#it’s been like two years since I’ve posted cut me some slack

[icedthoma]

the presence of shadows

pairing: thoma x shuumatsuban!reader

summary: this was just supposed to be a simple, one time food delivery mission. alternatively, in which you catch feelings for the kamisato clan's chief retainer (and hope he at least gets a raise, after all ayato puts him through).

notes: LMAO IM BACK did anyone miss me /hj this was literally supposed to be an ayato fic whups. i wish we got more shuumatsuban lore :(

anyways like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed ^^

"i have a very important mission for you, y/n."

"yes, my lord." you appear on one knee in front of ayato seemingly out of nowhere. "fatui? vagrants? treasure hoarders? say the word, my lord, and i'll eliminate the threat in an instant."

he chuckles quietly. "i admire your enthusiasm. perhaps this is why you are one of my most capable members of the shuumatsuban, and why i am entrusting you with this operation." your gaze is glued to the floor, but you hear a slight rustling of what seems to be some kind of cloth as ayato's well polished shoes turn to face your direction.

chancing a glance up, you're met with that trademark grin that means whatever your boss is planning, it can't be good. beckoning for you to stand, ayato holds out a bag in front of you. "deliver this to thoma, please," he says, the smile never leaving his face. "he should be at the komore teahouse around now. that is all."

you blink rapidly for several seconds, automatically taking the bag into your arms. it's warm. swallowing any questions you have, you bow slightly in acknowledgement. "yes, sir."

you're gone before ayato could say anything more, exiting his office as silently as you had entered.

domestic missions are your least favorite, and this was the first one you’ve had in a while. you love a good challenge, experiencing the thrill of a fight against those that would threaten inazuma's safety being one of the best parts of your job. a task as monotonous as delivering food...definitely couldn't compare.

you huff a sigh as you walk past the large tree in the forefront of the city where many street animals often gather, clutching the bag of food tighter in your hand while you prepare to climb the final obstacle of the many stairs leading to the teahouse. it always feels odd, strolling around in normal clothes instead of your uniform in broad daylight. your discomfort is a constant reminder that your life never was and never would be "normal" ever since the previous kamisato clan head took you in.

children are gathered around the many buildings clustered around the city's rural area, laughing and falling over themselves while they play card games and chase each other around. you can't resist the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth at the sight of them.

the work you and your comrades do is forever shadowed in darkness, your identities and history confidential even in death. none of these people relaxing in ignorant bliss will ever know of the work you do, and perhaps that's a good thing.

you finally arrive at the teahouse and greet taroumaru with a respectful nod as you make your way in. despite you being in civilian clothes, he recognizes you as one of the shuumatsuban immediately. maybe it's the kunai knife hidden in your sleeve.

none of the rooms have the blond haired retainer who's practically famous throughout the yashiro commission. you've never had the chance (or need) to meet him personally, but from what you've heard, he seems to be quite the character. all you know is his rocky history as an outlander getting settled in inazuma as well as him being allowed some level of authority over the shuumatsuban. that was certainly a surprise to you. anyone who earned the trust of ayato to that extent must be truly special.

you enter the only room that appears to have been recently in use, electing to leave the food on the table before using ninjutsu techniques to conceal yourself in a dark corner and make sure the mission is carried out to completion. a few seconds later, the door slides open and thoma walks in with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head as he sits in front of the table. 

“ooh, finally, some food! i’m starving,” he says, cheerfully making to untie the bag. “how did this get in here, anyway?”

from your position blending with the shadows against the wall, your brow furrows in scrutiny as you watch thoma hum to himself about how much he looked forward to lunch today, green eyes sparkling despite the dim ambience of the room.

how come none of the accounts you’d heard mentioned him being such an absolute ray of sunshine? unacceptable. 

the humming abruptly stops, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts as thoma stares down at the food you’d brought him, his mouth hanging slightly open in...disbelief? horror? he looks like he’s going through the five stages of grief all at once. 

stretching up to get a closer look at the table, your eyes widen and you’re barely able to suppress a gag at what you just had the misfortune of seeing. the bag had apparently contained some kind of rice cake soup, but whatever that suspicious dish sitting in front of thoma was definitely did not deserve the title of being associated with rice cake soup. 

thoma finally picks up his chopsticks and pokes at the bowl, coming up with what looks like chunks of sea ganoderma mixed with the fish that’s definitely been overcooked to a crisp. 

ayato may be your boss, but you can’t defend him where his cooking skills are concerned. the scent from the open bowl wafts over to your corner, and there’s no stopping the choking cough that escapes you at the suffocating aroma. you don’t even think you can call this food. 

thoma’s gaze whips over to where you’re hidden, and he blinks in surprise. “...hello?’ he calls. “anyone there?” his eyes glance over what appears to be a bare wall of the teahouse. after a moment, he shrugs and his attention returns to whatever poison you’d just delivered to him. then, for reasons beyond your comprehension, he scoops up a spoonful and brings it up to his mouth.

you may have only just met the man, but you’re pretty sure having “kamisato ayato’s cooking” written on his gravestone as cause of death is a fate too cruel for anyone. “wait--” you cry out, disguise dissipating as you seemingly spring up out of thin air. halfway through lunging towards the table you realize what exactly you’ve just done, but it’s too late now. 

upon your sudden appearance, thoma jerks backward in surprise, the soup in his spoon splashing onto his lap. the two of you lock gazes, eyes wide in shock (thoma) and horror (you). 

great. years of training under the shuumatsuban, and you’re rendered helpless by an awkward situation with the yashiro commission’s best housekeeper.

“i--who--” thoma starts, snapping you out of your stupor. you sprint out of the room before he can get another word out. 

"napkins!” you yell, launching yourself over the counter on your way to the supply room. taroumaru lets out several amused barks at your predicament, much to your annoyance. so much for professionalism...

upon your return, thoma has already taken off the red cloth around his waist that had received the brunt of the soup’s impact. you hand him the napkins silently, face burning. 

there’s no malice in his expression as he takes them from you and wipes down his clothes. “you’re one of the shuumatsuban, aren’t you?”

well, there’s no point hiding it now. “how could you tell?”

“not many people can appear like that out of thin air,” thoma points out matter-of-factly. “i’m somewhat familiar with their ninjutsu techniques myself--or at least, as much as sayu lets slip to me.” he laughs, shaking his head as he gives up on the pungent stain on his garment and setting it to the side. “either way, it’s nice to meet another one of you. i’m thoma, by the way. i’m assuming lord kamisato sent...”

“yeah. he sent the soup, and by extension myself, i guess.” you shoot a narrowed glance at where that gross dish was still sitting on the table, blissfully undisturbed this entire time. “listen, i’m sorry about your clothes. i didn’t mean to reveal myself like that without a warning. i just--uh--didn’t want you to die of food poisoning. or something.”

“oh, don’t worry. this is a...regular occurence. i’m used to it.” with that, he sits back down and goes for another spoonful.

“hold on, didn’t I just say—”

thoma swallows hard, setting the spoon to the side and looking like he’s about to throw up any second. “oh wow. this is. delicious.”

you stare dumbfounded at him. “are you insane?”

“it’s my job,” he says with a pained smile.

throwing your hands up in the air, you storm out of the teahouse is frustration. “I cant watch this anymore.”

unfortunately, luck is not on your side as ayato somehow manages to catch you despite your desperate attempts to evade him, throwing a new bag of poison in your arms and sending you off to deliver it to wherever thoma is at the moment. 

today, you catch him on the outskirts of the city surrounded by what seems to be half the stray dog and cat population in inazuma. humming cheerfully, thoma distributes food among the animals, bending down to rub their soft fur as they feast. 

“hello again!” he says as you approach from behind, purposefully letting your footsteps be heard. “nice day today, isn’t it?” 

you sigh and hand him ayato’s latest concoction. “sorry. it’s about to get worse for the both of us.” it’s admirable how his upbeat expression doesn’t falter in the slightest as he readily takes the bag of food from you and ushers you to a spot of grass that’s not filled by any dogs or cats. 

“i love coming here, you know. isn’t it nice looking at all the animals’ happy faces when i bring them some treats? ahh, i wish i could just take them all home. but i know lord kamisato would never allow it.” thoma sits down cross-legged and takes out a pair of chopsticks from the bag. “thank you for the meal!” 

you watch curiously as he opens up the box inside to reveal the driest looking crystal shrimp you’ve ever seen arranged in a bed of lettuce. you’re no food connoisseur by any means, but just imagining yourself taking a bite out of one already has your mouth parched. 

“lord kamisato’s cooking really sucks...” you mutter under your breath, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by the man at your side. 

one cursed shrimp is already caught between his chopsticks. “i never thought i’d hear one of the shuumatsuban criticizing lord kamisato so openly!” 

“i’ll only be in trouble if you snitch,” you shoot back lightheartedly, resting your chin in your hand. “you know, he didn’t order me to make sure you eat it, just to deliver it to you. why do you insist on subjecting yourself to this...this...”

“this...?” 

“this absolute insult to liyue cuisine!” 

thoma’s laughter is contagious, and despite your attempts to resist you find yourself laughing along at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “oh man,” thoma says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “i am so glad you’re the one bringing me all these.” 

you choose to ignore how your heart skipped a beat at his last sentence. “i’m surprised you can still tolerate me after the stunt i pulled when we first met, not to mention how every time we’ve crossed paths has always been accompanied by ayato’s suspicious dishes,” you say instead, fishing out a second pair of chopsticks from the bag. “tell you what. if you’re so dead set on eating this stuff, i’ll eat one too. it’s only fair.”

thoma’s eyes widen as he quickly pulls the box towards him. “h-hold on,” he chuckles, “that’s not necessary—”

“too late,” you say with a grin, leaning back with one piece already between your chopsticks he hadn’t seen you steal. at his surprised expression, your growing smile becomes harder to suppress. “come on. you can’t beat a member of the shuumatsuban when it comes to theft.”

thoma leans forward to rest his chin on his palm. “…okay, you win. you shuumatsuban are really impressive, huh!”

it wasn’t often you got to hear someone other than your coworkers or ayato compliment your skills. after all, the whole point of the shuumatsuban was to remain hidden in the shadows, out of sight for the greater protection of inazuma’s citizens. whenever you completed a job, you were usually out of the scene before anyone could realize what had happened.

but as thoma stares at you with a look that could only be described as awe, you think that being acknowledged every so often maybe isn’t so bad after all.

clearing your throat, you tear your gaze away from his blinding smile and take a bite of the shrimp. “well. bottoms up!” across from you, thoma does the same.

after a solid minute of fighting for your life just to swallow one mouthful, you turn to thoma who’s face looks rather green.

“water—” you cough, rummaging around in the bag, but unfortunately it was devoid of any drinks.

thoma clears his throat several times and the color begins to return to his face. he stands up and offers a hand to you, which you gladly take as you shakily get to your feet.

“that was…”

“interesting,” you finish, attempting to subtly muffle your coughs with your fist. “archons…I think we need to unionize into a Victims of Kamisato Ayato’s Cooking organization or something.”

the two of you head to the komore teahouse, and taroumaru eyes the two of you knowingly upon your entry as he greets you with a teasing bark. “oh, be quiet,” you manage to whisper, before downing several glasses of water like you’ve been stranded in the sumeru desert.

“shall i order us some food?” thoma asks, reaching one hand over to pat taroumaru’s head affectionately. “you certainly deserve to eat a proper meal.”

ignoring how your stomach growls, it takes all your willpower to deny his offer. “thanks, thoma. but i still have a lot of work to do today that i better finish or else lord kamisato will have my head.”

“ah…” he says, the disappointment showing on his face for only a second before his signature smile is back. “i understand. would you be willing to grab dinner with me some other time? it doesn’t have to be today.”

“with you? i mean, of course i wouldn’t mind, if we both aren’t too busy…”

“then it’s a date,” thoma says it so matter of factly you found yourself nodding along before you realize what he just said.

hoping to celestia the heat in your cheeks isn’t visible, you pause on your way out the door and slowly turn back. “what did you say?”

“i, uh. said it’s a date,” he repeats with a nervous laugh. “should i not have said that? i’m sorry—”

“no! no, you’re fine,” you hurriedly interrupt, glaring daggers at where taroumaru has somehow acquired a box of popcorn and is watching this scene play out with glee. “it’s fine. i’d love that, actually..”

“then i look forward to seeing you then,” thoma calls as you exit the teahouse.

for someone who practically lived and worked in the shadows their entire life, perhaps “normalcy” wasn’t so unattainable after all.

you can almost forgive ayato for his terrible cooking. almost.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure Arc: A Song on a Silent Night

Before we begin I’d like to get personal for a moment. About a year ago I decided I was going to step away from this blog as a daily format and only post when I was really inspired to. It was a drastic step, but one I had to make because I was so burnt out and so deep in seasonal depression that I was on the edge of having a breakdown. Ironically, it was this specific adventure arc that did it for me, as I felt pressured to make something for the holiday season but literally couldn't get words on the page. Taking a break turned out to be the best thing for me. This past year has been great and I’ve actually had enough energy to not only do the projects that are important to me, but to also improve my writing.   My partner and I have written a narrative podcast and we’re shopping it around to producers at the moment, I couldn’t be more excited. (BTW if you happen to be in the business, give me a shout) In many ways it’s very cathartic to come back and finish this adventure. I’d even say it was easy, since I didn’t have the pressure I self imposed because I thought I needed it to write. I just wanted to say: Take care of yourselves friends. Nurture yourself and good art will follow. I am so thankful to have you all as my audience and I hope you know that no matter how bleak the season gets it’s an absolute joy to write for you.

It’s the coldest night of the year, and despite all the lights on in town no one is home. They have been snatched from their beds and their hearthsides by a sinister song that carries on the wind and has spirited them off to another world. Our heroes must follow, and in order to get their friends and family back they must lay siege to the sorrowful heart of winter itself.

Find out what led to these events, and their outcome, below the cut.

Into:   Some weeks before the disappearances begin, the party are sent into the cold to check on a missing mail shipment, only to end up clashing against a group of hobgoblins intent on ruining the holiday season. From there, acts that might be construed as harmless planks escalate into outright malice as it becomes clear the hobs are disappearing townsfolk, working off some sort of list given to them by an unknown villain. 

Adventure Hooks:

If you’re running this adventure arc as part of a longer campaign, consider previewing the hob’s lair long before the villains every arrive, an old ruin where fey and witches are said to revel during the new moon. Having a low level party venture out to the ruins for a test of bravery only to return months later as veteran heroes will show them just how far they’ve grown.

From deadly pranks to highway robbery, each act of malicious mischief committed by the goblins is accompanied by a list of names and seemingly innocuous offenses, evidently ripped off a far larger list in possession of their leader. The party are likely to collect more than a few scraps of these over the course of their journeys, and will be surprised when they begin to form together, laying out a series of disappearances that stretches back some years. 

The goblins’ leader Klatterbell was having such a nice time in the mortal realm before the party got involved. As a hob-knight in service to an archfey of sorrow and frost, the material plane was practically a balmy vacation destination compared to his patron’s foreboding frozen realm. This led to Klatterbell slacking off on his task of collecting mortals and develop aspirations of becoming a sort of yuletide bandit lord.  Aspirations the party can’t help but thwart when they riad Klatterbell’s fortress and set the captives free.  The fight can end either two ways, either the party is defeated, captured, and banished through the portal to the frozen realm of the bleakfather,  or the party is victorious, and as his last act Klatterbell rips a horn from his belt and plays a haunting and mounrful note that will be picked up by the wind and transformed into a haunting tune. 

Returning home from defeating the goblins and rescuing the captives, the party find the town deserted, the strange music unleashed by Klatterbell’s horn echoing in the roar of an approaching winter storm. With their rescued townsfolk in toe, the party will begin to explore the eerily empty town, discovering that the inhabitants seemingly got up from what they were doing and walked into the cold, proceeding enmass to the edge of the settlement where the snow erases their footprints.   It’s at that point that the frost giants attack, walking out of the enroaching storm like it was a curtain between worlds. They’re here to mop up any townsfolk where were not swept up by the enchanting song and whisked away to the feywild, and maybe do some looting while they’re at it. 

Regardless of how it shakes out, the party will have to assail the realm of the Bleakfather, battling their way through a boreal wind that will seek to rip all warmth and joy from their bodies. The only way of getting through this storm is to think back on the moments of joy and light they’ve experienced through their adventures: the festivals, the little kindnesses, the gifts, the pranks, the games, the songs, their friends: These things will lend them strength when the cold and the dark creep in to swallow them… battling their way up the mountain, to rescue the townsfolk and perhaps defeat the archefey himself. 

Future Adventures: 

It wasn’t only the party’s neighbors that were taken captive by the bleakfather, scores of innocents from across the realms were taken by the frostgiants as thralls, all living out their indenture over the feywild’s timeless years. Hospitality will hold for the winter, but come spring the heroes will need to set off to find these people a place to live. 

With their slaves stolen and their fortress breached, the ice giants will scatter, some returning in months or years later at the head of raiding parties as they too seek a new home.  While some may be hesitant to give up their supremacy and seek to subdue the locals wherever they go, others may wish to live only in peace. 

[fatexbound]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

✿ NAME: Lea (previously called Athena. No nicknames yet)

✿ PRONOUNS: she/her

✿ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Discord, mainly if we’re mutuals. Tumblr is shit with IMs, but I use that too.

✿ NAME OF MUSE(S): From here: Makoto Yuki, Hamuko Arisato, Junpei Iori, Yu Narukami, Yosuke Hanamura, Ai Ebihara, Rise Kujikawa, Naoto Shirogane, Ann Takamaki, Ryuji Sakamoto, Makoto Niijima. Single blog: Akira Kurusu. Finally, a BUNCH more on my other multi.

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): It’s definitely been ten years. Since 2013 or so. Times flies and I’m old.

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: Facebook at the start as a joke and that’s how I got into RP. Then after a while, I moved to Tumblr, although I used Skype too at some point. Of course, I use Discord as well.

✿ BEST EXPERIENCE: I’ve had plenty, and I gotta say they were from my earlier days as an RPer. They left the biggest impact on me because it’s how I met my German and Singaporean BFFs. It was all so new and exciting that we hit it off and had plenty of good laughs as young teens.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: I can’t stress this enough. Please read my rules and others’. It’s extremely disrespectful if you don’t, and it only serves to annoy us and block you if you’re a personal blog. Seriously, it’s not funny whether it’s an OOC post or not. It messes up my notifications and I’ve also had two or more instances where they liked 7+ posts at once. Why? No clue. Don’t do it, hoe.

✿ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: Fluff all the way. I need it in my life and I live off of it. Hurt/comfort is okay too and angst? Only when I’m the mood for it. Not that I take things personally, of course, lmao. It just requires a lot of concentration and I’d rather not ruin it or something? 

As for smut, same as with angst. Although, I am very picky and rusty with it, so cut me some slack. Especially since I write some M/M action. I am not a man. Go easy on me and be patient.

✿ PLOTS OR MEMES: Both! I’m more into memes for some quick or long asks depending on how much I put into it! I love getting asks. However, I am more than happy to plot with you as well when it comes to more important events (marriage, pregnancy, etc.) or just to get things started. I’d really appreciate it if it’s discussed with me first to give you the OK or not. <3

✿ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Both, again. I tend to practice longer replies as they look more... fluent in a way, and I like seeing it. It might take me a while or seconds, depending on how I feel. Short replies are also gucci, of course.

✿ BEST TIME TO WRITE: Late in the evening or late at night since I am a night owl and hate waking up. I also hate my brain for getting motivation out of nowhere.

✿ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): I am an introvert through and through! Meaning that I can relate to Makoto (P3), Yu and Naoto more than anyone else. I’ve also been “adopted” by some extroverts, so I’m stuck with them now. Yay.

Tagged by: @tres-fidelis​ (stole it~)​

Tagging: YOU!

[addij69]

My Horribly Written Essay On Figment and Disney

(this is my first post so please cut me some slack, I am also not a writer :P )

I remember Fifth Grade for a plethora of reasons. My Grandpa’s passing, the year I watched one of my classmates descend into becoming the weird fetish kid, and the year my favorite Pokemon card was stolen and returned, but to me, the most impacting part of who I am now was my trip to Disney World. Now for all my life, I was a Disney kid, I had all the movies, all the toys, and even the Barbie Disney Rapunzel Castle that you could put water on the walls to make her paintings appear. And now looking back at my life as an 18-year-old college student, I think Disney did the one thing I couldn’t do for myself as a kid, create a focus. Since childhood, I’ve always wanted to be a princess, live in a castle, and meet my prince but I never could due to the housing market and Democracy of course. Now I’ve had ADHD forever, and to anyone who knows me, this isn’t a surprise. I’ve always been the kid in the class who can’t stop talking or moving or drawing pictures in the margins of my work and all over my work and generally not doing my work. And when I was home; I was the same. Never had a clean room, constantly playing and making stories with my Barbies and Monster High Dolls. And it was an escape, I didn’t have a solid group of friends in Fifth Grade, It was a time when who liked me and could tolerate me would jump around from kid to kid till I had no true idea who was really a friend. I still don’t know how to separate a friend from an acquaintance. But one day it changed.

I had gotten home from school like usual, and there was a white box on the counter. I didn’t notice the excited looks peaking from my parents most likely exhausted faces(they had two kids who wouldn’t be tired) as my mother alerted us that they had a surprise. I will attempt to describe the following as dramatically and flourished as I can, she lifted the sagging white box off the counter carefully holding the bottom. As she lifted the flap, words started to appear seemingly alerting we were going somewhere. Disney World. How I couldn’t contain my excitement I remember crying in joy, though my memory of back then is mostly a blur due to getting older and just general brain fogginess. During April break, peak tourism time which proved to be a good idea at the time later proved to be a not-so-great time, we were off. Now we stayed in a rental home about 30 to 40 minutes away from the park, I had a tv in my room and would only watch Disney Channel cause why wouldn’t I, it was Disney Radio season. I remember a few details of the home, a pool, a little lizard that seemed to follow me from window to window from outside the home, and a nearby Walmart with so much Disney stuff I as an adult would have wept from how empty my wallets would have been upon leaving. On the second day, my life would change.

Epcot, which is home to attractions like Drinking Around the World and Test Track is by far my favorite Disney park to this day. In one whole day, I got to travel around the world, go to space, and see him. Now looking at the large sort of wacky-shaped building from the outside you wouldn’t expect to find such a large assortment of wonders inside. Journey into the Imagination is possibly the one thing I’d want to relive other than seeing Phantom of the Opera a year prior(which I wore the same shirt to by the way), the ride takes you on a tour of the senses before Figment interrupts. At the time I didn’t think anything of Figment, he was some old dragon that had a funny voice and at the time that's all he was. But looking back at my young self I see a lot of me in Figment. I was a creative outcast who wanted to find my way in life and help but usually was yelled at or ignored. And Figment goes through a similar journey on his attraction. And I think that's what's drawn me to him all these years, once I hit Highschool I had a hard time finding myself and fitting in. Luckily I had good friends at that point but I didn’t feel complete. I remember the day, it was early December of my freshman year. I was watching Disney Ride POV’s to pass the time when I stumbled onto the recording of Figment, and I was obsessed. I spent hours of time over the next year coming back to the videos, even during the height of Covid I was still finding comfort in a memory. I received my first stuffed Figment from my friend on my 17th Birthday, at the time it was the only merchandise of him they sold out of parks and I cried upon receiving him. Then for my 18th Birthday, I spoiled myself with custom horns to match him, a huge 2ft stuffed Figment and custom earrings. And the same dear friend had gone to Disney that year and came over while I was bleaching my hair and delivered such a special gift. A Figment that magnetically could sit on your shoulder from the parks. I almost lost my mind but kept composed to not seem like a psychopath. 

I might be crazy, but I know I sure sound it. But I hold this little Purple Dragon so close in my heart. Disney in particular has always been my comfort anything, and I don’t think it ever won’t be. As time goes on more and more stuff is thrown at me like how a toddler throws a birthday cake and I am so happy. I am so emotionally invested in the company I get excited for the panels at D23, and when news is dropped about company workings. It's special for me, and so is Figment.

[mitchipedia]

This is your brain on social media 

Social media has been a big part of my life for half my life. It doesn’t seem to be working as well for me as it once did. Now what?

I took a month break from social media in June. I’ve been using social media in various forms for more than thirty years, beginning with Usenet and online services in 1989, and then moving on to Twitter and Facebook in the late 2000s.

There has been positive value to all of this. I’ve made a couple of real-life friends. It provides social connectivity, which is important because I’ve been working from a home office since 1992, and I’m an introvert by nature, so it’s easy for me to fall into isolation.

So I took June off.

Or, to me more precise, I drastically cut back, with strict limitations about how and why I used social media.

I was inspired by reading the book “Digital Minimalism,” by Cal Newport, where he talks about the value of unplugging from social media for a month to do a brain reset, and using the time to fill your life with activities that are more important to you. I started reading the book on a whim, found I enjoyed it, and decided to take the digital reset on a whim as well. That’s odd for me—usually that’s the kind of decision I would take a while to think over.

If you’re someone who thinks you spend too much time on social media, or playing games, or otherwise staring at screens for non-work purposes, I recommend Newport’s book to you.

Setting boundaries

I immediately found it impractical to cut myself off from Facebook, Twitter, and Reddit. It’s like going without electricity. Within hours of my social media fast, I found I wanted to look up some pieces of information on one of those sites.

Also, I manage the social media presence for the La Mesa-Foothills Democratic Club—we’re not very active on social media, but I couldn’t just walk away from that for a month.

And I use LinkedIn for work.

So I quickly evolved a rule for myself, without giving it much thought. I followed that rule throughout the month, even though I was only able to articulate the rule in words at the end of the month.

This was the rule

I would only use Facebook, Twitter, and Reddit for specific purpose—to look something up, or post a tweet for the Democratic club. I’d get on, do the thing that I set out to do, and then get off.

When I was on Facebook, Twitter, or Reddit, I would not be there to check replies or scroll the feeds. That leads to hours spent all day doing that. That’s precisely what I was trying to get away from.

Normally, I also participate in one or two online forums and several Discord and Slack servers. I cut those out entirely, except for one online forum run by a real life personal friend.

Looking at the preceding paragraphs underscores to me how much social media I do. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Reddit, three or four Discord and Slack servers and a couple of online forums. No wonder I feel like social media has colonized my brain.

My June social media detox overlapped with a trip out of town that Julie took alone, to take care of family business in Ohio. She was out of town mid-May to mid-June, and I had the house to myself. Just me and the dog and cats for a month.

So what was the outcome?

I missed social media. My social media detox felt like quitting smoking. I missed those little jolts of pleasure when I posted something, or when I read something interesting or funny, or when I got a like or reply.

Like smoking, I found that I enjoyed social media some of the time—that first cigarette with coffee in the morning, or after I’d gone a long time without being able to smoke. But like smoking, I found I was often doing it out of habit, and felt bad while I was doing it. And the times I was doing it out of habit, and not actually enjoying it, may have been more frequent than the times I actually enjoy social media.

Smoking often felt shameful to me, and unpleasant, but I did it because I craved it. Social media activity has never been that bad for me, but it can be somewhat similar, particularly when it’s late at night and I should be getting up to go to bed but instead I’m just staring at the goddamn screen, dragging down with my finger to refresh.

During my break, I wrote a few blog posts, which was nice. The were inconsequential—reactions to TV shows and books I’ve been reading. But creative writing is something I’ve done less and less of over the years. It used to be important to me. And I feel like getting started doing that again is a positive feedback loop. An inconsequential blog post about a TV show today might become something more consequential tomorrow.

During my break, my brain did feel calmer.

I was more productive. Not by orders of magnitude, but a few percentage points. That’s something.

And then, in the final week of the month, I found I really missed one part of my social media activity, the part where I read articles and share links to them, often accompanied by excerpts and summaries. A big value I get from that is the additional thinking about what I’ve read. I also do it it with videos and podcast episodes. But mainly I do it with articles.

I started doing those brief write-ups again in my final week of my social media detox. But I did not post them. I just queued them up as drafts, and posted them the first week in July, when my social media detox was over.

And then July 1 hit and I spent a big part of the day catching up on my old social channels. And that was nice.

Taking a Sabbath

Years ago, I read an article by an Orthodox Jewish man who works in the tech industry, and he talked about the value of the Sabbath. He and his family are completely modern; they have phones and iPads and the kids play games and they subscribe to streaming video services. But they switch all that off, Friday evening to Saturday evening, sunset to sunset. He said they find that during a hectic week, sometimes they yearn for the break of Sabbath, and that’s part of the whole reason they observe Sabbath.

But sometimes (he said) during Sabbath, they get fidgety and yearn for it all to be over and return to their phones and other screens—and that (he said) was part of the value of Sabbath too. To make you pause and appreciate the benefits of modern life.

Another reset

And now here we are at the end of July, and I have resumed all my old social media habits—good and bad.

Another thing that’s resumed for me: Insomnia. I slept pretty well in June, and into the first week of July, but over the past couple of weeks I’ve been waking up in the very early morning—3 or 4 am, and one time 1 am—which has been a problem for me in the past couple of years. I suspect the culprit here is screen time—when I’m in bed getting ready to sleep, I scroll through Reddit and Tumblr, looking at memes and TikTok videos and midcentury ads and catalog photos and other found media.

So I think I need to pull back from social media again. Not cut it off entirely as I did in June, but put fences around my use.

Many years ago, I put fences around TV, and the habit has stuck with me. In the evening, we watch the news over dinner, and then around 8:30-9:30 pm we watch one show, usually 45 minutes to an hour, and then that’s it for TV for me most days. Every month or two, we’ll do a movie or a few episodes back-to-back on a weekend night.

I think I need to do something similar with social media. I scroll the feeds and check replies at fixed times, and then I’m not doing that anymore.

Also, no more bedtime screen time, which will drastically reduce my meme and found-media sharing. The world will just have to live with that loss.

I’m also finding less satisfaction in the link-sharing that I used to do multiple times a day—finding an article, summarizing it, posting the link to social. A lot of that seems pointless to me now. I’m doing less of it, unless there’s something I really want to think through, express, or fix in my mind by writing it out.

I do not expect the result of my change will be dramatically life-changing, but I think I’ll feel better and get a little more done. Maybe even get out more and socialize in person, which is something I need to do more of. It will be an incremental change. And incremental change can be a big deal—we, as a society, undervalue incremental change.

For much of my life I defined myself as a writer and a journalist. When that stopped working for me, I poured a lot of energy into social media. I defined myself by my social media presence to an extent that, taking a step back, seems ridiculous.

Social media doesn’t seem to be working for me anymore. So now what? Writing will always be a big part of my life; it is how I communicate best. (Look! I’m doing it right now!) But beyond that I don’t know.

[kithtaehyung]

hi, ryen! i just saw it was 3tan anniversary and tho i’m late i wanted to leave a little message too!

i’ve said it about a hundred times already, but three tangerines is so special to me. this world you’ve created and to which you dedicate so much of your time and heart has become nothing short of comfort to me. reading your words, regardless of how angsty they often can be, feels like a hug. from yoongi slowly coming down to vulnerability, to reader slowly opening up to change and affection – these are the characters whose struggles i’ve followed hand in hand, by your side!

i know i’ve been absent and i’ve missed this community a lot (saw there’s a discord happening too, and imma apply to it asap!!), but i’ve never left, cus three tan is always with me. it’s with me when i take some time to breath and remember that i deserve to be loved, when i speak myself despite being afraid of how i’ll be perceived, when i watch fireworks or simply when i remember a dialogue, a scene, and i smile. you’ve achieved something so beautiful and so especial and i hope you know that.

i’ve written reviews that aren’t nearly enough to express my love to your and your work. i’ve cried, i’ve laughed and i’ve kicked my feet. 3tan yoongi, very much like real life yoongi, is a safe space for me and many others, and he was written by your hand. by your care with your characters, by your preoccupation with always giving us the best, by your moments of pause and ponder and by your incredible talent. every lil hiatus, every interaction, every thirst days in the side blog, every ask game, every teaser you’ve posted, are all pieces of the beautiful now two-year-old mosaic of three tangerines, and it’s been an honor to be part of this journey, even if i’m a lil away.

you KNOW how much this series means to me, how much it has changed me. your talent, your skill, your creativity and your vision has lead us all to breath together with these characters, to feel their pain but also, and most importantly, to grow with them, and i lowkey hope this journey never ends – and i know that, even when the last chapter comes (LONG IN THE FUTURE!!), this will stay forever. three tan will have as many birthdays as its readers.

i also saw that you’ve been through some stuff lately, and i hope you’re feeling better. i hope this community can inspire some well deserved peace in you and you can have a tranquil day! 

oh and i know im slacking but i’ve read busted!! i’ve been very busy with a research project so writing a review became kinda impossible, but i’ve loved it (i wont comment much here cus this message already long af and i prefer to write decent reviews lol).

anyway, thank you. really. thank you so much for this.

LUAAAA it's been ages since you sent this but i told myself i would sit down and reply to you today bc it's been way too long sitting in the drafts. gonna put this under a cut bc there's a lot i wanna say and cry about :')))

i’ve said it about a hundred times already, but three tangerines is so special to me. this world you’ve created and to which you dedicate so much of your time and heart has become nothing short of comfort to me. reading your words, regardless of how angsty they often can be, feels like a hug. from yoongi slowly coming down to vulnerability, to reader slowly opening up to change and affection – these are the characters whose struggles i’ve followed hand in hand, by your side!

thank you. like. first of all, thank you for everything. you've been such a wonderful part of this journey, and i honestly still don't know what i did to deserve this level of love. i legitimately cried when i got this message all those days ago, because ngl it was sent during a rough time. you have no idea how much i needed this, and i truly cannot thank you enough for basically saving my writing motivation bc it felt like i was one foot out the door with everything that was going on at the time. this was something i didn't tell y'all, but it's true.

i know i’ve been absent and i’ve missed this community a lot (saw there’s a discord happening too, and imma apply to it asap!!), but i’ve never left, cus three tan is always with me. it’s with me when i take some time to breath and remember that i deserve to be loved, when i speak myself despite being afraid of how i’ll be perceived, when i watch fireworks or simply when i remember a dialogue, a scene, and i smile. you’ve achieved something so beautiful and so especial and i hope you know that.

this world is special to me, as well, and all of you are part of that. thinking of you all every single day alongside these characters has just become part of my life. and it's gonna continue to be this way for a very, very long time. we've been living lives with them - growing, changing, improving - and that is wonderful to witness.

everything you've mentioned about when you think of them? same. i just saw fireworks yesterday, and i thought of that balcony. and everything that has happened since that night fireworks was posted. as we approach the new year, you best believe i will be thinking about all of you once again.

i’ve written reviews that aren’t nearly enough to express my love to your and your work. i’ve cried, i’ve laughed and i’ve kicked my feet. 3tan yoongi, very much like real life yoongi, is a safe space for me and many others, and he was written by your hand. by your care with your characters, by your preoccupation with always giving us the best, by your moments of pause and ponder and by your incredible talent. every lil hiatus, every interaction, every thirst days in the side blog, every ask game, every teaser you’ve posted, are all pieces of the beautiful now two-year-old mosaic of three tangerines, and it’s been an honor to be part of this journey, even if i’m a lil away. you KNOW how much this series means to me, how much it has changed me. your talent, your skill, your creativity and your vision has lead us all to breath together with these characters, to feel their pain but also, and most importantly, to grow with them, and i lowkey hope this journey never ends – and i know that, even when the last chapter comes (LONG IN THE FUTURE!!), this will stay forever. three tan will have as many birthdays as its readers.

3tan yoongi means just as much to me as y'all, and reader, and everyone that's involved in this series. to know that he's like that in your life like irl yoongi? i want to cry. for real, it means so incredibly much to me that you've found comfort in both of them. i don't know what else to say other than it's the biggest damn honor i could ever think of.

even if i'm a little far away sometimes, just know that i am always coming back to 3tan. i work on it the most out of everything i've got going on, to the point where it's become part of me and my daily routine. the goal is to finish it out just as strong as it's been going thus far! and that includes all the fun times we have on this blog and discord and elsewhere!

i also saw that you’ve been through some stuff lately, and i hope you’re feeling better. i hope this community can inspire some well deserved peace in you and you can have a tranquil day! 

it's okay, love. there's been some tough times recently but we push on. my only ask of y'all is to be happy, healthy, and come say hi once in awhile<3 i do wanna keep talking to you all!

oh and i know im slacking but i’ve read busted!! i’ve been very busy with a research project so writing a review became kinda impossible, but i’ve loved it (i wont comment much here cus this message already long af and i prefer to write decent reviews lol).

you're totally ok! whenever you get the chance, you write to your heart's content and i will eat it up multiple times over just like your other wonderful fantastic amazing commentary pieces. i definitely wanna keep those forever.

anyway, thank you. really. thank you so much for this.

thank you, as well. it's been quite the journey, these two years. looking back on everything, it's unbelievable how much we've been through! but we will keep making fun memories and keep being there for each other, and everyone in the 3tan crew. thank you again, lua, and i hope you have a wonderful rest of the year and a prosperous 2024!

[rotationalsymmetry]

All right. So, I think it’s probably better to not continue engaging on the original post from a couple days ago and I think it would have been better if I’d done my usual and explained my position separately to start with. There are some things that mean things in context that would not have that meaning out of that context — for instance, perhaps arguing on someone else’s post “I want to be able to complain about stuff without it being associated with calls of censorship” might imply that I want to/am directly complaining to the writers about this stuff, since after all I am tagging this on to someone else’s post.

And there are some things about this that are very reminiscent of other times I’ve waded into Discourse without really understanding the context and as a result came across way, way differently than I intended.

(It’s I think somewhat analogous to the “queer as a slur” thing: the reason that whole concept is so fucked up is because queer IS a slur, queer is often used against us in derogatory ways and this is common knowledge, so someone who isn’t connected to a community that has reclaimed the word is gonna react with “ooh, I don’t like that word” and then you can’t tell which of the “hey just so you know you should tag the q word” people just don’t have the context and which ones are doing it entirely on purpose and which have run into and bought into some terf outlier ideas (like maybe they figure “lesbian” should mean “not attracted to men, period”) but aren’t full terf and might never be.)

There is something about dynamics on social media that just makes all this stuff extremely fraught and doesn’t really cut slack for normal amounts of not knowing stuff, not phrasing things perfectly, and/or picking up code phrases and using them for their surface meaning because you just don’t know what the dog whistles are supposed to whistle for.

Anyways my own blog my own opinions: I think part of where I was coming from is that I do actually think that “hey I have personal ethics and I want my writing to reflect that” I is not the same thing as censorship, and the original post was written as “you don’t have to” (which, when I mean personal ethics I don’t give a shit about, eg, writing about Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy or whatever) and then when Twilight got brought into it I was all like “yeah, I don’t want to write stories about stalker boyfriends who are presented as good and loving boyfriends.”

It’s important to me to tell stories that engage with themes of consent and bodily autonomy, either in the story itself or in the bigger context of the story (ie having a way to label things non-con or dub con if that��s what’s going on.) That doesn’t mean I think anyone else should have to or that I have the standing to tell other people what ethical standards to follow in their own writing if they’re not even asking me. But yeah, for me, if I’m writing, there’s some things I want to prioritize.

I want to avoid writing harmful (racial etc) stereotypes, I want to avoid writing scenes where it’s ambiguous whether this is a rape scene that’s intended to be kind of a turn-on — I have non-con fantasies, I could write non-con fantasies and I could also write stuff really digging into what effect sexual trauma has on people, I want there to be a hard line between these things. And I want to avoid writing stories where side character death is treated as, idk, scenery? ambiance? And I want to avoid “torture is OK if you’re the good guys” tropes and other designated hero tropes where the heroes are not in any way more ethical than their opposition.

I figured out how to work this around 15 years ago. Writing involves two types of things: a creative stage, like a plant growing, and a stage that’s like pruning the plant. (Which is mostly about technical stuff like grammar and pacing, but can also be about “is this the kind of story I’m comfortable writing?”) When you’re writing, “am I engaging in misogyny by calling my female villain a witch?” is going to block the creative flow and you should just use whatever words are coming to you without worrying about it, much as it’s also important to not get hung up on whether your spelling is right or whether you should be using the Oxford comma. That stuff is for the pruning stage. (Although it’s not always a straightforward write/edit thing; sometimes the “I want my writing to do certain things” stuff can be used effectively in the generating ideas phase too. But the important thing is that when you’re growing you should be growing, not second guessing yourself, you shouldn’t grow and prune at the same time.) There is a way in which getting too tense about writing responsibly can get in the way of actually writing, and it’s also possible to get writing responsibly (to your own standards) concerns in there before you’re showing off a finished product.

If you’re showing anyone at all; there is also great value in “I’m writing this just for me”, it doesn’t have to be a thing you show other people to be worth doing.

Most of the sort of ethical writing discourse I’ve seen on tumblr is beyond wonky and I generally ignore it. It is, well, extremely wonky to tell people “you have to write fem slash regardless of what you personally like, I don’t want to hear any excuses” or… I don’t even know what else is going on, because mostly I stay way away from that stuff. But there’s something that actually makes sense a few steps away from that, which is “if your default protagonist is always male, is that because you just haven’t considered trying to write female protagonists more often?” Because sometimes that happens! It happens with me! My internal sense of a default human being is male, in the same way that my sense of a default dog is a Labrador retriever, if I don’t get further direction I’m not going to picture a pekingese or a pug. He’s also white, straight, and abled — I live in a society, you know?That doesn’t mean I’m attached to writing Relatable Everyman characters, it just means if I’m going to avoid writing primarily extremely predictable white dudes (who are probably full of angst, because, well, that’s what I like to write about), sometimes I need to remind myself that other types of human beings exist.

And it’s the same with relationships and rape and stuff. I’ve read two books by women in the last few months that had scenes that were weirdly sympathetic to rapists/almost rapists, and I don’t know these writers’ souls but if that were me, that wouldn’t be because I actually wanted to write that, it would be because I’ve read too much High Literature by guys that treated that sort of thing as Art and I was just kinda copying it because I wanted to write Art too. You know? Whereas if I’m coming from a place of my own values I’m going to center on the experiences of people who are at risk of rape or who have been raped, and I’m going to be saying something on purpose that I want to say.

final thing. Sometimes people internalize other people’s “for me I want to do this” statements as “you should do this.” This is understandable because often people say “for me I want to do this” when the MEAN “everyone should do this” but want to idk be more polite or something. This especially gets tangled up with social justice stuff, because the social justice movement is a mix of people who are primarily interested in the greater good, people who want to personally be a good person and not a bad person, and people who want to be SEEN as being a good person and not a bad person. (And people who don’t want any of that but do want to use social justice language to bully and control and hurt.) It’s a mix of motivations and it’s complicated both by the bullies and by people who aren’t bullies but do want to use social pressure as an instrument of achieving social justice. Which necessarily is going to leverage people’s desires to be seen as a good person. It’s complicated.

[n7viper]

I am so so sick of people criticizing warframe and its monetization only to be hit with “yeah but you can get everything except certain cosmetics in the game for free!! you just have to grind for it”

yes, it’s true! you’re absolutely correct. but the way that rng works in the game and the drop chances they’ve set are absolutely disgusting. I have been playing off and on for over NINE years. I have 2600+ hours in the game. I have never ONCE gotten hate or despair, but I’m fucking drowning in dread and molten impact or whatever stupid fucking mod he drops. they both have a less than THREE PERCENT chance to drop from a random encounter enemy if you've done second dream (so... most everyone). and it's only a FIVE percent chance if you haven't/his target hasn't. how is that fair?

abysmal drop rates don’t keep me engaged, they leave me feeling defeated. there is nothing I can do to remedy drop chances like that. there's no skill that I can master that will help me improve. I can't keep practicing with a certain weapon to improve. I'm at the mercy of a cruel rng system that doesn't cut you any slack.

I remember looking at voruna's drop chances on the wiki after that update and saw that all of her piece bps are in rot c of some new survival node. why would i bother? I only got og octavia from prime — otherwise, I couldn’t get the last piece of her to drop from ods.

also I think the prime access pack pricing is aggressive and horrible, among other things. I hate some of the packs that you can buy in the market (fucking MOD packs and their ilk; are you kidding me??) that DE just doesn’t do much about despite community backlash. I’ve gotten suspended once for buying prime access from a cheap 3rd party and I’d fucking do it again.

sorry, I know DE are the little uwu devs that everyone loves, but I just cannot with them. the game is what it is, and it’s incredibly meaningful to me. I met a lot of wonderful people and 3 of the absolute best friends that i could ask for. it has hands down THE most amazing movement/parkour system that I have never seen matched in any other game. I love the melee weapons and stances (tonbo gang) so so much. but I think people don’t call them out on their bullshit enough. people only care to get mad when they nerf things (which yeah, deserved, but ugh)

this post has no point except that I saw yet another post where someone said warframe was "two steps up from a gacha in terms of monetization, since at least you know what you're getting when you spend way too much money on this free game" and there were lots of comments in the reblogs like "ACKSHUALLY it's not gacha, you can get everything free" and after nine years I'm fucking tired of that argument.

[haileygarciasunshine]

Widow Maker

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Fem!Ex-Widow!Reader

Written: I’ve actually been working on this for a few days lololololol someone help me. Writers block is a BITCH so is life lol.

Posted: July 12th, 2021

Warning: Some swears, Violence

Word Count: 1,605

Author's Note: Contains Spoilers (Ish? Idk) For Black Widow. Also, I made some cool ass spacers. Feel free to use them I just ask you tag me if you do!

Movie and TV Show Masterlist

Before Civil War.

“You do realize you aren’t the only one with a tragic past, right?” You questioned, feeling heat bubbling up inside, while you felt a flush feeling dancing along your cheeks.

Out of your peripheral vision, you were able to see Loki roll his eyes.

“If you keep rolling your eyes, they‘re going to get stuck up there.” You spat, turning around and leaning against the counter.

A chorus of ’Ooo’s’ sounded through the kitchen, followed by snickers.

Glancing up, you locked eyes with Natasha who in turn, raised a questioning eyebrow at you. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed silently to yourself. Without her verbally questioning, you knew she was asking why the sudden need to confront the Asgardian God.

Shaking your head, you pushed the fluttering feeling down that had begun bubbling up.

It was no secret that Loki was on his redemption tour. In fact, word around the office had been that all the females along with some men, had began fawning over him. Naturally, the sudden lustful gazes and sultry conversations had gone to his head.

Loki was quick to develop a sudden arrogance after he had found out the new chatter around him. Being with the Avengers since the beginning along with being a friend of Thor, you knew all the up’s and down’s that surrounded him. Keeping your opinion to yourself, you had been on his side since you could remember. However, with everyone on his bandwagon, you felt jealous bubble up inside.

“Does your head ever get tired of all the hot air that comes out of your mouth?” Loki shot back, earning a sharp elbow from Thor.

Snapping your head in his direction, you glared at him. “You know what? Fuck you.”

Frowning you furrowed your eyebrows together, before turning on the balls of your feet and storming out of the kitchen. Feeling tears welling up in yours, you rapidly made your way to your room. Just in time for the tears to begin cascading down your cheeks. Whenever Loki attacked someone, he knew their weaknesses and made sure to do the most damage. After a while, you situated yourself on your bed and letting sleep overwhelm you.

Jolting awake, your heart rapidly beated out of your chest as the sound of knocking on your door, captured your attention.

Gasping, you turned to face your door before steadily getting to your feet. Opening your door, your jaw fell slack as you stared at the person before you. Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you decided it would be better to step aside and allow them in.

Loki stood awkwardly in the middle of your room. His hands firm by his side. Shutting the door, you leaned against it as you stared at Loki with disbelief. Neither of you wanted to be the first to break the silence.

Standing before you, he glanced around your room, seemly taking in your belongings. Clearing his throat, he turned around to face you.

”I… I uh…” His voice trailed off as he began his light blueberry eyes capturing Y/E/C ones. As you gazed at each other, you were able to see an underlying emotion, that you weren’t sure he was able to express until now.

Coming to your senses, you felt your walls hold steadily as you began fearing letting them down.

”If…If you’ve come here to apologize..” Your voice trailed off. Gazing down at your hands, you began picking at your cuticle bed. One of your many habits you had. “Save it.”

Dropping his gaze to his feet, his head hung low. The air began holding silent cries that neither would feel. Lost words that would never be spoken. All emotion evaporing into nothingness.

“I think you should go.” You mumbled at Loki. Not daring to glance at him, you rushed towards the bathroom before shutting the door without another word. Putting the toilet seat down, you perched yourself on it. Placing your elbows on your knees, you lowered your head into your hands. Tears began welling up in yours at your loss of emotions.

——

After Civil War. Cue Black Widow Era, also cue spoilers.

”Nat.” You hissed as you stood before Natasha.

Responding with hum she placed the phone she had just been talking into on the ledge. Glancing around she subtly slide it off the ledge and into the water.

”Natasha!” You demanded.

”What!” She grumbled.

“Why do you insist on taunting them?”

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes. “The same reason, you and reindeer games keep dancing around your feelings for one another.” She shrugged.

”We don’t have feelings for-“

Cutting you off she let out a humorless chuckle. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Letting your jaw hang open slightly, any argument you had thought of, instantly dying in your throat. Scrunching your eyebrows together you were at a loss for words.

”We…We don’t like each other.” Your attempted to argue.

”Right.” She spoke in disbelief. Turning to gaze at the mountains, you heard her mumbled something in Russian under her breath.

”What-“

”If that’s true,” Natasha turned her attention back towards you. “Then why is he here?”

Reflecting on her question, you were able to respond when you sensed a presence approaching you from behind. Turning on your heels, you faced the perpetrator.

”Hello, love.” Loki greeted, his eyes sparkling as he spoke. A grin making it’s way to his lips.

A fluttering feeling bubbled inside your stomach. Your palms rapidly growing damp. Without much thought, you propelled yourself into his arms. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders gently yanking him into you. It wasn’t long before you felt a rumble in his chest from his chuckling. Loki wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you closer than normal. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, catching the scent of your shampoo that he longed to smell again.

”It’s been too long.”

Moving to pull away, Loki tightened his arms preventing from the slight distance between you. “That it has.” You responded with a nod.

After the events of that night in your room, Loki had gone above and beyond to prove he was worthy of your forgiveness. After awhile his attempts at forgiveness, lead to a blossom in friendship.

”How is space?” You questioned after he reluctantly allowed you to pull away.

”Space…Space is good.” He spoke nodding his head.

Grinning at him, you couldn’t stop thinking that it was all a dream. One that was sweet, the kind that you don’t want to wake up from because it seems too good to be true, especially because it usually is.

“What are you doing here?” You regretted asking as soon as you spoke.

”I…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to reflect on the question.

Cutting him off, Natasha made her way beside you both. “We have to go.” She spoke, her voice holding back a slight panic that you could see bubbling up behind her strong demeanor.

Snapping your head in Loki’s direction you were about to saying your goodbye, when she cut you off.

”All of us.”

Nodding your head, you ahout to question her when she cut you off once again.

”No time. Come on!”

——

After finding Yelena, the four of you set off on a venture to search for their so called, mother and father. Both girls held twenty years worth of anger and bitterness, especially aimed at each other.

Yelena was the helicopter pilot for the mission, while Natasha was the muscle and brains. More often than not settling in the shot gun rider seat. Thus, leaving you and Loki alone in the back.

Sitting side by side, you were jostled together before you were thrown against his side.

Sending you a grin, he silently let you know he didn’t much mind the non existent proximity between you. Neither of you spoke much on the flight, however you often witnessed the cringeworthy interaction between Alexei and both girls.

——

After arriving at Melina’s little farm, you had begun to feel awkward. There was a sense of family as well as anger. Rightfully so, both girls had been subjected to torture and used as weapons forgoing most of their lives.

Standing idly in the kitchen, Natasha appeared beside you. Jumping at her sudden presence you placed a hand over your heart.

”Geez, Nat! Don’t do that!“ You cautioned. “You scared me!”

Natasha giggled at your reaction. After the moment quickly died down, she mirrored your stance of leaning against the counters.

Nudging your shoulder with hers, she had a smirk plastered upon the seams of her lips.

”Do you believe me now?”

Tilting your head, you gazed at her with question. “About?”

Rolling her eyes, she let out a groan. “About Loki sharing the feelings you have for him.”

Scoffing you shook your head. “I don’t really need a monologue on that.”

“Seems to me that you do.”

Standing together, you allowed a blanket of silence to overwhelm you.

”You should give him a chance.” She muttered quietly.

If it hadn’t been eerily quiet in the kitchen, you wouldn’t have heard her.

“I…What?” You gasped.

“Don’t make me say it.” She moaned.

“Say what?”

Letting out a defeated sigh, she shook her head. “I think he’s a good guy.”

”What do you-“

Before you had the chance to question her, Loki rushed into the kitchen. His eyes filled with bewilderment. He came off frazzled.

”Are you okay?” You questioned suddenly forgetting about the question you had partially spoke to Natasha.

”They’re here-“

Luminescent lights from outside suddenly shone inside. Turning to face the lights, you and Natasha held a startling gaze.

Something you hadn’t felt since reclaiming your freedom from the Widow program washed over you. Judging by Natasha‘s features that seemed to be mirroring yours, you knew she had the same feeling.

Fear.

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[13uswntimagines]

Family’s Hard (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

Request: part 2 of the fic with Kristie that you post today! Maybe something with the r and Kristie both getting call for the national camp and we see a bit of what happen at camp with mal. pt 2. Maybe with both the reader and Kristine on the USENT roster and the fallout with Amal because of the reader being there. part 2 of the reader and mal meet up again joined by the team

Pt. One 

You had never been more unhappy while staring at a plate full of pancakes in your entire existence. You loved your typical practice meal (and your girlfriend of almost a year’s hand on your thigh while you ate it), but you weren’t enjoying the disapproving glare you were getting from across the table. She had been like this the moment you stepped off the plane, and you feared she wouldn’t stop until camp was over. 

It wasn’t like you decided to sit at this table to annoy Mal. Kristie wanted to sit with Sam, and you weren’t about to brave the dining room all by your little lonesome (plus you liked the team's Tower of Power and enjoyed watching the siblings banter).

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, pushing your chocolate chip pancakes around the plate, and keeping your eyes trained on your fork. 

“You ok?” Your girlfriend asked, her lips caressing your ear. You didn’t miss the way your older sister's nose scrunched at the looseness between you and the older midfielder. 

“Just tired. The flight from Houston was super long,” You mumbled, shrugging lightly. 

“You sure?” Kristie nudged your cheek with her nose and squeezed your thigh. You had been jittery since you left your shared apartment in Houston to head for camp and no amount of reassuring from your girlfriend seemed to be helping. 

“Psh. The flight home from France was exhausting, and then we had to get ready for good morning America. That was crazy, right Sammy?” Mal said with a wicked smile, completely cutting you off. Your mouth clicked shut and Kristie squeezed your thigh again (her jaw working overtime to prevent the scathing comment from leaving the tip of her tongue). 

Mal had been impossible since you stepped foot into the hotel the USWNT had commandeered for camp. She had swung between outright bitchy and underhanded reminders of Jill's preference of her over you all day and Kristie was getting sick of it. Your shoulders slouched a little more with every remark, every jab clouding over a little bit more of your sunshine. 

“That was pretty crazy,” Sam nodded, watching you and her sister carefully. She was trying to run as much interference as she could, but it seemed your sister wanted to make you as uncomfortable as possible. Almost like she was trying to drive you off the team. 

“Definitely not as crazy as that party right after we won. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much champagne in my entire life. Not even after we beat Texas,” Mal added, and you shivered at the memory, wilting under her glare. 

It was your freshman year (and coincidentally Mal’s senior year), and the first time the two of you had ever really played against each other. UCLA decimated your team and took over a frat house to celebrate. From what you heard, it was one of the biggest parties Texas A&M had ever seen. 

Kristie sighed, wrapping the arm that was on your leg around your back, rubbing soothing circles. You leaned into the touch, still playing with the food on your plate, trying to hold your tongue and not rise to Mal’s prodding. 

“From what I hear there was a lot of alcohol after Houston won the challenge cup,” Sam nodded, sharing a look with her sister and side-eyeing her friend. 

“That was just beer, Sammy. It wasn’t as classy because no one cares about an arbitrary chaos cup win, especially after we won the World Cup. It’s all about scale,” Mal continued, completely ignoring the glare Kristie had pointed at her, enjoying the way you were squirming in your chair. 

You shoved your plate away, giving up on eating. You didn’t want to be here. 

“I'm sure. I’m gonna go. The uniform staff wanted to see me anyway,” You mumbled, just loud enough for Kristie to hear you (or so you thought). 

Mal’s vicious smile grew. She just couldn’t seem to help herself when it came to you. You were always chasing after her, and this time she had done what you couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to give that up yet. 

“I’d tell you to switch names, but all I can suggest is to pick a number you can actually live up to,” She sneered. 

Your entire being froze and you blinked owlishly at your older sister (taking comfort in how Kristie's arm tightened around you). 13 had been your number since high school, but you knew that Alex was a vet and you weren’t stupid (or disrespectful) enough to even dream of trying to take it. You knew you would never be even close to the level of Alex Morgan. 

You had accepted that and Instead chosen a different number, one you were proud to wear. You had no control over the last name on your jersey (until Kristie and you decided you wanted to get married, if you wanted to get married, and that was still pretty far off). 

“Come on. They wanted to do a quick check-in with me too,” Kristie said, standing and dragging you with her out of the room, her eyes sending daggers towards your sister. She was done watching you collapse back into yourself. 

****

Sam stared at Mal’s Cheshire Cat grin, her mouth agape. She didn’t understand why your older sister was being like this, or how she could continue eating as though she didn’t just rip you apart. (And at this rate someone had to stop her before Kristie killed her). 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam said, leaning forward and resting both elbows on the table. 

Mal shrugged, taking another sip of her orange juice. “What? I’m just being realistic,”

If you didn’t want to hear stories about their triumph at the World Cup, or how awesome the party was afterward, you could just find yourself a new seat (and take your girlfriend with you- you always did have to outdo her). 

“You were a little harsh babe,” Rose said softly, patting the forward's hand. 

Sam scoffed loudly, shaking her head. “She practically crumbled under that last comment,”

It was painful to watch your shy bean self withdraw back into the shell her sister worked so hard to crack. Even if you had Kristie here to support you, she wasn’t sure how long you would last without bursting into tears or getting into a screaming match with your sister. You were under enough pressure as it was. 

“She’s just overly sensitive. If she wants to play in the big leagues she’s going to have to learn to stand up for herself,” Mal rolled her eyes. 

It was a going joke in your family that Mal got the brains and beauty, while you just got the leftover emotions. Ever since you were kids, she had been the extroverted one saving you from bullies and being the “good example” that her parents wanted her to be. But this was her thing, and she didn’t want you horning in on it. (It was also a slight protective instinct too. She would rather be the one giving you shit than the media. They were ruthless and you would probably never forgive her. The road to hell was paved with good intentions after all.)

Sam sighed, taking in how Mal’s eyes tighten just a touch beneath her nonchalance. As much as she wanted to pretend she didn’t care about you, it was obvious that she did. The questions now were if she was willing to have a change of attitude and if she would even be able to repair the damage she had already done. 

“Just be careful with how far you push her, alright?” Sam said thoughtfully. 

Mal rolled her eyes again, any care she may have felt disappearing. “I know what I’m doing Sam,” 

“I really hope you do, because I remember what it was like to always be trying to live up to your older sister and how difficult that was. And Kristie knew when to cut me some slack,” Sam said, raising her eyebrow at the younger woman. 

She really hoped she could get through to her before Mal lost you, and Kristie kicked her head off. 

*****

You sighed into Kristie's lips, enjoying the way her hips pinned you to the wall and her tongue explored your mouth. You weren’t one for public displays of affection, but she had dragged you into an abandoned corner of the hotel after your sister's clear display of disdain. 

You guessed an upside to being at camp with Mal was your girlfriend's desire to cheer you up. You always responded better to physical contact (which was why Kristie used it to help you calm down all the time). 

You hummed as the hands under your shirt made their way up to cup your cheeks, her fingers tangling in the baby hairs at the back of your neck. She let the kiss continue for another minute, before pulling back, so her lips were just barely ghosting over your own and your foreheads were touching. 

You futilely tried to push off the wall and chase her lips, only for her to chuckle and pull back so you couldn’t reach, keeping you pinned with her hips. 

“Ah, no more kisses until you say it,” She mumbled, her breath fanning across your lips. 

You whined. You loved how supportive Kristie was, but you didn’t want to do this right now. You didn’t want to go through your normal reaffirmation routine. Not after the shots, Mal had taken at you. 

“But-“

Kristie chucked at the keening whine again, shaking her head (both at how adorable your pout was and because she was standing her ground). She learned a long time ago that the best way to stop your mental spiraling was for you to say how worth it you were. “No buts. To get what you want you gotta say it,” 

You huffed, I ally opening your eyes to look into Kristie’s determined blue. She raised her eyebrow at you. 

“I’m an amazing person, no matter what anyone says,” You mumbled, looking away from your girlfriend. She hummed, using her thumb to tilt your chin back up. 

“And?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips. Your pout deepened. You were set to start and Mal had made you feel bad about it. Now Kristie was trying to get you to admit that you deserved the opportunity. 

The two of you stared at each other for a long minute, and you debated in trying to get back to the kissing again, to not say the last part of your mantra. Kristie's thumb ran soothingly over your cheek as if she was reading your mind. “Come on babe,” she said softly. 

You bit your lip, finally giving in. “I shouldn’t feel guilty about opportunities I receive,”

“Good,” Kristie smiled, leaning back in to connect your lips. You smiled back into the kiss. Maybe things weren’t so bad if you got this treatment after your sister was mean to you, even if Kristie was trying to get you to finally confront her about her behavior. “And for the record, you can always say you’ll have a cooler last name later,” 

*****

This was getting out of hand. Very out of hand. You hit the ground again, your face scraping against the turf after another bad tackle. You groaned, pushing yourself up off the turf and brushing yourself off, ignoring the hand of the defender in front of you in favor of taking the hand your girlfriend offered. 

Kristie glared at the blond defender, very pissed off that she was pushing you so hard. “Fucking watch it Sonnett, another tackle like that and I’ll beat your ass myself,” Your girlfriend growled, brushing a stray piece of turf off your back. 

Emily shrugged, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. “Just trying to test the Rookie. Need to make sure she can handle a little pressure,” 

She liked you, but with the pressure, Mal was putting n you, she thought that they were all going to go hard. To show you exactly how difficult this game could be and how much you needed to work to be on their level. 

“I think Mal is doing enough of that on her own,” Kristie raised her eyebrow at the woman, still rubbing the turf off your back and cringing at the new burn. If this hadn’t been a teammate’s doing, she probably would have killed them by now. Ripped them limb from limb for touching you, but you didn’t need that. You needed her support and not her overprotectiveness. 

“She actually needs to be able to play against Canada,” Sam said, patting her back. Emily shook her head. Mal was right. She would rather be the one to go hard on you and prepare you than some random defender who didn’t care at all. 

As far as she was concerned, Mal’s plan was still in effect and you were going to have to pull some trick to get past her again. 

****

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Kristie threaded a ball through the gap between Becky and Julie, straight to you. You turned, taking advantage of the gap in the backline, dribbling across to try and get a clear shot. 

You didn’t see that gap collapsing. You didn’t see Emily and Midge racing towards you until it was too late. There was a loud crunch as you were caught between the two defenders, and tumbled to the ground. 

The reaction from the rest of the team was instant. Kristie raced over, followed closely by Sam. Both women kneeling down next to you, trying to get you to roll over. It seemed that another blue blur was already laying into the two defenders. 

“Lay the fuck off my sister,” Mal yelled, shoving Sonnett back from where her shifting form was standing over you. 

Emily held her hands up in defense, stumbling away from you. “I’m just trying to keep the intensity up, exactly like you are,” 

Mal growled audibly, stepping up to the taller defender and wrapping her fist into her shirt. “It’s different. She’s my sister and I’m the only one who gets to fuck with her. Got it,” she said her voice deadly calm. 

Emily nodded rapidly, her eyes wide as Mal straightened her shirt, patting her shoulder. Emily backed away slowly, her hands still extended, terrified that Mal (and your girlfriend) would decide to actually kill her. 

Mal nodded once the offending defenders were far enough away from you, before turning in your direction. 

You were finally on your feet, shifting awkwardly and rubbing the back of your neck. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled as she approached. 

She smiled, pulling you into a very strange hug.“You got it, kid. I love you, even if you’re not as good as me yet,”

She let you go and winked. You smiled and trotted off back to your position, warmth filling you. Sure you weren’t on the best terms, but you were sisters and the act was like a white flag. A truce. 

Kristie caught Mal’s arms as she passed. “Learn to lay off a little bit. I don’t want to have to hurt you,”

Mal nodded. You were family mad the only one who got to mess with you was her. She would kill anyone else who tried and she was glad you had gained two protectors. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it

[ackerfics]

slow dance with you — mikasa ackerman

— goth!mikasa ackerman x soft!female reader (modern au)

— warnings: slight mention of alcohol, pure rotten fluff

— summary:  after gaining some courage from the drinks she had in the party and from the advice she got from her friends, mikasa is ready to become your girlfriend.

— word count: 3.9k

— author’s notes: i would like to thank the anon who gave me some ideas for goth!mikasa, you are so amazing !! thank you for the small headcanons. and since we’re on the topic of writing abt goth!mikasa, i couldn’t help but pair her up with a classic soft girl who likes to wear pink at every time of the day. this dynamic is based on marceline and princess bubblegum so i hope you enjoy !!

p.s. the reader will have dyed hair here, if this is not your cup of tea, just let this fly by your dash.

listen to this while reading.

“She dyed her hair pink,” came a dazed yet mesmerized tone.

“You’re staring at her again.”

Mikasa jumped on her seat at Eren’s nonchalant observation. She whipped her head to her best friend, his attention directed on his laptop, hands flying across the keyboard as he typed out the next few words in his essay. Noticing the incredulous look the black-haired girl was shooting him, Eren rose an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. Mikasa huffed, crossing her eyes with a subtle hue of red on her cheeks, complimenting her dark lipstick. “I am not staring,” she mumbled. “Shut up, Eren.” She looked away from her subject of interest but continued shooting small glances.

Eren sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was always one of the witnesses of his best friend slash sister being meek around her crush. At first, he was teasing her because not going to lie, Mikasa’s crush is a pretty person but as their years in college made them juniors, Eren will be the reckless idiot that he is (courtesy of Armin) and set Mikasa up. But he liked to live his life out first — Mikasa will probably curse him with that spellbook she bought from the antique bookshop they encountered in their little exploration back when they were first-years. “Mikasa, why don’t you take the chance and confess to her? It’s not going to be the end of the world.”

“If she rejects me? What then?”

“Then that’s the next problem that you will have to face.” The brown-haired boy turned back to his essay. He stared at his laptop screen blankly before spewing out curses. “Now, I forgot what to write next! Damn it.” He picked up his iced coffee and drank from the metal straw as his life depended on it.

Mikasa rolled her eyes at her best friend’s first statement. “Gee, thanks for the advice. It was very much appreciated.”

“Glad to be of help.”

There was a thud on their table that made the two look up from their respective activities. Eren had a scowl on his face because for the nth time this day, he was interrupted from finishing his essay (for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want to fail Ackerman’s class). Mikasa blinked from scrolling through her crush’s Twitter account (the last post she wrote was about how Levi Ackerman, Mikasa’s relative and everyone’s Anthropology professor) and fixed her attention on their blonde friend, Armin. He looked too bright after a round of morning classes, something that Eren doesn’t comprehend. The blue-eyed young man has always been the rational and genius third of their little group. There wasn’t a time where Armin’s advice got a situation to erupt in flames. It was either the situation became an inferno instead (Eren) or nobody had the guts to do it (Mikasa).

“Hey, guys!” Armin greeted, arranging his side of the table, meticulously placing each component of his lunch in front of him. “How were your morning classes?”

“Shit,” Eren spat out.

“Of course, it is.”

“They were alright,” Mikasa shrugged.

“Figured.” Armin glanced at his friend’s sides of the table, nodding at Mikasa’s balanced lunch while blankly staring at Eren’s laptop. The device should’ve been a good tray of lunch. “I thought you were eating lunch, Eren? That’s what you said in your text.”

“Can’t,” the brown-haired boy huffed. He gestured at his iced coffee without taking his eyes off the laptop. “I guess, this counts as my lunch.”

“When’s that essay due?”

“In about,” Eren looked at the time on his laptop, “three hours. Ackerman is my first period later. That fucking terror professor has no mercy when it comes to this. Can he just piss off for once? Mikasa, do you even tell him to get laid? Because I think that would solve his attitude. I swear to God, he’s getting more pissed every damn day.”

“Wow, I guess getting my short, grumpy, middle-aged uncle to start his sex life will be a nice conversation starter,” Mikasa drawled, half-lidded, bored eyes reading every tweet her crush has posted for the entire week. Mikasa couldn’t help but smile at one post about a new movie her crush just watched, saying that it was now a new favorite. She was tempted to give a heart on every single post but that would it weird because they never followed each other despite the small interactions they shared in between classes. With a sigh, she looked up, only to be met with Eren’s unamused stare. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What? Do you think that would work, Eren? Levi is probably a virgin his whole life and will continue his record until he’s all shriveled up.” Eren blanched at the image. “Just finish your homework and stop complaining.”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough, that’s for sure. If you just started that essay the day he assigned it to your class, you would have finished it way before the deadline.”

Eren pointed at Mikasa with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even go there, Mikasa. I have a life aside from being a sleep-deprived college student.”

“I mean, she’s got a point, Eren.” Armin immediately rose his hands in defense when Eren shifted his glare from the black-haired young woman to him. “You always tend to procrastinate in the most impeccable timing that we sometimes have to remind you of your backlogs. And now, here you are, doing things last minute when you could’ve prevented the rush by doing it immediately.”

“Thanks for slapping the reality to my face, you two,” Eren dryly replied, going back to his essay for the final time. “And by the way, Armin, give Mikasa some solid advice that she will finally follow because she’s making googly eyes at Miss Pretty two tables from us a couple of minutes before you arrived. You know, the love of her life?”

Armin roamed his eyes in the lunch hall and sure enough, there was Mikasa’s goddess sitting with her group of friends. There was that brown-haired girl that was dubbed as the Potato Girl for eating mashed potatoes during Ackerman’s class (the professor told the class his rules of no eating or going out of the room while he’s discussing the moment the girl took a spoonful of her snack). A young man with a buzz cut snorting at what the brown-haired girl said. Armin remembered sharing a class with him. He never got the chance to introduce himself because the young man was sleeping throughout the lecture. There was usually a fourth person in the little group but it seems like he was running late or already in his class. That person was Eren’s sworn frenemy, the reason for that relationship was unknown to this day.

The three people at the table all stood up, the brown-haired girl and the taller young man leading the way. Armin instantly had an idea.

“Hey, [Name]!”

Mikasa nearly had whiplash from turning her head to Armin. “Armin?!” she hissed under her breath, face becoming hotter when you looked at their table, a bright smile lighting up your face. You called your friends, telling them to go on ahead without you, to which they nodded before walking towards the trio’s table. Her brain wasn’t processing the moment you lifted a hand to wave at whoever you were smiling at. Mikasa wished it was her. “Fuck,” she whispered, registering how cute you look. You donned a salmon pink plaid sundress and a white cardigan, matching with the bubblegum pink locks you let down. Her heart was hammering a thousand miles per second and there was no hope of stopping it.

“Hi, Armin,” you replied, stopping a few feet from Mikasa, who looked away from you to fix her wide-eyed stare on her empty plate.

“I was just going to ask if you already have a partner in our Molecular Biology lab?” The blue-eyed young man then turned to Mikasa and Eren. “I’m in the same class as her this year.”

“As if calling her here wasn’t that obvious,” Eren murmured, still typing out his essay.

“I don’t need your dry remarks right now, Eren, don’t want to ruin the atmosphere. So, [Name], you have a partner?”

You shook your head. “I think not. It would be great if we could be partners though. I need a break from the people I’ve been partnered with throughout college.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. It was true, though. Most of the grouping during your first years of college were all set up by the teachers so the students really had no say on the matter at hand. Even Armin was exposed to a variety of students, most of them being too slacking to participate or too overbearing with their suggestions that they have no plans of doing. He nodded with a smile, “I’ll be sending an email to Professor Zoe about this and we’re done.” He glanced behind you, noticing that your two friends weren’t there anymore. “I’m sorry for holding you up. I’m pretty sure you have a class after lunch. See you around?”

You waved him off. “It’s fine, I told them to go ahead since Sasha has a class scheduled right after lunch and Connie had to nap in his dorm. And I don’t have any class the whole afternoon, except for an online session so yeah, see you around, Armin.” You acknowledge Eren with a nod, to which he responded with a cool expression (as if his mind wasn’t a mess from the cramming), and gave a soft smile to Mikasa, “Bye, Mikasa.” And you were off to your dorm, leaving behind two amused men and an awestruck Mikasa.

The black-haired young woman was hyperventilating the moment you disappeared from the lunch hall, hands clenched on top of her black shorts. She regretted wearing a thin, long-sleeved striped sweater under her black shirt because it was so fucking hot after that encounter. Her entire body was vibrating with too many emotions all at once, short-circuiting until she became a heap of flustered mess in front of her best friends. “Oh, my God,” she muttered like a prayer. She definitely needed one after seeing you all pretty in pink. It was too much for her soul because you two are a perfect match this time. Her grommet belt and choker were not helping because she couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Mikasa, breathe,” Armin reminded beside her. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Once she regained her composure, Mikasa realized she probably looked like a gaping fish. “Oh, my God! I’m so sure that this time, she thinks I’m weird. My name is the only one she mentioned aside from Armin which is saying something because she’s classmates with him. But why did she say goodbye to me? Oh, my God, she’s giving me so many butterflies right now.”

“Your gay is showing,” Eren pointed out calmly.

“Eren, not the time,” Armin murmured, hovering his hands over Mikasa’s back.

“Just wanted to alleviate the tense atmosphere. No need to get so worked up.”

“But, Mikasa, your feelings for her are showing.”

Eren clapped his hands, pointing a finger at Armin. “That, my friend, is a genius observation.”

Ignoring the green-eyed man, Armin continued, “I think it’s time you confess to her. Three years is a pretty long time pining for a person. In the end, her knowing your feelings will be inevitable. That is if you have no plans in letting her know.”

“Of course, I want her to know,” Mikasa murmured, fiddling with the sleeves of her striped long-sleeves.

“I heard that there’s a party this Saturday in Reiner’s frat,” Eren told them, meeting both of his friends’ eyes over the top of his laptop screen. “We’re in the same football team with Jean. The horseface is a friend of your girl,” he nodded at Mikasa, who erupted in a sputter of her crush not being her girl, “okay, not your girl — yet. As I was saying, [Name] is good friends with Jean and if Jean is there, Miss Pretty in Pink will be, too. That’s your chance to ask her out, Mikasa.” He met the blinking gray eyes of his best friend. “The question is, are you up for that?”

-

“You were staring at her so hard at lunch again.”

You looked up from your book to acknowledge Sasha entering your dorm room after a whole afternoon of packed lectures. The brown-haired young woman was so tired that she immediately plopped on top of her bed on the other side of the room. At first, you didn’t register what she said because you were preoccupied with your book. You chose to indulge the night in a good book because it has been a long time since you’ve done that. With furrowed eyebrows, you asked, “Can you repeat what you said, Sasha?”

Sasha tilted her head to look at you with one eye uncovered by her duvet. Her hair fluttered after puffing out a breath of disbelief. “Oh, don’t pretend that you have no idea, Miss Pretty in Pink.”

“That’s because I didn’t catch what you said,” you replied, gesturing at your novel. “And what’s with that Miss Pretty in Pink nickname? Did some of the students around campus started that?”

“Sort of,” Sasha hummed. She sat up from her bed and took out her phone from her backpack lying on the floor. You watched the whole time she stretched her arm without changing her position on her bed. With her phone in hand, she opened her Twitter account. “Actually, a friend of mine tweeted it, wait, I’m just going to scroll through my Likes tab to find her tweet. Oh, here it is.” Sasha showed you her screen, patiently waiting for you to take the device from her hand to get a closer look. Her hopeful smile turned into a small pout when you made no moves in doing so. “Take my phone and see for yourself.”

You sighed, following her pleas. “It’s probably just someone from the volleyball team. You know how some of them never stopped following me around campus. Can’t they take the hint that they’re not my type?”

“This person is much better than those himbo simps following you around. She’s an amazing person behind that shy exterior of hers.”

You only hummed, blankly staring at your roommate’s phone before your eyes widened in realization. Your eyes skimmed over and over again at the handle, mkackerman, beside the display picture of a short-haired girl in pigtails. It was the girl that managed to capture your attention during your first year at Eldia University. The girl with an air of mystique that the stars are jealous of. You always admired her from afar, appreciating her style each day. But your admiration was getting replaced with something more at the five words she tweeted. 

You’re so pretty in pink.

Roses bloomed in your cheeks, complimenting your pink hair the longer you gawked at her short post. 

“What?” you breathed out after a full minute of silence.

“Mm-hmm,” Sasha hummed with a smug smile. “And who dyed her hair pink impulsively last weekend?” She intentionally looked at you with sharp eyes, her smile turning into a smirk full of mischief. In actuality, Sasha knew of Mikasa’s crush on you since they were acquainted with each other. It was an embarrassing first meeting between the two, with Sasha latching on a random person’s arm in the station and it turned out to be Mikasa. The two became great friends after that, well, after Mikasa lowered her guard down, leaving her pocket knife safely tucked underneath her checkered skirt. It was Sasha who managed to make Mikasa confess of her undying love for you, the former squealing her heart out in the library. (They were kicked out after that.) 

“I don’t know,” you denied. “There could be a couple of people in the campus who thought that spontaneously dyeing their hair pink is an awesome idea.” You threw your hands in the air, giving back Sasha her phone right after.

“Trust me. Mikasa doesn’t have any interest in any other girl other than a special someone I know.”

You chose to ignore her, turning back on the discarded book on top of your covers. The words flew around your mind, aggravating you until you placed the novel on your lap. A defeated sigh came out of your lips. “Okay, let’s go out for some dinner.” You stretched, switching your pajama bottoms for a pair of loose jeans, and leaving your button-down pajama top on. The people in public will never know your top is a part of a pajama set. As you ducked down to roll the bottom of your jeans, you hear Sasha’s bed shuffling. Sitting up, you regarded her with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow. “Spill it.”

“Oh, alright. Jean told me to bring you to a party.”

You stood up, patting your lap of imaginary dust, placing your things and book inside your tote bag. “Tell him no. I have a written exam coming up and I don’t want to fail one of my majors. He can manage without one person in our friendship group.”

Sasha huffed, mimicking your actions. “This will be the last time!”

“You said that the previous party you pulled me to.” You narrowed your eyes at her. “I couldn’t get up for a whole day because of that party. Don’t forget your wallet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sasha threw her wallet in her small bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder. “I promise that this will be the last time, I’ll even call Connie for the witness of my pact!” She placed a heartfelt palm over her chest, lifting her chin a little in the air. “I solemnly swear I am … keeping my promise.”

“You hesitated.”

The brown-haired girl giggled sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s kind of hard not to continue the quote from Harry Potter. You can’t blame me for that!”

���I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You better because Mikasa will be there.”

You blinked at her statement. “What does this have to do with her?”

Your roommate looped her arm with yours, pulling you in the direction of the elevators. “Because,” it sounded like she was talking to a child, “you were staring at her earlier during lunch period. I understand that because Mikasa looks so good every second of the day but there was something different about the way you’re staring at her.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Let me see, there’s some pizzaz there.”

“The pizzaz you’re talking about is me admiring her make-up — nothing more.”

“Whatever you say,” came Sasha’s sing-song voice. “I will be the first one who will say ‘I told you so’ to your face when you two start dating.”

-

The night of the party was not as bizarre as you thought.

Sure, there were people having shots in the living room but there weren’t any extreme scenarios lying around unlike some of the parties Connie and Jean went to. It was mostly catching up with old friends or making connections with strangers by ranting about the education system of your university. All in all, it was a fun night, yet here you are, holding your cup of beer with two hands as you craned your neck to get a glimpse of Sasha. Your roommate disappeared as you turned to get a shot, leaving a confused you behind. To think you specifically asked Sasha to be by your side throughout the night. You cursed in your head, you being reliant on the presence of others surfacing. Your stress made you tip your head back, downing your drink in a go.

Without anything to do, you leaned back on the wall. Mind hazy, eyes glassy, you searched the living room for a spunky brown-haired girl that you were supposed to be buddies with. Instead of Sasha, you met gazes with a girl with stars for her eyes. She was equally mesmerized as she was staring straight at you. Everything became silent as your heartbeat resonated with hers. She was beautiful in her all-black outfit — a leather pencil skirt over fishnet stockings, cropped tank top, and combat boots. The two of you are contrasting with one another; her lipstick so dark whilst yours shone a pretty coral, her hair framing her face in a midnight pixie cut whilst yours were in pink waves cascading down, her entire appearance blending in the background whilst you were a beacon with your coordinating soft outfit. 

God damn it, Sasha was right.

You are definitely falling in love with Mikasa Ackerman.

Mikasa who you saw reading tarot cards of her blonde friend. Mikasa who you bumped into during the opening ceremony two years ago. Mikasa who you discovered to have an affinity for electric guitars when you stumbled in one of the auditoriums, her department’s band having an audition. Mikasa who never meets your gaze because you make her nervous at how effortless you carry yourself. 

But tonight, she never looked away from you, her eyes having an adoring yet determined shine.

She stopped in front of you, mere inches separating you two. You looked up at her, her combat boots making her taller than she already is. You saw her eyes flick to your lips, your breath hitching at the thought of having her dark lipstick on any part of your body. With a careful tilt of her head, Mikasa ducked her head a little to fully meet your eyes face to face. “I saw you’re alone,” her voice is still soft-spoken as if she was afraid that she was scaring you. It might be because of the liquid and verbal courage she got from drinking and listening to her best friends because Mikasa had no plans of letting you go tonight. “I thought you needed company.”

A breath came out of your lips, your proximity making Mikasa feel it. “Uhm, if it’s you, I don’t see why not?”

A large smile brightened Mikasa’s face before it dimmed as she lowered her gaze to your lips once more. “I’ve been waiting three years for this.”

Maybe your mind was too hazy with alcohol or it could be because you accepted your feelings for the black-haired girl, so you whispered, lips brushing against hers in the most addicting way possible, “Just kiss me, Mikasa.”

Her lips softly moved against yours in a slow dance, the inches separating you disappearing as Mikasa wrapped an arm around your waist. You lift a hand to cup her jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and to brush your tongue with hers. You felt her shiver, biting your lower lip to make you open up more, with your whimpers tingling her hearing. Mikasa pulled away, trailing firm kisses on the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Seeing the black kiss mark on your skin, she smiled and placed fluttering kisses on your neck up to your cheek. Opening your eyes, the silver grays in front of you have never been so beautiful. You returned the favor of placing kiss marks. You stood on your tiptoes, feeling Mikasa’s hand steadying you, and left a coral pink mark on the corner of her mouth. 

Mikasa dipped her head, placing her lips close to your ear.

“I want to slow dance with you,” she sung to your ear. “I know all the other boys are tough and smooth and I got the blues. I want to slow dance with you.” Mikasa hid a small smile at your flustered expression. “So can I be your vampire queen, Bonnie?”

The moment you said yes, there was a shout in the crowds. “Hell yeah, your plan worked, Eren, Armin!”

You and Mikasa stared at each other with wide eyes before laughing. 

“Let’s go ditch this party.”

“Thought you’d never ask, Bonnie.”

[prentissinred]

Life in Pink

Rated T (mild suggestive content) Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2.5k AO3

Hi friends! Guess what? This past weekend marked one year since I posted my first story! How crazy is that?!

I’m so utterly grateful to this community for being such a bright spot in a difficult year. To everyone who’s taken the time to read something I’ve written, thank you for being so kind and supportive. It means more to me than I can express in words. To the brilliant, lovely, talented people I now get to call my friends, I love you all so very much.

To commemorate the occasion, I wrote a little something. This is set in the world of The Wonder of You, which was the first story I’ve ever written – but you don't need to have read that to understand this :)

I hope you like it <3

--

“I mean it, JJ. Whatever happens, do not call us.”

“Yes, Emily. For the hundredth time, I promise not to call you.”

Aaron slipped his free hand into his wife’s and squeezed. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fine. Strauss knows we’re away, and our backlog is miraculously clear. We’ll be okay.”

He returned to packing up his things on his desk while Emily huffed and quietly muttered something unflattering about their superior under her breath. JJ chuckled and embraced her friend. “Go. Have a fabulous time and make us all incredibly jealous. We’ll see you in a week.”

After another round of goodbyes and poorly-veiled suggestive comments from Morgan and Dave, Aaron and Emily were in their car and on their way to Dulles, suitcases already packed and in the trunk.

It had been her idea. A holiday in Greece to commemorate their first wedding anniversary. There hadn’t been time to plan a honeymoon, their wedding in Dave’s backyard coming together with relative expediency. They had spent the weekend after the ceremony in a hotel, indulging in champagne and room service for 48 hours before returning to work the following Monday.

Neither of them thought much of it after that, swept up in both work and newlywed life. They moved into a new home, a classic Colonial in Arlington with extra bedrooms and a white wrap-around porch, and adopted a dog at Jack’s insistence.

And before either of them had realized it, it had been a year. Aaron had remembered the upcoming date over Saturday breakfast as he cut bacon into little pieces for Jack, which were then promptly fed to Boo who waited patiently under the table next to Jack’s chair. Emily and Aaron shared a look of bemused surprise as they came to the realization that neither of them had planned anything to celebrate the occasion.

“We could take a trip,” Emily suggested casually. “We haven’t been away before, just the two of us.”

He’d been doubtful at first, unsure if they could really manage to get the time away with such short notice. But it was clear how enthused Emily was by the prospect, though she hid it well under masked nonchalance. Though she always insisted she was more than happy to spend her time at home, appreciative of the roots they had cultivated after all the travel and displacement of her past, Aaron knew there was still a part of her that missed that heady thrill of exploring an unfamiliar place for the first time. And truthfully, he could think of little else that he would enjoy more than having his wife all to himself for a few days.

So they settled on Greece, a place new to them both, and, with some luck, managed to clear a full week on both of their calendars.

They had nearly reached the parking lot at Dulles — having already checked in with Jessica, Jack and Boo over the phone — when Emily’s phone pinged with a text message from JJ, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Before Aaron could question her, his phone rang, Chief Strauss’s number on the front screen. Panic flashed across both their faces before he reluctantly answered. Emily could hear brief snippets of the conversation as the pit in her stomach steadily widened.

“...apologize...New York...fourth suicide bomber in three weeks...escalating...need everyone…”

Once he hung up the phone, Aaron took the next exit off the highway, pulling up to the curb once it was safe to do so. They both sat in silence for an extended minute, disappointment heavy in the air. Finally, Emily attempted to break the tension, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get the refundable tickets?”

Aaron let out a weak, sad chuckle and leaned over the center console to kiss her, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” before starting the car up again to head to the airstrip.

When they walked onto the plane, the team was uncharacteristically silent, looking on at their boss and colleague with poorly concealed apology, as though they were personally at fault for this unfortunate turn of events.

It took five days for the case to come to an end, the team finding the next bomber with minutes to spare, leading them to the ringleader of the group orchestrating the attacks. The date of their anniversary came and went, with nothing to mark the day except a quickie in the shower before they left their shared room. Objectively, both Aaron and Emily knew they had made the right decision, compulsory or not. Lives were saved, and the team functioned at their best when they were a complete set.

Still, while Aaron wrapped things up at the precinct after sending Emily back to the hotel, he couldn’t help but feel sorry that the first year of his marriage had passed in such a benign manner. As he drove back to the hotel, watching people shuffle and hustle about their weekend, an inkling of a plan formed and he picked up the phone to call JJ.

He found Emily in their room, her back turned to him as she hunched over the bed in the final stages of packing. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to admire her before asking, "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

She jumped a little, the close of the door too quiet for her to hear him walk in, then raised a brow at him. "Packing? Don't we have to be at the airport in an hour?"

"Change of plans." Aaron sauntered up to his wife, pulling her in by the waist so he could kiss her. "We're leaving tomorrow."

“Since when?”

"Since I decided that you and I deserve a night to ourselves." He chuckled softly at her confused expression, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry we couldn't get our time away. I thought we could spend the night out here instead. Celebrate the best year of my life with my beautiful wife."

She softened in his arms, molding herself to him as she pushed up on her toes and threaded her hands in his hair, kissing him breathless. “What about everyone else?” she asked, mouthing along his jaw, nosing the length of his neck.

The blood promptly rushed south from his head, a familiar occurrence anytime Emily’s hands ran over him as they were doing now. He swallowed, breathing in deeply to ensure he retained some semblance of control. "I told them to leave tonight; we could fly on our own tomorrow. But they offered to stay the night.”

She laughed against his throat, hot and ticklish on his skin, feeling almost giddy by this unforeseen development, “Okay then.” The hands on her hips tightened as she began kissing down to his chest, and she grinned up at him, lightly palming the front of his black slacks. “Are you sure you want to go out? We could just lock ourselves in here for the night.”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully pinching her cheek, “Cheeky, Mrs. Hotchner. But I have a plan and, tempting as you are, you will not sway me from it.” Knowing her go-bag always contained a nicer dress in case their work called for it, he added, “Now, get dressed,” swatting her ass lightly for good measure.

“Aaron, it’s Saturday night in New York City. You realize we’re not getting in anywhere halfway decent,” Emily pointed out while she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Ye of little faith, my dear wife. I told you, I have a plan.” Aaron also rid himself of his jacket and tie, replacing his shirt with a fresh white button-down and rolling up the sleeves. He went to clean himself up in the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his magnificent wife attempting to zip up a one-shoulder red dress. The same dress he’d slid off her shoulders in his bedroom after dinner on their first date. “Is that…”

"Would you believe I didn't plan this?" she grinned, turning her back to him. "Help me?"

Instead of doing as she asked, Aaron nudged the zipper, skating a knuckle up the length of her bare back and planting a kiss at the top of her spine.

“Aaron..." she breathed, tilting her head back against his, "if you don't cut that out, we're not leaving this room." He groaned into her neck, reluctantly admitting she was right, finally zipping her up and smoothing her hair back over her shoulder.

When they emerged outside their hotel ten minutes later onto the bustling streets of Midtown Manhattan, they walked the few blocks to Grand Central Station, just barely catching the subway headed downtown. Despite her initial doubts, Emily’s smile hadn’t left her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Aaron led her by hand out of the subway when they reached their destination, climbing the stairs onto the southwest corner of Washington Square Park. The air was hot and muggy, New York in August, even as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. Music filtered through from the park, mixing with the din of the crowds enjoying the first stage of their evening.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing now?”

“Not yet. Come on, this way.”

They crossed the street, turned the corner, and Aaron finally stopped outside a red awning.

“Pizza?” Emily looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise as she took in the pizzeria.

“Or hot dogs, or Indian, or Greek, Italian, Vietnamese...We can go anywhere you want in the world in the next 10 blocks.”

She beamed up at him, catching onto his plan, and her grin was infectious. “Can we do them all?”

He laughed, “Lead the way.”

They started with pizza at Joe’s — a pepperoni slice for him and a Sicilian slice for her. Then a stuffed pita filled to the brim with fresh falafel, tomatoes, and hummus. A chicken tikka kati roll. And finally a shared plate of chicken and rice drizzled in white sauce from the halal food cart next to the park.

Their hands never strayed far from the other, the blissful anonymity of the city prompting more affectionate displays from both of them. Aaron stood behind her, hands on her hips or around her waist, as they waited in line. Emily ran her fingers through his hair as they sat on barstools, so smushed together from the crowd that she was practically sitting in his lap. They stood on the sidewalk waiting for their food to be prepared, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips moving together in languid kisses as if they had all the time in the world. To any stranger who could be bothered to look their way, they looked like any other couple smitten and blissfully in love, hiding every scar, hurdle, and hardship they had overcome to reach this point. Two figures floating amongst a sea of millions.

“I’m so full,” Emily moaned, clutching her stomach dramatically as they wandered hand-in-hand down Houston St. “I think you’ve killed me.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. We haven’t gotten to dessert.”

Two spoons and one cup of salted chocolate ice cream later, they made it back to the park, still lively as if the night had only just started. The marble archway was lit up, the Empire State Building in the distance peeking through the gap. People sat around the edge of the fountain, dipping their feet into the cool water.

Aaron and Emily walked through the students and artists and skateboarders and tourists, dipping intermittently into their shared dessert absorbing the infectious energy. They reached the other end of the park, stopping for a moment to watch a street performer, and turned down a new street, neither of them wanting the evening to come to an end.

The unmistakable sound of a piano floated out of a bar as two patrons exited, catching Emily by surprise as they walked past. She jerked to a stop, captivated, then tugged Aaron's hand to the door. He followed her lead, descending down a narrow flight of stairs that led into a darkened lounge. Tufted couches and armchairs in jewel-toned velvets lined the walls, dimly lit by rounded art deco sconces. Two bartenders seamlessly crafted elegant cocktails behind a lavish bar that took up the back wall. And in the center, a jazz quartet illuminated by a spotlight as couples swayed around them on a dance floor. Even in the dark, Aaron could see the way Emily's eyes lit up, entranced by this unexpected discovery, and he discreetly asked a waitress if they could be seated.

They nestled into the corner of an empty couch, Aaron's hand resting on Emily's knee as they both sipped their respective cocktails. Truthfully, he spent very little time watching the band, his eyes trained on his wife. He took in every secret smile, every small part of her lips when the melody soared to a peak. She was breathtaking, and she was his, and not for the first time in his life did he wonder how he had ever gotten quite so lucky.

The song shifted into something he recognized, a string of notes from the saxophone eliciting an audible gasp from Emily. He grasped her hand and tugged her up from the chair, smiling at the delight on her face. He pulled her in close, one hand low on her back, his cheek resting against hers, as they began to gently shift amongst the other couples.

After a minute, Emily’s voice came in whispers in his ear, her tongue curling beautifully over the French he couldn’t understand.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie

She pulled back in his arms, her gaze locking on his. A droplet tipped over her lash and onto her cheek. Her love for the man who held her — her husband, hers — bubbled and popped and diffused in her chest, filling her until she felt like she was floating. Aaron brought his hand up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb wiping away the errant drop on her skin with enough tenderness and adoration to warrant a fresh bout of tears.

Emily shakily rose to press her lips to his, tightening her hold of him, just as the song trailed to its conclusion. Applause erupted, but at that moment, the world around them didn’t exist.

“I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I love you.”

--

Song: La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Translation (thank you Google):

When he holds me in his arms He speaks to me softly I see life through rose-colored glasses

He speaks words of love to me Everyday words And that does something to me

He has entered into my heart A piece of happiness The cause of which I know It’s only him for me, and me for him, for life He said that to me, swore it forever

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Dating Bishop Losa Would Include...

A/N: what’s wild is thinking I posted this only to realize it was sitting in my drafts. Showing my all time favorite love some love 😍

Rating: 💙

Check out the others I’ve done so far?: Dating Angel Reyes + Dating Ezekiel Reyes

✦ Bishop is entirely too old -- both physically and mentally --for playing games.

✧ So, if you’re looking for some quick, undefined and slightly messy, drama filled hookups please spare him the headache, and consult with a younger member of the MC

✦ The man’s got a lot of shit on his plate -- so stable, supportive relationships are his favorite cup of tea

✧ Doesn’t believe in beating around the bush, so expect an A class Old School Gentleman, wine and dine — treat you like a queen — from the beginning

✦ When you first get together, it takes Bish a minute to actually get with the program

✧ It’s been a while since he’s had an Old Lady — one who can actually handle sharing him with the MC — so cut him some slack.

✦ He’s not used to sending someone updates about his plans and whereabouts

✧ Hank might of nudged Bishop a few times — “you might wanna let the Old Lady know....”

✦ He’s also not used to someone waiting for him to come home.

✧ Seriously — cut the man some slack — he feels like shit when he finds you half-awake at 2 am that first time

✦ He’s apologetic AF if he misses a date, or has to cancel on you 

✧ You not riding him about it because you know he’s already stretched thin enough

✦ But once he gets with the program, Bishop keeps you in the loop

✧ Not with just his movements, but with the status of the MC as well

✦ Obispo BLEEDS LOYALTY AND TRUST — so as his Old Lady you’re expected to help him bear the weigh

✧ He’s not the type to unload each and every detail — in fact, he’s pretty bad at trying to carry the weight by himself

✦ There are just some aspects of the club he doesn’t think you should be involved in,  so he filters out some things when relaying it to you

✧ It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle it, he just doesn’t want you to worry — because man do you worry. And when you worry, Bishop worries so....

✦ Some nights it weighs on him. Those nights he’s different. His kisses are needy, hands rough

✧ He’ll ask for your opinion. It takes a while for you to feel comfortable enough to offer it, but he quickly learns sometimes you’ll give it without his asking

✦ Regardless, he respects your opinion even if it doesn’t always align with his

✧ Arguments are truly unavoidable — he carries around a lot of pressure and stress -- but Bish is really good at letting you vent 

✦ Sometimes he can’t catch himself, and he yells in the heat of the moment — the quickest to apologize

✧ Let a single tear fall, he’s next to you in a heartbeat

✦ Once your relationship becomes serious the most important question is -- Are you dating? OR Are you married?

✧ YOU’RE BASICALLY MARRIED

✦ You’re literally the only person who can knock him down a couple of notches

✧ And the only one bold enough to try it 

✦ Remember how Bishop doesn’t have time to play games? 

✧ When he introduces you to the MC it’s basically an unspoken promotion ceremony -- get ready to become the live-in mother to his children MC

✦ Bishop knows you do it for him, but also because the boys love you, and you love them.

✧ Tries his best to show how much he appreciates you taking on the responsibility. There are moments when he catches you, a deep kiss following. 

✦ “What’s that for?” You smile. 

✧ His lips soft against your forehead. “I love you.”

✦ Bish worries about the MC way more than he lets on -- WAY FREAKING MORE

✧ He’s pretty sure each day they knock a year off his life -- so he smokes way too much

✦ You tease him about it all the time -- “You smoke too much.”

✧ “Would you rather me strangle one of them?”

✦ Seeing you with the MC, and how easily they gravitate to you and how you help them relax, he’s hooked but let him see you around kids --

✧ All of a sudden, the idea of having kids doesn’t seem impossible

✦ Bishop listens to input from others, but sometimes he’s all about that tough love 

✧ The boys play you two like true freaking parents  

✦ They know when Bish is one of his tough love trips, all they have to do is mention something, and you’ll get Bishop to loosen up

✧ Angel is usually the one sent to butter you up —primarily because he’s the one getting that tough love --  Bishop falls victim to this 99% of the time 

✦ Loves to relax against you after a long day -- head against your chest with your fingers in his hair

✧ He always protests -- because it’s not necessary -- but he’ll  hand his phone over to you so that he can relax.  Even if it is for just an hour.

✦ He might or might not have one of the boys stay behind when he goes on a long club run. You learn to deal with the random check ins during his absence. 

✧ If you’re pregnant, and he’s gone for more than a couple of days, expect one of the guys to stay in the guest room. 

✦ He will literally not budge on this one

✧ You’re literally a goddess on earth -- Bishop worships the ground you walk on 

✦ Protective AF -- bleeds into him being overprotective at times. Primarily because he worries you might get affected by blowback from a club decision

✧ He knows you’re more than capable of handling yourself, but he still worries 

✦ License to carry -- Bish teaches you how to shoot. It gives him peace of mind so you indulge him  

✧ King of whispered compliments as he stops to steal a passing kiss

✦ He thinks it funny when guys try and flirt with you -- primarily because they don’t realize you’ll probably eat them alive. 

✧ As long as you’re smiling he’s cool, but let someone get handsy or not shut down their advances and Bishop’s stepping in

✦ Would literally kill someone with his bare hands if they hurt you 

✧ Don’t think that “harmless” flirting will be forgotten. Bishop’s got patience for days. You can’t tease him into cracking first so his payback is torture

✦ Bish is a natural born flirt -- homeboy is dripping in that natural born charisma that can diffuse most situations -- and the flirting does not stop once you start dating

✧ Pretty sure your permanent seat is his lap. He’ll drag you onto his lap, arm around your waist no matter what he’s doing

✦ This man is made of kisses for days. Whether it be a quick kiss to your cheek, forehead, or fingers. Or a stolen moment away from the club, kisses improve his mood 100000% 

✧ Typically seen with his arm draped around your shoulder, lips pressed against your temple or cheek

✦ When he feels guilty, for being too busy, he’s extra romantic. He’ll make dinner, pop up unannounced at your job when he’s got time to spare 

✧ "What do you want, Obispo?”

✦ “Just making sure you don’t run off on me,” he chuckles.

✧ You know those stories you read about where someone’s husband gave his wife flowers religiously every single week -- that’s some Obispo Losa type of shit

✦ May be a gentleman, but definitely rough in the bedroom -- 

✧ And in Templo -- you’ve lost count the number of times he’s taken you over that table or had you down on your knees

✦ Quickies. He’s a busy man, if he’s got time he’s not going to object to you pulling him away

✧ If you’re going to “accidentally” send a needy text while he’s working or you woke up thinking you’re gonna be sassy -- please know he’ll call you on your shit

✦ He has no problem having the room cleared & one of the guys relaying that “....he wants to see you.”

✧ His patience will outlast yours any day -- so get mouthy and try and cause a scene if you want --

✦ Most def leaves a kiss against the back of your hand every time he leaves you

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[chudleycanonficfest]

Four Little Sips

Day 28, Post #2

Title: Four Little Sips

Author: JohnMcHacker

Pairings: Harry/Bill/Charlie (platonic), Harry/Ginny (romantic), Gryffindor Quidditch Team (platonic), Fred/George/Ron (platonic), Ron/Hermione (romantic)

Prompt: In Vino Veritas

Rating: PG

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, Referenced death, Language

Note to admin: Thanks for organising, this is my first time submitting, sorry if I'm late or if it doesn't meet requirements. I have also posted to the AO3 collection.

* * *

You see, Harry had never really had anyone just a few years older to look up to. Alright, there was Hermione, but they were classmates and best friends and at roughly the same place in life, it wasn’t the same.

That summer of 1998, in the wake of all that pain and death and sorrow, the Weasleys pulled together and pulled him in with them. On a few occasions, this meant having a few drinks with Bill and Charlie, in various nondescript Muggle pubs in the vicinity of Ottery St Catchpole.

“Just because Kingsley cut you some slack doesn’t mean you have to take the offer,” said Charlie. “You’ve spent your whole life fighting Voldemort, one way or anoher. You deserve to take a break. Live a little. Or else, what have you been fighting for?”

Harry thought of several memorable sunlit days, and found he couldn’t really disagree.

“Or at the very least, know why you’re putting your life on the line, once again,” said Bill. “Well, alright, you were the Chosen One, you had your job to do then. But now that that’s over, you ought to think twice why you’re risking your neck on your own account.”

“Well, I think I’d be good at it,” said Harry. “And someone has to do it. The Aurors are short-handed and too many of Voldemort’s thugs are still out there.”

Bill shook his head, munching a handful of chips. “That’s not good enough. Merlin knows I’d love a crack at the bastards myself. But your neck’s not just your own now, Harry. Ginny has a say too. That’s part of what being together means.”

“Muggle birds ain’t bad,” said Charlie, nodding at a trio of pretty college-age girls gathered round a table across the pub. They caught him watching, giggled, and winked in reply. “Don’t limit yourself to witches. But if you do, don’t mess ‘em around, play fair, and come clean as soon as you can.”

“The most important part of my relationship with Fleur is trust,” said Bill. “We don’t have secrets, and she trusts that I won’t suddenly run off hunting Death Eaters or dragons or Hor... whatever. And I trust her not to do the same.”

“Family’s what it comes down to,” said Charlie, draining his glass.

“Family,” nodded Bill. “Your first responsibility.”

“My shout,” said Harry, because that was something else they had taught him was right, to stand his round, and he went to the bar to get the drinks. When he returned, they had moved on to other important matters.

“Free advice, Potter, take it or leave it,” said Charlie, tapping the side of his nose, “women; you’ll never go wrong if you please ‘em first, know what I mean?”

“Oi! That’s our sister you’re talking about!” snapped Bill, trying not to laugh.

“So what? She’s got fi... four of you looking out for her. Maybe I just want to see fair play.” Charlie winked at Harry. “Let me tell you about what I call ‘wandless magic’, and trust me, it is magic.”

“That’s it, you’re done, Perce is my new number two, it’s you that Mum and Dad should disown...”

“There’s more where that came from, Harry. You want to know how to beat Ron at chess? He can’t play gambits worth a damn. Stick with me, I’ll show you something called a Smith-Morra, aye?”

Advice, experience, honour, laughter. Maybe this was what it was like to have older brothers, thought Harry. It filled a hole in him he never even knew he had.

* * *

Oliver would never have allowed it, but Angelina Johnson was a more fun-loving kind of Quidditch Captain. She passed the word around quietly, and so the five Gryffindor players above the age of sixteen met in the changing rooms fifteen minutes before Potter and the younger Weasley were due to arrive. Of course it was the Twins who’d acquired the goods, however they managed it. Fred produced the bottle of Ogden’s from somewhere under his robes with a flourish, and George grinned toothily as he conjured shot glasses from thin air.

“Alright, I know it was my idea, but just the one, got it?” warned Angelina, pouring the drinks herself.

“Aye aye, Captain,” said Fred. George sketched a sloppy salute her way.

Katie Bell was practically trembling with excitement and nerves. “Oooh, this’ll be my first drink ever,” she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid to catch the light. “Are you sure we won’t get caught?” she asked, looking around as if expecting McGonagall to burst out of a locker at any time.

“Course we can’t be sure,” said Alicia Spinnet. “That’s part of the fun!”

Angelina looked round at each of them, and shouted “For the Cup!”

“FOR THE CUP!” they chorused, and knocked back the Firewhiskey.

Two years later, the three Chasers were standing at the bar of the Hog’s Head, but they had Oliver back now, and Angelina knew somehow that that was important, they were going to go to Hogwarts and find Fred and George and Harry and reunite the whole Team, and it meant she had to do this. She leaned over the counter, rummaged through the grimy bottles and found what she was looking for.

“You’re mad!” said Oliver incredulously.

“Probably,” said Alicia cheerfully, “but we did this every match and still won the Cup, didn’t we? Sixth-years and above only, of course, we had standards,” she said, catching Oliver’s outraged look.

“Don’t tell me you’re going into a real battle and don’t want a drink, Oliver,” said Angelina calmly as she poured, and that was that.

Alicia and Katie and Oliver looked at her expectantly. Angelina searched for the words, and found there was really only one thing suited to the occasion. “Fuck Voldemort.”

“FUCK VOLDEMORT!”

And they did.

But oh God, the price they paid.

  * * *

The Leaky was too well-known so they usually frequented a tiny hole-in-the-wall further down the street. The clientele was younger and the enchanted jukebox played muggle hits as well as the Weird Sisters, Mega Maggots, and the Bent Banshees, and that was perfect for the Twins. Perhaps half the entire current range of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had first been dreamed up in this pub.

“Alright, alright, what about this, George? Prank greeting cards.”

“You’re crazy, Fred.”

“Cards that won’t stop singing. Howler cards. Exploding confetti cards. Exploding firework cards!”

George finished his beer and signalled to the barman for another. The barman hesitated, then poured as George slapped a handful of Sickles on the counter. “Confetti yes, fireworks, I dunno,” said George. “Cheers, Fred.”

“It’s brilliant I tell you. Mud in your eye,” said his twin brother, and they drank. Then, quietly, Fred asked: “How’s the family?”

“Same old. They’re doing well. You should see the sprogs, it’s a hoot,” snickered George. “Ron and Gin and Harry and good ol’ Hermione, sneaking around trying not to get caught shagging like rabbits. God, the sights I’ve walked in on...”

Fred chortled along with George, and he finished the pint. The bell over the door jingled and new customers came in, but the twins barely glanced that way.

“Speaking of which. About her... you should do something about it, George,” said Fred kindly. “I see all the signs and I know you do too. She’s waiting on you. Go be a gentleman, Georgey-boy, go on.”

George sighed. “Not you too. Look, I get enough of this crap from Bill and Charlie, alright?”

“You two need each other. Besides, it’s too quiet around the flat.”

All at once, George’s face crumpled. “You don’t get to say that. Not you. Not you! YOU don’t say that!”

Fred said nothing, he only smiled, and walked away. George turned his head quickly to follow him, but as always, Fred slid out the corner of his eye and was g...

And then it was another Weasley brother standing in front of him.

This time, it was Ron they’d sent. Good old Ron, lanky and solid and biting his lip in sympathy as he came to find his older brother sitting alone at the bar hunched over a half-empty glass. On the counter beside him was one untouched full pint, the frothy head long since evaporated.

“Come on, George,” said Ron gently. “There, I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

She was a girl made of facts and reason.

That was just the way she was wired.

“Dutch courage,” she said to herself, eyeing the glass of probably cheap plonk as if it was poison. Which technically it was.

“What’s that?” asked Ginny.

“Dutch courage,” she repeated. “It’s a muggle term, meaning the confidence gained from drinking alcohol, according to the Cambridge English Dictionary. Although,” she amended, “it’s derogatory to Dutch people and we probably shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case I meet anyone from Orange Tulip Land,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes. “You certainly don’t need that sort of thing, Hermione, you’re one of the bravest people I know!”

Probably just hyperbole, thought Hermione, as that would be quite something, given that Ginny hung around with Aurors and Quidditch players and her boyfriend Harry Potter, or ‘His Excellency Most Spiffing Chosen Boy Who Lived To Kick Voldemort’s Arse’ as George called him. She picked up the glass, sipped it carefully, decided she quite liked the taste of Chateau Diagon Alley or whatever this was, and had a bigger swig.

Here’s a fun fact: it takes 6 minutes for the brain to react to alcohol.

Six minutes later, she didn’t think she felt any different. Warmer perhaps, but the New Year party was in full swing and Hermione thought maybe it was just the ambient temperature rising from all the people circulating, moving, dancing, talking, laughing.

Fun fact: drinking is ‘fun’ because alcohol lessens tension, eases social interaction, and reduces inhibitions.

Hermione sat in her corner and nursed her glass and knew she wasn’t really a social drinker, or any kind of drinker, or even at all ‘sociable’ to begin with. She envied how effortlessly Ginny and Bill and Parvati and everyone else were visibly enjoying themselves; Hermione would honestly prefer a nice book, a pot of peppermint tea, and perhaps with the company of...

Breathless from joking with Aurors and Obliviators and Patrolwizards and friends, Ron flung himself down beside her and threw an arm around her, and Hermione’s stomach fluttered pleasantly. “Alright there, Hermione?” He followed her gaze towards the wineglass. “Not poisoned, is it? Cause that’s no fun, believe me.”

Fact: I want to say I...

“That’s not funny, Ron, you could’ve died,” chided Hermione, although she couldn’t help giggling. “No, I just... it’s Dutch courage.”

“What’s that?” Hermione told him about English soldiers and gin and bravery, and the way he looked at her as he listened made her feel warm all over. “Nice. You know everything, Hermione,” Ron said admiringly.

“Not everything,” said Hermione wistfully. “I don’t know how to have fun at parties. Well, maybe that’s one more thing I do know now,” she joked lamely.

Fact: I...

Ron laughed at her probably atrocious attempt at humour, and said “Rubbish party anyway. Too many plonkers just wanting to be seen with heroes like Harry and Neville” (characteristically, Ron excluded himself from that category, Hermione observed) “and they’re only here because Kingsley said they absolutely had to be. I’d much rather have a quiet night in at home with you, Crookshanks, a nice fire, maybe a...”

No, I don’t know everything, thought Hermione. But I know this fact. “I love you, Ron Weasley.” And she grabbed him and snogged the hell out of him, ignoring the catcalls and cheers that rose all around.

Was it really the Dutch stuff, or was it all her own self, after all?

To be continued...

[pynkhues]

.... any succession fic recs? 👀

Yes!! I haven't read a lot for it yet, but some of the stuff I've read has been staggeringly good. I'm generally more into gen fic in this particular fandom, but have enjoyed some Stewy x Kendall, Gerri x Roman and Naomi x Tabitha too.

A few recs under the cut!

“I wanted to get out. From under all this. Take the money and run.”

Kendall tells Stewy even though he knows he’ll never get it, not like Naomi does. He’ll never understand the crush of it, the heart-stopping head-fucking fear of failing a tyrant. Kendall’s been ignoring the shape of it for a long time, putting pieces of it together in the back of his mind in total darkness like a blindfolded man. It doesn’t matter that one day his dad will die. It doesn’t matter about the money or the hostile takeover or the stolen files or any of it. There’s no running. Kendall’s Logan Roy lives inside his head.

Stewy laughs. Stewy laughs for a long time.

“There is no out, Ken, what the fuck are you talking about? You were born this and you’ll die this. You are what you are, and what you are is a fucking Roy.”

Kendall hates him, for a moment. Lightning-strike furious. What the fuck does he know about any of it, about his dad’s swinging dinner plate-sized hands, about getting 24% name recognition in reliable international polling, about puking every time you think about a car swerving off the road in the rain. About finding out that you can do something unthinkably, unimaginably terrible, and it doesn’t matter to anyone you know but you. There’s a scar on his arm that no one else who hasn’t already been told how it got there can ever know about, and he’s sick of it, and it’s not fair. He hates Stewy for a moment because Stewy’s right.

“I wanted to do the right thing, Stewy, for once in my fucking life.”

Stewy laughs again, more briefly, and the predator flash of his eyes in the neon of the motel sign is a torture all its own.

‘There is no right and wrong, Ken. How the fuck do you not know that yet? Not for people like you. Like us. There’s shit you get caught doing and there’s shit you don’t.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You really, really fucking don’t,” says Ken, and fuck, there it is. The road less travelled, that only he has ever driven on. The path he’s down where Stewy can’t follow. That place beyond Stewy Hosseini where he never thought he could go.

“You’re not telling me something, and when I find out what that is, and I will find out what it is, Kendall, don’t you think I won’t, so I am warning you that when I do find out I am going to be righteously fucking pissed,” says Stewy, and if Kendall thought those were a predator’s eyes before—

“Yeah, you will,” says Kendall, because he knows exactly how perceptive Stewy is. Exactly how weak he is. Exactly, precisely what both of them are.

And treat this night like it’ll happen again by postcardmystery. 8k words. Kendall x Stewy. Post s2. (CW: internalised homophobia, some homophobic language)

I tried to pick a shorter excerpt, but I literally couldn’t, this fic is so. good. The voices are pitch perfect, and it’s got this incredible build to it overall that goes back and forth between time and point of views and just rips your heart out. The premise itself is pretty simple – after the press conference at the end of 2.10, Kendall calls Stewy, and they drive through rural America while Kendall has a breakdown, and it’s just - - unspeakably good. I love it so so so much, I have no words.

r/roysucks Connor’s gf just posted on Instagram (instagram.com) submitted two months ago by webbedscrum_2279 23 comments share save hide report

[–] DM_ME_SAMESMAIL 40 points two months ago I too like to escape to my yacht in the Mediterranean when my family and I are on trial for covering up rape and murder. permalink embed save report reply

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? By amleth 3k words. Gen fic. Post s2.

And now for something completely different – epistolary fic which is just reddit news threads of the Roy family drama. I love an epistolary fic and this is just totally charming, and made me laugh a lot out loud.

“You’re quiet,” she observes. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah, well, the Turks beat it out of me. Gave you a run for their money.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So what is this? Whips and chains? Are we doing the whole boat-sex thing? I heard Shiv and Tom are looking for a third —“

Gerri finds what she’s looking for: a black leather binder. She drops it on the bed and begins paging through it, and Roman cranes his neck enough to recognize that it’s just full of documents, not like, dick pics. “I’ve given some thought to what you proposed a few weeks ago, and I agree that we should make things official in some way,” she says, and he blinks.

“Uh,” he says. “Which — what part of it?”

“Take a look.”

Gerri closes the folio and hands it over. It’s deceptively heavy, and the print on these pages is way too fucking fine, he thinks, paging through it. “Is this some kind of, like, Fifty Shades of Roy sex contract? Because it’s not that I’m not into it, but I think there’s a strong argument for going paperless —”

“Strictly speaking, this isn’t legally binding,” Gerri says. “Just something I threw together with regard to our business arrangement going forward. But with no respect to the family — the past few weeks have really illustrated that no one should take anyone at their word right now. Give me a little more than your word.”

Evacuation strategies for a yacht on fire by devourthemoon. 11k words. Gerri x Roman. Post s2. Explicit.

After the events of s2, Roman and Gerri fake being married as a professional alliance, only, y’know, maybe it’s not so fake. This fic is just so, so much fun, and messy in the best possible way. The author nails all the character voices, and the sex scenes are just the right amount of hot and ridiculous, and I just love it all a lot too.

Kendall estimates it will take an hour for the first articles to go up. Some rapid-fire blog without oversight—the New York Post, maybe, or wherever those Vaulter hippies have skulked off to—will slap a catchy headline on it and report his words verbatim. Give or take a gif of his face when he switches to script number two. New York Times, Washington Post, AP, those fuckers take longer. They like to bleed the story like Middle Ages plague doctors for its marrow, fact-check and add context and analysis and as many backlinks as their servers can handle. Still, a couple of hours, and his face will be plastered on every major news outlet. His voice will play over the nightly talk shows. He’ll trend on Twitter. A few more days, and he’ll be the star of analysis segments, podcasts, weekly briefings. Maybe, fuck it, maybe he’ll trend on Twitter again.

It’s been years since Kendall read Shakespeare. But that shit sticks with you, gets under your skin and emerges when you least expect it, like eczema or Keynesian economics. He knows how the media will spin this. Kendall Roy Attacks CEO Logan for Years of Corruption. Prodigal Son Disrupts Family Legacy to Restore Credibility. That’s how Hamlet ends, right? And Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, even Titus fucking Andronicus. The spilled blood sinks into the ground, the seedlings sprout forth from the soil, and a new castle is built on the bones. Order out of chaos, or at least close enough an approximation that the tabloids will buy it.

Legacy for profit by owlinaminor Post-2.10. Kendall Roy. Kendall through Shakespeare analogies – just - - ooooof. It's a beautiful, lyrical character study that weaves through Roy family history and teases at a future none of them are even sure they want. It's gorgeous writing.

For the next few days Shiv would have to keep the pressure on Kira like an open wound because there were other women, victims that Nate’s people were going to find one by one as soon as that phone call disconnected. Mo was her father’s friend, good friend, for a long, long time. Nate and Gil, Sandy and Stewy, too many sharks in the water and the share price probably dipped to a new low but she would never check a stock ticker. Her husband’s nerves fraying at the edges on national television. She had promised a woman she’d never met before that she would kill roughly one third of the top male executives of her family’s company. Her company.

The last look Rhea gave her before she shut the car door was concern close to fear—no longer the same woman who heard their pitch in the safe room, who laughed with her at Argestes. Rhea had only looked into the abyss; she got cold feet and she didn’t even know what it’s like to grow up in it.

Her family’s company is hers, will be hers. Even from a whale fall, new life would spring.

Feed his flesh to wayward daughters by reogulus. 2k words. Shiv Roy. Set during 2.09.

This entire fic is set around Shiv bribing Kira not to testify, and god, it is so good. It’s bleak and rough, and really hones in on the complex ground Shiv walks as a character. It's another brilliant study of what it takes to be a Roy, and the way they make the awful choices in order to fulfill this legacy that they don't even know they want.

Kendall sets down his fork. “So. Tell me. Is it everything you wanted? Is it what you thought it would be?”

Roman stills. He never does that. He’s constantly a menace in motion, slouching and fidgeting, worse even than Kendall at his amphetamine peak. “What? The view from the tippy-tippy-top?”

“His regard.” Kendall wipes his mouth with the edge of the white cloth napkin. It comes away pink from the steak. “Dad. He’s all yours now.”

Roman still hasn’t moved. Finally, he lurches, like corroded machinery come uncertainly to life. “Yeah, man. It’s fucking tight as hell. I love every beautiful daddy and me moment I was a good enough little boy to earn.” He snorts. “Fuck you.” His face goes curiously slack then, like something Kendall’s own face would do. An intermission in the performance, an energy cut. Something genuine finding its way to the surface. “Why don’t you tell me. When you got everything you wanted, how the fuck did that make you feel?”

Nauseous, is the first word that springs to mind. Sick. Scared. I’ve never had everything I wanted, there’s that. I’ve never once had a single fucking thing I wanted. There’s that, too.

Interim leadership by arbitrarily 2k words. Roman + Kendall. Post s2.

I love Roman and Kendall scenes generally, but this one which features Kendall and Roman meeting for the first time a few months after the press conference in 2.10 is just a bit magic. The push pull dynamic that's just inherent to them mixed with the genuine affection and brotherly love is really special, and arbitrarily embraces both in equal measure. It's a great little fic.

There are lots more of course, and I'd also recommend checking out other works by these authors, but I hope this is a good place to start! :-)