#AND HAVE DEFINITELY AT LEAST ONCE MENTIONED U TO MY SISTER AND SAID SOMETHING GOOD ABOUT U OR

[strawberryfaced]

btw im so emotional about everything in theworld tongiht. i love u guys merry chrissmas. better. open that chimney becauss imcoming down it and. hugging u. or if u don’t like that giving u a very loving high five

[princelance]

a movie........

time for a rant that has been a looong time coming because

the FUCK??? NOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEASE NO NO NO PLEASE GOD IF YOU'RE OUT THERE NEVER LET THIS MOVIE SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY NEVER EVEN MENTION THAT SHOW EVER AGAIN IN MY PRESENCE it should fucking DIE and stay DEAD

the WORST fandom i've ever come across/been part of. everyone was so fucking braindead. god the bullying here was So Bad. vld fandom was the epitome of 'you can't enjoy what you like'. and the bullies were like, some of the most popular blogs here. the content creators (among others ofc) here were NASTY. the people making decent art were so fucking rude to almost anyone that didn't bow down to them and agree with their views on the show, sitting on their high horse like they were fucking gods or something when they were like, 17 or something. mind u voltron was a show about ugly transformers lions and a bunch of kids in space meant for 7 YEAR OLDS. like stfu it's not deep, it's not important. i get that this is the internet i really do but apparently everyone was a pedo and homophobic and racist and needed to be cancelled because they weren't pure angels. i hope the people who liked the show, both teens and adults alike, have grown up and learnt what those words actually mean and why you shouldn't just casually throw them around. i hated you all. u had to be so careful about what you said on here, it was like north korea or something. i remember how kids got bullied into deleting their harmless fanfics, the fucking voice actors got bullied on a daily basis, it was BAD. i remember i got hate for having shiro as my icon and the background was the bi flag colours. I AM BI. also, so what if i had headcanoned shiro as bi, you couldn't have stopped me or anyone else from thinking that, and also IT WOULD NOT HAVE MATTERED, HE'S FICTIONAL, HE'S JUST LINES AND PIXELS. i know this is going to shatter some of your worlds (or at least would have back then), but a random ass nobody on tumblr headcanoning a character as bi when said character is "actually" straight/gay/whatever is NOT going to affect irl queer people in any way, it does NOT have real life consequences. who gives a fuck. since when has the fandom given a shit about canon anyway? fuck you.

okay, i've been bitching about the fandom enough (no i haven't, there's no way you can ever bitch about the vld fandom enough). what about the actual show? well. once again it's meant for 7 year olds. who cares if it was good or not. i've seen seasons 1–6. i liked season 1, didn't really like anything after that since the show seemed to change so much. the first season kind of has a different vibe completely? idk how to explain it, it just kind of feels like the actual show and then the rest was just a long fanfic by someone who was in love with keith's character. but since i was watching the show with my sister who was 10 at the time, it was fine, otherwise i wouldn't have kept watching after seeing season 2 i don't think.

here are a few negative things about the show imo:

making keith the main character out of nowhere after s1 (where he definitely wasn't the main focus) was so dumb. god the showrunners loved keith sooo much, it was so stupid. keith was nooot a leader. whatever.

making keith the black paladin was also so fucking stupid my god. and yes, everyone here wanting LANCE to become the black paladin just because he was the fandom favourite (don't get me wrong, he was my fave too) was so fucking braindead too honestly. shiro or allura. no one else made any sense.

canon allurance SUUUCKED. like holy shit that was so bad and horribly written, even lotor and allura had a better love story and had waaay more chemistry (and their relationship ended badly, rightfully so). and NO klance was never ever ever going to be canon, you were so delusional. like lmaooo did we even watch the same show? i just really enjoyed their dynamic and that's why i shipped them together, whatever. but yeah, like i said the bullying here was disgusting and everyone was cancelled, great, klance seemed to be the only thing you were allowed to like so in that sense i was lucky.

everything they did with allura in the later seasons............ you know what? i'm not even going to start. because wtfffffffff, as a storyteller myself i ?????? what in the world were they thinking. but yeah whatever it does not matter.

the point of this post is that EW EW EWWWW FUCK THAT SHOW AND FUCK YOU, if you were in the voltron fandom in 2017/2018 i personally hate you

[fangaminghell]

10, 19, 34 and 50 for Leo, Blair and Asra :3

:3!

Spoilers ahead for pokemon desolation!!!! Especially E6!!!!!!!!!!

10. Do they have any regrets?

Leo: Many. So many. Just look at the Darkai quest and that'll just show you how much regret and guilt he has.

If I had to give one example at the top of my head, not telling Cain how he felt when in the Void is something he regrets. It all worked out, but at the time, not saying anything and losing Cain was something that would haunt him.

Blair: I really need to replay Reborn once the community release is out. I feel like Blair needs some cleaning up character wise, or rather I just need to be refreshed on who xe are. That being said, I think not saving Suraya from Gardevoirs blast is one regret xe have, as her body gaurd. Another, bigger regret, was not being able to save Lilith. For granted, not saving Lilith spared her from Sigmund, something xe would not wish on anyone. But not being with xyr sister for 10 years is something that weighs on xem slot.

Asra: Hmmmmmmm. I think letting Scarlet get that far into her mindset before joining Crescent is something they regret. Maybe if they said something, she wouldn't have joined. Things are more than fine now, but I can see Asra wishing they've done more. Everything with Tristan I feel is made of regret and guilt.

19. How easy is it to become their friend?

Leo of the three arguably the most social lol. He likes being around people, for the most part! Though making friends depends on if you vibe with him and he vibes with you. I like to think his pathetic cat boyisms make him hard to resist though.

Asra isn't exactly shy by any means. They just prefer the quiet. That being said, they have the charisma to carry themselves in pleasant conversations. They can be aloof at times, and it could take a while for them to fully open up outside of pleasantries, but I like to think they are generally pretty friendly. Wait. I almost forgot. They can be pretty awkward when talking to people sometimes. They usually have some level of control within a conversation, but there's some topic that have them stumped and just don't know what to say ( for example: hobbies).

Blair is ice cold lol. They have trust issues and lots of trauma to boot, so letting people in is kinda a no go for xem. That doesn't mean you can't worm your way into their heart - look at Suraya n Leo. But yeah, they are very introverted, much preferring to just look on in the sidelines, being cold to anyone that comes close....unless your friends or family. Post game Blair is a bit more softer, or at least trying to be, given we were given the opportunity to study and become a pokemon professor like xe dreamed to be. Xe are still pretty cold, but try to be nicer ( Blake tests xyr patience every day ). Way into the future, being a pokemon professor definitely made them much more approachable! Instead of the freezing cold xe would give off, Blair is more of a quiet chill, but nothing too intense. Overall pretty friendly, and good with beginner trainers. Still pretty distant to those they don't know, so friendship is still gonna be something you with for.

34. How well do they deal with grief?

WOOH BOY. Bad. All of them I think.

Leo literally had a psychic breakdown when Taka died. And the results of that basically pushing people away who are worried for him. Ame and Kiki's death also just increases his guilt about everything, which again, makes him believe that people are safer at a distance. Leo is...very mentally unwell during the post game, even despite finally coming to terms with himself. Richard doesn't help at all in the slightest.

God, I didn't even mention how Leo thought Suraya, Cain and so many others were dead. That devastated him. So bad.

Blair whole life is filled with the grief over xyr family, xyr childhood, xyr dreams. The results was xem becoming a shell of a person in the orphanage, and become an ice cold assassin as an adult. I don't think they properly grieved until the post game, really. They just kept moving forward without even bothering to examine xyr emotions. Xe didn't want to.

Asra lost Tristan, a valued friend, someone who they hoped to help just like the rest of the dreamscape. Dare I say, they loved him ( platonically, romantically? Shrugs). So for Tristan to disappear in their arms, cursing Darkai, it was. So much. They didn't exactly have time to really. Grieve. Had to keep moving. But when they find out that they themselves are going to die? It all just hits them. To grieve a life that hasn't been lost yet - to grieve your life, that hasn't been lost yet. It's too much. It's all too much.

50. What is your favorite thing about them?

Leo is my favorite little pathetic gay catboy rat man. There's more to this title I just forgot lmao. This is very cruel to say but I love exploring how. Not okay he is. His guilt and shame and self hatred - all terrible, but I like exploring how that makes him do things, ya know? Especially when I know things for him get better.

Blair, I always loved xyr arc of letting people in again. And Bun Bun. Bun Bun is very important to xyr arc and I love them both. I hope to reexamine xem again when replaying reborn! Also it would be a crime if I didn't mention xyr long hair braid.

I always loved how Asra is goth lol. A plus sized goth. A plus sized goth that has a parasol that hides a sword. In general I just love their vibe. I try to make them seem cool and mysterious, but still approachable. They are calm and collected, and polite. But even with all that, they have their own worries that they try to keep to themselves. I really like Asra lol.

[collecting-stories]

Jolly Rancher - JJ Maybank

Request: Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day

A/N: I did moderate research for this because the only person I actually know with diabetes is a cousin I don’t speak to. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In hindsight, taking the Druthers out in the bay for a party after sunset wasn’t exactly the best idea you and Sarah had ever come up with. And yeah, technically, taking the boat out would have been totally fine and acceptable but none of you had considered bringing anything but alcohol with you. Six pogues (two honorary) on a yacht in the middle of the bay with just alcohol and weed. It was a bad combination in any version of the world but especially in this one, where you’d been pregaming white claw because you were finally, finally, gonna tell JJ how you felt about him.

The crush had been a saga ongoing since you had first discovered JJ Maybank, which coincided with discovering that boys, while terrible, were incredibly attractive. And sometimes...not too terrible. John B had started working for your family the summer before highschool and at the same time JJ started to pop up. Around the Druthers when John B was cleaning the boat, in a neighbor’s yard mowing the grass or cleaning the pool. And then at the Island Club. By then you’d started hanging out with Kiara and her friends and JJ wasn’t just some cute guy who was friends with John B.  

“Honey,” Kiara laughed, reaching for the can of Naturdays in your hand, ��I think you need to slow down.”  

“I’m fine.” You promised, knee jerking rapidly as you gulped the rest of the drink down before Kiara could take it from you.  

You weren’t a heavy drinker. The last time you’d gotten drunk was in ninth grade, at a house party on the cut with Kiara. You’d guzzled down one too many Pabst trying to act cool in front of JJ and had ended up in the hospital in diabetic shock. Once everyone was sure you weren’t going to die, your father had laid into you about how irresponsible you were and how you had acted like a child. It was embarrassing, mostly because you were still saddled to a hospital bed and your friends were standing in the hallway, well within ear shot of Ward.  

After that, you stayed away from anything more than two drinks at a party and you always kept your insulin with you. Except, apparently, for tonight. You’d gotten yourself worked up over confessing your feelings to JJ and the possibility of rejection that you were well on the way to drunk. And your insulin was in your backpack, in Rafe’s truck.  

“You’re not fine.” Kiara laughed, “you’re like, buzzing.”

“Buzzing,” you offered her a dopey smile as you leaned forward, whirling your pointer finger around as you made buzzing noises and tried to poke her.  

“What the hell?” She swatted your hand away, “are you sure you’re okay?”

The commotion was enough to get Sarah’s attention and she turned away from John B to look over at the two of you. “You’re like vibrating babe,” Sarah said, “you’re really jittery.”

“Fine, I’m fine...I’m all good.” You promised, bracing your hand on Sarah’s shoulder as you went to stand up. You missed your footing, tripping over the air and hitting the deck before either Kiara or Sarah could catch you.  

“Oh my god!” Kiara got down on her knees next to you and helped you sit up, leaning partially against her. She pushed your shirt up so that she could check your pump and noticed realized it had been going off. “Hey, do you have like...something to boost her blood sugar? I think it’s dropping really low, I can’t really read this?”

“It’s definitely low.” You replied, hands shaking as you checked your pump, “yeah...too much...too much alcohol.”

“Where’s your insulin?” Sarah asked, crouching down so she could try to meet your eyes, “hey, look at me, where’s your insulin?”  

You hummed, a little too long before finally looking at Sarah, “uh, Rafe’s...shit, Rafe’s truck.”

“Are you kidding me? Fuck!” Sarah cursed, getting up to grab her phone so she could call him, “John B, can you take us back?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, heading for the ladder.  

“Here!” JJ pushed through Pope and Kiara, spilling the contents of his backpack onto the deck beside you. Amongst a change of clothes, some pilfered pens, his wallet, house keys, weed, a stick of deodorant, and a travel toothbrush, was a bag of jolly ranchers. He grabbed a green one out and unwrapped it, holding it out to you, “here, it’ll make you feel better.”

“You have a bag of jolly ranchers in your backpack?” Kiara asked incredulously.

“Of course,” JJ replied, “if her sugar drops she said one jolly rancher usually does the trick.”  

It was a stupid thing to smile about, especially since you were currently using Kiara to hold yourself up and sucking on green apple jolly rancher, but you couldn’t help it. You had mentioned that ages ago, the first time you went out with the pogues after your drunken night turned ER visit, as you sat on the dock next to JJ. You had doubted he’d even cared and been embarrassed afterward for just rambling on about yourself but he remembered.

“You remembered,” you said as JJ sat beside you, letting you lean on his shoulder as the yacht headed back to the dock.  

Sarah had gotten a hold of Rafe quicker than she expected. He was already talking when he answered the phone, telling her that he was on the way back from Topper’s. According to Rafe he turned his truck immediately, that was what he told you later, when you were feeling more like yourself again. That he’d realized your backpack was still sitting on the passenger seat and he did a u-turn right there in the middle of the street. You weren’t sure that was totally true, your older brother’s pension for dramatics and your family’s obsession with treating you like a baby.  

Usually, it felt stifling but right now you were feeling pretty shitty about yourself. The jolly rancher did exactly what it was supposed to, boosting your blood sugar enough that you were beginning to feel better.  

“What were thinking?” Rafe called the minute he boarded the Druthers, “you know alcohol makes your blood sugar drop!”

“I know, I know!” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You’d moved from the floor to the couch, JJ leaving your side the minute your brother ran up the jetty. “I’m not a kid Rafe,” you muttered, grabbing your backpack from him.

“Really? Cause you left your bag in my truck and you’re out here drinking your ass off.” He snapped.  

“She’s okay,” Sarah urged.

“What if she wasn’t?”

“I am! And I’m right here!” You huffed, “Rafe, thank you and I know you were worried but I’m okay.”  

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to be dad here...but you can’t take risks like that, you know better.”  

“I’m fine!” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and pushed passed Rafe, climbing down the ladder to the jetty. You’d apologize later, for now you were irritable and embarrassed and you just wanted to be back in your room, locked in where no one could see you and remind you how horrible this entire night was. The only decent thing that had happened was JJ but the more you let yourself psychoanalyze everything that happened the more you were positive that the pogues just saw you as a kid too. Like you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you hadn’t been for the last ten years, since you were diagnosed.  

The Druthers said docked but you couldn’t tell from your bedroom window if everyone had gone home or if they were still hanging out and partying. You thought about texting Sarah but she would just tell you to come back down to the dock and stop pouting in your bedroom. You did your usual checks, to make sure your blood sugar had gone back up, and changed into comfier clothes. Even scrubbing off your makeup...you’d let this shitty feeling die before you saw anyone again.  

Or at least, that was the plan. As you were sitting in bed though, a knock at your window startled you. Not just a tap but a full-on knock. You climbed out of bed and went to the window, laughing when you saw JJ standing on the small balcony off your room.  

“What are you doing here?” You mouthed, reaching for the lock so you could open the window.

He pointed to his ear and then shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes as you pushed the window open and sat on the sill, “What are you doing here JJ?” You were trying your best to calm your racing heart, the last thing you needed was to go into cardiac arrest in front of him too.

“You left the party.”

“Not exactly in a partying mood...I was being stupid tonight.”

He sat down on the windowsill beside you, facing out toward the backyard but turning to look at you, “hey, I’m stupid every night.”

“You know what I mean,” you laughed, “I’m so careful...I haven’t had a night that bad in a long time.”

“Why weren’t you? Careful, tonight, I mean.” He asked.  

“It’s stupid.” You put your hands on your knees and looked away from him. You’d hyped yourself up to crashing lows and now he wanted you to tell him why? “You should go back to the party.”

“Not really in the mood...can you believe it?” He laughed like it was nothing but you could hear the heaviness in his voice.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault...I just meant. If you’re up here, I don’t really feel like hanging out down there.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and looked over at him, feeling just the slightest catch in your throat. For a second you thought this night was going to get even worse and you’d throw up...but instead you just started talking, words falling out with no control, “I pregamed with Sarah before we even got on the Druthers cause I told her I was gonna tell you tonight that I liked you but I was so nervous that you would tell me you didn’t wanna date me so I just kept drinking...” you said. You realized a moment later what the implication was, “not that its on you that my sugars dropped...or like, not that you have to say you like me just cause I almost passed out.”

“What if I do like you though?”  

“You do?” You asked, shifting more toward him, “seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously...why do you think I came all the way up here? Or carry around jolly ranchers? I like you...I’d do anything for you.” He replied.  

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you leaned closer to him, “oh well, now it’s definitely your fault.”  

He laughed, “let me make it up to you.”  

You nodded, standing up and climbing back through the window before holding your hand out for him. JJ was quick to his feet, taking your hand and pushing the window closed as he followed you further into your room.  

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Hi love, pretty sure you're requests are open (if not just ignore this) n e ways what about Inarizaki with manager who's like intimidating (i've been told i am intimidating lol) and very sarcastic, much Tsukishima Kei vibez cuz that's basically me😃

Just like how would our boys react, very curious and take your time btw don't have to rush it, do it whenever you feel like :D

Oh my gosh Nat, it's literally my honour to write this for you. You can request anything, anytime, and you'll be a top priority (ily<3)

Inarizaki with a tsukkishima-ish manager.

Specially dedicated to @sunasthing <3

So first of all, if you think that's gonna stop the boys from simping over you, you've got it wrong 😖🖐️

The boys would literally take it as a challenge to get your softer nature out, especially Atsumu.

I GENUINELY think he'd find it really hot whenever you snap back at him, or tell him off. (maybe he's like Nishinoya and Tanaka in that sense ��)

Constantly pesters you, and although you don't give him a reply often (because he's annoying as fuck), if you ever acknowledge him slightly, he WILL flirt with you.

Beware tho, even if he comes off as flirty and charismatic, he's literally just a dorky small baby and genuinely wants your attention because he thinks you're the coolest person ever.

And if you're ever nice to him, you can best bet he'll replay that moment in his mind before sleeping EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

Y/n, earlier that day: don't get hurt. I don't want to have to deal with anyone on this team being injured

Atsumu at 3 a.m: s-she cares about me 🥺🥺

I think Osamu would vibe really well with you. He's not annoying, he's really really chill, and he has a pretty sharp tongue himself.

Judges people as an attempt to make you laugh, and he sees it as a personal victory if he can get you to crack a smile or smirk. He just doesn't make a big deal about it, unlike his twin xD

Osamu: y/n look at that guy. he's totally crushing on his brother's best friend, could he not be more obvious about it??

Y/n: *cracks a smirk* yeah, it does seem so.

Osamu, internally: ✨v i c t o r y i s s w e e t✨

He also cooks for you pretty often, and even if you protest against accepting it, you'll usually find a bento hidden in your locker or bag.

He knows you might not accept it straight, so he finds other ways to get it to you. Osamu actually thinks of you as a cooler sister that he says "he'd trade Atsumu for"

In general, the twins are the life of Inarizaki and although they're sometimes annoying, they mean well and it's plain to see that they love you.

Kita loves how smart and analytical you are. I've said this before, I'll say it again— Kita thinks brains are sexy 😤

Especially when you call the team to give your insights about their opponents, or give them ideas on how to improve their play, Kita is literally there like “I'm so glad she's ours”

Because you would be a dangerous asset to other teams, and Kita is the most thankful that you're with them.

He's also a really good leader and although the two of you don't have heart-to-hearts or conversations like the twins, you know he'll ALWAYS be there for you.

Like once, it was raining and practice was cancelled, so you decided to wait in school until the rain subsided (because you didn't want to get wet), and our sweet Kita searched for you in every single classroom until the finally found you and walked you home. That's just the dynamic you had with him

He also often checks up on you, even when it's unrelated to volleyball. Have you done your homework? have you ate breakfast this morning? although you're usually sarcastic with the twins and most of the other members of the team, you can't bring yourself to do so with Kita.

The respect you guys have for each other is unmatched and that's probably why you're such a golden duo in Inarizaki. The leader and the analytical manager.

And now Suna. I think Suna would be the member you have the deepest bond with. you truly allow him to see who you are inside, and he does the same. You guys really just click.

It started with him complaining about Atsumu, and slowly progressed into you letting Suna be the only member to have physical contact with you, but only when the others aren't looking.

Sometimes, if you guys are the only two people in the gym, he'll nap on your lap or lean on your shoulder.

If you didn't already know, like everyone else in Inarizaki, he has a crush on you 😖🖐️ like damn you thought Atsumu had it bad? nah, Suna has it the worst.

He literally asks his little sister to let him practice braiding her hair, just so he'll be perfect when he someday asks to do yours.

But he always chickens out because he's scared you'll say no 😭😭 he's internally very shy, okay? 🥺🥺

He's literally your best friend. You guys have study sessions together, anime nights, literally anything, he's right there with you. The rest of the team are literally not aware of how close the two of you are.

Until one day, Atsumu tries daring you to kiss Suna on the forehead, and instead of flat-out refusing (like you've done before when he's dared you to kiss him, or Akagi) you shrug and gently kiss Suna on the forehead, causing Suna to smile and ruffle your hair.

The rest of the team is just shocked.

Atsumu: what is this FUCKERY?? is y/n literally WILLINGLY touching someone ??¿¿

Y/n and Suna: *smirks*

Atsumu, close to tears: okay

But the rest of the team soon accept you and Suna have a pretty special bond, and that you're genuinely softer when it comes to him.

You don't snap at him much, and as they've noticed, Suna has started being more brave about leaning on your shoulder or sleeping on your lap.

Of course, the rest of the team (with the exception of Kita) is jealous. But hey, they just don't have Suna's charm, okay? xD

You make Suna want to try harder, and he's way more motivated to give it his all in every single game. Mostly because he wants you to be proud of him.

He definitely has a nickname for you, but he will only use it when he's sure you guys are alone. And in return, you call him "Rin" which makes his heart flutter 🥺🥺

KAHDKSS I TOOK SO LONG WITH THE SUNA ONE PLEASE IM TURNING BOTH OF US INTO EVEN BIGGER SUNA SIMPS (as if we weren't already xD)

Now onto Aran !! Aran is a softie who (like Kita) respects you a great deal. He'll fend Atsumu and Osamu off if he senses you aren't having a great day.

He's also pretty good at giving you your space but he checks up on you every once in a while if anyone is bothering you.

Although he's shy about it, Aran actually comes to you when he doesn't understand a homework question. You're super smart and he knows you won't make him feel bad about not knowing.

And it makes you feel happy to know he trusts you, so you help him as best as you can. It's a little secret of yours that the other members don't know about.

It especially lights your day up when he gets a good grade and whispers a silent "thank you" to you in class.

In return, will help you with anything you ask for. No questions asked.

And now, last but not least, sunshine Akagi!! I think he's a total Hinata Shoyo, so he might annoy you a bit at first because of his bright personality.

But deep down inside, you love how easily he gets people to smile and slowly find yourself warming up to him.

And Akagi is really determined to get you to smile (at least once a day) so he cracks the corniest jokes or makes puns.

It has become a thing between the two of you, where Akagi tells you a joke a day, and you rate it out of ten.

Gone are the days when you found him annoying. And now, even if you won't tell him outright— you really do think he's one of the brightest people in your life.

Additional headcanons

CHEERING YOU UP— whenever you feel quieter than usual, or a bit more sarcastic, the boys immediately know something is wrong and rush over to make you feel okay. Literally, it's almost like they've abandoned practice. And eventhough you tell them to get back to it, they refuse to leave until you're feeling better. Suna usually gives you a hug and kisses your forehead, whilst Akagi cracks jokes. Then, (and eventhough you protest) Atsumu lists off all the things you should love about yourself, whilst Osamu buys you ice cream (food is, after all, the best cure for anything). Aran is literally ready to HUNT the person who affected your mood down, and kill them, whilst Kita is literally just holding him back and making sure things don't go overboard. Even if you aren't fully cheered up by then, you'd have laughed a whole lot and know how much they care for you, so honestly... how could you stay sad?

REACTING TO YOU TELLING THEM OFF— Suna is literally just meh about it. He can't take you seriously because he's a dork who thinks he's not included in the list of "idiots" (but no Suna, u mf, you ARE included -_-). Atsumu thinks it's hot 👀 (as I mentioned above), Akagi is genuinely upset/ready to sob and vows to do better. Kita is proud of you for telling them off before he could do it (Kita is not included in the "idiots". How could he? he's PERFECT 🖐️). Osamu and Aran have similar reactions, because they end up apologizing and try to change tactics and do better.

HOW THEY'D ACT WHEN YOU START DATING SUNA— (because this is honestly inevitable, wbk 😭❤️). Atsumu would be jealous. Petty and would call Suna "pretty boy" every chance he gets. Leave him, im sure he'll get over it 🥺🥺 Osamu is pretty jealous too, but he'll never show it and focuses instead on your happiness. Kita approves, and honestly thinks you're a good influence on Suna. Aran is protective of you, and would literally gun Suna down if he ever hurt you (but he won't. Suna loves you, he'd literally jump down a cliff before ever hurting you 😤🖐️) and Akagi is cheerful as before, but extra glad because you seem to smile a bit more often (and Akagi loves your smile).

I took a lot of effort on this <3 hope you like it, bae !! Taglist— @dai-tsukki-desu @sunasthing @k-sakusa-old @tilli-san

[allronix]

Carth and Force Sensitivity (crossposted from Reddit r/kotor)

This is for @k-she-rambles:

Okay, so while we're shooting the bantha crap over on KOTOR fan theories, u/134340Goat mentioned my all time favorite "Have you been chewing spice?!" fan theory when it comes to KOTOR: Is Carth Force Sensitive?

So this one starts with a story. I mentioned my brother in law, who is pretty much Keeper of the Jedi Archives. Seriously, he's an English teacher and my sister is a librarian. They met at a sci fi convention and their first date was Phantom Menace. We're taking not just geeks, but geeks who can throw the damn bookshelf at you. Brother in law bought KOTOR on the day it launched and turned it into a week long binge watch at his house. And because brother in law is that kind of geek, he's translating the characters into the West End D6 system. I'm watching him do a playthrough, and he's got Canderous and Zaalbar at Ajunta Pal's tomb.

Allronix: Huh. That's odd. Why aren't commenting on anything when Ajunta is speaking?

Bro in law: Oh. They can't even see Ajunta. You have to be Force Sensitive to see a Force Ghost The stronger your Sensitivity, the better you can see it.

Allronix: Really? Then how come Carth can see it?

Bro in law (gets the "holy shit, I gotta confirm this" look): Really?! He just sees something out the corner of his eye or something?

Allronix: No, he sees Ajunta just fine. Understands what the dude's saying too.

Bro in law instantly rolls back to his last save, swaps Zaalbar for Carth, and sees the bit in question.

Bro in law: Oh. Dear. (Goes over to make some quick scribbles on Carth's character sheet)

Okay, so maybe that was a lore fail. I didn't really think about it too much until I hit that False Level Up glitch and ran around with Carth and Mission as Sentinels. Now, while I couldn't really see Mission as a Sensitive, that little bit with my bro in law nagged at me. And became a "once you see it you can't unsee it." Apologies to TV Tropes, where some of these were my additions to the Wild Mass Guess entry on this topic.

Any one of these on its own is pretty easy to blow off. After all, man is career military, and knows All this Shit is Weird. I also like to think of Sensitivity as a spectrum and not a switch. If all life is connected by the Force, then all life would be Sensitive to some degree or another. It’s just a matter of to what degree. It’s only as the list gets longer and longer does the case start looking damning...

What are the odds of surviving that attack on the Endar Spire, getting to the escape pods, sharing the last escape pod with the mindwiped Sith Lord, piloting through the chaos, landing in what passes for the "good" part of town, remaining uninjured, pulling the badly injured mindwiped Sith Lord from the wreck, evading Sith detection while all this is going on, and just happening to find a dump of an apartment where the landlord's not asking questions? That is one amazing string of coincidences and good luck. Get that many in Star Wars, and it's definitely The Force sticking its nose in things.

Piloting the escape pod to land in the Upper City, piloting the Hawk through the Sith Blockade of Taris, the random Sith patrols, the escape from the Leviathan, and the fleet around Lehon along with the crash landing that left the ship easily repairable. Now, compare to Atton who we know to be an excellent pilot and drawing on The Force who still manages to crash the ship at least three times.

He's a scary good judge of character if you're interacting with other NPCs. If you watch him with other NPC characters, he's got a pretty good compass as to which characters are being helpful and which ones are full of shit. The only one he calls incorrectly is Rukil, who is probably also an untrained Sensitive (the age, the "marked" comments) and half senile, which is probably throwing him.

Related to that, his distrust and wariness about something not adding up with the PC, the Jedi Council feeding the party a line of bull, that things just aren't adding up. And on all of it? Dead on. He's 100% right about the Player Character, he just expected something a little less crazy than "that's Darth freaking Revan."

If you play Female Revan, then Carth's the one who gets fried in the torture cages on the Leviathan. Saul comments how strange it is that Carth takes so much punishment and still remains conscious. Now, this is a low level thing, but in lore, Force Sensitives have drawn on it to keep them alive or conscious under duress. Explicitly, the first sign we got that Leia was a Sensitive when she withstood the Imperial torture droid.

Another of his scary ass judge of character feats? In the comics, Zayne (who is on the run from the Jedi, who framed him for the murder of his classmates) has a vision that Mandalorians are coming for Serroco. Saul? Laughs it off, throws Zayne in the brig. Zayne's own friends don't even believe him. Carth gets one of those creepy hunches and starts calling in "duck and cover" sirens as far as he can broadcast, which sends seventeen cities and millions of people heading for shelter. It saves their lives and Carth is called a hero for it. Armed with another hunch, he disobeys Saul (remember this is before Saul nukes Telos) and lets Zayne "escape" from custody. Mind you, not even the Jedi or his party members believed Zayne. Carth did.

Carth makes a lot of creepy weird offhand predictions about the future. He says he knows on some level he'll be there when Saul dies. That certainly pans out. He makes an offhand prediction that the Jedi have set the party up to take a fall. Right again. He tells a female PC that she'll have to make a choice soon, one she can't walk away from. And then we get the temple top. He even blurts out that "I sensed you would have to make a choice soon, and that was it*, I can feel it!"* If you specify a LS Female Revan, his recording for T3-M4 says he's had a hunch Revan would leave without warning. Again, spot on.

Specify a LS male Revan, and Carth will remark to Bastila that seeing the Exile reminds him "there are worse things to lose." The only other people who can see just how screwed up the Exile is are the Jedi Masters, Chodo Habat, and the Force Sensitive party members.

Specify a LS female Revan, and Carth will insist that he would know if Revan were dead (again, scary ass intuition) and that there's an "emptiness" where she used to be. Now, remember one of the things about a broken Force Bond? It would simply be "empty, a wound."

You know how your party members in KOTOR 2 feel upset or even horrified as they realize they feel compelled to protect Exile and can't being themselves to leave, even when said actions are kicking puppies? And how they swing wildly from being crazy, almost stalker level possessive of them to being scared out of their wits and clamming up when you try to pry anything out of them? And the more potent (and untapped) their Force Sensitivity, the more they get hammered with the effect? (Mira and Atton in particular) Yeah. Now, Carth's "I don't wanna talk" looks a bit different, doesn't it? It could also account for that romance arc, especially if you roll a DSF Revan and go for that "everyone dies" ending.

Again, Ajunta Pal. Seeing a Force Ghost? Yeah. Some degree of Sensitivity needed. Understanding what he's saying? Yeah. Takes a bit more than that. And Carth makes a weirdly insightful comment about the Dark Side on top of it.

Notice that this a wall o text argument already, and I'm now just getting to the "Yeah, his kid is able to throw around mid-level Dark Side powers and packing a red lightsaber." Given the jawline and the muleheaded attitude, no way Morgana was fooling around with the pizza delivery boy. That's definitely Carth's kid, and that's definitely Force Sensitivity. Now, while it can skip a generation (see Theron Shan), it tends to run pretty heavy in families.

Lastly? Gee. He comes from a planet settled by and heavily populated by descendants of Force Sensitives who failed their training. I'm also willing to bet some bastard children of Jedi get passed off as "foundlings" and "orphans" and dumped there, too. Jedi are forbidden attachments, but not sworn to celibacy, so...yeah, bastard kids are gonna happen. There's probably a Jedi or two in that family tree. It's circumstantial evidence at best, but it still supports the case.

Now, any arguments I missed? Counterarguments?

And the million credit question: If there's a character who gets to break this news to poor Flyboy, who do you think would actually take that on? How do you think Carth would take that kind of news? And what, if anything, would come of it?

I kinda figure Jolee might be the only one nuts enough to poke that with a stick...I also kinda figure "Sentinel" would fit best. Consular? Hell no. He hired Mical for that. Guardian works with the feats, but the whole "ferreting out deceit and injustice?" Yeah. That's Carth.

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (1/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,513

Warnings: fake dating au, mention to past abusive relationship

A/N: im so EXCITED to start posting this series lmk what yall think!!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

He couldn’t quite think of a word to describe the restaurant.

The deep tones of maroon on the walls contrasting against the clean, stark-white tablecloths, tablecloths that have been so deeply washed, soaked in bleach and radiating chemical residue beneath plates of fancy and over-priced dishes for people who have too much money than they know what do with.

Ratatouille is the special for tonight, priced at $32. Side dishes extra, of course.

The overly simple decor on the walls with lighting so dim you’d think they forgot to pay the electric bill, all in the name of minimalism and an art form you just wouldn’t understand.

Bucky has news for them, though. Minimalism won’t get rid of their depression and anxiety, and a $30 plate of vegetables won’t bring you happiness.

His collar feels tight around his neck, even though the first two buttons on his shirt are undone. The longer he stands around waiting for Sam, the more ridiculous he feels. He’s sweating suddenly, and all he wants to do is leave, go back to his apartment, to Alpine, and take off this stupid monkey suit of an outfit.

Where r u?

Should be sitting pretty at a table already. Wearing a cute lil red dress. maybe blue, not sure.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky mumbles under his breath after reading Sam’s text.

It’s Bucky’s fault at this point. Not only is this not the first time Sam has done this to him, set him up on a blind date and tell him it's him he’s meeting and not a girl, but it’s not the second either. Sam has done this three times, and this is going to be the fourth. How do you let this happen to you four times?

It’s not a surprise either when the date goes horribly all three times, either. The girls are always nice and always beautiful, but Bucky’s in such a sour mood by the time he reaches the table that it’s a failure from the start.

That’s a good word to describe the restaurant. Sour.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a table under Sam. Or maybe Bucky.” He approaches the hostess, praying that whoever Sam has set him up with isn’t here and that they stood him up.

“Ah, yes, your date has been waiting.” She tells him, and he tries not to roll his eyes.

The walk through the restaurant to the table makes him feel more ridiculous than when he was waiting. He feels all eyes on him and it makes his skin crawl, even though when he glances around, everyone has their eyes on their own date; their date that probably wasn’t sprung up on them by a man who dresses up like a bird for a living.

Careful not to trip over his own feet in the dark room, the only lights being small bulbs on a thin string from the high ceiling, he sees a table that’s probably for him.

The only table with one person sitting alone, he spots you looking down at your phone with a slight frown on your face. Sam was right on his first guess, you’re wearing a deep red dress, thin straps over your shoulders and he can see through underneath the table that it flows down to your calf. Nude heels adorn your feet as they are crossed at the ankle, and he can’t help but feel a little bad.

Just because he thinks minimalism and expensive meals are stupid doesn’t mean that other people don’t enjoy them.

“Hi, uh, sorry I’m a little late.” He greets as he takes his seat.

You look up from your phone and give him a closed-lip smile, an unspoken way of saying it’s alright, but he’s seen that tight smile on too many girls before to know that, no, it’s not really alright.

“I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” He asks, hoping that the sooner he starts the conversation, the sooner he can get the fuck out of here. Respectfully.

As far as introductions go, this has definitely been the most awkward. Neither of you know what to say. Not that he’s about to go around giving Sam advice about setting him up with people, because he certainly wouldn’t want Sam to take that as him asking him to try again, but he couldn’t have set him up with someone worse.

It’s painfully awkward, and he feels himself sweating again, blushing from slight embarrassment at this disaster of a date.

The waiter hasn’t even brought out the bread yet.

He can’t do this.

“Listen,” He begins after a few minutes of silence and the two of them awkwardly glancing around the room, as though the avant-garde art pieces are the most interesting thing either of them have ever seen.

“I’m sorry if I don’t seem like I want to be here, it’s because I don’t. And it’s got nothing to do with you, it’s just that Sam told me I was meeting him here because he thinks he knows best when it comes to setting me up on dates even though I’ve told him countless times that -”

He stops when he realizes you’re laughing. Giggles escaping from behind your manicured hand that’s attempting to cover your mouth, he can’t believe you’re laughing at him. As if the date couldn’t get worse.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you.” You tell him, the most you’ve spoken the entire night, only really telling him your name and a few one-word answers a while ago.

“It’s just that I don’t want to be here, either. And Sam also told me I was meeting him here, not a date. And I thought that was funny.”

That bastard, Bucky thinks. But he appreciates that it’s the situation you find funny, and not him. He’s never had a date laugh at him before, and as tough as he is, he can’t lie and say it wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He opens his mouth to say something but another man in an equally ridiculous monkey suit such as his own approaches the table, a basket of bread in hand.

He can’t help but notice how small the breads are and the fact that the butter is individually wrapped in those small tinfoils - not even The Cheesecake Factory does that, they bring butter in a tiny dish - but he doesn’t say anything.

At least now he has something to do with his hands.

The two of you both pick at the bread in your hands, and while the tension is somewhat eased at the table with the confession that neither of you want to be there, it’s still silent and awkward, as neither of you have spoken again.

Bucky doesn’t know what causes him to say it, maybe it's the obligation he feels to keep the conversation going and fill the silence, maybe his mind just insists on making the evening worse, because apparently that’s possible.

“My best friend died. Recently. And Sam’s been setting me up on these dumb dates to take my mind off it.” He says, and he sees out of the corner of his eye your hands pause around the bread and your head lifts slightly to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same.

“Sam was a little better about it at first, using distracting me as a way to distract himself while we both grieve. But he’s got the whole Captain America thing, helping his sister, working with Torres; he got over it a little quicker than I did and… expected me to get over it, too.”

He’s afraid to meet your eyes. He’s not sure why he just told you that, or why he felt like he owed you an explanation in the first place. He doesn’t even know you! What does he care if the date is awkward? He could leave now and never see you again and not feel bad about, and yet he sits here, sacrificing his own comfort in order to attempt to salvage the evening by being honest? Is honesty even what you want?

“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me. If we’re sharing tragic backstories, I mean.” You reply, looking down at your own bread now that Bucky’s head has snapped up to look at you, a humorless smile on your face.

“Had to move states, change my name, the whole nine yards. And while I wasn’t grieving a best friend, I was grieving… myself. My old life. And Sam doesn’t just distract himself by setting you up on dates, he’s been doing that with me, too. And, so, I kind of get what you mean, when you say that other people get over it and expect you to be okay, too.”

Another pause of silence, but the awkwardness is gone now.

“How many times have you heard the phrase, The grieving process is not -”

“Linear? Too many times. If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that, I’d probably have enough money to afford a plate at this place.” You finish for him, a disgusted look on your face. Almost the same look he had on his face when he entered the restaurant.

He laughs, though. The first time he’s laughed tonight.

“Are you two ready to order?” The waiter interrupts again, small booklet in hand, and thick French accent in the air. Of course, the waiters here are French, how is he even surprised?

“Do you mind if we have a few more minutes with the menu?” Bucky replies, not receiving much of an answer as the waiter looks him up and down, gives him a curt nod, and leaves the table once more.

“Listen, I don’t know about you, but this place looks like… I don’t even know, but it just looks sad, and I know a pretty good pizza place a few blocks away. If you don’t mind walking. Or continuing this date as friends?” He squints as he finishes his question, hoping you won’t take it as him playing hard to get, and actually want to be friends and absolutely nothing more.

“You had me at pizza.”

With the bread from the restaurant in hand and his jacket around your shivering shoulders, the two of you make your way down the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling at the thought of cheap, greasy, slices of pizza.

Sitting among people in their pajamas and otherwise casual clothing, it’s safe to say the two of you are the best-dressed people in the joint. Bucky tells you this and you laugh again, agreeing. Slice after slice goes down easily, much easier than any plate at that stupid clownhouse of a restaurant.

The conversation is easier, too. It’s almost like it was so bad before because of the suffocating atmosphere of the restaurant, The Fork, a stupid name for a stupid place.

What was that word he said before? Oh, yeah. The restaurant was sour. The pizza place, though, run by two older, heavier men with ungroomed mustaches and dark pit stains, is much less sour.

“I surprisingly had a good time tonight. I’m really glad we both came to an understanding of not wanting to date due to our individual unresolved trauma and issues, that we should probably be in therapy for.” You tell him, after thanking him for paying the six dollars both your copious amounts of pizza slices cost.

“I did, too. I’m just glad we didn’t have to stay at that dumb restaurant, I mean what was Sam even thinking with that place?” He rubs his fingers over his eyes in lasting disbelief. He’ll never let Sam live that place down.

“Speaking of Sam,” You start, stepping out of the pizza place as Bucky holds the door open for you, “Would you mind telling him that the date went well?”

“I mean, technically it did, didn’t it?”

“It did. But if we tell him that we left with a newfound friendship rather than sore legs and sex hair, he’s just going to keep setting us up on more shitty dates. I mean he’s great, but he does a better job at being Captain America than he does at being Cupid.”

“Agreed. He’ll just keep setting us up with people until we end up dating one of his picks, regardless of friendships made along the way. He’s too competitive, he doesn’t see friendship as a success, only a boyfriend or girlfriend.” Bucky admits.

“So… if he asks, we’ll just say we’re going to go on another date? And then whenever we hang out, we’ll just -”

“Be extremely and explicitly clear about it to him.” Bucky finishes.

They smile at each other satisfied, satisfied knowing they’re finally going to outsmart the bird man, they’re finally going to be done with shitty, last-minute blind dates that they never wanted to go on in the first place.

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no, my friend’s on her way to get me now.”

“I’ll wait with you then.”

Cheesy flirting ensues as the two of you joke about fake dating, competing to see who can think of the worst pick up line. Bucky feels a bit embarrassed that he probably would’ve used a few of these a few decades ago when he was a fresh, young man, but he doesn’t dare mention that to you. No need to give you more ammunition to use against him, and especially no need to risk you mentioning it to Sam.

Your least favorite, and evidently his favorite, is If happiness starts with “H,” why does mine start with “U”?

He laughs as you dramatically gag on the sidewalk, almost not noticing the car pulling up to the two of you.

“This is me. Oh, here’s your jacket by the way.” You move to take it off from atop your shoulders but he stops you.

“Hold onto it for me. And also, mention to Sam that you’re holding onto it for me.” He winks.

“Will do. Boyfriend.”

“Drive safe. Girlfriend.” He opens the passenger door for you, greeting your friend briefly, and offering a hand out to help you sit inside, closing the door after you’ve clicked your seatbelt.

He watches the rear lights grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down the street, and he begins walking back to where you two came from. His bike is still parked at the restaurant, after all.

That was probably the best date - not a date, friend date - he’s ever been on, and by far Sam’s greatest success yet, even if it’s not the romantic relationship he probably intended.

It was nice to talk to someone without the pressures of impressing them, the intrusive thoughts questioning their deeper motives or what it is exactly they want out of a date with him. He tried engaging in the whole hookup-one-night-stand culture once, and didn’t like it at all.

Not to mention, he’ll never have to go on one of Sam’s set-up dates again! And he didn’t even need to get a girlfriend to do so!

The night couldn’t have ended better, and he can’t wait to tell Sam all about it.

[teawaffles]

There's No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Phantom of Whitechapel arc (Chapters 25-29 of the manga).

Where there is light, there is shadow. Behind Britain’s glorious prosperity, lay a dark side.

In the capital of the British Empire, one place that embodied these disparities was situated to the east of the City: a slum called the East End. [1]

Here, the buildings were densely packed due to poor urban planning. Complicated alleyways crossed one another like the mesh of a net, serving as prime hideouts for criminals. For better or for worse, its residents were full of raw vitality, and prostitution and barbarity were rife.

In the East End district of Whitechapel, situated northeast from the Tower of London, walked a lone woman—— no, a man.

He had a slender physique, and his shining golden hair added a vivid colour to the grey city streets. With a mole under his eye, and a smile overflowing with confidence, he was a charmingly exquisite beauty.

This man — James Bond — walked forward with grace, paying no heed to the dangerous atmosphere around him.

When they had visited Whitechapel during the Jack the Ripper incident, Bond had heard that William’s birthplace was somewhere nearby. With the incident resolved, in order to understand William’s character better, Bond was now exploring the slum alone.

However, contrary to his dignified steps, a vague depression bloomed deep in his heart.

——As expected, with at least ten years having come and gone, it seemed that nothing related to Will-kun was left……

Bond had carefully searched the district. He even visited the place where a book rental shop once stood; William mentioned he’d lived there with Louis, but just as Moran said, it had already gone out of business.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and he had no more leads to follow regarding William’s past. Dejected, Bond headed towards the main street to make his way back.

“……Oh?”

As he passed by a small, vacant plot, Bond saw something curious.

In the middle of the square were a few young children surrounding a single red-haired girl. Thinking that he’d stumbled onto an incident of bullying, Bond drew nearer to stop them. But as he did so, the girl in the middle spoke up with vigour.

“That’s right. Today’s New Year’s Eve.”

She said so while rubbing her hands together, as if she were in the scene of a play. “Ssh—,” she murmured, then mimed the action of picking something up with her fingertips, and raised that hand into the air.

Going along with the flow, the other children around her each began to make their own strange movements. “Bwoo— bwoo—,” one hummed as they waved their hands above their head, while another went “Honk— honk—” as they flapped both arms like wings.

Watching from the side, this could be seen as a mysterious game played within the unique worldview of a child, but Bond continued to stand there and watch the children’s movements with fascination.

These actions could only be from “The Little Match Girl”.

The girl in the middle of the plot was the matchstick seller, the main character. Then the other children were the visions she saw within the flames of the matches she lit. In other words, they were acting out one of Hans Christian Andersen’s famous fairy tales.

A performance—— In that instant, something from his past began to stir up within him.

James Bond had formerly been Irene Adler, a renowned actress who was also a member of the Warsaw Imperial Opera. However, he had stolen secret documents which would have shaken the country to its core. With his life threatened by the British government, it was then that William and the others had rescued him. After which, he became agent number seven of MI6, and joined the Moriarty brothers’ cause.

Now for all intents and purposes, the woman known as Irene Adler was dead. It then stood to reason that he had stopped his acting work as well. However, even as he pushed forward with his undercover missions, he never once forgot the passion he had for the stage.

The children’s play had piqued Bond’s curiosity, and he was watching on with a smile when they seemed to notice his gaze.

“……Mister, can we help you?”

The girl who acted as the matchstick seller directed her question to Bond. Hearing that, the other children stopped their movements and looked in his direction as well.

He was a little flustered by the unexpected attention, but maintained a mild expression as he apologised.

“Sorry. It seemed interesting, so I couldn’t help but watch. Was that ‘The Little Match Girl’?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But how did you know?”

“I was watching your actions.”

Then Bond pointed to each of the children in turn.

“You would be the main character, the little girl. Then you were the iron stove that appeared in her first vision. You were the delicious goose from her next vision. And you were her grandmother, from her last——“

Bond named each and every one of their roles correctly, and the children beamed.

“That’s amazing! Are you a detective?”

“Detective……”

That word brought to mind a certain man whom he was indebted to.

Bond chuckled. “No, I’m employed at a certain mansion. I was just passing through while on a quick errand.”

“Hmm—”

Without particularly doubting his answer, the girl continued.

“Hey, mister. What did you think of our act?”

Bond pondered over his response. Since they were children, one should probably just give some suitable praise and end it there. But his pride and love for acting which once allowed him to reach the rank of prima donna took over, and the words spilled out.

“It was a splendid performance. ……But I think it would be even better with a little more expression.”

“Ex—pres—sion?”

The girl made a puzzled face, and Bond knelt down to meet her eyes.

“For example, at the start, you wanted to show that you were ‘cold’, yes? You did well back there, but to show that you are cold, you wouldn’t just rub your palms together, ……”

He paused mid-sentence, then made his shoulders shake as he rubbed both palms together, blowing on them as if to warm them up. Somehow, it seemed as though even the colour of his face had changed — a realistic impression of being ‘cold’.

At his exquisite acting with the skill of a former actress, the children began to clap in unison.

“Wow mister, you were amazing!”

Bond took a small bow as he was bathed in applause.

“By learning how to do a few tricks like this, you can make your performances even more entertaining.”

“I get it — can you do any more?” asked one of the children. He nodded readily, then made his hands into the shape of small wings and imitated the sound of a goose honking. The quality of his voice could have easily be mistaken for that of a bird, and the children were once again astonished.

“That’s a goose!” They clapped their hands in glee, requesting other impersonations as well.

Bond humoured every one of them. Without realising it, he had gone from appreciating the children’s make-believe play, to joining in and becoming the centre of attention. But while he was delighted to entertain them, their surroundings were beginning to grow dark, and he was now thinking of hurrying them home.

Just then, the girl who had spoken up at first pointed outside the vacant plot.

“Ah, onee-chan!” she exclaimed, waving her arms vigorously.

Bond turned to look in that direction. There, stood a young woman with a look of disbelief on her face.

She came back to herself as soon as Bond turned around, then rushed over to the children. The girl ran over and hugged the young woman’s knees.

“Onee-chan, welcome back.”

“I’m back, Mae,” she said to the girl with a smile.

Then, she turned fearful eyes towards Bond. The young woman’s chestnut-coloured hair had been tied back; and although she seemed to have a dark atmosphere surrounding her, her features were clean-cut. She appeared not too far removed in age from him.

“Um…… and you would be?”

“Ah, my name is Bond. James Bond,” he introduced himself simply.

“Uh, Mr… Bond?”

But her reaction was slow. Her understanding of the situation definitely had yet to catch up, he thought. A handsome young man playing with children on a dimly-lit vacant plot — indeed, the scene before her was baffling.

Even so, she didn’t seem to be giving off any sense of suspicion or alarm. Just as Bond was beginning to think it strange, she hurriedly bowed her head.

“S—Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I—I’m her sister. My name is Maya.”

“Miss Maya, I see. Pleasure to meet you…… or rather, I’m sure you must’ve been confused to find your sister playing with a stranger. To start off, I would like to sincerely apologise for that.”

Saying that, Bond also bowed his head. He then explained the series of events to Maya, who was bemused by his friendly yet gentlemanly manner.

“——And that’s how Mae and the others invited me to join them.”

“And he’s really good at doing impressions!” boasted one child. Then, along with the other children, they started imitating the voices of the people and animals that Bond had showed them. He’d initially wanted to teach them about acting, but as they went along, the lesson had somehow morphed into a demonstration of mimicry. Well, as long as they had fun, he had no qualms about that.

Maya studied his face as she asked him a question.

“U—um…… Actually, I’d been watching your performance for some time earlier, Mr Bond…… Um, perhaps, you have worked in theatre in the past?”

“Uh……”

For a moment, Bond was lost for words, but he gave a roundabout answer to avoid revealing his true identity.

“That’s not too far from the truth. Well, you could say that I have a personal opinion when it comes to acting.”

“I—I see,” she replied automatically. Her gaze wandered restlessly before she spoke up again, in a cautious tone.

“Um…… Mr Bond. A—Actually I’m, part of a small, theatrical company, with some friends.”

“Really? So you’re an actor too, Maya.”

“Yes, and it really pains me that, you were asked to do impressions so crassly, upon our first meeting, but having seen your acting skills, um, I’d like to ask a big favour from you.”

“……A favour?”

Maya paused for a beat.

“We will soon be putting on a play at a big theatre, s-s—so we would be grateful, if you could watch our rehearsal, Mr Bond,” she said, as if she’d made up her mind.

Then she quickly bowed her head.

“Watch, your rehearsal? Me?”

Bond pointed to himself, surprised at the sudden request. Looking apologetic, Maya continued.

“We’ve been practising as much as we’ve could; but we’re a small theatre company that could close down at any moment, and we’ve never performed at such a large venue before…… With your knowledge of acting, Mr Bond, if you could appraise our performance…… and, if possible, give us some advice…”

“I see,” Bond understood.

According to the Theatres Act of 1843, ‘theatres’ in Great Britain were places where plays could be put up under the purview of the Lord Chamberlain. Moreover, in order to perform certain genres of work, the script had to be submitted for review, and approval had to be obtained.

However, owing to a loophole in the legal system, plays could avoid censorship if they incorporated music. Hence, a good number of informal theatres operated in this manner. In addition, as their audience was mostly comprised of laypeople from the working classes, many of these theatres performed the type of song-and-dance spectacle popular with such a crowd.

From the way Maya talked about her company, he gathered that they had probably been performing musical numbers at unregulated venues like these as well. Hence they had no experience staging an actual play at an officially-licensed theatre, and that was why they were asking him to evaluate their performance.

Having grasped her situation, Bond asked a question that had been niggling at him.

“Just out of curiosity, your theatre company should have a director, right? Wouldn’t they be offended if I were to come in?”

“I’m taking on the direction of the play. B—By the way, I’m also the chairperson.”

Bond was rather surprised at what she said. In truth, it didn’t occur to him that such a timid and seemingly weak-willed person would be in charge of a theatrical company, even if it was a small one.

However, although Maya had tended to keep her eyes downcast throughout, they betrayed no doubt. From that, Bond knew her request was genuine.

“Um…… I suppose it is too much to ask?” she enquired, in a fearful tone.

“——Alright.”

“Wha?”

She had not expected him to agree so easily.

“I’ll take on your request. I’m partly self-taught, but if it’s alright with you, I would love to watch you and your company perform.”

Maya immediately perked up and bowed her head, speaking loudly for the first time.

“T—Thank you so much!” she cried, jumping for joy along with the other children.

Footnotes:

[1] The City refers to the City of London, which is the historic centre of modern London (Wikipedia)

T/Ns:

The sisters’ names could equally have been Maia and May respectively, but I chose Maya as I think it reads better, and Mae to differentiate the two of them more easily.

I had to use onee-chan since Maya specifically introduces herself by name later on.

[unfortunatelysirius]

Wicked Charm, What’s Your Patronus? | Remus Lupin, Marauders Era

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

One day in Defense, Professor Boomstick offers whoever can produce a corporeal Patronus an Outstanding on the next essay as well as an out on a test. When Y/N shockingly produces a wolf Patronus, well… you can assume the rest.

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

Why did I name a guy Boomstick? Because that word is fucking hilarious to me THAT’S WHY (also this sucks ass but tbh I'm just going with the flow nowadays whatever comes out comes the f out whether it’s shit or not) and for anyone who wants to get technical, believe me i already know what u will say

      DEFENSE WAS Y/N L/N’S last class of every Friday and as of late, the only class she fervently dreaded. It was a mix of students from different Houses but dominated by Gryffindors. Three of the infamous sixth-year Gryffindor circle, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, were in there, each of the blokes gifted with a wand. Y/N didn’t pay them much mind at the start of the year but after a few months of mingling and getting to know her classmates, she had developed somewhat of an acquaintanceship with the boys, perhaps even a friendship. She was one of the other few Gryffindors in the room and after she particularly chewed out one of the Ravenclaws feet from the classroom for ruining her perfect attendance record (allegedly, the clumsy arse caused her a three-day sentence in the Hospital Wing) James and Sirius decided she had enough style and substance (“Marauder flair,” they called it) to invite her into their gang.

      It was as unenticing on the inside as it was from a feet-on-the-ground outsider’s perspective. Y/N wasn’t very adventurous. She was miles away from Lily’s singlehanded definition of “studious”, but still a pretty mellow person, preferring to keep to predetermined routes and undetected on radars. She was an extrovert with introverted tendencies, mostly appearing at times with people who differed in lifestyle. Like James and Sirius, two peas in a pod.

      Remus Lupin was much less of a firecracker inches from popping, his voice tampered and quiet, his disposition ripe with premature wisdom. Y/N found him likeable. Almost too likable—a noticeable kind of fancy that only prats would fail to see. Then that fancy became more; she didn’t remember how.

      This was open to judgment from the gods, who could choose to interfere or leave Y/N’s recent change of heart alone.

      Unfortunately for her with this newfound friendship and growing fancy, James and Sirius had enough arrogance to fit the Greek gods from ancient myth…

      Zeus and Poseidon, at least. Maybe even Aphrodite, the bloody matchmakers. 

-

      Professor Boomstick, a stout, ashen man who oftentimes went into tangents about how the Muggle Army was a lousy old group of incompetent twats, liked challenges. He liked challenges for his students, specifically. He also liked favoritism and had yet to liken any students to his old pub buddies. Today Y/N and the Marauders all went to class expecting a test, but Professor Boomstick was already there waiting—and the room was empty of desks. Y/N stopped in her tracks, feeling Remus’s tall, lean frame smack into her backside. He apologized but she ignored him, sweeping her gaze across the floor. A group of students who found themselves there before her were huddling in a corner, nervous as sheep waiting to be sheered.  

      Y/N’s steps held an edge... She couldn’t deny she herself was nervous.

“Damn the test,” Professor Boomstick barked suddenly, catching Y/N’s bewildered eyes and holding them hostage. She swallowed hard. Surprises were not fun to her; she hated them with a passion. This old fart was just an arse to be incorporating one in place of a test on the history of Patronuses and Animagi she spent eons studying for. “We’ll see what you’re made of today without wasting parchment, can’t read your writin’ anyhow.”

      “What exactly are we doing?” a long-faced, petite-nosed girl asked.

      Professor Boomstick raised his wand and closed the door behind Y/N and the Marauders, throwing them further into the room. Y/N felt Remus’s arm brush her side and heat enveloped her from head to stomach.  Glaring at Professor Boomstick, they all walked to stand with the other students, keeping a close eye on the crazy man they all called their teacher. Thank Merlin Defense professors never lasted.  

      “For any of you kids that can produce me a corporeal Patronus, I won’t just give ye bonus,” Professor Boomstick said, smirking at the huddle of students. “Ya got an essay due two weeks time on endangered species of the Wizarding World and that test we had scheduled today’s rescheduled for Monday. I’ll give any of ya who give me what I want a freebie on the quiz—and an automatic Outstanding on the essay. Still gotta turn three pages in though.”

      The huddle of students struck up an excited exchange of whispers before going abruptly silent. Patronuses? That was hard-level shit and sparingly learned outside of class lessons due to its difficulty. Disappointment shuttered down the spines of each student, one at a time, as they all came to the same conclusion: this was a waste of time.

      “What? None of ya have even tried?” Professor Boomstick demanded, bushy white eyebrows furrowing in the middle of his forehead. “May be a charm, but it could save yer life someday. All it takes is one loose Dementor and BOOM! Your soul’s been sucked right outta ya.”

      Everyone flinched, some horrified at the sheer mention of Dementors. Professor Boomstick was right. No one really knew Patronuses and their uses. Advanced magic like that was too extensive, too dueling of a task.

      Professor Boomstick was getting frustrated and impatient, glaring at each student individually. Crazy old man.

Y/N L/N nervously glanced at her classmates, mostly the marauding group of boys she befriended, before she stepped out of the huddle. All eyes automatically went to her.

      James and Sirius were (in their opinion, rightfully) shocked she had this information under her belt the entire time—sitting on it, dwelling on it, never admitting to it where her friends were concerned. The two of them didn’t have any concept of privacy, both too invasive to be capable of secrets; Remus was nowhere near similar. Secrets were a part of his nature, only for the benefit of others and never his. If anyone could understand Y/N’s need to keep something like this close to her chest, it was Remus. Though, this wasn’t much of a secret. They all knew Y/N’s history and domestic life.

      Remus glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his face, but her back was turned to him. She could feel everyone looking at her and picking out a single pair of eyes was too strenuous a task.

      “Get on with it, L/N,” Professor Boomstick demanded.

      “Okay, sir,” Y/N said. She would have never dared do this, but she was drowning in coursework from her other classes—any further work and she’d lose sleep, her grades suffering for it. Her mouth opened, inhaling a deep breath she braced.

      Patronus charms were a complicated, beautiful species of magic. Arduous and dogging, it took someone particularly skilled to produce one—and you had to conjure one of your best memories, one of pure joy and exhilaration. Not just happiness, as one of Y/N’s old mentors incorrectly told her once upon a time. Y/N came from a family always preparing for the worst and through the years as the likelihood of a war reached its peak, her parents grew increasingly paranoid and enrolled her in a summer mentorship program as a precaution. She learned the Patronus charm from an eccentric man named Ellis Hawking.

      Y/N’s happiest memory, the one that gave her pure, unadulterated joy, was when she was twelve and got to see her new baby sister.

      “Expecto Patronum,” Y/N said when an incandescent smile reached her lips. All concentration went into her wand when she pointed. Her wand felt like it thrummed under her fingertips and she targeted the air just north of herself, where no one was in her line of sight.

      Everyone behind her gasped when a shot of pure light emitted from her wand’s end, something growing larger as it left. Tendrils of silver and white swept the floor, coiling to become a translucent shape. The shape growled noiselessly, galloping on the ground like a wolf. It was a wolf. Majestic and sleek, making a turn to come running back at the caster herself—polarizing white eyes staring right into hers. Ears pinned back and slivers of silver hair standing on edge. All until it disappeared into the same device that made it. Creation and destruction, two separate words that meant the same: an inevitable, unavoidable cycle.  

      Y/N’s Patronus was last a dolphin when she first learned how to cast, not a wolf.

      Her Patronus had changed.

      “Bravo, bloody Hell—bravo, girl!” Professor Boomstick clapped enthusiastically. “For sure you’re gettin’ in my good graces rest of this here year. You’ve gotta be one hell of a witch casting a corporeal Patronus at sixteen! Bloody—”

      Y/N stared down at her wand, completely bewildered.

      Why did it change?

-

      James glanced over at Sirius while Y/N was distracted, a grin breaking his shocked composure. Neither he, Sirius, or Remus expected that; while Remus was busy frozen and possibly panicking himself into early gray hairs, James was bursting on the inside from excitement. Sirius shared a similar expression.

      “Looks like little Y/N’s in love with Moony,” he hissed under his breath, failing to lose his grin. “That’s gotta be it. I’ve read on this before.”

      Sirius nodded, a faux solemnness combatting the electric shock darting around like butterflies on his face. “After General Prat’s done,” he said, and the two nodded like soldiers heading to war.

-

      When no one other than Y/N could even produce an incorporeal Patronus, Professor Boomstick disappointedly released them—promising a nervous Y/N not to worry about the test or upcoming essay. James and Sirius automatically attacked at the last nameless student’s retreat, Remus trailing his two mates like a left-behind dog.

      Sirius’s eyes zeroed in on Y/N’s wrist, where a charm bracelet dangled. It was covered in expensive-looking charms, one of engraved letters, a wand, a little wolf.

Whoa, cauldron’s bearings. There was a bloody wolf charm! What were the odds?

      “Wicked charm,” Sirius said through a wink. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two blokes then at her charm bracelet, not at all soothed in their presence. Still struggling to understand why her Patronus would be different, the two twats harassing her wasn’t desirable—especially since they looked like they did while meddling. Pranking. Causing mischief. Y/N made it clear ages ago she wouldn’t react kindly if they decided to fuck around with her the way they did with the rest of the Hogwarts student body. She liked her comfort bubble how it was, unperforated by buffoons best left six feet away. “Wolves. Did you get it to match your Patronus?”

      Y/N bit her lip. “Well, actually—"

      “Ah, Padfoot, obviously that wouldn’t be the case,” James said, slinging an arm around his mate’s shoulder. “She got it because it makes her think of a certain someone.”

      “Who would I even think of? You guys are such prats,” Y/N said indignantly, narrowing her eyes now. Seriously, what were they getting at? They didn’t know anything, just perfectly well how drive anyone and everyone up the bloody wall. They’d drive a sane man mad!

      “James, Sirius, don’t,” Remus said softly, appearing from behind. His eyes were wide with alarm, meeting Y/N’s at her sharp twist. He gulped at the annoyance in hers; James and Sirius had already done their damage. Idiots, they were.

      “See, Y/N, I don’t think your Patronus has always been a wolf,” Sirius went on, pretending like neither Y/N nor Remus spoke in the first place. “Am I wrong?”

      Y/N warily said, “No…”

      “Did you know Patronuses can change to be complementary of their lovers’?” Sirius grinned obnoxiously. He shrugged his shoulders and nudged Y/N with one of his hands. “Just a thought. Maybe you fancy somebody, love ‘em.”

      Y/N’s eyes widened and involuntarily, they looked at where Remus was standing. Remus froze again.

      “We’ll leave you to it,” James said hastily, still grinning.

      The bespectacled boy quickly lassoed Sirius around the neck and guided him to the door, calling to Remus that they’d be back in their dorm by the time he finished.

      Remus awkwardly glanced over at Professor Boomstick. The man was just standing by his desk, drinking out of a flask, presumably waiting for his next class. Y/N sighed and unconsciously laced her fingers into Remus’s, dragging him away from their crazy-ass professor.

      Once outside, Y/N faced Remus. “Is your Patronus a wolf?” she asked quietly, hurriedly. She didn’t want anyone to overhear, though the only likely soul left in distance was Peeves.

      Remus looked at the ground. “Yes,” he reluctantly told her. He and the Marauders had yet to let her in on his furry little secret.

      “Oh,” Y/N said and went silent. It’s not that she didn’t want to be in love with Remus, she just didn’t understand why she could have been so stupid to cast her Patronus in front of the entire class without contemplating her feelings for Remus first. Especially with prior knowledge that a wolf Patronus implied the chance of the charm caster being a werewolf. Students from the class would be beside themselves with rumors of Y/N being a werewolf herself.

      As long as it wasn’t Remus being investigated.

      “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, peeking up at her.

      Y/N rolled her eyes. “Remus, why are you apologizing? Because of what animal the charm was? I’m not a bloody idiot. I know. Good thing I’m the caster, no one else, right?”

      “Why would you like me, let alone love me?” Remus asked. “I don’t understand. I’m—”

      “No, don’t even say it,” Y/N said, meeting his gaze. She reached forward and held his shoulders. “You’re handsome, funny, and intelligent. The least mad of any bloke I’ve seen. That’s all that matters to me.”

      The heels of her feet lifted off the ground so she could peck his cheek. Remus flushed red and flinched back, not having expected any sort of affection—but Y/N deliberately ignored his confusion. She snorted and turned to leave.

      Remus stood processing the unlikely events.

Y/N didn’t hear corresponding footsteps and stopped walking herself. “I hope you at least somewhat like me,” she said over her shoulder. “Else, that’d be one bloody embarrassing confession.”

Oh.

Remus’s shoes squeaked when he jogged to catch up. With his cheeks still aflame, Y/N hoped that meant he did, in fact, reciprocate.

I might need to do something about everyone seeing my Patronus, Y/N thought. Stupid Hogwarts and its plethora of assholes waiting for worthy gossip.

She was sure James and Sirius wouldn’t mind Obliviating the entire school for her and Remus. The idiots did supposedly do anything for their friends. 

[rubysunnday]

Sarcasm

A/N: this is called ‘how many Stiles Stilinski quotes can I fit in one fic?’ Turns out quite a few

Y/N sighed as the phone rang for the fifth time that day.

“Tom!” She yelled, hoping he would answer it so that she didn’t have to get up. “Tommy !”

“I’m busy!” He yelled back.

Y/N groaned, unfolding herself from underneath the blanket and got up for the sofa. She all but stomped over to the phone, making sure her brother was aware of how annoyed she was at having to move.

“Hello?” She said as she picked up the phone.

“Oh, thank god it’s you.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Finn? What do you want?”

“I need your help,” Finn replied, panting slightly.

“Why are you out of breath?” She asked, frowning.

“Because I’ve just run a marathon,” Finn said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “I’ve just been chased down the street by some random Italians!”

Y/N turned her back to the betting shop. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, not what I meant. Why do you need me?”

“Well, I don’t really know what to do.”

Y/N groaned. “Alright, fine. Where are you?”

“Phone box near the station.”

“I’ll be ten minutes,” she muttered, already regretting answering the phone. She put it back on the receiver and grabbed her coat. “I’m going out!”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Arthur yelled at her as she left.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No promises,” she muttered, shutting the door behind her.

Finn hadn’t moved from the phone box.

Y/N sighed at her brother as he all but burst from inside and ran towards her. “What did you do?”

Finn hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it several times before answering. “It’ll be easier to show you.”

He grabbed her hand and began dragging her down the road. Y/N sighed but allowed her brother to keep dragging her. They walked past rows of house, turned down several suspicious looking alleyways and definitely walked in a circle several times.

“Finn, love, where are you taking me?” Y/N asked as they walked past the butchers for the sixth time.

“Here,” Finn said, pulling her in front of him and pushing Y/N into the entrance of a dead-end alley.

Y/N and stumbled to a halt and stared at the body of a rather large Italian at the end of the alley. “Finn, what did you do?”

“It was self-defence!” Finn exclaimed loudly.

“Alright, alright, shut up,” Y/N said, slowly walking forward towards the body.

“I’ve already called the police.”

Y/N turned to look at her brother, eyebrow raised. “You called the police before you called me?”

Finn frowned. “I’m supposed to call you when I find a dead body?”

“YES!” Y/N said loudly, throwing her hands up. “Bloody hell, Finn, do you have any brain cells or do I have all of them?” Y/N sighed. “Alright, if you’ve already called the police then we need to leave.”

“They didn’t seem overly concerned,” Finn replied. “Maybe we should phone them again.”

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“No, what do you mean no?”

“I mean no, you want to hear it in Spanish: Noh,” Y/N replied, staring at her brother. “I swear to god this family has two brain cells and that Polly and I are the only ones who ever have them.”

Y/N grabbed her brother’s arm and dragged him away from the alley.

“What about the body?” Finn asked, pointing at it as he was led away.

Y/N shrugged. “They’ll sort it, come on,” she said, pulling him in front of her and pushing him.

“But, shouldn’t we tell someone?” Finn asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Yes, let’s tell the entirety of Small Heath that Finn Shelby murdered an Italian with his brother’s gun.”

Finn stopped and glared at her. “The sarcasm is not appreciated, Y/N.”

“I’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, sarcasm is my only defence,” Y/N shot back. “Not to mention I just saved your ass.”

“Where are we going?” Finn asked as Y/N pushed him into walking again.

“A dead body?” John asked, staring at them, eyebrows raised.

“No, a body water,” Y/N snapped. “Yes, a dead body!”

John sighed. “Alright, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, it was your gun Finn murdered him with.”

“It was self-defence.”

“Still murder, Finn,” Y/N replied. “John, I just need you to move the body and burn it and no one will be any the wiser.”

John shook his head in despair. “Fucking hell, fine, where is it?”

“Why have I just had a phone call from Moss about a dead Italian near the butchers?”

Y/N winced at Tommy’s yell as he marched into the room.

“Ah, fuck,” John muttered. He stood up and walked into the betting shop flanked by Y/N and Finn. 

“What Italian?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“No idea, Moss got a phone call about a dead body and found it in an alley,” Tommy replied, leaning on the back of a chair and looking at the room. “I’m only going to ask this once, did anyone here murder him?”

“Not me,” Arthur said, shaking his head.

Michael shook his head as well. “Weren’t me either, Tom.”

Tommy turned to look at John. “John?”

“I’ve been here all afternoon, Tommy,” John replied. “Finn and Y/N have been upstairs.”

“Yup, I’ve been reading,” Y/N said, following John’s train of thought.

“I’ve been sewing my cap,” Finn added, nodding.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Ahuh, then why did Moss say it sounded like Finn on the other end of the phone?”

Y/N sighed. “Fuck’s sake, Finn.”

“What was I meant to do!” Finn yelled.

“So, you lied to me?” Tommy asked, frowning.

Y/N shrugged. “That depends how you define lying, Tom.”

“Well, I define it as not telling the truth,” Tommy replied, walking closer to them. “How do you define it?”

Y/N paused, thinking. “Reclining your body in a… horizontal position,” she said, mimicking horizontal with her hands.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Tommy ordered.

Y/N nodded. “Absolutely.”  

“What exactly were you two going to do about this problem?” Tommy asked, staring at them both.

“Well, personally, I’m a huge fan of ignoring the problem until, eventually, it goes away,” Y/N replied, standing in the doorway.

“Y/N,” Tommy said, turning to face her. “What did I say?”

“Well you told me to leave but then started talking to me so I just… sort of… hovered,” Y/N replied, swinging her arms. “Besides, it’s not like the Italian was a good person or anything, probably had Finn shooting him in the head coming.”

Michael turned to stare at his cousin. “You’re a horrible person.”

Y/N sighed, nodding. “I know, it keeps me awake at night.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him!” Finn suddenly yelled. “It was self-defence.”

“What the fuck is happening in here?” Polly asked walking in and glaring at them all.

“Finn killed an Italian, Tommy’s pissed off at us – nothing new there - and apparently I’m a horrible person,” Y/N replied.

“Not to mention you won’t answer any questions,” Michael added, twirling his pen between his fingers.

Y/N clicked her fingers and pointed at him. “That too.”

Polly sighed. “I’ve been gone three hours.”

“What happens if they find out I killed him?” Finn asked.

“Who?” Y/N turned to look at him, frowning.

“The mafia!” Finn exclaimed. “I killed one of their own, they’re going to hunt me down and kill me,” Finn muttered, spiralling. “Oh god.”

“Alright, sit down,” Arthur said, shoving Finn into a chair and handing him a glass of whiskey. “I’m not gonna let you die, alright.”

Y/ N groaned. “God, can’t you at least think about it?” She asked, looking at Arthur lovingly. “For me?”

“I refer to my earlier statement,” Michael muttered.

“Oh, cry me a river, Michael,” Y/N snapped.

“Oi!” Tommy yelled. “We’re getting off topic. Y/N, since we all know you are a fucking terrible influence on Finn, you’re coming with me to dispose of the body.”

“Oh, no, thank you, it’s rather gory, disposing,” Y/N replied, shaking her head. “I might faint.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, staring at her incredulously. “You faint at the sight of blood?”

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped off arm!” She exclaimed.

“Y/N, stay here and keep quiet for once,” Arthur muttered, shaking his head as John laughed.

“If I could give you a grade on how profoundly you disturb me,” Michael said, looking at Y/N, “You’d be an A+ student.”

Y/N smiled gratefully at her cousin. “Aw, thanks Michael.”

John laughed again as Polly shook her head, slightly amused. Tommy groaned, hanging his head in despair.

“Right, Arthur and I will deal with Moss,” Tommy said, rubbing his face. “Y/N, stay here and try not cause any more chaos.”

“I wasn’t even the one to shoot him, Tommy!” Y/N exclaimed. “What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy said, waving a hand at her. “Stay here and let Michael teach you something useful, ok?”

“Yeah sure, we’ll do the alphabet, shall we Michael? Start with F end with U,” Y/N snapped, glaring at her brother.

Tommy glared back at his sister. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t end up shooting you at this rate.”

Arthur stepped forward, grabbing his sister by the shoulder. “Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?”

“If you ask them without the usual level of stupid, Arthur.”

Polly chuckled quietly. “Y/N,” she said warningly, her eyes betraying her amusement at her niece.

“So, you’re asking me to tell you what I wouldn’t not tell you,” Y/N asked, looking at her older brothers.

Arthur blinked. “First of, I have no fucking clue what you just said.”

“Secondly,” Tommy said, cutting in, “how about you just let us help you?”

“Well, it wasn’t me who killed him.”

“Y/N.”

“Well, I don’t know how to help you help me tell you something that would help if I don’t know it,” Y/N replied.

Tommy groaned. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

Y/N smirked, crossing her arms. “Possibly.”

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I’m back on my bullshit and we have GOT TO TALK about 13x08 The Scorpion and the Frog; which serves as a good example of why you should not ONLY watch spn episodes with Cas (partially because of that scene I shamefully blogged about earlier - no I will not link that cursed post here).  The episode title comes from a fable in which the villain is the scorpion.  Interpretations of this fable note its uniqueness lies in the concept that “the scorpion is irrationally self destructive and fully aware of it.”

To quote the scorpion, buddies -  “it’s in my nature.”

Anyway, this episode is subtextually predicated on exploring Dean Winchester’s nature and specifically - his bisexuality, and I’m not only saying that because it opens with Dean in his Bi Colors Plaid (that also he wore on his burger date with Cas).

Let’s get started, after the cut!

Season 13 on its face gives me absolute whiplash because it starts widow arc-reunion-TOMBSTONE and then Jack yeets himself off to Chuck knows where so Cas can go out Looking For Him Because Otherwise He Will Definitely Kiss Dean there is no other option for the writers at this point.  Sigh.  Here, have another shot of Dean anxiously cleaning his gun as he always does when Cas has Gone Off For Reasons -

Anyway, this feels like a filler episode at first, but as always they bury the ENTIRE damn world in it and I am here with my dossier to Unearth It.

Lets start with Bart (demon of terrible nicknames and microagressions) meeting the brothers at Smile Diner to talk about some spell or whatever. 

(I am not thinking about the Cherry Pie meta I AM NOT)

THEY HAVE THE AUDACITY to start with these lines immediately introducing the theme of duality, a thread throughout this episode.

BARTHAMUS

Everything. I've been following your careers a long time. You're a real pain in the pitchfork. And the halo. Natural disrupters. We have that in common, you and I. DEAN

Mm. Yeah, we're twinsies.

***MORE DUALITY!  But as we know, Dean does not like Bart because He Is A Freakin’ Demon

DEAN

Well, see, here's the thing. When a demon tells us to jump, we don't ask how high. We just ice their ass.

UMMM excuse me Barting Bacting Boices?  What is that sexual gaze?  

Then we find out that Bart has 1/2 of the spell.  They need the other 1/2.  Oh, a spell with two parts, you say? [ I am going to scream :) ]

***Also, Dean eats the pie Bart ordered.  I cannot begin to explain to you the state of unwellness that I am in regarding how important this is. DEAN NEVER GETS TO EAT THE PIE, remember?  But in This Filler Episode, Dean eats the pie. While Sam looks at him with a very quizzical expression.  Pie -> what Dean wants but never actually gets -> Dean actively eating this pie.  Dean is coming to terms that maybe he can have what he wants.

***I am reminding you again that this is post widower-arc, post-reunion, and especially post-Tombstone.  Anyway-

Now we get to Smash and Grab.  Not literally even though I want to Commit Such Conduct at this point.  We are introduced to two one off characters named 

Smash (human/female presenting) -  can crack any safe built by man 

and Grab (demon/male presenting)-  expert in bypassing supernatural security.

Reaching or no, you can’t disagree that when spn introduces one off characters - it is almost always a Narrative Parallel or Mirror.

So we have a human and a demon (and Dean Winchester, a human who has been a demon)

who are experts in cracking open/bypassing something that has been secured and guarded (breaking down walls, if you will).  

They also use fake names identifying them as Tools to be Used ( Dean Winchester, the Michael Sword/daddys blunt little instrument)

BONUS:

Dean himself is literally used as a tool in this episode.

So yeah.  Smash and Grab are physical representations of Dean’s duality.  Human/Demon.  Femininity/Masculinity.  Dare we say something else, too?

Anyway, Dean is paired with Smash and Grab; Sam is off to idk negotiate weird artifact purchases lawboy style with Luther Shrike, a man who cannot die so long as he never leaves his house (I cannot even begin to unpack this shit; please just sit there and think about it.  I’m not even going there here.  I CANNOT DISCUSS Luther Shrike RN).

Speaking of things I cannot discuss without halgdhsag;lsa - Smash has very Specific boots (a look overall, really).

DEAN

Hey, Winona. The '90s called. They'd like their shoes back. SMASH

Shh.

***That’s right girl - do not take his shit; he actually LOVES them and is therefore Overcompensating for it with this little jab.

***Dean’s pop culture references and particular attention to the details here Should Not Be Overlooked.  90s! Winona! Ryder!

ANYWAY, then Dean and Smash bond over a caffeinated beverage -

[While Dean is doing a spell, Smash opens a can of drink, takes a mouthful and burps loudly. ] SMASH

Ahh. DEAN

You're weird.

***This scene makes me literally insane. (even aside from Dean living on something named NERVE DAMAGE as a KID.  They could have called it anything. You’re saying this wasn’t a Choice)  

She chugs a swallow of the drink and burps.  Something stereotypically associated with masculinity.  Not feminine.  Dean’s reaction is that she is “weird” - because she is not acting in a way stereotypically, J*hn Winchester brain-rot patriarchy bullshit-tily associated with Being Female.  But also, says the stupid show, they like the same soda.  They are The Same.  She shares the soda with Dean.  HIS FACE WHEN SHE DOES -

Other similarities are addressed throughout the episode (they are working for demons because they have no choice; they don’t discuss feelings/emotions, they both sold their soul, they both This Thing - 

DEAN

You know, we could help you. SMASH

No, you can't. I gotta take care of me.

etc. etc.) Smash is absolutely dean-coded.

****Also it’s textually established that Smash thinks Dean is attractive -

GRAB

[looking at Smash] Oh. You said he was just a pretty face. SMASH 

Shh.

***But Grab flirts with him too.

DEAN

I will kill you. GRAB

I bet you say that to all the girls.

***sorry, Grab - you won’t get far with Dean, but only because as he mentioned in the beginning of this episode - 

Drowley rights.

Now Dean has to put his hand in the mouth of this stone lion thing and all of a sudden he is acting....very-not-like-Dean.

[Dean looks again and takes a deep breath.] DEAN

I… how about this? What if I cut myself, put it on, like, a little piece of paper? We'll just wad it up and throw it in the mouth, okay? Okay. 

***Dean Winchester, who has been to Literal HELL, who has been torn apart by hellhounds, who has battled the devil and angels and God’s sister - all at the expense of his own life is now - afraid of spiders.  Well, technically he has always been afraid of spiders, but why isn’t ‘he being performative about it At This Time??

***Come to think of it, this sends me right back to how Jackles was playing Dean in 12x11 Regarding Dean THE episode dissecting Dean’s performative masculinity [one day I will clean up and post that analysis sitting in my drafts like a sad hamster]. That makes sense actually, because -> -> ->

that episode and this one are both written by Meredith Glynn.  Girl get in I want to torture you affectionately with a barrage of questions.

So here we have Dean and he’s not performing for Reasons, and he’s scared he’s genuinely scared of putting his hand in this stone lion-gargoyle-pig-creature’s mouth and then -

Smash gives him a push.

She gives him a push.  I cannot stop thinking about how she gives him a push.  A push to go do this thing that he is scared of; his fear being something he was hiding under his performative masculinity. Smash - dean coded dean mirror who does not perform femininity and is ‘weird’ -  she   gives   him   a     p u s h.

***linking here for the jackting joices that follow.

Now, let’s circle back to Smash’s story; why she is working for Bart in the first place -

SMASH

You think I wanna be here? Like I have a choice? SAM

You made a deal. SMASH

Wow! You think? SAM

You sold your soul. SMASH

And if I could take it back, I would. 

there is no reason for this picture here other than I needed you to see the jackting again

***How does the story end for Smash?

DEAN

Take care of you. [Dean glances down at the box, and then at Smash. She sees that Dean has put a lighter on top of the bones.]  BARTHAMUS

Alice, chop chop! 

[Bart indicates she should get his bones]. SMASH

Yeah. [She grabs the lighter and sets Bart's bones alight. Bart screams as he bursts into flames. ] 

***She accepts help and breaks free from the narrative, literally burning it down. The female presenting but not female-performing “weird” ooc representing a side of Dean breaks FREE because she makes a choice.  The lighter Dean drops? It’s a push.  And she goes with it.

Alice reclaims her story.

(Also, Grab gets ganked.  The male presenting ooc; the performative masculinity side; the demon; the darkness; the not-humanity - gets ganked).

Guess what Dean says to Alice when they say goodbye?

DEAN

Hey, Alice. Stay weird.

[I know the peace sign is probably just a Charlie throwback but I’d still like to say duality.  Two. ]

Dean’s not just talking to Alice.  He’s talking to himself; because the walls have been breached and for once Dean isn’t as scared of being different.  Maybe, just maybe, he’s going along with the push.  That’s exactly how the episode ends - with Dean feeling a little more hopeful, a little more at peace; a little more Considering he is capable of not only loving Cas but also not hating himself for it. 

[until the knowledge that Mary is still alive and the guilt of allowing himself ANY happy thoughts instead of looking for her miserably rears its ugly head in 13x09 and round and round we go but for NOW at least -> ]

DEAN

I'll drink to that.

(oh look Dean is just wearing his henley.  It’s almost as if a layer has been peeled back).

tagging @im-shaking-like-milk​ and @deanwasalwaysbi​ for letting me ramble on to them while writing this; and @lilac-void​ because you are always so kind about my stuff :)

[letteredlettered]

Absolutely no pressure to answer if u don't want to but how did u and ur girlfriend meet? U guys seem really cute together.

We are insanely cute together.

This is a long story that doesn’t need to be this long, but whatever. I love my girlfriend and you asked, so here you go.

Last spring I was writing That Lesson Alone, which was making me rethink a lot of things I’d already thought a lot about before. That rethinking made me promise myself to be more open to new experiences, which I try to be, but I do let my social anxiety drive quite a bit of what I do.

So, when I got an email from a fan who said she was going to be in what she thought was my hometown, and she loved my fics, and was I interested in meeting, I said yes. She mentioned she had left a comment on one fic and that we had had a little conversation; I remembered this comment in particular because the personal story in the comment was rather sensational and quite interesting. Still, I might not have agreed to meet, because it could be very awkward. I don’t like talking to strangers with faces. However, because of That Lesson Alone, and because she was fannish, I agreed to the meeting. (I like meeting strangers who are fannish far more than strangers in any other circumstance. At least you can talk about fandom with strangers who are fannish, and I’m very interested in fandom. You can talk about work with work strangers or the bus with strangers you meet at the bus, but most real things bore me so I struggle with these conversations.)

This person sent me another email in another language, which stymied me for a little while about how to reply, but then she quickly sent me another email saying the first email was meant for someone else; the someone else also sounded sensational. When she got to my hometown, she emailed to say she had arrived, but only had a vague idea of when she was leaving, and she had no concrete plans so could meet any time. I began to get the impression that this person was, how do you say, A Ride, by which I mean one of those people who is interesting and clever and sensational but also extremely non-linear and flighty and difficult to understand. I mean she was halfway around the world and didn’t know when she was leaving; she sent the wrong people emails; the people she told me she knew were sensational; she was perfectly bilingual; she was totally down for meeting random strangers. I have a friend who is A Ride. She is what the Sisters at the Abby would call a flibberty-gibbet, a will-o-the-wisp, a darling, a demon, a lamb.

I wanted to meet on a weeknight (I don’t know if you know this, honey, but I told you I wanted to meet on a weeknight because I was busy, but although I can always be busy, so it wasn’t strictly a lie, this wasn’t my main motivation. I wanted to have an excuse to only have a small window of time to meet so that I could get away if it was too awkward), but on the night we arranged to meet, I was unwell. I was in fact entering the worse part of what I have now learned is a chronic illness. Usually this would be enough to convince me to cancel altogether, and to this day I’m shocked that I didn’t. Is it becoming clear that I don’t like meeting anyone and never ever date? Anyway, because of That Lesson Alone and my determination to be open to new experiences, we rescheduled.

I bused to the restaurant where we met after work and then walked from the bus. I remember this walk. I remember doing the thing that I do to prepare myself for social situations I don’t like, which is not letting myself dwell on it too much, reminding myself that I am actually rather good at making other people feel comfortable when I make the effort, reminding myself to ask questions, reminding myself I could get away, reminding myself that people actually find me quite personable and even vivacious, because I am, but if it’s with strangers, only if I fake it hard enough. These little reminders get me into game face, the face I use for dealing with other people.

Anyway, when I met her, she was very tall. This immediately made me more comfortable, as I am very tall and often feel awkwardly large around other people. And then the first thing she told me was that she had been watching something happy and queer, which meant we could not only talk about fannish things but also queer things. But was she going to be one of those people who just went on about straight things being dull? That always makes me uncomfortable.

Luckily, she doesn’t talk that way, and it was such an amazing conversation, the kind of conversation you dream about having with the love of your life, but the one you doubt you’ll have when you actually meet the love of your life. You imagine when you meet the love of your life you’ll have a conversation that goes, “Pass the salt,” and maybe you’ll talk about the weather, and then a few weeks later you meet them again and talk a little more about something equally uninteresting. Not until months pass by do you realize how much you have in common and how much you like being near them, and then you will start to talk about the things that truly interest you, and after years, you realize they’re the love of your life.

Most of the time, when you have a really stunningly good conversation, you don’t assume you’re talking to the love of your life. You assume it’s a once in a lifetime conversation, with a once in a lifetime person, and you never see them again, because they are too smart and too cool and too tall for you. Or, you do see them again, and you keep seeing them, because they are so mystic, so magical; they are so stunning and intelligent and intellectual; they make you feel so much, you just want to talk to them and talk to them and talk to them. And the more you talk, the more you find out that behind the magic, there’s actually not much that you have in common. Sometimes you find out that they trot out the same sensational stories on every occasion; they make the same jokes you found so witty over and over; you find out that everything that was glossy and new about them is something old that has been polished to shine, with very little you can hold on to and firmly understand underneath. Other times you just learn that your moral centers diverge, or you don’t actually like them. There is no fire beyond the initial spark.

This is just not true of my girlfriend. She is still smart and still cool and still sensational and, very importantly, still tall. I would not describe her as A Ride. She’s not one of those people who makes you feel like you have to sit back and hold on; though she’s endlessly clever, she can explain her thought processes and likes to; she thinks deeply about herself and others and listens. She’s so thoughtful and interesting and clever and also deeply passionate and exuberant about so many things that when you’re with her you can create a ride together that both of you drive or both of you sit back and enjoy. (She didn’t know when she was leaving my hometown because her flight back wasn’t for a long while, but she was traveling down to Oregon and California, and hadn’t bought train tickets yet, and we solved how the mistake was made on the email. We are guessing it was an autofill accident, since the person she was trying to email has a name that starts with the same letter).

She is reliable. She has a whiz-bang, knock-you-flat kind of memory, that not only remembers facts and conversations and locations but that remembers how you are feeling, and remembers to ask. She has the kind of broad-yet-also-piercing intellect that can follow an abstract conversation and build on it, even when you’re in the territory of feelings and concepts without names. She always wants to talk about her feelings, which makes me want to genuflect with gratitude, and she’s so hot she’d probably light a candle if she touched its wick. Like definitely keep her away from flammable substances. She’s creative and theatric and theatrically creative. She has big dark hair and curvy hips. She’s generous and accommodating and care-taking in a way that doesn’t negate her own self-interest. She’s gentle. She’s kind.

But anyway, so we got to talking, and it was one of the best conversations of my life, and I got on a bus and went home, very proud of myself for having accomplished A Social Thing, and telling myself, “See? Social Things are not always bad.” She had mentioned that she would be in town a little longer if I wanted to hang out again, but that would just be crazy, as having to do anything social twice in one week is a strain for me, much less with someone I don’t know. But the truth is, I already felt like I knew her, and leave yourself open to new experiences, said That Lesson Alone, and when else was I going to meet a magic person?

Also, I should mention, which I’m not sure I’ve mentioned to her, but I am suspicious of magical people. When I meet magical people I assume they are vampires underneath, by which I mean they are putting on an act, as I said above, or they are one day going to get you in a very difficult situation, because they are A Free Spirit, which, eventually, you find out means they think crime is fun, or something. I’m just a suspicious person, okay.

But we did hang out again. And that was also magical. And I invited her to my apartment, something I’ve barely done with anybody and never ever ever in my whole life with someone I’ve just met. And then I thought about having sex with her, which is something I basically never think about. And then she left town and said she might be in love with me, but at this point I still A LITTLE BIT thought she might be A Ride, in which case she probably fell in love with people all the time.

Usually when I meet someone very cool I assume they don’t want to pursue friendship with me, because they probably have way too many other friends. I think we’ve all been in the situation of knowing someone very popular and realizing that we do not mean as much to them as they do to us. I am always wary of investing too much emotion in someone who does not have the capacity to equally invest in me. However, because investing time in people I don’t know well is such a commitment for me, I’m also frequently guilty of just ghosting people. I often don’t respond to texts or emails. I often just drop people, without ever really meaning to. Part of it is how intently I focus on things—it’s difficult for me to be pulled in many directions at once, so it’s easier to have a few good friends rather than many casual ones. But part of it really is self-confidence, assuming people don’t want to know me.

However, writing That Lesson Alone reminded me that I am allowed to pursue friendships. It made me realize that a lot of my assumptions about people not wanting to know me are my own self-confidence issues, and not actually other people not wanting to know me. Writing That Lesson Alone reminded me I was worth knowing.

So, we kept talking. I was still late to replying to some emails, but I eventually did reply. I even got a new messenger app just to talk to her. We both have an interest in theater. I was directing a play. She expressed interest in seeing it. She was going to be in Canada when it opened. I told her if she wanted to see it she could stay with me if she wanted. I’d never really done anything like that before. She said yes. I still didn’t really think it would happen—but it did. She came to stay with me for a week that summer. I remembered thinking about having sex with her. I remembered thinking she might be open to it.

One of the things I wanted to be open to when I was writing That Lesson Alone was the idea of dating. I used to think that if I was open to dating, I would have to be open to dating lots of people I didn’t want to date; I thought dating meant you had to give everyone “a chance” and suffer through a lot of “pass the salt” just In Case. That’s why I didn’t date. I have actually been happy being mostly single most of my life. I never really felt a strong need for a partner, except in some sadder lonely moments, and even then, I wanted to be alone more than with someone who was just “pass the salt” okay. But one revelation I had writing That Lesson Alone was that I didn’t have to give everyone “a chance.” I didn’t have to give anyone a chance. I could just be open to dating, and look at what was out there (OK Cupid), but if nothing appealed, I didn’t actually have to do anything, since I already knew I was happy being alone. So, I thought more about what would be appealing, so I could know what I was open to.

I realized the person I wanted was tall (natch). With big dark hair. They like reading and talking about fiction and fictional characters. They can have abstract conversations about philosophical topics. And they are caring and accommodating in a way that can deal with an acerbic nature like mine, but they are also self-aware enough and assertive enough to be honest when I’ve hurt them. And they aren’t acerbic back.

This is a tall order. (hahaha) I thought about it a lot, because I really am harsh sometimes. I try not to be. I try very hard. I just get snappy when I’m tired or stressed, and even though I think about it deeply and put measures in place so that it won’t hurt other people, and I reflect on my own behavior and make apologies, I still hurt people. And despite all of this I’m still hurt by anyone that acts like me. I can deal with it! In fact, lots of times I like it, as lots of people like that (myself included) tend to be blunt and I love blunt, because I love knowing where I stand with people. But I also know that, as a rule, I just cannot be extremely close and spend my life with someone who will snap at me. I’m just too sensitive.

Anyway, over this week she stayed with me, I realized she actually was the only person I’d ever met who fit all of these qualifications. She was someone I would date if she was local. Meanwhile, she made it pretty clear she was really, really into me, which was also something that had never really happened to me before. If people have been into me before (which I still doubt, but who knows), they haven’t made it clear. If they thought they were making it clear, they didn’t realize that I am someone who needs heavy, heavy hints in order to understand flirting, even when I see it happening to other people. But luckily my girlfriend is pretty great at making what she wants clear. She made it really clear she wanted me.

So, well, things happened. I told her I wished that we could date and she could be my girlfriend. She asked why we couldn’t. I told her I thought the distance thing was an obvious problem. She didn’t think it was. So then I had a girlfriend, and she did too.

The end.

PS I love her.

[trustsalvatorewriting]

crush culture || kendall knight - chapter one

Summary: In which Kendall Knight has a crush on a girl who plays the drums at a local cafe

Word Count: 2,356

______________

❝ you make me feel like a teenager in love, you make me feel like i'll be forever young❞

KENDALL GROANED AS HE HEARD A CRASH FROM OUTSIDE HIS BEDROOM, throwing a throw pillow over his head to block out the noises and lights. He'd had to go into the studio yesterday for nearly twelve hours trying to fulfill one of Gustavo's checklists, and about halfway through, he'd started developing a migraine. He'd shrugged it off the night before and tried to sleep it off, but it had somehow gotten worse overnight.

    Thankfully, he would have the day off, as he'd managed to get a few harmonies done the day before. He reached toward his navy blue curtains and pulled them over the sunlight leaking in through his window, laying still as he waited for the noise in the apartment to die down.

    It was moments like this that he longed for his life in Minnesota. While he was thankful that he'd been given such a privileged life in California, he knew that if he hadn't gone to the auditions with James six months ago, he would've been at the ice rink at the moment, practicing for a hockey scholarship. He wouldn't have learned the meaning of 'stress migraine,' and he definitely wouldn't have had to leave his apartment to get a decent cup of coffee.

    When he finally forced himself out of bed, he was met with an empty coffee machine and an empty bag of ground coffee. Kendall all but slammed his head into the kitchen pantry, throwing the bag into the garbage disposal and reaching for his phone. In truth, he wasn't even completely sure where the nearest cafe was, but he remembered his mom mentioning that there was a small one at the hippie grocery store on Rosé.

    'God, that's such a Hollywood name,' Kendall thought to himself as he ordered his taxi. Once it confirmed, he quickly changed into a hoodie and jeans, sliding his keys into his back pocket. He headed for the taxi the moment he saw it drive into the parking lot, only giving slight nods to his friends as he rushed to get his coffee.

    Thankfully, the driver hadn't tried to start any conversations, allowing him to sit in the backseat in silence. He leaned his head against the window, shutting his eyes as he tried to block out the sunlight. It felt as though direct sunlight would set fire to the back of his eyes.

    As the driver pulled into the front of the grocery store, Kendall winced at the slight jerking movement of the vehicle as it came to a halt. He handed a fifty dollar bill to the driver and stepped out, pulling his hoodie over his head as he stared at the oddly hippie grocery store, complete with plants hanging outside the building and a green-painted sign with the name 'Williams' painted in white letters.

    Kendall lightly rolled his eyes at the California culture, making his way into the store and heading for the cafe area towards the back. It was a completely different atmosphere from the coffee places and grocery stores they'd had in Minnesota, and while he likely would've figured that out sooner, he'd spent the majority of his time in California stuffed in a recording studio.

    As he approached the cafe, he noticed a few bookshelves towards the wall, filled with journals and cooking books, and whatever else California people liked to read. He walked toward the counter and noticed a short girl sitting behind the register, a dazed look on her face as she rhythmically tapped her fingers.

    "Uh, hey, could I get a cup of coffee?" Kendall asked, pulling his hoodie off his head. He'd made a slight effort to brush out his hair, but had given up after a while and shoved it ebenath a gray beanie.

    The girl snapped out of her thoughts and turned to face him, allowing him to get a view of her name tag: Emory. She smiled happily, soft brown eyes lighting up when she noticed him. "Hi! Welcome to William's Coffee House. What can I get you?"

    An involuntary smile came to his face when he heard her voice, but it quickly faded away when his eyes drifted to the menu. He fumbled with his words as he scanned the list of coffees, complete with lattes and espressos -- and what the hell was a macchiato? Kendall rubbed the back of his neck, confusion painted across his ivory features. "Uh... the coffee... kind?"

    Emory bit back a laugh and went through the buttons on the register. "I'll just get you a small black coffee, and you can add cream and sugar if you want."

    "Thank you," He sighed. He reached to grab a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, but she pushed his hand away quickly. Kendall looked u, dark eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

    "Don't even worry about it. It's on the house," She explained lightly, standing to go prepare his coffee. "You look like you've had a rough day."

    "Is it that obvious?" Kendall questioned, tugging at the edges of his beanie so they covered his temples. They felt like they were going to explode.

    She hesitated, reaching out to hand his coffee cup to him. She pursed her lips together, as if she were searching for the best words to tell him that he looked like he just crawled out from the garbage disposal. Emory winced at her own words as she said, "You're still cute."

    Kendall might've blushed if it weren't for the tightening feeling on the right side of his head.

    As he reached up to press his palms against his eyes, Emory questioned, "Do you have a migraine? I have Excedrin in my bag, if you want some. They're not crazy drugs or whatever."

    "Excedrin?" He pulled his hands away from his eyes to find her holding out a small bottle of acetaminophen. She smiled lightly and placed it next to her coffee. "Thanks."

    "No problem. I carry them around 'cause my brother and I get migraines a lot. One or two should be good depending on how bad it is," Emory advised. Kendall ignored her and shook three pills out of the bottle. "I mean, or you could do that."

    The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile as he went to take the three excedrins and swallow them down with the hot coffee. He winced at the taste, setting it down.

    "Didn't you say you wanted cream and sugar?" Emory questioned, pointing at the cup.

    Kendall deadpanned at the sight of the cream and sugar, throwing his hand onto the desk. Emory giggled and took the cup from him, shaking in a little bit of each ingredient. Her laugh was high-pitched, similar to a cartoon character's. He lifted his head slightly. "Cute laugh."

    Emory dropped the sugar packet into the cup. Her eyes widened and she quickly began preparing another cup. "I'm Emory."

    "Kendall," He responded. "That's a... unique name."

    "Thanks," She chuckled. "My Pops chose it. It's supposed to mean 'brave' or 'powerful' or something. I'm neither of those, which is why I'm working in a nearly empty café at eleven in the morning on a Friday."

    "Three-day weekend," Kendall shrugged and took the cup from her. He smiled, his migraine already beginning to fade away.

    She nodded and sat down in a stool behind the counter. Emory didn't have the nerve to tell him that her dads had named her other siblings 'Silas' and 'Andromeda.' She also didn't have the energy to explain that her dads had given her one mental health day per quarter, and she'd used it today so she could skip out on volleyball. She was only 5'2" which made serving the ball practically impossible.

    For some reason, she'd wanted to impress him. She wasn't quite sure how to do that while she was sitting in a coffee apron, at the back of a grocery store, though. He was genuinely attractive -- the kind that you found on the cover of magazines and billboards. Complete with dirty blonde bangs, deep green eyes, and dimples. As dramatic as it sounded, Emory swore he would be the death of her.

    Kendall stole glances at her as she cleaned up the suddenly messy counter, and pretended not to notice when she glanced back. He hadn't been able to meet a lot of people in Hollywood -- at least, no one outside of the Palm Woods. Gustavo and Kelly had kept him under lock and key in the studio. It had been somewhat justified, of course, considering they were working on an album; but there were times where he missed working at the grocery store in Minnesota. Times where he would've preferred to be playing hockey with his friends, as opposed to learning the same dance moves over and over again.

    God, he felt privileged.

    "So, skipping out on school, pretty boy?" Emory had said it without even glancing up, but he could hear the smile in her words.

    "No, I, uh, have an off-day today," Kendall responded awkwardly. He wasn't sure how to explain that he'd completely forgotten about the essay he had to turn on by three o'clock today. "What about you?"

    "My dads let me take the day off," Emory explained. She caught her words immediately and winced, waiting for the backlash or questions she would inevitably receive. Even in California, the LGBT capital of the world, there were somehow always questions.

    "Dads, huh? What are their names?"

    "Johan and Gerard," She said hesitantly. He would ask about her siblings now, or whether her mom had died, or where she was adopted from. She held her breath.

    "That's cool."

    'What the fuck?'

    "Yeah, they're pretty great," Emory agreed, slightly confused but overall relieved by his reaction. He only gave her a calm look, implying that he was generally unbothered by the topic. She nodded in approval. "So, tell me about yourself, pretty boy."

    "What do you wanna know?" Kendall asked, leaning back in his chair. "I'm from Minnesota; I really love hockey and music; and me and my sister Katie were raised by a single mom."

    "What do you mean by 'you love music?'" Emory squinted her eyes lightly and sat down in the seat across from him, leaning forward. "Do you, like, play any instruments or are you one of those guys that listens to music and says they love it so they look really cool and pretentious?"

    "I'm in a band with my best friends. I think I'm pretty into music," Kendall chuckled. "I play, like, the smallest amount of guitar; but I mostly sing."

    "It's not a band of none of you play the instruments," Emory was quick to point out. "I'm in a small band with my foster sister, Evie. I play drums."

    "You play drums?" Kendall snickered. "And that's not fair. We're mostly singers."

    "Then you're a group, not a band," She shot back. "Yeah, I play drums. Is that hard to believe?"

    "You're just so tiny," Kendall laughed. "I couldn't imagine that."

    "Ever hears the phrase 'you're lucky you're cute?'" Emory questioned, to sing a sugar packet in his general direction. It hit the side of his flannel jacket, and she sighed internally. He was kind of making her eyes hurt at this point. She mentally went over all the reasons that it would be completely unethical for her to ask for his number, then all of the reasons that she would regret not asking for his number.

    Unfortunately, she wasn't given the time to come to a balanced conclusion. Kendall's phone rang and he took it out of his pocket, sending Emory an apologetic look as he did so. The moment he answered it, his mood seemed to falter, and by the end of the call he'd practically slammed his head against the wooden counter.

    "Uh, are you okay?" Emory questioned, lightly poking his shoulder as he hung up his phone.

    "Nope. My producer is calling me into work today, after he promised me the day off yesterday!" He raised his voice and yelled at his phone, despite the fact that the caller had hung up already. He peeked at Emory from between his fingers. "I probably look really weird right now."

    Emory nodded, her nose crinkling as she smiled down at him. "You do."

    Kendall sighed and lifted his head, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looked at Emory. "I should probably..."

    "Yeah. I wouldn't want you to get fired or anything. A face like that deserves to have screaming girls chasing after it," Emory said. She regretted her words immediately, questioning whether she'd spoken proper English just then.

    If Kendall noticed, he chose not to say anything about it. Instead, he went to stand and took a few paces away from the café. "I'll uh... I'll see you around?"

    'Ask for his number. Ask for his number. Ask for his number.'

    "Uh, yeah! You should visit again. I'll give you a discount on your coffee next time," Emory responded with a smile.

    "Yeah, I will. Uh... thanks, Emmy," Kendall nodded at her, before his phone went off in his pocket again. He groaned and pulled it out, practically yelling into the phone. "I'm coming!"

    Once he was out of sight, Emory groaned and laid her head down on the counter, covering her blushing face. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Gerard, who was covered in flour and baking ingredients.

    She sighed. "How much of that did you see?"

    Gerard rubbed his daughter's back comfortingly. "You'll get better eventually, Emmy."

    Emory deadpanned, letting out a sigh. The next time she would see him was on the cover of a magazine, being proclaimed the new teen heartthrob.

    If she knew she would get Silas' flirting skills by spending so much time around him, she might've tried to get him kicked out of the house sooner.

[carpsurprise]

i finally got some writing inspo!! here’s something for my fellow haley simps <3

plot: when haley feels indebted to the farmer for helping her find her great grandmother’s bracelet, she invites them over to give them a gift.

word count: 1.3k

notes: ok gn!farmer like usual but... mmm tried to do a lil something w/ haley’s character but that’s kinda if u squint!! i’ll also post this on ao3 just cause why not am i right?

The farmer knocked on the girl’s front door, waiting anxiously for someone to appear behind it. There was muffled talk behind the door. In a few short moments Emily opened the front door with a large smile, greeting the farmer with a quick side hug.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m getting ready for work,” she apologized, running back off to her room with haste. 

Haley had appeared next from the kitchen, a frilly apron tied around her waist and neck with a spatula in hand. “There you are!”

The farmer nodded, walking further into the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. Haley spun herself back around to check the timer atop the counter. She murmured to herself something about five more minutes before setting her weight against the counter with a smile.

“Thanks for coming, it’ll be done in just a few moments.”

“You made me food?” The farmer questioned, memory lingering back to the handwritten note that had made its way into their mailbox, covered in stickers and sweet perfume. 

She scoffed, trying to hold back a shy smile. “Well, yes,” she sheepishly admitted, “I wasn’t sure what else to do for you. I told you in the letter I wanted to try to show you how grateful I am for finding my great-grandmother’s bracelet.”

The farmer smiled at her, shaking their head gently. “Haley, really, it’s fine.”

“I need to show you I’m thankful. So many people wouldn’t have helped me out, and I understand why; but still, I’ve treated you like dirt and you still helped me out.” She kept herself quiet for a moment. “I don’t like the feeling of being indebted to someone.”

 There was no use in talking back to her, leading the farmer to quietly accept her gesture. She talked idly as the timer clicked rhythmically, mentioning the stickers she had adorned on her letter in passing with an excited expression. Emily had emerged from her room with her bag thrown over her shoulder, waving a quick goodbye to the farmer and to her sister. As she closed the front door, Haley turned her attention back to the farmer.

“I also made her some. She’s been pretty generous to me recently, I feel like I need to pay her back too. It’s always tricky when others are nice to me. Maybe I don’t like the feeling of being less than someone else,” she shrugged, “or maybe it’s nothing.”

Her self reflection had made the farmer spiral into their own thoughts. She hummed to herself unknowingly, turning herself back around and moving dishes in and out of the sink. The farmer looked at her apron. Haley’s initials were embroidered on the ribbon tied around her waist, likely a gift from her sister. Music was playing quietly from the living room, just barely above a whisper. The farmer turned their head from the living room to Haley’s figure.

“You’re a very kind person, Haley, I just don’t think you think of yourself that way.”

She placed the dishes down suddenly, all of them clattering against each other in the sink. Seconds of silence had passed before the timer snapped to a stop, ringing its shrill ring. The surprise of the timer had made Haley jump slightly, leading her to grip the edge of the counter for a couple breaths. Despite her new sudden behavior, she turned around with a smile, her hair flying with her. “It’s done!”

Haley pulled the oven mitts over her hands, bending over into the oven with a shaky breath. She nearly dropped the dessert onto the counter, ensuring it was on a stand before pulling her covered hands back and waving them by her sides with an exasperated sigh. Pulling the door of the oven closed, she messed around with the controls, shutting it off and throwing a smile to the farmer over her shoulder. 

“Just gonna let it cool for a sec before I bring it over!” She called, grabbing knives and forks to set in front of the farmer and the empty chair across from them. The farmer left a lingering look on the second set of silverware, their eyes trailing up to look at her inquisitively. “What? I never said anything about giving the whole thing to you.”

This seemed more like Haley. The farmer peered over at the dessert, and the ceramic pan that only half hid the farmer’s thank you present. The top looked like baked crust, easily giving away what Haley’s gift was. She rushed over to the pan, pulling the oven mitts over her hands once more and moving the pan to the center of the table. It was what the farmer had guessed it to be: a pie, but decorated much better than they had expected from Haley’s abysmal baking skills.

The farmer tilted their head, marveling at the cut out hearts and braids atop the pie. “Wow, Haley! This looks amazing, I almost don’t even want to eat it.”

“You most definitely are, that’s for sure,” she teased, sitting down across the farmer. She brought her finger to the crust gingerly, poking it gently to see its texture. She nodded to herself, still propped up on the table with a sweet smile. “We’ve got, like, thirty minutes to kill before we can eat it.”

She sat back in her chair, beginning to chat with the farmer about herself and them, and the upcoming fall festival. Haley talked about what a bore it usually was and how she only truly cared for the pigs and other farm animals that Marnie would bring. The farmer talked about their planned grange display, trying their best to make it interesting for Haley’s sake. Thirty minutes had passed, leaving Haley more giddy by the moment to have the farmer try her pie.

Haley cut the farmer a slice of pie, insisting it was her responsibility to do so, also cutting herself a piece and placing it on her plate with little care. The farmer grabbed a fork, pausing and looking at the spilling contents of the pie. They looked at Haley, who had followed their train of thought and made it apparent on her face.

“Apple pie?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Like the apples you had asked for me to give you a couple days ago?”

Haley had already put a piece in her mouth, nodding to not speak with her mouth full. It was good timing, leading the farmer to think it must have been intentional. They nodded with her, matching her slow, yet knowing nod. The farmer stuck their fork into it, the warmth and flavor making them sigh through their nose with a delighted roll of the eyes. Their reaction had made Haley perk up, loving the silent compliment of her baking. 

She swallowed quickly, propping her elbows up onto the table with a bright smile. “It’s good?” The farmer nodded. Haley kept her smile, flipping some of her hair behind her shoulder and bringing another piece up to her mouth. “I’m so glad, but it’s definitely— at least partly— due to your apples! Those things were so good, I couldn’t keep Emily off them!”

“Thank you,” the farmer spoke in between bites, wanting to continue the conversation without the temptation of more apple pie. 

“So, are we even?” 

The farmer rolled their eyes and brought a napkin up to their mouth. “Haley, I’ve already said you don’t need to do anything for me in return. It’s completely fine, you don’t owe me anything.”

Haley shook her head, biting back her smile. “Hmm, how upsetting. I guess I’ll have to do something else for you so you agree with me.”

[the-lighwood-who-lived]

Death wishes and Sorries

A mortal instruments/ Shadowhunters fanfiction.

Summary: A short reader x jace drabble.

The mortal war was over, I thought now at least I wouldn’t have to worry about my brother and my boyfriend so much! Most definitely, I was wrong! I had gone to get comics with Simon when Izzy, my parabatai and my sister, texted me saying a bloodied up Jace and Alec were finally back from their insanely long mission.

Obviously, I decided to rush back to the institute. Simon said he’ll take care of the comics I’d chosen, at least someone is nice! I was back at the institute as fast as New York rush would allow me. As I rushed to the medical wing, hoping and praying that those two idiots had the common sense to go here, no one questioned me. Once I reached there, I pushed the door open to find both Jace and Alec on consecutive beds while Izzy was talking to the nurse. Both of them smiled at me sheepishly while I shot them a glare making my way to Izzy.

“So… How bad is it?” I asked

“They’ll be good enough for us to kick their asses again in about a week.” She said, “you however, should talk to them” she added with that don’t-you-dare-argue-with-me look.

I sighed and went up to them. I crossed my arms and stood in front of them, staring them down.

Alec gave in first and said, “would you stop that? We’ve already been beaten up enough.”

“Yeah, Alec’s right!” continued Jace, “Izzy said our bleeding was only internal… that’s where blood is supposed to be!”. Alec cursed out loud as my eyes widened. “You guys ended up with internal bleeding!” I yelled.

“Would you please calm down? We’re fine now, aren’t we?” Alec said, trying his best to sound professional. He always seems to soften at anything his younger sisters say.

“That’s the point Alec! You both could have died! Did you even consider how that would affect me and Iz after Max! I get that we are Shadowhunters, we can die any day, anytime; But that doesn’t mean you roam around with a death wish u blithering idiots!”

As I realised what I had just said, a portal opened up in front of me and out came none other than Magnus Bane, my best friend, and possibly, my future brother-in-law. He looked at me and asked a little annoyed, “Why wasn’t I informed!?”. Seeing as I was in no mood for senseless bickering, he seemed to get a little serious, “What did you say?” he asked. “I might have gone to the extent of mentioning Max.” I said with a sigh. I turn back to Alec and Jace and say, “Guys you know I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry… its jus that I don’t want y’all to die. Alec, you’re the big brother I will always need and Jace, … I’m in love with you for crying out loud!”

Alec, who was slightly less bloodied up than Jace walked up to me and held me. I buried my face into his jacket as I mumbled sorries over and over again.

“We know y/n” said Jace softer than before. He gestured me to come sit by his bed, which I did. “I’m sorry, the mortal war has affected you much more than anyone else, I’m sorry for not keeping that in mind. You know what, how about we do that movie night you’ve been planning since the day I met you?” he said. Iz squealed in excitement, “FINALLY!” she said. I looked at her and said, “in due time Izzy, first, I need to teach my boyfriend something called biology.”

At that moment Clary walked in with Simon and my comics. “What did I miss?” she said, confusion written all over her face. Izzy let out a laugh before saying, “what did she miss she says….”

“Well then, since we’ve covered death wishes and sorries, how about some Cassata?” said Magnus in his usual nonchalant tone, before making his -as always- super cool exit. "How does he always do that!?" I yell

[jamiedc-they-them]

Who you used to (and can no longer) be (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: Dany x Brother reader, maybe reader was caught by Cersei and is reunited with Dany. idk its a stretch but it came to mind. it can be angsty or nah whatever u want, B

  It had been a while since you’d seen anything but the small reflection of light from a torch on the cell door. It had been a while since you had heard anything but the rats in the cell that you were thrown into months ago or the creaks of the door or the rustles of your chains.

You got a new sound, that being of the door opening. You also got a bit lighter, for a moment that was. The door was then slammed closed, and a voice that was anything but new spoke.

“Still awake? Hm, I have to give you the fact that you’ve lasted longer than I thought you would,” The taunting voice of Cersei Lannister spat as she approached you, goblet of wine in her hand as always, “Then again, you were always the odd one out, weren’t you? The little Targaryen runt? I do have to wonder though, what your whore of a sister will do to get you back?”

She came even closer to you, now towering over you, “See, the families all live up to their sigils, don’t they? Lannister’s as lions who tear their enemies apart; the Starks, the lucky wolves in a pack who can survive the winter; then there’s the Targaryen’s,” She poured the wine onto you, aggravating your wounds.

“As the feisty, fiery dragons, with so many scars. What’s one more though? Although, I’m sure to your sister, it would make all the difference between you being worth saving and you being left behind to rot. But we’ll see.”  

 It had been a while since Danny had been able to sleep. It had been a while since she had been able to think straight and not have her mind on something other than the fact that her brother was still missing.

It had gotten to the point where she had accidentally called Jorah, Y/N. The man hadn’t minded, of course, he politely corrected her and moved on. Still, it showed. It showed how much of her mind was chipping away at a plan to get you back and safe.

“My Queen,” Daenerys turned to Tyrion, the one who had called her name, “Maybe we should make preparations for when we get Lord Y/N….Make preparations for as to how to proceed.” He suggested, struggling to find a correct way to phrase it without triggering and setting her off.

“What do you mean?” She questioned, blunt and with a bit of fear and tremble in her voice.

He looked to the others for a moment before proceeding, “I just mean, that Lord Y/N will not fully be the same Y/N we knew before his capture…We’ll need to tread lightly. He will be traumatized.”

“But he’s still my brother.” Danny said without hesitation, firmly.

“He doesn’t mean it in offence, your grace,” Missandei said, trying to clear things up, “What he – we mean, is that Y/N will be different, and we need to be aware of that.”

Danny nodded, “We will, but I know Y/N, and I will do what is best for him.”

They didn’t meet eyes, but the others could tell that it wasn’t exactly true. She’d work on a phantom form of you.

One that didn’t exist anymore.

 “Your grace!” A soldier said as he entered the throne room, holding a folded piece of paper, “I have….” He took a moment to catch his breath, have you seen how many steps their were to get to the throne room?

“.I have news on Y/N, Cersei Lannister has him! She wants to meet!” He yelled, giving a brief synopsis of the letter.

Wow, this really wasn’t royal at all, was it?

Then again, the soldier seemed to know that, when it came to you and your safety, royalty was thrown out the window.

Daenerys stared at the soldier in shock. It seemed that the plan that she had devised on her own was also out the window.

 “It’s obviously a trap, if anyone knows my sister well enough to know one of her devious schemes, it’s me.” Tyrion made his thoughts on it known. Don’t go.

“Of course, it is,” Grey worm then turned to Danny, “You shouldn’t go, my Queen. Or, if you do, at least bring some guards with you. I’ll find you my best men –”

“No,” Her words stunned all the room, “Cersei asks for me, she gets me alone. I’m not risking Y/N: I’m not losing the only family I have left.”

She knew it was risky. She knew that this could just be something that would end up with the two last Targaryen’s                 being killed. But she also knew that she couldn’t just leave you.

She had to bring you home, to make you feel safe once again.

 It was the dead of night but hearing Tyrion gasp and knock chairs over made everyone rush to the meeting room. There, it held everyone bar one.

Daenerys.

“She left.” He announced in a solemn tone.

There was no stopping her now.

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Being the youngest made Daenerys’ motherly side show itself so much more than it ever had. Or, unfortunately, more than she ever got the chance to show it. Losing her child was hard, don’t get her wrong; to lose a life she would never know and that would be her own by blood and fix the mistakes.

Now, you were that. You were the thing she had to protect, no matter what. It had started with your brother, his abuse that went more to you as a way to punish her; two birds and all that.

Her maternal instincts made her help comfort you; it helped her help treat your wounds; it helped her be more empathetic; it helped her get through it, putting her mind of helping her younger sibling through the pain kind of helped her through her own.

 She had to admit, the small crew she had brought for the boat did a good job. Was it the most royal of arrivals? No, but she couldn’t play the trump card of the dragons yet. She had to get you back with as little hassle as possible.

Power play’s from her could wait. It could wait until she had you to help council her on it. You were always a smart one smarter than her and always willing to listen to others while arguing your own view.

She was losing it, she had to admit. Hell, she’d sailed all the way with barely any protection, so that wasn’t nothing. Still, if this was it, she didn’t want to make it worse for you.

If this was it, at least you’d be together in the end. The Targaryen siblings vs the world; the world might win, but it wouldn’t win without you both giving it one last chilling smile of acceptance.

“You’re hear to see Queen Cersei?” The guardsman asked. If he had any other right to speak, he probably would’ve mentioned the lack of guards. Still, part of Daenerys appreciated the fact that he didn’t, that he simply let it go and led her up at her nod.

Yes, she was here to see the queen. No, she was not there to burn it all down.

At least, not yet, anyway.

 The stones were sharper here. In Dragonstone, it had a smoothness to them that made it feel like you were almost gliding on them. It definitely helped make it not feel as big as it did, steps wise.

These were different, these were jagged and edgy; small bits pointing out that dug in a few instances. Definitely not well kept.  

Still, that was put aside when she reached the top. In reaching it, she saw you on the floor. She finally got a good look at you. In the dreams (and nightmares) she’d have of finding you, it’d always be you either looking normal or you being too bloodied to recognise.

This was a mix but leaning a lot more towards the dreams than the nightmares (which, unfortunately, came more often than the dreams did). You were bloody, just in your nose and a cut on your lips; your eyes weren’t too bad, if not a little fucked up from punching.

Over than that though, you were breathing and alive. When you met eyes, you looked scared more than relived. Then again, she was riding a high of relief at just seeing that you were ok.

Now came the part where she kept you and herself that way.

 “I must admit, I didn’t expect you to arrive,” Cersei said as she sipped her wine, “Then again, when one of your flock are hurt, the others huddle around them, don’t they?” She taunted.

However, the fire in her eyes died a little when she saw that it was just Danny, “Came alone, did you? It could’ve been a trap.”

Still could be, “It may have been, but I wasn’t going to just abandon my brother. Just as I’m sure you wouldn’t.” She knew it was borderline flattery. But she had to not piss her off.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Danny asked, fire completely gone from her eyes and a soft gaze replaced it; one filled with love and familial concern. She was dead certain that these types of looks (ones of comfort and respect and love) were something that you had been sorely missing.

There was silence at her answer. You looked as if you hadn’t even heard her question. She, however, didn’t lose hope. You were still in there somewhere.

“Boy,” You looked to Cersei with a shaking body, “Answer your sister.” She commanded.

You looked at Danny, eyes fearful and slightly unfocused. You only nodded, all-be-it slowly.

“Verbally.” Cersei said, not in a snap, but a calm voice.

“I’m alive.” You croaked out.

“Louder.”

“I’m ok.” Your words finally reached Danny, and she could hear just how unused your voice had been. It was raw, and it had cracked.

She could see that you clearly weren’t. But she could deal with that later.

  “Why did you ask for me if it wasn’t a trap?” Daenerys asked.

Cersei paused, her face showing that it was a valid question, “Because, I wanted you to see what a broken Targaryen looks like. The mess that they can be. The pain that they can be in. You see, when you do fully come here, to try and take what you believe is yours, maybe you’ll remember this.”

 “He hit me.” You were shaken, still shaking as you sat on your bed and your older sister knelt in front of you.

She took your shaking hands in her own, “He did, yes.” She said, regretfully.

“Why? What did I do to make him hate me.” Your question broke her heart a little.

“You did nothing, dear brother. Nothing. It’s all his ego,” She comforted. She knew, sadly, that the damage had been done. But she knew one thing, she wasn’t going to let it destroy you.

Not you.

 “You can have him,” Danny looked at Cersei in shock, “Take it as a warning. As a precautionary tale.”

 Danny didn’t waste any time in coming to you and picking you up. She didn’t look at Cersei, only you. She then hugged you. You stiffened but didn’t hug back. She didn’t seem to mind much though. She just held you tightly.

She had you, and you were back with those you belonged with.

Now she just had to return home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride back, you sat in your room. Well, you laid in your bed, more like. You only ate when she would bring you food. She wanted to be the one to do it, she knew that you wouldn’t respond to anyone else.

She didn’t try and get you to speak. She knew that you wouldn’t want to and trying to force you to would only lead to more problems.

Still, at least she didn’t have to order the crew not to bother you: they seemed to just know from the get-go.

 “I have no choice in this.” She told you, trying to not allow her voice to tremble and show you the fear she felt. She had to be strong for you.

“I can’t just lose you.” You said in quiet voice. Your fear ruled you. Whenever you had been hurt, she had been there to help you; to help you rise back up when you fell.

Now, that would be gone.

She glided to you, kneeling once more to your level. She put her fingers under your chin and lifted it up, “Whatever happens, we go together. I’m never leaving you, little brother. Never. I’ll protect you as much as I can.” She promised you and pulled you into her arms.

You hugged her back, fearfully.

 The boat arrived, and there stood four or so angry advisors. Well, angry and relieved. Danny walked slowly, holding your hand and arm, and helping you walk down the ramp. She had almost not done this, as you had flinched and pulled your arm away when she went to touch.

However, after a moment, you had allowed it. She led you down, fully concentrated on your wellbeing. She didn’t take any notice of her friends. She only said one thing to you.

“We’re home.”

 The tent was big, but that didn’t matter to you. It was lonely. You were lonely. However, you didn’t tell her; you knew she had enough on her plate, and your issues would only add to that.

“Hey,” You looked up at her soft eyes that seemed to notice your turmoil, “We’ll be fine. We’ll make it through this to the other side, together. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

 “I kept it the same. I didn’t want to touch anything just in case you wanted to make any changes yourself.” You nodded mutely as you entered your room. In the past, it would be a place of comfort, a place where you could feel almost free. This was not that. This place felt foreign and the warmth was something you were used to, just in a torturous way.

The first thing you did was close the curtains.

“You used to love that in the morning.” Your sister didn’t know why she said those words; but she still had.

“Maybe, but not anymore.” You used to be quiet, but this was the quietest she’d heard you.

 She remembered the first time she had been forced to have sex with Drogo. The way he was in charge and she whimpered. She had still been holding out some sort of hope that she could get away from his.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to. She knew she had to adapt.

So, she did. She gave into it. She gave into him. Deep down, she was still the scared little girl who had been dealing with her own trauma. But that girl was repressed more and more.

In the name of survival.

 She had woken on a brand-new day. She woke up with some vigour this time, just happy to have everything back to normal in a way.

She got up and ready for the day, taking in the view from her room.

She then left to fetch you. She felt like a walk would maybe help you a little. They had in the past after all.

However, when she knocked on your door, she received no answer.

“Y/N, it’s me.” She said softly, hoping that announcing that would help you.

Still, the door did not open.

When she went to knock again, she stopped herself when she put her ear to the door only to hear nothing inside.

She put her hand on the handle, turning it. It went all the way; the door was unlocked.

She opened it fully, and her eyes widened, and her breath quickened at what she saw, an empty room.

 She didn’t think she could run this fast, yet here she was. She was yelling orders, “Find Y/N!” Was the main one she was able to track.

You were missing again, but this time it was voluntary.

Now, she just figure out where you had gone. Where you had taken yourself to.

She stopped, letting oxygen fill her lungs. As she took deep gulps, she pressed her back against a wall and took a moment to think; to actually think.

 “Come on!” You cried out in excitement as you led your sister by the hand to your destination.

“Slow down, Y/N.” She tried to be serious, but your happiness made her have a smile of her own at your enthusiasm. You had always been a more pessimistic one, but these moments that could last for a while and bursts of happiness made herself happy.

“Here.” You said, stopping and lowering your hands, pulling her towards you.

Ahead of you laid a lake. It wasn’t the largest, or the deepest. But, still, a small lake was a small lake.

The sun seemed to catch the water just right and it shimmered.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s beautiful.” She said, softly. She took the view in. This beat anything from her window for sure.

 That was the day before you were taken. It was a memory that she both played over and over again, but also wanted nothing to do with it.

Now it was the key.

She knew where you were now. Only thing was, the context of your visit had changed. Just like you had had.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was right, you were there. You were sat down instead of stood. She watched you for a moment. Actually, saw you for who you were now. Yes, you were still her brother, but you had changed.

She approached you, taking a seat next to you. For once, she didn’t try to force anything. Instead, she just looked at the view, taking in the head and the peacefulness of the place. It was nice.

“I started to have visions while I was there,” She was the now the one looking up at you. However, she didn’t talk, “I couldn’t tell you when I started to do that. It just kind of….happened. Moments where I would see things that a rational part of me knew wasn’t there, but that part was destroyed by the part that wanted it to be real.”

“Who did you see?”

“A mix of you and the others. To be honest, mostly you,” You looked at her as you continued, “You’ve always been the one to look after me. And I appreciate it, so much. But, since I got back, it’s….it’s just been too much. You’re acting as if I’ll snap right back to who I was, but I won’t. I can’t.” You confessed.

“I know….I know,” She let her voice shake this time. She wasn’t going to hide her emotions anymore. You were old enough and knew enough about to world to know the feelings she had, the fear, the pain, and the loss.

“I’m sorry that I did that.”

“We’ll get there. We’ll get there.” You assured; but it seemed it was more so for yourself.

“What can I do right now?” She asked.

“Just….just stay.”

“Of course.” She assured.