#I hate clothes shopping so much that we are nearly at the point of being desperate.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Off topic, but do any persons who buy plus sized clothing and are familiar with The Avenue know of any similar places that still have in-person stores on the West Coast? The Avenue is the only place I've ever been able to buy shirts that I like, and they closed all their physical stores in 2019.

Torrid's shirts are much too short for me and often too narrow in the shoulders.

[trashboatprince]

I've been thinking on this for a while now, and I decided to rework the beginning of the sea monster wives au.

Especially with the new ideas I have for it.

So, here's a new, updated version of how Aziraphale and Crowley meet.

On with the fic!

--

The letters creased in the tight hold of Aziraphale's fingers as she read them over a fifth time.

They still said the same thing as they had the previous four times, in the two familiar scripts and words of her brothers. It was the same message, one more friendly and apologetic than the one, which was more stern and to-the-point.

'We will not be arriving back to England like we had promised.'

Jim had been kinder in his letter, but Gabriel had written to her as if she were an associate from a partnering company that he worked with.

Her eldest brothers, Gabriel James and James Gabriel (Jim, as he preferred), were in charge of their family's shipping and trading companies, currently doing business in America. They had been over there for over a year now, and had promised they'd return by the time Aziraphale would be reaching the age of twenty-six, which was in a few months.

But Aziraphale should have known better, promises are just words that can easily be broken with the twins. Jim was so sorry, having said that while he would love to return to see his dearly loved sister, Gabriel was not letting him return home for something like this. Business was booming in America, Jim had to be there to help!

And... well... from what he had written in his letter, Jim had met someone. The heir to a very successful meat processing venture, Bea Prince, apparently things were going well with the courting. Aziraphale could not fault her brother for staying not just because Gabriel told him to, but because his heart was full of love.

She was herself a hopeless romantic, she adored romance and such. However, she only really experienced it through the characters in the books of her shop. She had never really felt anything for anyone.

Well.

While love wasn't really in the picture, attraction was. Attraction that her family was very much against. The youngest child, the only daughter, in the Eastgate family, could not prefer the company of women over men!

It was bad enough that Aziraphale was pushing her luck with wearing trousers and clothing more inclined for gentlemen than ladies, if she were even to feed her appetite for the fairer sex, she'd be sent to a nunnery!

Or she'd be forced to marry someone her brothers picked. Michael had threatened her with this when he had spotted her being a bit too friendly to a young woman in town some years ago. And Michael's threats had the power of a military captain behind them, considering that was his rank.

Even if she didn't have feelings for women, the thought of arranged marriage was always looming over her head. Gabriel and Michael had been talking before the eldest Eastgate had left for the United States. They had been discussing Aziraphale's age, and how she was practically a spinster.

They had talked about marrying her off to someone.

She had nearly burst into the drawing room of the family's estate home, nearly screamed and shouted and acted like a child.

But she held her tongue, and continued to eavesdrop.

Until she heard a name of a potential suitor and she left.

Mr. Salt, her brother's main business partner, after Jim. He was smarmy man with gold teeth who liked to be a little too close to Aziraphale's seat whenever he came over for dinner. She hated him more than she had ever hated a person.

He was a constant in her life, especially right now, with her brothers away. He was running the business from its main base here on Tadfield Isle, and he was constantly over at the family home. Practically moved in the day her brothers left the port! Michael and his wife, Uriel, were not thrilled, but put up with it due to Gabriel saying it was perfectly fine.

Aziraphale stopped living at home two months after this, and had been living in the flat above her bookshop just to avoid him. Except for Wednesdays and Sundays, when she was required to attend family dinners at the estate.

Mr. Salt did not like her living at the bookshop, in fact, he was quite vocal about how she shouldn't even own the place.

'A young lady has no need for a job! Her place is at home!' He had told Gabriel, who nearly agreed, especially to the idea of selling it. But Jim had put his foot down, saying that it was Aziraphale's, left to her by their grandfather, who loved books just as much as she did. It was in her name, it was hers.

Jim was always in her corner, he was a good man, even if he could sometimes be a dim as a dying oil lamp.

With a sigh, Aziraphale pocketed his letter. The one from Gabriel was held between her fingers before she let it go, watching it fly away with the wind.

She stood silently on the beach, watching the piece of paper move through the air, as if it were dancing.

The beach was her quiet place, like her shop. Only it didn't have the occasional annoyance of a customer, it just had birds that sometimes tried to eat her nibbles she'd bring. It was a small cove a distance from town, a private place that no one ever came to because it was hidden away, ugly and rocky, but it had a charm to it that Aziraphale liked.

Like the cave hidden in the cliff side nearby, the tide pools, the cute crabs she liked watching.

And the quiet, peacefulness of it, where no one could bother her.

She watched the paper as it landed on the water's surface, near the end of the line of weather-worn rocks that reached into the sea.

And that's when she saw it.

Something red and black, right at the furthest rock. Curiously, she watched it, what was it? Debris? An article of clothing floating on the water? A fish of some sort?

No... it looked like hair, with some sort of strange, black plant coming out of the tangles.

The black things fluttered as the paper drifted closer to it, and then something grabbed a paper.

A hand.

Aziraphale's eyes widened and she found herself moving close to the shore.

"H-hello?" She called out.

She watched as the red thing tore into the paper, then suddenly made a harsh sound. Paper was spat out, and what was still grasped was snarled at.

"Hello?!" Aziraphale called out again, now worried, but her curious nature was getting the better of her.

Could this be someone in danger? The hand certainly looks human, even if the skin seems... strange. And the red stuff does look like hair...

But there was a rumor going around town, told by the salty, old sea captain with a weird hatred and fascination with witches, Shadwell, that he had seen and captured a mermaid. Until this 'mermaid' fought back and escaped his fishing boat some weeks ago when they had that massive storm.

Adam Young and his little group of friends had even claimed to have seen the 'mermaid', but they could just be messing with Shadwell, as they tended to enjoy getting him riled up.

Aziraphale was open minded to the wonders of the world, there was always a kernel of truth to folklore and myths, but a mermaid sounded so... outlandish.

And yet...

The strange thing in the water moved fast when it finally heard her, hiding behind the rock.

"Oh, oh please, don't hide! It's... it's okay!" She said, removing her shoes and her stockings, moving to climb up on the rocks. They were a long line, a bit jagged, but flat enough that she could, carefully move across them. She'd done it tons of times over the years, she'd be fine.

Aziraphale got near the last rock, watching as the red stuff drifted through the water, it was hair, beautiful, bright red hair, darkened by the waters. A hand grabbed the rock, long, black claw-like nails scratched as it. She could see a strange thing between the fingers, a blushing red, it looks like very thin skin.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you." She said softly over the waved, though she felt ridiculous, sounded like she was talking to a scared dog.

Aziraphale got down to sit on the stone, looking at the hand and the hair, hearing something that sounded oddly like clicking and chirping.

The figure then slowly moved, letting Aziraphale see their face.

The figure was a deathly pale, with freckles scattered over their cheeks and nose, a mouth that was frowning, but the thin lips parted just enough to show unusually sharp teeth.

The black things from before were thin, like the skin between the figures, fluttering around what had to be ears hidden behind them and the red hair.

And eyes, golden and snake-like, stared at her in a way Aziraphale had never been stared at before.

Then they moved, and Aziraphale suddenly found herself on her back, staring up at the slightly gray sky, and the stranger.

The beautiful, frightening stranger, who continued to look at her with large, golden eyes.

And the frown became a smile.

A smile of shark teeth.

Aziraphale had found the so-called mermaid.

--

Aziraphale, meet your future wife, Crowley. :)

Yes, Jim is now a character in this, the only brother that actually likes Aziraphale. He'll be in support of his sister being in love with a monster, because Crowley makes her happy. And yes, Jim and Beelzebub are a couple in this.

[iamfruitie]

Caution and Care Pt. 6

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

A Sweet Start

Mad was happily reading away, leaning against Anti as they sat in the back of the car with an alpha named Chase. Wilford was driving, and Dark sat shotgun, typing away on his phone.

Chase had been on his phone with someone when they got into the car earlier, and he was now texting the person, seeming really focused on whatever the conversation was about. 

Anti tried to get a read on Chase during the nearly silent drive. He was an average size for an alpha, looking fairly similar to Jackie save for some more facial hair and his eyes being a darker shade of blue. He also had a streak of green in his hair, appearing to have been created with dye.

As if finally noticing the set of eyes staring at him, Chase turned his head, saw Anti, and quickly flashed a smile at him. Anti leaned away and hissed without a thought before catching himself and looking away in embarrassment. 

“Are we okay back there?” Dark asked, looking over his shoulder. 

“We’re fine,” Anit muttered, resting his head on Mad’s. 

“I’m about to pull into the lot. So you won’t be stuck much longer.” Wilford said as he used one hand to turn the steering wheel. 

“You make it sound like sitting with me is terrible.” Chase chuckled. 

“Depends on how much you’re talking.” Dark teased with his own chuckle. 

“Rude.” Chase tucked his phone into his pocket and took his seatbelt off as soon as Wilford parked. 

“We’re here.” Anti put Mad’s bookmark in and slipped the book from his hands. He tucked the book into the little back pocket on the seat in front of him. The group of five got out of the car and walked through the lot in a little huddle. Wilford and Dark walked in the front, Chase in the back, and Anti and Mad were in the middle. Anti had taken hold of Mad’s hand when they started walking. Being between the three alphas made Anti uneasy, hating how it reminded him of when he and Mad were thrown out. He was on edge, prepared for Chase to grab them or for Wilford to turn and snap at them suddenly. 

“It’s okay,” Mad whispered, squeezing Anti’s hand and pressing their shoulders together. “We’re safe.” Anti couldn’t help a little giggle from coming out. Usually, he was reassuring Mad, not the other way around. 

“We’re safe.” Anti echoed with a smile. 

“Our goal is to get some clothing for Anti and Mad. We’ll visit a handful of different shops to see what best fits their tastes. Chase, we’ll be visiting the clothing store beside the jewelry store first. You can do what you wish to while we’re in that shop so that your hands are empty.” Dark laid out the game plan as they neared the doors. 

“Sounds good! Thanks, Dark,” Chase said, seeming to have perked up a lot when Dark said he was allowed to split off for a bit. 

“Thanks,” Anti said to Wilford when he held the door open for all of them, now taking up the back with Chase while Dark led all of them. 

“That first shop I’m thinking of is in the back. I figured we’ll head back there and make our way forward so when we’re finished, it’s not too much of a walk.” Dark explained to Anti and Mad. 

“Okay,” Anti said to ensure Dark knew they understood, but he turned his head when he felt Mad tug on him. He couldn’t help his own rush of excitement at seeing the candy shop Mad was pointing out. The two omegas made little noises that caught Dark’s attention, and he followed where the two were looking. 

“We can make a pitstop.” Dark gestured with his head and turned the group to head into the candy store. “Help yourselves.” He grabbed a few empty bags and handed them to Mad and Anti. 

“Really? As much as we want?” Anti asked. 

“As long as you don’t try to take the whole store.” Dark chuckled, smiling as he watched Mad pull Anti away, and the two started looking at the almost endless shelves of candies. 

“Those two already have you wrapped around their fingers.” Wilford teased as he stood beside Dark. Chase grabbed a bag to get some candy as well. 

“They’ve been through hell. They deserve to have some fun.” Dark said. 

“And it’s fun to spoil some cute omegas. Should we have you go look at jewelry with Chase?” Wilford’s laugh turned into a light grunt when Dark elbowed his side.

“We helped JJ almost the same way when we brought him in. Don’t overthink it,” Dark said, straightening up when Mad and Anti walked up to him, each holding a full bag of candy. 

“Could you hold these? It’s hard to scoop with him.” Anti asked. 

“Of course.” Dark took the filled bags.

“Thank you,” Mad said before he and Anti ran off again. 

“Don’t overthink it,” Wilford said in a mocking tone. 

“Shut up,” Dark spoke through gritted teeth. 

“I got some of those gummy sharks for Marv,” Chase said as he joined the other alphas.

“Oh! I should get some of those peach rings for Jamesy.” Wilford snapped his fingers in realization before walking off. 

“So…I was wondering if-”

“Yes, Marvin can move in if he agrees to be your mate,” Dark answered before Chase could finish.

“For real!?”

“It would be easier to move him in than have you move out.” 

“You’re the best, man!” Chase pulled Dark into a hug and quickly let go when he got growled at. “Sorry.” 

“Marvin is already more than aware of what we do. So he won’t be in for a shock. He is welcome to join us, but he may continue his current line of work if he chooses to.” Dark said as he fixed his blazer. 

“You’re seriously the best. That’s one less thing on my list of worries.” Chase played with the twist tie on his bag of candy. 

“If there’s too much going on, I can take you off some jobs.” Dark offered with a raised brow. 

“No, no, no.” Chase waved his hands in the air. “I need to save up as much as possible. I want to get the best jewelry for Marvin.” 

“What alpha doesn’t?” Dark chuckled. “Satisfied?” He asked when Anti and Mad were back to him, two more filled bags of candy in hand. 

“Very!” Anti chuckled, taking the bag he had given Dark, and Mad did the same. Anti had a bag of chocolates and a bag of sour candies, while Mad had a bag of gummies and a bag of hard candies. 

“Let’s go check out and then continue our shopping,” Dark walked the two to the counter, feeling a little warmth in his chest at hearing Anti and Mad purring loudly, both beyond happy with their treats. 

Maybe Wilford had a point about them having Dark wrapped around their fingers. 

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Sorry, rambling again. Lack of sleep is getting to me…

Last night I ended up in an unexpected nearly 3hr long phone call. I had hurriedly sent a “Yikes, sorry I haven’t answered in 3 weeks. Been busy/exhausted, but wanted you to know I haven’t forgotten you. Gotta go fix supper.” kind of message. And then they called, so I got to eat after 10pm instead.

I dunno. I want to talk to people, but man it’s exhausting. Especially since it always feels so one sided. I have to make the supportive, listening noises, but rarely get any venting myself.

I do get it. My life isn’t as high drama with a large cast of characters. The stuff of soap operas, with plot lines overlapping and twisting into knots.

At one point they wondered if they had a medical issue causing them to feel depressed and tired, and after everything I heard it would have been shocking if they WEREN’T depressed and tired. Mom used to say sometimes people have good reason to be depressed. In those cases you need to do something about the circumstances even more than the chemistry.

Actually, there is another reason I don’t get to vent to her. The truth is I am too alien to her. I mean, she’s alien to me too, but I’m used to that. I am used to being understanding and sympathetic to people that baffle the hell out of me. I can make the right noises, even if I have no clue why the hell you care about something except that “It’s a thing they care about”.

I’m too alien. Maybe they are making the polite noises too as I talk about things they can’t understand. Maybe I just hear the way they are puzzled or disinterested. Maybe I sound just as fake. Maybe the distinction is I just know to care that they care even though I don’t care and they more simply don’t care but don’t want to seem not to care but would rather move on quickly to what they care about….

Okay, that sounds confusing! LOL

I mention I moved books all day, and the friend was like “why books?” Ummm, because 90% of my family’s belongs are books, magazines, and comics.

We are talking THOUSANDS of books. Not just shelves of books, not just stacks of books, but mountains of books. We have books everywhere. There are books in every room of the houses but the bathrooms (NEVER take books into a bathroom, but ALWAYS have books on the dinner table was a family thing). There are books in the storage buildings, in the barn, in the leaking shop, there are even rotting books (RIP, I miss you guys!) in the collapsed house, leaky storage containers outdoors, and the dead cars… My brother “hated” reading because he’s dyslexic BUT the other day I had to move at least 50 of his books and a bunch of mags and comics in his old bedroom. We are such “book people” that the book hater had more books than most anyone around here.

If I am moving “stuff” trust that much of it will be books. And arm loads of books get heavy fast! LOL

I don’t know other book people. I don’t see bookshelves full of books. I see shelves with maybe a few books, but the rest is stuff. Someone hearing me talking about having a lot of books once giggled and said they had a “stash”. We don’t have a stash….we have a library without the building!

But the truth is we really are extremely different. For her a walk in the woods is “an adventure”. For me it’s Thursday. For her makeup is something she wears everyday. For me makeup is that eyeliner I bought for 75% off and five months later still haven’t tried because I haven’t got a clue how you even put that stuff on without looking like a clown. She wears clothes because she thinks they look good. I wear clothes because of the stuff I rummage around for in my parents stuff, they mostly fit and can stand up to a mucky life. She’s got a complex family with many generations, and I’ve got family you can count on the fingers of one hand. I don’t use TikTok, go out to eat, care about gossip, blah, blah, blah….

But when she listens it can be stressful too. She also is rather…assertive? Sure? Pushy? I dunno. The aren’t quite the right word. She means well, but also thinks she knows best. Think a child trying to force a puppy to eat by holding it’s head into the food. The puppy may be starving, but it’s gonna wanna get free of the kid even more.

So when I have stuff weighing me down I don’t expect her to listen to me vent, and if she does I kinda wish I had kept my mouth shut.

For hours I listen and say the things she needs me to say.

It gets a bit tricky when a “Don’t you think?” Or “You don’t think I’m…” slip in there. People want agreement and validation when they say it. They want you to go “Oh, yes! I do agree little green men live among us!” or “No, I don’t think you are a bad at ice skating”. The fact you don’t believe in alien infiltration and that they have fallen over six times in the last five minutes while skating makes inherent honesty a bit dangerous. But I have a lifetime of diplomatic and nuanced honesty compensating for my unwillingness to ever lie.

When it was over she seemed like the conversation did her good. As for me, somehow I just felt more alone and isolated. I guess it makes sense. She felt heard and I felt….

Well, TBH, in most my friendships I’ve been the “listening” friend that’s a little too unrelatable once I try to take a turn at venting. It shouldn’t frustrate me so much. I dream at night of friends I can talk to without constant care and judgement, that I can say what I think and feel to, that sort of get me without trying to make me be them. But they are imaginary friends, shadows of what “a friend” means in my heart. I mean, FFS, my dream friends won’t give me a lift when I go to the repair shop or let me us their printer because I can’t afford to replace mine. Better a real friend that I can’t just talk freely to than no friend at all!!

I dunno if there is a real point to this. Maybe I just needed to vent a minute to all you friends, the folks half way between real and imaginary.

(Yes I KNOW you are mostly real people, with maybe the occasional bot thrown in. But you know what I mean. You are posts and messages in text on a screen I trust to be human, but without the face and voice to read along with the words.

The three worlds…Real, digital, and imaginary. Real has blood and hugs, engaging all the senses, capable of anythings. Digital has mostly words, but even when there are images and sounds, it’s all selected. Filtered to create an impression. Imaginary is lovely, allowing for whatever you need or what…except it can’t give you the surprise, the unexpected, the true delight of engaging with someone else. It’s cozy but lacks the spark of life.

Or one world where we fart just because bodies do that and everyone smells the stink. One where we fart and no one knows unless we tell them, usually as a joke. And one world where no one ever farts unless it’s has a narrative reason, and no one else knows unless we turn it into a story or art.

All of us exist in the real world, meet here in the digital, and projecting each other into our own imaginary worlds we’ve spun. )

[firelord-frowny]

Frowny, Frowny! What are these weird bugs that came in my building en masse and DIED?!

There were literally so many! This was just one part of one corner! (submission from @itsmerandi)

______________________

OK THESE ARE MY LITERAL LEAST FAVORITE ARTHROPOD ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH AND I WILL TELL! YOU! WHY!

These are called ~european chafer beetles.~ emphasis on the ~european~. They're a VERY invasive species, and look like smaller versions of a native and not NEARLY as annoying species, the may/june beetle.

european chafer beetles emerge from underground every year in late june/early july IN MASSIVE NUMBERS. like, they're only slightly less numerous than the 17 year cicadas. (ok thats probably a BIT of an exaggeration, but not by much.) They're strictly nocturnal, and are usually well hidden all day, and then come out at night where they gather in large numbers around light sources. they're also TERRIBLE fliers and will just fuckin bump and bang and crash into everything everywhere.

Now lemme tell you why i hate these pieces of shit. i HATE THEM and imma TELL YOU WHYYYYYYYYY oh my GOD!!!

Imagine: I'm like 7 years old. Cute as a button. Frolicking around a Marshalls while my mommy shops. I'm wearing my favorite lil red pants that are Way Too Tight because i've outgrown them but they're my favorites so i crammed myself into them anyway.

As i'm frolicking, carefree and Not At All Traumatized, I feel something itchy against the back of my right knee. Something's stuck in my pant leg! I'm like, oh, it's probably a twig, or a crumb, or something completely non-disturbing. right? RIGHT?

So i'm trying to get this itchy thing out of my pants and i literally just shove my whole arm down the back of my pants lmaooo and i'm walking around looking like a fucking doofus. i spent like 5 minutes trying to cram my hand down far enough to reach whatever was in my pants.

Eventually, I could feel it fall down and out my pant leg! So i'm like, oh yay! lemme see what it was!

AND IT WAS A FUCKING EUROPEAN CHAFER BEETLE, RANDI!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE WAS A FUCKING DEAD BEETLE SQUISHED AGAINST MY LEG IN MY FAVORITE FUCKING RED PANTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

randi. i. fucking. SCREAMED!!!!! and BURST into tears! and my mom is all, wtf!!!! and i'm pointing at this fucking beetle on the floor like "IT WAS IN MY PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANTS" and i cried and cried and cried oh my god i was SOOOOO DISTURBED!!!!

but oh, oh wouldnt it be SO NICE if the story ended there???

WELL IT DOESN'T. IT DOESN'T END THERE, RANDI!!!! IT DOESN'T! END! THERE!

Because ya know what? YA KNOW WHAT???

every. single. summer. for the next TEN YEARS!!!!!! at least ONE european chafer beetle would somehow find its way inside my clothes while i was wearing them! and i had the EXACT SAME reaction every single time! Scream and immediately burst into tears!!!!

the other two Worst Incidents i can clearly remember happened in the summers between 10th and 11th grades.

10th grade: My fam is out fishing on my dead uncles boat! we finish up the fishing trip, dock the boat at the marina, and then my mom and i went to go wait in the lil indoor area while my dad and brother cleaned the fish. the indoor area is a nice comfy lil place with couches and a pretty fish tank annnd im pretty sure i was spinning around in circles and enjoying the wide open space lmao im just being an overgrown kid, spinning around having a grand ol time. I decided to take off my lil jacket and swing it around while i was spinning because idk it just seemed like a goddamn fun thing to do!

RANDI!!!! as i took hold of the edge of my jacket to take it off, i felt my thumb touch something round and smooth and i just knew. i KNEW!!!! i KNEW what it was before i even saw it! and i SCREAMED and started crying and i flung my whole jacket off and threw it across the room and my mom is all WTF HAPPENED??? and i tell her it was a beetle! and she's like, no it wasn't! there's no beetle! and im like YES THERE IS!!! and sure efuckingnough, my mom goes over to examine my jacket and theres a FUCKING BEETLE INSIDE IT!!!! :( :( :(

the 11th (or maybe 12th? idk) grade incident happened on 4th of July when i went with ebone to the lil firework celebration in her neighborhood! by this time, i was WELL AWARE of the beetle threat, and i was hypervigilant and paranoid all night because i was wearing a cute lil strapless sundress and there were just SOOOO MANY WAYS a beetle could get inside it if it wanted to! so i was constantly like, hugging my arms real close to my chest to try to block any beetles from getting in, and/or i would sorta grab the bottom of my dress to sorta hold it tight against my legs so there was no room for any fuckin intruders.

then somehow????????? we wound up walking back to her place in nearly pitch black darkness through a forest???? i dont remember how or why that happened lmfao but the only light was a dim lil rinky dink cell phone light a la 2009 motorola razor lmaoooo and the whole time im like please god PLEASE GOD do NOT LET ME RUN INTO ANY BEETLES!!!!

and i was sooooo sure i'd escaped, randi. i was SO POSITIVE that i made it unscathed!

fast forward to after my mamma picks me up and im back at home. i gotta pee so i go to the bathroom. hike up my dress.

and feel against my fingers the grotesquely smooth and disturbingly flexible elytra of my most soulless and hideous enemy, the monstrosity that is the European Chafer Beetle. 😡Cue the screaming and crying.

TO THIS VERY DAY, as soon as i see one of those lil pieces of shit when im outside at night, i take my ass in the house RIGHT QUICK. i hate them. I HATE THEM OH MY GODDDDDDD! theyre not even supposed to BEEEEEE HEEERRREEEEE!!!!!!! WHYYYY DID THEY TERRORIZE ME SO!!!! I NEVER DID ANYTHING TO THEM! I'M A BUG LOVER! I LOVE BUGS! I DIDN'T DESERVE THEIR WRATH!!!!

but yeah, they're called european chafer beetles lmao.

[nickgerlich]

Young Guns

I suppose it is just intrinsically human to consider your generational cohort the best that ever was, and to be dismissive of all those coming along after you. Oddly, we become more accepting of the ones before us, if only because we have started to grow old ourselves, able to see a little more clearly.

And so we mock the music our successors find appealing, knowing full well that our parents (I am speaking of mine right now) hated rock-n-roll with a fervor. We mock their clothing, their hair styles, their desire to DoorDash everything, and the amount of time they spend on their phones doing everything else.

Of course, my people are called “Boomer" with ridicule and scorn, not a whole lot different from the hatred we lobbed at our parents. It’s normal, remember, even though that alone does not make it right.



With COVID slipping ever farther into the rear view (aside from a nagging number of cases still being reported), shoppers have returned to BAM stores. Well, except for Millennials, who reported in a recent survey that nearly three-quarters plan to maintain or increase their online shopping in the years ahead.



That’s probably not too much of a problem for mainstream retailers in the short-run, but as Millennials assume the roles that Gen-Xers and Boomers are in today, it could spell long-term problems. That’s another way of saying once the crusty old curmudgeons are gone, it could be tough sledding for BAM retailers.

I get all the intergenerational complaining, too, but I am blessed to be surrounded by young adults all the time in my profession. Not everyone can say that. I embrace the changes around me, but others less fortunate than me may not be so quick to hitch their wagons to the engine we call Change.

I prefer to go with the 1980-1996 time frame for Millennial membership, although there is not 100% agreement on this. It was only about a decade ago that the cut point was moved from 1998 back to 1996, which left my oldest daughter sorely disappointed. She is now a Gen-Z, although she lives and shops like a Millennial. Those on the cusp, either beginning or end, may exhibit traits of the other generation nearby.

The jury is out yet on Gen-Z, many of whom have not yet become shoppers in the adult sense of the word. If I had to bet, they will leave their Millennial brothers and sisters in the dust and do even more shopping online. Remember, these are the true digital natives, humans whom have known only one way of life thus far. They could have easily been born with a smartphone or computer mouse in their hand.

Given that the oldest Millennial—using the generally agreed-upon definition—is turning 43 this year, it means that this group is at or near their peak consumption years. Once you hit 60 and/or have an empty nest, consumption starts to decline, from the houses we buy, to the things we put in it. And if Millennials are inclined to continue shopping online without a thought, it means that retailers need to start planning for the declining emphasis on their actual shops.

I foresee, as we have discussed previously, more empty malls, and quite possibly standalone and strip mall shops as well. Vast ghost towns of commercial structures may blight our city streets.

It is a fool’s errand for any generation to expect subsequent ones to act just like them. You will fail, no matter how much you gripe about the ways they have chosen to define their generation. In other words, give it up. My generation has had its time in the sun. In fact, I’m pretty sure that we Boomers have enjoyed being the darlings of society ever since we were born.

After all, we broke all previous—and future—records for percentage growth rate. But that does not mean we are the kings and queens of our culture. We may be in the lofty position of owning much of our nation’s wealth right now, but that too will pass when we bequeath it to our heirs.

It just means there might be a lot of grumpy old men and women in the foreseeable future, bitching about how so many things have changed in their lives, and that things just aren’t the way they used to be. Get off their lawns, and turn down your music. Getting old sucks for sure, but your turn (I’m talking to my students now) will come and then you’ll be able to complain about all the younguns coming along.

Sure as the setting sun.


Dr “Talkin’ About My Generation“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[precariaviso]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙈

Piles of clothes litter the floor, the armchair, some even heaped in small mountains on the plush carpeted floor.

My wardrobe has always felt limited, my closet small, but now, with my walk in emptied and all of my designer clothing in assorted heaps, it feels massive. My possessions, expansive. Too many, too much to fit into the five steamer trunks my brother is allowing me.

I try not to scoff outwardly at the notion of allowance. What I am “𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥” when I am sacrificing so much. When I am taking my entire life and crushing it, compacting it, shrinking it down until everything I am is reduced to five trunks crossing the Atlantic Ocean… and yet I am the one who is bound by these ties of patriarchal allotment.

None of this was even my idea…

It was May 2021. The world was still on edge due to the virus but it was Father’s birthday, so Enzo and I had made the trip to the states from Palermo. Father, being the head of the Association, the Capo de Capi meant his birthday was always a overblown affair.

A rooftop bar in Manhattan. More food than we could possibly eat, drinks flowing, dancing, lots of shop talk in the dark corners and cozy sitting areas surrounding decorative fire pits. Flames flickered in shadows over the faces of the men while they discussed shipments and numbers. Their wives huddled together swapping recipes for American bastardizations of pasta and pizza that would clog their husband’s arteries and send them to an early cheese-covered grave.

I hated to admit it to myself, but as I had stood, leaning over the balcony, staring across the expansive illuminated outline of the New York City skyline, I had to concede to the fact that there was a… charm to this place. There was something about the impressive high rise buildings, the yellow taxi cabs, the never ending hustle and bustle that made the city attractive. It was a place where everyone wanted to be, and yet everyone here had somewhere else to go.

It was then, as I was reluctantly admiring the loud, dirty city that so many seemed drawn to, that I heard a voice from behind me.

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵... 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘮𝘱. 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺.”

I couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of my red painted lips that threatened an amused smile as I turned to see a man standing behind and to the left with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Casual. Relaxed. Somehow he looked both put together and disheveled. Dressed the part of all the men here, but little details gave him a devil-may-care appearance. No tie, the first couple buttons of his dress shirt undone. His sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and his hair wasn’t slicked back by an unnecessary amount of hair gel. The curly locks looked as if there had been an attempt at taming them, but they had a will of their own.

The man had swiped two glasses of champagne from the tray of a roving waiter and leaned against the balcony beside me and introduced himself as Vinny. Nickname basis immediately. Casual, familiar.

Our conversation had been surprisingly easy despite my multiple attempts to brush him off, he was intelligent and witty. Not at all like the other American men that surrounded us that night. He had pointed out several buildings that we could see from our high vantage point, and when he reached the Museum of Natural History he had asked if I had ever been.

“𝙉𝙤. 𝙄'𝙫𝙚… 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣.”

I had almost admitted to having always wanted to go, but scolded myself for nearly opening up to a stranger.

“𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵..”

“𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩? 𝙊𝙝, 𝙣𝙤. 𝙄’𝙢 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙…”

“𝘚𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦.”

“𝙄… 𝙄 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧..”

“𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘻𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘴.”

He knew my brother and I was stuck. I stared at him in the low light and my mind was shuffling frantically for an excuse, any excuse. Nothing. Niente.

“𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 8. 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬.”

My silence taken as a confirmation. I had stood and watched him retreat with a small confident smile back into the throng. As if he had just won a bet.

I had had every intention of turning him down later that night after the party was over, but as we sat in the town car on our way back to the hotel, Enzo had broken the silence between.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯.”

I had turned to look at him, surprised. The lights of the city illuminated his face through the tinted windows.

“𝘼𝙗𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩.”

His response was quick without even looking up from his phone on which he was typing an email.

“𝘠𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳? 𝘠𝘰𝘶. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.”

And so, my “opportunity” to be involved in the business I was so often left out of, was born.

That was 2 years ago now, and the current state of my life is the culmination of that decision.

My gaze falls from the possessions I’m packing away to the massive diamond on my finger.

Engaged to Vincent Luciano. Moving to America in just a couple weeks. Leaving my home. My family. Everything.

For a man I don’t even love.

My life, turned upside down. I want to scream that nothing else move. No one speak a word lest it shake the already rickety foundation my composure sits upon.

But as if laughing in my face, the universe lands another blow, and I feel my knees weaken when I answer my phone to hear my brother’s voice telling me.

“𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘞𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.”

And just like that, in the aftermath of the phone call that will change everything, the silence settles in like a dense fog.

I turn my head, casting my gaze out the expansive windows of my bedroom that is only mine for the next 24 hours longer. Dark clouds are rolling into the bay. A premonition.

Father is dead, The Association is headless, and a storm is coming.

[bluejeanbaby]

"I meant get into to comfortable clothes. You know you can't be too comfy like that. I always hated wearing my work clothes once I got home." he teased her, though honestly the faint food smell on her clothes was relaxing more than anything. Reminded him of a world he hadn't returned to in a long time. One he hadn't been back to since the nightmare began. Oh food service. He turned to bury his face against her shoulder, taking in a deep breath. It helped him relax, though only slightly.

"I'll never be ready at this point, but sitting at home it's...it's not helping, is it?" he said, being blunt, though he usually shyed away from such talk. "Idles hands and all that. I'll find something that I can do." he murmured, still tucked right against her side. "But I'm not rushing. In fact I'm not moving nearly as quickly as they want me to. I mean at least they didn't get my sister to come and nag me yet. That will be the breaking point." he sighed dramatically as he blinked up at her.

"Mm, I'm glad you like my hair. Honestly I kinda like it too. I'm almost ready to be a man bun barista. Will you still lvoe me if I am?" he asked with a little smirk, doing his best to joke around though he tried not to think about he probably wouldn't be able to work in a coffee shop for a long time on account of his bad arm. "Maybe I'll let you braid it some time, hm?" he whispered, nudging his nose against her cheek.

"It will. It has to change. That's how life works? Just a stupid amount of change the moment you get comfortable." August murmured, sounding much more dramatic than usual. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "We have each other though. So it can only get better." he tried to sound optimistic. "I'll always be by your side, you know.....you can talk to me about anything." he nudged, hoping she'd share and knowing she wouldn't.

"I'm comfortable right here." Beside him, the only place she felt truly at peace. Safe from the horrors that taunted and haunted them at every turn of a corner or blink of an eye. Reminders of what they suffered were everywhere. From an elderly couple that resembled the pair, they'd seen slayed to the pitiful glances from friends and family. Yet through all the fear, August was her sanctuary. "Don't worry about that, Auggie. You'll go back when you're ready." There was no point in rushing anything. Plus, the sooner he returned to the workforce, the less time she'd have with him and that thought alone, was crippling.

Her stomach coils into a bundle of knots at the mention of his mothers stopping in. Of course, she knew they wanted nothing but the best for their son, but Daphne couldn't help but feel as if they were pressuring him to move on from something neither of them had seemed to heal from. "Well, I have to admit." An almost playful dreamlike expression toys with her tired features. "I fucking love your hair." A few fingers find their way into the messy locks, dusting them back so she can get a better look at his eyes. "It's on your time, babe… Nobody else's." There would be no propelling him out of his comfort zone. Not when she could barely handle leaving their apartment after sundown.

She's certain her heart shatters at his whispered confession. Every inch of her aches in desire; wishing she could ease his pain. "I'm scared too…" Her forehead finds his, the tips of their noses brushing. "But I have to believe that something will change. I don't know when, or how… But it's what I'm holding out for."

[cjsinkythoughts]

Right From Left

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Zemo being a punk, Bucky getting a little scary, some feelings, Sam being his fantastic, amazing, caring for everyone self

A/N: Here it is! At long last! I’ve been waiting for this episode and it was…holy fuck. I barely have words. And I can’t start or else I’ll be ranting for pages. Anyways, I know this Part is a little on the shorter side - not by much, but it still is - and it doesn’t even cover half the episode, but I’ve had a long day and I’m tired, so I’m going to sleep. I wanted to stop before Walker entered the picture too, because then I’m just gonna get more riled up and I’m working later. I’ll probably have another part out today, and then I’ll finish it tomorrow. Unless I can finish it today. I’ll try, but no promises.

Feel free to rant to me about the episode or the show, too, guys! My friends and I have been going back and forth about it for the past few hours. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think that’s all for now.

As always, this isn’t beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you for reading, be kind to yourself and others, enjoy this part and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

!SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

You were avoiding him.

When you first got to Latvia, he had pulled you aside, eyes wide and pleading. “Doll, listen-”

“I really don’t think right now is the time to have the discussion we’re about to have.” Shaking your head, you avoided his gaze, your stomach twisting into knots. It was too much for you to handle; you couldn’t focus on the mission at hand and try to unravel the emotions that were making your gut flip like a gymnast. There were too many thoughts in your head, and you needed a clear mind.

“But-”

“Once this is all done, and our lives aren’t in danger. Once we’re back home, then we can talk, okay? Just…please. Not here. Not now.”

And he dropped it. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk about it. You just couldn’t. You had always been a ‘leave your baggage at the door’ type of person. Don’t mix work with personal. Not like you had much “personal” anyways when you first decided that was how it should be. And then your coworkers became family and your motto got a lot harder to follow. But you still followed it. And you would continue to follow it.

But that made you start avoiding him. Whether you meant to or not, everyone noticed, but no one said anything. Sam shot you a look when you didn’t offer to go with Bucky when he had to check something out. Zemo raised an eyebrow when he came back and, instead of immediately questioning him, you sat still on the couch, eyes glancing up briefly, before going back to playing with the strings of your hoodie.

You were paying attention to their conversation, especially when Karli Morgenthau was brought up, you just didn’t join in. Not even when Zemo mentioned the Avengers, eyeing you to see your reaction.

Honestly, you were tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Your shoulder hurt, your brain couldn’t process what the guys were talking about, and your heart couldn’t take any more hits.

It was something you’d been thinking about…you just thought it’d come after this mission.

“She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her…or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The Serum never corrupted Steve.”

For the first time since he first walked in, your eyes met Bucky’s. “Touche.” Zemo pointed at Bucky with a pastry around his finger. “But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

But you couldn’t wait until after this mission. Not when he was so connected to it. “I think I’m gonna go home.” You blurted out before Zemo and Bucky could argue further, Bucky slumping down onto the opposite side of the couch.

The moment the words left your lips, Sam and Bucky shot up, staring at you in disbelief.

“Wait, hold up. What? Now? We’re so close-”

“Why? Is it your arm? Is it hurting? You should’ve told us-”

“I’m just tired.” You cut in, shaking your head. “That’s all. I didn’t expect this to be drawn out this long when you called, Sammy.”

Bucky’s hand twitched as he hesitatingly scooted closer to you. “Doll, if this is because what happened on the jet-”

“It’s not, Buck.” You tried to give him a convincing smile, but you knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t buy it for one second. You reached over to squeeze his hand, and when you pulled back, he held on tighter, a sigh escaping his lips as he stared down at your linked hands.

“Okay…if you wanna go home, we can get you home. Just…” His head turned back to you, a pleading pout on his features. “Just…stay. Another day. Please. You can keep avoiding me, I won’t even say another word to you if you don’t want. But stay. Just for one more day.”

Chewing on your cheek, you finally nodded slightly. “Okay. One more day.”

His eyes lit up, before his face fell again when you took your hand back and curled into the corner of the couch. “Let’s talk shop, boys.”

“Okay. So, from my understanding, Donya is like a pillar of the community, right?” Sam easily changed the topic back to the situation at hand, giving you a reassuring wink when you smiled at him gratefully. “So when I was a kid, my Tee Tee passed away.”

Bucky screwed his face up in confusion, straightening his head from where he had it leaned back. “Your - your Tee Tee?”

Sam gave him a look. “Yeah. My-my Tee Tee, yeah.”

Bucky looked at him weirdly. “Who is your Tee Tee?”

The exchange made you giggle a little bit, shaking your head. “Bucky’s a city boy from the 40’s, remember, Sammy?”

“Fine.” Sam rolled his eyes. “When I was a kid my aunt passed away.”

Bucky gave a slight huff, making you chuckle again. You stopped when he smiled over at you, but your grin didn’t leave your face. Even when they were the ones to give you a headache, your fellas were damn entertaining, that’s for sure.

With a sort-of plan in place - the gathering for Donya being no more than a theory, but the only idea you really had - you stretched out from your spot on the couch, twisting to crack your back. “Zemo.” The man stopped his rummaging through the cabinets and looked over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “Go put some clothes on. We’ve got work to do.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, opening his mouth, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Do as the lady says, man. You’re already walking on a tightrope after you shot Nagel!” Zemo waved dismissively at Sam’s exclamation, heading into a separate room to change out of his robe. “That guy is gonna drive me up the wall.”

“Don’t let him get to that pretty head of yours, Sammy.” You hummed, standing up, wincing slightly as you stretched your sore shoulder over your head.

You could tell Bucky wanted to say something, the way he snapped forwards, hands moving down his thigh like he was leaning over to reach for you, his eyes locked on your injured joint, but, just as he said earlier, he didn’t say a word. But the part that made you upset was…you didn’t stop him. You didn’t tell him it was okay for him to talk to you. You didn’t reassure him that you weren’t purposely trying to avoid him. You simply moved over to the kitchen to get something to drink.

It hurt worse than your shoulder, but you couldn’t handle it. Not then. Not with such an important part of the mission coming up. So you didn’t say anything. You just sipped your water, switching into tactic mode as your mind ran through the scenarios of what could possibly go down in the next 24 hours before you went home.

*************************

Walking under the arch, you couldn’t help but feel saddened as Zemo told you about what the courtyard used to look like. Thanos messed the world up so much more than you realized and, as much as you hated to admit it, the Avengers did have a part in it. Not that they - you - were in the wrong, necessarily. You truly believed you did what anyone in that situation, with the skills and abilities and knowledge the team had, would do what you did. Or tried to do.

“I’m gonna take a look around upstairs.” Sam stated, looking up at the upper stories of the building, before glancing at Bucky. “See what you can find out here. And keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll come with you.” You said, turning on your heel to follow Sam. The back of Bucky’s gloved hand brushed against yours, and instinctually you turned your palm to link your fingers and squeezing. You let go quickly once you realized what you were doing, nearly tripping up the stairs to get to Sam, not daring to wait for Bucky’s reaction.

“You’re an idiot.” He stated simply as soon as you met him at the top of the stairs.

“Can we focus on finding Donya right now, please?” You grumbled, moving forwards cautiously, peeking around the corner. You frowned when you saw two guys at the end of the hallway, looking back at you and Sam warily.

“You need to hear what he has to say, cher.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I know I do. I know. But I can’t. Not right now. I’m just trying to get this over with first. I don’t want too many things on my plate. I might choke.” It already felt like you were drowning most nights.

He paused at your words, giving you a once over, before nodding. “Okay. I can respect that.”

“Thank you.” You told him earnestly. “Now let’s try to get something from these people.”

He nodded in agreement and you two continued forwards with your search. Room after room, people walked out before you could get anything from them, locking doors behind them. The Flag Smashers logo was everywhere, but you expected nothing less from a refugee camp that practically worshipped what they were doing.

Even when you did get a guy to talk to you, he immediately shut you down, leaving you and Sam dejected. The fact that the world had gotten so bad that these people couldn’t trust you and Sam - Avengers; people who used to be heroes and bring hope to others - it made your heart sink.

“C’mon, Y/N.”

“Are we wrong?”

He froze at your question, his lips pressing together. “About what, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I guess I can’t tell right from left anymore. I always assumed that the Avengers were the good guys. That the actions we’ve taken in the past were us making the world a better place, but…Sokovia and Ultron. Germany and the whole civil war thing we had going on. The entire world and Thanos. We don’t truly ever win. Do we?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t tell you what to believe or who to believe in. But I can tell you that we’ve made a difference. Steve, Nat, Tony…they made a difference.”

“But was it a good difference? Was it a change? There’s a difference between changing the world and just making it different, Sam.”

He blinked at you, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And I don’t have that answer for you either. But they tried. They did what they thought was right. No matter if it was or not. And isn’t that all we can do? Try?”

His words made you think back to the conversation you had with Bucky once he learned about John Walker, which seemed so long ago. When you told him it wasn’t Sam’s fault. That he was just trying. That he did what he thought was right. 

And maybe he was wrong. But he made a decision. It was his decision. To do the right thing. And right then, not for the first time, you could see exactly what Steve saw in the man in front of you.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

Sam grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders and squeezing. “And you’re an incredible person, Y/N. Let’s go see if Bucky and the Baron got anything.”

You snickered at his mocking tone towards Zemo and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

*****************************

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit. So far, Zemo kept proving you wrong. Even when it seemed like he was about to jump ship, he came back. No matter how many opportunities he had to escape, he never did. And it was making you even more suspicious.

You stayed out of Bucky and Sam’s conversation, although you had to agree with Sam’s point, especially with the conversation you just had.

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles a minute, only to be interrupted by Zemo information about the funeral this afternoon. Guess a snake will always be a snake.

“And you, uh, didn’t think this was important information?” You questioned, eyes narrowed and brow pinched.

He shrugged. “You have it now, don’t you, princess?”

Bucky growled at the nickname, leaning back on the couch, threatening Zemo with the Dora Milaje.

You can’t remember a time you’ve ever been scared of Bucky. Maybe a little threatened and intimidated by the Winter Soldier, but never scared of Bucky. And when he stood up after Zemo mentioned leverage, you didn’t expect anything from it; maybe another choke hold or something. So the glass hitting the wall, the clench in his jaw as he spoke gruffly to the Baron, for a mere second, he kind of frightened you. Maybe it was all the emotions you’d been through the past few weeks or maybe it was the adrenaline that seemed to be pulsing through your veins 24/7 nowadays. Whatever it was, it made you flinch, bolting up as Sam did.

You left the room quickly, hearing Sam say something about making a call, hoping to calm your racing heart.

“Doll?” You sat up from the bed you were laying on, legs hanging off the edge. Bucky stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his feet. “I know I said I’d leave you alone, but…”

You gave the bed a pat next to you and he gladly accepted the invitation, padding over to sit besides you. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Buck. You’re my best friend. I-I just need to take it one thing at a time right now.”

He nodded. “I get it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t coming in to talk to you about that. You said we’ll talk about it later, so we’ll talk about it later.”

“I appreciate that, Bucky.” You smiled at him, before frowning. “What did you wanna talk about then? Are you okay?”

“Did I…did I scare you?”

You blinked at his question, tilting your head. “What?”

Jerking his head to the doorway he explained, “just then. With Zemo. Your heart spiked.”

“No.” You answered immediately. You would never ever admit that he kind of did scare you. It was just for a second and you knew how his brain worked; he’d beat himself up over it, go over his actions for hours instead of getting the rest he so desperately needs and deserves. He didn’t need that on his conscience right now. “I wasn’t - I just…you startled me. I wasn’t expecting that reaction-”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to you.” He spat out, glaring at his hands in his lap. “And then the smug bastard thought he was gonna get away with holding back information like that and I just…I dunno.”

His hand came off his thigh, but he hesitated. Before he could put it down again, you slipped your hand under his, linking your fingers, running your thumb in circles against his palm. “Don’t let him get to you, Buck. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

A sigh left his lips and he nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just…hard. After everything he put me through - put us through - I…I just hate that he’s really our only option.”

You frowned, shifting on the bed to face him, one leg bending beneath you while the other still hung over. “Why are you so obsessed with catching these guys?”

“I wanna do something right.” He murmured, playing with your fingers. “I’ve done so much wrong…I just wanna do something right. And I feel...responsible for it, I guess. In a way. It’s Super Soldier Serum. I thought I was the only one after Steve…” He froze at the blonde’s mention, giving you a side-eyed glance. You nudged him, silently telling him to continue, that it was okay to talk about him. “And Sam’s right, you know. She’s just a kid. So…I dunno. I wanna help. I wanna do something right. And catching them would help. It’s right. Right?”

You nodded firmly. “I understand where they’re coming from. Karli’s just trying to help the world. But she’s doing it wrong. And that I know for absolute certainty. Which is good, I guess. I was talking to Sam early and I mentioned not knowing my right from my left recently. It’s good I know something, huh? And for you it should be easy telling your right from your left.” You joked, tracing the gold lines on his metal arm. “I guess you’re just gonna have to stay besides me to help me remember.”

Looking up, you found Bucky staring at you with something you recognized in his eyes, but didn’t want to name. “Three hours, forty two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“What?”

“That’s how long I didn’t talk to you. It was too long.”

You sighed, ducking your head. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry. For anything and everything I’ve ever done wrong. I won’t mention the plane or anything we’ve talked about until you bring it up first. I promise. Just…just don’t ignore me anymore? I'm not sure I can handle it for much longer.”

You nodded, watching your fingertips dance along his scruffy jaw. “I won’t.” He caught your wrist, opening his mouth, before shaking his head and closing it. “What?”

He shook his head again. “Not until you bring it up.”

“We will talk, James. I promise.”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it. I really do. It’s okay. As long as we’re okay for right now, I can hold it in a bit longer.”

You nearly asked him what he was holding in, but you quickly shoved the question out of your mind, knowing it would take you down a conversation you couldn’t possibly have right then. “How long do you think we have?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Zemo just said that it’s this afternoon. Why?”

“I started reading The Great Gatsby on the plane. I’ve got it on my phone. It kinda reminds me of you. Do you-do you think we have time to read some? Only if you want, I mean. Like we used to do in Wakanda?”

He grinned and nodded, scooting up on the bed and flopping down into the pillows. You smiled back, following his lead. Once you were comfortable, your phone out with the chapter you were on, Bucky scooted closer, laying his head on your stomach, hugging your waist. 

“Is this okay?”

Your fingers found home in his hair and you nodded when he looked up at you for an answer. “Yeah. It’s perfect, Buckaroo.”

[finelinevogue]

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

[angry-geese]

Hi there <3 I've read some of your works and i'm in love with your writing. May I please request a fluff gojo x fem!reader? Like they finished their work in the evening and spend the rest of the night together at home💕 It could be a oneshot or a hc, whichever you feel to write. Thank you so much ^^ I'm sorry just in case my request is somehow not really clear☺️

Of course! here you go <3

Mochi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: none! entirely fluff! this will quite literally rot your teeth. afab reader

a/n: this ended up being a little longer than I intended lol whoops

Word Count: 2.5k

Satoru Gojo is a busy man.

The strongest can't really take a break. He’s on call 24/7. People are pulling him in all directions simultaneously. With everything that's been going on, between the mess with Sukuna, and everything happening at the school, he’s been short on time.

He needs a break.

He's more tired than he lets on. He’s good at hiding it. Especially around his students. It's hard to pull him away from his work. He's insistent that he’s fine. When you’re around someone for so long, you learn to pick up when they aren't. He can pretend to be fine all he wants. You know otherwise.

Sometimes what the strongest needs is someone to boss him around.

He’s capable of taking care of himself. He’s proven that already. But worrying is in your nature. You care about him, of course you’re going to worry.

You were a first year when you met him, having just transfered schools after an incident involving a curse. In a matter of weeks your life had seemingly been flipped on its head. The switch took some time to get used to. Switching schools your first year, let alone switching to this one in particular, was never going to be easy. Getting used to the way Jujutsu society worked took a while. He was a year above you, and you remember absolutely hating him. Gojo was insufferable- or you found him to be such. But he was friends with Nanami, who was a friend of yours, so you reluctantly hung out with him. Nanami, being in the same year as you, was the first to help you out, extending a hand and helping you get used to the way things worked.

Spending time with him didn't do much to change your views. The two of you couldn't have been more different. You still are. But something about opposites attracts.

The first time you gave him the benefit of the doubt was the first time he saved your life.

It may be a bit of an over exaggeration. You’re certain you would have survived without his help, but that could also be an attempt to preserve your pride. You went after a curse, not expecting it to be as strong as it was. As far as you knew, it shouldn't have been stronger than a grade three. Being a grade two at the time, this should have been well in your ability. There ended up being more than one curse, and they were stronger than anyone had realized. You were in over your head.

It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. It's not like you could pick and choose which curses you fought. As a student, that was decided for you.

You had resigned to your fate, separated from the others, injured. Nothing fatal. It left a cool scar, though. But you were well out of your league, put on an assignment far harder than you could deal with. You hate to admit defeat, but you had no other option.

Out of what seemed like thin air came Gojo, taking out both curses like it was nothing. Despite not liking him all that much, it was hard to not be impressed. He was strong. Stronger than you could ever hope to be.

You made it home in one piece.

It was three days before you’d finally confront him.

Getting him alone was hard enough. Being an underclassman, you didn't interact with him a whole lot. You didn't have any classes together. The few times you ran into him were when you hung out with Nanami, who was gone at the time.

When the opportunity presented itself, you took it, cornering him behind the school.

Even back then it was impossible to sneak up on him. He could sense you coming.

“Jesus-” he said, referring to you by your last name, “you look like you want to kill me.”

“You helped me out.” You said. “Why?”

He only shrugged. Not wanting to take that for an answer, you followed him. You were insistent you paid him back. You’d never let a debt like that go unpaid. The first debts are always the hardest to pay back. And when a first debt involves saving your life, well, you’ve got a lifetime to pay back. You only left once Gojo showed up. He needed to talk to Gojo about something, and although you were curious, you didn't feel like sticking around.

Gojo spent the next couple days scheming. You were determined enough you would do just about anything. He could have easily abused his power. It would have been even easier to force you to drop it, but something told him you weren't about to take no for an answer.

You wouldn't.

3pm in the bathrooms. It was hardly a week later. Your last class had ended for the day. You had snuck cigarettes in, blowing the smoke out of the crack in the window. You don't smoke anymore, but you went through nearly a pack a day in high school. There wasn't a specific brand you liked—you didn't necessarily like smoking, but you did it when you were stressed—you just used whatever you got ahold of.

You didn't hear the door open. Gojo wasn't the sneaky type, but he could be when he wanted. You weren't too hard to sneak up on.

If you didn't have contraband that likely would have gotten you expelled, you would have screamed when you saw him. He scared you, not to mention he snuck into the girl’s bathrooms. The two of you would be in equally deep shit if you reported the other. So at that moment you came to a silent agreement.

“You still want to pay me back?” He asked. “Cause I have an idea.”

You perked up at his words.

“Get me mochi from that shop just down the road. You know the one that just opened up?” He asked. “Bring me some and I’ll call us even.”

“That's it?” You asked. It was almost anticlimactic. But despite everything, he was insistent.

Gojo hasn't changed a whole lot since then.

He still has his sweet tooth. He still makes you get him mochi from that shop. It feels like you’re the ones keeping it in business nowadays.

You’re not quite sure who made the first move.

Soon you began spending more time together away from Nanami and Geto. You got along better than anyone—mostly you—ever expected. You weren't the most outwardly affectionate. While you were far from shy, pda wasn't really your thing. Gojo is the opposite. Even now, years after you began dating, he’s still clingy. You’ve gotten used to it. Gojo is possessive, he wants everyone to know you’re his. Not that they don't know already. He can't shut up about you.

Getting him alone has always been hard. Not much has changed in the past few years. He’s only gotten busier. Try to drag him away from work all you want, you rarely succeed.

Tonight he's come willingly. He finished his work early, and all you had left was stuff you could finish in the morning.

Nights at home like this—together—are rare. It feels like you hardly see him anymore. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up to the other side of the bed being cold. He’s been so occupied with this business with Yuji, that he’s hardly had time for anything else. You sneak away during your breaks, like you’re teenagers again, stealing kisses between classes. You almost don't know what to do.

It almost feels like you should do something to celebrate.

The lights are off when you get home. Your apartment looks empty. Megumi must still be out with his friends.

“What should we do for dinner?” Gojo asks.

“Takeout?” You say. "I don't feel like cooking."

Gojo’s a decent cook, but he doesn't feel like doing so either. He’d get takeout every night if you’d let him. But that's not good for him (or Megumi) so you force him to do otherwise. Because you’re normally home, and you like baking, you’re usually the one to make dinner. There's not much in the fridge. You'll have to get groceries eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It shouldn't take long.

“How does Korean barbeque sound?" He asks. "From that place down the street?”

"Sounds good,"

You find a menu buried in one of your kitchen drawers, stashed with other takeout menus. You pick out something—two meals, plus some sweet buns for dessert—he calls the restaurant. You pay the extra cash to have it delivered. Neither of you feel like going and picking it up. It's more convenient than the alternative.

The tv drones on in the background while you wait. There’s not much on tv at this hour. News, some late night soaps. While you do like your occasional soap opera, none that you normally watch are on. Gojo changes it to the news. The weather. It looks like it'll rain tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is supposed to be warm.

"We should go to the park tomorrow," you say, "having a picnic sounds nice."

Gojo hums in approval. As long as you make those tea cakes—the ones with honey drizzled on top—he'll agree to tag along. Maybe you'll go check out the bookstore too. It's been a while since you've last gone.

You strip out of your uniform, pulling on some more comfortable clothes; a pair of shorts and one of Gojo's shirts. It smells like him. You can't help but bury your nose in the collar.

When there’s a knock at the door, Gojo is the one to answer. He returns with your food. You gather napkins and utensils. Gojo never saw the point in anything other than stainless steel chopsticks. Or wooden ones—those given to you with takeout—if he wasn't feeling up to doing dishes. You, on the other hand, bought all sorts of colorful ones and stands that may or may not have been lifted from various restaurants. That's one habit from your teenage years you never lost. You'd pocket almost anything that wasn't nailed down. Your apartment has a rather impressive assortment of salt and pepper shakers. Not to mention the box of hotel soaps you never use, but took because you "might" need it. He enables you, taking some whenever he stays out of town, bringing them home for you. Gojo can hardly say no to you.

Gojo settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder pressed to yours. He can't keep his hands off of you. He’s possessive by nature. Everyone has to know you’re his. He always has to be touching you. Not necessarily with his hands, but he presses his thigh against yours while sitting next to you, or his body pressed against yours from behind in public.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Gojo’s attention turns to the tv, but that doesn't stop him from practically laying on top of you. Occasionally he’ll sneak bites of your food, and you of his.

When you’re done, you clear away the empty containers, sitting any leftovers in the fridge. Gojo sprawls out on the couch. He easily takes up any bit of space. The couch can hardly fit all 6-foot-something of Gojo. It hardly fits you. You've been meaning to look for another one, but haven't found the time to.

He opens his arms, and instinctively you go into them. You move so you can rest partially against the arm of the couch, Gojo's head leaning against your shoulder. His arms loop around your waist, his fingers lacing over your stomach.

It doesn't take him long to begin to drift off. He falls asleep in the crook of your neck. The low sound of the tv, combined with the warmth of his body makes you want to drift off to sleep. Sleeping on the couch like this isn't very good for your (or his) back, but you don't want to move.

The next time your eyes open, some late night game show plays, disturbing your sleep with loud music. The clock on the wall reads some time past two. It's hard to read the minute hand. You gently shake Gojo awake. One of his eyes cracks open and he lets out a soft “hm?”

“Come to bed,” you say, your arms wrapping around his neck, “it's late.”

His eyes close, and for a moment you think he’s drifted back off to sleep, when his grip around you tightens, and he’s rolling over on top of you.

“I think I’ll stay here with you, mochi,” he says, planting a wet kiss to your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck makes you shiver.

And though he doesn't move, there's a look in his eyes that tells you he has something planned. You only notice too late that his grip never loosens, and the mischievous glint to his eyes. You couldn't wiggle out of it if you wanted to. You're effectively trapped.

He litters your neck with kisses, sending you into a giggling fit, and he doesn't stop until you’re begging him to. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from laughing. Your nails dig into your palms so hard they leave little crescent-shaped indents.

When you finally settle down, he’s pulling you into his arms bridal style, heading for your shared room. The bed is still unmade from this morning. Neither of you bothered to put it away. You were busy, and the thought slipped your mind.

Gojo shoves the covers aside, pulling you to lay on his chest. His fingers gently trace up the curve of your spine as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. Goosebumps prickle your exposed skin. He’s careful with how he touches you, loving, and soft. It's like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. His heartbeat is audible. Steady, and quet, acting as a lullaby. Your eyes shut, but you’re still awake. The intimacy of the moment doesn't go over your head.

He thinks he could die happy at this moment. Any moment, with you, really. Even during fights, or nights where he doesn't come home until long after you’ve fallen asleep, and you’re left irritated with his lack of time. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.

He doesn't give much to the thought of settling down. His work will never let him. Neither does he think much about having any biological children. You practically have two already. Settling down isn't really an option for the strongest. This is the closest he’ll get to it.

For now, he just thinks about the park, and the blue sundress you always wear when you go.

Not many people can say they’ve changed who Satoru Gojo is as a person—let alone for the better—but you’ve changed him twice. Once in your meeting behind the school, and once again tonight. He’s found the one.

The first debt is always the hardest to pay back. But you've paid it in full.

[unhingedexperimenter]

Amber didn't seem bothered by the fact she had scraped her knee because of her fall. Looking down at her now dirtier clothing with nothing more than slight annoyance. “Oh dear, I'll fix that up soon. Just as soon as Rachel comes back. Okay?” She nodded at that though her expression became an unhappy one at the sight of her now torn toy laying on the ground. “HENRY! CALL THE AMBULANCE AT ONCE! OUR PUP IS HURT! OUR POOR SWEET AMBER!” Hyde seemed to be the one most bothered by Amber's slightly skinned knee. Though he decided not to respond to Hyde as it would just end up with them arguing. He also didn't want to repeat the little slip up from the day before. Henry didn't want to take the chance of upsetting Amber by panicking as well. So he remained calm but deeply concerned for their daughter. “Amber!” A very worried voice called out. Rachel had come running towards them at an alarming speed. Hyde was watching, hating the fact that he was useless at the moment. Tears welled up in his eyes, wishing he could take Amber into his arms and comfort her. When Rachel had arrived, she was panting slightly. “What happened?” They both heard sniffling and crying coming from the girl being held in his arms. “Does it hurt that bad?” She was extremely concerned. Rachel had seen the girl take a fall like this before. Amber had never cried from it before. She shook her head and pointed at the ruined gift she had cherished on the ground. “Winnie! Winnie is broken!” The poor girl was much more concerned about her beloved toy over her own well-being. Amber was eerily similar to her father at times. “Winnie got torn when Amber took a tumble. Poor thing. Rachel, could you please hand me the bandages and disinfectant you keep on hand?” She nodded and immediately went through her bag and dug out a small first aid kit. Henry quickly made use of it, putting a little bit of the disinfectant on the wound. It stung a little but Amber had only flinched a tiny bit at that. “Our poor sweet pup, hurt!” Hyde was wiping away tears. Soon her knee was all bandaged up. Henry had let her stand up now. Though there was still a huge problem. “Winnie…” The sight of her being so saddened by this, it broke both Henry and Hyde's heart. Rachel was quiet, thinking for a moment. After she put the medical kit away, Rachel spoke up. “I think I saw a toy repair shop on the way here. We can get it fixed there.” This made Amber look up at them with a hopeful expression. “We'll get Winnie fixed up like me?” A small smile grew across Henry's face. “Yes. We'll have Winnie good at new. As soon as we can.” He turned toward Rachel. "What is this place called?” The woman took a moment to think. “It's called Sweet Memories. I can show you where we had passed it.”

Victor was in the middle of an emergency repair. Carefully stitching up the doll he had put so much effort into. He hadn't heard the door ringing going off which indicated a new potential customer. Victor carefully placed one last stitch before a voice called out. While he was usually such an observant and alert person, he had to admit he got much into making, designing and repairing toys. “Vic? Victor, are you here?” He nearly dropped the tools in his hands from being startled. Quickly placing them down so he wouldn't drop them. “I'm back here. What's going on?” It took no time for the villain to find his brother. “I…uh. I came here to speak about something with you.” Dr.Two-Brains seemed hesitant to say what. “Okay, Nibbles. What's going on? You don't just show up for just anything.” He seemed very concerned. Taking off his specially made magnifying glasses and placing it down so they can talk face to face. “Well. There's something that's been bothering me lately. It's about a new criminal in Fair City. I might need your assistance with something.” That had definitely caught Victor's attention. “Who is bothering? What's their name?” Dr.Two-Brains took a deep breath, he still felt a bit angry at the man. “His name is Edward Hyde. Something recently happened. He wanted to join the EVA so we gave him a chance. It didn't go well.”

(You can tag me on my tgs side blog. I also apologize but I know a few Scottish words. So to anyone reading this I apologize for the inaccuracy.) Becky Boxleitner noticed a change in the atmosphere as she and her pet monkey Bob walked into the sixth grade classroom. All of the students were excitedly chatting with one another. Becky and Bob exchanged confused looks at the scene. 'What is going on?' They both thought. Becky walked to where her friends Violet Heaslip, Rose Franklin, and Todd Scoops Ming were sitting, also joining in the excited yet low volume chattering. "Hey guys what's going on?" Becky asked her friends. They each turned their heads to greet their friend. "Hey Becky guess what, we're getting a new teacher for our class!" Scoops exclaimed. Becky looked surprised at the announcement. Bob also mimicked her facial expression. "Wait really? What happened to Miss Davis?" Becky asked, wondering what happened to their old teacher. It was just a week only into the new school year so a sudden teacher exchange was a complete shock to Becky especially since there were no announcements about it beforehand. "Miss Davis had to move back home because of a family emergency." Rose Franklin answered. "The principal had to scramble to find a new teacher to fill in for our class. It was all last minute stuff." Becky nodded in understanding of her friends' answers. It was a nice perk to be friends who were upcoming reporters. Soon the final bell rang which indicated for every student to take their seats. Becky took her place beside her best friend Violet and Bob plopped down next to her. Soon a man who looked to be in his mid 30s walked in and towards the desk. He had curly brown air, an arched nose, and reddish brown eyes. He wore a tan button-down shirt with a red vest as well as brown slacks and dark suede shoes. The man gave a pleasant and warm smile to all the students there. "Hello my name is Dr. Henry Jekyll and I will be your teacher for the school year." Becky and the other kids ears perked up as they took note of the man's accent. Even Tobey became slightly interested in his new teacher. None of them were sure where their new teacher was from. Dr. Jekyll gave a light chuckle as if he could sense their growing curiosity about him. He lightly clapped his hands together to gain their undivided attention and focus. "Well since this is my first time teaching here, why don't we all play a little game so we can all get better acquainted with each other. Here's what to do. One at a time, say your name and share a wee bit about yourself. Likes, family, interests and all that. I'll go first to show ya what ah mean. Again. My name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. I was born in Glasgow but ah moved to London where I attended university. I have a five year old wee lassie or daughter named Amber. I enjoy chemistry and reading on occasions. Now who would like to go next?" @unhingedexperimenter

Of course Tobey had taken the opportunity to place attention on himself and to have a reason to boast about himself. “My name is Tobey McCallister the third and I will be the most intelligent student you'll meet here.” The others had rolled their eyes, used to this kind of behavior from their peers. Becky seemed to be the most annoyed by it. Having been forced to put up with his destructive tantrums in the past. Henry smiled just as warmly as before. Unbothered by the obnoxious behavior that the boy had been displaying. Tobey had been going on about himself for a good few minutes before the teacher finally spoke up. “Ahem, yes. Thank you for that Mr. McCallister. Would anyone else like to tell me a bit about themselves as well?” No one could tell that behind the facade, Dr. Henry Jekyll was becoming more irritated by the moment. Not by the child but by the pest that refused to leave him be. Scoffing within his head at what they just heard. He didn't share the disembodied voice's opinion but wanted to give the other children a chance to introduce themselves as well. To the others' shock, Tobey seemed to have taken this well. Quickly going back to his desk with no issues. Becky was relieved at that. Soon the other children had started to introduce themselves to their new teacher with little to no issues. He seemed genuinely nice enough to her. This new teacher didn't seem like most of the adults within this city. Some she had to define words repeatedly for. Dr. Jekyll knew what he was teaching and knew his vocabulary. It was Violet who had brought Becky out from her own thoughts, calling her name. Waving a hand in front of her face. “Becky?” The girl smiled in an embarrassed manner. “Huh? Yes?” Violet smiled, patient with her best friend. “Why don't you introduce yourself now? Nearly everybody else already did.” She had given a surprised expression. Becky hadn't realized that she was so lost within her thoughts until then. She stood up and began speaking. “My name is Becky Boxleitner and I also like libraries,reading and Pretty Princess.” The presence that was grating at the teacher's nerves had deemed this too dull to enjoy. Leaving Dr. Jekyll be to his teaching. Well, getting to know his students. He was happy to see that they were engaged in these activities that were meant to break the ice. Though one student in particular had caught his attention the most. Becky. While she did seem rather bright, there was something strange about her behavior at times. Pausing whatever she was doing at the time to listen in on something. Thinking it went unnoticed. Even once looking alarmed and she made an excuse to go to the bathroom. He had allowed it. Feeling that it would've been better to have let her. It seemed…oddly familiar. As if he had seen that behavior somewhere before but couldn't figure out exactly where from. When the school day was finally over, Becky had gone to go home like the others. Dr. Jekyll had of course stayed behind to set more things up within his new classroom. Making a plan on exactly what he'll actually start teaching the next day. Though, the grating voice had returned to be a thorn in his side. “Come on. Leave this boring stuff alone. Leave it until tomorrow. I've been pent up for far too long. Let's have some fun.” This had earned an eye roll and a loud huff from the teacher. “No, I've got to get this done now. You will have enough time tonight. Just be patient until then.” A shadowy figure formed in front of Dr. Jekyll. A frown on its face. “But this is so extremely dull. I want to stretch my legs. I want to make myself known already.” Dr. Jekyll glared. “And that is precisely why I'm so hesitant to let you out so soon. At least let us get acclimated to our surroundings first.” The figure let out an annoyed groan. “You know you want this as much as I do. Otherwise you'd never have any actual fun in the sad and pathetic life you call yours.”

@thecountoflondonfansite

[robininthelabyrinth]

🍊🍋Wen Chao and/or wen xu is a good guy and actually wants to end wen ruo jan's reign of terror (cloud recesses, lotus pier, xuanwu cave or all are elaborate ruses)

ao3

Untamed

“A-Chao,” Wen Xu said. “I think our father is insane.”

Wen Chao’s eye twitched visibly, his shoulders rising up to his ears. “You can’t say that! That’s treason!”

“I’ve already made sure there’s no one anywhere around us right now, not even people I trust.”

Down went the shoulders.

“Of course he’s insane,” Wen Chao said. “Some of his orders recently…”

He shook his head.

“Not much of an empire to rule if they’re all ghost puppets, is there?” he concluded. “I think the Yin Metal is poisoning his brain.”

“I agree,” Wen Xu said. “Now what do we do about it? He’s just ordered me to raze the Cloud Recesses.”

“…when you say raze –”

“To the ground.”

“What happened to just dominating the rest of the cultivation world?” Wen Chao complained. “I liked that plan. I was going to have a really great life. A palace. Servants. Good food. Even better wine. Enough clothing to keep Jiaojiao from complaining.”

“I…don’t know if that’s possible,” Wen Xu said. “Haven’t you given her three closets’ worth already?”

“I have no idea, and I’m too attached to my balls to ask.”

“Anyway,” Wen Xu said. “What do we do about it?”

“You’re asking me?” Wen Chao said.

“Well I’m certainly not going up against him by myself! He’ll kill me!”

“You think he would hesitate to kill both of us?”

“Ugh. Is there anyone we can ask for help? Anyone we haven’t pissed off?”

They both paused, thinking.

“…no,” Wen Chao said. “But in our defense, we never thought we’d need any of them, did we?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to buy that as an excuse,” Wen Xu said, scowling. “Fuck. Isn’t there anyone?”

“Well,” Wen Chao said. He did not continue.

“No,” Wen Xu said. “No. He literally wants to cut off our heads.”

“So does everyone else in the cultivation world,” Wen Chao said. “At least we know Sect Leader Nie hates Dad more than he hates us, which isn’t something that can be said about the rest of them.”

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “What’s our alternative plan?”

“…become ghost puppets?”

“Fuck.”

-

“You do remember that I want to kill you both?” Nie Mingjue said, scowling at them.

“We were betting on you wanting to kill our father more,” Wen Chao said.

“I’m not sure,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’re very obnoxious.”

Wen Chao scowled.

“He has a point, A-Chao,” Wen Xu said.

“Shut up.”

“Respect your elders!”

“If you two are going to start fighting, I’m leaving,” Nie Mingjue said.

They both squinted at him. “Does that mean you might not leave if we stop?” Wen Xu asked.

Nie Mingjue’s scowl got even worse, but eventually he begrudgingly said “…well, I really hate your father.”

They both exhaled in relief.

“What’s your plan?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“This was about as far as it went,” Wen Xu admitted, and Nie Mingjue gaped at him. “What? If we had planning skills, we’d be ruling the world.”

“Jiaojiao wants jewelry now,” Wen Chao agreed. “Lots of it. Keeping a mistress is expensive.”

“I’ll…take your word for that,” Nie Mingjue said, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“You’re always plotting against our father, right?” Wen Xu asked.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “If I could plot, your father would already be dead.”

“Good point,” Wen Chao said, but he wasn’t the sort of person to let little details like that discourage him. “But surely you know someone who can?”

“Just keep in mind that I’m on a deadline here,” Wen Xu said. “I have to leave to go raze the Cloud Recesses by the end of the week.”

“You want me to come up with a plan to defeat your father before the end of the week?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Wen Chao agreed.

“I’m going to go get Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue decided. “And Huaisang, too, why not, somehow he always gets his way no matter what I do. Maybe he can come up with something for this.”

-

“I think we’re going to need expert assistance,” Nie Huaisang declared. “I’m thinking this is Wei Wuxian levels of plotting.”

“He can plot?” Wen Chao said dubiously. “Are you sure? He took nearly a week to fight a mildly ominous bird.”

“…is that so?” Nie Huaisang said, and sighed. “Okay, fine. Meng Yao, guess it’s up to you and me.”

Meng Yao was blinking his eyes very rapidly.

“What?” Wen Chao said. “You have an awful father too, don’t look so shocked about us wanting to get rid of ours.”

“That’s just how his brain works when he’s thinking,” Nie Huaisang assured him. “He’s kicking it like it’s a sleeping donkey that doesn’t want to get to work; give him a minute and he’ll be coming up with all sorts of ideas.”

“Good ideas?”

“All sorts of ideas.”

“…any good ideas? Mediocre ideas, even?”

“Listen, we have until the end of the week,” Nie Mingjue said irritably. “You’ll take whatever ideas we give you and you’ll like it, you hear me?”

“Is it too late to get Wen Zhuliu in on this?” Wen Xu asked Wen Chao.

“He has that weird thing for Dad,” Wen Chao reminded him.

“Fuck,” Wen Xu said. “I’d wiped that from my memory through the application of a great deal of alcohol, but yes, you’re right. Okay. Hit me with your worst plan.”

-

“That’s worse than I thought it was going to be.”

“Shut up and just do it.”

-

“I will now, in the name of the Wen sect, attack –” Wen Xu grimaced. “– this cave.”

“It’s a very important cave, actually,” one of the Lan disciples muttered.

“Be quiet,” Lan Wangji said.

They were all pretending not to notice the main force of Lan sect disciples, led by Lan Xichen, carting their precious books and treasures out of the Cloud Recesses right behind him.  

“I am attacking this very important cave,” Wen Xu clarified. “Of extreme importance to the Lan sect. So important, in fact, that it is clearly the correct target for an invasion.”

They stood around a while longer.

Someone cleared their throat. “Should we fight?”

“I can have my men beat you up if you really want,” Wen Xu said.

“…no thanks.”

“Then be quiet.”

There was a bit more standing around. Eventually Lan Qiren coughed.

“Would you like a chair or something?” Wen Xu asked, then frowned. “Never mind, I probably can’t justify that.”

“Probably not,” Lan Qiren agreed. He looked pained. Probably by the whole situation, but who knew, maybe he just had a bad back and the standing around was getting to him. “You will be taking Wangji hostage after this?”

“Along with most of the heirs of the Great Sects,” Wen Xu said. “As agreed, we’ll keep them out of the way.”

“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest place.”

“…yeah, that. Either way, they’ll be kept out of trouble.”

-

“This is not out of trouble!” Wei Wuxian shouted as they ran away from the Xuanwu.

“This stretch of river has never caused anyone any problems!” Wen Chao shouted back. “Ever! You’re the one who found the fucking cave!”

“Shut up and keep running!” Jiang Cheng howled.

-

“I really like your hair,” Wang Lingjiao told Madame Yu. “Also, that dress.”

Wen Chao sighed.

“Expensive tastes?” Wei Wuxian asked, pouring him some wine.

“You have no idea,” Wen Chao said glumly. “My allowance can’t cover it, so I ended up putting her as a line item in the military budget.”

“You did?” Jiang Cheng said. “Did your father, uh, object?”

“He’d have to notice.”

“I wonder how many other things he wouldn’t notice,” Wei Wuxian muttered to himself.

“You’re a young master of Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “What could you possibly want to fund that we won’t pay for?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said. “Mad science experiments?”

-

“Can you pay him to stop?” Wen Xu asked. “I don’t even like flute music.”

“Shut up,” Wen Chao said. “You’ve been decapitated, remember?”

“Oh yeah, ‘decapitated’. And now I’m being force-fed lots of Qinghe barbeque,” Wen Xu said. “My life is really hard.”

“Why you…!”

Wen Xu sniggered. “How’s it going with Wen Zhuliu?”

“Fine, I think?” Wen Chao said. “He hasn’t actually noticed that the ‘demons’ we’re being hunted by aren’t really demons, but that’s because he’s been mostly drinking away his weird crush on our dad. I think Wen Ning is spiking his drink with something.”

They both turned to look at Wen Ning, who shrugged.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Wen Xu decided. “Are they attacking the Nightless City soon?”

“I think so.”

“What happens then?”

“Dunno.”

“Going to be kind of awkward when we ‘come back from the dead’ to take over.”

“I’m going to blame it on Wei Wuxian and his new weirdo cultivation,” Wen Chao decided. “We’re all sentient corpses he’s resurrected and using to puppet the Wen sect. Wen Ning, you in on this?”

“…sure,” Wen Ning said. “But only if I get first rights on ‘Ghost General’ as a nickname.”

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

-

“Thanks for the patricide,” Wen Xu said.

“Think nothing of it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Also, say nothing of it. Ever. In fact, let’s never talk again.”

“Can’t do that,” Wen Chao said. “Madame Yu told Jiaojiao that she got that fancy headpiece from Qinghe, so she wants to go there on a shopping trip.”

“Our economy could use the boost, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and Nie Mingjue sighed. “It’s going to be a really big boost. Especially if she convinces Madame Jin from Lanling to come with her.”

“I still can’t believe they made friends,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “It must come from having more money than brains.”

“Brains aren’t exactly what I look for in a partner,” Wen Chao said. “Luckily for you, neither does your boyfriend.”

“Hey, I have brains!”

“You’re certainly intelligent,” Meng Yao – now named Jin Guangyao – told him.

“See?”

“That was an insult,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hey!”

“When are you coming back to Qinghe?” Nie Huaisang asked Jin Guangyao, who blinked. “I mean, unless you want to spend all your time slaving away for a guy who thought Wen Ruohan was neat.”

“He’s right,” Wen Xu said. “Father or not, don’t do it. It’s not worth it. You’ll end up having to rebel and ask your worst enemies for help and it’s awkward.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Jin Guangyao said. “But I really can’t accept.”

“Why not?” Nie Huaisang asked.

Wen Chao pointed at him. “Seconded.”

Jin Guangyao grimaced at them both. Possibly it was meant to be a smile.

“You don’t have to go to the Unclean Realm, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said.

“Thank you, er-ge.”

“You can come to the Cloud Recesses instead.”

“Er-ge…”

“Did anyone ever tell the Jin sect that we were working with the Wen heirs?” Nie Mingjue wondered out loud, and everyone frowned. “Because if they don’t know, and Jin Guangshan thinks he’s being subtle with the whole trying to hire Xue Yang thing, things are going to get really awkward.”

“…well, shit,” Jiang Cheng said. “I call not being the one to tell him.”

“Seconded!”

“Cloud Recesses, you said?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Xichen, who looked pleased.

“I’m leaving,” Wen Xu decided. “I want nothing to do with this disaster. You all have fun now, I’m fucking off back to the Nightless City to live the rest of my life as a very rich man with no life goals.”

“I want to do that,” Nie Huaisang said.

“No,” Nie Mingjue said.

“But –”

“No.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian said. “Unrelatedly, anyone have any ideas on what should I do with the whole resentful energy seal thing now?”

“I don’t know,” Wen Chao said. “Play a giant game of keep away with it and then fake your own death?”

[havenoffandoms]

72 for Geralt/Jaskier?

I meant to post this a lot earlier... sorry about the wait, nonnie. I hope you like it anyway. I'm not sure how it came out in the end after I agonised over this for the past couple of days, but it was fun going back to my Geraskier roots.

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier

Prompt 72: Character A has a secret. Character B does whatever they can to find out what it is. When they find out, they wish they hadn't.

Warnings: brief angsty episode, mention of Geralt's traumatic childhood

Also, I love that art! Holy Shit!? So of course this had to feature before the fic <3

Travelling with Jaskier had its downfalls.

For one, the bard talks a lot. He never stops, not even in his sleep, and that would drive any man insane if you ask Geralt. He listens to Jaskier waffling about poetry all day, every day, he doesn’t have to endure a lecture on the benefits of iambic pentameters when he’s trying to fall asleep, thank you very much. Jaskier also likes to complain about every little thing that causes him discomfort, which when they’re on the path, ranges from fly bites all the way to sore feet. Travelling with a human also means that they travel considerably slower, unless they’re both riding on top of Roach, but Geralt doesn’t like putting his best girl under that kind of strain very often.

For all of Jaskier’s flaws, Geralt would hate to have to separate from his bard. At least, when Jaskier is close by, Geralt can keep an eye on him and make sure Jaskier doesn’t get himself into any unnecessary trouble. Having Jaskier travel with him gives Geralt peace of mind. He appreciates the singing as well, even if he could stand to tell Jaskier this a bit more often. Geralt deems that his bard’s ego is plenty inflated without Geralt making it worse. Not to mention that life always seems a little bit brighter when Jaskier is around, and the nights are a little less lonely as Geralt gets to pull his bard close and fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart. Knowing that Jaskier is safe is the only thing that lets Geralt sleep peacefully at night.

You’d think that after nearly two decades of knowing his bard, Geralt would have figured out Jaskier’s secret by now. Geralt is, of course, referring to Jaskier’s near supernatural ability to always come up with coin when he and Geralt need it most urgently. Geralt has no idea how the bard does it - his songs are popular, granted, and on a good night Jaskier makes enough to buy a nice room for the night and the better pieces of meat from the kitchen. Still, being a bard doesn’t pay that well, not even if you were as famous as Jaskier. Just last week, Geralt’s horse and most of his belonging were stolen by bandits, leaving Geralt travelling on foot and too poor to afford to buy a new horse. Two days later, Jaskier came trotting up to their camp atop a gorgeous mare, looking mighty pleased with himself but refusing to tell Geralt how he managed to afford to pay for the horse.

“Would you believe me if I told you I stole her, Geralt, my dear?”

“Not in a million years,” Geralt admitted deadpan, pulling an offended squawk from his songbird.

“Just because I’m a bard you don’t think I can steal a horse?”

“I don’t think you could ever steal a horse because you’re as stealthy as the proverbial bull in the porcelain shop.”

It’s not just the horse, though. Geralt’s armour needed replacing and good armour doesn’’t come cheaply. Geralt doesn’t hire the services of just any blacksmith or armourer to craft his weapons and protective gear. He has his regular suppliers, the ones he always goes back to because he knows that their work is reliable and of the highest quality. And even though these people know Geralt by now, even offer him a friends and family discount on occasion, their wares still come at a hefty price. Geralt, as it turns out, didn’t have the coin to replace his armour for a few months. He desperately needed new boots, though. A new pair of breeches wouldn’t hurt either, and his silver sword broke in half whilst fighting a particularly vicious griffin a few weeks back.

Geralt didn’t even mention all of this to Jaskier. That didn’t stop the bard from going ahead and commissioning a brand new suit of armour, new silver and steel swords, as well as a few casual clothes for Geralt to wear on the warmer summer days. All of this must have cost an arm, a leg and a fucking lung, and yet Jaskier acted like he didn’t just break the bank all for Geralt’s benefit. He didn’t even get anything for himself and that realisation had Geralt feeling slightly embarrassed about the gesture.

“You don’t have to buy me all this stuff, Jask.”

“I know that, dearest,” Jaskier assured him, eyes soft and an easy smile playing on his lips, “but I wanted to. Only the best for you, my sweet witcher.”

The mystery of where Jaskier managed to find the coin to pay for all this remains unsolved, despite Geralt’s questioning. Well, if Jaskier won’t outright tell him, then Geralt will just have to investigate the matter by himself.

"Where the fuck did you get your hand on all the coin to pay for all this?" Geralt asks one evening, blunt and straight to the point. There was probably a kinder and gentler way to ask this, but after spending weeks mulling over Jaskier's sudden new-found fortune, Geralt has lost the little patience he possessed in the matter. Jaskier, on the other hand, looks perfectly unperturbed.

"From the bank," he offers simply as he sprinkles expensive herbs over the hare Geralt caught earlier that evening, "you know, where people deposit their valuables? I know you witchers don't believe in bank accounts, savings and interests, but-"

"Where does the coin come from?" Geralt interrupts, hissing those words through clenched teeth.

"Why, my inheritance."

Geralt stares for a long while. It takes his brain several seconds to catch up to what Jaskier is telling him, and another few seconds to make sense of the words. Inheritance?

"What inheritance?"

"Well, when my father passed away he left me and my siblings a share of his wealth. That's how inheritance works. Say, pass me my satchel my dear, I think I have some more spices in there."

Geralt wordlessly hands Jaskier his satchel, still trying to process this new discovery. Come to think of it, Geralt knows precious little about Jaskier's family. Sure, that's probably on him for never asking, but Geralt has grown so used to Jaskier oversharing every aspect of his life that he never needed to ask his bard anything. Jaskier just… never talked about his family. Or his childhood, or his upbringing. His life story seems to always begin when he was a student at Oxenfurt.

Geralt is growing curiouser by the minute.

"When did your father pass?"

"Oh? Uh… good question. Maybe a few years after I went to Oxenfurt? I'm not sure. I received a letter from the bank notifying me that a share of my father's wealth was deposited in my account."

Geralt frowns. "You never went back to find out what happened?"

"No."

Well, that's an oddly abrupt response, and Jaskier doesn't seem like he's got anything to say on the matter. Which only makes Geralt feel more curious about the whole thing.

"Why not?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier heaves a sigh before putting on a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, too tense to be genuine. "My father and I didn't get along. I felt no need to go mourn him with the rest of my noble family in Lettenhove when he passed. That's it. That's all there's to it. I was not a good enough man to refuse my share of the inheritance, either, despite my non-existent relationship with him."

That's a lot to unpack. Geralt always assumed that Jaskier had a good childhood. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he, considering Geralt spent his own childhood being tortured by magnanimous and sadistic mages. Where most children got to spend time outside helping out in the fields or playing with their friends, Geralt was put through drill after drill, after drill… until he was physically unable to walk so much his muscles hurt.

"Wait… did you say your noble family?"

"Hm?"

"In Lettenhove… there's nothing in Lettenhove. Only the Viscount and his family live there on a large esta-" Geralt's mouth clicks shut as realisation dawns on him. "Your father was the Viscount of Lettenhove?"

"Yes. And since I'm the oldest, after he died that title passed onto me. But I much prefer being a bard, so I graciously devolved my duties to my younger brother, who now manages the estate. Are we done with this conversation?"

"I didn't mean to make you mad…"

Geralt watches Jaskier stop dead in his tracks, his shoulders briefly tensing at those words, before exhaling loudly through his nose. Jaskier anxiously rubs the back of his neck as he straightens up and offers Geralt a sheepish smile, that one warmer and softer than the previous one.

"Sorry, dear heart. I didn't mean to be so short with you. It's just… well, there's a reason I don't bring up my family all that much."

"Hm." Geralt gently taps the spot next to him on his bedroll, and Jaskier doesn't have to be told twice. Soon, Geralt has one arm wound tightly around Jaskier's shoulders. Not quite a hug, but the intention is there all the same, and Jaskier eagerly melts in the embrace. "I shouldn't have insisted. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You did nothing wrong." Jaskier nuzzles the crook of Geralt's neck sweetly before depositing a featherlight kiss just over his pulse point. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Geralt ponders over that question far too long before whispering an answer in the air pocket between them.

"Did he hurt you?"

Jaskier hesitates.

"Not physically, no. He didn't approve of my aspirations and choices. He didn't support me. I suppose it hurt a little when he didn't see me away to Oxenfurt at the age of 15, but he never raised a hand on me."

"Hm." Good, Geralt thinks. No child should ever have to suffer at the hand of an adult. Geralt earned plenty a beating at Kaer Morhen, some justified and others not so much. Just because he went through this doesn't mean he condones it.

"At least I get to spend his money on someone I love," Jaskier offers softly, eyes as blue as the deepest ocean glancing up at Geralt through dark lashes, “That, at least, the old man can’t take away from me.”

A happy little rumble bubbles up Geralt's chest, despite the blush gracing his cheeks.

"I never thanked you for the gifts." Geralt blushes a deeper shade of red at the realisation. "Sorry. It's been a long year."

"Well, good thing we're heading North soon then, hm?" Jaskier straightens up so he can cradle Geralt's face in his lute-calloused hands. Their eyes meet then, amber seeking out blue, and Geralt thinks that he must be the luckiest son of a bitch in all the Continent.

"Yes," he agrees in a whisper, tilting his face to place a kiss on the inside of Jaskier's wrist, "good thing, indeed."

Request a prompt

[ickymichi]

Denji having a crush on someone who ISNT makima and ISNT fucking crazy. Just a normal stupid person. Please.

TA- DA!!

warnings: fluff, denji being a qt <3

word count: 1k

<3 note: tyssm for this i luv u 🧎‍♀️🤲. psa me n all the homies hate makima‼️🗣 also anyone pls request denji i luv writing for my bby. reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

hotboyissei 2021

The ding of the bell on the door of the small café brought your head up from the countertop you here cleaning. Instantly you recognised the blonde head of hair bouncing towards you. “oh hello again denji! Would you like what you always have?”. For the past two weeks denji had been coming to the same café every afternoon he wasn’t busy to- well for two things really. 1) for the amazing coffee, teas and delicious desserts. And 2) for him to see you, one would say it was just a teenage crush, no denji was sure It was love, that he was the one for you. Ms. Makima couldn’t compare to the beauty you held, no she could never. And you were so kind to him, always sitting down beside him to chat about his and your lifestyles, until your annoying boss would come giving out about you slacking off. Yes, he was certain it was love between the two of you.

Which is why today was the day he’d ask you out on an actual date. It took a lot of courage and guidance from Aki but he was finally here standing infront of you. “oh umm actually I came to ask ya something.” Cocking your head to the side slightly you placed down the cleaning rag and made your way around the counter to stand in front of him. “oh? Well then okay! What is it?”. Wait, he didn’t actually think he’d get this far. ‘Think, think, think idiot, what did Aki tell you?’ he thought to himself trying to go back through his and Aki’s conversation before he left. Not realising how long he was standing there thinking you reached forward and softy tapped his shoulder. “denji? Is everything okay?”. Feeling your hand on his shoulder his flushed face shot up to look at yours. “huuh?! Oh yeah! Everythings fine. Pl-please come on a date with me!” he clenched his eyes shut after finishing his sentence, not wanting to see you laughing at his silly question. After not hearing your laughter he peeled open one eye and seen you looking at him with a soft smile on your face. “of course, i’d love to go on a date with you denji! i have the day off on Friday so how about then?”. He stood opposite you with wide eyes like he just saw a devil for the first time. He shook his head to get out of his daze and then nodded his head rapidly. “Fridays great! See you then (y/n) bye bye!”.

And with that he ran out the café door with a proud smile on his face going back home to shove it in Aki and powers face. “Awe yeah baby woohoo!” he shouted out and jumped up into the air, not realising you could still see him and laughed at the boy.

Friday came quicker than both of you expected and now you’re walking towards a bouncing denji who jogs to meet you halfway. “hi (y/n)! these are for you!” he pulls a paper bag of cookies from behind his back and pushing them towards your hands. You look into the bag and see them and surprisingly they smell amazing. “awe thank you denji, did you make these?”. He looks at you and blinks twice before responding, “oh no I bought them over there” he smiles, showing his sharp teeth while pointing to a small shop to your left. You couldn’t contain your laughter and he felt his cheeks grow hot again when looking at your wide smile. “Let’s go!”. He abruptly says and takes your free hand in his own. You didn’t expect him to be so forward so when he grabbed the said limb, you couldn’t help but look down at his hand engulfing you own. it’s rough and calloused, but it’s a nice contrast against your soft palm.

The day consisted of denji brining you to the cinema to see a scary movie- the whole time you had a hand on his forearm and ducked into his shoulder when an especially scary scene popped up. And yes, you did have one of those cliché ‘hands touching when reaching for popcorn moments’. He then walked around the shopping mall and went into nearly every shop, laughing when you would take turns to pick out ugly clothes and try them on. He did actually buy you something without you knowing, but he was gonna wait a bit till he gave it to you of course. A few hours later hunger overcame the both of you so denji found a fast food restaurant nearby and dug into the food.

By now the sky was dark and filled with starts so you decided to sit on a grass hill and gaze at the starts. After about 5 minutes silence denji sat up and pulled something from his pocket. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him fiddling with the box until he saw you looking over at him. “Ta-da! I got this for you, here you go.” Sitting up beside him you looked at the dainty box, gently taking it from his hands you opened it and felt your heart swell slightly. Inside was a small gold chain with your name in the middle. “I r-remembered you mentioned that you wanted to save for one a while ago so I got one for you.” Looking up from the box, a smile broke out and without thinking you lunged forward into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, the two of you crashing back down onto the ground. “woah! thank you so so much denji this is so sweet!, I don’t know how to thank you.” suddenly his eyes lit up and he smirked slightly before tapping his cheek. Immediately you knew what he wanted and you giggled softly before leaving in and placing a small kiss on his cheek. When you pulled back he was looking at you with that smile, the one where his cheeks are stretched and his sharp teeth on display. You gave him one more peck before leaning onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“thank you for today denji, it was the most fun i’ve had in a while.”

“oh, yeah of course!, does that mean we can do this again?”

“we can do it however time you’d like.”

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

In your latest post, you said that Dumbledore MEANT to put Harry in a abusive household. That, or when he found out he did nothing to stop it. Why is that?

You’re going to get a lot of people angry with me. Well, I suppose they’re already angry. Somewhere out there, on the wider internet.

Right, anyway, the evidence of Harry’s abuse is so overwhelming that it seems improbable to me that Dumbledore wasn’t aware of what was happening. More, every interaction he has with not only Harry, but characters in similar circumstances, lends me to believe that in the event that Dumbledore does know he’d take no action.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Scene 1

We start out the entire Harry Potter series with Minerva and Dumbledore waiting in the early dawn for Hagrid’s arrival and to place Harry with the Dursleys. Minerva immediately announces her discomfort with this, 

She specifically says the following:

"You don't mean — you can't mean the people who live here? Dumbledore, you can't. You couldn't find two people who are less like us."

Lily Evans’ relatives are infamous enough such that Minerva McGonagall, who is presumably not as close as her like aged peers (i.e. Sirius, Remus, and Peter) knows about them.

Granted, some of this is anti-muggle sentiment. Minerva isn’t sure that suburban muggles raising a magical child like Harry Potter is a good idea. Nevertheless, she has deep misgivings, and relays them to Dumbledore.

We know from further evidence that Dumbledore is perfectly aware of what Petunia and Vernon are like as well. He gives Harry to the Dursleys anyway.

Dumbledore, for his own reasons, chooses not to listen.

Dumbledore’s Letter to Petunia

Dumbledore writes a letter to Petunia, knowing it is highly necessary, as he gives Harry to the family. The letter is... vaguely threatening but in a very polite Dumbledore way. It pretty much implies “Take Harry, or else, also be nice to your dead sister.”

The point is, Dumbledore is aware that this letter is highly necessary. And then... other things happen.

Dumbledore Sends Hagrid

Dumbledore sends Hagrid to pick Harry up.

Ordinarily, in such circumstances, Minerva is sent to introduce muggleborn children to the Wizarding World. “Perhaps she was busy,” you say, too busy for Harry Potter? Wizard Jesus and the child of perhaps her favorite students who she openly favors throughout the series?

“Perhaps Dumbledore was being nice to Hagrid, and he had an errand to do anyway,” well, it’s all well and good to be nice to Hagrid, but is he really the best guy to introduce anybody to the Wizarding World?

This is Hagrid, the likelihood of him having taken Harry to an exotic pet shop where Harry then gets eaten by the Chupacabra is 95%. The 5% where it didn’t happen is because Hagrid went to the pet shop alone and some, distant, rational part of his brain told him that Harry would want the pretty owl vs. the one-eyed blood sucking rat demon in the cage next to her.

You don’t send Hagrid if you want a child returned to you with all its limbs intact.

So why do you send Hagrid?

When you want someone who’s so painfully oblivious, loyal, and stupid that they could stare a hellscape in the face and wouldn’t even notice.

Hagrid gets a firsthand view of Harry’s living conditions. He learns that Harry’s relatives have been actively blocking Harry’s letters, that they have run across the country to avoid them. He sees the state of Harry’s clothing in comparison to Dudley, how thin Harry is in comparison to Dudley, and the way the family interacts with each other.

Harry’s child abuse is staring Hagrid right in the face.

Minerva would demand that Harry be placed somewhere else, they can find some other means of protecting him.

What does Hagrid do?

He gives Dudley a pig’s tail illegally and proceeds to tell Harry that Dumbledore is the greatest man who ever lived. 

Other Evidence Comes to Light

Other characters start getting pretty big warning signs that all’s not right at the Potters.

Ron and Hermione know the situation is “bad” and that Harry’s relatives “hate magic”. They’re also kids and don’t really understand what this means, the idea of being abused and hated by your guardians is unthinkable to them and Harry doesn’t come out and just say it.

That said, they’ve seen enough that they drop hints to those around them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are told about the bars on Harry’s window. Ron was so concerned about Harry in the summer after first year that he steals his father’s car with Fred and George to go pick him up. That is not normal behavior, that is deep concern for your friend.

Despite all of this... nothing happens.

Hermione spends far more time at the Weasleys then Harry ever does. Every summer, he returns to Privet Drive, and it’s likely if Arthur and Molly did have concerns Dumbledore told them off.

Arabella Figg

Arabella has been keeping an eye on Harry for years. She’s noted some very disturbing trends and been witness to years of the Dursleys interacting with Harry Potter.

She passes this information on to Dumbledore.

He knows how bad it is.

Harry Potter

Harry tells Dumbledore he does not wish to remain at the Dursleys, he notes that they don’t like him and he doesn’t like them. Now, he tries to downplay it, but this is a child saying some pretty disturbing things. You don’t brush this off.

Dumbledore does.

Dumbledore Visits the Dursleys

In book 6, Dumbledore visits the Dursleys and sees, in person, how bad it is. However, he shows no surprise, only vague disappointment in Petunia. Tsk, tsk, Petunia, I thought you were better than this.

He offers a few threats and then he and Harry go on their merry way.

Severus Snape

Snape is Dumbledore’s spy who reads Harry’s mind for half a year. Granted, Snape is a bastard who loathes Harry Potter, but he sees evidence of the Dursleys abuse of Harry.

We know, from what he relays to Dumbledore later, that he had at least some concern for Harry and was very disturbed by Dumbledore’s plan to murder him in cold blood due to the horcrux.

I think it’s very likely Severus Snape knew and told Dumbledore that Harry was being abused. I’m sure Albus’ response was, “Bitch, I know, would you like a lemon drop?”

Point being, there is no conceivable way that Albus Dumbledore, even if he was the world’s dumbest man, didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He let’s it happen anyway.

But What About the Blood Wards?

Dumbledore eventually tells Harry that the reason he can’t run away from Privet Drive is because of the blood wards created by his mother. They can only be applied if he lives with blood relatives and protect the Dursley house as long as Harry considers it home.

Now, this is a bit suspect given that Harry really considers Hogwarts his home, Privet Drive is just that hell hole he has to go back to every summer. Even the Burrow is more his home than Privet Drive so... That doesn’t sound right.

More, though, there are other means of protection.

There’s the Fidelius which Dumbledore casts on Sirius’ house in book 5. Given that, Harry really could have lived with Sirius (well, Sirius is not in a good place to have a kid around and that would be a disaster and a half). Point being, Harry could be raised elsewhere and there are wards that could protect him.

More, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are out of commission for thirteen years. Indeed, we see Dumbledore up Harry’s security detail by secretly assigning the Order to tail him after fourth year.

So, for a very long time, it’s not about Harry’s protection and when it does become that we see Dumbledore make significant changes.

So, what could it be?

Well, let’s look at Dumbledore’s other actions. Dumbledore prevents Harry from becoming prefect because “he thought it would go to his head”. Which, Harry should absolutely not be made prefect at all, and Ron’s a laughable candidate too but...

To me that’s very telling.

I hate to say this, but this is Dumbledore, but I think he has a very similar reasoning behind Harry going to the Dursleys.

He doesn’t want Harry to be corrupted by the Boy Who Lived persona. He wants him in a certain state of mind when he enters into the wizarding world and... Frankly, he wants him vulnerable. Dumbledore, in time, will need to either murder this boy or have him kill himself. If Harry has a halfway decent guardian, that task becomes a hell of a lot harder.

Harry has to love the wizarding world so much, trust Dumbledore so much, that these things are worth dying for.

You Mentioned Something About Dumbledore’s Other Actions?

Dumbledore has no sympathy for victims of child abuse.

Tom Riddle, an impoverished orphan loathed by those in his orphanage, he thinks is the very devil and sends him back into the Blitz with a smile and a wave. Enjoy the bombs, Tom, hope you die.

Severus Snape, the half blood child of an abusive muggle father and absentee mother, who is nearly murdered by Sirius Black via Remus Lupin, is told to shut the fuck up and sit down before he ruins the lives of his betters.

Dumbledore has a very bad track record with this and, well, Harry Potter is not an exception.

To be fair, I think the wizarding world has not concept of CPS or even child abuse. There’s no hint of a foster system, you go to the closest relative of the godparents. So, I think to them, you’re stuck with whoever you’re stuck with and if your uncle rapes you then it sucks to be you.