.

Anyway, we’re not actually here to talk about the confused teens-

And when we step past that, the next person who is free with his hugs is definitely Mikey. Of course, he’s free with hugs with everyone, but at least he tries to keep things fair between brothers. Anything from a gentle side-hug to forcefully yanking a brother off the ground. His bear hugs are not to be underestimated.

Most of the time, Donnie doesn’t seem to mind the hugs. He actually seems to appreciate the embraces, or tolerate them fondly. It’s not like he doesn’t hug back either. He just seems more likely to hug when it’s bred off impulse, like a fear embrace when panicking.

And it’s not just a him, or a Mikey thing. The brothers all have this impulse to huddle together or grab one another from time to time.

Unfortunately for the toxic side of the fandom, the next person who shares the most hugs with him would actually be Splinter.

Sure, it mainly consists of his sons hugging him, but he’s not a very huggy person. And a hug isn’t defined by who initiates. A hug is defined by the fact that both people willingly participate in a show of affection. Splinter may not always initiate, but he always accepts.

In case there’s even a sliver of conviction that I’m merely being biased. Nah, man. My statements are built upon TRUTHS.

Look at all of these. Rat man loves his kids. ��

I was only able to find a few hug moments between him and his older brothers. They’re usually group hug moments-

But there are also those two. One initiated by his older brothers (who were under the impression that it was what their little brother wanted in their dying moments AH 🥺) and the other was purely his doing.

He doesn’t really share too many hugs from his older brothers 🤔.

The closes thing that I’ve found is an arm slung around his shoulder, but even those fluffy moments are pretty sparse.

(Discussion over the lack of hugs is OVER HERE.)

We must also discuss the Fugitoid hugs. There’s only one shown, but I think Donnie appreciated it. That robo man was a great mentor, but I’m pretty sure he forgot he’s made of metal and Donnie has lungs.

Dude doesn’t know his own strength.

There’s also… This.

But, uhm. We don’t talk about this.

[scythesms]

The sound of innocent bickering from the two youngest Ambroise children echoed throughout the overgrown yard, amusing the attentive ears of Edmund, who maintained a watchful eye over the playful children. Cecily sat beside her father and observed him in thoughtful silence with a gaze both curious and contemplative. 

Though she’d never been one to shy away from expression, Cecily often found her thoughts speaking louder than her words. She possessed a meticulous nature, in which she preferred carefully weaving her words into coherent thoughts before they were vocalized—a trait notably distinct from her unrestrained siblings. Eugene, driven by an impulsive desire to articulate every mean thought, seemed driven by a need to release his critical opinions from his mind as swiftly as they entered. Josiah, on the other hand, remained indifferent to how others perceived him, prioritizing his own understanding above all else—an attribute that irked those around him, particularly his reluctance to repeat or rephrase. Once spoken, his words stood no chance of being altered or corrected—something Elaine had picked up on. “Think before you speak, Elaine,” Cecily said at least twice a day in response to improper sentences like, “When I’m old, I’ll do a bakery and plant pies” and unreasonable questions that follow such as, “Why can’t I plant pies?”.

Similar to improper conversational etiquette, Cecily held a very low tolerance for stuttering and mumbling. It was like chalk grating a pristine slate to her ears. At her young age, she knew she preferred momentary silence in thought as opposed to stutters from faltering lips and vacant minds. And so she sat, dedicating time to piece her thoughts and curiosities together into a narrative that reflected her intentions precisely.

“Father,” she began, “may I ask you something?”

Edmund, attuned to the gravity of her tone, turned his complete attention to his daughter. Carefully, he said, “You can ask me anything.”

"I was thinking about your lady friend," she confessed. "How did you come to know her?"

Though he had anticipated this very question—wondering which one of his eldest children would broach the subject first—he resented it just as much. There’d been a time early on in his reconnection with Imogene where he had considered sitting his children down, offering them insight into her presence in his life, and disclosing his entire history with her. Yet, he had balked at the notion, second guessing the necessity of such a conversation. If she were merely a friend and there were no further intentions, then perhaps there was no need for an "explanation"... or so he had attempted to convince himself.

“I knew her when I was a young boy… just before meeting your mother. Imogene was… a part of my past.” 

He chose his words carefully. Cecily appreciated that, but it wasn’t enough. She pressed, “Did you love her? Imogene?”

Edmund’s shoulders sagged as he released a sigh before admitting honestly, “Yes, I did.”

He always thought discussing his past with Imogene to his children would stump him, and he’d be a sputtering lying fool. Yet, in that moment, he felt no such indulgence. The admission flowed with an unexpected ease—almost relieving.

A thoughtful pause lingered between them before Cecily ventured further, her voice barely above a whisper, "Did you love her more than my mother?"

He stared ahead. “No.” His response was swift and concrete. “Rosalyn—your mother… holds a place in my heart no one can surpass.”

Cecily was relentless. “Do you still love Imogene?”

“No.” It sounded so simple. 

“Could you love her again?”

He returned his attention to his daughter—her wide eyes void of resentment or detest. “Cecily–”

“I don’t think Mother would be upset with you for loving her again. She would want you to be happy.”

Exhaling softly, Edmund carefully watched Cecily—a reflection of her mother in both demeanor and insight. “I am happy,” he expressed while looking at her side profile, her gaze now fixed ahead. “I’m happy. You four make me happy.”

She shrugged. “You could be happier.”

Cecily had no intention of shoving her father into the arms of any woman, but she wasn’t blind. She’d observed their interactions keenly—a bit foolish if she were to admit. She simply couldn’t imagine someone making her stutter and blush the way her father and Imogene did when in each other's presence. She knew she needed to make it clear to her father that if he decided not to pursue a relationship with the woman, it’d be his sole decision and not one influenced by herself and her siblings… (Addressing Eugene's bitterness would be a concern for another time, should it arise).

While she lacked deep perception of her mother, her memories painted a portrait of a woman akin to an angel. Cecily couldn’t imagine her mother being resentful of her father for seeking love after years spent in mourning.

Edmund, who prided himself on believing he possessed a more intimate understanding of Rosalyn than perhaps anyone else in the world, acknowledged that his daughter's insights held truth in more ways than one.

previous ➺ next

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Dear John

Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences.

Genre: Angst

CW: Intimidation, angst, pureblood's ideology, toxic family dynamics

Word count: 1.6K

This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' version) collection.

“Maybe it's you and your sick need. To give love then take it away

And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand

And I'll look back and regret I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can"

You wished you had listened. The argument you had with Sirius when he learned you were dating his brother was being replayed in your head while you ran towards your boyfriend’s room. 

“He’s going to ruin you, you don’t know him like I do.” Sirius had said, voice low with anger and worry. “The moment my mother hears about you two it’s over.” 

“You’re the one that doesn’t know him!” It had angered you, Sirius assuming that Regulus’ love for you was fragile. “I really love him, and he loves me. End of discussion.” 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into. My brother would never prioritize you over our mother. and she’s never going to accept a Gryffinfor Muggleborn as a suitable partner for Regulus” 

You knew he was right, but some part of you naively thought that Regulus truly loved you.

“I’m saying this because I care about you. You should leave while you can” you could tell Sirius was worried and meant no harm, but that argument ended your friendship with the oldest Black brother. 

That was almost a year ago, you used to have a close friendship with him, but now he wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You refused to break up with Regulus, and you really thought you were doing the right thing. Regulus had shown you every part of him, you knew about his family and all the things he had done and regretted. But you also knew about the caring, loving and kind person he was. 

Even when the war was starting to become more and more imminent as the dark lord and deatheaters won power and followers, he never showed any interest in joining into the dark lord’s lines. The abuse and intimidation became worse and worse for mugglerborns who had the bad luck of running into slytherings in the hallways. 

Regulus was very aware of it, he became like your shadow, never leaving your side until curfew forced him to. And he was the first to greet you every morning, waiting for you outside your house’s common room. 

At least it was like this before Christmas break. It had been a week since you come back from the break and Regulus was acting weird, at first you thought it was because he had to adapt again to Hogwarts - It took him some time to come back to his normal self ater staying in his house - but after a week of almost no contact with him you became worried. 

On your way to the dungeons you ran into Snape and Evan. You had tried to avoid them, head low and pace hurried, but it seemed like they had a special radar to spot possible victims for their tortures and mocking. They blocked your path, you were cornered against a wall as they got closer than it was safe. 

“Look who is here” Evan had teased you, his wand pointing at your face. “Regulus’ little pet”

“Why are you separated from your guardian dog?” Snape taunted you. “Has he finally realized that he’s got more important things to do rather than take care of a filthy mudblood?” 

You didn’t like a bit where the situation was going, you had tried to reach your wand, but Snape had noticed and raised his wand at you. 

“Don’t even think about it” 

“You know, Snape? I’m curious.” He hadn’t stopped looking at you. “What are you doing here, there’s no way you’re going to see Regulus right?”  

He knew exactly that it was the only reason you would ever step into the dungeons. His face turned into a look of fake pity. 

“Oh. Poor little thing, he hasn’t told you has he?” Evan was mocking you, playing with your psyche as all slytherings liked to, still his next words made your blood run cold. “He’s become the new right-hand for the dark lord. As he ought to, at the end of the day he’s a Black.” 

That’s when you started running, Snape and Evan probably tought it was enough torture to mess with your head and they let you pass them by without much hussle. 

And you ran all the way to the Slythering common room. Usually you wouldn’t dare to enter alone, but you needed to see Regulus. You didn’t want to believe Evan’s words, ‘He’s probably trying to confuse you, make you confront Regulus and cause an argument’. You were trying to convince yourself, but you couldn’t deny that the possibility was there. 

You made it to Regulus’ dorm, without even knocking you entered. Inside Regulus was laying in his bed, Barty was in one of the desks, working on homework, or a plan to destroy civilization. You didnt really care, all you could focus on was Reg. 

“Regulus” your voice didn’t feel like yourself, it was void of any emotion other than obvious tiredness from your running. 

Regulus jolted out of bed when he heard you. Barty turned around and his lips morphed into a teasing smirk. 

“Oh well, look who’s here -” “Leave, now.” Barty was cut short by Regulus’ demand, for a second you thought he was talking to you, but he was facing Barty. 

“okay, okay. No need to get aggressive…” Barty said before getting up from the chair. He walked past you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, and closed the door behind him. 

───✥───

Regulus knew this was coming, there was no way you wouldn’t notice his absence or avoid entirely the rumors of the new deatheater in Hogwarts. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way. He coudn’t face you, from the start you and him were on opposite sides of the war, but he getting the mark was what made it definite. 

“Reg-” “What do you want?”

 Regulus’ voice was icy, not a single emotion in it. He saw you flinch at his tone. He never talked to you like that, his tone was always sweet and words picked with care whenever he referred to you. His change in demeanour angered and saddened you, he could tell. 

“Are you really asking me what I want?” your tone was colder now, you stepped closer with each word. “I’ve barely seen you for a week, and the moment I step into the dungeons the first thing I hear is that you’re the new right-hand for the dark lord. Please, tell me it’s not true”  

He could hear your voice crack and your waterline become wet with unsed tears. He knew you so well, he knew you were not going to cry, he knew you would give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. He knew that if he would tell you the truth, how he was forced and tortured to take the mark, you would understand, try to find a way to help and stand by his side. 

“It’s true” 

And he couldn’t allow that. If he were to let you in again, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to do. End things, for your sake. 

“You’re lying to me, this is all a big joke, it has to be” you cried. 

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. At his silence you reached for his sleeve, pulling it up. He didn’t even flinch, and he let you stare at his bare arm. Well, not bare, as the deatheater mark was there, taking up half of his arm. 

You dropped his arm and stared at him in absolute shock. He didn’t say anything, that was angered the most, how he was not even able to say anything. 

“You didn’t want to, right?” he stayed silent “Please, say something” you implored. 

“It's my duty, it’s what 's right.” he deadpanned. 

You chuckled humorlessly “What’s right? That 's right? You’re joining a pureblood supremacist cult, there’s nothing right about it!”  

“And what about us, do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean anything at all to you?”  you said in a softer tone. 

“No. It was a mistake, from the start. I shouldn’t have dated a mudblood” Regulus had to make an enormous effort to not flinch at his own words. But this would make you leave, it had to. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but the heartbreak you were feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt. Regulus had been able to make you feel special, loved for almost two years. He held your heart in his hands and treated it with care, now he was ripping it and giving back to you. 

He didn’t want to fight for your love and you were not going to beg anymore. 

“You’re right. It’s funny, really, Sirius warned me this would happen, but I was too blinded to see that he was right” bringing up Sirius was a low blow, you knew how much he meant for Regulus. But at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel the same heartbreak you were feeling. 

“At the end of the day you’re a Black.” You repeated the same words Evan had said to you on your way to the dungeons. 

Regulus just stood there and nodded. You left his room, clearly distressed and crying. Regulus’ heart was shattered beyond repair. However, this was the best option. He would rather see you leaving, crying and heartbroken for the last time in his life, than lying on the floor lifeslessly as his family had promised if he didn’t leave you and took the mark. 

At the end of the day he was really just a Black, it was the family he was born to and the family he’ll die for. 

Author's note: this one is so sad, I'm sorry Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

[goodlucktai]

sabo luffy prompt if your still accepting them:

Luffy about Ace's death: it should have been me.

Sabo wide eyed and scared cups Luffys face: never ever say that. Don't even think it.

x

It lingers in the back of Sabo’s mind, in the furthest, darkest corners, as persistent and sticky as a spiderweb. 

Luffy is his crybaby little brother, always will be. Sabo wasn’t there to watch him grow up, grow out of childish old habits, so the sight of that precious face crumpling and flooding with tears was familiar—expected, even. There in the underbelly of the colosseum, Sabo’s body remembered what his useless brain had forgotten, pure muscle memory guiding his hands up to catch the human cannonball without missing a beat. The act of it was tried and true, even now. Of course Luffy would fly into his arms, would cling to him and cry. Sabo’s job was to be bigger and stronger and hold him up for however long it took him to feel brave again. 

He might have been afraid to approach Luffy at first, but it was a stupid thing to be afraid of. Anyone else might have had good reason to be petrified of meeting their only remaining family—of facing the condemnation or betrayal or hatred for not being there when they were needed most, for only showing their face now when it hardly mattered. It would be a scary thing, reaching out the thing you had thought lost, knowing that to reach out would mean to lose it for real, but to stay away forever would be unthinkable.

But holding Luffy, looking at him, Sabo’s brain remembered how little he had to fear from this person. His heart opened up, like a flower unfolding for the sun, because it was safe to open and be gentle here. Luffy would never think to blame him or hate him, not for Ace. Not for anything. 

No, instead he would clutch at Sabo’s jacket with shaking hands, ruined chest heaving, and apologize. 

“I was right there,” he sobbed. “He died right in front of me and I couldn’t save him.”

At the time, Sabo smiled, and said, “I’m grateful you’re alive,” and let Luffy cry himself out. He helped Luffy out of his silly competitor costume and rubbed at his sticky face with the hem of his own jacket until the smaller boy was laughing and wrestling to get away. Luffy’s friends were waiting for him, and he had a job to do, so they parted ways not long after meeting again. 

Responsibility was an odd look on Sabo’s little brother, who used to find trouble in every single nook and corner of the mountain they grew up on like it was his job, but not a bad one. And when he ran off, shouting, “I’ll see you soon, Sabo! I swear!” Sabo knew he could pile oceans and mountains and decades on top of that promise and it would never break. 

Entering the colosseum, Sabo’s mind was focused forward—Ace’s fruit was waiting, Luffy was counting on him, Dressrosa was about to become a warzone. He was very good at compartmentalizing, at doing what needed to be done, his mind, as Koala affectionately put it once, like an unforgiving steel trap.  

But it lingered, that spiderweb thought; invisible except for when the light was just right, when the angle was perfect, when Sabo’s mind was clear and he had a moment to himself to breathe and noticed it cluttering up the corner. 

Luffy apologized. 

The chance to discuss it came eventually, when Sabo found himself at the end of an intel-gathering mission with news of the Straw Hats in the waters nearby. He cleared it with Dragon, endured Koala’s smug face when he let her know to go on without him, then backtracked to catch up to the ostentatious brigantine that was already famous in the New World. 

Luffy’s crewmates are a friendly sort, and the Thousand Sunny as a whole is happy to have him aboard. Franky waves him ahead and jumps down onto his vessel to secure it himself, and Chopper and Carrot and Usopp all call out to Sabo cheerfully, more curious about him than anything. He returns greetings as he makes his way across the busy deck, something in his chest easing like a sigh of relief to know that this bright, beautiful place full of bright, beautiful people is his little brother’s home. 

Zoro nods at him once, all the energy he has to spare for someone who isn’t one of his own, then tilts his head toward what must be the galley door. 

“Surprise, surprise,” Sabo laughs, and makes his way to the kitchen. 

It smells amazing, something rich and spicy wafting from the simmering pans on the stove. Luffy is sitting at the huge, scarred table, gnawing on a piece of dried meat and talking with his mouth full, while his skeleton musician strums something unobtrusive and cheerful on an acoustic guitar. Sanji is working diligently on what Sabo can only assume is dinner prep. The dangerous Trafalgar Law sits across the table from Luffy, with a book open in front of him that he appears to have largely given up on. He’s watching his fellow Supernova with dark, clinical eyes, but there’s much more warmth in them than Trafalgar is probably aware of. 

Those eyes flick past Luffy as the door opens. When he sees Sabo, Trafalgar stands, picks up his book and his mug, says, “There’s no way I’m dealing with two of you,” and leaves through the other door. 

“Fair enough,” Sanji says, which is rude, but not unfounded. 

Luffy swallows his mouthful, turns in his seat, and then lights up like the dawn.

“SABO!” he shrieks, leaping over the back of his chair like one of the monkeys he grew up with back on Mt. Colubo, instead of getting up and going around it like a person. 

Sabo is already laughing by the time he catches the armful of little brother, squeezing Luffy tight for a moment before playfully ruffling his hair and tussling with him. Brook the skeleton tips his massive tophat and leaves them to it, but Sanji clearly can’t abandon his multiple stations, even just for a few minutes. That’s all right. An audience of one is more than he could have hoped for with all the bodies currently on his brother’s ship, between his own people and the visiting allies. 

“How have you been, Lu? Staying out of trouble?”

“For now!” Luffy says happily. “I bet our next adventure will be fun, though!” 

His body is battered and bandaged, but he looks a lot better than the last time Sabo saw him, in that little hidden-away cottage in Dressrosa, the night after he and his crew won peace for a people they barely knew. He’s already looking forward to the next adventure. 

Whatever Sabo did to deserve him in a past life, he’s grateful. 

He gives Luffy a push back towards the table, and draws a stool up next to his. The dining hall is cozy, and a cup of something steaming and fragrant appears in front of him the second he sits down. Sanji only hums when Sabo calls his thanks, already halfway back to the kitchen proper. It’s either the worst place to start a potentially difficult conversation, or the best one. 

“I’m here for a few days,” Sabo says, “if you can spare the room.”

“Of course!” Luffy declares. “Always room for Sabo! Sanji?”

“Your new friends left us pretty well-stocked,” the cook says without looking up from something complicated he’s doing with a knife and a fish the size of a small horse. “We could probably feed an army for a few weeks if we wanted to.”

Luffy looks up at Sabo with a glowing smile, as if to say ‘see?’ and Sabo reaches over to shove his hat down over his eyes. 

“Thanks, Lulu.”

He’s glad he remembered the nickname, because just like when they were kids, Luffy is immediately outraged. 

“DON’T CALL ME—” 

“I did want to tell you something kind of important,” Sabo cuts in smoothly, grinning inwardly at Luffy’s flustered, frustrated face. “I’d rather say it now and get it out of the way then hang onto it for my whole visit. And after I’ve said it, if you’d rather I didn’t stay anymore, that’s okay, too. Your ship, your rules.”

Luffy’s expression clears to one of confusion. The sound of Sanji’s knife has slowed. 

“Okay,” Luffy says. “What does Sabo want to tell me?”

Sabo has practiced this half a dozen times on the way here, but it’s still very difficult to start. 

“When we met, back at the colosseum,” he says, “I was so sure you would be angry. I thought you’d hit me, at least. I deserved that much, right?”

Luffy’s brow furrows. “Why would I hit you?”

Taking a steadying breath, Sabo says, “Because I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. Because I only showed up two years later when it suited me, when I would get Ace’s fruit out of it. Because I let Ace—”

“You didn’t,” Luffy says loudly. “You didn’t let anything.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Sabo replies, wrestling with his voice to keep it even. “I didn’t help you.”

He watched the transponder recording a hundred times. He relives it every time he closes his eyes. The gaping hole in Ace’s chest, the blood on Luffy’s hands, his childish, frightened plea of Ace’s name, the wounded animal sound of pain and grief he made right up until his mind took mercy and shut his body down. 

A nightmare. An actual documented living nightmare. 

And Sabo wasn’t there, because the two of them were strangers to him, and he had more important things to do than wonder about the execution of Gol D. Roger’s son. 

He should have flown to Luffy the second those memories flooded in. He should have turned heaven and earth upside down to find him. Instead he chose to be a coward. 

Robin was kind, more so than he deserved, and the two of them spent dozens of late nights in Baltigo trading stories about that same wild, relentless little person who owned the most real estate in both of their hearts. She filled the black hole inside him with better stories than the one in the papers, sun-filled stories, about triumphs and hijinks and heartaches and unconquerable love. She showed him the newsprint photo that he’d already looked at no less than a million times, of her beloved captain paying his respects to the fallen at Marineford, only this time she pointed out the message on his arm. 

“I want to run to him right now,” she said. “I want to break everything and everyone in my way and not stop until I’m beside him again. But he wants me to wait. He isn’t ready yet.”

Sabo stared at the photo, mindlessly rubbing his finger over the 3D2Y he hadn’t understood until someone who actually knew his brother explained it to him. Robin let him have a moment, her eyes knowing and grave and full of a sympathy he didn’t think he deserved. 

“It’s okay not to be ready,” she said. “Just don’t make him wait too long.”

Now, Sabo says, “I want you to know that you can be angry. You can yell and scream at me and blame me and that would be—it would be allowed, okay? Even if you just want me to go away, or you don’t want to see me for a little while. It’s all on your terms. Just don’t pretend. Not with me. Okay?”

Luffy’s face is blank and Sabo isn’t sure what to make of it. He dares to reach out and lay a hand on Luffy’s slim shoulder, impossibly small for the weight of the things it carries. 

“Okay, Lu?”

“I’m not pretending,” Luffy says, loud and sudden. “I don’t do that, it’s dumb. I was happy to see Sabo, because I thought he was dead but he was alive and it was a miracle. Robin told me you had ameesia so you forgot all about me and it wasn’t your fault. I dunno about that stuff but if Robin said it, it must be true. It would be scary not to remember important things. I bet it hurt a lot when you finally remembered and it was already too late. I bet it was really lonely. I would never hate Sabo or hit him or blame him for that.”

Sabo’s next breath shudders, and the one after that, and he has to bite the inside of his lip hard. When he’s certain he won’t fall apart, he says, “Robin only told you that afterwards. You didn’t know I had amnesia when you first saw me.”

“You’re my Sabo,” Luffy stresses, like Sabo is being particularly dense for no good reason. “I’ll always be happy to see you first.” 

It’s one of those Luffy-isms, Sabo thinks, leaning forward to put his face in his hands. One of those unexplainable, unquantifiable things that so many people hang their faith on. It would make sense for Luffy to be angry, because grief is heavy and horrible and doesn’t disappear into a fine mist just because something good happens. But there are so many things better than anger for him to hold onto instead. He’s surrounded by better things. 

A plate is set down somewhere in front of him and he lifts his head. Sanji lingers after the delivery this time, slouching into a chair and pushing the platter of lemon curd cookies and fresh-from-the-oven turnovers to the brothers’ side of the table. 

Luffy beams and picks up a turnover, but he doesn’t eat it right away. He turns it over in his hands a few times, warm against his fingertips, and begins to shred the flaky pastry into pieces. 

Sanji sits up a little straighter in his chair, as if an alarm has gone off in the back of his head. Sabo is right there with him, because he’s never seen Luffy deliberate with food before, not ever. Especially not something home-cooked by someone he loves. 

“If Sabo is angry,” Luffy says slowly, “he can tell me, too.”

“What?” he says faintly. 

Looking at his hands, at the dessert falling apart into a loose pile on his plate, the young captain tells them plainly, “Ace died back then, instead of me. He might have lived if he didn’t save me from the magma man. Everyone was there to rescue him and ended up rescuing me instead. Because I wasn’t strong enough. I’m glad I didn’t die, because I still have my nakama, and we still have promises to keep. But I bet that some people, who fought in that war for Ace, who loved him and didn’t even know me, wish that it had happened differently.” He still doesn’t look up, expression unreadable as he burns the tips of his fingers on the hot rhubarb filling dripping from the mangled turnover, when he adds, “Sabo loves us both, but he loved Ace longer.”

If Sabo had been stabbed with sea stone, it would have hurt less. If he had burned with the Grey Terminal, or drowned at sea in front of the Celestial Dragons, it would have hurt less than this. 

He’s on his feet before he’s aware of moving, seat tipping over and rolling away behind him. His heart is racing, he can feel the steam start to lift off of his superheated skin as Ace’s fire inside him begins to react.

“Don’t say that,” he says, too loud, almost a shout. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think it.”

Luffy finally looks at him. His mouth is set but his eyes are wide, and Sabo may have twelve years to catch up on, may have failed both his brothers at every possible turn up until now, but he still knows what his little brother’s face looks like when he’s seeking reassurance.

How many thunderstorms and bad dreams did they weather together back on Goa? How many times had tiny hands shaken Sabo awake, only for him to look up into these eyes exactly? 

Back then they were both children, so Sabo would make fun of him, or he would groan and roll his eyes, and they would have a hushed argument about it, but ultimately Luffy would fall asleep safe under a shared blanket, the thunder or the nightmare the farthest thing from his mind. Sabo never regretted it, even when Ace laughed at him in the morning. 

The body remembers. He’s reaching automatically, and holding Luffy’s face in his hands. He isn’t afraid of burning him, because Ace’s fire would never burn him. 

“I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” he says. “Not for anything. It doesn’t work that way. If I ever had to choose one or the other, you or him, I’d kill whoever made the rules and choose you both.” Unspoken, forever unsaid, is the knowledge that he and Ace would always put Luffy first, because that’s an older brother’s prerogative. Luffy wouldn’t understand it, so Sabo simply says, “I loved Ace longer, but I don’t love him more.”

Luffy nods, his eyes glassy, the firm line of his mouth beginning to wobble. Sanji snatches the plate and the messy turnover scraps away with a bitten-off sound, stalking back into the kitchen. 

Reeling, feeling somewhat as if he’s backing away from the perilous edge of a five-hundred-foot fall, Sabo releases Luffy only to drag him forward by the shoulders into an embrace instead. Luffy scrambles to his feet to return it properly, wrapping rubbery arms around Sabo that loop a few extra times. Sabo buries his face in the top of Luffy’s head and breathes him in; sea-salt, warm grass, everything touched by sunshine. 

My brother, he thinks, with all the same wonder as the first time he thought it. 

“And if you ever say anything like that ever again,” he goes on, “I’ll fly here from wherever I am in the world and kick your ass.”

“You can try!” Luffy says, leaning back to look up at him. He’s beaming, untouched by everything he’s lived through—still, in part, that same stubborn little kid that Sabo and his best friend first met in the jungle, who decided they were all better off together. “I’m stronger now. I could probably beat you this time!”

“You think so, huh?”

“No fighting in my kitchen, idiots,” Sanji snaps, striding back to the table with a big dessert bowl in hand. “Do I look like I have time to babysit? If you’re gonna wrestle, take it outside.” 

He all but slams the bowl in front of his captain, revealing the deconstructed turnover folded into fresh vanilla ice cream and drizzled with caramel. It’s the most aggressive display of affection Sabo thinks he’s ever seen, and he grew up with Koala. 

“Ooh, thanks Sanji! I would have eaten it the other way, too, but your ice cream is the best!” 

“Of course it is,” the chef says shortly. “Eat it before it melts. In fact, go eat it in front of Zoro, it’ll be funny.”

“Sanji’s weird,” Luffy says, full of good cheer, but he hauls the bowl out the door with him and makes a beeline straight for where he somehow knows his first mate will be. “C’mon, ‘Bo, I want you to meet Sunny!”

He lets Luffy get a head-start out the door, listens to him join the rest of his crew on the deck, their voices rising together gladly. He picks up his chair and rights it, scooting it back into place at the table. He just needs a minute.

“None of us were there, either,” Sanji says abruptly. “We all wish we were. Would’ve given just about anything to be there with him. But by the time we got the news it was too late.” He crosses his arms, leans back against the counter, and says, “You can imagine what a failure that felt like. Leaving our captain out to dry like that.”

“He would never hold that against you,” Sabo says immediately, knowing the truth of it in his blood and bones.  

Sanji nods, looking Sabo in the eye as he agrees, “No, he wouldn’t.”