#Thinking about recording myself playing something and like. Actually talking bc maybe that would help with getting myself to actually talk

[zackcharine]

i need a walking around aimlessly tag so bad and i also. Need to stop my brain from fucking with what the ep actually representsJXHXBD

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ So!! I needed a bit of fluff and humour after THAT EPISODE !! and after seeing their adorable lil faces in the bts pics with the medals this little ... cold open esque prologue? to 7x09 came to me in a lunch break :P enjoy!

note: contains a multitude of weewooified details about lafd and the military, for dramatic and humourous effect, plz don't @ me

Firefam. No spoilers outside of trailers. (~1600wd). Humour, but with angst bc I can’t stop myself putting these guys in Situations

bait and switch

The seats in the hallway are typical of any waiting room: plastic arms, kind of sticky, and weirdly cheap and tacky considering the significance of the life events about to occur in their occupants. The walls are a burnt-orange red. Fitting, if ominous.

The clock on the wall ticks on.

“Evan's been in there a long time,” Tommy observes.

“Too long,” Hen agrees.

“He's probably gone out the other way,” Chimney speculates grimly. ”Doesn't want us to see the broken shell of a man Gerrard's turned him into.”

Eddie sits a few seats away, with his eyes closed, envisioning himself as a puddle of jello. Well, he was. Well. He was trying to. He cracks an eye open.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Chim.”

“You're welcome.” Chimney huffs. He wishes he had his phone. Maybe he could text Maddie to call him away with some emergency. Sure he'd only be delaying the inevitable, but he'd take any respite at this point.

Eddie laughs. “Come on. He can't be that bad.”

Hen, Chim and Tommy fix him with a glare that tells him he knows not of what he speaks.

“Easy for you to say,” Chimney challenges. “We can't all have interrogation training.”

“What is it you think I actually did over there?”

Chim's been reading too much Zero Dark Thirty. Eddie rolls his eyes. But maybe there's something to having his military days at the top of his mind, because when the doors swing open he all but jumps to his feet, back ramrod straight. He wonders all of a sudden if he's somehow put his badges on backwards or something and it's all he can do not to fret with his collar and sleeves. He's heard the stories. He might have lucked out with Bobby as his Captain, but he's had drill sergeants like this Gerrard guy, and the performance anxiety is real.

“Firefighter Diaz.”

“Yessir.”

“Please come through.”

“Yessir.”

He follows obediently, his hands clasped behind his back in some kind of attention pose he isn't even deliberately aware of knowing how to do. The rest of them will take the piss out of him later, he's sure.

The doors close behind him.

The waiting resumes.

Chimney bounces a knee.

“They're doing this on purpose, you know,” he mutters, not quite to himself. “To make us sweat. I'm playing right into their hands.”

“I don't get it,” Hen muses, turning their situation over in her head. “I thought we were in the clear. No credit, no crime, right?”

Tommy shrugs. “You know how it is. Sometimes the brass likes to have their cake and eat it to.”

“I guess.” Hen sighs. “I'm sorry, guys. Let me talk to them. I meant it when I said I didn't want any of this to blow back on you – especially you, Tommy.”

“Hey.” He shakes his head, and waves her off. “I throw in, I'm all in.”

“Yeah,” Chim agrees. “We're in this together. Spartacuses. Spartaci? Although... I'd like to state for the record that per to the Geneva Convention I can't be held responsible for anything I may or may not say under duress.”

Hen all but rolls her eyes at him. Geneva Convention or no – and she's almost certain that particular one is a no - she's been locked up with the man and forced to watch him flatline repeatedly and he still figured out how to help save them both. There's not a force in this world that would make him throw her under the bus.

“It's gonna be okay, Chim,” she promises. Even squeezes his hand, for good measure.

But this time, the door opens too quickly. Maybe Gerrard is doing it just to mess with them after all. Still no Buck. No Eddie.

“Firefighter Han,” the bailiff-type beckons.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and mutters quickly as he stands-

“Tell Maddie I love her, show Jee Yun pictures of my face!”

Then, with a dull BOOM!, the doors are closed again.

And then there are two.

Hen hangs her head. Lets out a breath.

Tommy lets his fall back against the wall.

After a while, they switch.

Tommy's head drops forward, resting on his hands resting on his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs circles on his own knuckles. Hen stretches her feet out in front of her, tips her head back and closes her eyes. She even tries Eddie's jello thing. She's never really been much of a jello person though, honestly, so instead, she copes by breaking the silence.

“What about you then, Kinard? Ever been court martialled?”

“No,” he says. “Although, I did get a summary once.”

“What for?”

“Conduct unbecoming.”

He looks up, and there's a glint of mischief in his eye that tells her exactly what kind of conduct. Hen's jaw slackens.

“No way. Team Jacob, huh?”

“Taylor Lautner? Please. I'm only a man.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn't think much of it at the time. I mean, I got scared straight for sure - Got a slap on the wrist, a lot of hoo ha about an other than honourable discharge, so I pulled my head in. But I also figured, plenty of straight guys have 'experiences' on tour. Took me a while to put the pieces together.”

“How'd you figure it out? I mean without a hot pilot boyfriend of your own to sweep you off your feet.” “Ha, ha.” He fixes her with a meaningful gaze, and smiles. “Actually, I got yelled at by this really brave black lesbian firefighter. You could say she inspired me to do some introspection.”

“Yeah, well. We do have that effect on people.”

She is definitely not blushing and even more definitely not thinking about that time she cried in front of him. It's the last thing she needs, when the doors open again and he nods and disappears and then she's alone.

Then again, she thinks, maybe it's not the worst thing she could be thinking about. Gerrard used to have so much power over her. Over her mood. Over how she spent her day. What is she doing, giving him another day of her life? Sure, part of her is terrified and drenched in guilt that she's very possibly single-handedly ended the careers of most of her closest friends. But the other part of her – the bigger part, and only growing as she gives voice to it – knows she hasn't single-handedly done a thing, and that she would have just as soon thrown her lot in with any of them if they'd asked, or even if they hadn't. She's abseiled a collapsing bridge with them; been shot at; been kidnapped; put her life, her wife's life in their hands; held theirs in hers. She's sung in front of most of them; subjected them to her cooking; they've born witness to her tears and to her happy dances more times than she can count. At the end of the day, she has no regrets. So she's feeling a lot stronger by the time those doors open for her.

She takes a deep breath and strides forward, and notices straight away that the air in here is – weird.

It's not just Gerrard, there's several officials and even the Fire Chief. Bobby isn't here. He probably isn't allowed to be, as both the subject of the illicit rescue and Captain of the accused, so it's not surprising, but the absence of his steady presence rooting for her stings. These guys? It feels like they're all laughing at her. Like they're in on something she doesn't know – like maybe how delicious Gerrard is finding it that he gets to deliver the final blow. He was the one who gave her her badge after all, albeit reluctantly. It's weirdly fitting that he be the one to take it away. Although. She'd expected him to look a lot happier about it.

“Firefighter Wilson.”

“Captain Gerrard.”

“Is it true that on the evening of April 6 2024 to the morning of April 7 2024 you aided and abetted the appropriation of city resources including but not limited to rostered firefighters, radar technology, and an LAFD helicopter to conduct an unauthorised rescue operation on the cruise ship Ocean Joy?”

“Yes.”

“Your friends tell me you masterminded the operation.”

Deep breaths, Wilson. You knew this was coming.

“It was my idea. The others, they were just helping me follow a hunch. I take full responsibility.”

Gerrard gives a loud, pointed sigh. She can't figure out if he's impressed or thinks she's bullshitting him. Maybe both.

“Some hunch,” he says.

She clenches her jaw as she watches the man come down from the tribunal table. He takes his time on his way to her and she tries to keep looking straight ahead, like it doesn't matter to her what intention is glistening behind those beady shark eyes. He's getting so close now that he could just about rip the badge straight off her chest. Is that what's about to happen? To nearly twenty years of her life? She braces herself. Holds her breath. Mustn't let him see her cry.

He holds out a piece of paper. She blinks down at it.

“What's this?”

Her knees are numb but hold her up somehow nonetheless as she takes the paper and unfolds it.

PROUD TO PRESENT – HENRIETTA WILSON – with the MEDAL OF VALOUR

“I...”

Am I dreaming?

She blinks. Stammers. Looks around.

“What??”

[taetaespeaches]

“To me, he’s everything.”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 2.9K beta reader(s): @stayjimin​

a/n: Hi lovelies! Why did I decide to write sad Tae? To make us all suffer perhaps? This is about Tae going through some stuff and writing pieces of Blue & Grey (with the english lyrics bc this is early stages) and Peaches trying to provide him comfort. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

Waking up in the early morning, the sky was still dark making it difficult to see your surroundings. Grunting to yourself you lightly tossed underneath the comforter. Sighing, you reached out to feel the empty spot next to you, confirming your suspicions that your lover had left the bed sometime earlier in the night.

Sitting up, you focused your gaze on the dark shape of your dresser across the room as you listened closely for sounds outside the bedroom. Hearing none, you lifted yourself from the bed, a blanket in tow as you made your way out of the room.

The hallway was lit up from the glow of the living room light, and as you wrapped the blanket over your shoulders, your ears perked at the sound of Taehyung’s low timbre humming a mix of words and incoherent melody.

Stepping quietly across the floor, you listened intently to the few words you could understand. “I just wanna be happier,” rang in your ears, your heart pounding at the weight of the lyrics that came straight from your boyfriend’s mouth. Standing in the living room just feet away from where he sat on the floor, Taehyung took notice of you, his mouth opening in surprise.

“Did I wake you?” He asked, his eyes wide with guilt though you gently shook your head. “You sure?”

“Maybe your absence,” you smiled softly. He tried to return the expression, but it failed to meet his eyes. And that was the smile you’d been receiving for the past few weeks. His famous boxy grin, your favorite, was being flashed around much less in the recent days. “It’s like I can feel when you’re gone,” you told him quietly.

He didn’t respond, instead leaning back on his hands to support himself as he stared at your disheveled appearance. With a small head nod gesturing for you to go to him, you quickly and easily obliged.

You would have to be completely oblivious to not notice the man’s mood change in the past weeks; how he had more low days than high. It wasn’t the first time Tae had gone through something like this. He had a habit of pulling away and dealing with his emotions and thoughts in private, and you had learned over your several years of friendship to give him the space to work through it all before he would eventually come to you for help with whatever feelings remained.

But this bout seemed to hit him harder than in the past. And he hadn’t come to you yet.

Sitting next to him, you both stared into each other’s eyes, his darkened circles prominent on his golden skin.

“You look tired,” he noted, your eyebrows raising slightly. Sliding the banket of your shoulders, you draped it over yours and Taehyung’s laps.

“So do you,” you countered, the man’s lips curving upward just the tiniest bit as you tucked the blanket around his thighs. “Are you ever gonna share this track with me that’s been taking up so much of your time?” You questioned, playing up your jealousy of the subject of his attention.

“Are you feeling neglected, Peaches?” He teased, a glint flashing over his eyes for a quick moment that had your lungs exhaling in a brief relief.

“Of course not,” you smirked. “But like, I did wake up alone only to find you out here canoodling with this song again so,” you trailed off, Taehyung letting out a low chuckle, amused by your feigned bitterness for his newest creation.

“What was that?” He asked, your eyebrows raising in question. “Canood- what?”

“Canoodling,” you giggled lightly. He flashed you a look of confusion, a smile overtaking your features at how cute he appeared. “It means, like, cuddling,” you paused, “I think?” For the first time in a few days, Taehyung’s boxy smile overtook his face, meeting his eyes for just a brief moment. “Maybe that wasn’t the right word,” you thought aloud as Taehyung’s hand found yours, his fingers lightly squeezing yours.

Raising your hand to his lips, he left a sweet kiss to the back of it. “You’re the only one I want to canoodle with,” he assured you lightheartedly, you squinting at him skeptically.

“Well that’s just not true, I caught you cuddled up with Jungkook just last week,” you pointed out, Taehyung chuckling as he dropped his head so he looked down toward his lap. Watching him carefully, you admired the way his low laugh tumbled from his pretty lips. When he looked back toward you, his eyes widened.

“What?” He asked, taken aback by your intent stare.

Shaking your head, you turned your hand in his grasp to intertwine your fingers with his own. “What’s been going on, Dearest?” You asked him, your voice soft and quiet, gentle and concerned. He gave you a questioning expression, silently asking you to elaborate, though you both knew where the conversation was headed. “Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

The man stared at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your features, clocking the concern etched within them. Sighing, he shrugged.

“Are you ok?” You asked him, watching as he clenched his jaw, shrugging once more. “Oh, baby,” you whispered through a small pout, squeezing his hand as he took a deep breath, attempting to calm his emotions.

Leaning toward him, you wrapped your other arm around his head, holding him so his face was placed in the crook of your neck. When his body shook slightly, you let go of his hand to bring your arms around his body, cradling him against you.

Neither of you spoke for several minutes, instead simply embracing each other as you allowed Taehyung the space and comfort to feel his feelings. Eventually, he lifted his head from your neck, his face level with yours though he avoided your eyes. Lifting your hands to his face, you gently used your thumbs to wipe under his eyes before flattening your palms against his cheeks to dab the wetness from them.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you sooner,” you told him, your voice soft but adamant, Taehyung’s eyes snapping to meet yours.

“Peaches, no,” he shook his head, though you cut him off with your own negation.

“No, I knew something was wrong, but I was just waiting for you to come to me,” you told him. “I should have talked to you sooner,” you insisted, one of your hands falling from his face to your lap, the other sliding down to his shoulder where you simply kept it, to show him you were there. You weren’t going anywhere.

Taking another deep breath in, Taehyung shook his head once more. Reaching for his phone, you watched as he tapped on the screen a few times before his low vocals resonated from the speaker, replaying the sounds you heard earlier that night.

The lyrics were a mix of random mumblings with stunning but sad lines of English that proved every suspicion you had of Taehyung being sad and lost.

“I’m sick and tired of everything, someone come save myself ‘cause I can’t take it anymore.”

He was crying out for help in this song; help from himself, his own mind. The man was begging for someone to come to his aid, just to lessen the pain.

“Every time I cry, every time I smile, can you look at me ‘cause I am blue and grey.”

As you watched him carefully, his gaze set on the phone in his hands as the soundwaves went up and down with his vocals, tears filled your eyes. Taehyung’s fans often took his quietness as a warning sign for how he was feeling. However, growing up alongside Taehyung, you’d witnessed the shift from an excitable young boy to a slightly less excitable grown man. You’d been there with him as his personality developed; matured.

No, his silence was never a warning sign for you. It could be quite comforting, actually. The warning sign was when his smile failed to meet his eyes. You’d seen it over the past days, weeks. Staring at him as the melody cut through the heavy air, all you could think was, why didn’t I help you, Dearest?

“I just wanna be happier, baby don’t you let me go.” The lyrics melted into sounds again before he sang melancholically, “Wish I could be stronger.” The recording cut, and Taehyung’s eyes stayed on the phone screen.

Squeezing his shoulder lightly, you dragged your hand toward the back of his neck so your fingers could sooth across his nape. “It’s beautiful,” you croaked, clearing your voice as Taehyung’s gaze shot up to meet yours, the emotion in your tone startling him. “It is,” you told him sincerely.

“Thank you,” he barely muttered, his eyes alert, his shoulders raised as if he was holding his breath.

“When you’re not ok, I’ll be your rock, you know,” you assured him, an exhale leaving his lips just before he wet them with a swipe of his tongue. “I should have addressed it sooner, but I know now,” you added with a small nod. “So lean on me.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” he resisted, though you could see in his eyes he desperately wanted the shoulder you were offering to him.

“Tae,” you breathed out with a small smile. “You’re too considerate for your own good, you know that?” Scoffing in response, he licked his lips once more. “You could never burden me. I’m your partner,” you whispered, your hand moving to cradle his jaw as you spoke to him.

With a sigh, his shoulders relaxed just as he leaned into your touch, resting his chin in your hand just slightly. You could feel the weight of it, and you were thankful for it.

“I just-” his lip trembled. “I have this great life,” he mumbled as his face contorted just the tiniest bit, tears brimming his eyelid but not yet falling. “I have this dream career, partner,” he nodded to you, “home life,” he glanced to the open room. “I have great friends, all these fans,” he shook his head as a tear slid down his cheek, collecting on the flesh of your thumb. “And yet, I’m still so fucking lost,” he sighed in frustration.

Instead of speaking, you moved your hand to gently swipe under his eyes with your thumb. “I don’t know, it’s just stupid,” he directed his gaze across the room, his stare intense though he wasn’t looking at anything in particular.

Shaking your head, you leaned into his line of vision, pulling his attention to you. “It’s not stupid, baby,” you spoke softly to him. “It’s human.”

“What kind of person feels this way when they have all these great things?” He questioned, making you pull your eyebrows together in a slight glare. “I’m sitting here with a woman who loves me and cares for me and I’m crying about feeling lonely and worthless,” he admitted in frustration. “I didn’t even want to tell you about all of this because I don’t want you thinking you’re not enough for me.”

“Tae, I’m not so naïve to think I can be the savior of all your days,” you locked your gaze on his as you spoke to him. “I know you love me, but I’m just a piece of your life, I’m one source of happiness,” you shrugged while shaking your head.

“You’re more than that,” he said sternly, frustrated by your downplayed importance in his life.

“I know that, and I hope I can lessen the pain and make things easier, but I’m never going to be able to make everything ok,” you explained to him. And that was the sad truth. No matter how much you loved him, you could never take his pain away. “That’s just not how things work.” Staring at each other, he gave you a small nod of understanding. “Coming to me with this isn’t going to make me feel insufficient or like I’m not part of your happiness,” you finished, Taehyung nodding as he pulled your hand from his face and held onto it tightly.

As you looked into his gaze, you could see further sadness swirling around his orbs. His irises were the same pretty brown, but the warmth was faded. The cold emotion in them made them appear like a desaturated version of themselves, appearing as an ashen grey.

“What else are you thinking?” You prodded, gently, but insistently.

Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he exhaled deeply, preparing to share more of the feelings he’d been keeping contained behind his stunning features.

“There’s a few things I know about myself,” he started, your attention fully on him as he opened his thoughts with the mysterious statement. “And that’s that I love you, I love my family, and I love being on stage with the guys in front of our fans. And this year I’ve seen how easily that part of me can be stripped away,” he nodded at his own words as your heart felt like it stilled. Because the stage was the one thing you couldn’t give him or assure him of its existence. “And it’s going to happen someday for good.”

You watched him thoughtfully as he explored his own thoughts, gathering them into words that he could speak, in hopes that you would understand.

“And I guess-” he shrugged. “Who’s left without that part of me?”

Without thinking over your response, you answered him with two words. “Kim Taehyung.” His eyes held your own as you cocked your head at him. “He’s left.”

“But who is he?” He asked, his fragile tone making him sound small.

Who is Kim Taehyung? You could fill book after book answering that question, as he was everything.

A small smile curved on your lips as you thought about who Kim Taehyung was to you. “I can’t tell you who he is to you,” you began, locking your eyes with his before you allowed your orbs to drag across his features, appreciating the man, drinking him in. “But to me, he’s everything.”

And at that simple statement, as you stared at your boyfriend’s lips, you noticed the way they just slightly quirked upward before he corrected the expression, remaining serious and self-doubting.

“You know the guy on stage is incredible,” you continued. “V is special and he’s amazing, but this guy right here,” you nodded to him, “sitting in his pajamas, expressing his fears and concerns,” you grinned. “He’s the most brilliant person I’ve ever known.” You watched as his jaw tightened, an obvious sign of the emotion that was bubbling within him.

“You glow, Taehyung. With and without V,” you told him sincerely, your voice becoming shaky as your own emotions made themselves present. “And I don’t mean to downplay that piece of you because he is you and he’s amazing and he’s helped you grow and become this incredible human being, but I just hope you know that with or without that part of yourself, you’re still a masterpiece,” you ranted, in a race to beat the incoming tears. “I hope you can look at yourself one day and see what I see. If only you could spend one day in my shoes and see yourself how I see you.”

The man’s body trembled as he brought a hand to his face, shielding it from you as he cried.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you shook your head, pulling his hand from his eyes. “Don’t hide from me.”

Taking a shaky breath, letting it out with a quiver of his pout, you smiled at him. “That boy who approached me on the street when we were kids wasn’t V. That was Kim Taehyung. The man who makes me toast with jam in the mornings isn’t V. That’s Kim Taehyung. The friend who’s been my shoulder to lean on and cry on all these years, the lover who supports me and believes in me, that’s all Kim Taehyung.”

With tears trickling down your face, mimicking Taehyung’s own emotions, you giggled at the pout on his lips that made him look like a younger version of himself.

“What?” He questioned, a small smile spreading on his lips, almost rectangular but not quite.

“You look like you’re seventeen,” you grinned, sitting up on your knees and inching towards him so you hovered above him, Taehyung’s youthful, tearful gaze looking up at you.

“I can’t fix this, and I can’t make you feel complete, and I can’t take away your concern for the future,” you told him with a small frown. “But I can be here to hold your hand and assure you that you’re going to be ok, whether you believe it right now or not. It’s ok to feel this way, I just don’t want you to feel like you have no one if you’re not on a stage,” you leaned toward him, pushing his dark wavy fringe out of his face to leave a sweet kiss to his forehead. Wrapping your arms around his head, you held his face against your chest as you left another kiss to his hair.

“You have people who love you, but most importantly, you have Kim Taehyung. And he’s my favorite person,” you smiled as you mumbled against his hair. The man hugged around your waist, holding you even closer to him. “I think you’re going to learn to love him,” you whispered through your grin. “He’s pretty fucking lovable.”

[blockgamepirate]

I find it interesting how Wilbur always seems to gravitate towards authoritarian characters when he's roleplaying, even when it's the more casual semi-roleplay of the 100 players challenges. It just seems to be the kind of character he likes playing the way Techno pretty much always makes his characters violent and Tommy usually makes his intentionally obnoxious and hot-headed.

I think it's Wilbur's charisma, it just makes him suited for that kind of role. And his interest in stories about power and politics. The easiest way to get those going is to establish an authority.

I was just watching his capitalist and communist challenge videos and what stuck with me was that the defining attribute in both of those was the authoritarianism, not the economic system. Both times Wilbur was the highest authority and punished everyone harshly if they disobeyed.

Yes, I know it's just funny minecraft videos but come on, how am I NOT supposed to analyse explicitly politically themed content? And I'm just saying it's interesting, I'm not like accusing him of making the videos wrong bc I know it's just entertainment. (I actually REALLY wanna go on a tangent about this but I’ll hold it in for now lol.)

But yeah it's just funny how even Ghostbur still has that authoritarian side. Ghostbur doesn't want to be a leader himself but he still thinks the server needs one. And even c!Wilbur's "anarchist" phase was more about destroying L'Manberg, not because of any anarchist ideals but because it wasn't what he wanted it to be, and it wasn't his anymore.

It's an interesting contradiction in a way because of all his anti-authoritarian rhetoric and being so involved in two revolutions, but it's not incongruous because the point is: ultimately he wants to be in control. He isn't happy with just anyone in power, it has to be him. Not that he necessarily needed ALL of the power: At first he would have been happy with just having the monopoly on drugs, just having his own small business "empire", but when he got denied that, he got more ambitious... and I get the sense that with every obstacle he faces he grows increasingly ambitious.

In a lot if ways Dream is the same, by the way. That's the sense I get from his character. The less in control he feels the more ambitious and authoritarian he gets. That's my read on him.

..... Okay tangent under the cut because I can’t help myself:

I gotta say I do think Wilbur should maybe do a bit more reading on political theory and political history. He's obviously interested in it but his actual knowledge seems pretty limited and superficial, and his political analysis is sometimes just kind of bizarre honestly. Since he likes writing geopolitical stories and political intrigue, it would really benefit his writing too.

I think he should definitely check out some leftist theory, and obviously I'd recommend anarchist theory too lol. Something contemporary, the classics are good and all but they're a bit outdated. And learn some economics too, just making sure to check out various different economical theories because the currently predominant economic theory is just... extremely flawed, frankly. I know I'm showing my bias but hooo boy. You really can't separate it from neoliberal politics, at all, the fact that it's being so heavily promoted has everything to do with politics.

I would recommend Ha-Joon Chang for a capitalist critique of capitalism. I would definitely consider Chang a capitalist but he's basically the least bad kind and has some really good analysis of neocolonialism. From a leftist perspective... idk, I actually struggle more with leftist recs because I'm more critical of my own side lmao. Also a lot of my own introductory reading wasn't in English. But idk, Richard D. Wolff maybe? I kinda have a soft spot for him even if I don't always agree. And like Chang he's good at talking about economics in an understandable way. That's kinda why I often rec these two, because they don't require prior economic education.

Also both of them are actually pretty entertaining. Wolff does these "Global Capitalism" talks which are recorded and posted on YouTube and which are like genuinely fun to watch a lot of the time (or they were back when he was able to have a live audience at least) and Chang has a wry sense of humour. Idk if Wolff would appeal to Wilbur specifically, but I think Chang would.

Btw if you guys can think of other good recs, go ahead and put some in the notes or reblogs. If you put in links I can reblog those additions so they show up.

[theringers]

V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

[crybabykiko]

I just came across you nsfw with Osamu and I really enjoyed it I was wondering if You could do one for Kita?

Hi love! This is for u 💕 and all the kita fuckers worldwide- myself included bc I’m in love with him now 🥺

NSFW Alphabet - Kita Shinsuke

Nsfw below da cut g

gn!reader focus in this hoe

A/n: ty @honey-makki for being my partner in degeneracy and my wife ilysm bc she can read when I can’t

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

Will feed you a full meal. His way of making sure you’re cared for is keeping you well fed. He will cuddle you and spoon feed you himself if he has to, as long as you eat every single bite. He has a routine for everything, aftercare is no exception. He runs you a bath, then, while you soak, he cooks. Will make sure to throw a hoodie in the dryer before heading to the kitchen so it'll be warm for you post shower. Then he feeds you and holds you, playing with your hair or your hands until you fall asleep.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

You already know what the fuck is going onnnn! Kita is honestly so well sculpted that it really doesn’t matter but let’s talk about his back/shoulders. He’s so mf broad and it's very sexc of him. He’s also very fond of when you cling onto and scratch it up…. delicious

He loves your hands. He loves to hold them, especially when he’s looking straight into your eyes as he drills the hell out of you- he’ll lift one up and kiss it bc ✨romance✨

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

Oh he’s going to fill you so full of cum that it pours out of your ears. He has a big breeding kink, and huge loads to match. But he’s also very healthy and takes good care of himself so his cum isn’t bad on your tongue on the off chance he hasn’t already cum inside you 600 times prior to finally doing so in your mouth. And he’s going to kiss you after- very sexc of him.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

Lost his virginity in a barn. Got a tick on his ass of all places. The barn isn’t the secret tho... the tick is.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

When you got together- he was definitely a virgin. Had only gone as far as MAYBE second base. But you used that to your advantage, because you’ve essentially built him up and trained him to be PERFECT for you. You also helped him find out what he likes and what makes him feel good too. Sure there was a lil’ corruption involved, but in the end you’re both very happy with your sex life.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Full on mf wrestling mating press. He’s going to have his cock so deep inside of you that if he even pushed a bit more his body is gonna go in too. Then he’ll just live there. He’s fine with that.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Unintentionally so. Every once in a while, you’ll both giggle or laugh because you have to reposition when you start to cramp up or you accidentally hit him in the face when tying to pull him closer or something. But he’s a firm believer in the whole “if you can’t laugh with the person you’re having sex with you shouldn’t have sex with them” addage, so he’s very grateful for those light moments.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

It could definitely be neater. He isn’t abysmal, but he is hairy and could stand to trim a tiiiny bit more often. He’s just very low maintenance down there. As long as it’s clean he's good, which is both true and a decent place to start but pls tell him to get a little off the top of you know what I mean.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈y

He’s! So! Loving! He’s always going to go the extra mile to make you feel special. He likes to keep things on the softer side I’d say 8/10 times. He prefers to make love instead of just fucking it out- but if you get into an argument or he’s frustrated, he will happily go hard… but still with candles and a massage. Also I said it already but he’s gonna hold your hands while he demolishes you- interlaced fingers and all that cute shit even tho you’re getting railed.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

His grandma is one of those old ladies that’s like “don’t do that you’ll go blind,” so poor baby was a lil pent up before he got older. Now, he still doesn't do it often, but he does it once a month or so as part of his routine. He uses coconut oil because he likes the smell and that it melts easily.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

Breeding, listen it’s just embedded in country boys to fuck and fill. He is no exception.

Spanking, moreso as a way to direct you. Moving too much? slap to stay still. Changing positions? Slap to get you moving. Just wants to see you jiggle? Yeah that too. Motivational slaps also come into play when he wants you to know you’re doing a good job.

Auralism, He LOVES to hear you. The sound of your breath, your moans, the way you chant his name when you’re close… he eats that shit up. It feeds his ego and boosts his pride. He also makes a lot of noise himself, mostly really deep moans but there’s a sprinkling of praise throughout too.

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

He needs privacy. So he’s definitely one to want to keep it at home or at least somewhere secluded and away, where he knows only you and him are there and will know about it.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

He doesn’t care how he does it, but his number one priority, is making sure that you cum. Kita is a giver. And he will make sure to give you whatever you want from him.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He’s not into SUPER rough stuff. He’s not vanilla, but he is the kind of guy that sees sex as “lovemaking” so he’s not gonna punch you in the face or throw you around like a ragdoll. It’s just not his style. Of course if it's what you want, he will… but never expect him to ever bring it up or do so on his own.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Ok so- he's… teachable. I’m not gonna lie, he would start off as absolute trash. But the good thing about him is how adaptable he is, and how willing he is to learn. You’d have to have him work at it a lot but once he gets good he’s great. He’ll love the feeling of accomplishment he gets from you getting off with only his mouth- it does wonders for his pride.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

It’s very even- until he starts to get close. When he’s close he’s going to speed up so much that you have to brace yourself against anything that’ll hold you. He is definitely a headboard grabber too.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

He likes to take his time with you. For that reason, he isn’t a huge fan. You would really have to convince him that it's worth it. He doesn’t see the point in instant gratification, and thinks you should be patient. Good things come to those who wait and all that Kita stop being so stoic and rail me at the farmers market challenge

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

Lmfao you think this mans is really gonna go for a public or semi-public scene? Think again. Now, he’s into sex outdoors sure, but only in your fenced in, enclosed backyard. He’s not letting anyone see you point blank periodt, you’re for his eyes only.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Excellent self control. He can hold off on cumming for as long as you need him to. Usually he’ll tap out himself after you’ve gotten through at least 3 of your own highs- but his record is 6. Has a super long refractory period tho- so he does things this way to make sure you get everything you need in one go.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

He actually likes using toys on you. He has a bunch of different plugs and vibes that he uses to suit the situation. He prefers to use a hitachi wand on you while he’s fucking you, but all the others he uses for foreplay- or after to keep you full to the brim of his cum.

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

You both tease each other absentmindedly. He doesn’t know why he gets so turned on by you scrubbing the floor on all fours (that’s why), but he does. He also doesn’t understand why you think its hot when he cuts firewood in winter or wipes his forehead with his shirt during the summer. He thinks he’s gross and sweaty- but you can only think of a million other ways to make him sweatier.

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

Listen we stan. He’s not quiet in bed by any means, but he’s not overly loud either. He’s the type who takes deep breaths and then on the exhale let’s out a moan from deep in his chest- you know the one. And he does that shit on purpose. Not really, but he does think of it as his way of letting you know that he feels as good as you feel. Will also 100% hit you with the “is that it baby? Is that the spot?” While you’re practically turning into jello underneath him bc he absolutely knows that’s the spot he just likes to make you say it.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

Wants to recreate the sex scene from tthe notebook with you. He can’t explain why, he just has an unexplainable urge to suck your face off in the rain and then proceed to raw you after peeling all the damp clothes from your body. Please oblige him.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

He’s got the thickness. Not coke Can thickness but like… you remember the Alaskan bull worm from ep of SpongeBob? Well he’s the whole worm, not just the tongue. I’m going to hell for that reference but ya he has a nice dick. The perfect thickness and and I’ll say a pretty good 5.5-6 inches worth. It’s also very veiny on the underside which- yes I love that.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

Normal sex drive, since you tend to do it at least 2 times a week. He only seems to get a little needier when you CAN’T have sex regularly- ie, one of you is sick or you’re away from each other. When that happens, he’s a little edgier than usual, can snap sometimes but not often.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

He’s the type to get a second wind after. He’ll only go to sleep after he makes sure all your aftercare needs are met, and even then, he’s only going to power-nap it for maybe 10mins. He’ll stay still and cuddle you while you sleep, but he’ll most likely watch tv or scroll through his phone while you enjoy his warmth. Every once in awhile he’ll give you a kiss while you stir.

Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @honey-makki @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @atsumusc0ck @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith @tsumue @disasteren @hoe4abbacchio @sillykittt @ukaisbaby

[hey-hamlet]

*slides in on socks* hey can we hear more abt that bnha cult au, the one where bc mido is quirkless and the cult town thinks hes better for it

So I’m probably going to be too lazy to actually write that as a full fic, so lemme go find my brainstorming and yeet it here for you all! Under a read more bc this is long and messy.

The whole fic takes place over either 1 or 1.5 months

Quirks = route of evil, those without powers are closest to the divine's intentions and anything subverting them from that should be expunged. Closer to normal you look = purer you are. Izuku is considered near gold standard excluding his green hair

2000 people in the town - 82 are quirkless (marked with a band - where? Wrist, neck or?)

Global quirkless pop = 20% but japan is 5%, much much lower in Izuku's generation, movement has been around since the dawn of quirks - infanticide

100 people statistically would make sense but rate of quirkless births vs quirkless people is very different as many die due to poor patient care

Some members of the town are the grieving parents of people who's quirkless children were killed as doctors didn't listen to them - some of the first people izuku meet

"Hizashi's family" Invite izuku over - they aren't related, it's part of a plot where they look at quirk records to invite the quirkless to join. Those who do not are disposed of in the woods.

The quirkless are treated like royalty, free food + other stuff

Anyone not on board is killed - settlement is new but buildings are old - the prior town was chased out/killed to make room for the cult. They used to meet in normal churches but quirkless supporting cults were cracked down on so they relocated into the woods by taking over a town

Start the fic w izuku getting off the train, Town is called Rishi, based the town off Nanmoku

Mum: Miyatani Haiyu Dad: Miyatani Juzou Daughter: Miyatani Kei

Need a very secretive, insular vibe - the place has no wifi, a church radio station and a townhall

Timeline

Arival Bakugo and Izuku take the train, Bakugo is there bc his mother told him to go: Inko was worried about sending Izuku off alone so she offered up bakugo to play guard dog. Bakugo is pissed. 

Bakugo will have a blow up about being there pretty early, izuku will try and soothe him which will only make him angrier. Is shinsou there? 

Shinsou is coming as well, but later > originally going to meet up w izuku for the first time (shitty foster parents) but wants to shield him from bakugo. Izuku just wants to sleep.

Golden band for the quirkless (ribbon?) “in our town we value good fashioned hard work so we like to give back to the quirkless, this little band lets everyone know the folks we should give a little more to”

Look around town, Izuku alone (shinsou there tomorrow >> all three staying at an inn)

Meet the family, bakugo pissed right off and they talk some smack about him while izuku flounders. “bet he’s got some flashy quirk, huh? Seems like the type. Makes me sick, thinkin they're better just cause they’re -”

Bakugo goes straight to his room to be a piss baby, izuku looks around. They are setting up for a festival. A group of kids teases another with a visible mutation, she cries, izuku tells the kids off and they scatter, she says some concerning stuff izuku is concerned. 

Izuku eats dinner w the family, they talk about how they think he’s gonna like it there, the little kid is cute.

Shinsou rolls into town, they go for a hike, its pretty chill - they have a picnic n shit they have dinner w the family 

Back to room (share one), izuku fiddling w the radio to find mic’s show, find the town’s own radio, they listen: something about  someone being brought into the fold, visitors in town to be treated kindly, a reminder of a church service that week “Hold fast to your faith, the world may slip a little further each day but we shall fight together to bring our faith outwards and bring purity back to the world” 

“Wow that was weird” “Wanna do some research?” “Fuck, sure.” 

They run into bakugo at breakfast, izuku mentions the show and bakugo kinda nods, “you heard it too?” “yeah. Fuckin weird” “We were gonna do some digging -” “Fuck off, I don’t need you two messing with my shit, I’ll look into myself.” “That was almost polite for Bakugo, huh?” 

Maybe timeskip to end of week? 

With the family, doing arts craft with the daughter. Shinso is sleeping off a migraine. They mention church vaguely in the background and Izuku tries to look like he's not listening in.

The daughter brings it up to izuku and the family chuckle and say he’s free to come if he wants but there is no need to rush him.

They eat lunch, the family kinda advertise the town to him, talk about the nice quirkless girl down the street his age, how rare it is for quirkless people to be born in this generation. Izuku vaguely thinks about how nice it would be to live there

Church that night, izuku looks in on shinsou to see he's still sleeping in the dark, goes to bakugo “look i know i’m sorry but they’re having church tonight and i know you were a little interested and i was gonna go anyway -” “I’m coming with because otherwise you’ll be useless.” They decide to sneak around to listen “I was kinda -” “yeah, sure” “wait but -” “oh fuck off, it rubbed me the wrong way too. The weirdos might talk different if they know we’re there.”

Bakugo throws a darker jacket at Izuku, he slips on a beanie and they head out into the woods, walking through to reach the back of the church. They wait 20 minutes after it was supposed to start and creep out, they listen in. 

“We will purge the impure our streets, we will stop this blight and, we will enact god's wrath and spare the pure, letting relieve the purity of the past. We will strike them down in his name, let them know we are his wolves let loose upon the blinded sheep.” 

Bakugo grabs izuku’s arm, they are both pale. They go to run, and a metal sheet falls down. The preacher goes quiet and someone a few people stand and the two of them book it as fast as they can.

They get back to the inn and have a minor freak out, they wake up shinso and they are like “oh shit, oh fuck.” they decide they need proof bc the pros will never listen to them, they become baby detectives 

Bakugo going off at izuku and having the shit scared out of him by a local, izuku steps in and the local backs down instantly, all smiles

One part of the story involves them running through the festival, changing clothes and masks as much as the can to escape the people chasing them.

The cult have a gas that is toxic to anyone with the quirk factor and intend to release it all across japan, starting with their own town. The climax of the story see’s Izuku going it alone through the facility, dead and dying bodies around him, looking out for any quirkless members that will stop him as he tries to find the locations of the canisters containing the gas. 

Aizawa and Nighteye are in the town as well, Bakugo and Shinsou run to them crying ab how Izuku is all alone and they think he’s going to die and oh god they can’t even help him - 

The dumb comedy throughline in this AU is Aizawa and Nighteye have to fake having crushes on each other to explain why they are hanging out so much in secluded areas. They both hate this very much. 

Izuku, who recognized the two heroes On Sight, is having a minor crisis about them both being here and apparently getting handsy behind a 7/11.

[honeygingergemini]

Now I'm thirsty for your writing! Can you write one where reader or steve wants to make a sex tape? Thank you😘😘

Hello my dear :) Thank you for being patient with me. I had writers block and just thought everything I was writing sucked so I kept deleting it and starting over. I hope you like it @donutloverxo

p.s. I was today years old when I found out tumblr doesn’t send you a notification when someone answers your ask (I’ve only ever asked on anon bc my main blog is something different so let me know if I am wrong lol) I tagged you just incase <3 IGNORE TYPOS :)

pairing: Steve rogers x fem!reader 

word count: 2.4k 

warnings: camera sex, dirty talk, oral male receiving mentions of face fucking (light), unprotected sex, cream pies and descriptions of it, light spanking, and praise kink for stevie :) 

On Camera

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. My heart is racing and we haven’t even done anything but set up the camera. We’ve only been dating for five months and four days, so imagine the graveling I had to do to get America’s golden boy to agree to fuck me on camera. I begged Steve for so long and now I'm the shy one. We’re supposed to be making a sex tape yet we are on opposite ends of the bed. 

Steve’s bare back is against the headboard while his long legs are spread out before him. He keeps looking everywhere but the camera. His eyes bounce from the walls to the sofa in the corner of the room but once he looks at me, he looks at the camera and he retreats further into his shell. His hand keeps running over his shorts and now I'm starting to feel bad. 

He agreed to this for me but I know he’s nervous. Maybe he doesn’t want to actually do this? Maybe I don’t want to do this? 

Nothing will happen if I get up and turn the camera off now, nothing will happen except me being deathly embarrassed. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I know I want this, I thought about it for a long time before and after bringing it up to Steve. It was my bright idea and now I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs like a dummy. 

You’ve had sex with Steve countless times, this is no different don’t let the camera scare you. Just relax, he’s your boyfriend, the one you’ve slept with numerous times. Just kiss him. 

I take a deep breath looking at Steve whose skin is slightly flushed. I lean over to his side of the bed and reach for him taking in his warmth. His skin is damp with a light coating of sweat. Steve’s eyes shoot over to mine with the unexpected contact. 

“Hi.” I smile at Steve hoping to relax him. As well as myself. 

“Hi.” He looks at me but then quickly looks at the camera. I follow suit doing the same.

We need a distraction from the boxed recording device. I lean over more to capture Steve’s lips in a demure kiss. I kiss him slowly trying to memorize every detail of his mouth. My tongue rolls over his teeth before dipping further into his mouth pulling a deep groan from him, but after his groan he tense and pulls away. 

“You okay?” I ask. 

“Yeah... i’m still not...” comfortable. he didn’t have to say it for me to know what he meant. I lift my body over his straddling him as I trace my fingers over his body knowing the simple act calms him. It works because this time Steve initiates the kiss. It’s more firm than the last but pleasing just the same. Our tongues waltz in a sinful manner pulling soft calls from me. Forced breaths exit my nostrils as I grind my hips slowly into his. His large hands grip my hips and he pulls me down harder. 

“Uh Steve.” I moan out. “More please.” He’s now attacking my neck leaving open mouth kisses across my jugular. His hips push up to meet mine once then twice then it’s a repeated action that leaves me breathless. 

His eyes snap open to meet mine but instead they meet the camera and his arms drop to his side. Deep sighs are released from the both of us 

“I’m sorry princess... I'm just trying to get used to this.” I know he’s turned on right now. I can feel how turned on he is. 

“Do you want to stop?” He looks at me but doesn’t answer. I peck his lips quickly before removing myself from his thighs. My fingers are at the rim of his shorts very close to pulling them down before Steve sits up to stop me. 

“What are you doing?” it comes out mumbled together almost as one complete word. 

“Let me help you relax.'' I push his chest back down softly and continue my plan. I pull his shorts down just enough to free his erection. It bounces back and hits Steve's stomach. I take him into my hands and slowly stroke him. I bend over Steve's thigh  arching my back while bringing my spit slick lips to his tip and leave a wet kiss. Steve shudders whispering profanity under his breath. My tongue joins the fun, slipping out to run around the tip in slow semi circles. I continue my teasing until Steve's hips jut forward and his hand is on the base of my neck. 

“Suck it right.” He grunts voice hoarse “Stop playing with me.” 

“Yes sir.” The last words I say before I take him fully into my mouth. I push down until my nose is met by the coarse curls of his base. One of my hands grip Steve’s thigh while the other is holding on to the side of his abdomen subconsciously giving the camera a perfect view. Steve's grip on my neck is unwavering; he's holding my head down. 

“Fuck... breathe through your nose doll.” He grunts with a rasp I’ve never heard from him before. I take in sloppy breaths trying to calm down. “You gonna let me fuck your face? hmm princess?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer; he begins pushing his hips up into me slowly speeding up with each thrust until he’s assaulting the back of my throat. The action pulls strangled noises from me. My sounds only serve as encouragement for Steve. I think he’s completely forgotten about the camera. 

Steve juts his hips in a way that knocks the wind out of me. I gag around him getting a deep groan in return. 

“F-fuck princess.” His hand finds your ass with conviction. Steve suddenly becomes fixated on your bottom. His burly hands run from your ass and down your thighs repeatedly. I wiggle my lower half as a silent plea for him to spank you again and he complies. 

“You like it when Captain spanks you?” Slap. “You like the pain?” Slap. “I asked you something, doll.” you were presented with two slaps this time. I nod ferociously around Steve’s cock. The super soldier rubs the area he’s abused before dipping his fingers into your core. 

“Shit princess.” he continues toying around with your pussy. He pulls your head from his dick not wanting to end his fun prematurely. His tongue meets yours in a grimy kiss. “I can’t wait to watch that back.” Steve mumbles around your lips as you simultaneously squeeze the finger within you. 

“Oh? You like that?” Steve adds his middle finger to his index and presses into your warm sex deeply. I cry out enjoying the sweet burn of Steve’s fingers. “You like the thought of me watching this while i’m away?” 

You absolutely loved the thought of Steve watching you pleasure him when he’s away. An image of Steve hunched over dick in hand pumping himself into oblivion leaves you dripping. 

“Take your dress off.” Steve demands his voice carrying power. I begin stripping myself for him when he quickly stops me. “Nuh uh, not for me, for the camera.”

I turn to the camera as a shiver runs down my spine. My slip dress easily falls off my body leaving me with only black lace panties as covering. Not that I want to be covered in this moment. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve’s thickset hands wrap around me from behind covering my breast giving them a pleasure filled squeeze. “Such a pretty sight.” Steve brings his body to mold into mine from behind. His left hand trails it’s way down back to my clothed opening. 

“Can i touch you?” I nod yes at Steve's ridiculous question. Why would you ever deny him? Your response must be good enough because he’s pressing down over the fabric just the way you like. It doesn’t take long for his self restraint to be overcome and he’s dipping his fingers under your panties. He dips into your liquid arousal and coats your sex with it.

“You’re dripping princess.” He shudders to himself. He says it every time you two are intimate but you never get tired of hearing it. “So wet.” 

“Always for you.” My words flow out breathlessly “Only for you.” You’re unsure of when steve removed his shorts but he’s aligning himself with your entrance. He’s bare. There’s no protective barrier between the two of you. He’s never done this before. You’ve never done this before. His tip is barely grazing your lips, Steve surprises you. 

“Are you okay with this?” He asks for your permission and of course you accept. How could you turn down your favorite super soldier? So now you’re face down into the mattress dripping at the idea of getting to feel your Steve in a new way. A more personal way. Steve pushes into you slowly, only his tip. An exasperated moan leaves you as your suspicion is confirmed. You feel every detail of Steve's mushroom tip. Your vice like grip cups him into your squelching center holding him there. You absentmindedly hear Steve express his approval of the pleasure your body is providing him. Steve pulls out his tip just as slow as he entered. A suctioning click echos in the room showing just how wet you are. 

“Fuck.” Steve whispers “You feel like a dream doll.” 

He hasn’t fully delved into your sweetness and he’s on cloud nine. Not wanting to waste anymore time Steve dips into your bottoming out quickly and stays there. Labored breaths from both of you fill the room. It feels like Steve sits there forever unwavering. He takes in every detail of your squishy walls as you commit every vein, dip, and curve of Steve’s dick to memory. 

“Stevie baby,” You can barely breathe but you need him to move. “Move… please… for me.” 

Steve takes in one deep breath before he’s pounding into with great intensity. He doesn’t work your way up to his speed. He just slams into you, repeatedly. Hips clashing into your ass causing a jiggle that Steve adores. His hands strike your bottom giving added stimulation you didn’t know you needed. Steve pulls your head off of the bed bringing your body to lay flush against his. He dips his hips just a little bit lower and his tip sweeps the sweet spot located deep in your center only he can reach. You choke out a cry, his name being the only thing on your mind. Your cries encourage him to duplicate the action. 

“It feel good, doll?” You nod so fast you feel the contents of your mind scramble. 

“Say it, tell the camera how much you like it.” Steve turns your head to the recording device in front of you. Something you forgot was even present in the room with you. “Tell the camera” With each word his body collides with yours making sure you feel him as well as his words deep. “ Tell ‘em how much you like Captain stretching this pussy out.” 

“Tell them.” Steve’s stern grunts are accompanied by passionate strikes to your outer thigh. 

“Captain…” You whine, The pleasure is starting to feel overwhelming. “You feel so good, so different.” You want to catch your breath but you always want to please Steve. Captain has a praise kink. 

“I can feel all of you.” You reach behind yourself to cup Steve's head. “It’s so deep.” You sigh when his fingers find your clit. The tingle of your orgasm begins at your toes and travels up your body. You’re so close. 

“You’re the only one that can make me feel this way.” Steve grunts in approval of your expression pressing harder into your clit. He likes control but only because you give it to him so when you praise him, he feels like he’s on fire. 

“I love when you touch me like that.” Another grunt from Steve. I teeter close to saying something important, something so permanent that once I say it, it can't be taken back. Steve’s chest puffs with need. A need for you to express the feeling you both have swirling within your chest growing with each passing day. A small smack is applied to your clit before Steve flips you over so you’re on your back. 

“Tell me what I want to hear.” His voice is as rough as his pace. You don’t respond. It’s only been a couple months. Way Too soon to say it. 

“Don’t wanna say it?” Steve is plowing into making sure no air is left in your lungs. “But I thought I was doing so good?” His thrusts are unabated. 

“Thought I was the only one that could make you feel this way? hmm? Thought only I could make you feel good?” Long drawn out moans escape you. One right after the other each one more melodic than the last. 

“Be my good little baby and say it.” His thumb flicks around your bundle of nerves with sharp short strokes. “Say it princess.” 

“I love you.” You think you say it. You hope you say it. You’re unsure, your words are completely slurred and your mind is only filled with white noise. Your body is levitating as your orgasm washes over you. You’re feeling everything all at once. Steve doesn’t stop. He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. 

“I know you do baby,” Steve chuckles, pleased with his work. “I love you so much more.” Each word is followed by a sweet kiss. Too sweet for what’s taking place. Your understanding of time becomes weary but soon enough Steve meets you at the peak. 

“F-Fuucck doll.” His body tenses as he releases deep inside you. “Fuck.” Once he collects himself he’s off of you. You whine at the loss of heat from the super soldier. You didn’t realize it but Steve has grabbed the camera bringing its focus to your filled cunt. 

“You look so pretty like this doll.” His finger dip into your overstimulated sex. He pushes the proof of his orgasm around before pulling some of it out to spread it across your lower lips. 

You lay still trying, trying to breathe, trying to not pass out, trying to not look as fucked out as you feel. You hear steve mention how this was fun in the background but you don’t have the strength to respond. Soft kisses to your inner thighs, stomach, then lips lull you further into your euphoric state. 

“You okay?” 

“Mmhmm i’m perfect.” You sling a leg over the super soldier.  “So you love me?” Steve’s soft chuckle is the last thing you grasp before falling into much needed slumber. 

[miracleonice87]

Begin Again

a Mathew Barzal song fic

a/n: a one shot based on “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. obviously I don’t own any of Taylor Swift’s music/lyrics! I’m not even a big Swiftie anymore (edited: lol dying bc I wrote that before she released folklore and evermore and sucked me RIGHT back in) but I love her “Red” album and always listen to it in the fall. also, the NYC traffic/parking/location situation in this is purely fantasy BS, lol.

summary: Mat Barzal meets Hayden Parker (fictional) in a coffee shop, and they start something new.

warnings: swearing. talk of a concussion/migraines/weight loss — otherwise, complete and total fluff.

______

With a deep breath, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror hanging near your front door before you left your Brooklyn apartment. You hadn’t worn these heels for several seasons now — he hadn’t liked it when you wore high heels. You had let his opinions — on your clothes, shoes, music, books, movies, and friends — dictate how you lived for too long. You smirked now, admiring how the pointed-toe snakeskin stilettos looked paired with your raw cut black jeans and silky pink blouse. He would’ve hated this look (“too gaudy,” he would have said), which made you love it that much more.

You popped in one AirPod and flipped the inside lock on your door before pulling it closed. You made your way down the hall as the lyrics started to flow.

There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range

His horse and his cattle are his only companions...

You fought the urge to roll your eyes thinking about your former flame’s constant unwarranted comments about this classic ballad which often wafted through your apartment from the record player in the living room.

“I don’t get this song — like, is he singing to himself?” he would ask. You never bothered to tell him the real background and meaning — you loved the song, and you got it. You always had.

Emerging from the main entrance of your building, you hummed along to melodies from your favorite playlist, and walked the three or so blocks to your destination. Soon, you were stepping in from the bustle of the street to find solace in an only-slightly less busy coffee shop, one you had come to frequent because of its location — sandwiched within the six blocks between your apartment and the fashion magazine where you were interning this semester.

“Hi, one large double shot mocha, please?” you requested, stepping up after the man in front of you paid for his order. You tapped your AirPod to pause your music, just in time to hear: “Nice shoes.”

You lifted your head and glanced toward the pick-up section of the counter, where a classically handsome man in his twenties stood donning a well-tailored navy blue suit. Your heart lurched in your chest as you realized he was looking straight at you.

“Me?” you inquired softly, just to be sure, as you slipped your bank card back into your wallet. He nodded, smiling. “Yes, you. Nice shoes.”

You bit your lip involuntarily, slowly walking his way to wait on your coffee. “Thanks. You’ve got nice style yourself,” you complimented, and you were surprised by your own boldness in that moment. Something about his confidence made you confident, too. And something about his model good looks seemed unsettlingly familiar somehow.

He extended his hand as you took your position next to him. “I’m Mat,” he greeted. You couldn’t help but smile, nearly breathless from his innate charm.

“Hi, Mat,” you replied, engaging his handshake. “I’m Hayden.”

“Hayden. Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Mat mused, holding onto your hand for just a moment longer than was customary. You knew it was silly — God, was it silly — but you felt yourself blush at his flattery.

“Large Americano,” a barista called out. Mat stepped forward, thanking her and stuffing a bill — you couldn’t help but notice that it was a large one — into the tip jar atop the glass pastry display. He turned back to you as he unfastened the lid and blew gently on his coffee. Another thing you couldn’t help but notice — his perfect pink lips.

“So, Hayden, are you a native New Yorker?”

Hmm, you thought. Why isn’t he running for the door after getting his drink? You decided to play along, feeling more daring than you had in ages.

“I am not,” you confessed. “I’m from Maine, actually.”

“Ah, still an East Coast girl,” Mat remarked with a grin. “I’m from the West — near Vancouver.”

You arched your brows. “Wow, Canadian, huh?” Mat chuckled.

“Born and raised. You know what they say, though: opposites attract,” he commented, hazel eyes piercing into you even as he took a cautious sip from his cup. You studied his face — he seemed more familiar with each word he spoke.

“They do say that, don’t they?” you retorted, skirting his inference. Just then, the barista set your mocha on the counter.

“Thank you so much,” you said, also pushing a tip into the jar, thankful that Mat’s attention was on grabbing a cup sleeve from the island nearby instead of on the much smaller bills you had to offer the staff.

You turned toward the island, too, reaching for the cinnamon. Mat offered you a sleeve as if it was second nature, and you graciously accepted, trying to relax the muscles on your face that seemed to have permanently turned upward into a smile since you’d been in the man’s presence.

Suddenly, you gasped.

“Islanders,” you whispered under your breath as Mat watched you stir your cinnamon into your drink. He froze.

“What?” he asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if he had heard you correctly. Your eyes darted around, making sure no one within earshot was paying attention.

“You play for the Islanders. Right?” you asked softly. He nodded, silent, ducking his head a bit; you began to backpedal.

“Oh, God... I didn’t mean - I, uh... I promise I’m not like a hockey fangirl, or anything,” you choked out, cheeks flushed. Your hands started to shake slightly as you replaced the lid on your to-go cup. “I just, uh, my brother. My brother played hockey. He always talked about you, and, uh, I just realized that that’s why I recognized you.” You winced.

“This... this isn’t as weird as it sounds, I swear,” you insisted. “It’s just that, my brother played in the Q. He was good, and, uh, I knew about all the other good hockey players, because of him.”

Mat’s demeanor had quickly changed — from slightly uncomfortable to giddy. He was smirking at you while you sputtered, taking a sort of masochistic pleasure in watching you squirm. His grin was infectious.

“What’s your last name?” he asked when you finally stopped talking. “Parker,” you responded, the two of you stepping away from the island and taking up residence near the front windows of the cafe.

“Parker... Parker,” he repeated. You were distracted by how good your name sounded falling from his tongue. Then, he gasped, too.

“Oh shit, your brother’s Nick Parker? Damn, how’s he doing?”

Your brow quirked as you watched the light flicker on in his eyes when he pieced it together. A National Hockey League star recognized your brother’s name, your name. What the hell was happening?

You cleared your throat, attempting to come back into orbit. “Uh, yeah, he’s good now. He, uh... it was a battle there for a couple years. He had migraines every day for about 16 months... lost a lot of weight. It was... it was tough,” you told him, your voice lowering noticeably. Mat watched you carefully, concern written all over his striking features. It was evident that Mat knew your brother’s story.

Your older brother Nick had been a top 20 prospect in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League as a teen, playing forward for the Halifax Mooseheads. But after a nasty late hit during a playoff game, he had been left with a debilitating concussion and, after a long period of unsuccessful rehab, had been forced to walk away from the game just as he was entering his prime.

Those troubling days hung like a thick, black fog over your family’s history, and you suddenly recalled being 15 again, cross-legged outside Nick’s bedroom door for hours, begging him to let you into the dark room to hold onto him as he cried, both because of the pain and because of the weight of his unrealized dreams. It had taken countless neurologist appointments, physical therapy, and your parents’ unwavering insistence that he regularly see a sports psychologist for him to return to some semblance of normalcy after a long road to recovery.

Now, minus the occasional treatable migraine, Nick was thriving. You beamed at the thought, your well-polished black nail picking at the corner of the cup sleeve on your mocha as you looked back to Mat and continued.

“But he’s finishing law school now, seeing a therapist and keeps himself in great shape, which helps. He’s getting married next summer to this great girl,” you finished, pride swelling in your chest at how far your brother had come. Mat’s eyebrows lifted, his worried expression morphing into elation.

“No shit!” he exclaimed. “Damn, I’m so happy for him. Tell you what, lotta guys wanted nothing to do with him when he was tearing it up. And we were all gutted for him after it happened.” You gave him a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’ll have to let him know you said that.” Mat nodded, then pressed on. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him myself one day,” he added brazenly, casually taking another sip.

No response came to your brain, so you curled your fingers around your own cup and took a long draw, eyes darting to the activity outside the window, Mat’s never leaving your unsure face.

The church bells chiming from a nearby steeple were the only thing that could pull Mat’s gaze from you, as he checked his large-face Rolex. He seemed angered by the time staring back at him, and he ran his hand aggressively through his hair as his eyes rolled just slightly.

“Listen, Hayden, I hate to do this,” Mat began with a sigh. “But we’ve got a game in Pittsburgh tomorrow night, and the team plane leaves in like half an hour.”

You’re surprised by how deflated you feel in that instant, casting a downward glance at the shoes Mat had complimented only minutes ago, before you’d started feeling like maybe you’d known him your whole life.

A quiet, “Oh,” was all you could muster, still not meeting his eyes.

His hand then came to rest on your upper arm, and it’s only then that you noticed how big it was, long fingers curling easily around your bicep.

“But hey... I’ll be back late tomorrow night. Whaddya say we grab coffee here the next morning? Wednesday. Maybe 8?”

You turned your eyes upward to take in his face. He looked hopeful. He was hopeful that he’d see you again.

You nodded. “I’d love to, Mat. I’ll meet you here.”

Mat beamed, a relieved breath falling from his lips. “Good,” he commented. “I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, leaving you reeling when he pulled away.

“Bye, pretty Hayden,” Mat said with a wink before turning and exiting the coffee shop, walking down the block to the Cadillac he’d just unlocked. He was still in sight when he glanced over his shoulder and threw you another breathtaking grin. You smiled back, frozen in place as you watched him drive away.

_____

Mat was going to be late.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself at some point within the last 48 hours.

He was either going to be late or he was going to stand you up altogether. So even though you woke up at 5:30 and initially felt the need to rush through your routine to get down to the coffee shop as quickly as possible, you didn’t. You forced yourself to slow down. Because Mat was going to be late. Or, he wasn’t going to be there at all.

So you were surprised when, after throwing on a red chiffon dress with tiny white flowers and a cognac leather jacket, you walked through the coffee shop door at 8:02 and heard, “Hayden!”

Your head snapped up.

At a corner table in the back of the shop was Mat, dressed in a smart grey sweater and distressed black jeans, a silver chain looped around his neck, standing to wave you over with a broad smile across his face.

He came. And he’d arrived before you did.

You walked over to Mat and he embraced you warmly, the two of you exchanging kisses on the cheek. He squeezed your elbow affectionately as you stepped back from him.

“Oh, here. Let me,” Mat said as he pulled your chair out and motioned for you to sit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, his chivalry catching you by surprise. Once you were seated, he pushed your chair in slightly before taking his place across the table from you.

“I got you a mocha,” he told you, nodding at the cup in front of you. “Double shot, right?”

You nodded. “You’re sweet. Thank you,” you said, the two of you beaming at each other for a moment, lost in a daze.

“So how was the game?” you inquired, pulling you both back to earth. Mat cleared his throat before answering you.

“It was good! We won. It’s usually a tough battle with them but we kinda dominated, which was nice for a change,” he spoke, looking pleased.

“You score?” you asked teasingly as you sipped from your cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he told you with a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Two goals and an assist.”

Your eyebrows lifted on your forehead. “Mat, that’s amazing! So my brother was right. You are good.”

Mat shook his head, trying to shrug you off.

“Ah, nah. I kinda think it had more to do with a good luck charm I met this week,” he remarked slyly. You licked your bottom lip before biting on it gently. Mat took notice, mirroring your motions as he stared at your lips.

“So, how’s work been this week?” It was Mat’s turn to deflect.

You told him how hectic it had been, with you arriving at the office around 9 and leaving at 6 on the day you’d first met, then departing after 7 yesterday, despite it being only a part-time internship in addition to the five classes you were taking online. He asked about your combination of on-campus and online learning throughout your college career in order to accommodate your dream internships, and he was already in awe of what a hard worker you were.

You pointed out that you weren’t the only one at the table with a crazy schedule, and you asked him how he balanced hockey with his personal life. He answered you easily, launching into stories about his teammates and his family and his friends who all kept him grounded in different ways. There was one name he kept bringing up — Tito. He told you that you’d have to meet him. Before you could hesitate, you said you’d like to. His visage brightened at that answer. He reminded you of sunshine.

He continued to regale you with a vast array of stories, stopping often to ask you questions and invite you to tell him stories of your own. It took a bit of time, but soon you were opening up about your own life — your parents’ recent and shocking divorce after 30 years of marriage, and your struggle with your grandmother’s death last fall.

It wasn’t all dark, though. In fact, most of it wasn’t. You also told him about the crazy theater actor roommate you’d had when you first moved into the city to study fashion at NYU, and how her frightening antics had eventually pushed you into accepting your uncle’s offer to pay for your own apartment in the city, as he was single and childless and had always delighted in spoiling you and your brother. You told him about your only two cousins on your dad’s side, two siblings bracketing you and your brother in age, and how the four of you were more like siblings than cousins. You told a slightly off-color joke at your own expense that most of your friends and coworkers would never laugh at, but it left Mat breathless, throwing his head back with boyish giggles flowing from his mouth like your favorite song. This caught you off-guard — you couldn’t believe he actually seemed to think you were funny. The last one certainly never did.

At some point, the conversation shifted to music. Mat’s jaw dropped when you told him that you own every James Taylor album on vinyl, after he told you that that’s one of his favorite artists of all time. He said he’s never met anyone who has as many James Taylor records as you. You simply shrugged. You explained that you and your mom have seen every tour James Taylor has been on since you were eleven and had started playing guitar. Mat’s eyes went wide — he told you that he dabbles in guitar, too.

After this, you quieted a bit. He noticed. It comes off to him as shyness, but you know what it really is. It’s fear. All at once you realize just how far you’ve let your guard down with this stranger. You’ve only just met this person, yet you have more in common with him than anyone you’ve encountered since moving into the city.

He sensed that something was off, so, in the silence, he reached a hand across the table and took yours in his grasp, stroking the back of it with his thumb. You looked into his mesmerizing eyes, and your hesitance melted.

After several more minutes of easy conversation, you check the time. You need to be at work in ten minutes.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this up this time,” you started, and Mat sat back, looking understanding though disappointed. “But I’ve gotta get to work. Thankfully, it’s just right down the street.”

“Let me walk you,” Mat quickly insisted. You smirked at him, digging in your purse to find your office key.

“Didn’t you drive here?” you asked, chuckling. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, but if pretty Hayden works just down the street, I might as well walk her to the office and spend a few extra minutes with her,” he told you with a smug grin. You felt your cheeks get hot.

“Sounds good to me,” you admitted quietly. Mat nodded, then rose from his chair, reaching for his wallet to leave another tip.

“Thank you,” you said, putting your hand on his forearm tenderly. “For the coffee. For this.”

He smiled down at you. “You’re welcome,” he replied.

The two of you walked out the cafe door, which Mat pushed open even from behind you. You pointed in the direction of your office building and the two of you fell into step, side by side. Your heart leapt when Mat reaches for your hand. It felt unbelievably natural — which terrified you.

Your recent relationship history flashed through your brain all at once, like a film reel. Your brain screamed, “Slow down!” while your heart whispered, “Relax.” You weren’t sure which to believe. You opened your mouth to bring him up, to give a fair warning, to tell Mat that you might not be ready for... whatever this was.

Then, he started to talk about the movies that his family watches every single Christmas. You weren’t at all sure what had brought that subject to his mind — maybe your earlier questions about his younger sister back in Coquitlam — but you’re grateful for the diversion from your own messy mind. You decided to engage him on that topic instead, rather than bring up your last boyfriend who’d shattered you then walked away.

And for the first time in eight months, you decided to leave what’s past, in the past.

Like a pinball machine, Mat had already bounced to yet another new topic — his practice later this morning. As he finished a story about pranking Tito in the locker room after a skate last week, you bubbled over with giggles. He watched you with admiration and wonder coursing through his entire being. You eventually observed how he was gazing at you, and you sensed that he had something more important to say than his joke on his teammate.

“Hey, so, uh,” Mat started, clearing his throat. Your suspicion had been correct. “What are you doing tomorrow night, after work? We have a home game tomorrow at 7:30 and I, uh, I wanted to see if maybe... you wanted to go? I requested a ticket for you... just in case you want it. If you do... I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner after?”

The sentences Mat spoke seemed to be rolled into one giant question mark. His unwavering self-assurance had seemed to falter slightly for the first time since you’d met him, surprising you. You only needed a moment to consider your answer.

“I’d love to come watch you play,” you told him, wrapping your hands around his upper arm affectionately. You watched him exhale, a smile slowly overtaking his face.

“Thank God,” Mat breathed, making you both burst into hysterics as he leaned his head down to touch yours for a moment.

Bewilderment overcame you as you realized that you hadn’t felt this way about anyone in... you couldn’t even remember how long. You’d thought it might never happen again. That for you, this feeling might just be... gone.

You couldn’t believe that on a Wednesday, in a cafe, you’d watched it begin again.

[inkofamethyst]

December 29, 2021

We have reached that time of year where I must start preparing to apply for summer research internships.  (actually, I should’ve started this process weeks ago but alas)  If I’m lucky, I’ll be invited back to work with the PIs at the museum.  If I’m less lucky, they won’t have a spot for me, and I’ll need to get them to write me letters of recommendation for other programs that are, unfortunately, not nearly as focused on my interests because biological anthropology internships are few and far in between.  It’s like, I could settle for an archaeology internship or perhaps a biomedical one focused on genomics or something, but hominin/human evolutionary biology stuff is not easy to find.  Applications due in about a month for the programs I’m looking at.  And I’ve still gotta make a definitive list of grad schools.  Maybe that’ll come after the conference when I get to make connections.  I actually talked to my puzzle-friend about grad schools today.

Also as far as my The Opened Way arrangement goes, I think the problem is that I don’t completely understand how many moving parts there should be at one time.  I can generally come up with parts that fit within what I think the chord structure is (you must, however, consider the fact that I, with almost no knowledge of music theory, barely understand what a chord structure is), but when I put all the cool moving parts together, the things I hear in the recording and have transcribed plus the things I come up with, a lot of times it just sounds like noise.  And I don’t know why that is.  Which part makes it sound bad?  And see, I know the parts can work bc when I isolate parts I’ve made and play them alongside the main melody and baseline, everything sounds decent.  But all of my made up parts together?  A mess.  It’s weird.  I think the problem is having too many parts.  But how many countermelodies is too many?  What even is a countermelody, really?  If I have one cool syncopated (do I even truly know what that word means??) bassline, could I have other instruments just play long notes in the same pitch or nah??

And I know, I know, I just need to “read” more scores.  Maybe I should look into some old concert band pieces I’ve played.  The familiarity might help.  Just, probably not marching band/pops stuff bc pop music is incredibly simple from a notation standpoint.

I don’t plan to submit this arrangement for the spring semester’s repertoire, but maybe for next fall (...there will also likely be less competition then bc of all the graduating seniors).  Maybe I won’t submit it at all.  Dunno.

Speaking of projects, I’ve started working on the late Victorian walking skirt!!  It is going to be very heavy, I can already tell.  I decided to flatline the flannel panels with quilting cotton, as they would have done back ‘round the turn of the century to get a more structured look, but I’m afraid that my very cute but not particularly large rump may not be able to hold it all up.  I went for a pattern that is composed entirely of trapezoids because the best part of historybounding is that you can choose which parts of the garment you want to focus on for historical technique, and this go round I truly did not want to deal with a real pattern.  Someone posted drafting suggestions in the facebook group and I’m using those as a rough guideline, but really, this project is a bit of a hodgepodge of things I’ve learned from watching many many many many many walking skirt construction videos.

Anyway, I’m trying a new technique today where I’ve stopped working on the skirt at a point where it would’ve been really easy to continue.  My thinking is that instead of running myself ragged trying to basically complete it all in a night (which, like, I don’t think I could do, but I could get pretty darn close), I can pick up easily tomorrow without being entirely exhausted by the project.

Today I’m thankful for uh for the walk I took this evening with my cello-friend and puzzle-friend.  It wasn’t a sunset walk, as it was quite cloudy, but they were very kind to indulge me in calling it a sunset walk nonetheless.

I really need to clean my room.

[softboyscully]

Public School Stuff I Wanted to Share

public school is both beautiful and horrifying am i right

so ill just go by the grades i guess

Kindergarten, first year

i did kindergartden at a catholic school in a relativly big city so this one’s got some shit

we went to church every wednesday, me and best friend (lost track of her when we moved, wish we’d stayed in touch, she was awesome) would giggle the whole time, pretty sure we made fun of jesus once, can’t remember why, possibly the hair

i had the nicest teacher, she was (as i remember her) young, blonde, and super sweet, that was the first and last year i ever had naptime

SPEAKING of naptime

i never slept during it

once i found what i remember being a nut of some sort on the ground, probably came off someone’s shoe

i grab it, turn to sarah (my best friend), say something about putting it up my nose

sarah, apparently having common sense, says, “no dont do it!! we’re supposed to be sleeping!!”

i put it up my fucking nose

try to get it out, just push it farther in

im crying a little bit now, that shit hurts

go up to my teacher

“you’re supposed to be asleep!”

“i have a nut up my nose and it wont come out”

teacher tries to get it out, but it wont budge

just. sends me back to my mat

that was it

the art room was tiny

like re-purposed broom closet tiny

there was a copy of the mona lisa in the hallway, someone had drawn ray bans on it with a pencil, never got replaced

there was a creepy-ass basement i went down to after school, we ate cheeseballs and sandwiches with some kind of meat, mayo, and that kinda yellow bread

someone broke his leg down there once, think an older kid threw him at the ceiling or something

we learned how to play Silver Bells with actual bells in music class

Kindergarten, second year

i remember these two teachers as the evil step sister-type look, but it might be my little kid imagination

but seriously they were horrible

we learned stuff in a room that was more middle-school styled, except everything was green or black and it was v dark

me and sarah attained a new friend, john

honestly i think we would’ve stayed friends for a while if i didnt move away

i have two vivid memories

one is of me really wanting to go home, so i walked by the teacher’s desk and did a fake sneeze

they laughed at me and told me to go sit back down

the other is  john leaning his chair back and then falling, so me and sarah went to help him back up

it was funny, so he did it again

and again

me and sarah were laughing, had the time of our lives

after the maybe fifth time the teachers said “john can get back up by himself. sit down and stay there.”

one of the reasons we moved was bc i got sent a letter from my fourth grade buddie

most of the words weren’t spelled correctly, many letters were backwards

my mother was horrified

ofc now we know it was probably a learning disability 

1st grade

this is when i moved

beginning of school i was ASTOUNDED we didnt have uniforms, one of the best things ever to happen to me

nothing wrong with this teacher, she was cool

thing is i was a little shit

told everyone my dogs died (they did but i was maybe three when it happened, i remember it not)

all my personal narratives were bullshit (only one sticks in my memory, wrote it about celebrating christmas AND hanukkah with my dad’s friends who were jewish, i have never even met those friends)

had a crush on this kid, best friend (she was terrible and helped wreck me emotionally) told me to kiss him in music class. me being a stupid ass bitch, i did it, aND HE GOES TO THE TEACHER AND CALLS ME OUT. at the end of class she gets both of us to stay for a bit, AND I DENYIED EVERYTHING. i walked across the fucking classroom, kissed him on the cheek, ran away giggling, told my teacher i didn’t do anything, AND GOT AWAY WITH IT. i’ve embarrassed myself further with this child but thats another story

2nd grade

i loved this teacher but honestly he was absolute shit

like. all he did was play the guitar and sing with us

never actually taught us stuff???

middle of the year, my mom goes in for a parent-teacher conference, he tells her i dont pay attention is math.

“what do you mean?”

“she doesn’t listen, she just takes out a book and starts reading.”

“........have you.... tried taking the book away?”

“sure, i could try that.”

“o....kay”

he also told her i’d be a girl who’d grow up to love spellcheck (which i do lmao)

like ???? why not just??? teach me to spell????

there was this one dude who one day showed up, gave me a pink stuffed cat, and then asked me where i lived

funniest thing was he lived on the same street as me

something that is vivid in my memory is showing up to class one day and realizing that i was wearing my regular clothes over my pajamas

also we had fish

every day someone else was in charge of feeding them

one of the times it was my job, i grab the fish food and walk over to the tank only to find all of the fish floating on the top

i screamed “THE FISH CAN FLY?!?!?!?!?!”

everyone ran over, all of us scarred for life when Mr. G walks over and goes in the most normal voice ever “no theyre dead”

we held a funeral

the cause of death is still undetermined

3rd grade

this year just draws a blank for me

all i know is that whoever the teacher was, they neglected to teach me how to tell time from a clock

also we learned the Cotten Eyed Joe dance in gym around here

4th grade

i had two teachers this year

one was the same one from 1st grade, the other one was a total bitch

made a girl named hannah ball her eyes out once, never apologized

i was (and am) and avid reader, so my reading skills were high above average

instead of being proud of me she told me i was weird, not normal, and too smart for a 4th grader, so i MUST be cheating. 

she was the start of a lot of self confidence issues for me ngl

this was around the time i went and got tested for ADHD (me and my grandmother almost broke down on the highway but thats another story), Mrs. M (the nice one) was super supportive when i told her why i was leaving early but Ms. S (bitch) told me ADHD wasn’t real and i just wanted to be special for once

she sucked, Ms. S

5th grade

this is getting super long so this’ll be the last one i do

but my teacher..... Mr. F was A+++++

he legitimately taught me math

we had i guess like,,, a buddie class we switched with sometimes

the teacher of that class was Mrs. R, who had crazy red hair and many freckles

at one point she referenced a meme and my entire class started screaming

also there was another Mrs. S (to differentiate this one will be called Mrs. Su)

she was kind of crazy

she was the astronomy teacher and she told us many times that the moon landing was faked

once she handed out sunscreen and had everyone put it on their whole body (this was in december, fyi)

Mr. F also hosted an ‘archeological dig’ which sounds cool but in reality he had a bunch of arcade prizes from his childhood buried in little flower pots we dug into with plastic spoons

also heres some stuff i cants pinpoint the time of/happened in multiple grades:

someone held a who-can-scream-the-most-like-a-goat contest

a guy named Makenzie won

remember we planned it while the teacher left the classroom so the teacher walks back in and one by one everyone in the room starts screaming, there was some applause, a few kids got a standing ovation

we cleaned out our desks in the middle of the year, i found 3 socks and a dog treat in mine

like how the fuck did any of those things get there

and where’s the fourth sock

b o t t l e f l i p p i n g

but no seriously there were at least five water bottles stuck in the ceiling in the cafeteria

my sorta friend charlie was obsessed with paper airplanes

one time he might’ve broken the world record for longest time in the air but he was counting in his head and it was at recess so there was no video

four square and gaga ball would be played no matter the setting, time, or conditions and it was super competitive

like if you could get to king in four square you got the everlasting respect of everyone

and everyone was super educated on four square special rules, special plays, that kinda shit

no but guys i grew up with bus stop, candy store, haunted house on mondays, haunted mansion on fridays, zombies was fair game unless it was Zach, Ryan, Chrissy or Vee

me and one other guy named andrew were the only known pjo fans, had the time of our LIVES making refrences

“HEY ANDREW IM NOBODY”

“I HAVE WAITED YEARS FOR YOU, NOBODY, COME HERE AND FACE YOUR DEATH”

“hey annabeth, i thought you looked like a princess when i first saw you. i printed out a picture you sent me casually and kept it with me. i snuck along on a quest so i could save you, endangering myself immensely. i held the sky for you. when you talk about your crush on luke, i get jealous. beckendorf understood, but hes dead.”

“ikr we’re literally the best of friends”

“RIGHT”  

also the first time we finished mark of athena we were in the same classroom and we individually dropped the book, stood up, looked at each other, and screamed “WELL FUCK YOU TOO RICK RIORDAN”

[generallynerdy]

Maybe it does all add up to a single hush (Kanan Jarrus/Cal Kestis)

Summary: 15 years after the Fall, 10 years after the death of Caleb Dume, Kanan Jarrus and Cal Kestis find each other again.

Warnings: Jedi: Fallen Order Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, cursing, brief suicidal ideation/thoughts Word Count: 5,143

Author’s Note: the effort I had to put in not to make this another series...I had to stage an intervention for myself. Anyway, I love Cal and Kanan’s dynamic, whether as partners or as friends, and an Idea struck me that wouldn’t leave. Also, idk how old most people think Cal was when the war ended based on JFO clips, but I always just kind of went with him being the same age as Kanan at the end of the war bc I love them and I need them to know each other. The title is from the poem “So They Say— They Finally Nailed— The Proton’s Size— & Hope— Dies—” by Rosebud Ben-Oni.

Read On AO3

*

When the hard part is over, Cal returns to Bracca, his new lightsaber tucked under Cere’s old robe that still smells like the Temple, with the intention of burning Prauf’s body.

Caleb still had his own robe. He kept it in the deepest part of their shared closet, bringing it out only on the worst days. If Prauf saw it, he never mentioned it, and both boys were grateful for it. There was a lot he didn’t mention.

Cal thinks, sometimes, that Prauf knew who they were before. After all, it’s hard to look at two abandoned kids in the wake of the Clone Wars that can survive being riggers and not think of the thousands of Jedi younglings that died on Empire Day. It’s even harder to ignore two lightsabers and one ratty, brown robe.

Maybe Prauf wasn’t sure.

But he had to be, on that last day, when they found that fighter. When Cal caught him with the Force. He knew then, maybe before. But he still took care of them.

Maybe he knew when the Empire showed up, when Caleb heard the roar of a TIE Fighter and looked instantly to the redheaded boy beside him like he was about to die before his eyes. Maybe that was the moment he put it all together. Or was it his last moment? When the world began to go dark and both Cal and Caleb lashed out in fury at his killers with matching, bright blue blades—did he know? Did he know that he died for the children of an already dying Order?

Standing over the bonfire, Cal holds the Holocron in shaky hands.

Did Prauf know his sacrifice would save the life of every child just like them?

Cal moves away from the flames to the gap in the ground that they’d held Caleb over, his calloused hands clawing at the Ninth Sister, who clutched his throat.

Deep in Cal’s heart, he knows half the reason he beat her was for his best friend. He’d almost given in to rage but stopped himself at the memory of him. Revenge is not the way of the Jedi. But justice is. And so is survival, these days.

Caleb’s lightsaber fell long before he did. When he did fall, he went screaming bloody murder, the noise echoing in the silence that rang in Cal’s ears.

Standing at the edge now, Cal almost considers simply...stepping off.

He can survive it. He has before. And what’s to say that Caleb isn’t waiting at the bottom?

Caleb...used to like animals, he remembers. He preferred them to plants, which are unreadable if you don’t have practise with them. Animals, like people, are complex but tell you in simple terms what they want and what they don’t want. Cal has always been better with plants. They’re simple, grounding, natural. Caleb used to tease him for it.

The only plant he ever managed to grow on this place was a seedling in a boot filled with dirt he kept in their room. It had been making good progress in their last weeks, enough that he’d actually felt some semblance of hope.

And then...and then he’d lost everything. Again.

The Holocron burns in his hand, reminding him that there is more in store for him than an endless chasm. Hundreds of thousands of Force-sensitive children are depending on him now, him and the Mantis crew.

Cal lets out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t save you,” he whispers to the wind. “But maybe I can save them.”

On the way back to the Mantis, he turns around to go find the robe and the plant in its boot. The robe smells like blaster fire and the plant is wilting but both are comforting: one because it’s familiar and the other because it’s not quite gone yet.

*

Kanan changes his name.

It doesn’t feel right, hearing his given name from anyone that isn’t Cal or Prauf. The first and only time it happens, nausea sinks in and he quickly makes the change.

Some days, he wants to go back to Bracca. Some part of him still hopes Cal survived the Inquisitors, that he’s waiting for him back at what used to be home, but the logical part of him knows that he’s not. Kanan surviving was a miracle, a fluke, and those don’t happen twice. Sometimes he wishes it had never happened at all.

He managed to save his lightsaber, as broken to bits as it was. It and the necklace Cal gave him are all he has now.

Kanan doesn’t let himself grieve, as much as he knows he needs to. He hardly did it before, on Bracca, but now he won’t allow even a tear. Surviving is the only thing on his mind, though for what he doesn’t know.

When he almost loses that little piece of metal on a string, though, he breaks down sobbing.

It’s the stupidest thing, really. All those lessons on attachment are lost on him now, as he cries over the rusted symbol of the Jedi Order on a piece of scrap metal that Cal had put on a cord for him. He keeps it close to his heart, hanging off his neck every hour of every day if he can help it, and getting that close to losing it is the last straw.

He knows now, why he’s surviving. Because Cal would want him to.

Meeting Hera is a relief. She’s kind but curious, which is more of a bane than it should be.

(Painfully, he’s reminded of himself as a youngling. His Master always said his frequent questions were what drew her to him.)

She’s the first to know about his past, both as a Jedi and a rigger on Bracca. He doesn’t think to mention Caleb, doesn’t think it would matter to anyone, not until after a mission gone bad.

Hera is putting bacta on his wounds and graciously ignoring his constant wincing when she sees it.

She points to the cord after examining what hangs on it for a minute. “For someone who’s trying to be discreet, you wear a lot of Jedi stuff.”

Kanan snorts. “Yeah, well, I won’t get rid of this one.”

“It’s important to you,” she points out. “Can I ask why?”

He hesitates, swallowing roughly. “My best friend gave it to me...on Bracca, befo-before the Inquisitors caught up to us,” he admits. “He didn’t make it.”

Her eyes are full of empathy, something she never lacks. “What was his name?”

“Cal,” he says, voice quiet. “Cal Kestis.”

“If you remember his name,” she promises, “he’ll always be with you.”

It’s not so much a Twi’lek belief as it is her own but it reminds Kanan of Grey more than anyone else. His buir. The clones subscribed to many Mandalorian beliefs, including the echoing of remembrances for the dead. Before the abrupt end of the war, little Caleb used to say his every morning with his Master and buir.

So, he decides to start again. It’s difficult, at first, to even get through the first names, his oldest names.

“Depa Billaba,” he says through tears in the quiet of pre-dawn, “Grey, Styles, Prauf...”

He stops.

It’s hard to think, even harder to say, but he knows he needs to. He needs to tell himself the truth, needs to accept the truth.

“Cal—”

He sobs, shaky and painful. His throat burns just like it did when he fell down the chasm on Bracca, screaming his head off, part out of fear for himself but mostly for fear of what was happening to Cal above him. It hurts to speak it into the world, into the Force and those marching on. Cal is among them now, he knows. He just...has to admit it.

“Cal Kestis,” he finally says, the admission wobbly and half-hearted.

He never loses the necklace again.

*

They’ve finally settled on Bogano, after wiping every trace of it from Imperial data servers. The Holocron is safely locked away in the Vault, guarded by their crew and the Binog, fondly called ‘the big guy,’ mostly by fault of Greez.

Though mostly self-sufficient, occasionally some of them will leave the planet for supplies they can’t make themselves. While off on supply runs, well, they can’t help it if some Imperials just look like easy pickings. Apparently, slavers get the same treatment because Merrin ends up a figure in some sort of oral tradition of a Tatooine family, which Cal finds hilarious. Cere is not so amused and grounds them—literally, in that they can’t leave Bogano—for over a month.

Cal spends most of it repairing old platforms and ziplines, not to mention entertaining the Boglings.

They’re fond of him, for some reason, and BD-1, who loves to run around with them while Cal works. One in particular, named Rabid by Merrin after she stole her entire plate of food, is especially loveable.

Cal snickers as he pulls Rabid off his shoulder. “I have to finish this, then I can play.”

Rabid is not pleased with his answer, nibbling at his trousers.

“Rabid,” he chides, ignoring her in favour of his work. He laughs again. “I used to know somebody who would’ve loved you, annoying as you are.”

BD, who has taken Rabid’s place, beeps curiously.

Cal’s face falls a little. He pauses in his work. “Oh. I guess I’ve never told you about Caleb, huh?”

The little droid shakes his head.

Cal never intended to talk about Caleb to anyone, really, but it all comes pouring out. He tells BD and Rabid all about his old best friend, his confidant. The story is a long one, reaching from the creche all the way to Bracca and its bitter end. By the time he’s finished, his voice is quiet and hesitant, his grief echoing through.

Rabid curls up in his lap, nudging his hand, while BD sits in front of them, tilting his head.

A little light on the side of his scope says that he’s recording. He does that a lot, Cal knows, for prosperity, just like he was programmed to. Cal doesn’t mind, really.

When he finishes, BD gets his attention by chirping.

“Huh? You have something to show me?”

BD’s projector whirrs to life and a blue image appears. It’s Cordova, again, but not a video this time. It’s only a holo, of him and another Jedi—Master Jocasta Nu, Cal realises. Master Cordova is dead asleep on her shoulder and she’s leaned over to kiss his brow.

“Oh,” Cal breathes out, something jarring in his chest.

BD-1 thinks that he and Caleb were—well, were like that.

“I—” he pauses. “I dunno, buddy. I never asked him if...but I think…”

Well. It’d be a stretch to say Cal loved him, but he certainly cared for him more than he ever did anyone else. When they were thirteen and stupid, he might’ve said he had a crush on him. After the Fall, on Bracca, he just...didn't think of it. Caleb was all he had and he clung but he never...thought about what it was, thought about what they were.

It hurts to think of now, all that he missed.

“I don’t know if I did,” Cal tells BD quietly. “But I think I- I think I could have.”

BD asks about Caleb a lot, after that. Maybe he can tell that talking about him makes Cal happy. The others know about the one he lost but they don’t ask. They all have their demons and Cal’s are just...just too great to pile on another person. BD, though, is a little easier. All he wants is to see Cal smile again.

*

“What’s this?”

Kanan doesn’t think to look up at whatever Ezra—the newest addition to the Ghost crew—has swiped from him, until he notices a weight missing from his neck. His head snaps up to where a cord hangs from Ezra’s hand.

“Give that back,” Kanan growls, not meaning to be so aggressive.

Ezra’s eyes widen. He holds it out immediately, dropping it into Kanan’s open hand. “Sorry,” he mutters, watching curiously as Kanan puts it back on.

Almost by instinct, Kanan tucks the piece of scrap metal back under his shirt and breathes out a sigh of relief. He goes back to his datapad. Then, a moment later, when he notices the entire room is still silent, he looks up. Sabine and Zeb have joined Ezra in staring incredulously.

“What?” Kanan asks, his voice back to normal.

“I’ve never seen you that mad before,” Sabine admits with a half-shrug, though her eyes betray her concern.

Zeb nods, arms crossed. “And I’ve never seen you without that thing on your neck.”

“Yeah, you even sleep with it!” Ezra adds. “What’s up with that?”

“I—” He goes to make an excuse but stops, his hand fidgeting with the necklace.

“You don’t have to…” Sabine starts to say, but he shakes his head.

He sighs. To be honest, he’s surprised Zeb and Sabine haven’t asked before. “My best friend gave it to me.”

Ezra immediately sits down across from him, eyes wide. “Another Jedi?”

Admittedly, the kid is a lot like he used to be: always asking questions, always pushing. It’s going to get him in trouble someday but for now, it just gets him more stories out of Kanan, stories about the Jedi.

“Yeah. Yeah, another Padawan. We grew up in the Temple together.” He smiles, a fickle and fleeting thing. “He was picked by a Master before me, so we were separated...at the end. But I found him again, on the planet he was last assigned. He gave me this.”

Ezra’s face is bright, curious. Sabine, on the other hand, looks prepared for a gut-punch.

“What happened to him?” she asks quietly.

Kanan exhales sharply, ruefully. “Inquisitors. After 5 years of nothing, they came out of nowhere. I never saw what happened to him. For all I know, they still have him.”

“Oh,” Ezra says, his face falling.

“You know, Zeb,” Kanan begins, not wanting to make things any sadder, “his Master was a Lasat.”

He scoffs. “No way.”

“He was, swear it on my life!” he claims, raising a hand. “First time I saw you, I thought Master Tapal came back to haunt me for being a bad influence.”

Zeb snickers. “Bad influence? You?”

“Eh, a nudge here and there. We were not good kids.”

He tells them a few stories before Sabine and Zeb are called away by Hera and Chopper, leaving Ezra and Kanan alone. Ezra makes to follow them but stops, his expression cautiously blank.

“What is it, Ezra?” Kanan asks, already knowing that he’s brimming with curiosity.

“You said he was...your best friend?”

He frowns. “Yeah, ever since we were kids. Why?”

“I dunno. The way you talked about him just reminded me of my parents,” Ezra admits hesitantly. “Sappy. Did you—?”

Kanan sighs, touching his necklace again.

He had always been more reckless than Cal, back then. He threw himself into everything, into every situation. No matter the problem or the person, he was all-in. No matter what. And that included Cal. Once he took that step, he was karked. Before he knew it, he was hanging onto the redhead’s every word.

Cal was...different. Kanan had known that for a long time but the war only brought it out.

Kanan had a stupid crush, that was all. But on Bracca, it was everything and more.

He’d known then, known for a long time. Cal had never seen it but he didn’t have to. Kanan was fine the way things were. It didn’t feel right, bringing things up after...well, after. So Cal never knew.

(Sure, he could see the past of things with a single touch of his hands but he’d always been pretty oblivious.)

“Love him?” Kanan asks, raising an eyebrow.

Ezra nods.

It’s without hesitation that he answers. “I did.”

When they go in search of Master Luminara, Kanan’s kids buy him a precious few minutes to search for a Cal Kestis in the prisoner logs. He’s not there, of course, but Kanan thinks he prefers that to a death certificate.

*

“Ho-oly shit,” Greez says over comms one day. “You guys better get up here.”

Cal shares a look with Cere, following her out of the workshop with BD on his shoulder. Merrin has already teleported to Greez’s side when they arrive, lightsabers in hand. Greez passes the young man—not so young anymore, Cere has commented teasingly as he desperately shaves away any trace of his age—a pair of electrobinoculars.

Squinting through the scope, he spies a trail of smoke on the horizon attached to a ship.

“Kriffing hells,” Cere says after she gets a look.

In all their 10 years here, no one has ever landed—or crashed, for that matter—on the planet. The few ships that have come into orbit were Imperial and always quickly dealt with before word could get out. This one, however, isn’t exactly your standard Imperial cruiser. And it’s wrecked.

“Looks like a modified VCX-100 light freighter to me,” Greez says. “It’s a nice ship.”

Merrin rolls her eyes. “Are we waiting for them to come to us?”

“Looks like we don’t have to,” Cere declares, still looking through the binocs. “They’re headed this way, six hostiles. Three humans, a Lasat, a Twi’lek, and a droid.”

Greez laughs. “A Lasat? We’re kriffed.”

“Says you,” Merrin snorts.

“I’m with her,” Cal agrees, a cocky smile on his face. “Merrin and I will take the Vault. Cere, Greez, take home. BD will lure the big ones our way.”

“You got it, kid.”

Cere puts a hand on his shoulder before he can follow Merrin—more or less, seeing as she just teleports everywhere. “Be careful.”

The worst part of intruders is that even the hypothetical good ones can’t know Bogano is here. They’ll have to knock them out hard enough for their memories to be spotty and dump them in a nearby system if they’re smart—and they are.

Cal slips on his robe, a gift from Cere, and flips the hood up, making for the Vault.

If these visitors think they can take the Holocron, they have another thing coming.

*

“Are you sure we can find help here?” Ezra asks for the third time as they approach the massive building in the distance. “It looks...deserted.”

Hera sighs for the third time. “Scanners said there were signs of life here in a higher concentration than the rest of the planet. It’s worth checking out.”

Sabine gestures through the mild fog. “There’s buildings up ahead.”

“Good, let’s head there,” Kanan says, a cautious hand on his lightsaber.

Hopping across platforms is a pain, but they all manage to make their way to what looks like a residential area. A small path digs into the ground, leading deeper inside the planet’s crust. With a look at her second in command, Hera starts toward it. However, she stops when Kanan freezes.

“Do you feel that?” he asks suddenly, squinting as he looks into the distance.

Something is...tugging at him. Something in the Force is insistent that he go...that way. The feeling of incompleteness settles inside his chest.

“No…” Ezra replies uneasily. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.” After a moment, he decides. “I think I should go this way. You guys go on ahead.”

Zeb scoffs. “I’ll go with you. We don’t know who lived here. Could be Inquisitors for all we know.”

“They generally prefer places with lava,” Ezra counters.

The group splits, with Hera leading Sabine, Chopper, and Ezra into the abode. She and Sabine have their blasters raised, while Ezra keeps a hand on his lightsaber. Chopper is always ready to give someone a nasty shock.

“Anyone home?” Sabine calls.

There’s no answer.

They come across a small kitchen and dining room, where two chairs are pulled out. Over one hangs a small, ratty brown robe with multiple blaster burns.

Ezra plucks it off the back of the seat. “Woah, cool,” he breathes. “Very Jedi-like, huh?”

“Leave it, Ezra,” Hera chides fondly.

“You’d best,” says another voice.

All three of them jump as a lightsaber hums to life. Double-bladed, the weapon burns bright white throughout the room, illuminating its bearer, a woman with dark skin and hair, and her companion.

“Inquisitor!” Ezra cries, lighting his own.

The lightsaber wielder’s friend fires off a blaster right at Hera, who’s shoved out of the way by Sabine. Chopper shrieks, his head spinning.

“Look out!”

On the surface, Zeb follows Kanan to the edge of the platform. There, they find a zip line, which they intend to brave before a series of chirps stops them.

Zeb yelps and lifts his rifle when a droid appears, only stopped by Kanan’s raised hand.

It’s...a buddy droid.

“Hey, little guy,” Kanan greets cautiously. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

He beeps excitedly and backs away, indicating that they should follow. With a single leap, he attaches himself to the zipline and whirrs as he zooms all the way down.

“Don’t tell me we’re following the droid,” Zeb groans.

Kanan just smiles. “We’re following the droid.”

Using the Force to balance himself, he leaps atop the zipline and begins to tiptoe his way down. Behind him, Zeb sighs but reaches up to grab the line, following right after him. They land on a platform a good distance away, where a small slope is guarded by two statues; the beings depicted are of an unknown species, one lost to time.

“I don’t like this,” Zeb says as soon as he hops onto the grass. “It’s like the start of a bad horror holo.”

Kanan snorts. “If that were true, it would be raining tookas and massiffs.”

The buddy droid whirrs loudly to get their attention and bounces his way up the sloping path, on top of which sits a fluffy native creature. Kanan doesn’t know what they’re called, but this one is adorable. She chirps at them, much like the droid did.

“Oh, you’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Kanan coos, moving to meet the creature and let her sniff his hand.

She makes a happy noise and nudges him.

“Ugh,” Zeb mutters, “more things.”

The droid and the creature lead them to the entrance of the massive, ancient building that had caught Kanan’s eye from the crash site. He steps in front of Zeb, placing his hand on the runes in the rock as the Force sings. This isn’t what’s calling him, but…

“Something is here,” Kanan whispers.

“I hope it’s not something that wants to eat us,” Zeb says long-sufferingly.

The slab of rock retreats into the space above, leaving an open tunnel of sorts.

“Karabast,” the Lasat curses, “I hate Jedi stuff.”

Kanan rolls his eyes. “C’mon.”

It’s a tight fit, but the two squeeze their way through, Kanan leading the way. They exit into a large cavern filled with a few inches of water, just enough to be annoying. Standing in the midst of the cave is a figure in a brown robe. The moment Kanan spots him, he draws his lightsaber and stands in front of Zeb until he can ready his rifle, too.

“You are not meant to be here.”

Kanan frowns. “The Force says otherwise. Who are you?”

“The guardian of this vault. You need to leave,” the figure says.

From underneath their robe, they draw a very familiar weapon. With a snap and a hiss, two blades of yellow light appear. Kanan lights his own lightsaber in response but it’s too little too late.

A green smoke encompasses Zeb, who yelps as he’s flung across the room by a pissed off Nightsister—which makes zero sense because they’re all supposed to be dead.

Kanan makes for his friend, interrupted only by the mysterious guardian rushing at him.

“Where did you get that lightsaber?” the faceless figure hisses.

And, well, Kanan doesn’t know how to answer that question except with another question. “Where did you get yours? ”

Back in the residential platform, Hera leaps in between Ezra and the lightsaber-wielder. “Wait!” she cries.

Both stop, staring at her like she’s crazy.

“That’s a healed kyber crystal, isn’t it?” Hera asks, pointing to her white blade. “You’re not an Inquisitor. You’re a Jedi.”

The woman lowers her lightsaber just slightly. “I was.”

“I’m one, too!” Ezra chirps, popping out from behind Hera. “Er. I’m training to be one!”

Her eyes widen. “A Padawan? Who’s your Master?”

Before he can answer, Hera speaks for him. “Kanan Jarrus. But his name used to be Caleb Dume.”

“Caleb?” she asks, her voice hushed in awe. “Depa Billaba’s Padawan?”

She nods.

Abruptly, the woman turns sharply on her heel, raising her comm unit to her lips and rushing out the door. “Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

“What!?” Ezra and Sabine cry at the same time, the former’s voice cracking.

Without another word, they follow her and her friend outside.

*

Merrin has the Lasat out of the Vault long before Cal gets his opponent to the entrance, admittedly. Lightsaber to lightsaber combat is significantly more balanced than Nightsister magick against a bo-rifle, poor guy.

Still, Cal pushes the intruder to the top of the Vault’s slope, the man just on the edge of slipping.

That’s when Cere’s voice crackles through the comms.

“Cal, they’re non-hostiles, non-hostiles! Don’t hurt your boyfriend!”

Hand grasping the intruder’s shirt, holding him above the edge, Cal freezes. He meets brown eyes and suddenly can’t breathe, gaze drifting to the cord around the taller man’s neck. His gloveless fingers just barely skim the material, Force signatures exploding in front of his eyes.

And suddenly, he can see it. He can see himself, painstakingly painting that symbol onto the metal and bartering for a cord. He sees an older Caleb sobbing in the quiet of an unfamiliar room, clutching that necklaces like a lifeline.

“Did you—?”

“Love him? I did.”

A shaky breath passes his lips.

“Caleb?” he asks, voice breaking on the name that’s so unfamiliar on his tongue.

The grip on his wrist loosens.

Kanan hears the woman’s voice, clear as day, but he almost doesn’t believe it at first. He almost doesn’t believe when he hears that whispered question. Caleb. It’s the name of a stranger and yet—yet when that robe’s hood slips off to reveal red hair and bright green eyes, he feels like he’s never known any other name.

“Cal?”

The Force wasn’t calling him to the Vault. It was calling him to its guardian.

Silence falls, the rest of the world fading away. All they’ve been through, all they’ve seen, and it all stops in this moment. It all adds up to this.

Cal lets go of his shirt, letting him balance precariously at the top of the muddy slope down from the Vault. Neither of them speaks—neither of them knows what to feel, except bright, unparalleled joy.

Cal doesn’t let himself flinch when Caleb reaches, his fingers just barely skimming his cheek.

He doesn’t get much further. Green smoke encompasses his body and before Cal knows it, his best friend is being flung from the Vault entrance to the platform beyond, screaming as he goes. The platform beyond, where the Oggdo used to reside, is covered in flowers. It was there that Cal planted his little sapling in a boot and there that the plant spread, covering almost every inch of land with budding blue and yellow flowers.

Cal whirls around to see Merrin, her eyes glowing green.

“Merrin, no!” he protests, eyes wide with desperation. “That’s Caleb!”

Merrin’s glowing fades as she glances at the nearby Lasat and her friend’s horrified face. “My mistake,” she says in that tone that says she knows exactly who he is.

(They were taking too long to speak, in her opinion.)

Cal huffs at her before getting a running start toward the entrance, using the Force to balance himself as he slides down that muddied slope, sailing right toward Caleb. Near the end, he leaps into the air, propelling himself a mere few feet from his collapsed companion.

“Caleb!” he cries, stumbling the last few steps and falling to his knees, where Caleb is face-down in the damp grass, his hair-tie mysteriously missing.

Caleb is—well, he’s okay. He’s just...wheezing with laughter.

He pushes himself up on his elbows and flips over just as Cal makes it to him, his chest heaving with the effort. And still, he laughs, a half-mad sound.

“Are you o—?” Cal is cut off by his own yelp when Caleb flings himself up from the ground and pulls Cal with him.

He embraces the redhead, dragging them both to their feet so he can swing Cal around. Cal shrieks and hitches his legs up on his hips, as difficult as that is with the man’s height—the bastard, he grew. He reaches desperately for Caleb’s shoulders to hold onto when they spin, completely unaware of Cere and the rest of Caleb’s group appearing on the platform.

Finally, Caleb stops, looking up at Cal with shining eyes and a smile that could kill a man. Cal leans forward, letting his forehead fall against his and breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I thought the Inquisitors had you,” Caleb whispers, a thousand more words in the back of his mind, too many to count.

Cal’s eyes well with tears. “I thought you were dead.”

Caleb has always been more reckless than Cal but the latter was the one to hear his words echo through that necklace, an admission years too late. It’s because of that little echo that Cal buries a hand in the hair that falls to his shoulders and pushes his head upward, meeting him in a searing kiss.

Out of shock, Caleb both squeaks—adorable, Cal thinks—and clutches the back of Cal’s shirt for a moment before dropping him. Luckily, his instinct has him landing on his feet.

The drop pulls him away and, looking up, he sees Caleb looking shell-shocked.

He just grins, grabs the taller man’s shirt, and pulls him in for another kiss, this one saying much more than the first. Caleb plants his feet and buries a hand in Cal’s hair for good measure.

They both ignore Greez cackling in the distance and Sabine’s whispered: “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck —”

Because in that moment, all is right with the galaxy. Cal’s flowers are fully grown and blossoming beneath their feet, Caleb’s robe is waiting for him in the other room, and they have each other again.

And that’s all they’ve ever really wanted, isn’t it?

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[punkscowardschampions]

Liam & Edie

Liam: [a picture of Rio with her eyes crossed out like 1. Miss you and 2. Guess who I just talked to]

Edie: ofc she did 😑

Edie: what’s the damage

Liam: 0 to us I deflected the - to Lexie

Liam: do you want her framed for jumpscaring herself or is there anyone else

Edie: That’s all she cared about?

Edie: Bitch

Liam: it just didn’t take no time to convince her we’re perfect for each other

Liam: bc we are

Edie: yeah we are 🥰

Edie: surprised she copped to anything of the sort though

Edie: clearly can’t resist being nice to you

Edie: Lexie needs to calm down

Edie: 🤔 I mean, be kinda fucking hilarious if everyone reckoned she was doing it to herself

Edie: but maybe I’ve been too mean already 🥺

Edie: what do you think?

Liam: I think it’s pretty close to showing everyone her true colours if we do, Lex has gotta have been talking to your sister about me, I could tell, she thought I was a dick before I talked her round

Edie: She wouldn’t be happy for me unless you were a total 🤓 with no dick

Edie: that’s just what she’s like, crazy

Edie: but also not a stretch to see Lexie being a gossipy cow, I’ve heard her on other people before so

Edie: why would I give a fuck if her life is ruined

Liam: she basically accused me of wanting to hit you up for one reason and then wanting to immediately dip, if she thinks that’s what I’m like that’s only coming from one person

Edie: She’s pathetic

Edie: it’s clearly her saying it because you didn’t sleep with her

Edie: it wouldn’t be hard to spoof some shit, make it look like her

Edie: and she has nothing to say it was me, or you like she thought, and it weren’t no one else so she’s fucked, basically

Liam: [send her some shit that you’ve already started to work on because you knew she’d agree with this plan and the bits of the Rio convo where you said you’d try and find out and made it sound like you thought it was her but obvs it couldn’t possibly be hehe]

Edie: You’re so smart

Edie: She deserves this, she was definitely bitching about you, you can tell from how hard Rih said she weren’t

Liam: don’t be upset with me, but I was thinking about how Lexie also deserves to see us together and you happy and I invited them both to your show

Liam: you did say you want your family to take your music seriously

Edie: I’m not mad

Edie: You invited Rih too so she isn’t going to think you’re trying to get back with her

Edie: and I get to rub that and the fact I’m talented in her face?

Edie: It’s a good idea, baby

Liam: still, if you wanna create me in game and spend your time testing out different murder options, I won’t be mad, I should’ve asked you if it was a good idea before saying yeah to having us all there

Edie: [an 8-bit Liam but obvs we’re making an 8-bit us to smooch him not murder him, a lil gif moment of this or whatever it would be]

Liam: you only want a play through where we 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻

Edie: that might make the thread 🤮 but idk if they’d be 😱

Liam: we’ll keep it off thread

Liam: [send her the floor plan to where your dad lives/holiday cottages so she can build it in sims like my boo would, live your dreams kids]

Edie: don’t need to make 50k nerds jealous, I get you

Edie: [just nerd out with that]

Edie: I’ll show you how generic the 👶 is

Edie: very rude

Liam: if the mods and cc don’t fix it, I’ll pretend I don’t 👀

Edie: the 👀 are already insane colours

Liam: no match for yours in real life

Edie: [pics forever]

Edie: [obviously also make your enemies to actually kill and send that]

Liam: if you sent it to Lexie nobody’d believe she created herself looking that accurate

Edie: harsh reality of a sim

Edie: the alpha CC does look like her facetune attempts, tbf

Liam: at least you can make her try to seduce the grim reaper instead of me

Edie: she’ll have ample opportunity to meet him

Edie: [all the dramatic deaths cut with her sim when they get hysterical]

Edie: I’m still mad at her

Edie: Rih blatantly thinking it was me too, not surprising but still 🖕

Edie: how’s it been today

Liam: only bc she knows how smart you are and most people who Lex hangs out with ain’t, I barely had to cover for you so she don’t really wanna think it

Edie: story of her life

Liam: how 😡 are you

Edie: it’s exhausting being mad at her, there’s nothing to do

Edie: people like Lexie, you can fuck with, or care even less than that

Liam: would it make you feel better to fuck with Lexie more

Edie: I wanna make you feel better more

Edie: you must be feeling as bored and crazy as me, if not more

Liam: if I could feel anything it’d be 💔 you’re not happy or here

Edie: is it worse

Edie: nothing

Edie: maybe that’s stupid

Edie: nothing seems preferable sometimes but only sometimes, which is maybe what takes it over feeling too much

Liam: it’s isolating, everyone expects me to feel too much, that’s acceptable, even years after

Edie: acceptance would be easier

Edie: you have me

Edie: no matter what

Edie: idc if no one else gets me, you do

Liam: I dunno what it says about people that they’d be happy if I was going round punching holes in walls but I know my ma would

Liam: she looks at me like she’s waiting for it, watching for a massive crack or something

Edie: they’ve got their reason, they want the reaction

Edie: then they can link a and b and ???

Edie: problem solved, not really

Edie: but they understand it and can wash their hands of you

Edie: that’s what they give a shit about

Liam: yeah

Edie: enough sympathy and hot meals dropped off and you’ll be ‘fixed’

Edie: you weren’t even the sick one

Liam: get enough hobbies, a part-time job, a girlfriend, move the fuck on

Edie: right

Edie: it’s so

Edie: I can’t think of the word

Liam: “she’d want you to be happy/have a life” no she fucking wouldn’t, she wanted it for herself

Edie: dead people get sainted

Edie: no room for who they actually were, better and worse

Liam: she’d hate me having any of those things just to rub in her face

Edie: what was she like, between being sick

Liam: I’ll show you

Edie: do you reckon she’d want you to remember what she’d want for you then, instead of how she was at the end

Edie: not to be like every other cunt about it

Edie: not that simple, or at all

Liam: she was a teenage girl, she’d probably want me to do more fitting in too until I’ve completed the coming of age shite milestones everyone else is, instead of telling other teenage girls from the internet how fucked up I am 😏

Edie: I think that might be a milestone so 👏

Edie: the bullshit of your sister not having her own life to live dealt with then, in this scenario

Edie: we have to find what you want

Edie: even if that’s not 🤵👧🐶🧒👰 with me

Edie: not gonna be Lexie about it, you know

Edie: I’ll still help you find it

Liam: I want you, not to be gay about it

Liam: to see where this is gonna go, how far I can take it before it ends

Edie: then let’s do it

Edie: what can I do today

Liam: what would you be doing if you could do anything

Edie: that’s the problem

Edie: I wanna be with you

Edie: but I don’t know what we’d do yet

Liam: I said I’d show you what my sister was like, the quickest way to do it is to act like nothing matters, your behaviour has no consequences

Liam: it’s not about me at all, only what you want, what’s gonna happen

Edie: and I can’t hurt you

Edie: because you don’t feel anything yet, yeah?

Liam: you can’t hurt me

Edie: you promise

Edie: do that and then we can do what I want

Liam: how do you want me to promise

Edie: 🤏🩸

Edie: mine is 📫

Liam: [brb father he’s gotta go draw some blood and put it into something she can wear as jewellery like Angelina Jolie and record the endeavour to send to the bae]

Edie: [that’s exactly what we gonna send, I know you can legit buy them so I’ll find a cool pic tah, his poor father so confusion]

Liam: [great minds boo]

Edie: kiss it better for me

Liam: [send her another video boy we’re in this deep]

Edie: god

Edie: okay, what do you do to relieve stress, let go and let off steam

Edie: do that

Liam: what do I do or what should you, bc I have an idea that I think would make you feel better about your sister

Edie: you can start by telling me what I should do because I’m intrigued

Liam: she said she’d lose it at Lexie if she did anything to you, if you lower your IQ by at least 100 you could have fun trashing her room but making it look like she did it herself to frame you, you’d have to wait til she was forced out with her family and bc there’s no check in or selfie proof everyone would just think they’re covering for her, but that’d be the only boring bit

Liam: your sister would feel bad for falling for it and believing you might be involved at all

Edie: I definitely don’t want to see her at mine ever again

Edie: I’ll do it

Edie: Bet she has a shrine to you

Liam: a curse would explain me being dead inside

Edie: she has no ✨

Edie: so whilst I’m ripping the heads off all her 🧸s

Edie: you’ve gotta do…

Liam: 🏊 the only thing there is to do

Edie: your da didn’t come prepared? 🔥🪓

Liam: he’d be prepared with a 🧯 more like but I don’t need his help 🔥🪓

Edie: you should see if anyone is around, like anywhere

Edie: see how easy it is to 👀 them without getting caught

Liam: it’s like you know me inside out

Edie: I do

Edie: I’ve got X-Ray 👀s

Liam: next time you miss me you can do an artistic rendering

Edie: of all your vital organs

Edie: not to kill the mystery and show myself up as a fake fan on the forums

Edie: but I think the outside view of you is a lot prettier 😳🥰

Liam: ok I’ll not send you any in the 📫

Edie: only the non-vitals, tah 😏

Liam: what’s left Alexis hasn’t got in her shrine

Edie: she 🥺 so hard you gave her your gallbladder

Liam: 10% risk of shitting myself side effects after it’s gone, 100% chance of that putting her off wanting to jump me, I’d do it

Edie: no need to do that now I’m here

Edie: no one is gonna wanna jump her when she’s outed as 😵🥴🤡

Liam: I’ll keep the scalpel sharp for lads who wanna get with you when they realise you’re 🤩🤓😎😇😈

Edie: I’m not complaining

Edie: I only want you around, ever

Liam: I’ll be going nowhere without you ever when I get back

Edie: Good

Edie: because I feel like

Edie: it’s like I’m doing so much to fill my time but I still just think about and miss you constantly

Liam: I’ll climb a tree and call you from the top

Edie: Describe your view the best you can

Edie: like I’m there too

Liam: facetime’ll make you feel like you are

Edie: not quite VR but I’ll take it

Edie: talking to you feels like our own 🪐 anyway

Liam: [do climb a tree and call her because what a mood just like you’re Elizabeth Allen]

Edie: [save that tree henny]

Liam: [do we wanna skip to his bday now or is there anything else you can think of that you wanna do while he’s still away?]

Edie: [hmm, we probably know the vibe, she’s busy with all the things they’re gonna continue when he’s back, also finding the first house they can break into and stay in, fucking with Lexie loads more]

Liam: [yeah and if we do think of anything specific later we can skip back it’s chill]

Edie: [let’s do it]

[uncloseted]

my mom keeps badgering me about the capital event bc i really hated it but i support the blm protests and she says it’s hypocritical of me bc the protests were just as “violent” as the capital and “caused lots of deaths”. i never really have anything to say back to justify what went down, do you have any info i could use to explain myself? i know they were for completely different causes and one actually matters, but i don’t know how to justify the “violence” (i personally don’t think a majority of them were violent, all the ones where i lived were routinely peaceful and i think the extreme ones were sensationalized for the news). anyway sorry if it’s dumb i’m 14 and just trying to get into politics and stuff so i’m not super well informed and just trying to learn.

I’m sorry this has taken me a few days to get to.  What happened at the Capitol is complicated, and I want to make sure I give you as full of an answer as possible.  I also want to just quickly say that it’s awesome you’re getting involved in politics at such a young age and trying to help your parents understand these issues.  I would love to answer any questions you have about politics or social issues (or just kind of anything in general, I’m not picky).  Last thing and then I’ll get into the meat of this post- I’m a huge supporter of the BLM and police abolition movements and was a protestor over the summer, so I’m maybe a little bit biased.  This situation makes me really angry on a personal level, but I’ll try to stick to just the facts as much as possible in this post and let you know when I’m showing my own opinions.

So the first thing I want to talk about is language.  The Black Lives Matter protests were protests- a public expression of objection, disapproval or dissent towards a political idea or action, usually with the intention of influencing government policy.  In the US, protesting is a constitutional right protected by the First Amendment.  The storming of the Capitol was not a protest, and it wasn’t intended to be.  It was planned several weeks in advance with the explicit intention of disrupting the counting of Electoral College ballots.  Their stated goal was to overturn Donald Trump’s defeat in the presidential election, an election that is widely considered to be the freest, fairest, and safest election in US history (ironically, in part due to Trump’s insistence that there was voter fraud in the 2016 election).  Storming a public building is not a form of protest protected by the US Constitution.  Further, an attempt to overturn a democratic election is an attempt to carry out a coup.  The Capitol rioters will likely be charged with sedition (conduct that incites rebellion against the established order) and/or insurrection (a violent uprising against an authority or government).  The Black Lives Matter protestors were not attempting to carry out a coup against the US government, and none have been charged with offenses as big as those.

Next, I want to touch on motivation.  The Black Lives Matter protesters were protesting against police brutality towards minorities, particularly Black people.  There has long been a documented history of police misconduct and fatal use of force by law enforcement officers against Black people in the US.  Many protests in the past have been a response to police violence, including the 1965 Watts riots, the 1992 Los Angeles riots, and the 2014 and 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in response to the murders of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Freddie Gray.  By contrast, the Capitol rioters were not motivated by fact.  They were called to action by the President of the United States, Donald Trump.  They were told that the election had been “stolen” from Trump, and were encouraged to march over to the Capitol to “take back our country”.  The idea that the election was stolen from the president is demonstrably false.  They weren’t motivated by a social issue, a concern for their own lives, facts, or even really principle.  “Our president wants us here...we wait to take orders from our president,” was what motivated them. The affiliations of those rioters are varied, but many of them are affiliated with either the far-right, anti-government Boogaloo Boys, the explicitly neofascist Proud Boys, the self-proclaimed militia The Oath Keepers, or the far-right militia group Three Percenters.  Many are also on the record as being QAnon followers (followers of a disproven far-right conspiracy that started off as a 4chan troll, which states that an anonymous government official, “Q”, is providing information about a cabal of Satan-worshiping, cannibalistic pedophiles in the Democratic party who are running a child sex trafficking ring and plotting against Trump.  Yes, really).

The intentions of BLM were largely peaceful.  BLM protest documents encouraged protesters to be peaceful even in the face of police violence, because the BLM protesters knew what the price of being violent would be.  We were encouraged not to bring weapons or anything that could be misconstrued as a weapon.  Even non-violent protests were met with tear gas, rubber bullets, and riot gear.  A reported 96.3% of 7,305 BLM protests were entirely peaceful (no injuries, no property damage).  The 292 “violent incidents” in question were mainly the toppling of statues of “colonial figures, slave owners, and Confederate leaders”.  There were also several instances of right wing, paramilitary style militia movements discharging firearms into crowds of protesters, and 136 confirmed incidences of right-wing participation at the protests (including members of the aforementioned Boogaloo Boys, Three Percenters, Oath Keepers, and Proud Boys).  It was also rumored that off-duty police were inciting violence (although to my knowledge, that is unconfirmed).  There is no evidence that “antifa” (a decentralized, left-wing, anti-racist and anti-fascist group) played a role in instigating the protests or violence, or even that they had a significant role in the protests at all.  People who were involved in crimes were not ideologically organized, and were largely opportunists taking advantage of the chaos for personal gain.  

By contrast, the “Storm the Capitol” documents were largely violent; messages like, “pack a crowbar,” and “does anyone know if the windows on the second floor are reinforced” were common on far-right social media platforms.  One message on 8kun (formerly 8chan, a website linked to white supremacy, neo-Nazism, the alt-right, etc) stated, "you can go to Washington on Jan 6 and help storm the Capitol....As many Patriots as can be. We will storm the government buildings, kill cops, kill security guards, kill federal employees and agents, and demand a recount."  The speakers at the Trump rally encouraged attendees to see themselves as foot soldiers fighting to save the country, and to be ready to “bleed for freedom”.  The Capitol rioters were mostly armed; rioters were reportedly seen firing pepper spray at police officers, and pipe bombs, molotov cocktails, and guns (including illegal assault rifles) were found on the protesters. One protester was filmed saying, “believe me, we are well armed if we need to be.”  Some protesters arrived in paramilitary regalia, including camo and Kevlar vests.

I quickly want to touch on scale.  The George Floyd BLM protests are thought to be the largest protests in US history, with between 15 and 26 million (largely young, sometimes children, minority) people attending a protest in over 2000 cities in 60 countries.  There were around 14,000 arrests, most being low-level offenses such as violating curfews or blocking roadways. 19 deaths have been reported, largely at the hands of police.  Only one death is known to have been a law enforcement officer.  The number of people who stormed the Capitol is still somewhat unclear, but it seems to be between 2,000 and 8,000 (largely older white, cis, straight, Christian men) people.  80+ people have been arrested for federal crimes, including 25+ who are being charged with domestic terrorism (something nobody associated with BLM is being accused of).  There have been five deaths reported.  One was a police officer, and the other four were rioters.  Of those deaths, one was a police related shooting (a female Air Force veteran).  The other three died of unrelated medical emergencies.  One reportedly had a history of high blood pressure and suffered a heart attack from the excitement.  

Now I want to look at government response.  During the BLM protests, there was a huge response from law enforcement.  200 cities imposed curfews, 30 states and Washington DC activated over 96,000 National Guard, State Guard, 82nd Airborne, and 3rd Infantry Regiment service members.  The deployment was the largest military operation other than war in US history, and it was in response to protests concerning, in part, the militarization of police forces.  The police were outfitted in riot gear.  They used physical force against BLM protesters, including batons, tear gas, pepper spray, and rubber bullets, “often without warning or seemingly unprovoked,” per the New York Times.  Anecdotally, everyone I know now knows how to neutralize pepper spray, treat rubber bullet wounds, build shields out of household items, how to prevent cellphones from being tracked, and how to confuse facial recognition technology to prevent being identified (as six men connected to the Ferguson protests mysteriously turned up dead afterwards, and the police were using cellphone tracking technology).  Amnesty International issued a press release calling for police to end excessive militarized response to the protests.  There were 66 incidents of vehicles being driven into crowds of protesters, 7 of which explicitly involved police officers, the rest of which were by far-right groups.  Over 20 people were partially blinded after being struck with police projectiles.  When the BLM protests were happening, Trump said that, “when the looting starts, the shooting starts.”

In contrast, the response to the Capitol protesters was relatively tame, especially given that the US Capitol’s last breach was over 200 years ago (when British troops set fire to the building during the war of 1812) and the rioters weren’t being shy about their aspirations to conduct an armed insurrection incited by the sitting president.  There was (widely available, able to be found through a Google search, everyone saw it) prior intelligence that far-right, extremist groups were planning on (violently) Storming the Capitol on January 6th, with the intention of interrupting the Electoral College ballot counting and holding lawmakers hostage.  However, the US Capitol Police insisted that a National Guard presence would not be necessary for the protests, and Pentagon officials reportedly restricted DC guard troop from being deployed except as a measure of last resort, and restricted them from receiving ammunition or riot gear.  They were instructed to engage with rioters only in self-defense, and were banned from using surveillance equipment.  Despite prior knowledge of the “protests”, Capitol Police staffing levels mirrored that of a normal day, and no riot control equipment was prepared.  The Capitol Police weren’t in paramilitary gear the way they were for the BLM protests.  The mob walked in to the Capitol with little resistance.  Some scaled walls, some broke down barricades, some smashed windows, and one video even seems to show Capitol Police opening a gate for the mob. Rioters traipsed around the Capitol (one of the most important government buildings in the country) with little resistance, looting and vandalizing offices of Congress members.  Some rioters felt safe enough to give their names to media outlets, livestream their exploits, and take selfies with police officers.  One man was (ironically) carrying a Confederate flag, a symbol of a secession attempt on the part of the South (and of racism). It took 50 minutes for FBI tactical teams to arrive at the scene, and the National Guard were initially directed by Trump not to intervene.  Pence later overturned that ruling and approved the National Guard.  Police used finally used riot gear, shields, smoke grenades, and batons to retake control of the Capitol, but notably no tear gas or rubber bullets.  Video showed rioters being escorted away without handcuffs.  Trump’s response to the riot was, "we love you. You're very special ... but you have to go home." 

This is where I’m going to get a little editorial, but I think it’s important to say.  If the people storming the Capitol Building were Black, they would have been met with a large, pre-coordinated military presence, violent restraint, arrests, and quite possibly would have been shot.  They wouldn’t have made it inside the Capitol, much less been given free rein to wander around without immediate consequence. Hundreds of people during the George Floyd protests were arrested for just being present- 127 protesters were arrested for violating curfew on June 2nd in Detroit alone, twice the number of arrests made during the storming of the US Capitol.  It turns out that the police do know how to use restraint, after all.  What an absolute shock.  It’s almost like they’re a corrupt and racist institution we should get rid off...

The last big thing I want to talk about is the outcome.  The BLM protests were meaningful, but the outcome from them has been tame.  Nobody has been accused of domestic terrorism. State and local governments evaluated their police department policies and made some changes, like banning chokeholds, partially defunding some departments, and passing regulations that departments must recruit in part from the communities they patrol.  Only one city, Minneapolis, pledged to dismantle their police force.  The response has largely been localized.  I think the biggest impact it’s had is introducing people to the concept of police abolition and getting more people involved in the movement.  By contrast, the Capitol riots have resulted in over 25 people being accused of domestic terrorism and the second attempt to impeach Donald Trump, something that has never happened before in the history of the US.  

But what really concerns me is the precedent this sets.  Donald Trump is an idiot, and he’s gotten this far.  We can’t count on the guy who takes his place to be an idiot, too.  The next guy could be clever, strategic, well-spoken, well-mannered... not to invoke Godwin’s law here, but people liked Hitler.  He was a persuasive speaker and capitalized on conspiracy theories about World War 1 to gain support.  His 1923 attempt to overthrow the Bavarian government failed, but sympathy for his aims grew.  He painted himself as a good, moral man who loved dogs and children and was trying to do right by his country (by, among other things, arresting communists and leftists, and then eventually all minorities).  Trump isn’t Hitler.  He’s not even a Hitler analogue.  But Trump has already done this much damage to the fabric of our society.  He’s worn down our relationship with the media, with one another, with democracy, with morality, and with truth itself.  We have to be prepared for the idea that the next guy might be a much better politician.  Getting rid of Trump isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of a fight against fascism that’s only going to grow from here.

There are other differences you could point to.  BLM protesters wore masks to prevent the spread of COVID (and indeed, researchers have reported that the protests did not drive an increase in virus transmission), for example, while the rioters were largely unmasked.  But I think the bottom line is that the millions of BLM protesters were doing their best to be responsible citizens fighting peacefully for an evidence-based, human rights cause, even though they knew that as a primarily minority group of people, they would be met with violence.  The thousands of far-right, white, Capitol insurrectionists were doing their best to overturn a free, fair, safe, and democratic election because of a call to action by Trump and a stringent belief in disproven conspiracy theories, which they knew would be met with minimal resistance despite the severity of their actions.  The insurrectionists are fascists, full stop, and we should call them what they are.  The BLM protesters were by and large just people, of all different political views and motivations, who wanted to fight against something they saw as unjust.  

I’m sorry that this is such a long post. This topic has been on my mind all week, and I wanted to give it the nuance it deserves.  All we can do from here is to keep fighting- for justice, for truth, and, hopefully, for peace.

[aryn-writes]

And we are back to over sharing to deal with my mental health

TW: Caps, Eating Disorders, Self-Harm, Depression, Anxiety

Venting Post!

I am so tired. And before you ask, yes I sleep over six hours every night. When I can, I sleep over 12. So my sleeping is not the issue.

The issue is that I have no fucking clue how to exist anymore.

I was initially trying to remain as the person that I was. They were a happyish ray of sunshine that was so good at helping people. And they did! People came to them daily to vent, get advice, or just letting them know that they are doing better. And I wasn’t doing great mentally then, but I was making improvements!

It has been over a year since we went into lockdown.

And you know, there have been good things that came out of the isolation.

I know I am nonbinary! And I was getting closer to dressing how I want!

But I am exhausted.

While I am at a healthy weight now, I have been slipping in and out of my ED habits. My family has also been continuously shitting on me for gaining weight. (if you’re curious, I am 5’4” [~162 cm] at 135 lbs [~61 kg]. I used to be at 100 lbs [45 kg]. And I would continuously dip back in double digits.) So, I have a fear that I’m going tot get bad again and that is just not something that I can handle at the moment.

I also can’t socialize, because holy fuck that shit is terrifying.

Like there are times when I can’t even talk to my family.

My closest friends? One of them messages me daily to make sure I’ve eaten at least one thing (which I agree, very kind, but I will explain why I don’t like it in a bit.) The other I haven’t talked to in months and it is so awkward when we try to talk. All the other people I used to consider close haven’t talked to me in a year, even after I would attempt to reach out to them.

I know that it is partially my fault; I am horrible at messaging and keeping conversations going is one of my weaker points, even in person. Along with that, I have been having depressive episodes more often that I care to keep track of, and I push people away and isolate myself during those times. So I get that it might be difficult to talk to me.

But there are people who I will reach out to, and they read the message and just don’t respond.

Like... I will literally say “hey! It’s been a while, how have you been?” (No response)

A week goes by

“I’m just checking in to make sure you’re doing alright” (left on read)

Another week

“Me and this person wanted to plan a small hang out online! She found this really cool website that we can play games, and we can use discord to chat. Wanna join?” (No response)

And it goes on.

For over seven months.

So if you have an active imagination and are prone to overthinking, you can imagine that my thoughts are “well shit. They just don’t like me and were only friendly bc i was dating him.” (Him being my ex boyfriend; we broke up a month into the quarantine.)

And so that kinda fucked with my anxiety even more.

I don’t blame them for not talking to me. The logical part of me understands that sometimes you just don’t respond, or maybe you forget or just don’t want to. I get that. But the part of me that has been overwhelming is pretty much like, everyone hates you and you’re a burden.

And it’s really hard to open up to the people you are close to when you feel this way.

So we come back to the close friend who checks that I’ve eaten.

He is wonderful, do not get me wrong. We became acquaintances around September 2019, and friends a few months after. At this time, I was dating my ex, who was an acquaintance to the close friend. (We are going to call the close friend Edward from here on out.)

At that time, I was struggling with my body image and my eating disorder. (Every year I go through a relapse and recovery, it fucking sucks and sometimes the relapse take over almost the whole year, but not the point right now.) One of his first memories of me is me having a panic attack because I ate a sandwich.

So during this pandemic, Edward has been messaging me to make sure I’m eating, because he doesn’t want me to get really bad again. Which is nice!

Except he doesn’t really understand mental illness.

He has been trying! Do not get me wrong, he does try. But his way of going about talking to me during a depressive episode is “Just don’t let it get to you” And “Be happy” and my favorite, “I don’t get why it’s so bad.”

😃🤡

Along with that, he gets incredibly upset when I don’t respond to his messages within like thirty minutes.

Keep in mind, I have been going through many, many depressive episodes and am constantly struggling to get out of bed and keep up with my school work. I have told him this. I have told him that sometimes I just cannot handle checking my messages and participating in conversation.

And a side note, I am in my last year of high school. Which mean I have online learning and in a few months I will be graduating. Which means I have a few classes I need to pass in order to graduate. If you keep up with most high schoolers, we have been getting an absurd amount of work with due dates every fucking day. That plus depression does not go well, and so I am very tired all the time, but since we have actual lectures instead of recordings, I keep my camera on for every single class because the teacher’s get sad if we don’t. And yes, there are classes where it is just me and the teacher with our cameras on. And yes I constantly disassociate during class and stop focusing because I forget to.

So yeah, it is fucking hard to just keep up with that, and socializing isn’t really something my brain sees as important because of the constant negative energy I receive when I do try to talk to people. So I have told him that as of late, it is just difficult to do much besides school, and things that produce any sort of serotonin or dopamine.

And he got upset that talking to him wasn’t making me happy!

Which, it does! Because he is a great friend! But he is so rude about the things involving my mental illnesses! And acts like he understands it better because he is in a psychology class! So in this state, I do not feel as comfortable talking to him since he only wants the ‘happy’ version of me that struggles to eat so that he can ‘fix’ my eating disorder and be able to feel like he did something!

But I continue to try to talk to him, because he is an only child and I am one of his only actual friends. (I really wish I was kidding, but when we became close, he told me that I was the first person to ever actually care about how he’s feeling and how he is actually doing rather than just taking advantage of his presence. He almost cried when I said that I appreciated his existence.)

And I do care about him. Edward is definitely a close friend, and I appreciate that he tries. But lately, he only does it for the validation of knowing he did something good, and it feels like he is just tired of having me around since I can’t bring myself to speak much.

So I have been trying to push myself to be a good friend to him. And I am doing what I can to pretend that I am getting better so that he can be happier. Which is just tiring me out even more.

I feel empty most of the time now, and I am so easily put over the edge. I can hide it pretty well, but it has been getting to the point where I am contemplating self harm again just to feel something.

I don’t remember how to properly do things. I am really just trying to get through every day. But it feels like I am headed straight for doom and I am so tired of it and I just want to leave!

Which in a few months, technically I will. I hope to go out of state for college (to get as far as I possibly can from all of this shit) but as I apply to more scholarships, I want to scream and cry because I have no clue how I am going to pay for college because my parents make too much money and my mother spends it all on herself so I am stressed out. I didn’t do enough extracurriculars, and I have been rejected from so many scholarships that it’ s starting to look like I might need to stay here, and I can’t do that. I just can’t.

So I have been crying and trying to escape from this shit, and I feel like at some point I might just constantly think that nothing is real and none of this shit matters, because that is on my mind more and more.

But hey! I have been reading, writing, gaming, watching anime and drawing to cope so that shit exists (even though it’s all shit so I won’t post it) and I’m making improvements with that so that is something?

I don’t fucking know lol.

I am just tired, and this was a rant. I don’t fucking care. Hope you have a good day!

[mimi-cee-hq]

Notice me, Y/n-senpai - Yamaguchi x Reader

So this is the first time I’ve done a match-up. I offered to do one because I thought it’d be fun. I don’t know how I thought of this so quickly though. I guess when inspiration comes… I have a bit of a writer’s block with Accidental Confession at the moment. I hope you like how I characterized an anime version of you in my style of writing. I went a bit more with your empathy trait and exaggerated some other things too.

Request from @haikoo​:

well physically i would say im tall (5'9) and im just the average body. my hair is blonde and i have light brown eyes also i wear glasses bc im literally blind. i’m usually very rational and logical, and im very observant which makes me look very serious and maybe even rude bc of my facial expressions but im actually very energetic, nice and easy to talk to. im always making people laugh despite all my sarcasm and humor and i enjoy making new friends. i used to play volleyball (where i put my observation skills to use) but i dont anymore bc of an injury. i love being organized even tho sometimes i don’t follow my own rules, and im definitely a perfectionist which makes me usually overwork myself. lastly, im very enpathetic.

Summary:

Y/n helps a certain player get more noticed by his coach, not knowing how embarrassed she’ll be when he uses her tactic back at her. A funny and cute “notice me, senpai” match up one-shot where y/n is the senpai.

Preview:

“It’s fine,” Y/n said with a laugh, “You don’t have to do it. I mean, I think it would be hilarious, but if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I’ll do it,” he replied.

“What?” Y/n said. It caught her off-guard since she was not expecting that.

“I’ll do it,” he said again, with the same determined face that she had noticed during his matches. “I’ve always admired people with the confidence to do something like that, so I’ll force myself to do it.”

Notice me, Y/n-senpai! - Yamaguchi x Reader

AO3 link if you want to read there instead

Words: 3,004

Tanaka and Nishinoya were energetically chatting in their classroom - things like Kiyoko-senpai as well as their volleyball team. Y/n wasn’t surprised that school work wasn’t one of those topics though.

“I don’t know how your team will cope now,” Y/n commented to the two of them. “Two of your best receivers graduated.” Y/n had known about their team because she was at the game against Shiratorizawa, cheering in the stands. Her friend had suggested to her that she should go. She had thought Y/n’s energetic personality would be perfect for the job. Y/n definitely went, especially since she loved volleyball.

“Wait a moment,” said Tanaka with a glint in his eye. “Do you know what’s the difference between a serve receive and a dig?”

“Of course,” Y/n answered. “You have to bump the ball for both, but one is from a serve and the other is from a spike.”

Nishinoya’s eyes lit up, as if catching onto why Tanaka was asking. “Do you know what a free or chance ball is?”

“Yeah,” Y/n said like it was obvious. “It’s when the opponents aren’t able to attack so they just lob the ball back over the net.” The two gave each other a look while Y/n was just confused. “I don’t get it. You two already know that I-”

Tanaka and Nishinoya suddenly picked up Y/n, all 5’ 9" of her, and carried her to a second year class. “What are you doing?!” she yelled out at them. She couldn’t believe that the 5’ 3" short libero was one of the guys carrying her.

Y/n suddenly found herself in front of Yachi. She stared at her for a moment, noting that she was really short. She looked at her more closely and figured that she was almost a foot taller than her. She wondered if she had always had a kouhai this cute in her school.

“S-sorry!” apologized Yachi to her. “I- I’m really bad at being a manager.”

Y/n got confused as to why she would apologize to her for something like that. Apparently, Y/n missed Tanaka’s explanation on how Yachi needed help with recording statistics for the team.

“Could you stop making that face?” asked Tsukishima. “You’re scaring Yachi.”

When Y/n realized that she was staring at Yachi a little too intently, she said, “Oh sorry!” She started to say, “I’m actually really friendly! I just-.” She stopped, initially wanting to explain that she only looked rude or scary when she was thinking about something, but she wished that she didn’t have to explain it every time. “Never mind.”

Later, Tanaka and Nishinoya introduced Y/n to the team as they waited for their opponents to arrive for a practice match.

“Is she Tsukishima’s sister?” asked Hinata.

“Yes,” Tsukishima sarcastically replied. “All girls with blond hair, brown eyes and glasses are my sisters.”

“Really?” said Hinata with sparkles in his eyes as he looked at Y/n.

“No,” Tsukishima answered as Yamaguchi snickered at him.

As the teams warmed up before the game, Y/n sat at the bench beside Yachi. She analyzed the players’ different forms and strengths as they practised their serves.

“What’s with her face?” Kageyama commented.

“She looks like she’s planning a murder,” added Tsukishima.

“Maybe because I am,” Y/n said sarcastically.

Tanaka stepped in to defend her and said, “You shouldn’t be talking about a girl’s face like that!” Tsukishima commented that Tanaka probably got offended because he looked like that pretty often. But then he looked away when Tanaka glared at him as if he was going to kill him. Y/n laughed at how Tanaka looked and decided that she didn’t have a favourable impression of either Tsukishima or Kageyama.

When the game started, Y/n took a glance at the players on the sidelines, cheering for their team. She recognized a few of them, especially their pinch server. She remembered when she was on the sidelines too and sympathized with them.

“Yachi,” Y/n asked, “do you have footage of your other matches?” Yachi later gave them to her, not realizing what Y/n was about to get into.

Y/n decided to binge watch all of their matches that night and as a result, she was sleepy the next day. It wasn’t like she hadn’t watched some of their matches before. She had made sure to watch their tournament games whenever they were on TV. She just wanted to get a second look of their games with the ability to pause in between plays. Y/n started by recording the stats for each game by counting every spike, block and dig per person, but it was too much work and it felt useless, so she just started to write her own notes based on her observations. So at their practice, a sleepy Y/n told each player on the team what they could improve on.

“How did you analyze so much?” Tanaka and Nishinoya asked with their jaws dropped.

“Oh, I actually have more,” Y/n grinned as she showed the rest of her notes. Inside an organized notebook, she had a page worth of content for each player. She had written their name, profile, strengths and weaknesses, and even detailed steps on things they could do to improve.

Tsukishima looked at her like he wanted to say a sarcastic comment, but he couldn’t because her notes were too accurate.

“I think you just don’t like that she pointed out your weaknesses,” Yamaguchi laughed at him. He looked at Y/n with a smile. “I’m surprised I’m in there too, especially since I’m not a starting player.”

“Of course I didn’t overlook you!” she said. “You’re the ones who want to improve the most!”

She could see that Yamaguchi really appreciated it. She had also written down their goals that she had gotten from Yachi, so she knew that Yamaguchi wanted to be a starting player and to have a bigger presence on the court.

“By the way, you look really tired,” noted Yamaguchi. As if he noticed something about her, he asked, “When did you start making these notes?”

“Last night.”

“What?!” he freaked out at the fact that she stayed up late just to help their team.

“Oh, this kind of happens often because I’m kind of a perfectionist and I can get carried away with things,” she told him. “But don’t worry! I’m used to this!”

Yamaguchi just sweatdropped at her, “Of course you’ll make people worried about you. You’re making me worried right now.”

Over the next month or two, Y/n continued to watch some of their practices and assisted Yachi and the coach whenever she could. So when they didn’t make it to the nationals the next time around, it pained her to see them lose their game, knowing how hard they had worked. She noticed that Yamaguchi was also trying to figure out a way for them to get over their loss and to encourage them to keep trying harder. Y/n wanted to help as well, but instead, she thought of a silly idea, which may or may not help.

She approached Yamaguchi one day, telling him that she had an idea that would cheer up the team and would also get him noticed by the coach. If he did it, you could say that he’d have a bigger presence on the court without even trying. So when she told him her idea, he freaked out, which she expected.

“It’s fine,” Y/n said with a laugh, “You don’t have to do it. I mean, I think it would be hilarious, but if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I’ll do it,” he replied.

“What?” Y/n said. It caught her off-guard since she was not expecting that.

“I’ll do it,” he said again, with the same determined face that she had noticed during his matches. “I’ve always admired people with the confidence to do something like that, so I’ll force myself to do it.”

For some reason, his determination had caught her eye again. But the next day, you could say that Yamaguchi started to chicken out.

“Where did all that determination from yesterday go?!” asked Y/n as she tugged on Yamaguchi’s arm to pull him into the second gymnasium. “Do you know what I had to do to get this costume for you? I have to do my brother’s chores for a week now!”

“I didn’t think I’d look like this!” Yamaguchi yelled back.

They both froze when they saw Tsukishima walking along the path between the school and the gym. He also froze when he saw Yamaguchi. Y/n could see the drops of sweat on Tsukishima’s head forming. He then proceeded to the gym as if he didn’t see anything.

“Tsukkiii! Help me!” cried out Yamaguchi.

“What kind of guy ditches his best friend like that?!” Y/n yelled after him.

But of course he would be embarrassed by Yamaguchi at that moment. He was wearing a chicken costume. But that wasn’t all. He wore a t-shirt over it that said, “I’m going to be a starting player. So if you become a chicken, I’ll take your position!”

“BAHAHAHAHA!” Tanaka and Nishinoya both laughed at him after Y/n finally got him inside. Yamaguchi placed a hand on the wall, forgetting why he did this in the first place.

“Well, this would definitely get me noticed,” said Yamaguchi. “But this won’t improve my skills.”

“You should do both,” Y/n grinned at him. “Get the coach’s attention while you improve on your skills.”

“I guess we can’t let ourselves get too discouraged about the preliminaries now when we have to worry about Yamaguchi taking our position from us,” said Tanaka with a grin.

“Well, he could take a middle blocker or a wing spiker position,” said Kageyama. “But it’s not like he could be a setter.”

“Who knows,” said Y/n. “With how hard he works, it’s not impossible.” Yamaguchi gave her a look as if she were crazy.

Yamaguchi sighed, “I still can’t believe I wore this.”

Y/n just smirked at him. “You know, I thought it was actually really cool that you were determined to do this in the first place.” Yamaguchi blushed at her comment. “But it seems like you have a daily limit of confidence,” she laughed.

*****

Yamaguchi got to know Y/n better over the months at school and practice. Since she liked making new friends, she somehow kept pulling him into her antics. She told him that she was surprised that he could keep up with her energetic personality. He figured that someone had to take care of her.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Yamaguchi. “Do you have any suggestions on how I can spike harder?”

Y/n went on to explain things like proper spiking form and that he would need to twist his whole body to get strength from all of his muscles. “I’d show you, but I injured my shoulder.”

“What?!” exclaimed Yamaguchi as he panicked. He felt so bad that he didn’t even notice it these past few months. “Ugh… I feel like a horrible friend.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I brought it up before,” said Y/n. She continued to explain that she kept practising her spiking swing at home, which overworked the tendons in her shoulder. So during an actual game, she had spiked the ball and then she had felt a sharp pain, which ran from her shoulder and down her back. But since they had been so close to winning, she had pushed through the pain.

After learning this, Yamaguchi did some research on muscle pain. He bought all of these medical supplies for Y/n. But then later, Y/n told him that he didn’t need to because she was already working with a physiotherapist. Yamaguchi couldn’t believe that he did all that research for nothing, but she still appreciated the effort.

One day, Yamaguchi walked down the school hallway with Tsukishima. When he peaked into Y/n’s classroom, he noticed that Y/n was chatting with Tanaka and Nishinoya. He sighed, commenting that he wished he was a year older. “She’s only a year older,” replied Tsukishima. “I don’t get why the whole senpai/ kouhai thing matters so much to people.”

Yamaguchi flinched in shock that Tsukishima knew that he was talking about. But then again, he knew that Tsukishima was pretty perceptive, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. “I just don’t know how I can get her to notice me.”

“What do you mean?” snickered Tsukishima. “She introduced a perfect method to you.”

*****

Y/n walked into the gym, expecting a regular practice, but when she saw Yamaguchi, her whole face turned red and she yelled out, “What the heck is that?!” He was wearing a custom-made t-shirt with Y/n’s face on it, saying, “Y/n-senpai is really cool!” Yamaguchi struggled to give an answer right there, especially with his teammates laughing their butts off. So Y/n dragged him out of the gym and asked him what was going on.

“I- I just wanted you to notice me, Y/n-senpai,” said Yamaguchi timidly.

“What do you mean? You’re my friend!” she replied.

“I mean as a potential boyfriend. B- But I don’t expect you to like me back right now,” he said as he started to get flustered. “I figured that I’d get you to notice me while I worked on getting you to like me.”

Y/n blushed at his direct confession. She thought it sounded familiar, but then she realized that was the same advice she had given him to get the coach’s attention. She giggled at Yamaguchi for using her tactic, but she was suddenly conscious of how close his face was to hers. He was only about a couple of inches taller than her so she got a good view of his freckles.

“Y- You don’t have to do use that t-shirt to get my attention!” Y/n told him. “Do you think I’m blind or something?” When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Okay, I’m basically blind without my glasses, but you don’t have to wear a t-shirt with my face on it.” She then turned her head away from him and muttered, “Besides, I had already noticed you.”

When Y/n had been in the stands at the Shiratorizawa game, she had noticed Yamaguchi freaking out before their big match. They had needed to win three matches against the powerhouse school. She had known that they still had a chance since they did somehow make it to the finals.

She had been surprised when Yamaguchi was subbed in. When she had realized that he had been there as a pinch server, she had found it interesting because she had never had a pinch server on her team before. When he had been subbed back out, she had thought it must have sucked to only be able to play for one rotation per set. He must have wanted to be able to play even longer.

Y/n had thought it was really cool anyway because she saw he was still a very valuable player as a pinch server. He had to ability to turn the game around with how good his serves were. She had later wondered what happened to the nervous boy she saw earlier. During his serve, he had looked a lot cooler and more confident.

When she had found out that she could have an opportunity to actually help the team, of course she had gotten too carried away. She had wondered why she was working so hard, but had just brushed it off, thinking that it was her perfectionist side coming out again. When she had seen how much Yamaguchi appreciated her work, she had wanted to help him even more. She didn’t know when her empathy turned into actually having a crush on him.

“I like you too,” she said with a blush.

“What? Really?” Yamaguchi was shocked.

“Why do you think I worked so hard on analyzing the team’s matches? I was especially attentive when I was writing stuff for you.” Y/n said with a blush. “I even did my brother’s chores for a week for you to get that chicken costume.” Yamaguchi chuckled at that memory with her. “So you don’t have to wear that embarrassing t-shirt anymore,” she added.

“Oh, okay,” he replied with a smile.

When he suddenly started to take off his shirt, Y/n panicked and said, “I didn’t mean that you should take it off now, you idiot!” Y/n smacked the back of Yamaguchi’s head. “Do you think you’re Tanaka or something?”

At the next tournament, Yamaguchi stood on the court, shaking like a leaf as he and the rest of the starting players showed their jersey numbers to the referee. From the second floor, Y/n noticed how nervous he was and energetically called out to him. “Yamaguchi!” When he looked up, she placed the tips of her hands on her head to form a large heart. Yamaguchi chuckled at her as she continued to hold the heart above her head and added a silly dance. Tsukishima still thought she was annoying while Hinata told him that he should be happy that Y/n helped Yamaguchi relax.

Bonus - (because of the liars headcanons I read)

“So… if you want to be my boyfriend, Tsukishima can’t be your best friend anymore,” said Y/n. When it looked like Yamaguchi was actually considering it, she cut off his train of thought. “Wait! I was just joking!”

Yamaguchi said, “I know and just wanted to scare you.”

“Where did you learn to fake like that,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Our other setter taught me,” he said as he grinned. “He graduated in March.”

“I guess he must be like Tsukishima then because I thought Tsukishima taught you,” she said. Yamaguchi just laughed at how wrong she was.

Author’s Notes

I hope you liked it. I can’t seem to get away from my headcanons from Accidental Confession. lol. Y/n is kind of similar to my side character OC, but not at the same time.

Masterlist