#i feel the values instilled in me by it are ones i would have arrived at on my own anyway.

[suraiiya]

sometimes i really really miss the feeling of belonging that the inner monologue of 'im muslim' affords but then i get a glimpse of people tearing each other apart and quoting shit about Lot and homosexuality and i reluctantly sink back to where i am.

[muiitoloko]

Like father Like Son

Summary: After all, Eli and Barkley had more in common than Eli realized.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Neglectful father, obsession, betrayal, manipulation, forbiden love and seduction.

Author's Note: ⚠️ PLEASE READ FOR CONTEXT ⚠️ In this one-shot, I've taken some liberties with the plot of the movie "Nobel Son." Certain events from the original storyline have been omitted or altered, particularly regarding the relationship between Sarah and Eli. In this version, Sarah and Eli separate shortly after Eli's Nobel Prize win, and Eli's subsequent efforts to improve his relationship with Barkley take precedence. Please, if I forgot to mention any warnings, let me know.

Second part here.

It had been a year since Eli parted ways with Sarah, the divorce coming on the heels of his Nobel Prize win. While some might have mourned the loss of a relationship, Eli couldn't care less about the divorce itself. Sure, he missed the morning sex, but the freedom to pursue his affairs without the need for secrecy outweighed any sense of loss he might have felt.

Sarah had taken half of his possessions in the settlement, but Eli didn't mind. Material possessions were inconsequential to a man of his stature. What did bother him, though, was the occasional pang of loneliness that crept up when he found himself alone in his grandiose home. Despite his vast network of acquaintances and lovers, there were moments when the emptiness of his surroundings felt suffocating.

His son Barkley's visits provided some semblance of companionship, but their relationship remained strained and fraught with tension. Eli made an effort to connect with Barkley, to bridge the chasm that had formed between them over the years. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment and frustration that accompanied his interactions with his son.

"Barkley is so idiot," Eli would mutter to himself, his tone dripping with disdain and resentment. In his eyes, Barkley was a disappointment, a failure who couldn't measure up to his father's lofty expectations. No matter how hard Eli tried to instill in him the values of ambition and success, Barkley always seemed to fall short.

But finally, Barkley seemed to do something right in life. One day, he announced to Eli that he wanted to introduce his girlfriend to his father and asked if they could go out to dinner. Eli reluctantly accepted, not at all interested in the prospect, but he went anyway, just wanting to have some semblance of fun amidst his mundane existence.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Barkley welcomed his girlfriend with a kiss, and Eli couldn't help but be enchanted. You was stunning, absolutely breathtaking. The dress you wore clung to your curves in all the right places, accentuating your beauty in a way that left Eli momentarily speechless.

"Oh, fuck," Eli muttered under his breath, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of desire and admiration. You was his type, completely and utterly, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from your.

Barkley smiled proudly as he introduced you to his father, Eli Michaelson, the Nobel prize winner. You blushed, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves at meeting such a renowned figure in the field of chemistry. For someone passionate about science like yourself, the opportunity to converse with a Nobel laureate was nothing short of surreal.

"Doctor Michaelson, it's an honor to meet you," you said, your voice tinged with genuine admiration as you extended your hand to him. Eli studied you with keen interest, his gaze piercing and intense as he took in your shy demeanor and flushed cheeks.

"The pleasure is mine," Eli replied, his voice smooth and confident as he shook your hand with a firm grip. "I must say, Barkley has spoken very highly of you. It's not often he brings someone home to meet his old man."

Barkley chuckled nervously beside you, his arm draped casually around your chair as he sought to bridge the gap between his father and his girlfriend. Despite the tension that lingered between them, Barkley seemed determined to make the evening a success, to prove to his father that he was capable of making his own choices in life.

As the three of you settled into dinner, Barkley made a concerted effort to keep the conversation flowing, ensuring that both you and his father were engaged and included in the discussion. You found yourself relaxing in his presence, his easy charm and infectious enthusiasm putting you at ease despite your initial nerves.

Eli, too, seemed to warm to the conversation, his usual air of arrogance giving way to a genuine interest in getting to know you better. He peppered you with questions about your academic pursuits, your interests, and your aspirations, his sharp mind probing for any hint of weakness or vulnerability.

But to Eli's surprise, you held your own admirably, your passion for chemistry shining through as you spoke animatedly about your research and your dreams for the future. Despite your shyness, there was a quiet confidence about you, a strength of character that intrigued Eli more than he cared to admit.

And as the evening wore on, Eli found himself increasingly drawn to you, captivated by your intelligence and charm. He couldn't understand how his idiot son had managed to find someone like you, someone who was clearly out of his league in every respect. You deserved better, someone who could appreciate you for the remarkable woman you were.

Eli's mind wandered, consumed by vivid fantasies of you writhing beneath him, your soft moans filling the air as you whispered his name in ecstasy. He could already picture the way your body would arch beneath his touch, the way your skin would flush with desire as he claimed you as his own.

But his reverie was abruptly interrupted by the sight of Barkley leaning into you, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered something that made you blush furiously. Eli's jaw clenched with barely concealed frustration as he watched the intimate exchange between you and his son, a surge of possessiveness coursing through him at the thought of Barkley touching you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Though he couldn't hear what Barkley was saying, Eli didn't need to. The way your cheeks flushed and your eyes darted nervously around the room spoke volumes, betraying the intimate nature of the conversation. It wasn't difficult to guess what Barkley was up to, most likely whispering something dirty in your ear to make you squirm and blush with embarrassment.

Eli's grip on his fork tightened involuntarily, the metal digging into his palm as he fought to suppress the surge of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm him. He had never been one to tolerate competition, especially not from his own son, and the thought of Barkley encroaching on his territory filled him with a primal rage that bordered on madness.

But even as his anger simmered beneath the surface, Eli remained outwardly composed, his expression carefully neutral as he observed the exchange between you and Barkley with detached interest. He didn't even notice when his grip on his fork tightened, the metal bending under the pressure of his fingers as he struggled to maintain his composure.

In that moment, all Eli could think about was you, and the overwhelming desire to possess you, body and soul. He would have you, one way or another, consequences be damned. For in the twisted mind of Eli Michaelson, nothing and no one would stand in the way of what he wanted most.

As the days passed, Eli found himself consumed by thoughts of you, the object of his desire. Your image lingered in his mind, haunting his waking hours and infiltrating his dreams. He longed to have you, to possess you in every way imaginable.

On the days when Barkley visited, bringing you along with him, Eli's anticipation soared to dizzying heights. Every moment in your presence was a precious gift, one he cherished and savored with every fiber of his being. Your laughter, your scent, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief—all of it fueled his insatiable hunger for you.

In the privacy of his lavish bathroom, Eli succumbed to his fantasies, unable to resist the temptation to indulge in the pleasure of imagining you with him. His hands roamed over his body, tracing the contours of his desire, as he conjured vivid scenarios in which you were his and his alone.

But with each passing day, Eli's longing intensified, morphing into an all-consuming obsession that threatened to consume him whole. He cursed the cruel twist of fate that had bestowed upon him such forbidden desires, lamenting the fact that he and Barkley shared the same taste in women.

It was during one of Barkley's visits that Eli finally made his move, unable to ignore the primal urge that pulsed through his veins. With a calculated blend of charm and cunning, he began to plant seeds of doubt in Barkley's mind, subtly sowing discord in the relationship between his son and you.

Perhaps, Eli mused, he and Barkley were not so different after all. Both driven by their desires, both willing to do whatever it took to claim what they wanted as their own. And as he watched the cracks begin to form in Barkley's facade, Eli felt a twisted sense of satisfaction wash over him.

As Eli entered the living room, his frustration simmered beneath the surface. He watched as you and Barkley engaged in lively conversation, your laughter filling the room with warmth. But his annoyance at being left to handle dinner alone gnawed at him, threatening to overshadow his growing infatuation with you.

"Hey, Barkley," Eli began, his tone tinged with irritation. "Could you lend me a hand with dinner? It seems I'm flying solo tonight."

Barkley shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry, Dad. I'm not exactly a culinary expert."

Eli's lips formed a thin line, but before he could respond, you intervened, your voice soft and apologetic. "I can help, Doctor Michaelson. I'm sorry for not offering sooner."

A flicker of amusement danced in Eli's eyes as he handed you an apron. "Ah, none of that 'Doctor Michaelson' nonsense anymore. Call me Mr. Michaelson. I've earned it," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You chuckled, the sound like music to Eli's ears, as you tied the apron around your waist. "Alright, Mr. Michaelson. What can I do to assist?"

Eli grinned, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of working alongside you. "First things first, we'll need to chop these vegetables. Care to lend me a hand?"

You nodded, following him to the kitchen and standing next to him, with graceful and fluid movements, Eli couldn't help but feel a wave of admiration for you. He took the opportunity to address the issue that had been weighing on his mind.

"So, how are things going between you and Barkley?" he asked, his voice casual yet tinged with curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, your expression guarded, before finally admitting, "We've been... having some disagreements lately. But I'm hopeful we can work through them."

Eli studied you intently, sensing there was more beneath the surface. "Are you sure about that?" he pressed gently, his gaze searching yours for any sign of deception.

You sighed softly, your shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Honestly, Mr. Michaelson, I'm not sure. But I'm willing to try."

A flicker of sympathy flashed in Eli's eyes as he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. "Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. And who knows," he added with a playful wink, "maybe we can make this dinner a regular occurrence. Just you, me, and a whole lot of vegetables."

You smiled, almost all your shyness disappearing around Eli. With each visit, you were starting to get more comfortable with him, but there was still a lingering sense of bashfulness. After all, Eli was a brilliant man, particularly in chemistry, and you couldn't help but admire the feats he had achieved so far.

As you continued cutting the vegetables, oblivious to how Eli was leering at your ass whenever he had the chance, you focused on the task at hand. But suddenly, he interrupted you, claiming that you were cutting them wrong. Before you could protest, he stood behind you and took hold of your hand that held the knife, instructing you on how he wanted the vegetables to be cut.

His presence so close behind you sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but blush at the sudden intimacy. His baritone voice rang in your ear as he guided your hand, his touch igniting a flurry of conflicting emotions within you.

While Barkley was tall with an athletic body, Eli was still tall but carried more weight, giving him a thicker, more robust appearance. His hands were large and thick, a stark contrast to Barkley's leaner physique. For a moment, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to have those hands caressing you, those thick fingers sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

But as quickly as the thought entered your mind, panic set in. What were you thinking? Eli was Barkley's father, and these thoughts were entirely inappropriate. With a sudden jolt, you pulled away from Eli, the knife slipping from your grasp as you stumbled backward.

"Oh my god," you stammered, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I-I'm so sorry, Doctor Michaelson. I didn't mean to... I mean, I..."

Eli's expression softened, a knowing glint in his eyes as he reached out to steady you. "It's alright, my dear. Accidents happen," he said reassuringly, though there was a hint of something else in his voice, something that made your heart race.

But as you regained your composure and resumed chopping the vegetables, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. The momentary lapse in judgment had left you shaken, and you made a mental note to keep your thoughts in check around Eli in the future.

Little did you know, however, that Eli had taken notice of your reaction and was already concocting a plan to exploit the newfound vulnerability between you. For in the twisted game of desire, there were no rules, and Eli was determined to emerge victorious at any cost.

As the days passed, Eli's subtle seduction of you continued, each encounter filled with tension and unspoken desire. He made it a point to subtly undermine Barkley, painting him as immature and unworthy of your affection, while positioning himself as the mature and understanding figure you needed in your life.

With each passing interaction, Eli's charm and charisma wore down your defenses, until finally, one fateful evening, the dam broke, and you found yourself succumbing to his advances.

It had been a particularly tumultuous day, filled with heated arguments and simmering tension between you and Barkley. As you sat alone at the restaurant, abandoned by Barkley after yet another fight. You sighed tiredly and paid for dinner, the weight of the evening's events pressing down on you as you gathered your belongings and headed out into the cool night air. The streets were eerily quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement.

With each step, your unease grew, amplified by the solitude of the deserted streets. The decision to walk home seemed increasingly ill-advised as the minutes ticked by, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Your pace quickened, heart pounding in your chest as you glanced over your shoulder, confirming your worst fears. Two shadowy figures lingered in the distance, their menacing gazes fixed on you like predators stalking their prey.

Panic surged through you, propelling you forward in a desperate bid to escape your pursuers. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to find safety at any cost, and you darted down side streets and alleyways in a frantic attempt to lose them.

But they were relentless, their footsteps echoing ominously behind you as they closed in with each passing moment. Fear gripped you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs as you raced against the clock, praying for a miracle to save you from the impending danger.

And then, just when it felt like all hope was lost, you saw him. Eli emerged from a nearby grocery store, a bag in hand, his imposing figure a beacon of hope in the darkness. Without a moment's hesitation, you rushed to his side, seeking refuge in his reassuring presence.

"Eli!" you called out, relief flooding through you as you practically threw yourself into his arms. He looked at you with confusion, concern etched into his features as he took in your shaken state.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern as he wrapped an arm around you protectively. You explained everything in a rush, the words tumbling from your lips as you recounted the harrowing ordeal you had just endured.

Eli listened intently, his expression darkening with each passing moment as he processed the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, he guided you to his car, a silent vow to keep you safe burning in his eyes as he ushered you inside.

As the engine roared to life and the car sped off into the night, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude towards Eli. In a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, he had become your unlikely savior, a pillar of strength in your darkest hour.

But as Eli drove, you didn't expect him to scold you, as his stern words catching you off guard. "Why the hell were you walking alone at a time like this? Don't you know how dangerous it is for a woman to walk alone at night?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you stammered to explain yourself. "I-I wasn't alone. I was with Barkley earlier tonight. We went out for dinner, but we ended up fighting again, and he left. I decided to walk back to cool down instead of picking up a taxi."

But your explanation only seemed to fuel Eli's frustration, his jaw clenched in anger. "I should teach Barkley better," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with disappointment. "I don't understand why you're still with him."

You looked at Eli in surprise, taken aback by his harsh words. "But... Barkley is your son," you protested weakly, unsure of how to defend yourself.

Eli shook his head, his gaze piercing. "That doesn't excuse his behavior. What kind of man leaves his girlfriend walking alone at night?" he demanded, his voice brimming with righteous indignation.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Eli cut you off with a sharp gesture. "Don't you dare defend Barkley," he warned, his tone icy. "It doesn't matter if he was angry or not. He should have at least had the decency to put you in a taxi before leaving. That's what a real man does."

Silence descended upon the car, punctuated only by the hum of the engine as you mulled over Eli's words. His conviction was unwavering, his belief in what constituted acceptable behavior resolute. And yet, despite your initial resistance, a nagging doubt crept into your mind.

Why couldn't Barkley be more like his father? The thought lingered in your mind, casting a shadow over your already troubled relationship with Barkley. Perhaps, deep down, you knew that Eli was right. Perhaps you did deserve better.

But as you glanced at Eli, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, you couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath the facade of charm and charisma. For all their similarities, father and son were cut from different cloth, each harboring their own secrets and desires.

"Eli," you began tentatively, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for looking out for me."

Eli's expression softened, a flicker of something akin to warmth in his eyes. "Of course," he replied, his tone gentler than before. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And as the car continued on its journey through the night, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker within you. Perhaps, in Eli, you had found not only a protector but also a confidant, someone who understood you in a way that Barkley never could. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was light at the end of the tunnel after all.

Eli stopped in front of your apartment, and you thanked him for the ride, grateful for his timely intervention. As you expressed your gratitude, Eli turned off the car engine and faced you, his expression serious yet tinged with a hint of concern.

"Be careful out there," he said softly, his hand resting on the passenger seat where you sat. "Tonight, you were lucky I was around. Thank my addiction to cigarettes and my sudden craving for ice cream, or who knows what could have happened to you."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest at the realization of just how close you had come to danger. "I... I don't know what I would have done without you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eli's gaze softened, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes. "I don't like to imagine what could have happened to you," he confessed, his tone tinged with genuine concern. "God, when did I start to care so much about you?"

Before you could respond, Eli leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a tender yet intense kiss. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you melted into his embrace, the heat of his touch igniting a firestorm of desire within you.

But as quickly as the kiss began, you pulled away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered, mortified by your own audacity. "That was so wrong..."

Eli's expression softened, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Don't apologize," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Before you could protest further, Eli silenced you with another kiss, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. This time, you melted into the kiss, surrendering to the intoxicating rush of desire that pulsed between you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt yourself getting lost in the moment, consumed by the overwhelming sensation of being wanted, of being desired. And in that fleeting moment of bliss, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there was something more between you and Eli than mere attraction.

But as reality came crashing back, you broke away from the kiss, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to compose yourself. "I-I should go," you muttered, fumbling with the door handle in a desperate bid to escape the suffocating intimacy of the car.

But Eli stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion you couldn't quite comprehend. "Stay," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just for a little while longer..."

And as you gazed into Eli's eyes, the lines between right and wrong blurred into obscurity, leaving you with a single, undeniable truth: that in the tangled web of desire, there were no rules, no boundaries, only the relentless pursuit of pleasure at any cost. And if that meant succumbing to the forbidden allure of Eli Michaelson, then so be it.

With a silent nod, you settled back into the passenger seat, allowing yourself to be consumed by the intoxicating heat of the moment. For tonight, at least, you were content to lose yourself in the arms of the man who had unwittingly captured your heart.

Eli wasted no time in continuing kissing you, his lips hungry and demanding as he explored every inch of your mouth with a fervent passion. He savored the taste of you, the intoxicating blend of sweetness and spice that lingered on your lips, driving him to the brink of madness with desire.

As their kiss deepened, Eli felt a surge of arousal coursing through him, his body responding eagerly to the forbidden pleasure of your embrace. He traced his tongue along the curve of your lips, teasing them apart with gentle insistence as he sought to devour you whole.

With each passing moment, Eli felt himself growing more addicted to the heady rush of euphoria that enveloped him whenever he was with you. Your touch was like a drug, igniting a firestorm of need within him that threatened to consume him whole.

As he trailed kisses along your jawline, Eli couldn't help but marvel at the sheer intensity of his desire for you. He had kissed many women in his lifetime, but none had ever elicited such a visceral response from him, none had ever made him feel so alive.

And as he lost himself in the dizzying whirlwind of sensation, Eli found himself wondering if perhaps this was why Barkley was always so drawn to you. Maybe, just maybe, there was something inherently addictive about you, something that left men like Eli craving more with each passing moment.

Yes, it was no wonder Barkley was always eager to kiss you. You were sweet and addictive, a tantalizing temptation that beckoned him closer with every breathless moment. Eli found himself almost amused by the realization that he and Barkley had more in common than he liked to think. After all, they were both drawn to you like moths to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your allure.

In that moment, as he reveled in the intoxicating bliss of your embrace, Eli couldn't help but acknowledge the undeniable truth: you held a power over him that he couldn't begin to comprehend. And as he surrendered himself to the irresistible pull of desire, he knew that he would do anything, risk everything, for just one more taste of the ecstasy you offered.

[dominickrohnpoetry]

Echoes of a Forgotten Past

An old birthday card I stumbled upon From what I'd guess, the late 90's The contents of which contained My Grandma's, err, my Nanny's handwriting

You see, she always wrote in cursive A knack she mastered in school A relic of a forgotten time One that I love and think is so cool

Seeing this, reading this, I pause Not realizing I'm smiling so much Happiness encompassing my body And soul equally as such

Because, endless memories They start to flood on through Both precious and detailed and Things I didn't remember that I knew

Like this one time my brother and I Were playing inside and didn't quite listen Broke my Nanny's big green frog A considerably bad decision

Because we took a paddling to our asses But we found that quite amusing Until we had to eat chili afterwards A different pain in the ass in the bathroom later we were using

I also remember how every Sunday My Nanny watched me play soccer I wasn't the best out there But that would never seem to stop her

From cheering me on because If I scored she'd give me a dollar And even if I didn't With pride she'd still hoot and holler

I recall days she'd pick me up From school at 3:35 right on the dot At Los Tules out on Gail Ave. with A silver Ford Taurus in the parking lot

And it wasn't just my Nanny but Sometimes my grandpa would be waiting In his old Orange Toyota Radio on, sitting there contemplating

Grandpa was always quiet But I loved to pick his brain He had endless knowledge That I eagerly wanted to gain

He used to build things In his garage with such joy He had a million different tools Those things were his toys

Speaking of which, the middle room Grandpa's collector's room, amazing Thousands of hot wheels cars Lined the walls, it was dazing

My Grandpa collected Hot Wheels For who knows whatever the reason His notepad had details for every car That he could find for every season

But perhaps the truest collectible Was my Grandpa's love for sports He loved his Lakers, Dodgers and Raiders But watched any game of sorts

I distinctly remember watching the Lakers 3 peat with my Grandpa in '02 I hadn't seen such joy from him ever But that's when I knew

My Grandpa was sharing not just His love for sports but his passion That seemed to awake in me From within and in a timely fashion

Fast forward to today I lament the days Grandpa would call Randomly but we'd talk about the Raiders And would end with baseball

And the conversations Would always last 45 minutes to an hour Those meant everything to me To relive those I'd give anything in my power

Nanny and Grandpa did so much for us growing up Boasted us with pride never to be hushed They were firm with discipline and Instilled so many values with love and with trust

Nanny and Grandpa were super heroes I loved and adored them to infinity And as time has aged them I love them with all from within me

As I will always continue to do so But time, it refrains to be kind Because it takes without asking And starts to affect the mind

And it's not like their memories Were once here but now gone I don't know when they last remembered Or if that time has been too long

But I do need to pay a visit It's been quite some time They live so close So there's no excuse of mine

I need to tell them I appreciate them More now while they are still here Who knows how long we have Because death comes for all I fear

I wish I was more appreciative And less expectant as a kid I need to tell Nanny and Grandpa I'm endlessly thankful for all that they did

I never truly considered what the word Nostalgia could have possibly meant It's the feeling of love and value With all of the time that was spent

It's that picture you see And instantly you arrive At the scene of a memory And instantly you're alive

And in that moment Life comes grinding to a halt You relish in that treasure You had stored in a vault

And part of you is happy And part of you is sad It's melancholy personified But for that you are glad

And this reroutes me Back to my final thoughts As the camera pans out of frame To share what I've brought

It's a shame we don't care more For those who are living Yet only after death Are our thoughts worth giving

We memorialize the dead Instead of when alive And when that becomes too late We're searching through archives

Time spent foraging and collecting Echoes of a forgotten past To create the perfect memorial We hope and believe to last

[mpsquared]

nothing was the same

The past three days have graced us with perfect weather; sunny, vibrant, lively, hot. There’s probably someone playing spikeball in an open field or running oklahomas at a beach rn. For me, I am currently sobbing my eyes out, replaying the past week in an endless loop in my head.

My home has shattered into 20 different pieces, scattered globally. While a bit cliche, Taft wasn’t just the buildings and campus that made up its physical location. What you see behind the subjects of each picture may just look like brick and grass, but I assure you, they were brimming with life at every corner. Everyone in my junior year English class, my 3rds basketball team, and those who were in my room are all Taft. I genuinely have no doubt in my mind that if you were to point out any place on campus, I would be able to tell you a special memory I had in that exact spot. Taft is woven into my being.

These past four years, I have enveloped myself in all that is Taft. I slept there, I ate there, I tried out basketball for the first time, and I think most importantly, all of my friends, mentors, and second parents were all from Taft. Although it is the natural progression to leave any highschool after you’ve completed their curriculum, to me, it still feels premature. It feels as though a second identity has been stripped from me; a secret “second life” that I won’t be able to recover. And for that, I hate Taft.

I hate that they pushed me out of my shell, allowing this little Minecraft nerd to have a basketball group chat to substitute how he spends his free time. I hate that they made me interested in computer science and music, because I won’t have Mr. Rane or Mr. Krug to help me develop my skills anymore. I hate the greater Waterbury area for feeling and looking like my own neighborhood back in the Bronx, making it so much easier for me to feel included. But most of all I hate my friends for making me care about them so much, instilling in me a commitment to their success and happiness above my own. Though we were brought together by chance, we all had a mutual commitment to see each other succeed, day in and day out, and accept nothing less than better. Had it not been for you guys, maybe saying goodbye wouldn’t be so difficult; maybe this caption would have been just the one phrase.

When I say “miss,” it doesn’t nearly encompass how I truly feel about leaving Taft. Not only will I feel the absence of the experiences I had, I yearn for a universe where next Fall I arrive back on campus, age 14, hair buzzed, ready to greet my new roommate. I will miss the Taft School. I will miss going to my room and being yelled at by @brodybowser26 to move so that he and @trevorstellmach could continue their Tekken game while @brendantoon had aux. I will miss being five minutes away from @maddiefgabriele and spending countless study halls looking at her pinterest wall vines and constant visits from @tori_thormann to tell us about the hilarious thing that made or ruined her day. I will miss being a flight of stairs away from @mikiashayye , @c_c_simpson , and @oscar.krakoff and the hijinx that ensued after sign-in. I will miss the general advice bombs that @david.aluya , @sullyxmillinton , @michaelkmayhugh , and @maximklitschko1 would hit me with on random but constant occasions. I can go on and on about everyone that’s made my days feel like minutes but I will miss all of you all the same. You are all the basis on which I will judge the characters of new people that come into my life, which is an almost impossible bar to meet, let alone exceed. I will also miss the Pineapple Dole Whip soft serve I probably won’t get to eat again.

Thank you to all of those that gave me the time of day. Thank you to all of those that wanted nothing from me but to succeed. Thank you to all of those who went out of their way to make my life easier. Thank you for being an integral part of who I am today, who I listen to, what I wear, and what I value.

Though this is a see you later to those reading, this is a goodbye to the majority of my life and what I have worked to achieve. With uncertainty looming, I find solace in knowing I have you all. I’ll turn out okay. I wish you all roses in whatever avenue you wish to pursue.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forgotten Ties - Chapter 5 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"Nim, you're taking Skye into school with you this morning," Joanne said as Nim passed through the living room on the way to get his breakfast.

"Just take him up to the front office and they'll deal with things from there."

Nim made a face.

"Why me?"

"Because you're roommates and you know him the best. Because you could stand to help out for once."

"Fine," Nim said.

His objection had been pretty performative in the first place.

Skye seemed to feel that a switch of beds and some stolen jerky was fair compensation for warning Nim of the doctor's plans but Nim still considered that debt unsettled.

Nim had never been part of a pack but his mum had instilled the importance of settling debts in him.

If you owed someone for something, you repaid them.

That was a value Werewolves held.

Not that taking Skye into school with him was necessarily much of a repayment but hey.

If Nim didn't do it, it would fall to Marigold.

Ever since he'd come across her crying in the living room, he'd been trying to be a little more considerate towards her.

Not much more, of course.

He still wasn't about to join in on the parenting duties.

If he ever started caring about which kid was crying or why, he'd go insane.

Not much more, of course.

He still wasn't about to join in on the parenting duties.

If he ever started caring about which kid was crying or why, he'd go insane.

Though getting Skye to school was Nim's job, Marigold was the one who made sure he had everything before they left, including an extra large lunch box packed full of food.

Skye seemed surprisingly chipper about the idea of going to school.

He was an oddly cheerful person in general.

Maybe that was a side effect of having lived so long.

Nim had assumed it was naivety at first but now he was starting to think it might be more like a kind of zen.

Whatever it was, the reality of school would crush it out of him soon enough.

It started when they reached the bus stop and one of the human kids already waiting there shot Skye a look of derision.

Nim did his best to ignore it when people did that to him but Skye locked his eyes on the boy and stared.

The boy kept glancing back in Skye's direction, clearly uncomfortable.

Nim tried distracting Skye but he refused to stop staring at the kid.

It took Nim physically putting his forearm over Skye's eyes to get him to stop.

Nim had expected him to squirm away but instead he nuzzled his face into the crook of Nim's arm.

That was, thankfully, when the bus arrived.

Skye wasn't very good at sitting in seats, including bus seats.

It seemed like the only thing he knew about what to do with his legs was that he absolutely didn't want them to be dangling down with his feet on the floor like a normal person.

"I've never been on a bus before," Skye said as he fidgeted around.

"I have ridden in a horse drawn carriage, though."

"I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of you being hundreds of years old or whatever," Nim said.

"Miya's also half cat and she just has cat ears and is kind of agile."

"She hissed at me yesterday," Skye said. "Maybe I should have hissed back. She's going to think that I'm not good at being a cat."

"She's like, six."

"Yeah."

"I don't think you need to hiss at her. Just because you're half cat doesn't mean you have to do everything a cat does. You don't see me sniffing butts."

"Hmm."

Skye knelt on the seat and put his hands on the glass as he looked out of the window.

"You can sniff my butt if you want to."

"I have no desire to sniff anybody's butt."

"Well, you're not very good at being a dog, then."

"I'm not a dog. I'm a Werewolf."

Skye pressed his forehead against the window.

"Looked like a cute puppy dog to me."

"You don't have very good instincts for danger."

"You're not dangerous to me."

"Well... no," Nim said. "But not because I'm a cute, harmless puppy."

"I've lived longer than you, so maybe I know what I'm doing."

"Died more times than I have, too."

Syke sighed.

"You die one time..."

"That's all most of us get. I'm pretty sure one day someone's going to shoot me and I'll just... die."

Skye twisted his neck to look back over his shoulder at Nim.

"Well, I'm not going to get shot."

"Good for you. I hope you don't."

"Nim."

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to be sad if you get shot, so don't, okay?"

"I'll try."

When they arrived at the school, Nim took Skye up to the front office, told the lady behind the desk his name and then left him there.

Skye entertained himself by flipping through a binder on the desk until the lady told him to stop and then by taking all the pens out of the cup they were kept in and comparing the clicky sounds they made.

After a while another lady came and she told Skye to follow her, so he did.

She took him to a room full of chairs and small desks and no people.

"Sit down at the desk at the front," the lady said.

When Skye tried to sit at the big desk at the very front of the room, she let out a sigh.

"Not there, obviously."

This lady was very bad at giving instructions.

Skye sat down at one of the smaller desks and tucked his bag underneath.

The lady placed several stapled together sheets of paper, a pen, and a calculator on the desk in front of him.

"Your results on this test will determine which classes you're placed in, so try your best. You have one hour."

Skye clicked the pen he'd been given as he squinted down at the sheet of paper.

He still could not read.

He glanced up at the lady as she sat down behind the big desk at the front of the room.

He did a few squiggles on the sheet of paper, as though he was writing.

He did a few more squiggles.

"Can I eat my lunch?"

"Is it lunch time?"

Skye shrugged.

He also couldn't tell time.

"No it is not. Finish your test."

Maybe if he did enough squiggles, he'd get some of the questions right by accident.

He tried copying some of the letters from the words on the paper but he wasn't very good at doing them right.

How did anyone read?

How did people look at all these little symbols arranged in different ways and instantly be like, oh, that means something and I know what it is.

Maybe they were all just pretending.

He slid the calculator over and pressed some of the buttons.

"Beep boop beep boop."

The lady gave him a look of annoyance and shushed him but Skye was pretty sure he had successfully convinced her that he was doing maths.

[hunnothyun]

Definite Happiness

I never realized that there could be a price to pay for the value of precious moments.

If each line is unchangeable and certain, what should I pursue?

Upon arriving in Germany as an exchange student, I experienced a brief period of happiness, only to realize a significant truth. The feelings I have during my exchange program will soon come to an end. While I have the opportunity to explore and experience many things, there is a time limit. Wasting time could mean missing out on crucial opportunities. This realization instilled in me an obsession to seize maximum happiness in the present moment. I consider myself fortunate to have a year-long stay here, rather than just a semester.

I embark on a trip every week, and compared to traveling from Korea to the same destinations, the costs here are relatively low. This is why many adults advised me to travel during this period, even if it meant accumulating some debt. Consequently, weekends hold immense value for me. I yearn to find happiness in numerous places, but it requires careful planning, which in turn demands a significant amount of time. I was always desperate for more time.

Another challenge was the lack of financial resources. Setting aside anly around 100 euros per month for travel expenses was feasible, excluding essential costs such as monthly dormitory rent and insurance premiums. I continued online tutoring and saved money as much as possible. However, these efforts fell far short of covering the expenses. Even the cheapest hostel for a two-night, three-day trip would cost around 50 euros. Ultimately, I had to cut down on daily living expenses, but there were numerous opportunities in my daily life that I didn't want to miss.

I had to ponder on what was truly important to me. To gain something, I had to boldly relinquish something else. Vague sacrifices lead to a state of ambiguity where nothing feels right. There seemed to be a certain know-how in identifying and obtaining what you desire. I began to believe that happiness lies within oneself. One must strive their hardest and find contentment in their accomplishments. This time holds even greater significance because it is finite.

During my high school days, I envisioned myself living abroad as a student. Back then, I was enamored with the allure of a liberated life, and I never considered that the emotions I would experience as an exchange student were temporary. I didn't even think that there would be a price to pay for the privilege of experiencing things I had never seen before in my life, on my own. Now, I realize that there is something I have to pay for new experiences: consideration, plan, and financial management.

I sketch the canvas of my desire. However, when I paint my life with a brush, each stroke becoming potentially the last, it is only natural for a sense of urgency to arise. Each stroke represents fleeting happiness. If I only have a limited time of one year to complete a single painting, how should I fill the canvas? What colors and shapes can I use to ensure no regrets are left behind?

[thebranddaddysblog]

7 Effective Strategies for Building an Email List: The Key to Social Media Marketing and Digital Marketing Success.

Table of contents

• Introduction

• Strategy 1: Creating Compelling Opt-In Incentives

• Strategy 2: Optimizing Landing Pages

• Strategy 3: Implementing Pop-Ups and Slide-Ins

• Strategy 4: Leveraging Social Media

• Strategy 5: Hosting Giveaways and Contests

• Strategy 6: Utilizing Lead Magnets

• Strategy 7: Collaborating with Influencers

• Conclusion

Introduction

Tired of your email list being static at a low number? So, don't be concerned! In this blog, we'll look at seven successful tactics for growing a strong email list, because who needs followers when you can have subscribers? Let's get started and discover the secrets of successful social media and digital marketing! Prepare to boost your email sign-ups and rock your email marketing game like a boss. Boom!

Strategy 1: Creating Compelling Opt-In Incentives

Creating an email list is a common task in the field of digital marketing. So, let's get started with Strategy 1: Creating Entertaining Opt-In Incentives.

First and foremost, we have to understand the significance of opt-in incentives. People get flooded with emails on a daily basis, so why would they join up for yet more inbox invader? That's where opt-in incentives come in handy. These small gems provide potential subscribers an incentive to take the jump and join your email list.

Moving on, consider the many types of opt-in incentives you can provide. Consider this: what would compel you to give up your valuable email address? Perhaps a free ebook? A price reduction on your goods or services? Exclusive access to insider information and tricks? Be innovative, my friend!

Now for the good stuff: suggestions for developing compelling opt-in rewards. You want to make your offer so enticing that consumers can't resist it. Make it valuable, relevant, and one-of-a-kind. Highlight the advantages your subscribers will receive and instill a sense of urgency. A little FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) is never a bad thing!

That's all there is to it, my friend! Strategy 1 is all about generating opt-in incentives that will entice individuals to join your email list. But believe me, we're only getting started. Stay tuned for more tips on growing that desired email list!

Strategy 2: Optimizing Landing Pages

landing page optimization! The path to convincing your visitors to stay and, more crucially, take the desired action. Landing pages, like a well-designed trap, entice unwary victims with their alluring allure. Okay, so that was a little dramatic, but you get the idea.

To begin, consider the value of landing pages. They act as a one-stop shop for users who arrive after clicking on your tailored adverts or links. These pages have the potential to make or break conversions, so making them user-friendly is critical. Nobody likes to negotiate a confusing maze, believe me.

Creating a user-friendly landing page involves using simple yet effective headlines that catch attention right away. Make sure the page is straightforward to navigate and has an intuitive design. Nobody wants to feel as if they have stumbled across a medieval dilemma when all they sought was some facts.

Let us now discuss compelling components. Like a smooth-talking marketer, you must entice your visitors to take action. Include eye-catching images, appealing language, and enticing call-to-action buttons - the entire shebang! Make them an offer they can't refuse.

Finally, improving your landing pages is the key to retaining visitors and encouraging them to take action. Be their guide through the maze of your website, guiding them to the conversion you seek. You don't want your landing page to be a dead end, after all. I didn't think so.

Strategy 3: Implementing Pop-Ups and Slide-Ins

Pop-ups and slide-ins have long been used to intimidate website users. But don't worry, since when used wisely, these irritating little features may do wonders for growing your email list.

The key is to find a happy medium between attracting attention and avoiding discomfort. Pop-ups and slide-ins should be used rarely and wisely. Don't constantly overwhelm your visitors with membership demands. Nobody wants a needy ex, and no one wants a clingy website.

Creating eye-catching pop-up messages is critical for capturing your visitor's attention. Be inventive, witty, or even ridiculous. Maybe a cheesy line or a hilarious GIF may make them reconsider closing that pop-up.

The importance of timing and frequency cannot be overstated. Don't be the friend who messages all day long. Choose the appropriate time to engage your visitors and be considerate of their time. Testing various timings and intervals can assist you in locating the sweet spot between success and distress.

Remember that the purpose is to entice, not to irritate. Stay calm, follow these recommendations, and your email list will soon be overflowing with subscribers who want to hear from you. Now you can pop up like a pro!

Strategy 4: Leveraging Social Media

Social media isn't just for stalking your ex or constantly scrolling through cat memes. No, it's an exceptionally effective method for growing your email list. That small detail that holds the key to your digital marketing success? That one, for sure.

So, let's speak about how you can use social media sites to expand your email list. First and foremost, you must go where your target audience is. Find the platforms that correlate with your target demographic, whether it's Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or even TikTok (hey, they've got a surprisingly older crowd).

After you've established your internet presence, it's time to start creating some genuinely compelling material. Please, no dull, generic nonsense. offer your audience a cause to offer you their valuable email addresses in exchange for something valuable. Make it worth their time by offering unique discounts, useful tools, or even a good old-fashioned amusing cat video.

Of course, if you don't promote your email subscriptions, all of your interesting material will be for naught. So, get ready to shamelessly promote yourself like a pro. To attract your readers to join your email list, use eye-catching graphics, interesting descriptions, and perhaps even a dash of influencer magic.

Strategy 5: Hosting Giveaways and Contests

Are you fed up with battling to grow an email list? So, I've devised a way to make your life easier (and your competition jealous). Hosting freebies and contests is an excellent approach to engage your target audience and increase email sign-ups.

First and foremost, you must build giveaways that actually capture your audience. There will be no more dull gifts like a free pen or keychain. Go for broke or go home! Provide something valuable that others want. What about a weekend getaway, the newest technological device, or a year's supply of chocolate?

Finally, make sure you successfully market your gifts. Use your social media networks to your advantage, produce catchy and enticing messages, and spread the word like wildfire. The more people that are aware of your contest, the more email sign-ups you will receive. It's essentially just basic math.

So, what are you holding out for? Get out there and start hosting competitions and giveaways like a pro. Your email list will be grateful. Also, don't be scared to think beyond the box. The more bizarre the giveaway, the more attention you'll receive. Good luck with your contest!

Strategy 6: Utilizing Lead Magnets

Lead magnets are essential for growing an email list. They are similar to the appealing, irresistible hook that encourages your potential subscribers. Understanding the relevance of lead magnets is critical for list building success. So, what is it that makes a lead magnet valuable? It must provide something appealing to your audience, whether it is a free e-book, a checklist, or a webinar. The objective is to deliver value to your target audience while also solving an issue for them. After you've produced a valuable lead magnet, distribute it strategically throughout your website and content. Make it simply accessible and interesting to your visitors, and they will be unable to resist joining your email list.

Strategy 7: Collaborating with Influencers

Collaboration with influencers can transform your email list development efforts. With their appeal and influence, these individuals have the ability to sway your target audience. You can acquire access to a larger network of potential subscribers by harnessing the popularity of these social media darlings.

However, not all influencers are made equal. It's critical to find people that share your beliefs and are comparable to your target audience. Otherwise, you risk appealing to the incorrect audience, and you don't want to attract subscribers that have no interest in your business.

It is critical to form mutually beneficial partnerships with influencers. Make certain that there is a clear value exchange, whether through remuneration, product giveaways, or simply the opportunity to be connected with your wonderful brand. So go ahead and contact those influencers, and watch your email list grow like crazy. This cooperation, believe me, will be the stuff of fantasies!

Conclusion

To recap, developing an email list is critical for social media and digital marketing success. It enables you to cultivate highly interested customers and form personal ties. You may increase trust and drive visitors to your website by personalizing email campaigns and offering relevant content. Email marketing campaign trackability provides significant insights, allowing data-driven decision-making to efficiently reach your target audience. You may produce more subscribers and build your email list by employing techniques such as embedding signup buttons on social accounts, organizing giveaways and contests, deploying lead forms via Facebook Ads, and utilising Twitter Lead Generation Cards. These seven practical tactics will lay the groundwork for you to not only create but also optimize your email list.

[raisingdreams]

I can't get used to this world of expensive things, cheap people, values ​​on discount and feelings on sale.

When I was still between that age where you're a girl about to become a woman, I always heard my mother complain about fads, she always criticized everything new and it bothered me, it bothered me because I liked a lot of that stuff from that she could spend the whole day talking about and giving a thousand reasons why the youth of my day was "going astray", and my mind always ignored the comment after "in my time...", because it made me feel as if my world was wrong and as if I should be ashamed of those things that I enjoyed doing.

I still remember how I was annoyed with her because she never let me get home after eleven at night, when my friends were allowed to stay out until three in the morning, they always made fun of me when I had to leave several hours earlier than them, and on more than one occasion they insisted that I ignore my mother's warnings and arrive later, but I knew very well that if I did not go home at the time I had promised, I would be left without permits, at least for one year.

I always thought that my mother was an old-fashioned person who did not know how to change along with the world and was "full of silly ideas" that simply did not fit the reality of the world we lived in anymore, but even then there was a respect for the values ​​and parents continued to instill them in their children as something good -although they did not always do it by example- they had the idea that they (values) were good and that the people who had them were precious simply because of that.

Now I'm the one who hears myself say that phrase that bothered me so much to hear from my mom, but I can't help but sometimes react with a "in my time..." as if I were already an old person, and in reality I feel old-fashioned given the changes that this world has undergone and I simply feel that I no longer fit in it, everything that I considered valuable is now worthless, people focus more on "living in the moment", they think that "enjoying is living", and they do it without worrying about the consequences.

In this modern world, the quality of people doesn't matter if they can't support it with their wallet, nobody cares about the emotions of others, everyone seeks to satisfy their desires and tries to get involved as little as possible, dances have become a series of obscene movements with clothes, (very few and small btw), seeing a group of guys dancing now seems more like an orgy than a recreational activity.

AS DAYS PASS BY PEOPLE ARE MORE FALSE AND EMPTY, NOW THEY ARE WORTH BASED ON WHAT THEY WEAR AND THEIR VALUES MEAN NOTHING, IN FACT, THEY SEEM TO BE A WEAKNESS. THE FEELINGS THAT WERE THE MOST IMPORTANT BEFORE, NOW ARE PUT ON DISCOUNT OR TO GET FOR FREE FOR THOSE WHO ARE WILLING TO KEEP THEM EVEN IF IT'S IN A POOR WAY, I FEEL OLD FASHIONED AND I SIMPLY DON'T WANT TO FIT INTO A WORLD LIKE THIS.

-A 🦋

[grewlikefancyflowers]

JC’s deeply rooted resentment of WWX, JFM’s parenting, and the inevitability of the falling out of the ‘Yunmeng bros’.

In discussion of the breakdown of JC and WWX’s relationship, their falling out is often regarded as a mutual failing on both sides to properly communicate and maintain their relationship. I’m making the case here that their falling out was a foregone conclusion from the start, and in no part due to the actions of Wei Wuxian.

This is because YZY has instilled in JC the idea that JFM dislikes him, something he believes before WWX arrives in Lotus Pier, JC already feels inferior, thus as soon as potential competition for JFM’s attention comes along in the form of WWX, JC resents him, believes JFM prefers him, and looks for reasons to justify this. 

Summarising their very first interactions - from chapter 71 - WWX arrives at LP, sees JC with his puppies and is so terrified that he refuses to come down from JFM’s arms the entire day. The second day, JFM gives JC’s puppies away.

Now, I would like to think that no one seriously believes that this is an act of favouritism, but I have seen this case being made so I just want to make clear that WWX is obviously traumatised by his previous interactions with dogs. After trying for a whole day to comfort WWX, with no success, JFM does not exactly have any other choice than to give the puppies away, WWX cannot be expected to live in constant terror in the place that is supposed to be his home.

Consequently, ‘This angered Jiang Cheng so much that he threw a big tantrum. No matter how much Jiang FengMian comforted him gently, telling him that they should ‘be good friends’, he refused to talk to Wei WuXian.’

JC’s reaction is fairly understandable for an 8 year old. JFM comforts JC, and does not treat him callously or dismiss him, however it takes several days until JC will even talk to WWX.

When JC does start to warm up to him, JFM thinks it’d be a good idea for them to have a sleepover, JC is on the ‘verge of agreeing’ to this, which JFM is overjoyed by - so much so that he picks WWX up.

This is not an example of favouritism, JFM doesn't repeatedly give affection to WWX and not JC, he holds him twice - the first instance being purely because WWX was too terrified to leave his arms, the second being this one. These are the only two times where JFM is described as being affectionate towards WWX, JC is still in the lead on this count. But JC interprets this as JFM preferring WWX.

This results in the JC shutting WWX out at night.

At that time, Wei WuXian didn’t know what Jiang Cheng was mad about at all. After a pause, he replied, “I didn’t steal anything. It’s Uncle Jiang who told me to sleep with you.”

Hearing that he was still bringing up his father, almost as if he was purposely showing off, Jiang Cheng’s eyes reddened as he yelled, “Go away! If I see you again, I’ll call a bunch of dogs to bite you!”

This is the important part - JC sees WWX in the worst possible light, and rarely thinks of WWX as a person outside of how he directly impacts JC - he concludes that WWX is purposefully antagonising him, this is a trend that continues well into adulthood.

Then, when WWX flees LP after JC threatens him with dogs, JYL tells JC to find people to help search for him. However,

‘If any other disciple or servant learned about this and told Jiang FengMian, after Jiang FengMian knew how he threw Wei WuXian’s sheets out and made him hurt his leg, Jiang FengMian would definitely dislike him even more. This was also why he only dared chase after them alone and didn’t get anyone else.’

JC has obviously behaved wrongly here, and JFM would be right to scold him for it, but JC interprets this as JFM disliking him. We haven’t seen anything to suggest that JFM actually dislikes JC, he always treats him quite gently, actually. But JC is already at the conclusion that JFM dislikes him, and twists events to suit this - if his dad scolds him for misbehaving, it’s because he dislikes him. This pattern repeats after the Xuanwu Cave arc too.

This is because Madam Yu has ingrained into him the idea that JFM dislikes him, because he’s her son. This has nothing to do with WWX - because both her and JC already believe that JFM dislikes JC prior to WWX’s arrival -  she only sees him as additional fuel to use.

The only other person who mentions JFM supposedly treating WWX better than JC is JZX. I’m sure it's a coincidence that he’s the son of YZY’s best friend.

‘“Doesn’t he treat you better than treating his own child or something?”’

Note the ‘or something’, - JZX doesn’t seem to know this with certainty - he’s repeating what others have said, despite having visited Lotus Pier several times (as stated in ch.69), JZX hasn’t seen evidence for himself that JFM prefers WWX.

‘“Maybe I should’ve let you hit him, while I stand aside and watch. This way, Uncle Jiang might not need to come. Oh well, I really couldn’t hold back!”’

We know that WWX doesn’t see JFM as favouring him - so what does he mean by this? Well, LQR has had it out for WWX from the moment they met, and has already sent a letter to JFM complaining of his behaviour - at this point WWX doesn’t know that this results in them breaking the JZX/JYL engagement either, so he’s probably purely thinking that LQR summoned JFM to CR to discuss WWX’s repeated offenses. JC hasn’t done anything to invoke LQR’s ire (or rather, he’s gotten away with everything he has done), so WWX thinks that if JC fought JZX, it would not have been treated so seriously, compared to WWX, who has repeatedly misbehaved.

Contrary to fanon interpretation, WWX is not oblivious to other people’s feelings, he’s very empathetic, and additionally understands JC very well. He doesn’t see how JC is feeling here, because JC��s feelings are just so illogical...

‘Although it was only Wei WuXian’s casual words, he held mixed feelings, because he knew that this wasn’t a lie.

Jiang FengMian had never hurried to another sect in one day for anything related to him, no matter if the issue was good or bad, large or small.

Never.’

Once again, JC’s at the conclusion that JFM dislikes him, he twists events to support this. He’s looking at this scenario very strangely - JFM didn’t rush to CR because he likes WWX, he was called there by LQR, to discuss JYL’s engagement with JZX. Secondly, we’re never given any examples of scenarios where JC does anything to warrant JFM rushing over. As far as we know, they never even stay with other sects. Knowing JC’s personality, his dislike of doing anything to rock the boat, it’s extremely unlikely that he’s ever done anything to warrant JFM rushing over like this. Moreover, it’s a bizarre thing to be jealous of, WWX is in trouble, he’s not on the receiving end of positive attention from JFM. 

JC’s flawed reasoning is once again illustrated after the Xuanwu Cave arc...

‘Jiang Cheng’s expression was complicated after he had finished listening.’

This is Jiang Cheng’s reaction after WWX credits LWJ with killing the tortoise of slaughter - this is before JFM congratulates him. Before JFM says anything, JC is purely resentful about WWX having done something heroic, more so, resentful that WWX is willingly to let LWJ take most of the credit - he’s annoyed about this, most likely feeling that WWX is rubbing in his face that he doesn’t need the recognition that JC so desperately craves.

‘Jiang FengMian nodded and said, “You did well.”

Killing a giant 400-year-old beast at only 17 was way beyond what one would call ‘doing well.’’

JFM knows about JC’s… issues, he knows how he’ll react to WWX’s receiving recognition, he likely purposefully downplays his praise to avoid upsetting him. (Who’s really being favouritised? Lol)

But, even to this, JC reacts badly, he lashes out at WWX, once more interpreting him in the worst possible way.

‘Jiang Cheng hissed, “Too fucking bad, then. You shouldn’t have been so damn stubborn and you shouldn’t have cared so damn much about such a trivial thing. If you’d never moved in the first place –”’

JC’s response is to basically tell him the entire incident was his fault. Which is objectively not true - WWX only gets involved in the conflict after it has already started, and then he acts deliberately to try to end it, rather than impulsively fighting. He also starts to say that WWX should have left their allies - LWJ and JZX - to die. This is where JFM cuts him off, and tells him it’s not appropriate to say such things - he’s not scolding him harshly, JC is not being unfairly treated here, he’s done wrong, and JFM is trying to teach him why, you know, parenting. But JC, and YZY, take this to mean JFM dislikes JC.

JFM tries to teach JC about the Jiang sect’s motto once more - this is of course, not just about the motto, but about the values that JFM wants to instill in him, as a parent.

This is where Madam Yu arrives.

“Yes, he doesn’t understand, but what does it matter, as long as Wei Ying understands?!”

Of course, what she says is nonsensical, it does matter to JFM that JC understands the motto, that’s why he’s trying to teach him. If he did not care, he would have given in already.

This is further supported...

‘Jiang Cheng’s appearance and temperament all resembled his mother’s. Jiang FengMian guided him from childhood, but no matter how much he tried, he still couldn’t change his son’s nature. As such, it always seemed like he disliked his son.’

JFM has never been dismissive of JC just because he’s YZY’s son, he’s always tried to teach him, but JC always had his mother’s nature - YZY’s nature being harsh, standoffish, foul tempered, with no care for others - Note that is says it ‘seems’ like he dislikes his son, solely because he’s trying to teach him to be a better person. He has good reason for doing so - as a kid, JC never had friends, he doesn’t seem to as an adult either, he only has Jin Ling, whom he pushes away with his foul temper. JFM was just trying to raise JC to being an even-tempered person, capable of functioning in society, which is kind of what parents are supposed to do. But once more, this is taken as dislike.

Note that during JC’s outburst, every single thing JC claims about what JFM thinks of him, he’s parroting what YZY has said, none of these points have any actual evidence.

The next point to consider is how JC blames WWX for the fall of LP, despite it objectively not being his fault - JC knows this too.

‘In his heart, Jiang Cheng knew clearly that back in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter at Dusk-Creek Mountain, even if Wei WuXian hadn’t saved Lan WangJi, the Wen Sect would have found some reason to come over sooner or later’

Even if WWX’s actions did prompt the Wens to act sooner than they otherwise might have - coming sooner or later would have made no difference at all because YZY outright stated she had no intention of preparing for an attack, even after WWX suggests they should, and JFM was still going to the Wens asking for their swords back - they were still uselessly trying to suck up to the Wens, thinking it would save them.

Despite knowing deep down that WWX was not to blame - he still uses it to fuel his resentment of WWX, because the resentment was there from the beginning, the only uncertainty is the means he uses to justify it.

During the ancestral hall confrontation - he uses this excuse again.

‘Jiang Cheng responded contemptuously, “You really are forgetful. What’s called a shameful person? Let me remind you. Just because you decided to be a hero and save this Second Young Master Lan, the entire Lotus Pier including my father and mother was buried. If this wasn’t enough, after the first time, you still want a second time, even wanting to save Wen-dogs and implicating my sister and her husband, how noble of you. Even nobler, you are so magnanimous to bring these two to Lotus Pier. Allowing the Wen-dog to stand at the front of my gates and letting Second Young Master Lan offer joss sticks, purely trying to antagonize me.’

Obviously, WWX did none of these things to antagonise JC, in fact he was going through a complex emotional journey of realising that he has feelings for LWJ, and that LWJ probably has feelings for him too, he doesn’t go to the ancestral shrine to mess around - he’s ‘introducing’ LWJ to JFM, YZY, and JYL, because he’s thinking about marrying him.

The problem is, JC never really sees WWX as a person, WWX has always been more of a concept - someone to compare himself to, the reason his father doesn’t like him, the reason his mother uses to berate him. It doesn’t occur to JC that WWX is a person outside of what he is to JC, and he is therefore incapable of empathising with what WWX might be feeling right now, instead the only possible conclusion is that he’s antagonising JC.

He follows the same line of thinking when WWX defects with the Wens. JC knows what he and WWX owe them, in fact JC owes them, far, far more than what WWX does - it was his parents whose bodies Wen Ning retrieved, and it was him who WN had to rescue from LP. But JC thinks, he can get away with not paying this debt, so why should he? JC is selfish, he doesn’t understand why WWX would want to help others when he doesn’t have to, so JC concludes, this is WWX showing off, ‘playing the hero’. 

Because from the moment they met, JC has never tried to know WWX for who he is, whatever WWX does, JC interprets in a negative light - when WWX tries to get LWJ’s attention, (despite it being painstakingly obvious that WWX has a crush on him) JC concludes that WWX is messing around foolishly, without reason (parroting the untrue things YZY says about WWX always seeking trouble). When WWX wants to help people, he’s playing the hero, one upping JC. JC only ever thinks of WWX in relation to himself - when WWX disappears for three months, JC’s immediate complaint is that WWX kept him waiting, that he’s put JC out by making him search for him. You could argue that JC was just worried about WWX, and not able to express it - and on some level that’s true. But there’s a very intentional contrast between how LWJ and JC react to WWX’s return - LWJ is worried about WWX, about how his cultivation method is affecting him, moreover, WWX is very clearly not himself. JC, however, does not care for that - he only sees WWX, and modao, as a tool for killing Wens.

It takes almost nothing for JGS to manipulate JC into turning against WWX in ch.73 - he readily believes every negative thing JGS says about WWX, despite being called out directly for lying by LWJ. JGS talks as if he is a servant who has forgotten his place, unlike JYL, JC does not defend him. He refuses to speak up for him - he claims that no one will - yet LWJ and MianMian did. JC didn’t turn on WWX because it was impossible for him to speak up - he was living proof that WQ and WN did not support the Wen sect in the war, he drops him the moment he can because he’s resented him from the beginning.

Another interesting tidbit about JC just fundamentally not understanding who WWX is as a person, is that he only blames LWJ for the Xuanwu Cave incident - not JZX, despite him behaving no differently to how LWJ does. This is probably because he realises WWX’s fixation on LWJ, and supposes that this is the reason that WWX got involved in the conflict. But of course, WWX would have done something whether it was solely JZX, or just a random person.

Taking all this into account, it seems almost inevitable that WWX and JC would fall out eventually, because JC was, from the start, looking for reasons to dislike WWX, he turns against him at the first opportunity he got. For the ‘Yunmeng bros’ to have a healthy relationship, JC would simply have to fix his entire personality.

JC is unable to see WWX as a person, right up until the very end of the novel - when he recalls how he impulsively put himself at risk in order to save WWX. Finally, for the first time, JC is able to understand why WWX stood up for others in Xuanwu Cave, why he helped the Wens, because JC did the same thing, put himself on the line for WWX, probably the only time JC has ever acted so selflessly. And this is why he lets him go, he lets go of the things he blamed WWX for. For the first time, he is able to empathise with WWX, he understands that WWX was never ‘playing the hero’, seeking praise or recognition, he understands that WWX helps people purely because he feels in the moment that it’s the right thing to do. This is what enables him to finally let go of WWX.

I’m always a bit baffled when people claim mxtx never gave JC a happy ending, because this is his happy ending - him being able to realise that WWX never wronged him - when he finally lets go of this, he can live freely. 

[weelittleweasley]

A Cup of Tea | Draco x Reader

Prompt as requested by anon: hii ! I’m in love with ur writing! anyways could you do one where reader meets Draco’s mom & Narcissa absolutely loves her ? And like her embarrassing draco & stuff like that ? Just thought it would be cute 🥺

Warnings: lots of fluff

A/N: I’m so glad to see that people are enjoying my writing again! Feels good to be writing again! I forgot how much I love to write for y’all! Enjoy the imagine and have a happy Monday!!

Flashbacks are told in italics!

Lacing your boots up, you sit on the edge your bed as your hair falls in front of your face. You tuck your hair behind your ears, rising from the bed and looking at yourself in the mirror in front of you. Sucking in a deep breath through your nose and out of your mouth, you inspect yourself. The black wrap dress clung to your figure nicely and your hair framed your face nicely. Nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, you grab your bag and jacket, trying not to thinking about the tight feeling in your chest as you prepped to meet your boyfriend’s mother for the first time. 

A week prior, you and Draco sat in his dormitory as you worked quietly at his desk on your homework. Draco laid on his bed, tossing a ball up and down, remaining silent with little sighs here and there. The silence was comfortable as Draco patiently waited for you to finish your work before you could give your full attention. Maybe patiently waiting was a little too generous...

“Darling, you must be nearly done. You’ve been at that desk for hours,” Draco groans, sitting up, watching you scribble into your notebook alongside a slew of textbooks.

Without shifting your gaze, you reply, “I’m almost done. Please give me five more minutes, love.”

He groans and falls melodramatically back on his bed, continuing to throw the ball up and down. You take a few more moment writing some last notes from this night’s reading into your book before shutting the books closed and turning around in your chair. You look at the boy who lays on his bed, huffing about how stupid it was that he has been waiting for hours when in reality it was an hour and a half at most he was waiting for you to finish. “Are you done with your antics, Malfoy?” you ask him, a teasing smile dancing on your glossy lips. 

Draco sits straight up and a cheeky smile finds its way to his mouth. “At last,” he breathes out as you walk over to him and he wastes absolutely no time throwing his ball to the other side of his room, pulling you into his lap, your usual seat. You allow a few small giggles to slip out of your mouth as he pulls you in, burying your face into the crook of his neck, breathing his scent in deeply. He smelled like cologne and apples. A pleasant combination to your senses. Draco places a small kiss to your temple before laying down on the bed, causing you to straddle him on his bed. “Best seat in the house,” he jokes, looking up at you. You looked like a vision; a toothy grin on your face, wispy hair falling front of your eyes as you brush it out of your view, your Hogwarts uniform hugging you in every place perfectly. He never knew how sexy that god awful uniform could look on someone. 

You two remain in this position for a little while, his thumbs rubbing small circles into your hip bones, as you brush the white blonde hair on his head with your fingers. Cupping his cheek with one of your hands, you stroke it with your thumb before he turns his head and places a gentle kiss to your palm. Draco was putty under your touch. The boy would do anything you asked him to. He lived to make you happy, to make you feel special, to make you feel loved. If you asked him for the world, he would give it to you with the moon and the stars. You wished that other people could see this soft side of Draco, but at the same time, you loved that it was a little secret between the two of you. Only you got to see how gentle and kind he was; how thoughtful he could be. “Dray?” you ask as he hums in response, lacing your fingers with his, him gently kissing your knuckles individually. “What do you think our future holds?” 

“Well, we’ll be married, of course,” Draco does not hesitate to answer this question, which brought you comfort. Draco talked nearly all the time about how much he wanted to make you his wife. If you weren’t still in school, he’d be down on one knee right now, proposing that you spend the rest of your lives with each other. “We can move into the manor with my parents,” he starts, watching him play with your hands, looking at the lines on your palms. This part of his proposition made you a little uneasy. Rather than living with Draco’s parents, you’d rather find a place of your own, away from all the madness of the Malfoy’s. You loved Draco, no question, but you didn’t know if you would love living with his parents. Speaking of which, of who you have not met yet. Well, technically you have met his father, but you would rather not chose to remember that awkward encounter. You smiling wide at him as Lucius looked at you with disgust, saying that his son was not dating any girl after you introduced yourself as Draco’s girlfriend. With that, he kept walking down the halls of Hogwarts, leaving you feeling quite embarrassed. “Something wrong?” Draco asks, propping himself up on his elbows, sitting halfway up. He noticed the tension in your shoulders when he brought up living with his parents.

Shaking your head back and forth, you reply, “No, I’m alright. Keep talking.” You press a small kiss to his lips trying to encourage him to keep talking about your future together. As you pull away, Draco has a look on his face that screams I’m not buying it. “Really, darling, I’m alright. Continue,” you push his shoulders, jokingly making him smirk. Draco thinks for a moment before his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Oh no,” your smile drops. “I know that face and I don’t like where this is going already.”

Draco laughs and sits up straight so your chests are now touching. “I want you to meet my mother,” he confesses and your heart stops beating for a moment. Your mouth goes dry and you try to keep yourself composed as to not alarm Draco. “I know the two of you will get on like a house on fire. You’ll come to the manor with me next week on holiday, won’t you?” he asks, his eyes pleading you to say yes. His blue eyes bore into you. Merlin, how were you supposed to say no. Feigning excitement, you nod your head up and down with a small hum. He chuckles, “Brilliant. I’ll send an owl and tell mother she should expect a very special guest.” Draco closes the gap between you two, pressing a hard kiss to your lips, showing you how thankful he was that the two most important women in his life would be meeting. You on the other hand, were absolutely horrified. 

Now, here you were, bag and jacket in hand, making your way to Draco’s dormitory, your heart pounding out of your chest. It’s not that you didn’t want to meet Draco’s mother, you were just scared that you wouldn’t live up to her expectations. The Malfoy’s were one of, if not, the most powerful family of wizards. They had money, status, wealth, and power; something some people can only dream of, but something you were scared of. You and Draco came from two completely different backgrounds. You were not a pureblood Slytherin and you knew that this may pose a problem, considering how passionate Narcissa Malfoy was about having a pureblood line.Your parents were both wizards, your father was a Ravenclaw, mother a Slytherin. Of course, when you got to Hogwarts, you took after your mother, the sorting hat calling out Slytherin before the hat even touched your head, making you smile wide. Your parents weren’t very wealthy, money wasn’t something you had excess of. They had made you get a summer job alongside muggles, they insisted that teaching you the value of money at a young age would instill good habits in you. But now that you were taken by a Malfoy, money was never really a problem. If you even mentioned in passing that you wanted or needed something, it would be on your bed the next day with a love note from Draco. But still, you weren’t raised like that and the idea of spending money frivolously made your nerves act up. 

Your thoughts are halted when you arrive at Draco’s door, tapping gently on his door. In two seconds, the door swings open to reveal a smiling Draco. He looks handsome, black turtleneck and blazer, freshly pressed trousers, and shiny black leather shoes. Draco looks you up and down and his smile grows wider if possible. “Perfect,” he coos before grabbing your waist and kissing you sweetly. He always knew what to say. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, nervously straightening out the pleats in your dress. 

Draco closes his door behind him and takes your hand in his, making your way to the outside of the castle. “Oh, don’t worry. Mother will adore you. I just know it,” he squeezes your hand. “And if she doesn’t, too bad because I love you.” You give him a weak smile and kiss his cheek. At least you knew that Draco would be at your defense if all else fails. 

The trip to the Wiltshire was smooth, but you were anything but. Thoughts circled your head constantly. What if she knows I’m not a pure blood Slytherin? What if she thinks I’m dressed inappropriately? What if she heard from Lucius that he thinks I’m a stupid git? What if she takes one look at me tells me to leave? But these thoughts didn’t help the time move slower. 

And there you were, standing in front of Malfoy Manor, Draco’s fingers laced with yours, you holding his arm for extra support. You bit your lip nervously, scanning Draco’s face, looking for any hesitation. If he told you that he changed his mind, you would not hesitate leaving the manor right now. But it’s far too late when Draco has knocked on the large door in front of him. “You’ll be brilliant,” Draco tells you, kissing your nose.

Before you can open up your mouth to respond, the large door swings open to reveal Narcissa Malfoy. You expected someone else to open the door, but no, there she was in her full glory. Narcissa was more beautiful than you could ever expect. Brown hair pulled in an updo, while the platinum blonde that matched Draco’s fell on her shoulders perfectly. She wore a dark green snakeskin jacket that fell to the floor with a luxurious silk black dress and black leather boots. “There’s my boy,” she smiles, opening her arms to which Draco entered, hugging his mother tightly. Your nervousness subsided slightly as you watched the boy you loved give his mother a warm embrace. “I’ve missed you dearly,” she whispers in her son’s ear, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. 

They break their embrace before Draco steps to the side and says, “Mother, this is (Y/N). She’s my girlfriend. (Y/N), this is my mother.” After he says that, his eyes dart back and forth between his mother and you. He’s so nervous of who will speak first, how she will react to you, how you will react to her. He just wants the two women he loves to get along. 

Gulping hard, you decide to speak first. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy. Draco has told me so much about you,” you offer her the warmest smile you could ever produce and extend a hand out to shake hers. 

Narcissa laughs and pushes your hand away. Your heart stops. She hates me already. It hasn’t even been five minutes and she wants me dead. “Don’t be silly, (Y/N). Call me Narcissa,” she speaks and immediately wraps you in a hug, squeezing you so tight. Your eyes widen as you look at Draco whilst hugging his mother. You have never seen Draco smile this big before in his life. His happiness makes you happy as you hug his mother back tightly. She pulls away, holding you back at arm’s length to take a good look at you. “Draco, you did not do Miss (Y/N) justice in describing her. She is even more beautiful than I could ever imagine,” she looks at her son with a smile. Draco smiles wide as you thank her for the compliment. “You two must be cold and hungry from the trip here. Please, come in, I have a kettle on the stove and biscuits.”

Draco leads you into the manor, you look around, taking its in stunning architecture and decor. The manor was decorated with ornate pieces in emerald green, blacks, and greys. The staple color palette of Slytherins. “Your home is beautiful, Narcissa,” you compliment.

“Thank you, darling,” she coos as she walks you and Draco into the main dining room, a long black marble table stretched from one end of the room to the other. Three place settings are at one end, green and silver tea cups and saucers sit beautifully on the table with plates of biscuits, sweets, and other foods. “This house has been in the Malfoy family for generations. It all started with Armand Malfoy who-”

“Mother, please,” Draco whines, knowing that this story would last for ages if his girlfriend let his mother tell the entirety of the story. 

Narcissa rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, Draco doesn’t like my storytelling. He thinks I make the story longer than I need it to be,” Narcissa looks at her son, eyebrows raised giving him a knowing look as Draco mockingly laughs at her. “I think I tell stories just fine.”

You decide to add a little wood on the fire and tease Draco right back. “He does the same with me. I cannot possibly tell him a story of my day when he gets bored the moment I open my mouth. Not to mention, he is the one who asked for the story in the first place!” you tease, causing Draco to look at you, feigning offense. 

His mother laughs brightly, throwing her head back. “Yes! Exactly! Oh, Draco, I’m so glad you brought home a lady who has a sense of humor. Come, (Y/N), follow me in the kitchen. I’ll tell you the story of the Manor whilst Draco waits out here for the tea to finish steeping,” Narcissa links your arms together and every single bit of nervousness and fear melts away in that moment. “Draco, dear, get napkins for us,” she instructs before whisking you away into the kitchen, asking what tea preference you have. 

Hours have past, and here you were sitting at the Malfoy’s dining room table, tears in your eyes from laughing alongside Narcissa. She has now pulled out Draco’s baby book, pointing out pictures of the young child in the bathtub, soap sudds all over his head, naked little body in the shallow water. “He was two and a half here. He had just come back from a walk in the garden and he was covered in mud. The poor child had fallen into a puddle and was crying that he got dirty and demanded a bath,” Narcissa recalls the happy memory as Draco groans and leans back in his chair as you gaze upon the sweet photo. 

“Aw, come on, Draco, you look adorable,” you coo as your fingers delicately touch the image pasted onto the parchment of the baby book. Draco shoots you a menacing glare as you giggle, flipping to the next page. 

The day was going so smoothly. Narcissa asked you about school, your passions, how you and Draco fell in love...she wanted to know everything about you. She was so kind, it reminded you of how kind Draco could be. He had obviously inherited that from his mother and not his father. You were shocked. How could someone so lovely be married to someone so cruel? 

Wiping the tear from the corner of her eye, Narcissa closes the baby book. “Alright, I think Draco has had enough teasing for today,” she says as Draco huffs a finally. “Darling, could you go bring the teacups into the kitchen please?” she asks Draco as he happily obliges. “So, tell me, (Y/N),” she starts when Draco leaves the dining room. “And tell me honestly, where do you see this relationship with Draco going? Is there a future?” she asks, her hands finding yours, giving them a light squeeze, hoping that the answer is yes.

Now this was something you could talk about. “Narcissa, I love your son more than the sun loves the moon. He’s my everything,” you confess to her, making a grin appear on her face. “He makes me the happiest I have ever been,” you tell her simply.

“We do intend on getting married, Mother,” Draco interrupts the conversation as you and Narcissa shoot him a look, letting him know that he ruined the sweet moment between the two women. “Was I not supposed to say that?”

You laugh and shake your head, “You’re fine, darling. But yes, we do plan on getting married immediately after we done with school.” 

This makes Narcissa just beam with joy. “Thank Merlin,” she places a hand over her heart. “I was hoping you would say that. I didn’t want someone like Pansy Parkinson marrying my son,” she tells you, causing you to look at Draco as you two both laugh. “Well, just so you know (Y/N), you know that you are welcome to move in here with myself, Draco, and my husband after you finish your education. This home is also your home. Not to mention, I would love another lady in the house,” she tells you with a wink.

Her offer makes your heart glow. When Draco proposed this a week ago, your nerves set in and made you worry. But now thinking about living in the manor with Draco and his wonderful mother only made your heart swell with love and adoration. “Thank you, Narcissa, from the bottom of my heart. It means the world to me that you would open your home to someone like me,” you tell her.

Narcissa furrows her brows and realizes what you were talking about. “Just because you aren’t pureblood Slytherin doesn’t make you any less of a wonderful woman and witch. My son loves you which only makes me love you even more,” she tells you before stroking your cheek with her finger. Her gesture makes you tear up a little bit. This woman radiated kindness and you didn’t understand how you were so lucky to love a boy who had the most incredible woman as a mother. 

Draco looks upon the two of you and his heart could not be more full. His mother loved you as if you were her own and he could only imagine how happy that made you. Draco watched the two women he loved have their own moment, a smile plastered on his face. “I hate to do this, but we should really be heading back to school. I have a quidditch match tomorrow and need to rest up for it,” Draco speaks. 

“Oh, of course, darling,” Narcissa speaks as the three of you rise from the table. “You know you are always welcome to come home whenever you please. No need to let me know when you are coming. The doors are always open,” Narcissa tells you both. She walks you both to the door and you have to admit, you were a little sad to leave. There was still so much to talk about. Narcissa looks at you and smiles sweetly. “It was so lovely to finally meet you, (Y/N).”

You take Narcissa’s hands and give them a squeeze. “Same to you. You are so lovely, today was wonderful,” you admit as she scoops you into an embrace. “I’m sure we will see each other again soon.”

Narcissa gives you a sweet smile and tells you to send an owl if you were in need of anything. She then looks to her son and cups his cheeks, looking him in the eyes with so much love. She places a tender kiss on his forehead before giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, Mother,” Draco holds his mother in his arms for a long while and you swear you can hear a small sob escape from Narcissa’s lips. She loved this boy so much, it seems like she would break. “I’ll be home for Christmas. Maybe (Y/N) can spend some time with us,” he offers as you shake your head excitedly. You can only imagine how beautifully the Manor would be decorated for the holidays. 

The two of you leave the Manor, hand in hand as Narcissa waves goodbye and blows a kiss before shutting the door. You look at Draco and he just laughs. “What?” you ask, slapping his arm. “What’s so funny, you bloody idiot?”

“I think my Mother loves you more than she loves me,” he laughs as you roll your eyes. 

“I’m starting to like your mother more than I like you,” you joke as he acts hurt. “Kidding,” you laugh as you kiss him sweetly. “Maybe.”

[mrsgiovanna]

Catharsis

A shameless (well maybe a little shameful, haha) self indulgent continuation of my selfship fic, featuring @thequeenofthenightgentlyweeps gorgeous OC Ari (rather hinting at) and @donvilaro OC Niccolo :) I hope my descriptions are true to form <3

Word count: 3.5k

“Stop sulking Bri, we’ve had this discussion every day since I reassigned you…” there was a playful lilt to Giorno’s voice, Bria looked over to find him trying to stifle a laugh at her.

“More like, fired me,”

“So harsh, cara, you're making me sound like a monster, I’d like to think of it as a promotion,” Giorno walked over to where Bria was standing and wrapped an arm around her. She fought the urge to smile and melt into his embrace, and turned away to face the window in an attempt to hide her expression, eventually having given up to meet his softened gaze.

“I’ve always been involved in everything… For years… This feels weird,"

"Perhaps then, you deserve this break, no? Besides, there's a lot I’ll need to discuss with you when Mista and I get back from Sicily tomorrow, so you're not going to be bored for much longer, amore" offered Giorno in a soothing tone.

It had been a few months since the altercation with Bria's father. He had since left Italy but was being closely monitored by some of Giorno's foreign associates. He was hellbent on preventing Mahin from ever coming into contact with Bria. Her recovery was slower than he had anticipated, GER had taken care of her physical injuries, but she was still emotionally vulnerable and lacked the usual sparkle he had come to expect from her. It hurt him to see her in that condition; even worse still, was the feeling of helplessness; what she needed was time to properly process everything. He tried to maintain his usual demeanor around her, playfully teasing her whenever the opportunity presented itself and he could tell from her responses she was trying hard to return to her former self.

On most days Bria would be close to him, helping him with his tasks and offering her input when needed. The rest of the time would be spent quietly studying with each other. However, it was days like these, when he had to leave her behind, that he worried the most.

Thankfully, the others proved to be a great source of comfort and support for her, which made him feel better about having to leave her with Bucciarati while he travelled to Sicily.

"Okay, that sounds interesting, I'll look forward to that… And Giogio? Thank you… I know what you've been doing this whole time and I appreciate it," her soft expression of gratitude brought a smile to Giorno's face, as he tightened his grip around her. Following a soft knock on the door, Bucciarati had announced his presence and informed Giorno that Mista had arrived and was awaiting him so they could leave.

"Well, that's my cue, I'll see you later on bella mia, try not to miss me too much,"

"Oh how will I possibly go on? Haha, be safe, okay?" With a tiny kiss pressed to her temple the young Don had made his exit, leaving Bria with Bucciarati who still wore the smile on his face from how pure their interactions were.

Out of everyone there, Bria had known Bruno the longest. Starting off as partners on missions, her brash mannerisms grated on him, and she couldn't understand how someone as mild mannered as he was could function in the mafia. After a while though they had started to understand each other, each seeing how the other was forged by their circumstances. Bria had to be tough, having been born into this life of crime, and Bruno had tried to hold on to the values instilled in him by his father.

Under Bucciarati’s supervision, Bria had learned how to manage her reactions, and developed a bit more poise under his care, and he gained a fierce, loyal follower, one who would become the first recruit of his own little unit.

"How do you feel today, Bri?" he asked, staring inquiringly at her face

"I'm okay… you look well, who do we have to thank for that?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"Feeling brave today, aren't we? I actually have something I want to give you, come on, let’s go make some breakfast," suggested Bruno through his laughter. The pair made their way downstairs toward the kitchen, and when she got there, Bria immediately switched on the coffee machine and started cutting up some fruit.

"Ah Bruno! You have to try these fluffy pancakes that I learned to make for Giogio. They're Japanese souffle pancakes, I know souffle is French, don’t tell Mr Pol… it won't take long, I have… What?"

"Nothing, nothing, sorry I was just lost in thought," replied Bruno, musing at how much both Bria and Giorno had matured in that short period of time. Thankfully, it seemed, his initial fears were for nothing, all his concerns had been laid to rest when he observed how they had behaved. Gently pulling the knife from her hand, Bruno had taken over from her, asking her to sit down and relax for once.

"I'm okay… I see how you all look at me, all pitiful… I'm okay…"

"Giorno's worried about you… We all are… Talk to me Bri,"

There was a moment of hesitation, but the young girl decided to open up to him.

"It's just… This weird mess with my father made me miss my mother even more than usual… I have so many questions. Would she be angry with how I handled everything? I'm almost too sure she would have handled it better… I just really miss her… but I know she’s probably so disappointed in me… wherever she might be,"

Bruno looked at a troubled Bria, her brows furrowed, lost in her thoughts. It was the expression she wore most frequently these days, and it hurt everyone to see the once lively girl shrink away in that manner.

“Bri, I’m going to tell you something I haven’t mentioned to anyone before, but I hope it can help you chase away those intrusive thoughts about your mother,” Bruno set a cup of sweetened coffee before Bria, and started to relay his tale regarding the period of time between his death and resurrection.

“It was just as you all had seen, I had ascended, my father was on the other side waiting for me, and I swear, I'd never been more at peace… we spoke for what felt like hours. Walked around a place that felt so much like my childhood home, but more peaceful somehow… there was no judgement there, nothing malicious, just love. My point is that there’s no reason why it wouldn’t be the same for you… our lives aren't as different as you think Bria, and you were a child when you were forced into Passione… just like me… you did your best, nobody would fault you for any of that, least of all your mother,”

“I guess you’re right… I didn't think of it like that,”

“Sometimes all you need is a fresh perspective from someone older and wiser…"

"Older maybe… wiser though?" teased Bria, feeling a lot better than she just a few hours ago.

"Sticky f-"

"Sorry! Sorry! Anything but that!"

"I'll let you go… Just this once,"said Bucciarati with a slight chuckle, relieved that she looked to be in higher spirits than she had been in the recent past.

“Bruno, can I ask you something?” the young man gestured for her to continue while he cleared away their coffee cups and started preparing the ingredients for breakfast.

"What was it like when you were coming back? Did you get a chance to say goodbye?" Bria's question hung in the air as Bruno thought of how to frame his answer.

“Well picolina, at first I didn't even know I was leaving… I should have been more aware when my father had redirected us back towards the spot I had found myself in when I had arrived, and started talking about how proud he was of me… come to think of it, he had been saying goodbye all along. To be fair though, I thought I was a permanent fixture there. Only when I was on the verge of reopening my eyes here did I notice myself starting to fade from that world. It didn’t hurt, it was just extremely disorienting,” as Bria pondered on all that Bruno had said, he also thought about a conversation he had had with an unknown man, imploring him to save his daughter… ever since then, he had experienced a recurring dream about a flaxen-haired beauty with the sparkliest silver eyes. Bria’s voice had pulled him from his thoughts once more as she started to apologise for her inability to protect them.

“I’m sorry you’ve have to go through so much Bruno, I wish that-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, there was nothing anyone could have done differently, and besides, if things didn’t happen the way that they did, Giorno would have never been pushed to learn about that ability, it was all fated to happen that way… things will happen whether we want them to or not, it’s up to us to find meaning in them,” Bria smiled at the sentiment imbued in Bruno’s words, she knew that it couldn't have been easy for him to tell her everything that happened but he did it all the same, just to make her feel better. The duo had spent the rest of the day quietly milling about the villa, reminiscing over a few of Bria’s old photos and personal effects that she had yet to put away and he had finally given her the present he bought her for the birthday he had missed. The younger girl was delighted with the little golden ladybug necklace, and had chosen to don it immediately. One by one the others had returned to the villa after their missions and had congregated around the kitchen. Abbacchio and Bruno were engrossed in an animated conversation while choosing a bottle of wine to pair with dinner while Bria and Narancia tried (and failed) to study.

Roughly 700 km away Giorno and Mista were making their way to their last and most important meeting of the day. With his focus having shifted back onto Passione, Giorno had noticed a few strange occurrences with the migration of many of Diavolo’s apologists towards Sicily. In an attempt to get to the bottom of what was going on and build an alliance that could strengthen his position, Giorno had requested to meet with the leader of one of the largest organisations in Sicily, Niccolo Vilaro, the Don of Sangue Reale. When Mista and Giorno had arrived at the expansive mansion, they were received by Niccolo himself. He was a young man, and couldn't have been older than Bucciarati or Abbacchio. Sharply dressed but still leaning on the edgy side, he wore a smirk on his stubbly face. He cut a striking figure with his sandy blonde hair and piercing amber eyes, oozing confidence in every one of his imposing gestures.

“Ah! Giorno Giovanna, the man himself… welcome to Sicily, I take it you’ve been treated well thus far?”

“Niccolo, thank you for having us at such short notice, this should have happened sooner but there was an urgent matter that needed my attention,” replied Giorno in his usual polite tone. The older don’s gaze shifted from Giorno to Mista and back, hardly trying to conceal his confusion, he had asked Giorno where the third member of his unit was.

“Come on Giorno, where is the siren you’re usually seen travelling with? I was excited to see Passione’s angel and you’ve robbed me of the chance,”

“She’s otherwise engaged... I thought we were here to talk business-”

“You’ve gotta loosen up Giorno,"said Niccolo with a laugh, as he slapped Giorno between the shoulder blades which only deepened the scowl on the young Don's face. Not wanting the meeting to break down into chaos, Mista had placed a reassuring hand on Giorno's shoulder and whispered to him to keep his wits about him.

“This man is pissing me off!” snapped Giorno under his breath, but maintained his calm demeanor.

Following Niccolo through his home and into his study, both Mista and Giorno were taken aback by the overall feel of his home, modern wide open spaces, tastefully decorated but still hinted at his massive fortune and influence.

“So Giorno, battling to keep your soldiers about you hey? I kid, I kid, it’s better that these traitors flee now; saves you the trouble of having to dispose of them yourself hey… Cigar? They’re the finest Cubans,” offered Niccolo.

“I’m not much of a smoker I’m afraid… but go ahead,” the Sicilian don sat across from the pair of visitors, and eyed them pensively.

“Do you want me to get rid of the rats, I’m able to dispose of them relatively harmlessly… well no harm to me anyway,” suggested Niccolo with a sardonic grin. Giorno battled to read the man, which frustrated him, but he knew he needed him on his side, should things escalate.

“Not at all, Niccolo, I feel they’ve already drowned themselves without even knowing it, I just hope that they won’t find any lifelines here in Sicily,”

“As if my organisation has a place for Passione rejects? Don’t worry, I have no use for them here. To be quite honest, Giorno, I was happy when you assumed the power of Passione. Diavolo, my father, Mahin, they were all relics of an inconvenient past… It's unfortunate my father was assassinated before he could see my vision, but I guess that's what we have to accept when we live lives like these… what? Are you surprised that I know about the demon?” asked the older don in response to Giorno’s reaction at the mention of Bria’s father. He continued, “I’ll be honest, this team of yours has fascinated me since its emergence, and I’m looking forward to the direction we could steer this country in… you’re an interesting man Giorno, I look forward to working with you”

The rest of the evening was spent with the three young Mafiosi conceptualizing their plans and solidifying their alliance, and after having ironed out all there was to, the head of Passione and his underboss had left. Swirling the last sip of bourbon in his glass the sarcastic smile never left his face as he reflected on the meeting that just took place. There were still many questions floating around in his mind but he knew that he would eventually furnish them with answers; all he needed to do was bide his time.

After an exhausting, and frustrating day, Giorno and Mista didn’t spend too much of their time going over the events, choosing rather to get a good night’s rest, saving the discussion for when they were back at Giorno’s villa amongst the people that they had trusted most. Before they knew it, they were back on the jet en route to Naples, both thankful to be heading back with all of their objectives for the trip being achieved.

Giorno had walked into the familiar, warm confines of the villa he called home. Smiling at the commotion he was walking into, all it took was him announcing his presence for Bria to run into his arms, knocking the air out of him on the impact.

“What’s going on in there? We could hear you guys all the way from the gates,”

“Its all Bria and Bruno’s fault, they’ve been telling us about all the dumb things they’ve done in the past,” explained Narancia while trying to contain his laughter.

“Hey, you started it! You called baby Bri an elf…”

“Baby Bria? I want to see this,” said Giorno as he took the picture from Narancia in spite of Bria’s protests. He pacified her by reassuring her that she was cute in spite of her raggedy appearance and that she had grown into her ears. The smile he wore had faded though when he had examined the picture more closely and found a tiny glimpse of the life he had left behind in the background.

“Who are all these dweebs anyway?” asked Narancia, peering over Bria’s shoulder. As she went through the faces one by one describing everyone she could, she stopped at the last little boy.

“This tiny one here… I didn’t know him really, he was very quiet and kept to himself mostly…” explained Bria, who was more concerned with the shift in Giorno’s demeanor as he quietly excused himself to go to his room. Thinking that he was just tired from his trip, she gave him some time to wind down, and continued her chat with the others, however, when she found he hadn't returned Bria had excused herself to go look for him.

After changing out of his suit and brushing out his hair, Giorno had decided the best place for him to clear his mind before returning to the others would be Bria's garden. He didn't expect for something so small to move him in such a big way, but being confronted with his past self in front of everyone who had only ever known him as "Giorno" had shaken him. He didn't really cry over being in emotional turmoil, but somehow this event had released his emotions which fell from his eyes, leaving sparkling trails down his handsome face.

When Bria found his room empty she decided to check the spot that Giorno had built for her, often finding him there when he needed to unwind from a long day. She softly announced herself approaching him from behind, prompting him to quickly dry his face with the back of his hands. This didn't go unnoticed though, and while it hurt Bria immensely to see Giorno like this, she had put aside her own feelings to be emotionally available for him.

“Oh, Bri… is something the matter?” asked the young Don, traces of his anguish still present in his voice.

“You looked upset before you left so I wanted to see if you were okay… you’re clearly not though, talk to me Gio…” the raven haired girl settled down next to Giorno and quietly waited for him to find his words. Hooking an arm around her, he brought her closer to him.

“I’m sorry cara, I’ve been in a weird mood since yesterday, seeing that picture just brought up things I wish would have stayed buried,” explained Giorno, pausing for a moment to think about what to say, he continued, “that picture of you and your friends… that last little boy… the one whose name you didn’t know, that was me… I was known as Haruno Shiobana back then,” A mixture of confusion and compassion tugged at Bria’s features, interlocking her fingers in his, she softly encouraged him to continue.

Giorno told her everything about his past, the difficulties he had faced with his cold mother, the pain he endured at the hands of his abusive step father, the numerous bullies, and the chance encounter with the nameless gangster which had turned his life around and the metamorphosis he had undergone when his stand power began to manifest; he had bared the truest version of himself before her. For the duration of his speech, Giorno didn’t look at Bria once, fearful of the expression he would find on her face. What he would have found though, were all his unshed tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, and falling relentlessly down her face.

“Giorno, I’m so sorry, I… just know that none of us will ever allow you to feel that way ever again… you’re so much more than just enough… to some of us, you’re absolutely everything… Whether you’re Haruno Shiobana or Giorno Giovanna, you’re the person who had liberated us and given me back something so precious I still don’t quite know how to thank you… my point is that you are you and we’ll love you all the same,” The emphatic way in which Bria expressed her admiration brought a smile back to Giorno’s face. He turned to face her, cupping her cheek, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe the remnants of tears from her face.

“Come now amore, you shouldn’t be crying like this,” said Giorno in a muffled voice as he placed a kiss on top of the delicate hand that tried to encase his own.

The pair spent a few moments in a comfortable silence, watching the sun drape colourful tapestries across the sky as it set, before Bria had suggested that they join the others.

“Are you ready to go back in tesoro?” a rose tinted blush warmed Giorno’s cheeks at the epithet, to which he silently nodded in response. The pair walked back hand in hand to join the rowdy bunch, staying near each other for the remainder of the night. In between stealing loving glances at Bria, matching Abbacchio's snark and laughing at Narancia and Mista’s antics, Giorno had felt what she had been explaining to him in their garden. This group of people, the bunch of misfits who saved the very society they were shunned by, all drawn together by fate were his new family, and they had each accepted and loved him unconditionally in their own little ways.

[fancybelieverdinosaur]

A rough translation of the latest pod… I actually found it quiet funny 🤷‍♀️ especially that P admitted that she is bad at cooking 😅

Pernille on the continued praise: I don’t think about it a lot. I have kind of gotten used to it. As long as I am being highlighted for good topics it makes me proud. It makes me proud because It is topics I am passionate about, equal rights for example. So when I’m being highlighted I know there are people listening who knows that I’m trying to make a difference.

Pernille talking about herself as a footballer: it is always difficult to talk about yourself. But I am very ambitious, very goal oriented, I want to achieve as much as possible in my career. Outside the pitch I am much more down to earth, quiet, calm. I care about some important topics. Try to make the world a better place.

Pernille on her strengths: I am very goal oriented. I rarely give up.

Junge on Pernille’s strengths: she dares to speak up. Especially concerning Lgbtq she’s really started to speak up. I remember when we were younger, she could seem like the quiet type, but on topics she really cared about, whether it was football or her agenda, she spoke her mind. She is not necessarily the loudest but she will speak her mind and that is one of her strengths.

Pernille on speaking her mind: it is some thing I had to grow into especially as I got older. And as Junge said, it is something I have started to do the last couple of years. I had to become comfortable with myself and trust my opinions. I think I have the right opinions and if I can get someone else to listen, I feel like I have succeeded.

Pernille on doubting (herself): I think everyone will have doubts. everyone will have good periods and bad periods. luckily for me there is far between the bad periods and when they do arrive I will work my way out of it. I will do so through mental training and through experience. Knowing what I am capable of. It will hit you throughout your career. It can even be a season that is quite good. For example last year when I changed to Chelsea and arrived with a lot of expectations. And sometimes I did start to doubt whether I could live up to the expectations. That kind of thoughts will even I get. But when i do, I work my way out of it. I think about the process and the things that I am capable of controlling.

Pernille on seeming calm and living up to expectations: there is a lot of expectations. But it’s some thing I’ve gotten used to. But again it’s thinking about the process, the things I can do better, but also knowing there are things that I am fully capable of. And those I lean on. So it’s about not letting your emotions drive you, but focusing on the things that you can control. It’s important not to act on your emotions. for example in a game it is important to get the frustrations out elsewhere than on the pitch. Otherwise I might end up with a red card. Or if I have lower self-esteem it would mean I do not want to receive the ball. So it’s important to use the brain more than the emotions. But there is definitely girl who sometimes doubts herself behind the strong for facade.

Pernille on her continued development: In specifics, there are a few things around the box, improve my decision making to make the changes even bigger. I will continually aim to improve even if there are people who think that I am already good at it.

Pernille on how she got to where she is: it has a lot to do with my family. When I was younger I didn’t really appreciate the time and the miles they put in. But it has had a major influence. And then because it’s always been a dream, and I’ve sacrificed what I had to to obtain that dream. Worked crazy hard.

Pernille on the drive for success: I think it’s an inner motivation. A wish for becoming one of the best. An acceptance that I had to get up early to get to the Academy training. I remember being nervous before every session, but I made myself endure it. There was just an inner drive to be better. It is kind of difficult to explain.

Pernille on whether she’s good at taking time off: I’ve become better at it. When I was younger I weren’t very good at it. My parents both instilled that you have to work hard and cannot sleep your way through it, but also to enjoy life. Otherwise it gets too hard if everything is about football. But I haven’t always been good at it. Are used to be addicted to training.

Pernille on her ambitions back in 2013: even back then I had big ambitions. I went into the euros in Sweden at age 21 wanting to win at all and be the best. I wanted to be the best even when I was a 16-year-old playing with 32-year-olds. But not just individually, I also wanted what was best for the national team, for us to get as far as possible.

Pernille on what she would’ve wanted to know back then: I don’t know actually. I was pretty smart already back then. But I think, at the bottom of it, you can make it very far if you work for it and have the will to do so. It is not all talent. I have seen a few players throughout my time and it is not necessary to have the most talent but you have to have a crazy work ethic and have a winning mentality. And that can really take you far.

Pernille on decisive moves throughout her career: my change to Linkjoping. I chose not to go to the big clubs, but went to one that needed me as a player. But I was incredibly lucky to get a coach after half a year, to this day is still the best coach I’ve had. That really developed me as a player. But other than that my moves have been very thought through. Only taking the next step when I was ready for it. I only moved to Wolfsburg when I was ready for it and then later Chelsea. Because for some young players everything can move too fast. When as a young player there’s all the sudden interest you can make a decision that is not the best for you. And in that sense I think I’ve made the right decisions.

Pernille on what the The national team means: it means everything. To come home. To play for Denmark. It makes me incredibly proud. Especially in the big tournaments, Now that we’re heading to the euros I am just excited. Back in 2017 to see how we just gathered Denmark behind us, And we saw how the men did it last summer, we’re just looking forward to doing it again.

Junge on Pernille as a Captain: she takes responsibility but also let others. In the sense that she’s not very authoritative, she wants to listen to others. But when it is needed she will be the one in front. She wants to let her opinion be known. Show her experience. But at the same time she’s very open to others opinion and accepts that she doesn’t know it all.

Kuhl on Pernille as a captain: she’s very open. Has really embraced me. You really feel that she is aleader.

Pernille on herself as a captain: it is some thing I’m very aware of. As you said I was named captain quite early and it is some thing I had to learn over time. When I was 23 I didn’t think about it a lot, I was a lot more focused on being a captain on the pitch. I have had to learn that there was more to it. To also be a captain outside the pitch. But also that a captain doesn’t have to do it all but can delegate. I can delegate all the practical boring things. Just kidding, of course I can do the practical things as well. But I think it is important for a leader to realize that you can trust your teammates too. I think especially in the tough situation I enjoyed being the captain. Both outside the pitch if anyone has problems they can come to me. But also on the pitch if someone needs me to show the way. I’m very happy because it shows that my teammates trust and value what are you do and how I lead.

Pernille on what the national team wants to express: happiness. Togetherness. That we are playing to bring pleassure, make Denmark proud. That we are happy. Win matches. And play fun and interesting football.

Pernille on what she is bad at: I don’t think I’m bad at anything. No sure there is something. Some might think I’m bad at cooking.

Junge on what Pernille is bad at: Losing. But that might be an advantage in itself. I don’t actually know, but I have heard she’s bad at cooking. It’s her girlfriend that takes care of that. But that’s only something I’ve heard I’ve never experienced it.

Pernille on whether Junge is right: A bad loser yes for sure. But that is just a motivation to be better. As for the cooking, I am not the most creative. But I am very good at carrying out instructions. And although I might be the captain in Denmark, I am perfectly fine with taking a backseat concerning things I am not passionate about.

Pernille on the correlation between Pernille the footballer and Pernille the person: they are both similarities and differences. On the pitch I am a lot more outgoing, not necessarily aggressive, but more expressive. In private I am a lot more calm. But there are things that I care about off the pitch that I am as ambitious about as my football.

Kuhl on Pernille outside the pitch: she’s been open. Easy to talk to. Super nice.

Kuhl on Pernille as a role model: always been a big name that I have looked up to. It’s a name I remember from when I was very young. She has had a major influence for a lot of young girls including me. It was very prominent that she got her debut as a 16-year-old and scored a Hattrick, it is of course some thing I strive for too.

Junge on Pernille Outside the pitch: I think the easiest way to explain her is she has her legs solidly planted on the ground. She’s not let anything get to her head, become arrogant or anything. I really admire that she is still the same girl.

Pernille on staying humble: probably something I was raised with from home. A girl from Western Jutland cannot get to arrogant. And then because I’m not satisfied. There are still things I feel like I can improve.

Pernille The development of women’s soccer: it has really developed up a lot. Really sped up the last four or five years. I remember at my debut at the national team not a lot of games were shown on TV, not just in Denmark but in all of Europe. Now we see the big TV deals. So a lot is happening. both sky showing the English league and the Denz showing champions league. It shows that the women’s game is more attractive.

Pernille On the women’s game in Denmark: Because a lot of the international leagues are investing quite heavily, we see a lot of the Danish girls move abroad. So the Danish league has become a youth league. For the development of young players. It’s super cool to see your team as HB Køge, that are investing in their women’s team, they can make it to the champions league group stage. So I hope it is an eye-opener to a lot of the other teams. Especially the men’s team. If you invest just a little in the women’s game it goes a long way. It is worth the investment. But I would like the process to speed up. I hear from the girls on the national team how the facilities and the situation are here. I think it could get better. I think the bigger clubs should invest. It is not the biggest investment you have to make to ensure decent facilities. It is what it would take for me to come back to Denmark to play. The big clubs should invest more. We should recruit more foreign players. I am not sure currently any of the Danish clubs, maybe the top three, would be able to make it in the English league.

Pernille on future plans: yes I am getting old. Already at a quite young age I made a plan for how my career should play out. A few years at Chelsea now. I’d like to try a different European league. May be a few years in the States. But we will see how it plays out.

Pernille on what she wants to be remembered for: A player that has won and achieved a lot. But also just a dedicated player. Someone who’s been motivated and continue to improve even until the end. And someone who spoke up for the things that mattered.

Wow. I am speechless. Thank you🙌😍

[tinyyoungblood]

romance, eh? | peter parker

summary: it’s the broken main characters typeshi where they don’t think they deserve love, but over the course of the movie, they help each other and fall in love. football fields and late night drives. it’s kinda cute

pairing: peter parker x reader

trope: best friends to lovers

warning: language, very fluffy

a/n: i’ve resurrected from the dead, waddup <3

* * *

You were sat at the porch of your house, tossing rocks down the driveway and watching them skip toward a puddle. The sound of splashing water was the only source of entertainment as you were seemingly the only person alive in this town. When you realized that you had finally run out of stones to throw, you considered hurling the gnome down the driveway but decided against it and instead, patted your pockets in an attempt to locate your phone. To your surprise, it started ringing the second you held it in your palm. Peter’s name flashed boldly across the screen, illuminating your face. You answered the call and stood up.

“Where the hell are you?”

Loud rustling was on the other side of the line, and you squinted down the road in search of any approaching cars.

Finally, his familiar voice rang through the phone’s speakers. “Y/N, fuck, I’m—ow.” You heard a car door shut, and a string of curse words lingered at the tip of your tongue.

“Oh God, you’re not telling me you’re still at home, are you? Please tell me, you just closed the door to get out of your car and not in.” Absolute silence followed, and you could practically see him sit still like a deer caught in headlights. A beat followed before he replied carefully.

“What if I tell you I just entered a very sketchy dance battle in the middle of the forest and now it takes me 10 to 15, maybe even 20 minutes, to kick ass and get out of here?”

You took a deep breath and dragged your feet back to the porch, shunning it with a glare. “Parker, I swear to God, if I hear you turn on the engine right now, I’m going to set your Star Wars collection on fire.”

You heard him mumble something on the other side of the line, but were only able to pick out a soft “not cool”. The clanking of keys occurred next and before you knew it, the engine was yanked to life, making you groan loudly. “I hate you.”

You heard him set the phone down with a chuckle, switching to speaker. “I’ll get over it. Just don’t touch my Star Wars.”

You slumped back on the porch and grimaced at the spider web hanging above your head. Scooting away from it, you let your back hit the wooden ground, phone still pressed against your ear. “Just hurry up,” You murmured, defeat and exhaustion instilling a softness in your voice. He cooed at you.

“Don’t worry, I know there’s never any parking space on Thursdays, but I’ll run all the way from the parking lot to your house. Actually, I’ll start running the second this car is parked—no, wait, I’ll start running while I’m still in the car—”

“Peter,” you cut him off, knowing he could go on forever but still somehow end up not coming at all. “Just drive safely, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Fine,” he replied, “but I’ll have you know that I have now stomped two holes into the car’s floor to get to you Flintstone style. That’s the dedication we’re working with here.” A subtle click followed, signaling that he had ended the call.

Light laughter bubbled over your lips, and you shook your head at your best friend’s words. He was a dumbass, but at least he could make you laugh. One of the many reasons, you adored him. The rest of your life could be spent listing off the other reasons, but even in the afterlife, you wouldn’t be halfway done. You didn’t bother to sit up, opting to just lay on your back until either he would arrive or a passer-by would mistake you for a corpse and call the police. Whatever came first.

The next few minutes were waste of time. Now and then, a glance would be cast at the display of your phone, but that was really how far it went with the physical activity. For all Peter knew, you could’ve been dead when he finally arrived, dashing toward you like a maniac chased by the Holy Spirit. “Y/N?” He skidded to a halt and breathed hard. “You alive?” You felt him poke your side with his finger. Too drowsy to react, you simply lifted your hand and gave him a thumbs up. A grin swept over his lips, and he bent down to scoop you up, coaxing a sign of life out of you as you squealed but almost immediately after melted into his chest.

He chuckled and carried you to his car. “Hello to you too, baby.”

You forced an eye open. “Took you long enough.”

Shrugging, he cocked his head to the side and lifted the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you know, some girl was babbling my ear off while I was on my way here. Really messed up my schedule.” He pretended to scowl at you, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Seems like she didn’t do her job right.” You tucked at his earlobe, and he grimaced. “Such a bummer. You could’ve totally pulled off the Van Gogh look.”

He let you down into the passenger seat, shutting the door for you and setting his crossed arms on the rolled-down car window. “Oh yeah? You got a thing for dead artists now?” His face was in a twist, and you found yourself rolling your eyes again.

“I got a thing for guys who value punctuality,” you replied pointedly, and Peter let out a loud laugh. Leaning down, he came to an eye-level with you.

“Good thing, that’s not me then, am I right.” He winked and walked over to the driver’s side. In a second, he was seated next to you and reversing out of the parking lot, head turned to look behind him while his arm was holding onto the back of your seat. You took the second of concentration to take in his features. When he caught you staring, a smug smile raised to his lips, but you were quick to smack his chest with the back of your hand.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was just checking if you had a black eye or at least a broken nose,” you said and ignored the way he cocked his brow.

“Thanks?” His eyes flickered between you and the road. “I gotta tell you, that’s a very sadistic love language you speak, but I’ll take it.”

You shot him a glare. “How else do you want to explain being 40 minutes late if it wasn’t being robbed by a biker gang and left in a ditch?”

“My answer was lack of time management by birth, but your excuse does sound far cooler.”

“Well, sadly, there’s no biker gang.” You heaved a sigh of exhaustion. “Otherwise, I would’ve gladly let them de-ball you.”

Peter cackled at your words, shaking his head before reaching over to pat your knee. “And they say romance is dead. I bet they’ve never met a total sweetheart like you.”

You broke out into a grin and swiftly whipped around to stare outside the window. Deciding to roll it up to stop the fidgeting of your hands, Peter made it his mission to choose the perfect song for your little drive. When the song “Midnight City” came up, he stopped and turned to you while wigging his brows obnoxiously. Pointing to the time on the upper corner of the car’s display, he awaited your reaction. It was five minutes past midnight.

You sighed. “Peter…”

“Oh, shut it, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, morphing the pout on his face into a matching smirk. “You know,” he spoke up, still staring ahead, “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with you if you never appreciate my genius.” He gestured to his face, and you snorted.

Your eyes caught a brown bag that was sitting at your feet. “I’m here to keep your ego from exploding, I thought we’ve already gone over this—hey, what’s this?”

Peter glanced at you. “Booze.” He said it so casually you barely wondered how he got a hold of it. “You told me to get the good stuff, remember?”

Frowning, you leaned forward and tried to catch his gaze. His eyes flickered to yours. “What?”

“Since when is the good stuff not chocolate?”

He contemplated your words for a second before pulling a face. “Oh. Well, you wanted to bitch about our sucky love lives, so I assumed that involved liquor.” He shrugged. “To make it less excruciatingly painful, you know.” Eyeing the bottle in your hand, you pursed your lips, oblivious to Peter’s pleading look to just go with it. You hadn’t an idea what he had to go through just to swipe that bottle.

“I guess,” you finally replied and screwed off the cap to take a big gulp, feeling the liquid burn down your throat. Raising the bag, you flashed him a big smile. “Off to our voyage!”

He mirrored it, also raising his fist in the air. “Off to the deserted island named football field.”

- - - - -

“So what’s got your love life in a twist?” Peter asked casually while biting a piece off his sour belt. Within the past hour, the two of you had consumed a considerate amount of alcohol but had yet to experience feeling fatally wasted. A slight haze had infiltrated your senses, but that was really it. You both were still perfectly capable of having a proper conversation.

“You mean my panties?”

“Huh?” He narrowed his eyes in deep thought. “Oh, you want to talk about your underwear. Yeah, I guess that’s fine too.”

“No, you meant my panties are in a twist.” He turned to look at you.

“Why would your panties be in a twist? Do you want me to untwist them?” Slowly, the corner of his mouth curved into a not-so-subtle smirk, and you fought hard to keep a straight face.

“I really do hate you, Parker.”

He grinned back at you. “Means I must be doing something right, huh.”

Choosing to ignore his words, your gaze traveled the dark night sky above, littered with endless sparkling white dots. Peter mirrored your action, letting comfortable silence settle in, as the two of you continued to lay next to each other on top of the roof of his car.

“I don’t know,” you responded after a while. You felt him look the side of your face, but you forced yourself to fix your gaze on anything other than your best friend beside you, your fingers fiddled with one another in your lap. “I guess I just haven’t caught anybody’s eyes yet. No one really likes me, you know.”

“I like you.”

“You know what I mean, Peter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and took up the courage to meet his eyes. They weren’t holding any trails of pity like excepted. Instead, you gazed into nothing but a loving pool of honey that ignited clouds of warmth to swirl in your stomach. He looked at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, and you had to force yourself to look away, just barely missing the glint of disappointment as you broke the eye contact. You shrugged, an unsure smile gracing your lips. “Somebody will come along, I’m sure. Maybe at a hot dog stand. Hot dog stands are reliable, right?”

The tone in your voice, lacing your words like grapevine, was poisonous, making the boy beside you sit up and pull you right along. Your poor attempt of self-assurance didn’t sit right with Peter, but you didn’t feel like confronting it just yet, and he knew that. So, he tried to catch your gaze, and given that you had no other choice but to look at one of the most important people in your life, you dropped your shoulders and gave in. You simply stared at each other in silence, seemingly waiting for the other one to crack first. The serious situation quickly shifted into a comedic but intense stare battle and before you knew it, you were pulling faces at each other.

You were pretty certain, the alcohol in your system did not contribute a thing to it, but eventually, even the two of you would fall victim to it as you already felt it tuck at some loose strings. And Peter being Peter, he spoke up first.

“If neither of us cracks any time soon, we will both look like fools who escaped a mental institution and are roleplaying as Harley Quinn and the Joker.”

And just like that, laughter bubbled over your lips, prompting a face-splitting smile to dance on his lips while his eyes were staring at you like you had created all good in the world. It quickly turned into heartfelt laughter and once he joined in, it only made you laugh harder.

Your eyes drifted until they met those familiar honey ones again. The ones you have known since childhood, and the ones you had stared into one too many times tonight. And suddenly the entire world was encased into an incredulously large pool of amber that you never wanted to leave. It made sense. It just clicked, and suddenly the riddle was complete.

And the best part about it all was that you knew he felt the same way. He had never been an easy book to read, not even when you were children, but that night, in the middle of the football field, you could read him like he was your favorite poem. Each line and metaphor were as clear as the sky. Without having acknowledged it much, your face had grown closer in proximity with his. So, when he decided to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper. The alcohol easily fanning over your lips in waves.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He inched closer, nose bumping against yours while his gaze danced between your lips and your eyes. “To find out how your lips feel on mine.”

His words caused newfound confidence to surge through your veins. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk, and you leaned forward. Lips brushing against his when you spoke. “I can put it on my to-do list if you want to know so badly.”

He chuckled, hand reaching up to cup your cheek while the other slid across your back. “Baby, you don’t understand how badly I want to know.”

He pressed his lips against yours, and immediately you sunk into the pool of amber. But you could taste more than just alcohol. There were honey and warmth. The way he made you feel—the way he had always made you feel all along, even in the most platonic ways. When cracking jokes or during shared detention. There had always been clouds of sweetness and joy surrounding you whenever he was near, but now that you had finally acquired the taste, you were addicted. You were making out with your best friend, and you loved everything about it. His arms tightened around you as you caressed his heated cheeks. They traveled to the back of his neck, threading through the curls of his hair, and pressing him closer to you.

When it was time to break away, you nibbled on his bottom lips, reluctantly parting, but still remaining close as his forehead rested against yours. He stared into your eyes with a whimsical smile while he tried to catch his breath. “Do you still hate me?”

You chuckled. “You know what, Parker?” Shaking your head, you tried to catch the train of thought you were losing just by gazing into his eyes. “Just a little bit.”

* * *

it’s 4 am here, and i’m pretty sure i’m sleeping as i’m typing this lol i had way too much fun with the dialogue. let me know what you think! as always, thank you so much for reading 💞 have a sweet one, guys x

masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland @himarisolace @duskholland @insidiousslut @siriuslyslyslytherin @quaksonhehe @geminiparkers @writertoo18 @fl0ating @luwloki @missnxthingg @hufflepuffhollander @dummiesshort @itstaskeen @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @totallyfangirling7177 @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @starlight-starks @fire1ordzuzu @parkerlovebot @parkerlovebot @ethereal-beauty-p​ @theweekendss @tom-hlover @peterspideysstuff @miraclesoflove @prettysbliss @fancyxparker @tom-hlover @blossomparkers 

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Hills of Marigold

Before that, we must find love and fill the vessel with it. (Chapter 500) | Discord Secret Santa 2020 for @chavelink​. | AO3 | Holiday Prompt: Day of the Dead.

                                ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts with Kakashi’s sticker chart.

Naruto is not quite old enough for the Academy yet, but his eagerness to become a shinobi is almost as vast as his ability to turn his home upside down the minute his parents look away.

Though Kakashi’s duties don’t usually leave him much time for babysitting, he knows more than most how rare it is that the Hokage gets free time, so he volunteers himself twice a month to be subject to the hurricane that is five-year-old Uzumaki Naruto in his sensei’s stead.

Out-running Naruto is not the problem. Kakashi is certainly fast enough to reach him before he can do any permanent damage. What really perplexes Kakashi is how to keep a five-year-old entertained. Naruto is more loud, curious and insistent on clinging to Kakashi every minute of he’s around than anyone he’s ever met. (Even Gai can be reasoned with, Kakashi thinks, trying to make rice with two sticky hands tugging on his jōnin blues.)

“Why can’t we eat ramen instead, Kakashi-niichan?” Naruto complains, scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t have any nutritional value,” Kakashi replies, sighing.

Naruto pauses, and though Kakashi’s eyes are on the stovetop, he knows the younger boy is frowning. “What’s that?”

“Vitamins and minerals. Those things are in the vegetables you’re going to eat.” He eyes the other pan, and decides it’s time to plate the sweet potato and broccoli. Naruto doesn’t look particularly enthused, so Kakashi reminds him, “If you want to become a ninja, you’ll have to eat the kind of food which makes you stronger.”

At the mention of the word ‘ninja,’ Naruto’s face lights up. “Hey, Kakashi-nii, teach me a jutsu!”

It’s not the first time Naruto has asked, and Kakashi usually flat-out refuses. Naruto is destructive enough without any shinobi techniques. But an idea suddenly strikes Kakashi. “How about we make a deal?”

The deal Kakashi proposes is premised on the most basic of tactics Minato-sensei has instilled in his team: Positive reinforcement. If Naruto behaves well enough, Kakashi will teach him something.

It becomes clear to Kakashi in the first hour or so that Naruto’s impatience outweighs his focus. With the prospect of a ninja technique on the line, he is far more concerned about hassling the information out of Kakashi than he is about washing up after lunch, or cleaning his room. So it falls on Kakashi to improvise.

Kakashi holds up the latest Ichiraku flyer. “You see these stickers?” he asks.

“So we are getting ramen?” Naruto asks, bouncing on his heels.

“Not today.” Carefully, Kakashi peels up a circle which announces a 10% off deal on yakisoba. “If you can earn five of these stickers, I’ll teach you how to knock someone my size off of their feet. But I’ll keep the flyer with me, so there’s no cheating.”

Kakashi’s plan is more effective than he could’ve predicted. Not only does Naruto manage to keep himself clean the rest of the afternoon, but his attempts at taijutsu tire him out to the point where, for once, he is asleep in bed by the time Minato and Kushina come home.

“Are you interested in becoming a jōnin-sensei, Kakashi?” Minato asks him with a wide smile.

“Not on your life,” says Kakashi, shunshin-ing away with a wave.

—

Whether he likes it or not, Kakashi does become something of a teacher to Naruto. The young boy, distracted as he is, doesn’t shy away from hard work, as long as it’s something that interests him. After a while, they make their way through some basic attack and defence strategy (though Naruto seems to rely much more heavily on the former). Kakashi even tries to work with him on chakra control, but despite his size, Naruto’s chakra reservoir is enormous, so even gathering chakra to his palms proves difficult.

By the time they take a break in the late afternoon, Kakashi half-wishes he could reach for the book in his pocket and spend the rest of the day letting Naruto practice, but he knows shinobi at this age usually need supervision. He sighs, passing his hand over the dandelions wistfully.

“It’s not fair, y’know,” Naruto complains, sprawled out on the grass. “How come I can’t make my hands work like yours, Kakashi-nii?”

“You’re five,” Kakashi tells him, as if it’s that simple.

“But Sasuke can—”

Kakashi hears Naruto complain about Sasuke, his habitual playmate, often. Itachi’s little brother, if the name is anything to go by. Kakashi isn’t sure if Naruto sees Sasuke as his greatest enemy or best friend.

“It doesn’t matter how quickly you can learn. What’s important is that you work at it.” Kakashi says firmly. Sensing Naruto needs more reassurance, he adds, “Besides, Sasuke may not have as much chakra as you do.”

Naruto mulls this thought over, tugging the grass into his small fists. “Why not?”

Kakashi thinks of Kushina, and the overwhelming energy it must take just to contain her presence. “It seems to run in your family.”

As if summoned by these words, Kakashi feels a shift in the air which marks Naruto’s mother’s arrival. The sure-footed sound of her sandals landing on a tree branch, the smell of coconut oil from her hair, and the loud chakra signature which matches her son.

“It’s time for dinner, y’know!” Kushina announces, hands on her hips as she jumps down. “Minato made grilled saury, and I won’t have you boys coming back when it’s already cold.”

“Food!” Naruto says, hopping to his feet with a grin. He grabs his mother’s hand. “Let’s go, kaa-chan!”

Weakly, Kakashi tries to raise his hands in a warding gesture. “Actually, I have some food at home—”

“Nice try,” Kushina says, grabbing the collar of his flak vest with her free hand. “You’re coming too, Kakashi.”

Kakashi sighs, letting himself be tugged along. “Aren’t I too old for you to still be force-feeding me?”

“If you want to be a ninja, you have to eat strong things,” Naruto pipes up from Kushina’s side helpfully.

“You tell him, Naruto!” Kushina says, grinning at her son.

“I don’t like being a sensei,” Kakashi mutters under his breath, while Kushina and Naruto laugh at him.

—

Despite Kakashi’s words, dinner at the Uzumaki household isn’t so bad. Kushina may give him too many helpings of saury, Minato might be far too concerned about his social life, and Naruto might try to dump his vegetables on Kakashi’s plate, but there is a warmth in their home in which Kakashi cannot help but feel caught up.

It is this same warmth which has him linger after dinner is over, handing plates over to Kushina as Minato carries Naruto off to bed.

“I want to thank you, y’know,” Kushina says gently. “Naruto thinks pretty highly of you.”

Kakashi ducks his head, cheeks ruddy over the edge of his mask. “I’m not doing much.”

“He really looks forward to those stickers, and your lessons.” she says. Her eyes drift towards the fridge, where Naruto has stuck a colourful paper with his assortment of Ichiraku coupons. “I was wondering, do you mind if I join you both next time? There’s a place I’d like to show Naruto. And you, if you’re willing.”

The request leaves Kakashi taken aback. While Kushina doesn’t often leave the village, he knows she’s as busy as Minato-sensei, overseeing most of the genin and chunin missions in his stead. But Kushina’s eyes are sincere and bright, so he cannot bring himself to question the request.

“Ah, sure,” he replies. “What did you have in mind?”

What Kushina has in mind, it turns out, is a week-long trip to the coastline. It requires Kakashi to turn down a two-man mission with Tenzō, and an invitation from Asuma to join his former classmates for Yakiniku, but he is curious about what could Kushina could want to show them so much. A curiosity which only grows when he realizes that Minato-sensei will be joining them.

Kakashi leans against the doorframe, straightening up when his sensei walks in, backpack in hand. “Is it really okay for you to be leaving Konoha for a week, sensei? I mean, Yondaime-sama?” he corrects.

“I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t think so,” Minato replies firmly. “Our village is made up of more than just the Hokage, Kakashi. Shikaku-san will look after the the jōnin, and Chōza-san will see to the genin and chunin. Sandaime-sama has agreed to deal with any emergencies. Konoha will be fine without us.”

Kakashi’s brows draw together. “Whatever Kushina wants us to see must be important.”

Minato smiles. “I’ll leave it to her to tell you the rest. Let’s get going.”

—

It occurs to Kakashi, as they head east, that he has never seen Minato and Kushina on a mission together.

It is something to behold. They keep pace with each other naturally, even with Kushina carrying Naruto on her back. And though Kushina’s presence is louder and bolder than Minato’s, there is a synchronicity in their movements which makes Kakashi think of celestial bodies moving in each other’s orbit. It strikes Kakashi with the memory of being five years old himself, seeing two smiling faces looking down at him in the moonlight.

As they stop to rest for the night, Kakashi puzzles over if he’s ever taken a trip like this, just for the sake of it. If he has, it’s hard to recall. At Naruto’s age, his world had been so different.

Even his sensei has changed somehow, he decides, looking at Minato, Kushina and Naruto piled beneath one blanket. More at ease with the world, he thinks, watching as Naruto’s knee digs into his father’s chest. He hears Minato whisper something to Kushina, and watches their hands intertwine, musing on what it would be like to look so certain of his place in life.

“Don’t look so gloomy,” Kushina tells him the next morning, as they pack up. “You’re not on duty today. You can relax. Maybe even smile.”

“I relax,” Kakashi replies, crossing his arms.

Kushina laughs, reaching upward to muss up his hair. He wonders when he outgrew her. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The last half of their trip passes quickly. They stop in a seaside village long enough for lunch, but from thereon out, the rest of their trip is past far enough from the forest that the landscape remains full and vast before them.

Kakashi takes note as they pass over rolling hills filled with marigolds, adding unusual brightness to their path. Kushina’s speed finally slows down to a walking pace, and it allows Naruto to stare with open-mouthed appreciation at their view.

“Orange is my favourite colour,” Naruto announces, holding up a flower right up to Kakashi’s visible eye.

“I believe you,” says Kakashi.

Kakashi wonders if this is another trait that runs in their family, as he watches Kushina gather a bouquet of her own. Minato looks on with fondness, taking their son into his arms instead, so that his wife can move more freely.

When Kushina is nearly done, Minato approaches her and tucks a flower into her hair. His gaze is warm and soft in a way that makes Kakashi feel like he should look away. He wonders yet again why Kushina has asked him here, with their family, bright and orange and whole.

Kushina turns to Kakashi. “We’re almost there.”

Flowers clutched in hand, they walk until the flowers give way to grass, and until that grass shifts to sand. Though it’s approaching sunset, the water still shines with its warm reflection, straight through the lapping waves to let its bright golden twin rest at their feet. The salted air fills their lungs with every breath.

Wordlessly, Kushina removes her shoes, and Minato takes them into one hand and watches her walk slowly across the sand. Kushina approaches the edge of the water. Marigold petals fall into her footsteps, somehow unmoved by the changing winds.

“Mito-sama,” says Kushina, clear and certain over the breeze. “It’s good to visit you again.”

It only occurs to Kakashi then just where Kushina has taken them. Beyond the horizon line, though he’s never seen it, he’s almost certain there would’ve once been an island. The tide looks calm now, but he’s heard of the powerful current that few shinobi would be able to navigate unscathed.

Kakashi doesn’t expect Kushina’s call to be answered, if her words are for the person he suspects. To his surprise, however, he does hear something, a melodious whisper, by wind or water, that makes Kushina turn to them with the widest smile Kakashi has ever seen.

“Mito-sama,” Kushina says, with nothing pride in her eyes, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Naruto?”

Minato sets his son down on the sand, and lays an encouraging hand on top of his hair. “Go on.”

Naruto is uncharacteristically quiet as he approaches his mother, gazing up at the horizon as he might a new friend. “The name is Uzumaki Naruto!” he proclaims, to the sea.

Kushina’s arms come around Naruto, allowing him to lean his back against her legs. “You told me once that I needed to fill this vessel with love. Naruto... it’s more like he makes the vessel bottomless, because he fills it with more to love than we ever thought possible. He eats lots, and grows every day. He’s really good at making friends. He’s not in the Academy yet, but he’s always doing his best to learn. He’s probably a little too much like me, but I see Minato in him too. We’re a family now, y’know?”

With that, Minato steps forward. Kakashi’s eyes are so fixed on the scene in front of him, he doesn’t notice Minato looking at him until a hand touches his shoulder. “Kakashi,” he says gently, inclining his head towards the water.

Hesitantly, Kakashi walks in step with Minato. When the sand grows wet beneath his feet and his toes are lapped at by the tide, he feels Naruto grab for his hand. He stares at the small fingers for a moment, feeling Minato’s palm still resting on his shoulder, and strands of Kushina’s long hair brushing against all of their backs.

Kushina listens to the wind’s rhythm intently, and continues. “You know Minato. We’ve been walking side-by-side since we were kids. And now, we look over the village together. I think you would like the way it looks now.”

Kakashi feels Kushina’s eyes turn to him. “And this is Kakashi. He’s like a little brother to me. Or like... an older brother to Naruto. I think he’s still too scrawny to be someone’s uncle. He takes too many missions, and he doesn’t spend enough time being a teenager, and he’s always slouching— but he also cares about people more than almost anyone, in this land or the next. I think he likes being Naruto’s teacher, no matter what he says. He’s family too.”

Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat, Kakashi tries not to let Naruto feel his hand shake. “Nice to meet you, Mito-sama,” he says, when he can find his voice.

He cannot make out the wind’s song over the sound of his thudding heartbeat, but he does feel a light breeze against brush against his forehead, leaving the same warmth in its path as his mother and father did when they pressed a goodnight kiss to his temple. His eyes widen.

“I’m glad you could join us, Kakashi,” Minato says, squeezing Kakashi’s shoulder.

In turn, Kakashi’s grip on Naruto’s fingers becomes tighter, if still gentle. “Me too.”

[hb-writes]

Don’t You Dare Touch Me

Summary: When Sam and Dean let Nora in on a hunt, she gets more of an experience than she bargains for. She deals with it the only way she’s ever seen a hunter deal—by burying it deep down below a level of anger and alcohol.

Characters: Dean Winchester & Nora Winchester

Content Warnings: Angst, typical Winchester family business - murder/ death, emotional pain/ trauma, and alcohol consumption.

--

"I think that's enough."

Nora scoffed, her eye contact with Dean remaining steady as she pitched back the drink, feigning indifference as the whiskey seared her throat, sending a warmth through her chest that barely flickered when compared to the pain surging through her as she searched for some sort of release or whatever it was that her brothers and father and every hunter she had ever known seemed to be chasing down the bottom of a bottle.

Dean rarely had much to say about his sister having a drink these days, hadn't really since she turned eighteen. He didn't have much of a leg to stand on considering he'd started consuming much earlier than she had and it didn’t bother him much anyway. Nora was a good kid. She was usually responsible about it. 

Nora had only gotten drunk once in the time since she’d started indulging without asking permission, and she’d done it in the company of her brothers, the three of them collectively getting a little out of hand in the name of celebration, but this was something different. This wasn’t a finger of whiskey enjoyed with her bare feet up on the coffee table or Nora and Sam sampling a fancy bottle of wine. It wasn’t a beer used to wash down one of Dean’s famous burgers. 

He recognized this as something else entirely, something he’d done more than once, something he’d never wanted for his sister.

Dean wasn't sure how much Nora had had, but his sister had been alone in the library since they arrived back at the bunker, heading straight there without a word to her brothers, the music coming from Sam's laptop growing steadily louder until it finally pulled Dean from his bedroom to check on her while Sam went out to pick up dinner.

The bottle of whiskey sat beside his sister was nearly empty. Dean couldn't remember how much was left before they'd gone out for the latest hunt, but he imagined it had been more than half-way full the last time he’d had it out of the cupboard. How much she’d had didn't matter though. His concerns were more closely tied to the fact that his sister had sought this out on her own, reaching for oblivion as she pored over the book they should've read a bit closer the day before, poring over the passage he shouldn't have rushed her through.

She'd been curled up with the book in the backseat for the entire ride back to the bunker, completely silent with her headphones firmly in place, not a single request to stop for the bathroom or lunch or to stretch her legs made during the seven-hour journey, not a single interruption to Sam and Dean's conversation voiced, no complaints or sounds coming from their sister in the back seat other than the turning back and forth of pages as she memorized the words Dean hadn’t given her a chance to even skim.

She'd gone for a shower back at the motel, been in there for maybe twenty minutes and she’d come out what Dean would have called stoic, strong and stoic and in control of herself. Dean was a little impressed, proud of the way she was handling everything, especially considering what she'd been through, what she'd ended up having to do, but Dean recognized it was his father’s voice in his head. It wasn’t him. 

He and Sam should have known better than to be impressed, should have known better to be proud of Nora for something like that, something their sister wasn’t even capable of, pushing it all aside like that in the name of soldiering on. Sam and Dean knew their sister better than that, knew better than to accept her words at face value when she insisted she was fine after what she’d been through, what she’d done. And even if it hadn’t been their sister, even if it had been some random person, Sam and Dean should've known better to accept that sort of nonchalance because neither of them had been fine the first time someone else’s blood made its way onto the soft pad of their inexperienced hands. It wasn't something you could ever really wash away, not in the span of a shower, not in the span of a lifetime.

That's why Dean had always relegated his sister to the role of researcher. There were no blood splatters where the books were concerned, not direct ones anyway. It was safer, set a physical and emotional distance between Nora and what they really did, spared her aside from the occasional paper cut and whatever ideas the knowledge put into her head. But Dean understood why she was eager to experience the rest of the job. He'd been the same way once, curious and pulled to it with no real clue as to what hunting really meant.

But just like Nora’s consumption of alcohol, Dean and Sam had been able to push her introduction to it much later than their father had done for either of them. Sam and Dean had spent years instilling in her how important the research was, reminding her how necessary that component was to the success of her brothers’ business.

It had all started as a way to keep her out of the actual hunting, to keep her occupied on the long days left alone in hotel rooms or to entice her acceptance of the long stays at Bobby's, emphasizing the opportunity it gave her to learn from a seasoned hunter and his extensive library. It had been designed to keep her happy and safe, but it had become more than that at a certain point, more than a diversion and a convenient excuse because Nora was good at researching, better at it than either of her brothers, something Sam and his big shot college education were loath to admit some days. 

Nora was smart, natural with the academic stuff like Sam had always been and always with a book nearby from the time she could read, but she had a hint of rebellion in her that kept her from loving school in the same way Sam did. And whenever she hadn't done as expected in regards to the school stuff, she was always quick to point out that Dean hadn't done as expected either, something he often had a hard time arguing with.

So her diligence and skill she’d developed with the research had come as a bit of a surprise, something Dean partly attributed to Nora being so eager to prove herself to them, so eager to fit some place in her brothers’ business that her determined eyes saw things Sam and Dean’s eyes more quickly dismissed or passed over. 

Her determined eyes had still been looking, barely glancing up when they'd come back to the motel the day before, more engrossed in the words before her than her brothers’ updates, and Dean should have paid more attention to that, should have given more weight to the slew of old tomes and Sam’s laptop spread out in front of Nora on the motel bed. He should have heeded the fact that she clearly wasn’t finished with her part of the job, not ready to relinquish the work to them, but Dean hadn’t read his sister right. He’d gone ahead and announced their next course of action, decided what the kid was and that they could take care of things easily without his sister finishing her part of the job, a simple extraction and they'd have Jesse Miller back to frat parties and sleeping through the 8 am college classes his parents paid for from their retirement savings. 

Nora had fought him at first, asking after a few more hours with the books just to be sure, but Sam had already agreed and Dean had easily dismissed the need for confirmation, their collective confidence in the plan enough that a bit of doubt about her abilities, doubt about her experience and hunches, crept into Nora’s mind, and her own confidence fell away, allowing her to set her own plans aside as she agreed to the course Dean charted, moved along that road by the fact that Sam and Dean were letting her come along. 

It had been a while since Sam and Dean had let her do anything more than sit in the car, and she’d been eager, but now they all wished they'd left her behind sulking at the motel. Nora hated it and she usually railed against her brothers' protection with varying levels of intensity, but it had protected her, physically and mentally. It had kept her safe and whole and all of the things Sam and Dean hadn't been for a long time.

Nora met Dean's eye before filling the glass again, her hands shaking as the liquid sloshed over the rim.

“To saving people, hunting things, the family fucking business,” she said, lifting the glass in his direction and offering him a smile that made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach.

"Nor—" Dean stopped himself when she tipped the whiskey into her mouth, a soft hiss coming from her lips before she started filling the glass once again. "I said that's enough."

Nora stood and backed away from the table, taking the glass and the bottle with her as she stepped away. Dean took a few steps toward her, hand extended and reaching for the glass though her back was to him as she trailed away.

“Nora, give me the glass.”

Nora tilted her head back a moment before extending an arm out behind her, setting the now empty glass in his outstretched hand while retaining the bottle and the small bit of whiskey left inside. She let out a self-satisfied snort and sent a smirk over her shoulder at him.

Nora was drunk. She wasn't herself, wasn't in control. She wasn’t conscious of exactly what she was doing. Dean knew that and he knew that he had no right in being pissed off for her behaving the way she was. It wasn't on purpose, but it set something ablaze in him anyway, a flash of anger running through him at his sister's smartassed defiance.

Dean set the empty glass aside, letting it clash with too much force as he placed it on the table and he moved with a more deliberate pace to close the distance she'd put between them.

"Nora, give me the goddamn—"

Dean didn't have a word to describe the sound that ripped from his sister's throat as he pulled her back to him, one hand wrapping around her arm as the other closed over her hand in an attempt to release the bottle from her grasp. Dean understood it though and it stirred something old and nearly dead, something interred deep within him, the sound of his sister's pain resonating so strongly with the residual something that still lived within him, a pain applied and buffed into his bones and soul, so well permeated that he'd never wash it away.

"Don't you dare touch me."

Even if Nora hadn’t growled the words, her wants had been made clear enough, discernible in the way she recoiled from Dean’s touch as if his fingers burned the skin through her shirt sleeve, made obvious by the way she tried to rip herself away from him. Dean didn't allow her to break the contact though, not even when she released a scream so high pitched that Dean could still hear a ringing in his ear a few seconds later when she stopped to take a breath.

The bulk of the remaining whiskey had spilled out in the struggle, drops of it covering them both, but Nora still gripped the neck, her effort to keep hold of the empty bottle renewed as Dean attempted to rid her of it, to get it out from the small space that existed between them, to save them from an even bigger mess, a different kind of pain. Dean couldn't imagine having to physically hold her down to bandage the cut that would inevitably come from allowing her to continue having the thing in her grasp.

Dean made a decision then and almost mechanically took hold of the bottle, twisting Nora's wrist as she cried out in pain, her whole body turning as he did it, her fingers involuntarily releasing the bottle which Dean quickly set aside, freeing her wrist, almost certain she'd use the opportunity to put some distance between them, use it as justified ammunition to keep him away. 

Nora put her hands up and shoved at Dean’s chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, dazed for a second as she rushed forward, whatever energy she’d been using in retaining the bottle, all of the focus and determination she’d held, now directed at her brother instead, and Dean simply took it, took the fists pounding against his chest, standing firm as Nora pushed against him, trying to move him back, trying to push him away as she sought a bit of the satisfaction she’d gained when he’d first stumbled, her words starting to come as the adrenaline subsided, a string of pained demands taking the place of the pounding fists, a continuous stream of cruel words wielding more power than any of her punches could have, most of them heavy enough and true enough that Dean tried to ignore a good bulk of it, tried to remember that Nora was working at creating a distance between them, both physical and emotional.

Her arms grew slack and Dean finally got a grip on her wrists, her fight renewed as he gained control.

"You can't push me away, kid."

She stopped fighting against his hold then and Dean sighed, relief just beginning to flow into him as he shifted his grip, preparing pull Nora against his chest, to work on getting her through the worst of it, to help her to shift from the anger to the tears, hoping he’d get her to sleep after that.

"You're murderers,” she said, her words barely above a whisper though they held a certain conviction. “You and Sam. Killing innocent people. Innocent fucking people. Ruined. Broken."

Dean swallowed as Nora stepped back, using his second of shock to put some distance between them, both of them working through her words and pulling out what they'd really meant, so much more than Nora labelling her brothers as exactly what they were.

Sam and Dean were hunters. And they had killed innocent people, hurt innocent people, ruined innocent people, broken them.

And Nora had now done the same. She'd summed it all up in words that took her only seconds to get out, expressed that she'd been ruined and had done the ruining, some precious part of her, the person she would never be again, killed in the three seconds it took for the knife in her hands to plunge into Jesse Miller's side, that part of her dead before the kid was, taking its last breath before the first bit of Jesse’s blood came to the surface of the wound she'd inflicted in the name of self-defense, the wound she'd inflicted because her brother had been wrong, wrong in not letting her finish the research, wrong in allowing her to come along, wrong in not watching over her more closely once they were in the middle of it, for putting her in that position.

Dean looked away from Nora for just a moment, to gather himself and avoid having to look at her as she came down from the anger, the hurt taking over as the venomous rage subsided, the tears coming from her heavy eyes somehow different than those that had been there just a moment before, the choked sobs somehow screaming at him though no sound came from her mouth.

"I—"

Dean rubbed a hand down his face, pulling his eyes back to Nora as she tried to speak, her feet moving just a step or so forward as she tried to fill the gaps, tried to fill the space between her and Dean and the space between what she'd said and what she'd meant, but Dean didn't need her to say any of it. Although she hadn't been able to get past that first syllable, Dean knew his sister had opened her mouth intent on labelling herself in the same ways she'd labelled her brothers.

Murderer. 

Killer. 

Ruined. 

Broken.

Dean took a single step, the distance between them already small enough that he could easily reach out and pull Nora against his chest. Any composure she’d had left her shattered as he did it, her whole body shaking with the sobs that were no longer silent, her pain no longer buried under a layer of anger and stoicism as she clung to her brother, barely aware of his attempts to soothe them both.

"It's alright, kiddo. I know."

--

Bye, Bye Apple Pie (Supernatural) Masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

[olivieblake]

Oh my Olivie it has been ages and ages. For some reason, I felt compelled to re-read Clean again after what, 6 years? It was like catching up with an old friend whom you still cherish, but having gone completely different ways in life, if that makes sense? Then I came here to post something light and saw you decided to stop HP fanfiction altogether. It’s funny, how something I took so much pride in now feels icky. “Potterhead” just doesn’t ring the same with the layers of transphobia. /1

Or even the political stuff, JKR is just the personification of yikes. I was wondering though, feel free to not answer if you don’t want, how you feel about HP in general now, not just the writing fics part. For me, despite JKR, it’s still something I grew up with. It instilled certain morals and values in me, and growing up and reading it more critically I found it hugely flawed yet this is also a direct consequence of the critical spirit it inspired me to have (oh hello definition of irony) and so HP will ultimately always be a part of me. Do you think you can feel the same way? I’m rambling. I just wanted to take this moment really to say that it was such to evolve with your fanfics. I remember when and where I started reading Clean, and when and where I finished TCG II. You have been such a big part of my life at a turning point between finishing Uni and my first job, and I just wanted to thank you. For phenomenal writing, for giving more depth to the books that truly made me. For unwavering discipline in providing us with *free* *genius* *art*. It’s not goodbye obvi, impatiently waiting for my copy of the Atlas Six to arrive, but still. It’s a moment. Thank you so much. And congratulations for all the good that has come your way since 2016. You deserve every piece of it. Love you and indebted to you forever.

oh wow, it really has been ages, hello!! I hope you've been well! I definitely agree that it feels icky (like specifically the word icky is what comes to mind) and that sense of ick is what keeps me away. I think that you and I have slightly different views on how the series affected us; I was perhaps older when I read them (the books were still being written, so I pretty much read each book while being the same age harry was) and so I don't credit the series with as much of my development so much as my sense of youth and nostalgia. a lot of my joy has come from these books, and that has been painful to lose—or if not to lose, then to feel as if it has been cheapened. I will always think fondly of the midnight premieres and the speculation about what would come next and the sense of wanting to belong to that world, to be magic myself. buuuuut I have always been much more anti-authoritarian than harry (I never understood why he trusted dumbledore so much) and I always felt there were some problems (with snape, with the role women play in the books) so I think for me it's acceptable to move on. there are a lot of books that "made" me, so to speak, so this may be one series that will always be meaningful to my adolescence, but at the same time I know that I also have tamora pierce, patricia c. wrede, diana wynne jones... the list goes on. I am a lucky person to have grown up in such a wonderful time of children's/young adult literature, and I credit all of those books with the person (and author) I became

but I love that you still see the place I've taken in your life as meaningful, and I'm so grateful to you for taking the time to send this. thank you so, so very much, and know I am sending lots of joy your way!