#easy enough that it was 1 of 10 questions on an assignment we had 2 weeks to complete in probability class

[femme-objet]

Monty Hall problem is also interesting from the angle that it was popularized by Marilyn vos Savant (who supposedly had the world’s highest recorded IQ, whatever that means) in her columns and she suffered a lot of misogynistic “corrections” even from fellow mathematicians, even though she was absolutely right and it’s not that complicated of a problem mathematically

[lunarpeonie]

midnight in the ocean

In which Geto is a sweet pea and tries to help you, but you’re just not a morning person. 

2.2k words, fluff

Mornings were easily your least favorite part of the day. You were a night owl and as such, spent the dark hours of the night searching random questions on Google like Why are clouds white? and scrolling through Tiktok. However, recently your late night plans had been foiled by a certain long haired, gauge wearing sorcerer whose name might rhyme with meadow. Geto had been on a crusade to get you to bed earlier ever since you had slept through three alarms and six phone calls from him the morning of a semi-important (read: very important) mission a week earlier. So what if you had been a little late? A few hours late when a curse had been there for weeks really didn’t make a difference. (Only… it did. You had been assigned the mission with specific directions to attack the curse at sunrise because that had been its weakest point during the day, before it could take cover in a dark crevasse of the abandoned building it was inhabiting. Something about it being manifested by people’s fear of the dark and it being afraid of the rising sun. Instead of an easy fight like you had expected, you had been thrown through a few more walls than you would’ve liked.) 

Ever since, Geto had been trying his hardest to get you to bed early to avoid any other possible incidents. He was being ‘responsible.’ Whatever.

Attempt 1

First, he had taken your phone and hid it deep within the confines of his baggy pants after returning to the dorms from an outing with your classmates.

“Are you serious right now? Give me my phone back, Geto.” He shot you back his tight lipped smile, eyes shaped like crescent moons. 

“Ah, no can do. You need to start a habit of getting to bed earlier. What better way to do that than to rid yourself of your main distraction?” Your jaw dropped. The audacity of this man to act like you were an unruly child in need of parenting. Sure, was it a little irresponsible to keep up your night owl activities when you had to be up early in the morning some days? Yes, you could admit that. But that didn’t mean you needed someone else, someone your own age, to parent you.

“If you think that putting my phone in your pants is going to stop me from getting it, you really must not know me well enough.” You challenged, eyes narrowing so that he knew you meant business. He just continued to smile back at you in a way that was starting to feel a little condescending. 

“Try it.” 

This had ended with you crouching on top of Geto, foot to his neck, and hand fishing down his pants. (Awkward in retrospect, but you were desperate and on a mission to get your phone before your favorite Tiktoker went on live for the night. You only wished that Gojo hadn’t been walking by at the same time. He now had a plethora of pictures from what he deemed “the indecent incident” and was determined to remind you of it every chance he got.) 

Attempt 2

The next thing Geto tried was another tactic that made you feel like an unruly 5 year old. A knock on your dorm door had you pausing the DIY rug making video you had been watching and rolling your desk chair over to answer it. Standing on the other side of it was Geto wearing his signature smile once again. He was clad in his silky black pajamas and had his eye mask sitting on top of his head. 

“Can I help you with something?” You rolled your eyes, knowing that him showing up at your door at 11PM meant he was trying to prove a point. 

“Yes, you can.” He said cheerily. Much too cheerily for past 10. This was ‘me’ time that he was interrupting. “You can try these.” He held up a purple jar with Z’s plastered on the label. “Maybe then you can get to bed at a reasonable hour. You do know that we are supposed to be on the road to exorcize that cursed spirit at the elementary school by 8AM tomorrow?” You stuck out your hand to grab the jar and leaned your head closer to the label to see exactly what he meant by these. 

For a healthy sleep cycle. SLEEP! No next day grogginess! 

“Are these…” You started, “Melatonin gummies?” He happily nodded his head, his inky bangs swaying back and forth as he did so. You could feel your blood pressure rising with irritation that he had interrupted your ‘me’ time for something so stupid. You still had 20 minutes left on your rug making video and there could be dire consequences if you didn’t finish it. Didn’t he understand that? So, out of frustration, you aimed for the biggest target (his head) and threw. 

You were late again the next morning. 

Attempt 3

It was a few days later when sitting at a bench along the many walkways around the school, ready to chow down on your lunch of leftover pepperoni pizza, Geto plopped down on the bench beside and laid a white, half moon shaped contraption between you. 

“Uh, what is that thing?” You asked with a mouthful of pizza, closing the latest edition of a teen gossip magazine that you had been lazily flipping through. 

“A sound machine, it makes a variety of sounds and the reviews say that it helps put babies to sleep.” You could already feel a vein throbbing on your forehead at the thought of Geto treating you like a kid once again. He began pressing buttons on the machine to show you just how many it made. After shuffling through fan noises, whale noises, and copious static noises, you placed your hand on top of his as a signal to stop. 

Closing your eyes, the words began to roll out before you could stop them, “Look, it’s not that I’m against going to bed early and going on a normal sleep routine. I go to bed late because I have a hard time sleeping by myself. At home, I always had someone around. I shared a room with my sister, so I never had to sleep alone. I just… don’t feel safe when I sleep alone.” You sighed, feeling embarrassed to admit the real reason behind your wacky sleep schedule. 

Geto’s signature smile lit up his face. “Why didn’t you just tell me that? We could’ve had this solved so much sooner!”

“Yeah, how?” You asked, confused and eyebrow raised. 

“I’ll just sleep in your room from now on.” Time screeched to a halt. Birds stopped chirping. Wind stopped flowing. Did… you hear him correctly? 

“Do you know how seriously indecent it is for you to propose something like that?!? What kind of girl do you take me for??” You rolled up the magazine you had been flicking through and began hitting that tall pervert with it like he deserved.

“Ah no! You misunderstand. I only mean to help, nothing indecent! I’ll sleep on the floor. Just so that I’m in the room and it’ll be enough for you to comfortably fall asleep.” 

You paused in your magazine assault and contemplated this offer. You did love having the extra time to browse the internet, but you were always sluggish in the morning and didn’t recover until late afternoon. As much as you tried to hide it, it was really starting to drag you down.

Hesitantly you replied, “Okay… we’ll try it. But no funny business, I’m serious! One weird look and you’re getting kicked out.” You waved the curled magazine around in the air to emphasize your point. 

•

That night, right as the clock struck 9:30, you heard a steady knock, knock, knock on your door. Opening the door, a pajama-clad Geto Suguru leaned into your doorway, pillow and blanket in hand. “Are you ready for our sleepover?” 

You blinked twice and tried to remind (read: convince) yourself that this was a good idea. As long as no one (Gojo) found out. 

“Come in,” you said with an arm extended to the small space. “You can set your stuff up right here. I moved my rug to the corner so that you had some space.” You pointed to the cherry print rug wadded up in a haphazard ball. Rug making had not exactly worked out well for you, so that may as well be its home forever. You sat on the edge of your bed, nails digging into the soft down bedding, as Geto arranged his things on the floor. You were nervous. You’d never had a guy sleep over before, even if this wasn’t like that. 

Geto had placed his striped blanket directly on the floor and his pillow in the opposite direction of where yours laid on your bed. “Are you sure you’re going to be comfortable sleeping on the floor? I feel kind of bad… since you’re the one doing me a favor.” 

“I’ll be fine. As long as this helps you, I’m happy.” There was that smile again. You would never admit it out loud, but his smile felt like warm rays of sunshine and you were thawing from the cold. He truly was a kind soul. What kind of person sacrifices their own comfort just to make sure that their classmate can get a good night’s rest? A generous one. 

Biting down on your bottom lip, maybe it was your nerves talking, but you couldn’t help but offer, “Do you want to sleep on the bed? I feel really bad about you sleeping on the floor. I could make an indestructible pillow wall to separate us.” You fidgeted with a string on your plaid pajama bottoms, unable to look him in the eye while you offered and awaited his answer. 

“Sure, I’ll even help you build the wall. I need to make sure you don’t cut corners and damage the structural integrity of it.” He winked. You felt a quick flutter in your stomach, gone almost as fast as it had come. Together, you worked quickly to arrange the pillows into double layered stacks neatly down the middle of the bed, with the occasional break to hit each other with them. Designating the wall side to Geto, you watched as he climbed over the pillow wall to lay down. You gulped, feeling your pulse quicken. Are we really about to do this? 

Geto extended a long arm and patted your side of the bed. “No sense in wasting more time. If we don’t get to bed now, we’ll continue your bad habit.” 

Wrapping your blanket tightly around your shoulders, you nodded your head and flicked off the corner lamp. Moonlight continued to flood in through the windows on the other side of the room. Your feet made a light pitter patter as you took a few small steps to get to the bed, now with considerably less space due to the large man laying in it. Geto slid his finger through the black elastic holding his hair in a bun and flicked it to the floor. His hair fell down past his shoulders in dark waves like the ocean at midnight. He was beautiful. This wasn’t calming your nerves one bit. Still, gaining your courage, you gently laid next to your artfully built wall of fluff and turned your head up to the man occupying your bed. 

“Thank you for doing this. It was really kind of you.” A pink blush began to fill the apples of your cheeks and you could only hope that it was hidden by the darkness in the room. Geto didn’t say anything, instead opting to pat your head with his large hand, fingers dipping into your hair. Closing your eyes, you felt more comfort than you had ever felt, even at home. You knew, with one half of the strongest duo laying next to you, there wasn’t a safer place in the world than where you were at this moment. 

As sleep began to take its hold, you almost caught a whispered voice replying, “For you? Anything.”

Sometime during the night, the pillow wall had scattered across the bed and a strong, muscled arm made its way around your stomach. The both of you chose not to mention it in the morning. 

•

It had been a month since you started this charade and you had never felt better. Who knew a full night’s sleep (conveniently with your own personal very attractive furnace) could make you feel so great? With a sigh, you turned over to face the formidable pillow wall between you and Geto, only to find him peering over it already awake. You giggled, butterflies fluttering through your stomach. That had been happening more often around Geto recently. His gentle manner and the way he took care of you had caused feelings to blossom deep down in your chest. 

“You know,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve never been a morning person, but then I started waking up to your face and… Maybe mornings aren’t that bad, after all.” 

You never had a problem getting to sleep early again. Geto made sure of that. 

fin.

Inspired by a prompt from @dumplingsjinson on Tumblr! Cross posted to ao3.

I demand more Geto fluff!!!! I can fix him, I swear! I had a blast writing this (even though it was at 1AM…). The writing bug caught me and I couldn’t stop until I was done. 

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Remember a Time ix

Series:  (Pt.1), (P.t 2), (P.t 3), (P.t 4), (P.t 5), (P.t 6), (P.t 7)

Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader ;)

(High school Au ) No Powers

Word count: 2218

A/N: Here is another installment I hope you guys like it. I’m slowly getting back into writing. I’ll see you next time hopefully with an update for Misunderstanding the Assignment! 

“What do you see when you look at me?” It was a simple yet loaded question. There was so much to see… Wanda had always been more than what the eye could see. There was too much context lost trying to explain it all in words. The good, the bad. The white, the black, the gray. You couldn’t look at her… that's why she asked. You settled for a simple answer. “Everything.” Time has passed and put your promise to the test. You showed up, but neither of you were the same. Maybe too much time had passed, but life as cruel as it was found a way to bring you both back into each other's life. “You’ve always known me better than everyone, even myself.” She was stating a fact that you weren’t sure was true anymore. “Stop looking away…” You couldn’t look at her because if you did start looking at her you weren’t sure you could stop. But she was Wanda… It wasn’t long before your eyes met hers. The first time in 10 years you let yourself fall into Her green eyes.

Wanda had this time obliged your request and from there on time started flying by. Prom came and soon enough you were sitting next to Natasha, her head on your shoulder. “This has been a very fun night.” You nodded. You didn't expect prom to go the way that it did. You'd envisioned things a little differently. But you couldn't complain Natasha was next to you all night and dancing with her was amazing. Wanda was there but she made herself scarce, You were thankful. You saw very little of her that night. Natasha knew that something had happened between the two of you, you didn’t tell her anything. Weirdly enough it didn’t feel right telling her. Natasha was swaying and tripping on herself so you took her to sit at a table. “I think you had enough of that punch” you chuckled. You saw Tony then Pietro spike the punch. “How about I take you home…” She was contemplating your offer. “Did she change your mind?” It wasn’t a reproach, just a question asked in a drunken stupor. “No…” There was no need to lie if anything what had happened steeled your resolve. “Then yes, you may take me home.” As easy-going that answer was, you saw that relief flood her body. You hated that you made her feel like that but all you could do was reassure her. You didn’t speak after that, you just made your way back home in silence. Natasha was out and in bed before you could even say goodbye. 

Yelena caught you on your way out. Well more so she was waiting for you cornering you if you will. “I may hate Natasha with every fiber of my being, but she is my sister.” She started not leaving any room for you to interrupt her. “Do you see what I’m getting at?” You nodded. “If you ever treat her wrong Y/n I will have no qualms in committing murder.” You were scared more so because she was being completely honest. “I like you Y/n, so I’m asking you not to mess up here.” You nodded. “I promise you to do good by Natasha.” She seemed pleased with your answer and started retreating. “And Yelena… I like you too.” She didn’t bother looking back. “Yeah of course you do what's not to like.” You chuckled and made your way back to your house. Tony was waiting for you sitting on your front door steps. “Can you believe that We made it?” You immediately recognized this not often seen side of Tony. You sit down next to him and lay your head on his shoulder. You sigh and interlock your arm around his.

“If I'm being completely honest, no I can’t.” He nods. “How’d we even get here?” You noticed the far away look in his eyes. He sighed and spoke his thoughts “It feels like a dream.” It was your turn to nod, there was no other way to explain what you were feeling. “I didn’t think we’d make it past fifth grade…” He was referring to your friendship. Tony was never a loner he always had friends, but fifth grade was a difficult year for him consequently for you too. “You were such a dick.” You conceded “You were forgetting about me…” He confessed quietly. You pulled away and saw the tears brimming his eyes. “That’s not even remotely true.” You assure him. “But, you were. I didn’t like how that felt so I made sure you didn’t.” You let him keep talking. “Wanda became so Important… And I want you to move on and be happy I do, but you leaving feels a lot like that.” You took a moment and turned to him. “I cannot physically forget you, you are my best friend. My brother from another mother.” He chuckled. “I promise that I will never forget you. And if you at any point feel that I am, please feel free to be a dick to me whenever you’d like.” He laughed this time. “We’ve come too far Tony, you and me for that to just go away.” You both sat there looking at the sky for a moment. “It will all workout.” You sighed and stood up. “Come on, I bought another lego set a couple of days ago. It should be in the garage.” 

Everything was starting to move faster and faster leading up to graduation. It was getting out of hand but before you knew it you were in line waiting to walk across the stage. You were all sitting on the edge of your seat. You almost rolled your eyes when the principal announced the valedictorian speaker. Vision… His speech was formidable, and you found yourself genuinely clapping for him at the end of it. After that it moved rather quickly name after name being called, and loud cheering from the audience. It all felt unreal, it would officially all be over in the matter of minutes. You saw them all walk that stage. First was Pietro; he brought laughs and cheers from all over the auditorium, his backflip being the reason. Then consequently came Wanda, she looked happy, her eyes scanned the audience and her eyes met yours. Her eyes watered, but they stayed on you. You gave a small nod and a tight smile and that was that. A couple of minutes later Natasha was walking down the stage and you could not look away, you didn’t want to. Her eyes found yours immediately she smiled and waved at you. Then came Tony who had nonchalantly avoided shaking hands with anyone on the stage just taking his diploma and walking off stage. 

As for you, you just took it all in. Took your diploma and smiled when your picture was taken. Then you saw Natasha and suddenly it wasn’t so overwhelming. It was something that you were truly looking forward to. It would be you and her for the time being starting this new chapter. If you were sure about anything it was that it would be worth it. The ceremony let out and you met with all of your family and your friends which at this point was only Tony and Natasha. Taking pictures to commemorate the day. You left with Natasha by your side. "You know that I never thought we'd get another chance to be friends." Natasha sighed. "I knew even back then that I'd most likely never see you in person again." You nodded listening to her talk. She had insisted on driving you somewhere special to show you a surprise. "Moving to Russia is not something a friendship usually survives. Especially not a childhood one." You nodded listening and hanging on to every last word. "I was scared..." She admitted softly. "That one day you'd stop caring for me, that you'd stop calling." You kept quiet knowing you didn't need to say anything. Listening would be enough. "And for the longest time it bothered me to no end." 

"And then, it was me who stopped calling." You nodded remembering the first month that she skipped all your weekly calls. It still stung, you'd had a crush on her already. "You saw through it Nat, It would've only crashed and burned." You tried to soothe her. She shook her head. "Where would we be if i didn't do that... And, you... You still called on my Birthday. Even when I stopped calling on yours." You'd made it to a small orchid with beautiful trees. You parked on the side of the door.. She rushed and helped you out of her car, she held your hand and didn't let go. "Before I left mom brought me here. Thinking back she was probably very much aware..." She looked thoughtful but didn't elaborate. You accepted her silence, not really reading into it, your mind too enthralled with the fact that she was holding your hand. It was a beautiful day, you still had time to kill before all the graduation parties began.  "I think it's here..." She mumbled. You were curious to find out what it was. 

Her hand squeezed yours when she saw what she was looking for. "Look." she ran her free hand along a tree her finger tracing the grooves. It was engraved. 'Nat + Y/n 4 ever' A nice heart encircled the two names. Natasha chuckles her mother definitely knew. "This... Wow." You were speechless. "When?" You managed to ask. "The week I found out we were leaving. It seemed fitting to do then." She smiled looking back at you. Your smile grew. "I'm only hoping it seems fitting now?" She asked suddenly, feeling self conscious. "We were totally in love with each other back then weren't we?" You say chuckling. She nods, but she doesn't say anything else, still waiting for you to answer. "I think this is very much fitting for us." She smiles lightly, biting her lip. "You think so?" You match her smile. "Yup" She moves quickly. Her hands grab your face as she pulls you towards her. When her lips meet yours it feels like the world stopped spinning, like the universe had been waiting for this to happen and it sighed in relief when it finally did. You didn't want to pull away. "You're telling me our parents knew we were gay?" She laughed in your arms. 

It was a beautiful day worthy of this moment. She was ethereal the way her eyes lit up just captured your attention, there was no other place you'd rather be. "I was crushing on you for the longest time." You confessed. "Really? You never said anything." She wasn't exactly shocked by your revelation, but she was curious. "Well, I wasn't exactly sure how to address the fact that I had romantical feeling for my long distance best friend that I talked to maybe once a month." She chuckled. "That makes sense... Before Wanda?" Wanda was still a sore subject for Natasha. All you wanted was to reassure her. "Before... and after." She nodded. "There wasn't a choice Nat. I'd pick you, I promise you from this moment on." She smiled. "Well if it wasn't obvious I too have romantical feelings for you too." You laugh. "I'd say you do!" You say running your hand through the inscription on the tree. "I want you... us, to have the love story we deserve. So I'll make my intentions clear." Natasha was confident now and you loved it. "I want you to be my girlfriend, I want to be in your life as long as you want me in it." You smiled. "I want that too." You said softly. "Good... But I want to do this the right way. I don't want to rush us." You nod. "I can do that with you. As long as I get some kisses here and there, You know every once in a while." She pretends to think about it. "I think we can make that work." You nodded, extending your hand for her to shake. "Well that settles it then." 

The night was still young, and you were very giddy. Tony was the one hosting the party everyone wanted to be at so your street was already crowded. “I’ll never get over the fact that Tony has this much influence over others.” Natasha mentions as she pulls into her driveway. “He’s a good guy, people wouldn’t follow him if he wasn’t. They follow him for the right reason.” You say. “I guess that's true.” You laugh. “Pepper will mellow his ego out, you’ll see. There’s no need to fear for the future.” You tease her. “Plus he’s made it very clear he’s not going to let us disappear from his life so, we’ll also humble him here and there.” She laughs. “We have a busy couple of months ahead of us so let’s enjoy this night.” You mention all the planning that needs to be made before you can actually begin this new chapter. “You’re right. I’ll get changed and meet you at yours in 20?” You nod. You practically skipped all the way home. It wasn't much distance but you skipped nonetheless.

Tag List: @when-wolves-howl​ , @alyciaddict​​ , @username23345​,  @arixxxxxxxxa​ @justyourwritter69​ , @picnicmic  @swiftdazer @alphawolfchicago1124​​ ,  @sojo154 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @marvelogic​ @wandasmistress​ , @alwaysgoodnight​​ , @chickenlittlsblog​ 

A/n: Thanks for being patient and sticking with me. I’ll be back hopefully soon. Love you all have a good day ;)

[marvelmymarvel]

Guardian (Part 11)

Jiraiya x Sarutobi!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Synopsis: Your brother gave you an assignment, "Go ask Sakumo Hatake if he needs help with his newborn." It was a simple task, but it snowballed into so much more.

Tags: @twilightlover2007

Naruto Masterlist: Here

A/n: it's short but wanted to get it out 😄

Kakashi seemed nervous as he looked himself over once more in the mirror by the door. "Kakashi honey, it's okay to be nervous. This is your first team! And Minato Namikaze is a great teacher. You know, Jiraiya was the one that trained him all those years ago. So you'll be just fine." Your words, while sounding reassuring, annoyed him. He wasn't nervous! Pft. If anything, he was excited. He glared in your direction, but they softened at your teary eyes. Your lips were pulled into a loving smile and a sniffle soon followed.

"Mooooom." He whined in embarrassment, "Stop crying!!"

Jiraiya chuckled from the kitchen as he overheard you sputtering like a baby over the young boy. He peeked into the room to see you holding him in a tight hug, words of admiration and love flying from you like there was no tomorrow. Kakashi was growing more embarrassed as time went on, but he let you get it out of your system. If you did all of this now, in the privacy of your home, then you wouldn't do it in front of his classmates.

But he was very very wrong.

"Oh, my baby!!! I can't believe you're joining your first team!" Your cries had every parent and teacher looking your way. If Kakashi could disappear, he would. "Mom, please, you're embarrassing me," He grumbled as he tried to motion for Jiraiya to help him, but the man simply shook his head. There was no stopping you right now. Kakashi's eyes widened as he saw Minato walking towards them, "Mom. I beg of you-"

"Minato! How have you been?" Jiraiya called out as he met the man halfway with his hand outstretched. Minato smiled brightly at his old sensei before shaking his hand. "I've been good. You must be Kakashi!" Minato called out over your wailing. Finally, having enough of you coddling him, Kakashi broke free from your embrace. "Yes, sir! I apologize for my mother, sir-"

"Oh, that's quite alright. How are you Y/n?"

Kakashi's face fell as he looked between you two in confusion. "How do you know my mom?" You snorted at the question; he always forgot who you were. "Kakashi… Honey, I'm the Hokage's sister. Every shinobi knows who I am. I also did help Jiraiya a little with training Minato."

Kakashi's eyebrows furrowed at that last part, once more realizing that there were many things he didn't know about you. When he didn't say anything, you nodded at Minato, encouraging him to say hello properly. He nodded quickly before turning back to Minato, "I'm Kakashi Hatake, sir! It's very nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to the training I will receive under you!"

Minato smiled brightly at him before ruffling his hair, "You have your mother's excitement, that's for sure. Shall we meet the other two genin on our team? They're waiting by the door."

Kakashi nodded excitedly as he followed Minato back to the school. Jiraiya noticed some stray tears forming in your eyes and moved to stand beside you, pulling you into his side in a comforting way. Kakashi threw a wave back at you as they neared the entrance, and you waved back, trying your best to seem excited for him.

But you knew this was where it all began. Soon he'd go on missions. Easy missions at first. Then they'd morph into something more, something deadlier. With the neighboring nations still having conflict, you were worried a shinobi war would start while he was still this young.

"He'll be okay. He's a strong kid."

You had no idea why you had been so nervous for this day. It wasn't that you doubted him. You knew Kakashi was strong enough. Your throat grew dry as a memory surfaced, making you inhale sharply at the conversation. Jiraiya looked down at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain the sudden shift in attitude. "I just wish he'd fix that mindset of his. I'm afraid it's going to get someone killed." Jiraiya nodded solemnly at that, knowing immediately what you were talking about. He has experienced a couple of other arguments recently about this specific topic.

"I'll never be like him. A mission comes before a comrade."

"I try so hard to change him. To make him see that his father was a good shinobi who made a difficult choice. But I can't get to him-"

"Maybe he'll meet someone that will do that for you. He won't listen to you. But maybe he'll listen to a comrade, a friend." Jiraiya lifted his hand and rubbed his knuckle along your cheek, coaxing you out of your tunnel vision. "You're right… I just hope he learns before it's too late."

"The white fang of the leaf was a hero!"

Your head whipped around at the statement, eyes wide as you caught sight of Team Minato coming out of the training grounds. Kakashi's lunch shook in your fingers as you watched Kakashi fire back a rebuttal to the boy who claimed his father was a hero. A girl followed close behind, and you could tell she wanted to stay out of it.

Your face scrunched up as they continued arguing about Sakumo; only the young girl noticed you along the tree line, but didn't say anything as you slinked back into the trees. "Saving your comrades is heroic, Kakashi!" The boy stated angrily, causing Kakashi to halt in his place. His nose twitched under his mask, and you could tell he was going to cry. Instead of saying anything, he pushed past the young boy and stormed back towards the school.

Your eyebrows crinkled as you cocked your head at the Uchiha symbol on the young boy's back. Kakashi never talked about his teammates, but it seemed he had a reason for that. The young girl shot a look towards where you were standing, and you moved deeper into the forest.

"Does Kakashi know you follow him?"

You whirled around wide-eyed before sighing at Minato standing on the tree branch. "I wasn't…." you stated simply as you raised the lunch for him to see, "I was just bringing his food."

Minato let out a hum before dropping down, looking at you expectantly. He knew you had a question but you were hesitant to ask, so he answered it for you. "The boy is Obito Uchiha-"

"Does he know that Kakashi is Sakumo's son?"

Minato shook his head, "I haven't told him yet. I'm hoping Obito can break that mindset Kakashi has. It's going to kill someone if he's not careful. Speaking of which, I was going to ask you for a favor."

You stared at him suspiciously before nodding at him to continue. Kakashi's cold demeanor was something you had been working on for years. It would seem that his teachers had been trying to do the same. "Push Kakashi to get closer to those two. I have a good feeling that they will be the only ones to help break his mindset."

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 6 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is pretty heavy, with an exploration into grief and mental disorders. I’ve provided more of my thought process at the end as I don’t want to spoil the plot up here, but it’s there if you want to take a look beforehand!

As always - here's the ao3 link.

Summary: Dutch takes you on a minibreak and finally opens up about himself and his past.

Word count: 5,532

Content warnings: smut, discussions around mental health

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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Since his visit at the start of term, Dutch had made a point of calling you to catch up at least once a week. He wasn’t the texting type and preferred to hear about your days rather than read about them, which was rather sweet, except you had to keep your voice down if he called you while you were in your flat – just in case.  

After repeatedly trying to arrange a weekend to see you with no success, one day he sent you a message to keep three of the days a couple of weeks before Christmas free when he knew you’d be finished with lectures for the term.  

Fast-forward to then, he’d picked you up and driven the two of you to a small cottage he’d rented in the countryside a few hours away for the two of you to have some alone time together.  

The place was beautiful, quaint, and with enough local amenities to keep you busy. Although, you didn’t have much time to explore, since as soon as you’d entered and dropped your bags, Dutch attached his lips to yours and had you bent over the kitchen counter for an apt reuniting. I’ve missed you he’d said into your hair once finished, and opened up the opportunity for you to try the shower together.  

“I was thinking,” he said, sipping at his coffee as he caught up with the evening news on the old boxy television once you were both squeaky clean, “we stay in for food tonight, rest up, and go out to eat tomorrow?”  

“Sounds good,” you agreed, lifting the blanket from the back of the sofa and joining Dutch on it, draping it over the two of you and sighing contently once you were nestled into his side, the crackling fire swiftly warming the room. It was scary how easy it was to just be like this with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to question it. “Where’s there to eat around here?”  

“Uh,” Dutch pulled out his phone and scrolled around on maps, “there’s not much. A café and a pub, both relatively close to here.”  

“Either will do,” you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you arranged this.”  

“Well, I knew you couldn’t weasel your way out of it if we had something booked.”  

“I don’t weasel my way out of anything -”  

“No?” Dutch interrupted, raising his brows at you, “assignments popping up out of nowhere, extra shifts at work, a gig you forgot you had tickets for, none of those ring a bell?”  

You grumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “All valid excuses.”  

“Whatever you say, miss,” he chuckled light-heartedly. “I believe, anyway, this is a cause for celebration,” he stood, making his way into the kitchen and returning with two glasses and a bottle of fancy champagne.  

“Where the hell did you hide that? And what are we celebrating?”  

“I believe,” he opened the champagne on the small coffee table in front of you and poured out a glass. “You’re now halfway through your time at university, correct?”  

“Sort of,” you took the glass from him, “technically, it’s not halfway until after these exams. Close enough, though.”  

“And,” he sat beside you, his own glass in hand, “it’s been a year since you and I met.”  

“It has?”  

“There or thereabouts. You came over just before Christmas.”  

“Oh yeah,” you tilted your head, recalling the first time you saw Dutch casually lying on his sofa. “So it has.”  

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” Dutch scoffed, swilling the champagne around his glass.  

“Aw,” you said patronisingly, “I didn’t realise you’d been counting. Do you have a journal filled with my initials and hearts, too?”  

Dutch narrowed his gaze, a stern breath out of his nose. “I’m trying to be romantic.”  

You smirked, clinking your glass against his and have a swig. “To romance.”  

With a scoff, Dutch leaned over to place his glass on the table. “Last time I do anything nice for you -”  

“What are you doing?” you gasped, picking his glass up and shunting it into his hand.  

“What?”  

“Drink it! It’s seven years of bad sex if you toast without having a drink afterwards.”  

“You know that from experience?”  

“Just drink it,” you tapped the bottom of the glass reprimandingly, and he did as you asked.  

“I didn’t have you down as the superstitious type,” he put his arm around you, amusement lighting up his face.  

You leaned into him all the same. “I’m not, exactly. But I don’t want to take the risk. I’m quite a fan of our sex.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, taking another sip. “Are you glad your first semester is over?”  

“I will be when the exams finish. But by that point, it’ll be second semester and I’ll have to do it all over again,” you responded begrudgingly.  

“How’s John getting along? He doesn’t tell me much.”  

“He’s fine,” you shrugged, not wanting to be the middleman between the two.  

Dutch let out a sigh and stretched his back. “I should’ve known you’d be no help on that front.”  

“I am not getting involved,” you laughed. “If you want to know how he’s doing, ask him yourself. Plus, I’d rather not be reminded that he’s your son.”  

“Can’t run from the truth, darlin’,” he mused, and the two of you took another sip.  

“I’m not running. I’m just ignoring it.”  

“How’s that different?”  

“Because I said so,” you shrugged, shifting slightly to look around the room. “I like it here.”  

Dutch glanced around too. “We’ll do it again sometime.”  

The statement hinted at a future, the thought of which had been ruminating around your head as of late. You pushed it back, not wanting to divulge away from the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Instead, you snuggled up to Dutch and sat for a while until your conversation was filled with more yawns than words, at which point you turned in for the night.  

-

Waking up laid on Dutch’s chest wasn’t something you were used to yet, but it was something you enjoyed greatly. So much so, that once you’d awoken the next morning, you remained in your position and didn’t check if he was awake, wanting to savour the comfort and warmth he provided.  

That was, until he shifted, and you heard him pull something from the draw, then a lid coming off. You peeked upwards, finding Dutch taking a swig of water and screwing the lid back on a bottle of pills that he hastily put back in the drawer.  

“What are those?” you asked, leaning up on your elbow to look over at his nightstand.   

Dutch tensed, slowly shifting his eyes to meet yours before swallowing down the tablet. He looked like he’d been caught in a questionable act, the expression on his face one you’d never seen there before.  

Shame.  

You put a hand on his arm, a minor attempt at soothing whatever worry had been prodded awake in his mind. “What is it?”  

“I - they’re -” he began, looking back at his glass of water and sighing deeply. “I suppose you had to find out sooner or later.”  

“Find what out?” you sat up, facing him as concern began brewing in your mind. “Dutch, are you okay?”  

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. They’re just,” he leaned back against the headboard, decompressing as his panic turned into acceptance. “They’re mood stabilisers.”  

“Oh,” you responded, glad to hear that none of the worst-case scenarios in your head were true. You wanted to know more, but this was clearly a sensitive topic for him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”  

He looked at you with mild surprise, blinking a few times to glance down at his hands which he was wringing together. You placed your palm over them. “I don’t necessarily want to, but it’s about time you knew about it.”  

You nodded, allowing him to go at his own pace, your heart wrenching at how raw and exposed he was for the first time since you’d met him.  This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected from this weekend.  

“Not now. How about we go on a walk after breakfast? It’s a lovely part of the country,” he gestured out the window, hopeful.  

“I’d like that.”  

The two of you spoiled yourself with breakfast at a local café, idle chatter and comfortable silences accompanying your meal. Part of you wished you could go for a nap but walking it off was the more sensible option. Besides, you didn’t think letting Dutch hold that extra weight on his shoulders for any longer than necessary was a good idea.  

You walked from the local village to a nearby trail, with open fields and sky that stretched out for miles. You’d gotten lucky with the weather, despite not being hot, the sun was out and made for a nice addition to the scenery. After only a few steps, Dutch casually took your hand in his and the two of you began the walk.   

“I’ve been on them for years,” Dutch’s opening sentence was soft, as though he’d been deep in thought about how to begin the conversation.  

“Have they helped?” The question felt like a silly one, you doubted he’d take them if they didn’t, but you weren’t sure what to ask at this moment, or whether you were to ask anything at all.  

“Yeah. A lot.” He sounded almost glum.  

“That’s good.”  

“Was Arthur who got me on them in the first place.”  

You hummed in acknowledgement, feeling for a boundary you didn’t want to cross. “What are you like without them? If you don’t mind me asking.”  

“No, it’s fine.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you and felt reassured. “Uh, I think Arthur’s word for it was ‘unreasonable’. Though I think he was being nice, to placate me.”  

“On account of your unreasonableness.”  

“Exactly.”  

The silence extended, and you enjoyed the singsong of birds nearby while you waited for him to find his next words.  

“Arthur... he’s put up with a lot. A lot more than the other two. I half wonder how he still tolerates me.”  

“By put up with, do you mean with regards to you specifically?” you pried gently, hoping you weren’t putting words in his mouth.  

“Unfortunately. After Ann -” Dutch stopped, giving you a sharp look at the realisation this was the first time he’d mentioned his late wife.  

“You can talk about Annabelle,” you reassured him, “I’d like to hear about her.”  

He nodded, relieved. “After she - Annabelle, passed away, I guess I sort of changed. Well, John doesn’t agree with that, but -”  

“Agree with what?” you asked, unsure what he was referring to.  

Dutch sighed, visibly uncomfortable but with a lingering desire to continue his explanation. “John reckons I was always this way. Just that the circumstance brought it out,” he looked to the ground at the stones shifting beneath his steps, and you ran your thumb over his hand that was still clasped around yours. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.”  

Hearing him speak without an air of self-assurance was almost jarring, as though no matter how hard he tried to plan out the words there just wasn't a good way to say them. “It’s okay. Why don’t you go back to Annabelle’s passing?”  

“Right, good idea.” Dutch paused for an extended moment, ordering his thoughts. “I was so angry. That’s what I remember the most – just pure rage. She was a good person, and then she was gone.”   

You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was your place to ask but decided it might help you understand Dutch that little bit more. “How did it happen?”  

“She got sick.” That was all Dutch said, and that was all you needed to know. “We had a home, a good life, a family. Then it was just me, with these kids and I didn’t know the first thing about how to bring them up. Arthur was a teenager, poor Tilly just a toddler.”  

“But you’d brought them up until that point?”  

Dutch nodded diplomatically. “I suppose. Annabelle did all the tough bits, though, as most mothers do. But it wasn’t just that. The worst part was that I -” he trailed off, looking across the horizon and unable to hide the pain on his face. “I didn’t want to.”  

Your brows knitted together. “Bring them up?”  

“I just remember them wanting to... go away. I was heartbroken, I didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts too. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?” he looked at you, eyes sad and riddled with guilt.  

“Grief’s a funny thing.”  

A short, humourless laugh left Dutch and he turned his attention back to the scenery ahead. “Arthur,” his voice cracked on the name, “perceptive as he is, ended up doing a large part of that job for me. Mainly because I let him.” The pair of you took a few more steps, allowing the silence to dilute the tense air building around Dutch. “I resented him for it.”  

“Why?” you asked gently.  

“The kid was a better man than me. He’d lost his mother, and he had it in him to support his siblings. I just felt weak, almost like they’d -” he swallowed, his jaw ticking, “like they’d be better off if I wasn’t there.”  

“Oh, Dutch -”  

“Don’t,” he warned, not meeting your gaze, “it’s not sympathy I deserve.”  

While you didn't completely agree with that statement, you opted for doing as he asked and kept quiet on that front.  

“After a while, I got paranoid. I thought Arthur was trying to replace me, and I started to accuse him of it in not-so-many words. One night, Arthur did something he’d never done before.”  

“What?”  

“He shouted at me. Yelled at me. At that moment it was like seeing my own rage reflected, as he whittled off everything he hated about me. I was speechless. And at that moment, I hated him too.” Dutch’s face hardened with the memory, and he consciously shook it away. “The next day, Hosea – you remember him? I’m not sure you’ve met.”  

“I remember,” you nodded. Dutch’s best friend, the one he worked with. You’d never spoken with him, but you were sure you’d seen him at the barbeque back in summer.  

“Well, he came around. Sat me down with Arthur and they had an... intervention of sorts. He was more of a father to Arthur than I was at that time, and I hadn’t even noticed just how much he’d been there, taking the kids out and such. But I trust Hosea, always have.” For the first time in this conversation, Dutch’s eyes misted up, but he blinked it away. “He told me I needed to get help, and I did. I couldn’t have done it without him and Arthur.”  

You walked some more, Dutch’s hand comfortably intertwined with yours. “Shit,” you huffed, wishing you had better words to articulate your thoughts. “I - that’s a lot. I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It mustn’t have been easy, accepting you need help and then seeing it through to this point.”  

He looked at you, still a little puzzled.  

“You’ve come a long way,” you shrugged, and Dutch’s face softened as though viewing his progress as an achievement wasn’t something he often did. That didn't surprise you, for as hard as could be on his kids he was noticeably harder on himself. “I didn’t know Annabelle, but I like to think she’d be proud of you for it.”  

Dutch nodded, again looking at the countryside ahead and when his lip quivered you stopped walking, turning towards him and he mirrored your actions. You brought a hand up to the side of his face, running a thumb under his eye to catch one of his less-stubborn tears. “You’re very understanding,” his voice was weak as it carried the words, an odd thing to hear from such a proud, strong man.   

There wasn’t much you could say, really. John had never mentioned anything about this, and your initial thoughts about their perfect family life were far from the truth. Their money wasn’t enough to save Annabelle, work through their grief, or avoid the inevitable trauma that followed. The life they had was built from the ground up on a rocky foundation, and it told you a lot about Dutch to know what he’d worked through to get to this point. You wrapped your arms around his waist and embraced him, the two of you remaining like that for a short time before continuing the walk, a much lighter atmosphere surrounding you for the rest of its duration.  

-

After the walk, the two of you were hungry enough to go out for dinner earlier than planned, and promptly returned to the cottage once fed.  

“What did you do with the rest of that champagne?” you called into the kitchen, fiddling with the cardigan you’d draped over your shoulders.  

“I stuck it in the fridge with a spoon in the opening. Should be okay – do you want some more?” Dutch called back.  

“Well,” you shifted on the arm of the sofa you were perched on, “I was thinking we could give that hot tub a whirl.”  

A comical pause of silence preluded Dutch appearing in the doorway, eyebrows raising when he was met with you in your bikini. A half-smile inched onto his face, and he licked his lips absentmindedly. “You are full of good ideas,” he leaned up against the doorframe, his voice dropping in pitch. “You don’t think it’ll be cold?”  

“Not in the hot tub,” you shrugged. “I’ll go figure out how to turn it on.” With that, you stood and walked away, smirking at the lack of movement on Dutch’s part.  

Eventually, he pulled himself together and you were already relaxed in the warm water when he came outside, in his own shorts with the champagne in hand. The smile he couldn’t keep off his face was contagious as he placed the drink down and stepped into the water to sit opposite you.  

He did look undeniably cute surrounded by bubbles.  

Once he’d poured a glass, he handed it over and you held it up expectantly, waiting for his toast.  

“Oh no, you were rather critical of my toast yesterday,” he said amusedly, pouring his own glass. “If you want one, you do it.”  

You smiled surreptitiously, tilting your head while you thought. Once one came to mind, you flicked your gaze to his and cleared your throat. “To plentiful sex.”  

Dutch tipped his head back as he laughed, eyes shining when they met yours. “Well, the gods of toasting do seem to have a lot of power in determining sexual relations, it seems, so that is fitting.”  

With a nod of agreement, you extended your arm out and Dutch tapped his glass against yours. He made a show of retaining eye contact while you both took a sip. You jolted when something came into contact with your foot, but relaxed upon the realisation that it was just Dutch’s own foot inching towards you. Your body grew warmer at the insinuation, now heating up from the inside as well the outside thanks to the steamy water. He crept further up your shin, over your knee and up your inner thigh, then paused. He shunted his foot upwards, knocking your glass of champagne and did a good job of spilling it down your front.  

“Dutch,” you cried in a half-laugh, sitting up straight and shivering at the cool alcohol on your skin.  

The man just laughed, but soon leaned over onto your side of the tub. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, taking your glass and setting it down along with his, “I’ve got it.” With that, he brought his head to your chest and licked the champagne from your cleavage, all the way up to your neck. Your shock swiftly moulded into arousal, sighing softly and arching into his touch.  

“You’re a bastard,” you said despite yourself, but even that came out all breathy.   

“You love it,” he said against your skin, continuing to clear it of the spilt champagne. “Besides,” he lifted his head, “it’d be unfair not to test that toast of yours.”  

“Unfair?” you repeated, running one of his damp curls between your fingers, “unfair on who, exactly?”  

“Me, you, the toast gods...” he said in-between pecks to your chest, trailing down to venture between your breasts once again.  

Your fingertips ran into his scalp, spurring him on. “Well, we can’t have that.”  

Dutch kissed along your clavicle then brought his face to yours. “I admire your fairness.”  

After sighing out a laugh you pecked his lips, and one turned to two which turned to many. He tasted of champagne, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands moving behind your back to untie your bikini. Without breaking the chain of kisses, you made a joint effort to remove it and he instantly found your breasts, caressing them in his hands.  

You moved your fingers through his hair to hold the back of his head, keeping his lips pressed onto yours. Dutch brought his hand to your face, reciprocating your desire until the kiss broke and you brought a palm up to his cheek, the pair of you catching your breath and observing each other as day turned to night. “Are you sure we can do this in here?” you asked.  

“I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the wait to do it anywhere else,” Dutch huffed and that was more reasoning than you needed; you weren’t sure you’d survive it yourself. You encouraged him to sit where he was previously and straddled him, the warm water sloshing around your bodies.   

Dutch hummed as his palms felt their way up your thigh and you angled yourself so that his cock was pressed against you in just the right place between your combined swimwear. His fingers trailed around, squeezing your ass then trailing further still to press over your cunt. Thankfully, he couldn’t tease you for how wet you were this time.  

Your whine in response was likely enough for him to figure it out anyway, and he deftly moved your bikini bottoms to the side so he could slide a finger in, and you clenched around it, searching for more.  

“That’s it,” he cooed, voice thick and breaths short. You ground your clit onto him while he pumped his finger, soon after adding a second. It was greedy, but you always wanted more when it came to this man. His other hand brushed up your flank to reach your breast, running his thumb over your nipple as he intently watched the pleasure spread over your face. “You truly are magnificent.”  

You tutted, lightly pinching his shoulder. “Hush.”  

He shook his head with a smile. “Never.”  

Reaching down to remove his shorts, he lifted his hips to assist, and you decided you might as well go completely bare too. After untying your bottoms, you flung them over the side with his shorts and immediately ground onto his length. Dutch whimpered weakly as you lined up and slowly sunk down onto him.  

“Oh my,” Dutch breathed and held your hips in his hands, keeping your crotch anchored to his while your walls fluttered around him and got used to the feeling. His body was growing familiar, a thing you anticipated but admired all the same just as you had the first time you’d become intertwined.  

You shifted your knees and pressed your torso into his, a gentle hand on his neck to persuade him to look up at you. He did, and with a stifled sigh, you pressed your lips to his. Dutch was oddly pliant, allowing your tongue in and following your lead as you explored his mouth. Experimentally, you raised your hips some and sunk back down, finding a tender rhythm that made him dig his fingernails into your flesh.  

While the air was cold, the two of you were burning hot. Manoeuvring yourself up and down Dutch’s length allowed for a measure of control you hadn’t had previously, and the quiet praise he repeated as you moved told you all you needed to know about his thoughts on the matter. His thighs twitched occasionally, him fighting the urge to pound into you and rush to the finish.  

Leaning back from him, you took in the sight of his steamy, soaked skin, the pink flush that resided there and the defined curls, some of which fell forward onto his face. He was drinking you in, too, your wet skin and exposed nipples, along with the lust-filled expression on your face as your lips parted and eyes grew heavy. The angle allowed for a repeated pressure over the sensitive spot in your walls, and you dropped your head back with a moan as the intensity increased with each thrust.  

“Dutch,” you whispered into the evening air, thoroughly and contently filled with him.  

“I know, darlin’,” he agreed, enamoured with the view of you falling apart right on his lap.  

Dutch’s muscles, highlighted thanks to the blanket of water covering his form, grew taut with the strength of which he clung to you. He squeezed your thighs, dragging his fingernails over your skin and his carnal need flashed dangerously over his eyes. With a growl, you found yourself losing the rhythm you’d built as Dutch forced his own, pulling you down onto him at a much more brutal pace.  

You cried out, Dutch hissing through his teeth as his features scrunched. “Oh, yes,” he said approvingly, “I finally get to hear your pretty song.”  

The more noise you let spill from your mouth, the harder Dutch gripped your flesh and used your body for his enjoyment, the two of you slippery and still yearning for more. You wanted it so bad it hurt, your abdomen burning up as his cock fucked you further and further into a state of euphoria. It was just you and him, able to be animals of your own accord, nobody around to tell you it was wrong or immoral.  

But that was why you liked it. This older, mature man saw the value in you, grew almost obsessive at the thought of your body and the back and forth in your mind slowed every time he showed you just what you did to him. You clouded his judgement; you were worth the risk. You had him panting, pulling your body to his as he claimed all that you were. He had the same effect on you, you supposed.  

Dutch shifted in his seat, digging his feet into the bottom of the tub to try and get further in, to fuck you harder, deeper. “Fuck, darlin’ -” he moaned, tailing off almost into a whimper. “Oh my, my girl. You feel so good. So good.”  

His babbling praise filled your ears, seeped into your skin and fed your very soul. Making him lose his well-practised control only heightened your lust. You whined, feeling over the flexing muscle of his shoulders and holding on for dear life. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you floated right up into the stars above.  

“Shit, I can’t -” he grunted strenuously, “I’m gonna, sweetheart, I’m gonna -”  

And he did, pulling you as far down onto his cock as he could and dropping his head to your chest, his thighs twitching beneath you as he filled your pussy to the brim. You cradled his jaw, laboured breaths leaving the pair of you as he looked up with those dark eyes of his. He tutted at himself, muttering an apology and you chuckled as he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing across it and pressing down at just the right moment.  

His teeth attacked your neck, and you knew he’d leave a mark but screw it – regardless of anything you couldn’t deny that you were his. It felt too good, his cock and his fingers and his lips exploring every avenue of your body. “Come, darlin’,” he said lowly, his voice hoarse, “let me feel you come on my cock. That’s it. Good girl, come on -”  

Your toes curled and your eyes tightened shut at the feeling that shot through you, a hot wave of shock that buzzed into your appendages. With a moan of relief, you dropped your forehead to press against his, still feeling the after-effects of your orgasm. “That was so -”  

Dutch hummed in agreement, and you were glad he understood.   

Tenseness turned to relaxation as you melted into him, and your body felt weaker and more fucked-out than it ever had. Dutch’s big arms wrapped around you when you rested your head on his shoulder, and you could happily fall asleep right there – even if it did mean you’d look like a prune come morning.  

“I think someone’s ready for bed.”  

“Oh no,” you yawned, “I’m full of energy.”  

Dutch snickered, and you groaned when he shifted, but he shushed you gently. “Just sit there for five seconds, darlin’.”  

You did, begrudgingly, and watched him step out of the hot tub and find his shorts from the floor, pulling them up before turning off the hot tub. Then he reached in and took you in his arms, cradling you as though you were his most prized possession. It was a fair trade, and you wrapped your arms around your neck as he walked into the house and carried you into the bedroom.  

“Now, tell me, you don’t exactly want to get this bed all wet, do you?” you raised your brows at him suggestively, and he shook his head in mild disapproval. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”  

“No,” you gave in, “I don’t.”  

“Right. So, I’m gonna stand you up here, wipe us both down with a towel, and then we’ll get comfy. Deal?”  

“Deal,” you parroted, leaning in to press your lips to his.  

Dutch followed up on his end of the bargain, gently dragging the soft towel over your skin. You climbed into bed while he dried himself. He changed into some dry, charcoal grey shorts and glanced over to you. “Would you like your pyjamas?”  

Your answer was a shake of your head, and his expression grew pleased. “Good. I’ll just be a second.”  

He left to lock the doors and turn out the lights and then returned to climb in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest and you wrapped your leg over his, attempting to get as close as you could.  

“You’re a special girl,” he hummed into your hair, and it was the last thing you remembered hearing before drifting off.  

-

This must’ve been on record for the most showers you’d ever taken in a weekend. Dutch had the expected reaction come morning to your nude form lying half-on him, and you didn’t blame nor begrudge him for it. The two of you were squeaky clean once again by the time you sat down for late breakfast Dutch had insisted on cooking for you.  

“I wish we could stay here,” you said melancholily, leaning back in your chair and taking a swig of orange juice to wash down your food.  

“Don’t tempt me,” Dutch agreed, resting his open palm on the table.  

You placed yours over it and offered him a bittersweet smile, the unfairly quick passing of time feeling almost like a robbery of sorts. Here, you'd been away from your troubles and stress at university, and you'd been able to just be with him without worrying about who'll hear you. It was just what you'd needed. “Thanks for bringing me.”  

“Of course. Fancy enjoying the view for the last few hours?”  

With a nod you stood, and Dutch led you outside, taking a seat on the bench facing the outstretched scenery and you took a sit on his lap in turn. He lit a cigarette and you relaxed into him, glancing up at the hard line of his jaw while he pressed the smoke to his mouth.  

It was so cliché, but god did he look hot while he smoked.  

“I was wondering,” he began, “why don’t the lot of you live in the same flat?”  

“We were meant to. But because I didn’t let the accommodation office know, nobody did.”  

“You really are the good girl of the group.”  

“Hardly,” you huffed, gesturing a hand to him.  

“Touché,” he smirked around his next drag. “Will you next year?”  

“Yeah, either merge our flats or rent a house. Whichever is cheapest.”  

Dutch hummed. “That’s pretty close quarters.”  

“Mhm. So you won’t be able to sneak into my room should you decide to come up again.”  

With a laugh, Dutch gently ran his hand up and down your back. “I won’t need to if you agree to spend the odd weekend with me.”  

“I will,” you relented.  

“Promise?” he asked, and you pecked his cheek.  

“Promise.”  

End Note: Lemme preface this by saying I am not a professional on psychiatry or anything related to it, however, a common opinion about Dutch in the fandom is that he suffers with BPD or something similar. I agree, to the end that I had a family member with it and with a bit of extra research the symptoms do line up with Dutch’s personality. With this being a modern AU, I wanted to delve into how his life could’ve differed with the advancement of medicine and knowledge. That being said, I only have the internet to guide me so I apologise if any part of it seems inaccurate - please correct me if that’s the case! For that reason, I didn’t want to go too deep into it and be irresponsible, but I do love picking this man’s brain apart and it felt wrong not to address it at least a little. I’m not entirely sure how common it is for people with BPD or similar illnesses to reach a level of self-awareness like he does here, but I know it is possible in some cases, and with Dutch being rich it makes sense that he’d at least be able to get access to decent treatment. What we do know from R* is that Dutch struggled with being suicidal (if you haven’t played RDR1 or at least watched the scenes he’s in I highly recommend it) and it ties in well with his circumstance so again I wanted to touch on it.

[littlelcvestory]

thank you @wesperbrekkered for tagging me even though im so inactive on like all my fandom accounts 😭😭😭

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 13 :)

2. What is your AO3 word count?

29,858 words 😭 thats kinda crazy for me ngl

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

my main is six of crows! my ao3 still has my fics from when i wrote solangelo tho lmao

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

sparks fly (whenever you smile) with 268 (wesper)

we were in screaming color with 244 (solangelo)

Doctor Death (god this fic is so old i hate it 😭) with 236 (solangelo)

i wanna teach you how forever feels with 221 (wesper)

time can't stop me quite like you did with 205 (i wrote this for a school assignment, it's from the book they both die at the end)

i strongly dislike this list mainly because of solangelo being on there and how long ago i wrote those fics because theyre really bad now 😭 perhaps leave more kudos on my wesper fics :)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 

YES it makes me so happy that people enjoyed what i wrote. i'd like to say it's author fuel but i have not touched any of my fics since august but they ARE author serotonin

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

it's either time can't stop me quite like you did (because he literally d!es) but none of my SoC fics have angsty endings, because none of them have endings. haha

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uhh i'd say it would be i wanna teach you how forever feels purely because it's a cute domestic post-ck wesper

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i dont think im widespread enough to have haters on my fics tbh 😭

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

nope, i am literally 16 !! although i have written a few very intimate passages but theres also taught you the way you call me baby which is the closest i'll ever get for now

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

my wesper romeo and juliet au like fire and powder that i havent touched since august! this was like my most big brain idea ever but i'm torn between discarding it and starting from scratch or continuing as it is right now

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

i dont think so, and i hope not !

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

no :)

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

also no

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 

wesper. next!

15. What’s a WIP you’d like to finish but doubt you ever will?

THE ROMEO AND JULIET AU I AM CRYING i need to continue it as soon as possible oh lord

16. What are your writing strengths?

not sure tbh! i do find writing dialogue easy but it also leads to my downfall sometimes which i'll explain in the next question

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

inner monologues, because they jump around too much and i eventually stray from the original thought. or anything thats not closely tied to a character ... i'm really strong with character driver things but if you hand me a plot, i'm gonna struggle (which may be why the r&j au is failing LMAO) and how i said with dialogue, it ends up being dry and makes the scene move a little too fast. i'm really bad at slowing down scenes 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? 

never done it before hehe

19. First fandom you wrote for?

percy jackson, i think

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

my romeo and juliet au because its the most ambitious thing i ever tried to accomplish. i really want to get back to it because i'm still so intrigued by the idea of it and i was shocked i wrote 10k for the first chapter but it felt like it was being squeezed out of me... i'll do my best to get back to writing i've had insane weiters block (no thanks to school 🙄)

thanks for tagging me rae :) i'm tagging @artsypretzel @jazzythursday and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it :)

[sage-nebula]

Hello! Here are some questions I'm asking fanfic writers for fun and for you to answer if you feel like it!!! :DD :

1. What is your favourite fic you have written and why? (This can be something you haven't published yet or a general story idea)

2. How long have you been writing fics for? (In general regardless of fandoms)

3. Best friend you have met through the Sonic fandom?

4. Another writer in the fandom who's work you admire?

5. Favourite Sonic oc you have made and why? (If you haven't made any then skip this one)

6. Your favourite (or favourites if it's hard to pick) fanfiction you've read?

7. Which fic have you written which has the most sentimental value or story behind it?

8. Favourite Sonic character?

If I have sent you this, love your work!!! Hope you have a good day and thank u for your contribution to the fandom!!!

This is so sweet, thank you! And I’m sorry it has taken me so long to answer; I haven’t been on an actual computer outside of my work one in a little bit (and I’m only on my Chromebook now, but it’s still easier to type long answers on a Chromebook than my phone).

1.) The one that means the most to me is definitely A Candle in the Dark, which is a YuGiOh fic that diverges from chapter 11 of the original manga. It’s the first (and so far only) novel-length story I have ever finished, clocking in at over 100k words, and I actually have a bound version of it on my bookshelf because of how proud I am of that achievement. And you know, re-reading it, I think that the writing holds up; I think it’s still one of the best things I have ever written. I will say that you don’t really need to know YuGiOh to understand it; no card games actually take place in the fic (since it takes place so early on in the series), and so long as you have a basic grasp of the characters I think it’s easy enough to understand. So if you’re interested, I would be honored if you read it! But know also that it is a dark fic, with heavy themes of abuse and other things, though I warn for everything at the start of each chapter that contains that content. Either way though, it’s still the most important fic to me, and is nearest and dearest to my heart.

2.) Mm, let’s see . . . the first story I ever wrote was an Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog fic for a school assignment when I was in first grade. I didn’t know what fanfiction even was at the time, but we were told to write a story, and that’s what I wrote. I don’t remember much about it, but I remember I did illustrations for it and everything . . . I’m sure it was terrible, but I had so much fun with it back then.

I didn’t really write consistently after that though, and in fact didn’t start writing consistently until I was 10. I still didn’t know what fanfiction was and to be honest I didn’t write fanfiction at first; I was just writing “original” things (read: I was writing a book that was basically Ocarina of Time but with dragons instead of horses and all of the characters were women except for the defenseless ranch boy the heroine had to save at some point). I never finished that, mostly because some bullies chucked my notebook out of the school bus window, but I did write a lot of it before that happened, and I wrote stories on the computer we had too and saved them to floppy discs. (This computer did not have access to the internet, and my floppy discs were in rainbow colors. I loved them.)

I discovered fanfiction when I was . . . thirteen, I think? When I had some AOL free trial discs to use on the computer that we had, and I googled for Cardcaptor Sakura stuff since I had just gotten the first six volumes of the manga and was back into that again. I discovered Cardcaptor Sakura fanfiction on some Geocities website, realized that this was totally a thing you could do, and later discovered FFN and started writing fic of my own. So if we consider that to be my fanfiction start, then it has been 20 years. But if we consider how long I’ve been writing fiction period, then I would say it’s closer to 23 years.

3.) I have so many great friends in this fandom! But I have to give a special mention to Steph (@skimmingmilk), because she is my co-author on our fic To Rearrange the Stars and it is also just crazy how much we have in common. I swear, it feels like every time we learn something new about each other it’s like “are you me? Are we the same person??” lmao. Plus it’s also nice that we’re about the same age (she’s only a year younger than I am) so it’s less lonely in the old folks retirement home LOL.

4.) Again, so many! Chaox’s (@chaoxfix) fics are what inspired me to start writing Sonic fics again though, and got me to break my something like three year streak of not writing anything, so I have to give her a special shoutout. My skills still feel very rusty, but they are less rusty now than they were this time last year, and I have her fics to thank for that.

5.) I have not written anything with her, but I am very fond of Misty Prower, i.e. Tails’ mom. Yes, she is deceased in my headcanons, but when she was alive she was a genius inventor like him, and had so many dreams of one day moving off West Side Island to go to a bigger city and change the world through the power of science. She sat him on her lap and taught him what different tools were called, and how to properly unscrew a bolt, and even though he doesn’t remember that she’s the one who taught him “righty-tighty, lefty-loosey,” he still remembers it to this day. She was clever and playful and happy with her life as the wife of a fisherman (especially since she built all the gear they used), but she could have done so much more, too, had she not died in that storm. I’m fond of her, and am still kicking around that idea of her meeting Sonic in limbo.

Aside from Misty, while he hasn’t yet made an appearance, I really like S.I.M., the A.I. that Miles built for himself in Beyond Oblivion (and I don’t feel this is a spoiler since he mentions S.I.M. in chapter four). While Miles tells himself that S.I.M. is not real and is just a program, S.I.M. is still the closest he has to a friend, and purposefully does things to make Miles smile and laugh. I have it in my mind that Tails eventually creates S.I.M. in the canon ‘verse, too, just later in life (since Tails doesn’t need S.I.M. like Miles did), and because Tails is a much healthier person than Miles in just about every way, this time the A.I. gets an actual name. I’m not fully decided on what that name will be yet, though I’m leaning heavily toward Net (as in internet). Net will take the form of a mouse (as in computer mouse) either on-screen or in hologram form, and just like S.I.M. tends to have a cheerful, bright, silly personality. Loves memes and making people laugh. So, same character, but different universe and development. 

6.) My all-time favorite fics are The Legend of Zelda: The Return and its sequel, The Legend of Zelda: Reconciliation by Rose Zemlya. While there are things in those fics that haven’t aged well and that Rose has said she would write differently now (e.g. use of the word “psycho,” some off-color remarks about Sheik’s gender), I can look past those things because a.) Rose has acknowledged them as being problematic and would write them differently now, and b.) they’re small parts of otherwise excellent novels. I have been following these fics for 20 years now, and I will follow them for 60 more if that’s what it takes to see Reconciliation finished. Rose’s writing evolved and grew over time, and not only is it remarkable to see that happen, but the stories are just so goddamn excellent. If Reconciliation was finished they would both be on my bookshelf now. I can promise you that.

Another favorite is More Than Human by SBJ, which is a Powerpuff Girls fic that markets itself as a PPG/RRB fic set in high school, but it’s so much more than that. I mean, yes, it is that – but there is also a huge overarching plot, multiple character arcs that are being interwoven into the narrative, brilliant character studies, and more. I clicked on the fic after seeing one of my favorite fandom artists make art of it, and I’ve been hooked ever since. It’s incredible, and it will be on my shelf once it is finished.

Lastly, I would be remiss if I didn’t give a shoutout to a fic I actually DO have bound on my bookshelf, and that’s the first three fics in Sometimes The Picket Fence Isn’t Perfect series by the lovely Steph. I compiled all three into a PDF and had them bound into a physical book on my bookshelf so I can read it any time I want, even if the internet one day explodes. It is money well-spent. If you are a Sonic fan, and you like Unbreakable Bond, and you have not read those fics, then I recommend you change that posthaste. Because they are amazing.

7.) I don’t know that I have an answer to this question, sorry! Mostly because I’m not entirely sure what’s being asked. I’ll just again refer to A Candle in the Dark as my favorite of the fics I have written.

8.) My girl Whisper the Wolf has stolen my heart the most, but of course Miles “Tails” Prower is right up there with her. Ultimately, I think Whisper pulls ahead just a little because she has had the fewest opportunities for her character to be treated poorly (given that she debuted in the IDW comics and, aside from the mobile games, has yet to make the jump to other media), and because I find her to be a really well-written character with trauma in the stories in which she’s focused. She’s also a wolf, which is another bonus because wolves are my favorite animal. But I have always loved Tails when he is written well, and I will always love him when he is written well, especially because he’s written like a classical antihero, which I find to be an interesting character when done well. What can I say, I’m just drawn to the canines. :) 

Thank you again for sending this, I really appreciate it! 

[fayerieetale]

Apparently some tag question has been going around, and I thought these have been illegal already. AND nobody tagged me for it, so Imma tag myself cause I'm too lazy to study right now and I'm being a Leo.

1. What would the happiest and best version of yourself look like?

If I'm lying on my side with someone feeding me grapes, and at the flick of my fingers, people do what I please or what's on my mind.

2. What message/advice would you give to your past self?

NEVER WASTE YOUR TIME ON SOMEONE OR SOMETHING NOT WORTH IT-YOU WILL GET OVER THEM.

3. What is your happy place and why?

Church. HAHA, can't even lie to myself.

Last day of exams. I come home. Take a shower. Open the AC. Close the curtains and lights. And take a sleep for hours. Feeling all the exhaustion run out through my body.

4. Have you ever been in a toxic relationship? How did you get out of it? Any advice?

Yup. In all kinds of relationships. The thing is I don't get out, because I like it manipulative and toxic, well, at least, they do.

5. If money didn't matter (if you earned enough money from it) what job would you want to have and why?

Trauma surgeon. Period.

6. Do you have your happiest memory? If you don't mind sharing please tell us about it.

This is rather sad, but my happiest memory was just an expectation. It was supposed to happen last January. But it didn't. And that makes me extremely lonely.

7. Do you have your saddest memory? If you don't mind sharing please tell us about it.

Wow! that escalated rapidly. I think I have more sad memories than happy ones. And the thing is they're of the same level. But I'll choose two since I tagged myself and this is my page.

First: is that when my mother thought I cannot do med school since my sister is having difficulty in law school, which means if she's already having difficult time in doctorate school, what more if I do it.

Second: when someone who mattered to me said, not just on one but multiple occasions: "whenever i see a pretty pretty pretty girl on my social media, i wonder if you were even pretty"; don't get me wrong, these things didn't bother or bother me now, but during those times, I let myself to be vulnerable.

8. What is the movie/book/tv show that made you think a lot or made you change something about yourself?

Nietzsche book just to sound pretentious. Even the spelling is intimidating.

9. If you ever were to write a book what would it be about?

My autobiography. We need to epitomize me.

10. Do you have a strange habit?

Nope. Too perfect.

11. Have you ever met a person that drastically changed your life?

Yeah. We no longer talk.

12. How would you describe yourself in 5 words ?

I will never be enough.

13. What is your idea of a perfect day?

Waking up late in bed with the AC on, and the blanket just keeping me warm. Looking at the back of someone while he quietly makes breakfast for lunch, with sunlight hitting right through the gap of the curtains. Watching movies or reading a book after lunch, sleeping and snuggling, then going out for dinner and walking around Calle Crisologo. I'm easy to please provided that all of his attention, and eyes are on me. And well, if he carries me as I flick my fingers as if on cue.

14. Do you have any embarrassing stories from your life?

I am not romanticizing embarrassment. Just get the book. Refer to #9.

15. What is the strangest thing you've done or seen ?

I plead the 5th.

16. What is your gender identity? Do you think you do a lot of stereotypical things that are assigned to your gender?

I do exaggerated stereotypical things to mock the society. But in general, I couldn't care less.

17. If you could bring one character from a book to life, who would it be and why?

The wolf guy from Twilight. He seems hot. Hopefully he doesn't smell like a dog. (Refer to number 16)

18. Do you have a person in your life that makes you feel special or a person that you feel like you're soulmates with?

You mean personS?

19. What has been the hardest thing you had to deal with? Do you have any advice on how to deal with a similar situation?

Family stuff. Never limit yourself just because they don't believe in you. You do you.

20. What are you currently waiting for?

a. Getting married (refer to number 16)

b. Scholarship allowance

[btsfangirling]

Artist Statement

Through this project, we aim to use our knowledge from Unit 1: Transnational Fan Studies and Unit 2: The Transnational Roots of Critical BTS Studies to showcase the unique relationship that BTS has cultivated with ARMY and to exemplify how BTS has become a transmedia phenomenon through our multimedia approach to this project. Our use of Tumblr led us to see how ARMY is connected across multiple platforms, such as YouTube, Twitter, Tumblr, and live broadcasts. In our own posts, we incorporated this idea by discussing BTS’s multimedia approach to marketing and fan connection, while also providing examples by sharing BTS content from other platforms. We also were able to see firsthand how diverse ARMY is, which led us to some interesting analysis regarding activism, stereotypes, and cultural differences. This relates to some of the discussion we had in Unit 1, which focused on the importance of considering cultural and political context when looking at transnational fandom. We could see how this was relevant to ARMY when looking at the many different points of view regarding BTS’s political activism and social positioning, as well as how they have been able to cultivate soft power. Overall, we learned a lot about ARMY and BTS, which was one of our main purposes. This experience was also key in shaping our analysis, and helped us effectively synthesize both of these units. In the end, we had a lot of fun with this account and it made all of us more interested in continuing our journey with ARMY and discovering more BTS content.

Tumblr was each group member’s default choice when we first decided on creating a BTS fan page. However, we were quickly faced with the question of why Tumblr? What about Tumblr stood out to us enough to choose it over other platforms? As someone who has been using Tumblr for just about all of their fandom knowledge for the past 10+ years, it just seemed like the most obvious answer to me; I never even thought about why it made more sense to use it over any other platforms. We all took some time to think about what exactly our goal was in the first place with creating this fan page and then discussed the possibility of other platforms. We wanted to make sure that we were still achieving what we were meant to – which was connecting Unit 3 back to Unit 1 – while still maintaining a sense of fan activity. We unanimously voted to work with Unit 3 because we all felt more connected to BTS than shojo manga. In an effort to prioritize the academic field of fan studies, we wanted to be able to discuss the actual media itself, while also focusing on the fans, as they are of course what truly make up the fandom. Creating a fan page just felt like the best way to honor them as this is how fans tend to show their love and devotion to their favorite artists, actors, and media. We wanted to create something fun and fannish that achieved the goal of our assignment, while also being something that fans could engage with. 

When it came to considering which platforms to use, we quickly ruled out Instagram because it prioritized visual aspects and not words – which was not the approach we wanted to take. TikTok was consequently ruled out because it also prioritized visual elements which overshadowed our goals.We seriously considered using Twitter because ARMY’s presence is quite prevalent there. We liked the idea of easy engagement, the ability to post texts, images, and videos alike. We disliked the character limit, but it was possible to post longer thoughts through threads. However, Tumblr also gave us all of these things and didn’t have a character limit. What ended up truly making the difference for us and why we ended up choosing Tumblr is that while, yes, there is most definitely a political side of Tumblr, it has, for the most part, remained a platform dominated by fans and does not heavily rely on an algorithm to encourage social capital. The fact that choosing a platform was such a debate only goes to show the widespread reach that BTS has across media landscapes. 

In making a Tumblr account for our final project, our goal was to gain some firsthand experience with fandom in order to further our understanding of BTS and ARMY, as none of us had much knowledge going into this unit. When we first made the account, we spent a good amount of time just scrolling through our main feed, seeing recommended posts, and using the search feature to find more specific BTS content. One thing that we noticed immediately was how different Tumblr’s algorithm is compared to most social media platforms. We were shown a wide variety of posts, some that had thousands of notes, and some that had zero. We really appreciated this aspect of Tumblr in doing our research because we were able to go beyond the surface of ARMY and really see the wide range of opinions, priorities, and fan made content within the fandom. This Tumblr deep dive also helped us to make our own fan posts, as we saw the wide range of topics that people in the fandom were talking about and were interested in. We decided that we should each post one BTS related question, one opinion, and one longer analysis that incorporated sources from Units 1 and 3. This variety of posts best fit the platform we were using, while also being an effective way to connect these two units together.

After deciding the platform and the format of our page, we had to decide on which sources to use. We chose six sources for our project, two per member. Each group member personally identified with their sources which worked out well. Kai chose “BTS for BLM” by Michelle Cho and “Inside the BTS ARMY, the Devoted Fandom with an Unrivaled Level of Organization” by Kat Moon which argue that BTS has transcended the one dimensional label of pop stars through their philanthropic endeavors and vitality to South Korea's economic rise. 

Averie chose “Nostalgia for Nostalgia: BTS on American TV” by Michelle Cho and “Searching for the Origami Unicorn” by Henry Jenkins which work together well because Jenkins argues that transmedia storytelling requires different mediums of expression outside of words to be economically and transnationally successful, and Cho explains that BTS utilizes nostalgia in many different ways to permeate language barriers and reach a wider audience – thus proving Jenkins’ point about the requirements for successful and sustainable transmedia storytelling. Solana chose “BTS as Cultural Ambassadors” by Sarah Keith and “BTS and the World Music Industry” by Kyung Hyun Kim with the purpose of demonstrating that due to active participation in media landscapes, down to earth lyrics, and their philanthropic endeavors, BTS has proved themselves to be influential in both cultural and political landscapes. Our aim was for all of these sources to interact with one another on one social media page to create a well rounded discussion of why BTS has achieved such widespread success across the globe. 

In conclusion, through Tumblr we were able to create a balanced discussion of why BTS broke through international barriers using academic sources and arguments – along with our own fannish engagement. 

Works Cited

Cho, Michelle. “BTS for BLM: K-Pop, Race, and Transcultural Fandom.” Celebrity Studies, vol. 13, no. 2, Apr. 2022, pp. 1–10, https://doi.org/10.1080/19392397.2022.2063974.

---. “Nostalgia for Nostalgia: BTS on American TV.” Los Angeles Review of Books, Mar. 2021, lareviewofbooks.org/article/nostalgia-for-nostalgia-bts-on-american-tv/.

Jenkins, Henry. “Searching for the Origami Unicorn.” Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide, New York University Press, 2006, pp. 93–130.

Keith, Sarah. “BTS as Cultural Ambassadors.” The Soft Power of the Korean Wave: Parasite, BTS, and Drama. Routledge, 2021.

Kim, Kyung Hyun. “BTS and the World Music Industry.” The Soft Power of the Korean Wave: Parasite, BTS, and Drama. Routledge, 2021.

Moon, Kat. “Inside the BTS ARMY, the Devoted Fandom with an Unrivaled Level of Organization.” Time Magazine, Nov. 2020.

When we started our project, we decided to meet in person to plan our course of action and how to divide the workload. We spent that time together going through our account and  talking about what we noticed, then made a plan for what we wanted to talk about in our posts. We split our labor up evenly, we each made 3 posts (one question, one opinion, and one analytic post), and split up the artist statement into even sections (each writing about 1 ½ pages). We had great communication throughout this project, and allowed each other the freedom to post about topics that we were particularly interested in. We continued to check up on each other’s progress throughout this process and had no issues with meeting deadlines and distributing our labor.

[the-music-keeper]

I think feeling overwhelmed just froze my brain.

Thank you, to-do list.

Schumann Seminar

1. Thym reading. (This is the sort of analysis I enjoy.)

2. Notes on the Thym reading. (Pretty straightforward notes.)

3. Score study/listening for several Schumann settings. (You know, when I leave enough time for proper score study, I actually really enjoy doing it.)

4. Analyze a Schumann setting of an Eichendorff poem. (I have some follow-up work I'd like to do, but the meat of the analysis is done.)

Baroque History

5. Hill reading. (Every little bit counts.)

6. Notes on the Hill reading. (Take THAT, distraction!)

7. Strunk reading. (I like short readings like this.)

8. Notes on the Strunk reading. (I actually didn't need to take a ton of notes.)

9. Bianconi reading. (A small tidbit.)

10. Notes on the Bianconi reading. (Should be somewhat easy if not quick.)

11. Score study. (Still no assigned listening.)

12. Notes on anthology scores. (The textbook is nice to have open for these notes because it gives you things to search for.)

13. Drop by the Wednesday office hour. (We had a decently productive conversation.)

14. Get my topic sent in. (Along with a couple research questions.)

15. Bianconi and Walker reading. (This is a giant reading, and thankfully my professor said I don't need to worry about it too much. It's going to be a low priority, and if I do get to it I'm not going to be taking detailed notes.)

Research Assistantship

16. Program note for Mendelssohn. (One down, two to go.)

17. Program note for Brahms. (Two down, one to go.)

18. Program note for Beethoven. (DONE.)

19. ...revise the program notes. (I think we're good now.)

20. Reread the first chapter of my advisor's book. (I confirmed today that he still wants a meeting on this separate from class.)

Piano Practice

21. Choral rep. (The usual.)

Adulting

22. Laundry. (A week and a half's worth, done!)

23. Schedule lab work. (Finally put on my big girl pants and got this scheduled.)

24. Double check the due dates on my library books. (Time for a calendar reminder.)

Sigh. I think once I get the ball rolling on this it'll go faster than I think, but wow, I'm so glad I'm not working on Saturday.

[wondereads]

Personal Review (12/26/22)

From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Summary

Penellaphe, or Poppy, is the Maiden, a child chosen by the gods. Raised by a vicious duke and apathetic duchess, she finds her calling in helping those infected by the Craven, zombie-like creatures that roam outside city walls. At the same time the dreaded Atlantians and Descenters start making more direct threats, Poppy is assigned a new personal guard, Hawke, who makes her question things about herself and the world around her.

Plot 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

This book could very easily have been half the length it was. While the overall concept is fine if overdone, this book moves at the pace of a snail for really no reason. I could tell where the book was going, because this plot, a privileged member of society discovers the secret history of their world and gets involved in a rebellion, is fairly common, but the end of this book is around when the initiating event would be for most other stories. Most of this book was about developing the relationship between Poppy and Hawke, which was important, but I feel like I sat through the same conversation, over and over. By the time the thing with the duke happens, I was desperate for literally anything to occur.

I would say the thing that kept me reading this book was the worldbuilding. It took way too long for things to be explained, but when they did it was quite interesting. Also, I'm always down for a story where organized religion is the villain. If this book were not so popular and didn't have some fairly interesting worldbuilding (on top of the fact that a friend of mine encouraged me to read it), I probably would've DNF'd it.

Characters 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

I'd say the characters are probably the strong point of this book. While Poppy is a very typical protagonist (mildly naive, headstrong, and kind), she is characterized well. Her thoughts and actions reveal a lot about her with more showing than telling, which is an issue in more books than it should be. Also, despite the fact that this is a fantasy romance, Poppy does have genuinely close connections to people other than the love interest.

While I have my issues with Armentrout's writing, she can definitely write romantic tension. The relationship between Poppy and Hawke is well-developed, and it's one of the few parts of the story where I was really into it. I was genuinely invested in the romance, which was a pleasant surprise. However, moments between them that weren't romantic, such as the more plot-focused or political moments...they weren't bad, but like I mentioned before, I think they had the exact same conversation at least four times throughout the course of this book.

I do wish there was some more nuance to the antagonists. The duke and that one creepy guy (I can't remember his name) were just so obviously and unapologetically evil, and once Poppy discovers the true history of this world it's so one-sided. It would be much more interesting if the antagonists had more depth to them. We almost got it with the duchess, but it's not nearly enough. Some of the time spent on inane, repetitive conversations could have been devoted to that.

Writing Style 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

Ok, I have some issues with JLA's writing, but there are things I like about it too. First, as previously mentioned, I really like the way Armentrout does romance. The tension is palpable, and she did a good job of developing the relationship. The way she does action is also quite good; once again, great tension, and while it is fantasy and a little dramatic, it also feels so easy to follow what's going on.

On the other hand, this book has a lot of mystery and political elements, and that writing is pretty awful. It's so heavy-handed, and everything is stated so obviously; I feel like Armentrout thought her audience was unable to pick up on context clues. While it didn't really affect the plot or anything, it definitely pulled me out of the story as Poppy kept stating the most obvious things, usually multiple times.

Also, there's the issue of the pacing. This book goes on for way too long in my opinion, and there's too little content for such a long book. Major events are too spread out, and too much time is spent on little details.

Overall 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10

This book, especially with what good things I'd heard about it, was mediocre. I will grant it a few things; the worldbuilding is intriguing, and the romance and action are well-written. However, it is twice as long as it needs to be, making it move at the pace of a snail, and the plot is very predictable. I quite like stories that critique organized religion, but some subtlety would be appreciated. The villains are so one-dimensional and obvious that it ruins the tension of the more political side of this book. It's alright, but I wouldn't lather this book with praise like it's been receiving.

The Author

Jennifer L. Armentrout: American, 42, also wrote Half-Blood, Obsidian, and Storm and Fury, owns a dog named Apollo

The Reviewer

My name is Wonderose; I try to post a review every week, and I do themed recommendations every once in a while. I take suggestions! Check out my about me post for more!

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 11] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words]3.9k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

One for The History Books - Chapter 11: Ripples You are curled up under Bradley's arm on the couch—the movie you were watching is almost over. You didn't exactly see much of it—you're not even sure which movie this is? It doesn't really matter either way.

You remember the important stuff. Bradley in low slung Navy sweatpants effortlessly twirling you through your living room to the soundtrack of the Breakfast Club. Him shamelessly taking a bite from your slice of pizza. His fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, skimming your thigh near your hipster shorts while watching TV and casually sipping his beer.

It doesn't even feel awkward—although you don't think you've had time to process anything enough to feel awkward about. Bradley makes things feel easy with his natural charm, and you are all too happy to go along with that.

“What time are you getting up tomorrow, sweetheart?”

His question shakes you out of your reverie.

“Oh, like 7?” You glance at your phone quickly, it's a little bit after 11 PM. It's not that late yet. You snuggle into him. “Why? Are you due back in Virginia Beach?”

“Not until Monday.” His words hang in the air for a moment too long.

“I mean - God,” You start before he can continue. “We're doing this whole thing ass-backwards anyway. Why don't you hang out here tomorrow while I'm at work, and we can go out after... or something? If you want.”

You clamp your mouth shut. Wow, like, all your good sense and morals just go out of the window where Bradley's concerned, eh? You are not ready for him to leave yet. What if this is a lightning in a bottle moment? Shouldn't you get to enjoy that for as long as you can?

“Is this a subtle hint that you want me to take you out on a date?” You can hear the mirth in his voice. You look up at his handsome face, grinning down at you.

Your face is growing hot. For all his sweetness, Bradley enjoys teasing and needling you a bit too much.

“Well, yeah, but it also just makes more sense this way.” You try to reply coolly, only partially succeeding, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction he can get a rise so easily out of you each time. You've fallen apart at his hands (and mouth...) multiple times now, you'd do well to try to save at least some of your dignity.

“Ah yes, it's the rational approach, of course.” Bradley's voice is sarcastic, as he pinches your thigh.

“And we've never been on a date.” You add, deadpan.

“I bought you ice cream.” He counters easily.

“That wasn't a date!” You wrinkle your nose in indignation. “That was a turn of fortune after a - oh fuck.”

You quickly sit up, pinching your nose. Shit, your nose has stopped hurting hours ago (more like you stopped thinking about it hurting), but it was clearly still sensitive. And that was a wrong move. Bradley doesn't waste time, and has grabbed you some kitchen towels, bunching them up and holding them under your nose.

“Is this why your sleeve was covered in blood?” The mirth has gone from his voice, he's calm but serious. You just make an affirmative sound, wanting the bleeding to stop quickly and not run down the back of your throat.

“Don't lean back, darlin' - tell me what happened?” He sounds concerned now. Okay, now you actually feel embarrassed. Because it's so stupid.

“I dropped a box.” You say tiredly, and your voice sounds muffled, as Bradley is still holding the wad of kitchen towels against your face. He's silent. He wants to laugh at you. You just know it.

“You dropped a box?” To his credit, Bradley's voice sounds neutral. You look at him from the corner of your eye—he's schooling his features, but you can just see in his eyes how much he's about to laugh at you.

“On my face.” You add, flatly.

“On your face.” He repeats slowly. “How?”

Is there no end to your torture?

“The shelf was too high. Don't laugh at me!”

That is of course the trigger that sets him off. Bradley, in his 6' and then some glory, is probably rarely too short for something. He's laughing at you heartily, still holding the towels to your face. You push his hand away, and get up off the couch.

“Fine, laugh at my pain and misfortune while I go wash my face.” You say haughtily, lightly slapping his shoulder. He playfully slaps your ass in return, still laughing. You yelp and laugh, too.

It's almost an hour later, after brushing your teeth, and you settle into bed together. You are exhausted, mentally and physically. As soon as you cuddle up, you feel your eyes falling close. It feels so nice.

For now at least, everything else feels far away. Work. Your busted car. The pit you would feel in your stomach when you'd lay in bed by yourself at night, where your insecurities and inadequacies would flow out until you felt you were drowning, is suddenly and thankfully absent.

If this really is just a lightning in a bottle moment, you fucking deserve it.

As you drift off, you don't notice Bradley stay awake, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's early morning when you walk up to the bus stop. You got yourself an extra large coffee to go, because pinching yourself definitely didn't wake you up. You were convinced you'd wake up in an empty bed this morning, alarm clock blaring, feeling worse than ever before because that was the clearest dream about him you ever had.

But instead, you got woken up by gentle kisses on your shoulder, hands traveling down your body... you blush taking a large sip of your coffee. Nope, those fingers wrapped around your throat and his voice in your ear—oh jesus fuck the bus is here.

You hop on quickly, clutching your coffee. You're going to have to keep your wits about you today. At least while cleaning the storage, there's not that much that can go wrong, unless you drop another box on your face. Getting there, however...

As the bus approaches your stop, you start feeling apprehensive. You have to walk the gauntlet getting to your department. The Pentagon rumor mill is hungry.

Hold your head high, smile and don't stop walking.

You keep the smile on your face as you greet the guards at the metal detectors, handing over your ID card. The guard leans over to you conspiratorially.

“So miss Williams, yesterday...”

“Was very warm.” You cut in quickly, smile still on your face. “Yeah, it's unseasonably hot—I'm looking forward to winter!”

You grab your stuff and start walking to the elevators with a firm pace, waving over your shoulder at the guards. Don't give them an inch. You dodge the next few attempts at interactions by forcefully changing the topic and high tailing out of the situation—your cheeks hurting from keeping the smile plastered on your face. Yeah. Cleaning the storage solo really doesn't sound so bad now.

The smile disappears off your face completely when you reach your office door to drop off your things. An obnoxiously pink post-it is stuck on the handle, with flourished handwriting simply stating:

You're welcome <3

Oh, God. No. How could you be so blind? How did Bradley get into your locked office yesterday? You were so preoccupied with him being there period, you didn't consider how he got there. And that he really wasn't supposed to be there. Part of your work is classified, which makes your office off-limits to outsiders. Hell, to most of the team, even.

He's really going to be the end of you, and not in the sexy way.

But first. Leanne. You need to stop that girl before she blabs. Or blabs more than she already did. You rush through the hall to the small kitchenette, where you hear the voices of your co-workers. As you turn the corner, you spot Leanne, leaning against the counter. The moment she sees you, a big smile spreads on her face.

“Leanne, with me. Urgently.” You say sternly. Her smile falters as she follows you. You don't bother to look at the surprised faces of the team as you march back out into the hall.

“Darcy—what happened? I thought you'd be happy!” She jogs up to you, face concerned.

Quickly looking around, you see the hall is empty.

“Are you trying to get fired, Leanne?” You hiss at her, voice low.

“What? - what are you talking about?” Leanne seems genuinely baffled. You just hold up the crumpled pink post-it.

“Did you let Lt. Bradshaw into my office?”

“Yeah...” She seems hesitant in admitting it, and you can see she is not comprehending the issue. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Such a good start to the day, such a headache it's turning out to be.

“Okay, Leanne, listen. Please.” You keep your voice level—there's no use in getting angry at someone who doesn't understand what they did wrong, although part of you kind of wants to strangle her right now.

“You cannot let people into my office when I'm not there. Ever. There is classified material in there, and it could get very serious.”

“I thought... he's an officer... and he said he was your friend.”

You don't miss that Bradley apparently referred to you as his friend. Filing that information away for later to pester him about, you just sigh.

“I know you know better than that.” You look at her, still stern—she looks genuinely scared. “A uniform and a pretty smile don't mean anything for security clearance—don't let people into my office when I'm out, and for the love of all that's holy, don't tell anybody about this, okay?”

She nods, eyes downcast. You might not have taken the most diplomatic route, but this urgently needed to get nipped in the bud.

“Keep your head screwed on straight, Leanne.” Advice you should really be taking yourself, but you are trying to be kind to her. “Just focus on doing your job.”

Again, advice well suited for you too. Leanne nods sadly. You pat her on the shoulder to encourage her. You are curious what kind of tale Bradley spun poor Leanne, because she might be impulsive, but this is kind of a lot, even for her.

But then again... it's not like you behaved rationally after he showed up looking like a cool tall drink in those service khaki's. Underpinned by the fact that Bradley was asleep in your bed this morning, naked, when you left for work. Can you really judge?

You both start walking back to the kitchenette, and Leanne seems to regain some pep in her step again.

“So you and Lt. Bradshaw are-” Leanne flashes you a cheeky grin. Of course, her curiosity got the better of her.

“If you dare finish that sentence,” You cut her off firmly, voice forcibly light. “So help me god.” 

“Duly noted.” Leanne nods solemnly and ducks back into the kitchenette. You don't miss her wink at you as she wishes you a good day. This is promising to be a long day.

You slink back to your office, hoping not to run into anyone else. Check email, hide in storage room, wait for the day to end. Turning on your computer, you sink back into your chair. Best to get this done quickly.

You enjoy the relative quiet of your office as you focus on firing out emails. A bit too focused, perhaps.

“So are you to tell Birch yourself, or shall I do the honors?”

You look up. Riks is casually leaning against the doorway, looking like a cat that got the cream. Great.

“About what?” You don't bother to smile or go out of your way to be polite. Best to have him spit out what hell has got him going this morning, so you can avoid him for the rest of the day—or time, preferably.

But he just stands there, an almost scary smile on his face. Your stomach twists, but you keep your face neutral.

“Oh, I don't know.” He waves his hand, clearly enjoying having the upper hand in the situation. “Something about inappropriate relationships, withholding evidence to cover for your paramour....”

Paramour? Ew.

“Did you rehearse this?” You ask tiredly. Don't take the bait. A short flash of anger passes over Riks' face. Hah, that got to him.

“Nice deflection Williams.” He bites out. “But you're not denying it.”

“Denying what?” Spit it out already, Corporal Cunt.

“You withheld that incident report about Bradshaw starting a fight because you were sleeping with him, and he wouldn't get washed out of the mission.” Riks accuses you, tone steely.

You stare. Your brain seriously not comprehending where Riks is going with this. Why would you withhold that report (which wasn't relevant, and no one was punished over the indecent) so Bradley could go on a mission that could kill him— and nearly did, actually —because you were sleeping with him? Just. What?

“You should get fired over this.” He concludes. “And you will.”

“You are... insane.” You exclaim in disbelief, barely stopping yourself from laughing. “Jesus, how long have you been working on that theory? It's flimsy, even for you.”

“You're still not denying it.” He gloats undeterred. “And about the whole DoD knows about the Naval aviator that picked you up here yesterday.”

You roll your eyes obnoxiously. “And then what? It's been over three months since I recused myself. Hardly a breach of ethics.”

“Perhaps, but why did you recuse yourself?”

Shit, you might have overplayed your hand there. Stay calm. Riks doesn't have proof of anything. He wouldn't drag this out otherwise; he would have gone straight to Birch months ago. If he had anything solid to go on based on Bradley being here yesterday, he would not stop to gloat. He's fishing for evidence because he sees an in. Play it cool.

“You don't rate that information.” You brush him off, shrugging lightly. “That's between me and the boss.”

“I don't rate -” Riks scoffs loudly. “You sure like talking the talk, without having walked the walk.”

“Because you have?” You retort, getting annoyed now. Not this again. You don't belong here because you are civilian, bla bla bla. “You're working in the same place I do Riks, for as long as I have—only difference is you went to boot camp. So you can cut the crap after all these years.”

Riks suddenly storms up to your desk with such speed and anger, rage etched on his face, you are convinced he's going to punch you. You jump out of your chair and stumble back, actually scared now. That clearly hit a sore spot. He circles around your desk like a predator, seething.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch.” Riks is still stalking up to you, fist balled at his side. You almost trip backwards over your bag that you left on the floor. This is the time you need to stand your ground. He is trying to intimidate you. Don't let him. You are terrified he's actually going to take a swing at you—you've never seen Riks this mad. But he wouldn't. Would he?

“You are so fucking pathetic.” In your panic, you are near yelling just to compensate for how completely freaked out you are. “You have the whole prestige project to yourself, but you are so incredibly inept, you still come after me.”

Cheeks burning and eyes blazing, you plant your feet. You are not going without a fight. You endured years of bullshit with Riks, him cutting at your confidence, undermining you, and being plain rude under the guise of jokes. And you took it all with a smile, never wanting to take the bait. But now you will, and you're going to strangle Riks with the line.

“How incompetent are you, exactly?!” You are screaming now. “You have no proof, an insane theory not worthy of critique, and all you've done is waste time looking for a way to undermine me!”

“Because you don't deserve to be here!” Riks is yelling back at you, red in the face. “You fucked your way in, and you are using Bradshaw to fuck your way up!”

“What the- you are completely fucking unhinged! On what plane of reality-”

The door to your office flies open with such a bang it rattles the painting on your wall. You yelp. Riks quickly straightens up, still seething.

Birch is standing in the doorway, hands folded behind his back and a look that spells thunder. You are stunned into silence, swallowing dryly. Riks opens his mouth to speak, but Birch just shakes his head as he marches into your office, looking back and forth between both of you.

“This is the second screaming match in your office in two days, Williams.” Birch remarks, voice entirely too calm for his demeanor. You lower your eyes, knowing better than to speak up now. There's really nothing you can say anyway, because his statement is true.

“It would behoove both of you to behave like professionals and set an example befitting your role.” His voice booms through the room, leaving no room for argument. Shit, this is so embarrassing. The whole department probably heard you. Twice.

He stops in front of Riks, who is standing to attention nervously.

“You.” He prods Riks in the chest with a finger, voice steely. “If you ever suspect someone of misconduct, you follow the chain of command, which means you come to me.”

Riks opens his mouth again to speak.

“Shut the fuck up, Corporal, I don't want to hear it.” Birch continues without missing a beat. “Under no circumstance, you start investigating and accusing people on your own team like a piece of shit. Everything goes through me.”

Riks nods.

“Dismissed, Corporal.” Riks, stubborn to the bone, looks like he wants to say something again. “Get the fuck out of here!” Birch orders loudly, his booming voice filling the whole room again. You feel like the soundwaves are physically pushing you back.

Riks hightails out, not sparing either of you another look.

“And you.” Birch thunders as he legs it up to you, his fingers pointing in your face. You flinch back.

“Unfuck yourself.” He hisses. You blanch.

“Unfuck yourself from whatever tailspin that stick jockey has you in.” You flinch again, face burning in embarrassment, wanting to defend yourself, minimize the accusation, amend the circumstances.

“Fuck it out of your system, elope—I don't care how you do it. Quite frankly, I don't want to know.”

Your heart is beating in your throat. You don't think your face could get any redder. Did your boss seriously just say that to you?

“But you are going to show up on Monday, head clear, and you are going to do your job and not make your personal life a problem for me anymore.”

You look at Birch, nodding mutely. Shit. At least you're not fired? But this definitely ranks among the worst and most uncomfortable workplace conversations you ever had. Birch sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“A new senate committee is being formed to investigate a failed mission.” Birch looks up at you. “I recommended you as the lead archivist for that. Can you handle that?”

“Ye- yes, of course.” You stumble over your words. “Thanks boss.”

“Let me make one thing very clear. This is your first and final warning.” He thunders, looking at you sternly. “I catch you lying to me again, skating responsibilities, having another screaming match in the office—I might have to start taking an interest in the exact timeline of events between you and Lt. Bradshaw.”

“I understand, but please believe me-” You start hurriedly.

“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up already!” Birch exclaims angrily. “I just told you not to lie to me. And don't say anything that could potentially incriminate you, or worse, me. I don't want to know, and don't make me find out.”

Stunned, you nod. Was Birch really going to let this whole thing slide by just having you never mention it? Could you really be that lucky? That would take all ammunition out of Riks' hands (not that he had much to begin with...).

“Thanks again boss. I'll finish up in the storage today.” You say softly, forcing a smile on your face.

Birch puts his hand in his pocket and shakes his head.

“Go home for the day, Darcy.” He sounds tired. “Go figure out your shit, and come see me Monday first thing for the senate committee.”

“Will do. Have a good weekend.” You smile a little wider. Birch looks like he needs a stiff drink. You could use one too after the morning you've had. He bids you goodbye, and marches out of your office. You hear him mumble something about 'fucking kids these days'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is only a little bit before noon when you barrel into your apartment. Your brain is in complete overdrive. You need a drink. No, you need to lay down. No, splash some water in your face. A large coffee and a pint of ice cream. Something, anything to stop the million different thoughts running crazy through your head.

Loudly dropping your bag next to your shoes in the hall, you let out a loud exasperated sigh as you walk into the living room, rubbing your face.

“Oh shit, how long was I asleep?”

You stop dead in your tracks. Bradley. He's on sprawled out on the couch, rubbing his face. Was he asleep there?

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” You smile softly.

“No, it's fine.” He says, yawning. He looks adorable when he's so sleepy—hair mussed up, voice thick. “What time is it?”

“Like noon.” You shrug as you walk up and sit down next to him. Bradley pulls you against him, tucking your head under his chin. You close your eyes for a second. This is good. Just focus on this.

“How come you're back already?” Bradley's hand is rubbing circles on your back. “Are feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” You mumble, suddenly embarrassed. It feels really weird to admit that you have been sent home to, as your boss put it, unfuck yourself.

“Are you skating because you want to go on a date really bad?” Bradley teases. You giggle despite yourself.

"No, this was sanctioned." You reply vaguely. Should you tell Bradley?

You sit up and regard him for a moment. He has a right to know, you concede. You suppose you'd want to know if he were dealing with something similar.

“Darlin', what's going on?” Bradley's face turns serious. You crack a smile.

“It's kind of a long story, but it comes down to my boss telling me to either fuck you out of my system or marry you.” Bradley's eyes widen, and you let out a nervous giggle. “In short, I need to unfuck myself before Monday.”

There's a moment of silence. Was that too much? Did you make it really awkward now?

Then Bradley bursts out laughing. You decide then and there it's your favorite sound in the world. Chuckling softly, you rub your forehead.

“I'm going to make us some coffee, babe.” You smile as you get up. “And then I'll tell you how I got into this mess, so you can laugh at me some more.”

Maybe this day will still turn out okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] next chapter will be the date-time! Living for all the amazing comments I have been getting <3 you guys are the absolute best.

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[sirikenobi12]

I am worried that after the last response you’ll just respond with more ablei and make fun of me again, however I’m really hoping you’ll consider being kind instead. Please try to remember that not everybody processes things in the same way or perceives tone and behavior the same way, and please also just open your heart a little and consider that many people have very legitimate reasons to be wary of authority figures. Instead of telling us what worthless failures who will never amount to anything and we won’t make it i. adulthood, please consider that maybe not everyone had Good experience is with authority figures. Try having compassion for others, like the best of the Jedi would. So I’m gonna try this again.

Even if somebody argues that being cold to Anakin when they first meet him as a nine-year-old is justified, once his training was started and he did become a Jedi, how come he He wasn’t ever shown the same empathy and support that other Jedi showed each other? It seems like the only one who consistently cared about him was Obi-Wan, meanwhile we do see how warmly the other Jedi interact with each other. Why didn’t anyone except Obi-Wan ever treat him that way?

So, I am not asking this to be condescending or to make fun of your questions/opinions, I am asking this because I want to know from your point of view where you actually see examples of the Jedi not treating Anakin with empathy in Canon material, or at least can you please provide me with specific moments where other Jedi were treated with different or better empathy than Anakin? Because I can provide numerous examples where Anakin was included and encouraged and cared for by more than just Obi-Wan. But I'd like to see where you are coming from and what shaped your opinion on this (legitimately I am curious).

Here are my top 10 examples, but maybe you see these scenes differently than I do.

Example #1: AOTC. Obi-Wan confides in Mace and Yoda that he doesn't think Anakin is ready for an assignment on his own and both Mace and Yoda tell Obi-Wan to have faith in his apprentice.

Example #2: AOTC. Anakin slaughters the Tuskens after his mother dies and both Mace and Yoda have tears in their eyes when they sense Anakin's pain. Neither one talk about how dare Anakin feel something, they seem worried about him.

Example #3: AOTC. Yoda literally lets Dooku escape in order to save both Anakin and Obi-Wan from being crushed - thus throwing away their chance of stopping the war before it began.

Example #4: TCW. Anakin is invited to join in many meetings and meditations with the Council even though he is just a Knight (such as finding the kidnapped children).

Example #5: TCW. Mace works with Anakin quite often, and they are on friendly teasing/joking terms with one another (much like Anakin and Obi-Wan). Mace is high ranking enough that if he truly hated Anakin he wouldn't have to work with him.

Example #6: TCW. Plo Koon helps guide Anakin through Ahsoka's disappearance and encourages him to have faith she'll survive because of the training he instilled in her.

Example #7: TCW. Both Yoda and Mace feel Obi-Wan is wrong to lie to Anakin about his "death". They don't like his choice to deceive Anakin because they know it would hurt Anakin deeply.

Example #8: TCW. Yoda requests Anakin's help and states that his independent thinking is what makes him special. Yoda also in his vision decides to save Anakin rather than defeat Sidious.

Example #9: ROTS. Yoda takes time from the busy war to sit down with Anakin and talk about his dreams and feelings. He tries to guide Anakin through learning to let go of his attachments just as he would any other Jedi.

Example #10: Mace tries to protect Anakin by telling him to stay behind from arresting the Chancellor. He even says "for your own good". If Mace didn't care about Anakin he would've made sure to bring him along, cause wouldn't the Chosen One be helpful in defeating the Sith? But he cared about what that would do to Anakin.

----

I hope this answer was a little more understanding than my previous one. I am always happy to discuss Star Wars and the Jedi with people, I'd love to know what you think about the examples I gave.

Again, I have a very different perspective on this story than most I think. I was 19 when TPM came out (much closer to Obi-Wan's age) so I didn't grow up with Anakin, TBH I never ever saw him being a victim of Jedi neglect or cruelty. I've also been in a leadership role since I was 25 years old - I have been the brunt of employees yelling at me because I would have to write them up for excessive tardies or because they were rude to customers. I had to find a way to draw the line between being a Manager and being a friend - it is not an easy line to draw. So, perhaps it's easier for me to see the Council's side of things because I understand sometimes leaders have to make choices that aren't popular, the Jedi Council is no different in that sense.

But I can see where you're coming from, can I ask for the same respect in return? Maybe you've had bad experiences with authority figures, but not every one is going to be like that...there are good ones out there who do care.

Thank you for the discussion! And thank you for your time.

May the Force be with you!

[its-captain-sir]

BATTALION BREAKDOWN

Alright y'all, here it is, my breakdown of what I think a GAR battalion SHOULD look like. Full disclaimer before we get into it: I tried to research this stuff on wookiepedia as best I could but 1. there wasn't a ton of information out there on some of the things I had questions about and 2. some of it just makes No Sense when you put it together, so a lot of these numbers were made up by me and what I thought made sense based on what we see in the show and just simple logic. Feel free to accept/ignore parts as you please! Also, I'm gonna try to explain the rationale behind certain things as I go along but if you have any questions about this, you can send an ask/reply/reblog this post with your question and I'll do my best to answer it :)

Now that all that's out of the way, here's all the actual info beneath the cut.

Basic Organization

Essentially, the GAR breaks down into four tiers at this level: battalions, companies, platoons, and squads.

Battalions are the largest groups with 576* members and are all numbered, such as the 501st, 212th, 104th, etc. The only exceptions to the numbering convention are the Rancor Battalion that guards Kamino and the Coruscant Guard. Personally I believe that both of these should be double, if not triple, the size of a regular battalion, which could potentially explain the difference in names. Battalions are led by a clone commander and Jedi general + a padawan commander if the Jedi has one. 4 companies make a battalion.

Companies consist of 144 members and are all named. Using the 501st for example, this would be Torrent, Tide, Wave, and Typhoon. Note: Torrent, Tide, and Wave are canon/widely accepted fanon, but Typhoon is something me and my friends came up with. You're welcome to use the name as the fourth 501st company in your wips if you want! The names don't have to be related, but my guess would be that they often are. Companies are led by a captain.** 4 platoons make a company.

Platoons consist of 36 members and are simply referred to as the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or 4th platoon under their company. Platoons are led by a Lieutenant. 4 squads make a platoon.

Squads consist of 9 members and are named. I don't have names for any 501st squads unfortunately, which is why those spaces are left blank in the picture. As a content creator, you'd have a LOT of freedom when it comes to these because there's so many within a battalion and it seems like they can be named just about anything. Squads are led by a sergeant.

*Numbers for this and subsequent numbers in this section were taken directly from wookiepedia

**One problem people tend to have with this is that Rex is a captain, and yet he seems to be in command of all of the 501st. I think most people have figured this out already but the clone wars writers really just threw names around willy-nilly when it came to all the military stuff. Rex should by all intents and purposes be a commander, and my personal in-universe explanation for this is that while he was skilled enough to go through ARC/command track training, he wasn't originally meant to be a commander and his CT number is what barred him from the title initially. Keeli would be another example of this.

A few comparisons just to illustrate it a bit better:

1 battalion = 4 companies = 16 platoons = 64 squads = 576 members

1 company = 4 platoons = 16 squads = 144 members

1 platoon = 4 squads = 36 members

1 squad = 9 members

Please note that these numbers do not include the officers. There would be 64 sergeants, 16 lieutenants, 4 captains, and a commander added to this number to make a total of 661 clones in any given battalion.

Now I could have just stopped here but I have a tendency to want to get way too specific in my wips so I went a little further:

Internal Battalion Assignments

To make the numbers a bit easier, this just looks at what would be found in one company, you can do the extra math if you want to know the full battalion numbers.

I tried my best to remember what kind of specialized troops showed up in the show since wookiepedia wasn't much help, and I ended up breaking these assignments down into medics, heavy gunners, ARF and tank operators, scouts, tech specialists, and standard infantry.

Medics total 16* within a company, one for each squad. Within the medical corps, they're further broken down into junior medical officers (JMO), medical officers (MO), senior medical officers (SMO), and the chief medical officer of the battalion (CMO). Any internal promotions would probably come from the CMO, maybe a SMO on occasion. When pertaining to medical issues, they do often outrank any other officer, but in combat, JMOs and MOs only hold the rank of private (underneath sergeant) and SMOs and the CMO hold the rank of major (between sergeant and lieutenant).

Heavy gunners total 16 within a company, again one for each squad. These are the clones who have been trained to use the Z-6 rotary blaster, like Hardcase and Hevy.

ARFs and other tank operators total one platoons-worth spread throughout a company, or 36 members. ARF troopers are the ones who drive the AT-RTs (the really bouncy walkers you can see used on Ryloth and Umbara) and other tank operators encompass, well, the operators of all the other ground vehicles we see used. The ratio of each of these seems like it could be fluid based on the needs of the battalion and their mission, so I didn't go too much further into this.

Scouts total two squads-worth spread throughout a company, or 16 members. To me it makes sense that one of the lieutenants within their company would specifically deal with their recon reports, simply because it's more organized and practical.

Tech specialists total one squads-worth spread throughout a company, or 9 members. Honestly this is where I grouped anything else left over, like the bomb squad members we see in the blue shadow virus episode, any slicers, etc.

Standard infantry totals the remaining 49 members in a battalion. They're strictly the fighting force on the ground. This doesn't mean that they're the only ones who do the actual fighting, just that they aren't specifically trained for any other specialization.

*These numbers and the subsequent numbers in this section were not taken from any canon source. They were calculated simply by what I thought would make sense to have.

LAAT/is and Starfighters

Again, I tend to be way too specific in my wips so not only did I go through all of the ground fighting force, but I started figuring out the some of the space forces attached to a battalion as well. This doesn't go into a ton about the Republic Navy because frankly, as soon as I read "7400 crew members on a star destroyer" I exited out of that tab cause that's a little Too Much to try to figure out, but I will cover how I think the gunships and fighter squadrons should work.

LAAT/is (gunships) total 48 per battalion, or 12 per company. However, two per company are usually held in reserve to make sure there's always something available for easy transport to/from the ground. This brings down the number to 40 per battalion, or 10 per company. Gunships take two people to man, so the total number of those pilots for a battalion is 96, or 24 for a company. There's also room for two gunners, which would bring the battalion total to 192, but from what I remember in the show the side guns rarely have someone in them, so I don't think the full 96 LAAT/i gunner positions would be filled. I also think the LAAT/i gunners could be temporarily reassigned from the main star destroyer crew (because 7400 is a LOT, they can spare 96). Wookiepedia said that the gunships could hold 30 troops for transport, but that seems like it'd be really cramped quarters. My guess is that each one would hold somewhere between 14-17 comfortably depending on how many people need transport and how many gunships are in use, which is what I kept in mind to come up with the original number of 48 for a battalion.

The Starfighter Corps consist of 5 separate squadrons, the standard* being two squadrons of Y-wings, one squadron of V-19 Torrents, one squadron of Z-95 Headhunters, and one squadron of ARC-170s. There are 12 in a squadron, plus a squad leader and two usually in reserve, so that's 15 total ships in a squadron and 75 total ships overall. Y-wings require a pilot and a gunner, so the total number of members in a battalion's starfighter corps equals 105. However, I believe some battalions could have up to double** these numbers if they're frequently in space battles, like Anakin and the 501st, or if they have a name that suggests it, like the 327th Star Corps. Squadrons seem to often be named after colors, but that isn't always the case, ie. Shadow Squadron.

*This standard isn't canon, it's just what I believe makes sense based on the number of ships types available and how frequently they are seen used in the show. The Y-wing bombers seem to be used a bit more than the rest, which is why I think there would be two squadrons of them.

**While double the number of ships is certainly possible, I figure it's more common to have three more squadrons instead of the full five so there would be two squadrons of each type of ship.

~~~

That's all I got! Like I said earlier, use whatever you like, ignore the parts you don't, it doesn't really matter to me. This system is definitely what I'm going to follow in my wips if anyone is ever curious about what's going on with those.

Hopefully this is helpful to someone out there! And if you made it this far, thanks for reading! :)

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

[lizamango]

Finding You (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 6/?

A/N: Hi loves! Long chapter ahead! Watched Shang-Chi this weekend and wowowowowow go see it if you haven’t!! 

We are now in the AGE OF ULTRON phase; I wanted to finally start building the foundations of your friendship with Wanda this chapter! 

And Agents of Shield cameos!

Summary: You’ve been one of SHIELD’s top spies for years but what happens when the organisation you’ve put your trust in crumbles and Captain America gives you a mission to help him find his best friend? The last thing you expected to happen was to fall in love with your assignment and become best friends with a witch.

Taglist  ~ just comment if you wanna be added

@buckylokisimp​​, @white-wolf-buckaroo​​, @austynparksandpizza, @markandlexies,  @yaszx​

Word Count: 2705

Masterlist

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Warnings: cursing, slowest fucking burn oml

Chapter Summary: You meet the Maximoff twins and the Avengers on your search for Sergeant Barnes.

Chapter 6:  I’M NICE TO MEET

“Another bust,” I say into my comms as Fitz, Johnson, Ward and I exit the base, leaving knocked out or restrained HYDRA agents for the local authorities to find.

“Copy that,” Fury replies.

“You know, this is like… we’re vigilantes, right? This isn’t legal anymore? We have no jurisdiction anywhere,” Fitz says.

“SHIELD did what SHIELD wanted,” I shrug. “Now it’s our turn.”

“That’s true, SHIELD never followed the rules, not even their own,” Daisy added.

“Excuse me, did you forget that you were on the line with the Director of SHIELD?” Fury defends.

I chuckle. “You mean former right? Because Fitz has a point, if we get caught we go to jail too.”

“Well, good thing we still have access to a quinjet,” Fury says as he lands right in front of us.

“Very smooth,” we climb in as the ramp comes down and take a seat. I sigh, “gone are the good ol’ days.”

“I never even got to experience them,” Daisy shrugs.

“They weren’t that great for us. She had it good, being Level 7,” Grant comments.

“You’re Level 6! I’m still Level 4!” Fitz exclaims, offended.

“The system collapsed when SHIELD fell, I can make you unofficially Level 10 if you’d like?” I offer as I go to the mini fridge to take out a… “who ate the mozzarella and prosciutto wrap?” I say, closing the door and looking at everyone disappointedly.

“Wasn’t me,” Daisy and Grant say.

My eyes shift to Fitz. “I’m sorry, did it have your name on it? Because it didn’t so…” I pick up an apple and throw it at him. “Ow ow ow what the hell!”

“Behave,” we hear May through the comms.

“Sorry, May,” we all say as we take out seats, buckling up to meet Fury.

He’s typing away at the computer when we enter his makeshift underground office. It’s still hard to get used to being based here and not some fancy DC high rise.

“We’ve stormed two bases and found nothing. The Avengers have cleared four and they haven’t found the sceptre either,” Daisy recounts.

“There has to be something we’re missing,” Fitz says.

“We have two computer geniuses, tactile and operations experts and we can’t find a magical space stick,” I say, frustrated but this mission isn’t the only thing on my mind. It’s been almost a year since Steve asked Sam and I for help and we still haven’t found anything solid. The HYDRA bases haven’t revealed anything helpful either.

“On a lighter note, HYDRA is six bases down! I see that as an absolute win,” Fitz smiles.

“I’d say you all take a break. I’ve not found anything as of yet so… go back to your lives for a little bit. I’ll send directives if I find anything,” Fury orders.

“You know… you’re not the boss of us anymore, right?” I raise a brow.

“You’re dismissed.”

I go home with the intention of getting some rest but there’s something grating at my mind. It seems too easy that we’ve taken down six bases in the span of a year after HYDRA had been hiding in the shadows for decades… I go to my laptop and map out where each base was found. Huh… They arrange in a line of six and when the order of discovery is taken into account it seems that each base gets farther and farther away from one country. Sokovia.

I pack a bag with disguises that I still kept around, a photostatic veil and more subtle weapons in the place of guns. Time to go into the belly of the beast.

I look at my phone and assume the identity of a scientist that I see is on her way into the base. Before she gets too close I knock her out with a an electric disc. I drag her unconscious body to a place with cover and scan her face with my phone, syncing it up with my photostatic veil. Once it uploads, I put it on my face which has now taken hers. I style my hair similar to hers and replace my clothes with hers. I tie her up but inject her with a sedative that should last long enough for me to gather intel. I go through her bag and read through her diary and tablet to see where she should and shouldn’t be, to prevent suspicion.

I sigh. “Ideme na to,” here we go, I practice my Sokovian.

I enter the base. Doctor Kovak seems to be reporting to sub-level 3 according to her diary. I follow the signs quietly but the staff here seem to be too busy with their own tasks to mind me.

“Doctor Kovak,” I turn to the source of the voice. Wolfgang von Strucker, of course. “How are the test subjects?” he asks.

“I’m checking on them now, Herr Strucker,” I respond. He nods and gestures for me to walk with him. He leads me to two rooms with one sided glass. HYDRA’s still experimenting on people… There’s a man in the cell to the left who looks healthy enough and a woman in the cell next to him, sat on her knees looking at blocks of wood. I raise a brow but take out Dr. Kovak’s tablet, tapping around to find something.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?”

I find a tab on SUBJECTS and tap it, leading me to 16 more tabs labelled FAILURES but two SUCCESSES. This brings me to the Maximoff twins, Pietro and Wanda. The doctor’s newest entry was from last night. “The male has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis,” I say. “His vitals look normal, for someone going through this,” I add as I look to the monitor on the wall of his side. “The female has exhibited abilities of telekinesis.” I stop myself from frowning… they’re human?

“Keep an eye on them. I want to know more. I want to know how they survived the powers of the sceptre while many others did not. What makes them special, doctor? We are running out of bases to feed the Avengers.” He walks away before I can acknowledge his orders.

So the sceptre is here and they were just trying to keep themselves out of our radar. My stomach sinks slightly in disappointment as there was the possibility that what HYDRA was hiding was Barnes… maybe he’s still free then. Hopefully.

I look at the twins files for more information on why they would volunteer for such experiments. Native Sokovians, orphaned at ten years old and only having each other since then. I look up and notice that Wanda is staring at me. Or, correction, she’s staring into my soul.

I need to find the sceptre but that can wait at the presence of two enhanced individuals that have chosen the opposing side.

I open Wanda’s cell. “Miss Maximoff,” I greet. “Good morning,” she doesn’t reply. “I just wanted to learn more about you.”

Her head tilts but she doesn’t say anything.

“What made you want to volunteer for this… program?” I ask.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I believe there is something special about you and your brother. We’ve of course taken biological samples but I like to take a more… holistic approach to find out more.”

She looks at me and I swear her eyes glow red.

“I just want to help.”

She blinks and her posture relaxes as if she believes me. “I lost everyone but my brother. There’s so much wrong with the world. We just want to change it.”

“That’s why you agreed to be experimented on?”

She nods. “My turn. What did you do to the real Dr. Kovak?”

I look up sharply. How could she possibly…? Wanda doesn’t seem to want to alert the other scientists and agents of my presence so I clear my throat and straighten up. “She’s safe. I just needed intel.”

Her brow raises. “On what?”

“Can’t ask me two questions in a row, Miss Maximoff.”

“I could just… read your mind.”

“You can do that?”

Her brow quirks as an answer. “Have you been withholding information from Strucker?”

“Yes.”

I hum at her honesty. “Good. You can’t trust him.”

“And I can trust you? A strange woman who is wearing someone else’s face and clothes,” she counters.

“Compared to anyone else here? Yes.”

She is about to say something but alarms sound. I leave the cell, closing the door with a last look at Wanda. I’ll get her out, I promise myself.

“What’s happening?” I ask, tucking the tablet away.

“We’re under attack.”

“Who?” Strucker asks.

“The Avengers.”

Shit. I sneak out and hear Strucker giving out orders. I find a server room and start downloading what intel I can about HYDRA’s plans and remaining strongholds for any clue on Sergeant Barnes’s locations and slip out. Rogers doesn’t need to know I was here with no back up.

The cold air greets me as I climb out of the base and start to discreetly make my way back to the town to catch a train to the next city to catch a flight back to DC

I feel someone behind me and I sharply turn, dodging their hold and kicking them in the knee by instinct. I stop when I see who it is. But he doesn’t as he goes in for a punch, I dodge and use his shield to propel myself backwards to get some distance between us.

“Steve! Don’t sneak up on a spy like that, you’re gonna get yourself killed.” I reach a hand down and he takes it as he gets back up on both feet.

He frowns under his helmet but there is no recognition in his eyes. I remember than the veil is still on my face so I peel it off and undo my hair.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” I shrug.

“Did you come in with a team?” he asks concerned as he places his shield on his back. “Y/N where is your team? Did you not have back up?”

“I went in alone, okay?”

“Why would you do that?” Someone in his comms must have spoken because he turns away briefly. “I’m dealing with something but south west is clear.”

“It was just intel retrieval. Nothing big.”

“It’s you vs HYDRA, that’s not enough. Did you even have an extraction plan?”

“I was gonna take a train to Bucharest and then a plane back to DC.”

He gives me a what the fuck were you thinking look. “You ride back home with us. But for now… care to join us?”

I smirk. “How could I refuse?” We enter the compound to take down more HYDRA agents. As Steve kicks down an agent Strucker runs into us.

“Baron Strucker. Hydra’s number one thug,” Steve says, circling the man.

“Technically I’m a thug for SHIELD,” he retorts.

“Well then technically you’re unemployed. Where’s Loki’s sceptre?”

“Don’t worry, I know when I’m beat. You’ll mention how I cooperated, I hope,” he surrenders immediately. Suspiciously.

I frown and see the flowing red eyes in the shadows.

“I’ll put it right under illegal human experimentation. How many are there-”

“Cap!” I warn but it’s too late as Wanda hits him with a red surge of energy that knocks him down the stairs.

I’m ready in case Wanda comes for me but she doesn’t, just exiting the place and closing the door behind her.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage,” Steve says into his comms as he runs back up the stairs.

“You’ll have to be faster than that–“ I hit Strucker with a disc and he convulses as he falls.

“I love those things,” I remark.

Steve chuckles then picks Strucker up. “Guys, I’ve got Strucker.”

“Want me to keep looking for the sceptre?” I offer.

He nods. “I’ll take Strucker, you find Tony. Nat and Bruce are still on the field but Thor and Clint are on the jet.” At my confused look it’s like he read my mind. “Clint got hurt. But he’ll pull through.” He turns into his comms. “Tony, Y/N’s coming to you.” Steve gives me his communicator and leaves with Strucker.

I go back to the level where the twins were to start looking for Stark.

“Mr. Stark this is Agent – well former agent Y/N L/N, are you able to give me your 20?”

“Well, I found the sceptre. Bringing it up with me now. I was at the south corridor and I found a secret doorway.” I follow where he says, remembering the map I saw on the tablet. “Nice to meet you, former agent.”

“I’m nice to meet, Mr. Stark.”

“I like you.” He taps something on his bracelet and his armour envelopes him.

“Is that it?”

“Yep. Pretty underwhelming, huh?” he seems out of breath… shaken.

“Are you alright, Stark?”

“I’m fine,” he responds all too quickly.

“Let’s get to the jet,” I follow the coordinates that Steve sent me on my phone and the Avengers are all there waiting.

Natasha smiles as she sees me. “What a surprise,” she says going in for a hug as Stark hands the sceptre to Thor and starts up the engine.

“Whatcha doin’ all the way out here?” Clint rasps.

“I could ask you the same thing old man,” I lightly joke, weary of his injury.

“Who you callin’ old? We got a thousand year old and a hundred year old on board.”

“Alright, ease up before you hurt yourself even more,” Natasha says as she gives him a sedative.

Once Clint was passed out and secure I take a seat with Nat next to me.

“So what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Same as you.”

Raising a brow she sighs. “Don’t tell me Fury’s still working you?”

“Of course he is. We have to take down the rest of HYDRA.”

“That’s our job, now.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you’re doing great just invading countries that already hate you and wrecking historical sites. Top notch spy work.”

“Not a spy anymore, Y/N and neither are you,” she retorts.

Steve enters our conversation, standing tall with his arms crossed. “What do you mean?”

“See, you don’t even do your research before you go in. What happened to knowing your enemy?” I ask them both.

“Last I checked our enemies were people we thought were friends so I think we know them pretty well,” Steve replies.

“The two enhanced?” I counter. “What do you know about them?”

“What do you?” Stark asks.

I smirk. “So nothing?” I pull out the tablet that miraculously did not take any damage. I turn it on and find the file on the twins. “They’re called the Maximoff twins; Wanda and Pietro. They were orphaned at 10 years old when a shell hit their civilian apartment in the Novi Grad Bombings. Sokovia has been in the middle of a rebellion for years now. They don’t like you guys very much. Wanda has… special abilities. Neuroelectric interfacing, telekinesis, mental manipulation,” at confused faces I simplify. “She can move things with her mind and read yours. The latter, she has kept from Strucker.”

“So how do you know about it?” Stark asks.

“Because I spoke to her,” I shrug. “I know she can read minds because she knew I wasn’t the doctor I took the identity of.”

“You got in proximity with them?”

I nod.

“You know how dangerous that is, Y/N? You could have gotten killed, going in there like that, all alone. Did anyone else know where you were?” Steve demands.

“Okay, one, I wasn’t alone, I had my weapons.” He rolls his eyes. “Two, that’s classified.”

“There isn’t a SHIELD anymore, Y/N. Information isn’t classified.”

“Then I’m not telling.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because you’ll yell at me.”

Steve presses two fingers on the bridge of his nose and huffs, knowing the answer.

“What about the other one? Pietro?” Stark asks.

“He’s just really fast.”

We land on the helipad at Stark tower and Helen Cho and Hill take Clint to patch him up. Steve asks about Strucker and we get the news that NATO has him and it’s all in all mission accomplished.

💖

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading everyone!