#all the love i did not give my teenage self is now overflowing for them they are so cool and they deserve to feel it

[deneveve-is-lost]

I love weird teenagers so much they deserve so many good things

[venusskissed]

𝐏𝐚𝐜 - 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥

🪽 this pac is self explanatory! I will be telling you why you are beautiful, what makes you you. there is a lot of wonderful things about you and you deserve to know about them. while everyone is beautiful from the outside I will tell you what shines about your soul.

#01 #02 #03

— ౨ৎ : close your eyes and take a deep breath, then choose the pile your eyes landed on. it’s also fine to choose multiple or the one you felt drawn to from the get go either because of intuition or something else. do what best suits you. 💖

🧾ㅤㅤ PLEASE KEEP IN MIND that this is a very general reading as multiple people will read this pile. take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. 🫶🏻

pile 01

⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 the lovers, four of pentacles, ace of wands, kingfisher, deer, tiger

hiii my beautiful pile one!! 🫶🏻 there is so much love inside your heart it’s remarkable. truly, you are wonderful. do you know the saying ‘wolf in sheep clothing’?

you are a sheep in sheep clothing. it’s like the more people find out about you the more sweeter, kinder and precious you become.

you are beautiful because of your heart. the way you love people, your principles, your values, the way you treat other people. you truly are selfless and golden hearted even if you have been through a lot and it’s something that’s hard to change about you if not impossible.

you have an incredibly gentle, loving and kind aura to you. I am also sensing that many people who chose this pile might like to stand up for people, the kind of ones that have a hard time standing up for themselves and speaking up. you like to do it instead of them just so they are safe, protected or they aren’t looked down upon. you truly view everyone as your equal and cannot stand mistreatment. I don’t think any of you expect anything back for it either, you do it because you can and because you want to help people.

I don’t think it’s in a people pleasing way either. If someone makes a mistake you will willingly call them out. explaining to them what they did wrong and why without belittling them or making them feel like they are less because of it or incapable of improving or overcoming their problem. in your eyes no one is entirely bad, and no one is entirely good. everyone is just a human. so you are a very fair person. if ___ blank was wrong you will defend them, but won’t deny that they also made a mistake. all while seeing that it doesn’t mean they deserved to be wronged. so you see all sides of a situation rather than viewing the world in black and white colours.

you might also be very giving. as in donating, helping friends out in though times, helping people when they are confused (perhaps even with directions at times?), giving your old clothes away, not minding if someone eats your food (snacks) etc. you seem to be very selfless and giving.

now I see a lot of you guys might not think so and feel as if this pile doesn’t describe you well and I just want to say that it’s true even if you have a rough/dry sense of humour, curse a lot, watch vulgar things etc.. regardless of how you view yourself I can see that your heart is overflowing with love and people think very highly of you exactly because of the way you behave around them, even if it’s subconscious actions.

a butterfly can’t see it’s wings, you know?

keythings: kind, gentle, soft, sweet, ‘I am just a teenage dirt bag baby’, angelic, soft voice, many of you could have a really beautiful laugh 🫶🏻, mermaids, electric guitar, love shot, watergun, 1D - WMUB

🦢 that is all my beautiful pile one! thank you for your precious time, I hope you enjoyed this PAC! 🫶🏻 please keep in mind that this is a reading on current energies, these can change anytime! I am sorry for any spelling mistakes as english isn’t my first language and I haven’t proof read yet! 💖

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

pile 02

⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 nine of pentacles, the empress, the tower, panda, guinea pig, hyena

hiiii my beautiful pile two!!! 🫶🏻 how are you? I want to say please take your time to rest, a lot of you in this pile might force yourselves to go through hardships when you are already going through enough to destroy a soul. maybe for the sake of pride.

of course, that doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful; because you are. you are wonderful. you have a very classy, elegant, sure of yourself and lovely vibe to you. your attitude could be what draws people in, what makes people want to be like you. your logic, your confidence and the way you hold yourself up.

do you guys know jennie kim or song jia? you have that kind of vibe to you. at least, they are who you remind me of. someone beautiful in and out. you might not be everyone’s idea of fair and square or what people view as ‘good’ but you have your own set of principles, rules that you keep to and live by. you might also be someone misunderstood.

a lot of people could look down on you because of your lifestyle, way of handling situations or they think you are nothing more than a pretty face. but that is not true, you are smart, capable, understanding, kind and wonderful. a lot of these also seem to be cover up, lies about their ‘reason’ of disliking you with the real motive behind it being jealousy.

I am going to be really honest here pile two, you have so many wonderful things going on for you that people don’t even know what to be jealous of first, turning their frustration into anger.

you are beautiful, content with yourself, talented, successful (either emotionally or financially) and the cherry on top being you have a wonderful personality too. people expect you to be a mean girl/boy/person but you are simply not. you get along well with people and barely have any judgement in your bones if any.

your beauty lays within the way you carry yourself even in the saddest moments in life. it’s easy to be beautiful if you are happy but you? you are ethereal even when the world crumbles. both in and out.

you care for people the way you wish to be cared for. you listen to them, hear them without judgment and comfort them wherever you can, however you are able to. you are there to be a good force in people’s life because you know what it’s like to have no support. instead of becoming mean and closed off because of your experiences you are kind, gentle and emotionally intelligent.

a real diamond in the rough.

keythings: ‘a lot of people wish to be like you’, dolly, bratz, those aesthetic pictures of angels crying, designer, crying in a white dress (party dress, not wedding one), cold, red/pink painted nails, parties?, lighter with stickers/gems on it

you might often have headaches/migraines so I would like to kindly remind you to look after yourself sweetheart. 🩷

🦢 that is all my beautiful pile two! thank you for your precious time, I hope you enjoyed this PAC! 🫶🏻 please keep in mind that this is a reading on current energies, these can change anytime! I am sorry for any spelling mistakes as english isn’t my first language and I haven’t proof read yet! 💖

︶֪︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶ིྀ︶︶֪︶︶︶֪︶︶֪︶︶֪︶

pile 03

⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀⠀💭 ten of wands, five of pentacles, king of wands, lady bird, guinea pig, snake

hey my beautiful pile three 🫶🏻 alright, many people, if not all who chose this pile like to express themselves a lot. say their opinion even if they know no one in the room agrees, stand up for themselves and others with anger if they have been wronged, let out all the emotions you feel, all at once.

this is a very emotional pile, even if you might not think so. in a melancholic, angry, stubborn, sentimental way.

while you struggle to understand what’s beautiful about that a lot of people seem to adore you for your ability to express yourself freely, to let all of your thoughts out. your personality is really strong and yet you never loose yourself. a lot of people seem to adore you for that, they look at you as an angel. no, not fallen one, they just adore your raw power. you have this feeling of fearlessness to you. ‘so what?’ attitude.

not a lot of people are able to be this way, what you have is truly unique.

do you have a darker aesthetic such as emo, cyberpunk, gothic or anything of the sort? of course not everyone in this pile will have that, but I can see a lot of people adoring your aesthetic if you do. (if you are gyaruu a lot of people could adore that as well.)

you have this ethereal kind of beauty to you. it feels realistic yet dreamy even though there are rough parts of your personality or perhaps life. you don’t hide yourself, you fully show who you are freely without being apologetic to anybody. if people don’t like it that’s their problem, it’s what life gave so it’s what they get.

I can also see that you never back down when you are fighting for something or if you are in an argument. you are also not focused on winning, you have a very clear way of arguing? you focus on what the other one is doing, their words and what’s going on inside their head. you are able to see through people like it’s nothing. you are highly intelligent and people adore that a lot about you. not in a jealous kind of way, just pure adoration and love towards you. (especially those of you who have little siblings or best friends younger than you)

your guides said, and I am quoting it exactly, ‘people’s person but not afraid to call bastard’s out’.

in all honesty your beauty is your strong personality, you are a badass. just the way you are, behave and the thoughts you have are enough to make you beautiful. you are so worthy of love because you have so much love. you might not think so, but anger can’t exist without love or respect.

for some of you some people also fear how much they like you, not because there is anything wrong with you but because they are scared they aren’t good enough for you. you have the effect that makes people want to better themselves.

keythings: ‘this is my last resort’, morticia addams, vampires & bats, ‘I don’t give a fuck’, headphones, black, red lipstick, sunny side up?, black sheep/not fitting in, groans, eye rolls, shien, sneeze (?), ‘good job’, ‘bye bitch’, tiktok

🦢 that is all my beautiful pile three! thank you for your precious time, I hope you enjoyed this PAC! 🫶🏻 please keep in mind that this is a reading on current energies, these can change anytime! I am sorry for any spelling mistakes as english isn’t my first language and I haven’t proof read yet! 💖

[mavrintarou]

Wipe Your Eyes [7- end]

Thank you for your patience and support, and thank you for hanging on to this ship. Here is the last part of Wipe Your Eyes, I hope you all enjoy.

Warning: heart warming fluff and some steamy pregnancy sex

Sixth part

Y/n watched in silence as Kiyoomi folded and hung the newly washed baby outfits their baby boy received during the baby shower. Kiyoomi insists on taking charge of it, leaving her to sit idly in the comfortable glider watching while rubbing her belly.

At almost eight months, they were both as ready as they could be for the arrival of their little one.

Y/n observed her husband and noticed how his curls had grown past his ears and spiraled in various directions, giving him a captivating rockstar vibe. Kiyoomi had always been incredibly handsome and sexy in her eyes, but something about him lately made her adore her husband more than ever. 

A few weeks ago, she had walked past him in the living room, engrossed in the second book of Dad’s Guide to Pregnancy. Y/n suddenly halted in her tracks, eyes narrowed as she noticed something different about him; when she discovered it, her eyes widened. “When did… you get glasses?”

“I went to the eye doctor the other day, and they said my vision has slightly changed and prescribed me some glasses.”

Y/n’s heart pounded against her chest, feeling her teenage crush fantasy come true seeing Kiyoomi wearing black square-rim glasses that added an extra touch of sophistication to his already captivating presence. His curls add an extra touch to his new glasses.

She blamed the pregnancy hormones that made her pounce on him.

Kiyoomi chuckled, after he read in the book that a pregnant woman’s libido increases during pregnancy, he was prepared and ready to serve. He found her most adorable when she needed him but was too embarrassed to ask but he picked up on her cues. She would look at him with a longing gaze and blush profusely as if she just had a naughty image of him in her mind.

He patted his thigh, setting his book aside, “come here.” With just a month remaining until their little one arrived, Kiyoomi found her lovely waddling over. She used to be shy sitting on his lap but now, she would climb and straddle his lap.

His hand rubbed her bulging belly and immediately he felt a movement from within. Kiyoomi’s excitement is becoming increasingly difficult to suppress; it has evolved into a daily ritual for him to tenderly stroke and converse with his unborn child, both in the morning and at night. The sheer joy and anticipation coursing through him were poised to overflow as the countdown to their due date drew nearer.

Kiyoomi slid his hands underneath her shirt and pulled it off. Y/n had become self-conscious of the stretch marks and discolored skin of her belly but he was always assuring to kiss those thoughts away. His fingers quickly unclasped the clips of her bra, freeing her engorged breasts that had been showing signs of leaking.

He tugged his shirt off, tossing it along with her clothing, he absolutely loved being skin to skin, having her belly pressed against his front side.

“I need you now, Omi,” she whispered breathlessly and needy, rocking her hips against his growing bulge. She didn’t like how she would have random spurts of moments where she was horny and needed him right there and then.

“Yes, love,” he cooed, shifting her onto her back on the couch. They have been friskier lately, Kiyoomi has been making love to her almost anywhere and everywhere. In the shower, in the kitchen, and in the bathroom. Once, they almost made love in his car until they were interrupted by the car beside them.

Kiyoomi tugs off her bottom sleepwear pants, dropping them on the ground. His fingers grazed her soaked folds and groaned, “you’re so wet already…”

“For you, just for you,” she murmured, “please…” she widened her legs.

His fingers slipped easily inside of her and curled against her tight walls before he pumps them in and out of her pussy. “You’re becoming greedy, three fingers aren’t enough for you now.” His thumb pressed and circled her clit. Her walls soon squeezed his three fingers and he chuckled, he wants her pussy to squeeze his cock instead.

His joggers are tugged low enough to free his cock before he gripped one of her legs and aligned himself and thrust inside. His hips rocked slowly, intentionally driving her mad until she begged him.

“Faster, Omi… faster.”

Kiyoomi enjoyed having the upper hand at the moment since she was limited to positions with her large belly. The doctor suggested only positions that would not strain her or the baby, which meant that he could only make love to his wife from behind or on her back. Recently, Y/n has been complaining about being on her back so he has been finding ways to satisfy her from behind. She was so sensitive that even a shift of angle or lifting one leg had her trembling at his mercy. His hand caressed her belly, a sense of pride surging through him as he recalled the last ultrasound appointment, the nurse announced their baby was most likely going to be tall when they did a quick estimate of his size.

He slipped his cock out and tugged her upright, “turn around and hold onto the couch then.” He shifted behind her and slipped himself back inside of her. He fastened his thrusts, pounding into her with more speed and depth.

“Omi,” Y/n moaned his name repeatedly, “I’m – I’m so close….”

“Wait for me,” he whispered hoarsely. He hovers over her, rutting into her as he reaches to grope her breasts, tweaking her perky nipples. “Wait for me,” he repeated again.

“Omi – Omi… oh Omi,” she chanted as her orgasm erupted.

Kiyoomi thrust one final time, jerking with each spurt of his ejaculation. He pulled out and reached for a napkin to catch the spilled seed. After wiping her down, she collapsed against the couch. He hovered over her before kissing her, “are you satisfied, Mrs. Sakusa?”

She cupped his face, kissing him a little bit longer. “Are you?” she reached and wrapped her hand around his semi-hard cock. At her touch, he felt a jolt within him, and his cock began to harden. “Are you satisfied, Mr. Sakusa?” Her eyes linger on him and she smiles, “I love the glasses on you.”

.

Kiyoomi continued to go to therapy until it was appropriate for the both of them to go to one session. Dr. Kitagowa coached and approached them on how to have healthy communication that meets each other’s needs, thoughts, beliefs, and feelings.

Each time they returned home, Kiyoomi and Y/n would have a discussion and address their past mistakes and how they would approach the situation with what they learned.

Their marriage is steadily getting better with each passing day. Ultimately, they both admitted that they wanted their marriage to work for their baby and each other.

“I can’t live without you,” Kiyoomi whispered one night. “The thoughts scare me and I don’t even want to know.”

Y/n snuggled closer into his embrace, “me too, Kiyoomi. Me too.” It was a few minutes of silence before she called his name, he hummed quietly and she pulled away to lift herself onto her elbow. “I have something to tell you.” His brows furrowed and she reached to smooth it, “it is nothing bad, but I initially reached out to Genesis Publishing to decline their offer because I didn’t want to leave you or Japan. No matter how great the compensation was, it didn’t outweigh the importance of staying here with you. However, they’ve now come back with an alternative proposal: I can continue to stay in Japan, with the only requirement being that I visit the corporate office quarterly for a week's stay. What are your thoughts? Do you think I should accept this revised offer?”

Kiyoomi propped himself up on his elbow, and she could discern the multitude of questions swirling within his mind, leaving him uncertain about where to begin.

“Go ahead, ask me anything,” she assured, placing a hand against his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone.

His eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them again, “I’m still processing what you just said but I feel relieved about their new proposal.” He reached to rest a hand on her belly, “if it is something you want, you should take it. I’ll support your decision regardless of what you decide.” He gazed into her eyes before promising, “but if you accept, you will just have to take baby and me with you because… we’re a family.”

Y/n giggled and leaned to kiss him, “yes, we’re a family and yes, you two will come with me because a week without you two will be too long.”

.

Kiyoomi cherished every aspect of Y/n’s pregnant body, appreciating its beauty and the transformative journey it represented. In what felt like the blink of an eye, her body underwent remarkable changes, with the roundness of her belly expanding seemingly overnight. 

Kiyoomi made an effort every night to rub lotion around her expanding belly and body in general. Though he tried to conceal his laughter, he found her extremely adorable when she struggled to reach her toes or below her knees.

Having reached a new level of patience as a husband to a pregnant wife, Kiyoomi faced a situation where Y/n was taking longer than expected to get ready for her birthing class. Taking a deep breath, he called out to her from the living room in a gentle tone, “is everything okay?”

Instead of her usual “yes,” Kiyoomi was taken aback as he heard Y/n’s quiet voice utter, “no.”

He found her lying on her back, her legs hanging off the edge of the bed with both her sneakers on but shoelaces undone. She looked up at him with tears flowing down her cheeks and a pout on her lips. “I… I can’t tie my shoes.”

Kiyoomi’s lips trembled as he tried to contain his laughter. He stepped forward and knelt on a knee, taking one ankle at a time and setting it on his lap as he tied her shoelace. “I’m here for you, Y/n. I’ll tie your shoes for you – you just need to ask, okay?” He reached up to wipe her tears away.

“Okay,” she answered meekly.

.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, tightening his arm around her belly. “You’ve been moving more than usual.”

Because of Kiyoomi’s extreme sensitivity to sleep, feeling every movement or noise, Y/n had tried her hardest to not shift so much while being his arm but she was not able to find a comfortable position.

Now that he was awake, she shuffled until she faced him, their bellies pressed up against each other.

“Ask your son that, he’s active at this time.” To make her point valid, the baby kicked or punched right into Kiyoomi’s guts making him flinch. “Apparently he thinks it’s play time.”

Chuckling Kiyoomi reached and turned on his night lamp and rubbed Y/n’s naked belly, “hey you,” he earned another movement, “why are you up this early?”

“I think he’s said he’s up because daddy forgot to give him a belly rub with lotion.”

Kiyoomi raised a brow before realizing he did indeed forget his nightly routine. “Well then,” he reached for the bottle of lotion and squeezed some on his hands before rubbing it all around her belly. He leaned down and murmured, “daddy is sorry he forgot.”

.

Y/n has been watching her husband for the past hour sitting in the glider in the corner of the hospital room rocking his daughter against his chest. His shirt is off as he shares a skin-to-skin intimate bond with her.

“I can’t believe, he is a girl.” Y/n burst out giggling.

Almost seven hours ago, she gave birth to their son who came out as a girl.

She just remembered that Kiyoomi did not dare watch the birthing process, especially after the classes they took, he begged and apologized to her in advance that he did not have the heart to be down south when the time came. He stayed up north with her the entire time, holding her hand and being her biggest supporter.

“Congratulations!” The midwife announced holding the screaming infant. “He is…” she paused, “a… girl?”

Y/n and Kiyoomi exchanged a shocked expression that mirrored each other perfectly.

“Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me,” Kiyoomi answered pressing a light kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. She was so tiny in his arms.

 Y/n had a deep suspicion that Kiyoomi had desired a daughter in secret, yet he was equally content with their son during the gender reveal. She could observe how his entire world transformed as he gazed at their daughter with the same adoration he reserved for her.

.

Y/n did not find her husband or daughter in their usual spot on the couch and checked her nursery, also finding it empty.

She slowly opened the door to their bedroom and exhaled softly seeing them both sleeping on the large bed.

Kiyoka, now nine months old, had been successfully transitioned to her own room a few weeks ago. Y/n had anticipated it would be challenging for her to sleep without their daughter, given the months they spent sharing a room. Surprisingly, Y/n took it well, but Kiyoomi found the transition difficult. It was no surprise, as Kiyoka used to sleep on Kiyoomi’s side of the bed when she was in the same room, making it easier for him to tend to her during the night.

Though he does not voice it, Y/n was aware of him getting up almost every hour in the night to check on his daughter before coming back to bed and pulling Y/n close.

“She’s fine, we have a baby monitor, remember?”

“Just want to make sure she’s not cold,” he mumbles, “what if she misses us?”

Y/n groan, “Omi, she’ll be fine. We’ll go get her when she wakes up.”

Every morning, Y/n is woken up by her daughter and husband, “good morning mommy!”

Y/n changes her clothes and gently crawls into bed. Kiyoomi opens one eye and quietly motions for Y/n to come closer so he can wrap his arm around her. “You’re back?”

“Hmm, I missed you two,” she answered, pressing a faint kiss on her daughter’s curls and a kiss on his lips.

Kiyoka inherited her father’s curls, the moment she was delivered and had her first bath, her mop of hair was in different directions, just like her father’s in the morning after a night shower.

“We missed you too,” he murmured, “we had an eventful day.”

“Oh, how so?”

“Kiyo, had a poopy diaper explosion today.” Y/n’s eyes widen, she’s heard of horrific stories but has yet to experience an episode, and the one time, it happens without her there. Even though Kiyoomi handles Kiyoka’s poopy diapers like a pro, she can truly tell how he felt deep down.

As a joke, Kiyoomi’s friends, Atsumu, Kotaro, and Hinata got him a hazard suit as a gift during the baby shower. It is still in its original packaging in the closet. “I just threw her entire outfit away,” he paused, “and her toys… and the entire playpen.”

“Kiyoomi!”

.

Kiyoomi’s fists are in the air as he successfully earns the winning point for the team. He turned around and looked at the crowd, instantly spotting his wife and daughter cheering for him.

It’s the radiance and pride beaming from his wife’s face that fuels him every day. As for their nearly one-year-old daughter, she appears oblivious amidst the jubilant clapping and cheering from everyone celebrating the MSBY Black Jackals’ victory.

“Daddy Kiyoomi, where are you?”

He pushed through the crowd, excusing himself as he could spot the curly mop head of his daughter.

She is the first to spot her daddy and excitedly reaches for him when he is close enough. Plucking her out of her mother’s arms, Kiyoomi smothers her with kisses.

“Good job, Omi,” Y/n congratulated, pushing herself onto her tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips. “You deserve a reward later.”

Kiyoomi hums in agreement and affectionately drapes an arm around her shoulder, “I look forward to it,” he replies.

EXTRA:

Kiyoka ran around, laughing her heart out chasing the other toddlers her age.

“He so cute,” the mom beside Y/n commented, Y/n tilted her head with a genuinely confused raised brow. “Your son,” the mom quickly added, she pointed to the child Kiyoka was playing with. “That’s my daughter, Haruka.”

Y/n cast a glance at the two children, realizing that the other mom had mistaken Kiyoka for a boy. It was an understandable mistake given that Kiyoka was dressed in a matching track outfit and sneakers, which emphasized her sporty appearance more than her gender.

From infancy to her first year, Kiyoka’s hair growth had slowed down, resulting in a bob of curls that resembled her father’s current hairstyle. There was no denying that she was a splitting image of Kiyoomi, except for the absence of his two beauty marks. He even got her matching masks that she would wear when they ventured out in public together.

Y/n smiled, containing her giggles. “That’s actually my daughter, we were told she was a boy but… that wasn’t the case when she came out. She received a ton of clothes at her baby shower and I’m putting them to use.”

Later that night after Kiyoomi tucked his daughter to bed, Y/n told him about their day at the playground.

“We should consider updating her wardrobe,” Kiyoomi suggested. He had been the sole buyer of girl’s clothing for their daughter, but as soon as she learned to express her preferences for outfits, the dresses he had purchased began to accumulate, untouched in her closet, as she favored different attire instead.

Y/n was aware that he felt disheartened because their daughter showed no interest in wearing the clothing items he had bought for her. From the frilly dress to the pink and purple unicorn t-shirt, Kiyoka preferred to wear the black t-shirt like her dad’s, the one with the same “MSBY BLACK JACKALS” lettering. Y/n found herself having to buy more of those toddler shirts because her daughter insisted on wearing the same one every single day.

“Omi, love,” Y/n couldn’t contain her chuckle, she leaned to kiss the pout away. “You have to realize how much she adores you. Just look at the way she gazes at you; she wants to be just like you.”

Most days, Y/n’s heart swells up with affection when she witnesses their daughter imitating her father. There was a particular instance when Y/n and Kiyoka brought lunch to Kiyoomi’s practice. As he observed his teammates on the court, Kiyoka stood by her daddy, mirroring his posture with arms crossed and legs spread apart.

Y/n was able to snap a photo of the two, making it her lock screen image.

“So…” his expression shifted as if sudden realization had struck him. “It’s my fault?” Guilt was evident on his face.

Y/n burst out laughing and pulling him into a tight hug. “No, love, it’s no one’s fault. You are her idol, she just wants to like you and dress like you. She is still young, just let her be.”

“Do you really mean it… you think I’m her idol?”

Nodding her head, Y/n pecked his lips twice, “yes, I might have carried her for nine months and birth her, but you are by far her favorite.”

. . .

E/n: Can you imagine, rock star hair looking Kiyoomi with glasses? #nosebleed

@pierroswife @queenelleee @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @chickflickjunkie @saikisho3 @sunawayx @vicolangelo @tsumu-senpai @famebydefinition @imnotjo @jojowantstocry @levistiddies @ushygushybaby @gina239 @qualitygiantshoepsychic

[gottadothembts]

Stray Kids Minho x fem!reader

Word count : who know?

Summary : He always visited you, but not for YOU. But as one day passes by, something happens at home.

Genre : Fluff.

Minho and I have been friends since........ forever.

It was back when I was just 3 years old when I had shifted to Korea to live there. I was walking down the street with my mom until I heard a distant ‘meow’. I was excited about hearing the sound of a cat, since I was still consumed in my child curiosity. I dragged my mom towards it to find an injured cat lying near a dustbin. Its coat was dirty and small patches of blood showed that it went in a fight.

My young self found it heartbreaking and I begged my mom to take care of it. Of course my mom disagreed to take it back home, but we took care of it from where it was lying down. My mom and I had rushed to get a first aid kit and some cat food and when we returned, the cat seemed to be sleeping. Taking that as an advantage, we patched the cat up and when it woke up, we gave it some food. After a while we found out that it was a girl.

The cat got attached to us really fast, and it seemed to win both my mother’s and my heart. We must have stayed there till late afternoon, but we didn’t care. I and mom were in the middle of playing with the cat when a voice came in,

“Hwan....?”

I looked around to see a boy of my age who looked shocked. He ignored us and rushed towards the cat. As he ran, the cat also went towards him, like it was natural. My young self got jealous at this action,

“Hey! Thats my kitty!”.

The boy didn’t even listen to me as he examined the cat. He looked up at me after a whole minute.

“Who are you?”, he asked.

“I’m Y/N. And thats my kitty”, I said as I approached the cat.

The boy stepped back with the cat in his hands,

“Sorry, but she is mine. She likes roaming outside so I let her out in the early mornings. I didn’t know that she got injured, thank you for taking care of her. Im really thankful”, the boy said as he looked down shyly.

I frowned at him, “Who are you?”.

“Lee Minho. The cat’s name is Hwan”, he replied.

“What does Hwan mean?”, I asked curiously.

“Shining and bright”.

.......And that was how Minho became my best friend.

19 years later, he was a butt. Not like he wasn’t throughout the years. It was just that he had the audacity to come to my home without permission, and he didn’t even come for ME. The day after meeting him, mom and I had decided to take in a few other street cats to help them. This made Minho visit us almost every day. Of course we got close, but it was his adoration for my cats that he kept coming back. But it started becoming lonely after he went to practice for his dance and got recruited as a backup dancer for BTS. Not later, he got to go in a group called Stray Kids.

It got empty because of him, but he tried to visit his hometown as much as he could. And when that happened, he would bring his three cats to my house to play with MY cats. He would always be mesmerised by them, and would barely put his attention on me.

Right now was one of the moments that he had come to my house.

A knock had come from my door. I went to open it and found a familiar face. It was Minho, with Soonie, Doongie and Dori trailing behind him.

“Where are my little kitties?”, He said with excitement as he rubbed his hands and entered my house.

I looked at him bewildered, since still after so many years, I never got used to his sudden appearance. What shocked me more was that I hadn’t even seen him for the past year. And now he came barging into my home without saying anything.

What a butt...

“How was...... Australia?”, I asked softly.

“It was fun. We had successful concerts and met a lot of fans. Chan and Felix led us around showing some of the places they knew and even met their families. Yeah, it was..... fun”, he stumbled slightly as the cats piled up on him.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his struggling figure as 7 cats kept climbing on him. I went in to help and brought down some cats. None cooperated with me except for Doongie. Doongie was like the moody middle child, and I was the favourite aunt. We fit together perfectly and Minho was jealous every time he saw us together.

“Give me back my Doongie”, he said as he still continued to struggle with the cats.

“Lol, no”, I answered easily as I picked up Doongie and went to the kitchen to bring some cat food.

We heard the intense meowing from the cats as they fought over Minho while me and Doongie were chilling in the kitchen to get some food. When I finally brought out the food, the cats left Minho and came to eat the food. While they ate, Minho came and sat beside me and rested his head on my shoulder. It would have been awkward, if we weren’t best friends. But sadly we were very close. At this point I knew everything about him, and that was why I never complained about him. It was his way of loving me that he showed love to my pets.

“How have you been?”, Minho asked as he took a video of the cats from his phone.

“Ugh, fine. Just studying and studying and studying. Other then that, I miss you”, I slowly whispered.

“Its good to know that I’m not the only one who misses you. Like I miss the cats AND YOU. Like.... why?”, he whined.

I laughed at him, “It happens when you have a heart”.

He gave me a glare, a glare that I got immune to throughout the years. “I have such a big heart. Touch me”.

He lifted my hand and put it on his chest. What all I got was muscles and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Stop flexing your muscles, Lee Minho”.

He joined me laughing and then looked at me, “You look different. Why?”

“Perhaps because you haven’t seen me for a year. You know, people change in a year”, I replied as I looked back at him.

“And not like you haven’t changed too. Like look at that jawline, man. And that flawless skin. Lemme touch it”, I continued as I brought my hands to his face and squished them.

His skin was soft under my finger and I couldn’t help but give his cheeks a kiss. I saw a blush appear on his face and I laughed at him. He blushed harder when he realised that he was blushing. Minho brought his hands to my wrists and pulled them away. He glared at me and rubbed his numb cheeks.

“Oh cmon, you’re so cute”, I cooed at him.

“No. You are cuter”, he countered back as he pinched my cheeks.

“Thats right, you ugly”, I laughed and looked at him.

“.....Why are you becoming like me?”

“You’re contagious, my dude”, I said as I started playing with his hair.

Minho scoffed under his breath but leaned into my touch. I braided his hair, then removed it, then braided it, then removed it. He like it since I was also massaging his head.

“Would you like coming to the tour with me?”, Minho suddenly proposed out of the blue.

I stopped braiding and looked at him,

“Nah, I don’t think I can”

“But I want to be with you”

“Who will take care of the cats?”

“Mom”

“I’ll be a nuisance to you”

“But im tired of not living with you”

“What do you mean?”

“I like you, ya’ moron”.

Wha......?

Did he just- Did he just confess?

“It what way?”, I asked suddenly.

“In that way that I wanna cuddle with you”, he replied back with no hesitation.

It was so sudden. Something so out of the blue naturally shocked me. I never even dreamed that he liked me back. Yes, I said ‘back’. It wasn’t easy to keep my feeling for so many years. There was so much tension that I brought in our past years, but it never came to my head that he could also be the one who could bring up the tension. Having a crush on Lee Minho was tough. He was famous amongst the girls, though he was oblivious, but what made it more tough was that now he was a worldwide famous idol. I couldn’t help but suppress those feeling but rather put the feeling of pure friendship in front of us. As the years went, I got used to it and never thought of it much.

But this time, today, now, I felt like the helpless teenager in love. The feelings that I kept buried down overflowed my heart and I couldn’t help but caress his face. My eyes were filled with love and my body was relaxed.

“Isn’t it funny how I like you back too?”, I said under my breath as I leaned in.

“It is. Completely unexpected”, he replied as he leaned in too.

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No, not this time”.

So that was how that 7 cats saw us flirting with each other for the rest of the day.

Lol, I had a boyfriend now.

[cablesscutie]

Oh could you do 3 or 17 for the zutara fluff prompt please?☺️

I love both of these- thank you! I'm going to save #17 for a little later, so here's #3: “You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3

Zuko flips down the visor in his car to fuss with his hair one last time. Mai and Ty Lee had insisted that he pull part of it up to keep him from hiding behind his hair like he was wont to do when he got nervous. In this particular situation, Zuko found that it made him extra nervous to know that he didn’t have that security blanket, scar on full display. This was why he didn’t do blind dates. This poor girl was already suffering through the awkwardness of an ex’s wedding, and now she was going to have to do it while pretending to be vaguely attracted to him.

Her text the previous night had included a reminder of the time and address, as well as an apologetic note that, hey I’m sorry to heap more awkward on this, but apparently this ex is friends with another of my ex’s and it ended Badly...and I might’ve implied that you were a little more significant to me than a blind date? Really I’m so so sorry and I can tell them you have food poisoning or something if this is too awkward, but really all you have to do is not mention that we’re strangers. Sorry!! He’d had absolutely zero clue how to appropriately respond to that message. His first impulse had been to think that of course he didn’t want to pretend to be her boyfriend in front of not one, but two of her ex’s. But Mai probably wouldn’t see this as too much for the favor he owed her. Then his brain had flitted unwillingly to the Instagram account Ty Lee had showed him, and before he could stop himself, his fingers were tapping out That’s fine - see you then.

“Okay,” Zuko sighs, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. He closes his eyes and pulls in a deep breath, holds it, and on the exhale unclenches his hands and forces himself out of the car. The temple rises up before him in a series of spires and exterior staircases, terraced gardens overflowing with practical plants rising up around all of it. He follows the trickle of people who seem like they know where they’re going, glancing about idly for a familiar face.

She finds him first, which he probably should’ve expected given that his face stands out pretty clearly. She’s also more petite than he’d expected. If she weren’t wearing heels, the top of her head would probably tuck easily under his chin. Zuko shakes his head quickly to erase the thought before it can take hold properly, which unfortunately comes at the same instant that she asks, “Zuko?” and leaves her blinking at him in utter confusion. “Oh. I, uh.”

“I mean yes!” he rushes to correct, reaching out to grab her elbow as she starts to turn away. “Zuko. Me. I mean.” Fuck, he’s such a moron. He clears his throat and holds out his hand to shake. “Hi, Zuko here.” There’s a familiar and terrible heat in his cheeks and spilling down his neck, and he wishes to Agni not for the first time that he could be anyone but Zuko right now.

Katara laughs at him, as she should, but it is a kind laughter, all dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes. The pictures hadn’t done her justice. “Hi Zuko,” she says, taking his hand and shaking it. “Katara here.” He can’t help but return her smile, goofy as it probably comes across. “Thank you again so much for coming to this shitshow,” she tells him as she drops his hand. “We should probably head inside - it’s starting soon.”

Zuko offers her his arm to be escorted up the stairs of the temple. It’s an old-fashioned gesture that has always gotten mixed reception, but Uncle has drilled manners into him so relentlessly that he always falls back on them reflexively when in a panic. Luckily, she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow with a smile, and his shoulders settle as he guides them both. Along the way, she catches him focusing on the planters, and asks, “do you like gardening?”

“My mother did,” he says reflexively, and he turns to her in time to catch the very moment she registers the past tense. He wants to kick himself for setting up pity or prying questions, but she just gives his arm a slight squeeze and says,

“So did mine. The flowers blooming every summer was her favorite part of the year.”

Usually, he is precious with his memories, but hearing the echo of his own grief in her wistful tone makes him actually want to share his mother with her. “She came from a family of traditional healers, and wanted to keep up the knowledge, so she grew all kinds of herbs and wildflowers that were used in old cures.”

She hums, and they walk along in silence for another moment before she says, “Did she teach you anything?”

“She started to.” It’s bittersweet, his mother’s unfinished legacy. “I have her books though, so maybe someday I’ll finish studying them.” Katara smiles at him, part sympathy, part understanding. Zuko’s heart pounds. When her eyes meet his, he almost wants to hide because it feels like she can see too much.

“Did you learn any cures for nerves?” Katara asks, the sardonic dip of her voice a gift to lighten the mood. Zuko smiles back, starting to laugh off the heavy conversation, but a flash of something catches his attention.

Katara’s eyes go wide as he lets go of her to crouch down and carefully pick a purple blossom. He does it just the way his mother had shown him, finding the right joint in the stem to make sure it will grow back, and with a gentle bend and twist, it breaks between his fingers. The fragrance follows him as he rises and offers the sprig of lavender to Katara. In trying to indicate that she should smell it, he almost shoves it up her nose when she leans towards it, but she giggles and wrinkles her nose adorably. Her fingers fold around his as she slips the stem out of his grasp.

“Thank you.

“Mom used to put a little vase of lavender in me and my sister’s rooms to help us sleep,” Zuko explained.

“I feel better already.” She sniffs the flower again as she slips her arm through his again to properly enter the ceremony space, her eyes fluttering closed for a fraction of a second that steals his breath away. This is actually going well, he thinks in utter astonishment. I keep tripping over my tongue like a moron, but for some reason she seems to like it. A voice in the back of his head that sounds uncomfortably like his teenage self sneers, Wow, she must be really desperate not to look single. Must be some impressive ex’s. Zuko’s heart stutters and slows back to normal. Right. This is a favor. He needs to focus.

Not least because his distraction causes him to walk right into the man who appears in front of Katara. “Sorry,” he says reflexively, stumbling back. Katara’s grip on his arm has tightened, keeping him from dragging both of them off balance. Despite her small stature, she is rooted firmly, anchoring them both. He realizes why as soon as the guy pretends to dust off his sport coat (which is not particularly neat to begin with) and purrs, “So Kat, this is the new guy?” as though Zuko isn’t even there. So this is the other ex.

“Zuko,” he and Katara say at the same time, in the same steely tone.

The ex looks briefly startled, but recovers enough to shake Zuko’s hand. “The name’s Jet.”

Zuko has never met Jet before, and yet he knows from the curl of his smile that he has made out with several Jets at various parties in college. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Jet squeezes Zuko’s hand a little harder, just to the edge of macho discomfort. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Katara scoffs - almost inaudibly, but it’s there - and Zuko can’t help but look to her and say, “It would be, wouldn’t it?” It’s the kind of snarky remark he and Mai used to share under their breath at their parents’ insufferable dinner parties back in high school. The two women are nothing alike, but there is something similar to the ease he feels with his best friend as he stands beside her. She bites her lip, and her eyes glitter with silent laughter, and Zuko feels a much gentler heat kindling under his skin. Jet manages to look confused and dismissive in one twitch of his ridiculous eyebrows, but returns his attention to Katara undeterred. His eyes linger as they trace obviously over the v of her dress’s neckline and admittedly tempting curves draped in navy satin before he flashes her a pair of puppy dog eyes and asks, “Save me a dance?” When she doesn’t immediately respond, he tilts his head and entreats, “For old times’ sake?”

Zuko is irritated to once again be entirely ignored, and the possessive part of him wants to snap at Jet that all of Katara’s dances are already reserved for him. Hard-earned self control wins out though, and Zuko manages to remind himself that despite his attraction and the ruse he is meant to be perpetuating, he is not actually Katara’s boyfriend. There is no real reason for him to be upset if she chooses to dance with Jet. There are several reasons for the flutter in his chest when her expressive face hardens to stone.

There is no excuse or cutting joke, just one word, a complete sentence: “No.” She gives him nothing to play off of, no buttons to push or entreaties to make, and he backs down quickly.

“Oh. Uh. Okay, I guess I’ll just...see you at the reception?”

“Yeah, you’ll see us there,” Zuko cuts in, mouth stumbling ahead without him. He puts too much significance on the word us, but seems to bother Jet, and Katara leans into his side, so he figures it’s okay. Jet lifts his chin in a parting nod to him. Zuko just meets his eyes evenly as the other man turns away to find his seat. Shaking his head as he watches the guy go, Zuko says, “Pft. If your friend invited that guy, I think you need better friends,” because he has no filter. And then he remembers yet again that he doesn’t know Katara, much less her friends, and he is overstepping all over this situation. His free hand comes up to smack himself in the face. “Shit. Sorry I’m probably screwing this up so bad; I’m the worst blind date in history.”

A small, warm hand closes around his wrist and tugs his hand away. Katara shifts to stand in front of him, blocking the rest of the wedding full of strangers from his view as his attention narrows only to the bounce of her hair and the crescent of her smile.

“You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more.”

Here's the prompt list!

[mistergrass]

Zodiac Mom Headcanons: Momiji’s Mom

Slowly but surely I am making my way through these mom posts. This time let’s talk about someone whose worst moments as a mother were put on blast for the audience to see. 

Rat & Snake Mom | Ox Mom | Tiger Mom | Rabbit Mom | Dragon Mom

Momiji’s mother is an only child born in Berlin. 

Her father, a handsome and charismatic man, is a renowned photographer. Her mother, beautiful and alluring, is a dancer. They’re drawn to each other immediately when they meet on a photoshoot that features her mother’s dance troupe. 

Their romance is as short-lived as it is passionate, and the affair comes to an abrupt end when her mother becomes pregnant. 

The responsibility of a child falls almost completely on her mother’s shoulders, essentially ending her dance career (something she had left her family to pursue), and the beginnings of a cruel resentment begin to take form.

Her father has the spirit of an artist -- not wanting to be tied down to one woman, and not very suited for a traditional family lifestyle. That being said, he doesn’t abandon mother and child completely. 

As Momiji’s mother grows up, her father will pop in and out of her life as he pleases. She thinks her mother can be too strict, too mean, and becomes a difficult child to handle as a result. But when her father comes to visit, she is over the moon and perfectly behaved. He’ll take her to museums, show her the photographs hanging in his studio, give her a stepping stool so she can help in his dark room, and (unlike her mother) will never ever scream at her even when clumsy, childish hands accidentally spill things or knock things over. 

Her father never sticks around for very long, and as wonderful as it is to see him, it hurts tenfold when he leaves. And so, she grows up with her mother’s snappish impatience, and her father’s casual and conditional affection. 

Going into her teenage years, Momiji’s mom begins to come into her own as an artist -- admiring and following the path of her father. She loves painting and ceramics, but she begins to grow into an undeniable beauty and it’s not long that she’s discovered as a model.

Her mother does not approve of this choice. For her, it’s bad enough that she has to watch her daughter openly prefer her father’s company to her own (despite everything she’s given up to raise her, while he can barely spare to send a postcard on their daughter’s birthday), but now her daughter is adding insult to injury by pursuing her father’s lifestyle. A lifestyle her mother was forced to give up to have a child. 

It also doesn’t help that Momiji’s mom finds almost instant success as a model. 

Where her mother was simply impatient before, now she becomes cruel. 

She begins to undermine her daughter’s beauty, nitpicking at every little thing about her appearance. Momiji’s mother is now being constantly told that her photos are drab, ugly, unprofessional. That her beauty is fleeting, that the world around her will discover one day how little talent she has, and that her artistic abilities are worthless and boring. All this while she’s still only a teenager. 

Momiji’s mom acts out in different ways, but mostly by taking on more modeling work (that exhausts her) and bringing home boyfriends her mother would never approve of (for good reason).

Her first serious boyfriend is a man six years her senior who is possessive and jealous, and rips to shreds the last bits of self-esteem she had left. 

By the end of their four year relationship, Momiji’s mother has come to believe that something inside her is deeply, truly ugly. She has an overflowing anxiety that others will see her for what she truly is. Something that is wholly incompatible with her inability to be alone -- whether romantically, or via the need to surround herself constantly with people. 

It’s at this time, at 20 years old and in her second year of university, that she meets Momiji’s father at a campus mixer.

At first, she’s intimidated by him (thought that doesn’t stop her from making conversation). She finds he’s not just studying abroad here, but attends the university full-time. He’s fluent in Japanese, German, and English, and seems so much smarter than she believes herself to be. In addition, he has a cold, distant demeanor to him that makes him seem unattainable. 

Momiji’s father on the other hand, is taken immediately by this woman. He’s awkward and nervous in large social gatherings, but has been told from an early age never to outwardly show his discomfort. But she talks so passionately, so freely, that he can’t help but be drawn to her. When he fumbles over his words at the end of the night to ask her out for dinner, she realizes that she’d mistaken his shyness for apathy, and it immediately enamors him to her. 

After two dates, they become inseparable. 

She’s taken in by his kindness and gentility. He listens to her as if everything she says matters. He isn’t at all like the arrogant personalities she’s dated in the past, and if anything has an aversion to talking about himself. He never once makes her feel stupid, puts her down, or makes her feel worthless.

She’s prone to terrible mood swings and bouts of manic self-loathing that will leave her a sobbing mess. But where this has driven away boyfriends in the past, it only serves to make him more devoted to her. He holds her in his arms, and never once gets upset with her for being so much to handle.

Momiji’s father is an only child from a high-ranking Sohma family, and has had the entirety of his life mapped out for him since birth. He works to inherit his father’s business, and to maintain their standing in the family. Insurmountable pressure had been put on his shoulders from a young age, one that isolated him from making true friends in favor of focusing solely on his studies. He was never allowed to be overwhelmed, to not be good enough, nor to be disobedient. 

But Momiji’s mother is like a walking piece of art -- chaotic and beautiful. He finds her endlessly interesting. He’s never met anyone who talks so openly about the things they love, the things they hate, or their own fears and insecurities. He likes feeling as though he can take care of her. He likes being someone reliable for her. And, eventually, he finds her to be the only person in the world that he can be vulnerable with. He has only ever cried in front of her. 

For the last two years of college they spend all their free time together. He uses his cushy Sohma allowance to take them on trips and long weekends around Europe. And when the time comes for him to return to Japan after graduation, he can’t picture even a moment of his future without her. 

He proposes, she says yes, and she agrees to leave her life in Berlin behind to move to Japan. 

It’s a difficult transition. Though she had started learning Japanese when they first started dating, she’s far from fluent. It makes forming friendships and new connections within the Sohma family all the harder. 

It’s also clear that her mother-in-law does not take too much of a liking to her. Momiji’s father bends over backwards making sure that their new home has space for her to continue her artistic pursuits, which comes off as frivolous to her new family. She also has limited housekeeping skills which reflects poorly on her ability to be a proper wife. 

It’s an isolating experience, especially with her husband working long, late hours nearly every night. The loneliness begins to eat at her, resurfacing the shattered self-esteem that her new husband had spent the past two years healing. She seriously considers moving back to Germany on more than one occasion, but then she gets pregnant. 

She’s not ready for a child. It’s too soon, and the thought of taking care of a whole other person is terrifying when she can barely stand to get out of bed most days now. But her husband assures her this will be a good thing, that maybe it will help the aching loneliness she feels. 

Before she has a chance to get excited, they’re summoned by a young Akito. 

Momiji’s mother doesn’t really process what she’s being told. Her husband has to translate what the little six year old is saying to her, and when he does his face is pinched and anxious. 

A curse, he says. Her child is cursed. Somehow it makes sense, what with everything that dwells inside herself, but it’s hard for her to grasp this whole thing beyond that.

The pregnancy is a difficult one, filled with complications and scares that leaves her health completely depleted. When Momiji is born two months premature, her nerves are completely frayed. 

True understanding of her child’s situation doesn’t really hit her until she holds a small rabbit in her arms, swaddled like a baby. 

She vomits when it first happens. The transformation leaves her completely shaken, and she can’t understand why no one else around her seems to find this as horrific as it obviously is. 

She does her best for the first few years. Honestly, she does. But the child makes her nervous. The supernatural nature of it all terrifies her, and she shakes every time she tries to hold her child and finds a little rabbit there instead. 

As he grows older, she finds herself snapping at him over the smallest things, just as her mother did to her. A guilt builds inside her steadily that somehow she is at fault for this, that her hidden, disgusting nature warped and mutated their child. The thought of it puts her in hysterics at times, and she finds she can never relax in her own home.

Her husband urges her to keep herself together. There’s a desperation in his voice when he talks to her now. He reminds her, again and again, that above everything else Momiji is their child. Theirs, and no one else’s. He is their son that they have created, and he is still a symbol of the love they have for each other. Once she adjusts to the situation, she’ll learn to love him the way he knows she can. She just needs more time.

During this period, other zodiac mothers make an attempt to reach out, and her Japanese is finally at a level that she can have pleasant conversation with them. Haru and Yuki’s mothers invite her to lunch often enough. Shigure’s mother is also very hospitable. She also takes a real liking to Kureno’s mother, though the woman is clearly disliked by many of the other women in the family. 

It helps, but it’s still difficult to talk to these women about her issues with the curse and with her son. Their eyes are judgmental, and she worries if she falls apart in front of them it would not be met with the same warmth as her husband (though he’s hardly ever around anymore). 

Stress and guilt and shame and fear slowly build inside her for the next four years. Then, one day, she sits down to paint and realizes she can’t. She’s too locked up -- the reality of her situation has become too overwhelming, and she can’t even release it through her art.

She finally decides to tell someone about what’s going on. Her husband had been very clear with her that this curse is to remain completely secret, but it’s not as if she wants to do a news interview. All she wants is to talk to her mom. 

Her mother is still the same harsh, critical woman she’s always been, but they’ve grown closer in the past few years. Becoming a mother herself has made her appreciate her own mother more, and the distance has softened both of them to each other considerably. 

She tells her mother the whole story, with her listening surprisingly sympathetically throughout. By the end of the conversation, Momiji’s mother feels more comforted and loved by her mother than she has in years. 

It’s Momiji’s father that gets the call from his livid mother-in-law demanding to know what’s happened to her daughter, and if he’s doing anything about the fact that she’s having a complete nervous breakdown that features wild delusions regarding their child.

Momiji’s father comes home that night, and for the first time he becomes truly angry at her. He scolds her for telling her mother anything about their situation, which only serves to make her just as angry since she was only seeking a bit of support. 

But it all gets much much worse when he says how lucky they are that her mother thought she was deranged. 

The whole world drops from below her feet when he admits that he let her mother continue to think that she was clinically insane. The man who had always defended her, understood her, cared for her -- the man she had left everything for -- had created a lie so egregious and spouted it back to her own mother. 

She demands to know why he would do such a thing, and when he sputters out his thoughtless obedience to this strange family -- the one with the child treated like a king, and with all these dark secrets. After so long of telling her that she was his light when his family treated him like nothing, after telling her that she was his most important family now -- it’s a betrayal that she’d never expected from the man she loves.

The reality of her isolation comes down all at once. There is no one left she can talk to, there is no place she can go, and this child now represents something completely foreign to her. The only thing that was keeping her together was her husband’s assurances that the child was completely theirs -- but it’s not. This child belongs to the Sohmas, to some curse that her body housed and nurtured. The disgust that’s been building inside her body breaks like a dam and completely washes over Momiji. 

She becomes inconsolable. She refuses to look at her son, and her husband becomes subject to fits of rage and anguish. He feels as though he’s completely lost her, and with the love of his life so indisposed, he feels just as alone. 

Momiji’s father is the one who tells her about the option to wipe her memory. Not just in hopes of reeling back her sanity, but because he wants her to forget the lie he told. If she forgets that, maybe their marriage can go back to how it was. If she forgets that deep cut of betrayal, maybe she won’t look at him like he’s some misshapen stranger. 

She agrees as quickly as she had when he proposed. Together they decide that forgetting Momiji will ultimately be for the best.

At first when she recovers, things seem to return back to normal. But there’s always a piece missing as the years go on. There’s always something not quite right. Momiji’s father is paranoid and nervous -- the presence of his wife is no longer a comfort, but a stressor. And sometimes, for the briefest moment, he’ll catch her staring at him. Her eyes far off and distant, like she’s completely lost in thought, and the expression that rests on her face will be one of fear. When she comes back to herself, it’s as if she hadn’t even noticed. 

The zodiac mothers are told not to speak to her after her memory is erased, which suits most of them just fine (Haru’s mother took particular offense to the decision). Below is the relationship chart for pre-memory wipe: 

Friends with: Kureno’s mom, Haru’s mom, Shigure’s mom, Ritsu’s mom

Doesn’t like: Yuki’s mom, Hatori’s mom

[reeeyachi]

Thoughts: KilluGon Confession, Gon’s Emotional Control

Okay, so, this is a follow up post to my response/reaction/emotions on Tele’s post about KilluGon potentially canon explicit romantic confession. (Her detailed explanation was wonderful and beautiful and excellent, I just wanted to make a separate post on my thoughts because my brain is screaming into the void rn.)

Ok disclaimer: I’m working with the remainder of my caffeinated braincells right now so everything I say will be 100% subjective and just *thoughts* aka *mush*.

So…

I’ve also had/believed this headcanon that Gon fell first since I started watching hxh years ago because it’s too obvious, right? Tbh, I never thought of Killua being gay for Gon until recently (like 8 months ago-recently) because it’s always Gon who’s explicit about his thoughts on Killua. It’s too obvious. We could never miss it. So him confessing his love for him would make so much sense. Everything falls into place in my head.

Lea said some really good stuff about Killua’s character arc and how it sends a positive message to all the readers and everyone who identifies with him, a child who suffered from years of abuse. And him receiving love, accepting it and giving it in return would complete his growth process (I’m basically just summarizing here; please read Tele’s post they’re much more comprehensive and well-written).

A dramatic romantic confession to happen in canon would be the one to seal it – from Gon, a complete stranger he randomly met at the Hunter Exam, the first person to call him a friend, the person who went out of his way to save him from his family’s tortures, the boy who accepted him for who he is, wholly, unconditionally.

It would change everything. It would end past traumas.

Not only Killua’s, but also Gon’s.

Please allow me to lay down my 4am thoughts about what I think confessing his feelings for Killua would mean for Gon as well (with regard to his own character arc and self-worth issues).

Okay so before I go into that I want to try and explain how “confessing love” feels like / what it means to the person SAYING it. It’s nerve-racking. The tension. The pressure on your shoulders. The block in your throat. Your shaky hands. Your shaky voice. The fear of getting rejected. The fear of saying the wrong words or doing the wrong thing. The fear of jumping into the unknown. It’s a leap of faith. An ending and/or a beginning. It’s that line you cross where you can never go back. Once the words are said, BAM, it stays forever, and the very thought of that, the anxiety, the overthinking, nips at your brain.

The very thought of confessing to a person you like/love FOR THE FIRST TIME is fucking terrifying (Idk about you, but it is to me. And I feel like, for TEENAGERS, it would feel like hell’s pulling them to the earth’s core. Just. The thought of it.)

What I’m trying to say here is that, expressing genuine *romantic* feelings takes courage. And in this headcanon, with Gon being the one to SAY IT FIRST, he would probably go through all of these. But him being ABLE to say it would mean MORE THAN overcoming a fear of expressing. “But Gon doesn’t have any problems expressing his emotions.” Actually, you’re not wrong. But, for me, this isn’t exactly right.

Let’s jump first to me explaining my take on how Gon handles emotions:

For me, Gon has a hard time expressing what’s in his heart. Idk how to explain, but it’s just that, it’s so easy for him to say what’s on his mind all the time. But he has a tendency of neglecting negative emotions and hiding his true feelings; or letting himself feel it for a while but then he finds something that would make him forget about it. We’ve seen him breakdown. Emotions. Just piled up. And he exploded.

He said some bad things to Killua, he did some bad stuff. It’s all in the heat of the moment. And for me, I see it as lack of emotional control (bc he’s 12 and has abandonment issues and witnessed his father-figure severe his arm and basically dead in front of him give him a break YOU BREAKDOWN AND SAY BAD THINGS TO PEOPLE YOU LOVE AT 23Y/O DO NOT DENY IT) because he doesn’t know HOW to control it when it gets to him.

He’s afraid that he might break. And in effect, he would feel weak and helpless and useless. (Or even vice versa.)

Gon, unknowingly, protects himself from breaking by inserting the good things in his head. He protects himself from feeling useless by lending a helping hand, because he feels that he’s valuable that way; he feels that he’ll be loved and validated that way. He’d feel that he has purpose. It happens to people, which isn’t a bad thing at all, but it’s something that Gon could learn how to cope up with as he grows and matures.

(Read Tele’s wonderful meta about Gon Freecss here. I haven’t finished reading but I’m loving every bit of it so far.)

Ok back to the confession take:

Having said that, I feel that Gon would find it difficult to express what it is he’s feeling in his heart. But here we have to recognize the fact that Togashi threw him back in Whale Island, nen-less and Killua-less, doing homework and chores and good ‘ol Islander stuff. The beauty of this interval is that it would give him MORE TIME and the SPACE and PEACE he needs to get into his head and heart and just think everything through, learn how to deal with his emotions. Since he already experienced a peak of his emotional catastrophe at 12y/o, he would look back at everything and just… realize what it is that he has to.

Part of it is his feelings for you-know-who catboy. <3

And he wants to tell him. I also think that he would want something to happen after telling him. But, he doesn’t know if or how he could say it freely, unlike before when they were stargazing and he suddenly told him that he happy when he’s with Killua. At that time, it was a spur of the moment; at that time, him and Killua haven’t experienced the trauma that is CAA; at that time, it was simple. But now? How could Gon face him and tell him that he loves Killua after everything that had happened? Something would hold him back. He would hesitate. Something like…

So, again, him being able to say it (for me) would mean so much more than a simple get-together. Here’s a short list because I love lists!

Self-discovery and self-affirmation. You know how we see Gon as this sunshine boy who just wants to follow his dad’s footsteps to try and figure out what being a hunter is like / what’s great about being a hunter that Ging chose to not stay with him. At the present timeline, he already met Ging, he fulfilled his goal. What would he do now? What does he truly want? For me, him knowing that he *loves* someone dearly and *wants* to stay with that person would mean that he’s discovering which path he intends to go, for the long-term, and that sticking with that plan by expressing what he feels would simply affirm this self-discovery. It’s kind of related to that post by Tele here, of Gon following a path that’s not his dad’s footsteps. He’d have his own thing. He’d be his own person. Confessing your true feelings to your BEST FRIEND in the whole world would be a BIG STEP and Gon should know that it shouldn’t be taken lightly. It’s a very mature thing to do! When this becomes canon, idk, I’d cry because I’d be so proud of him for realizing what he feels, taking that emotion carefully and maturely, and expressing it lovingly – which brings me to my next point.

Being open to give and accept love again. Emphasize on the “again” because he went through a traumatic episode in his young life. You know that saying that you can never give what you don’t have? Well, folks, I think this is also applicable to Gon’s character now, like, after CAA, and after everything basically. We always see him giving love to OTHERS. Do we see him give love to himself? Gon endures pain and suffering because he thought it’s what he deserved. He’s willing to die in his best friend’s place so that he’d live. He’s willing to die to atone for something he didn’t even do. Gon needed to love himself. He had to learn how to take care of himself. You can never give a love you don’t have – so him dropping everything and professing his love for Killua would also mean that he DID it, finally. He’d have so much love for himself to give. He’d be ready to give all the love he stored for himself, and I think that’s really pretty.

Overcoming past trauma / getting back up on his feet. Having said all those, it all boils down to overcoming and ending past trauma – everything – because it would be a start of something new and fresh and beautiful. It would be a beginning of a new world for him, bright, spotless, unadulterated. When you fall in love, everything falls into place somehow, and all you see are beautiful things. I think this is meaningful because, while he’d seen beautiful things, Gon experienced abandonment, he experienced trauma and all the awful things we saw so far. So, with this confession happening, this new beginning, he’d look at the world with brand new eyes, he’d look at Killua, and think that it’s not so bad after all, because he’d have this overflowing love stored in his heart. It would cancel out the bad. He’d have another reason to live and stay alive. He’d have that one thing he wants more than any material thing – and that is love and happiness. Confessing is a choice. And by doing it, Gon chooses love and happiness over any material thing he wished to hunt.

I don’t know if that made sense but there! lol This might be reaching but just imagine the symbolism. It would mean so much. <3

[im-abanana]

@geekgirles The Rock!Branch AU is my drug now, and I shall never stop loving it. 

And thanks to the awesome post @tipolover22 sent us (thank you again, dear!), the one about Rock!Branch’s electric guitar, could I pass the opportunity to write some Broppy fluff?

Absolutely not.

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

As he sighed dramatically for the umpteenth time that morning, Branch resolved to give his poor lungs much more credit from that day forward. “Poppy, for the last time, could you please take this blindfold off my eyes? I am not a little trolling anymore, and you know how much I hate surprises…”

The Rock Troll perceived the warmth of her exasperated huff on the back of his disheveled nape hair, and he was fairly sure the Pop Queen was rolling those beautiful magenta orbs of hers. “Are all Rock Trolls so whiny and insufferable, or is it just you?” she inquired, her voice saturated with both mirth and impatience. “Come on tough boy, bear with me a tiny bit longer. We’re almost there, I promise!”

“I’m gonna bear with you for the rest of my life,” his hopelessly romantic-self wanted to say, but Branch bit his tongue to preserve some of his already stolen dignity. If anyone saw him, the Rock Trolls’ second in command, like this— wrapped up like some sort of birthday-boy! Yup, it was definitely not the proper time for silly poems and sentimentalism. 

“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled at last, because he couldn’t help but remind her again, and again, and again.

Imagine being that weak for a colorful, crazy, scrapbook-loving Pop Troll.

The young Queen’s carefree chuckle filled the air like a melody, and when Branch felt her lips peppering his left cheek with light kisses, his knees got all wobbly. 

“I know I am,” Poppy chirped sweetly, as if she really meant it, as if she truly believed she was the lucky one. 

Oh, nothing could be further from the truth!

The Queen’s petite fingers suddenly squeezed his biceps, making the Rock Troll stop in his wavering tracks. “Ok, here we are! Are you ready for your surprise, Branch?” she asked, definitely more excited than he was.

Pop Trolls loved to torture their mates, that had to be it. But then again, how could he deny her anything? He let out a last, defeated sigh and then nodded. “Please, don’t let it be glitter, don’t let it get on your face Branch, you’re still recovering from a bad case of cataract from last time…”

The moment Poppy freed him from the blindfold, the sudden sunlight struck his light blue eyes, forcing him to rub them with the back of his tattooed hands to help them adjust. And when they finally did, Branch found himself staring at a rather large, black box tied with a grey ribbon.

Black? No glitter? No rainbows, cupcakes or unicorns? Very uncharacteristic of her…

“What is it, Poppy?” the Captain wondered aloud, staring back and forth between the mysterious dull box and his girlfriend’s anticipating face.

“It’s, uh… just a present, really. For you,” Poppy lowered her gaze nervously, very shy all of the sudden. Her foot drew small circles in the soft grass underneath them. “Go on, open it! I— I just hope you’ll like it. I mean, I’m a Pop Troll and I still don’t know much about Rock Trolls’ taste, but…”

Branch’s hearth clenched tightly in the middle of his chest, pouring and pumping a rush of pure adoration in his bloodstream until he thought he could overflow with it; she seemed so vulnerable, so tense, so preoccupied. It was obvious that she was hoping she’d made the right choice. 

Most importantly, she was hoping she could make him happy.

Ok, he definitely didn’t deserve her. What did he— a grumpy, short-tempered and overly-tattooed rocker —do to deserve such a selfless angel?

Cupping her freckly cheeks with his callous palms, the Rock Trolls’ Captain gently spurred the Queen to lift her head up. “Poppy, listen to me,” he cooed, surprised by the tenderness of his own voice. “whatever it is, I’m sure I’m gonna love it. But you didn’t need to buy me a gift, really. I got everything I want here, right in front of me. What more could I possibly ask for?”

And who needed the sun, when her smile could shine so bright? Just as he didn’t need stars to wish upon, when an entire galaxy seemed to be sparkling in her eyes. 

“Aww Branch, you’re such a flatterer,” the pink Queen gasped, sincerely touched by his kind words, all of her concern replaced by a renewed excitement. “But enough of the mushy stuff and flatteries now, unwrap your present already! I still have my class to teach to, you know. I bet Wani and her friends are done babysitting, and I can’t exactly ask Tresillo and his mates either. Since their three eggs hatched, the Reggaeton Trolls’ are parenting 24/7!”

“Alright Pops, don’t worry. I’m opening the gift right now,” he assured, carefully grabbing the box and starting to gently pull the ribbon.

He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least a tiny bit curious. The Rock Troll didn’t exactly know what to expect; would it be a scrapbook? A lifetime supply of cupcakes? An explosion of multicolored glitter? Or maybe a— oh.

OH.

The last thing Branch expected to receive as a gift from the Queen of Pop was the sickest, awesomest electric guitar he’d ever seen in his entire life.

It was completely black, with a rough surface covered with different kinds of skulls. The biggest one was embedded in the lower left part of the guitar, just below the bridge, with fang-like bones making up for its missing mandible and going all the way to the lower right side. A small and complete skeleton— a critter he couldn’t fully recognize —was unnaturally splayed on the central part, between the pickups. And finally, skillfully attached to the strap pegs, there were two small mink’s skulls.

Whoa, just— whoa.

Branch was still gaping like a dead fish when Poppy’s voice tentatively broke through his astonishment and stupor. “So… do you like it?” she asked, not exactly able to interpret his kinda amusing expression. “I know how much you adore skulls, so I had this guitar made just for you. Well actually, truth to be told, it was Barb who recommended me this pretty talented luthier and—”

“Like it?” the Captain incredulously blurted out, struggling to avert his eyes from that absolute masterpiece. “Poppy, are you serious!? This is— oh my Rock, this is the coolest guitar I’ve ever seen! I don’t even know what to say, thank you! Thank you so much!” 

At this point, Branch could no longer restrain himself; he grabbed his beautiful girlfriend by the hips and lifted her up, playfully swinging her in the air like a crazy teenager. And the overjoyed laugh she regarded him with… damn, he could’ve spent forever listening to that beautiful laugh.

“Now that you gifted me such an amazing instrument,” the Rock Troll grinned smugly, the menacing sharpness of his fangs in cosmic disharmony with the soft kiss he placed on Poppy’s nose. “I hope you’re ready to be spoiled and serenaded all night long, my Queen.”

“You know I am. Do I get to choose one song?” the Queen of Pop excitedly asked, fluttering her long eyelids the way— she knew, that tiny torment —it made him absolutely crazy. “Or maybe two, pretty please?”

And again, how could he deny her anything? 

With a smile so warm and so big it could split his face in half, Branch started to mentally rehears the notes of those songs, their songs. 

“‘Perfect for Me’ and ‘True Colors’ it is, I suppose?”

[whatisahyunjin]

Redamantia; part four

lee minho x reader

genre: arranged marriage au, angst, fluff

word count: 1.3K

masterlist

...

Minho sighed for the umpteenth time that day when he saw the kitchen sink overflowing with dirty utensils. It was a sight that forced him to lose his calm, stirring up the feelings of annoyance that he had been trying to supress since the draining day he had at work.

Tossing his bag on the couch, he headed to your room. You were sprawled on the bed, your clothes, books and water bottles carelessly strewn all around you. Your desk had a couple of coffee mugs with your laptop, playing loud music as you flipped through the pages of your textbook. 

Minho leaned against the doorway until he caught your attention.

"Oh Minho you’re back- Hey,” you threw a smile his way before turning your attention back to the book.

Minho sighed and came to stand beside you. He snatched the book from your hands, causing you to scowl up at him.

"What is all this y/n? Why is the apartment so unkept? The dishes are not done, there is your stuff everywhere in the living room and your bedroom is just a huge mess,” he criticized you in frustration. You were shocked at first but then glared back as you reached for your book.

“The maid didn’t show up today, okay? That’s why this place is a mess, now give it back”

"Are you a child y/n? Do you not know how to do the dishes? Or pick up your items and place them where they belong?” Minho shouted, grabbing one of the plentiful water bottles and thrusting it into your hands.

This was something unfamiliar to you. Sure, Minho was cocky AND sweet, but never had you seen this side of him. But the shock wore off, and you were furious as well.

“I have been reading all day, I also have online meetings and sessions to attend to, projects to finish, you can’t expect me to be your perfect wife and clean this place when you leave for your job!”

"Well, no one is asking you to be my wife! It is human decency to clean after oneself. And let me guess, you would have ordered fast food today given that the maid didn’t come and you aren’t so self sufficient that you can cook for yourself,” Minho scoffed, turning around to go back to his room.

You gulped. He was right, but it was not like you had any choice. Even at home, you had been busy all day. As for your lack of essential skills, you had spent your entire life with servants that saw to all your needs and wishes.

"If you’re so disgusted by me, then move out. It’s you who needs me, Lee Minho, not the other way round,” you scowled at his retreating back.

Minho didn’t even look back as he replied, “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re a spoiled brat who has everything she needs at her will, unlike some of us who have to work hard.”

You didn’t like Minho. You definitely didn’t. 

Immediately as he closed the door behind him, you flipped through your book again but you couldn’t read the words. Tears filled your eyes. Sure, you were spoiled since birth but you had worked hard to be the top in your school and get into university. You had been constantly pestered and been talked about behind your back for betraying your father by not following in his footsteps, unlike other children of big businessmen. Your father himself didn’t have a problem with it but boy, had you heard some nasty things from others. Especially Naeun, who always had something bad to say about you and get on your nerves.

You closed your book and laid down in the mess on your bed as horrible memories revived in your head. The numerous times your friends only befriended you for your extravagant gifts and the habit of paying for everyone whenever you had an outing with them.

Never in your life had you flaunted your money, or been a show-off, you paid for your friends because you weren’t financially insecure unlike a few others. You expected nothing back from them except love and support.

…

The following morning, Minho peeked into your room to see that you were crashed out on your bed even with the bright sunlight entering through the open curtains. From the previous night, there were a few things he meant and a few things he regretted saying.

It being a weekend, Minho decided to cook breakfast for the two of you since the maid decided not to turn up for another day.

When he was satisfied with his meal for an apology, he placed the dishes on a tray and walked to your room. You were already awake, scrolling through your social media when he entered.

You noticed him, your eyes widening at the perfect-looking omelette and toast you only see in food-related videos, with two cups of coffee. Minho pulled the covers away and rested next to you with the tray in his lap. You sat up as well, gawking at the dishes in front of you. You never thought Minho would be the kind to make you breakfast in bed.

Minho cut off a piece of omelette with a fork and brought it to your lips. Hesitating a little before you tasted it, you gave him a thumbs up as soon as it hit your taste buds. He smiled at you and brought another piece to your mouth. You wanted to have more, but then you remembered that you just got up.

"It’s really good, wait I’ll brush my teeth and come,” you said, getting off the bed. Minho grabbed your arm to stop you.

"Y/n I’m sorry for yesterday, I didn’t mean it. I was stressed from work and I know that you do work hard. Just forget what I said, that's not how I think of you, I’m sorry,” Minho looked down as he picked at the food, his other hand still holding a fistful of your sleeve.

You took his hand into yours and patted it, “I’m sorry Minho, it was my fault as well, I should've cleaned up the living room at least," you smiled.

Minho returned the smile gratefully and waited for you to return after brushing your teeth. You placed yourself beside him again, this time a little closer so that your shoulders were touching. He fed you and also himself. The two of you were at peace for the first time since you had lived in the apartment.

"What do you want to do today? It's weekend," Minho asked you, setting aside the tray on the bedside table. It was not like you did many activities together but you had gotten closer over the previous few days.

"Umm, I don't know, how about we bake something?" you glanced at him, suddenly realising that you were too close to his face. Not that Minho was bothered by it.

"But we just ate," Minho whined, you knew how much of a fitness freak he was.

You two sat in silence thinking of ways to spend your day.

"By the way, the breakfast was really delicious, how did you learn to cook like that?" you commented, earning a shy smile from Minho.

"When I was a teenager, no one used to be home to feed me in the afternoon and Mom left me money. So instead of ordering something, many times I just bought ingredients and cooked myself."

"Food is the easiest thing to bond over, right? If someone gives me good food, they have my love forever," you said, already thinking about what you were going to eat for lunch.

"That's why I cooked breakfast for you I guess," Minho blurted, his face red as he proceeded to look at anything but you.

You were taken by surprise as you felt your face heat up as well. His blushing cheeks looked too cute. So, with one hand on his shoulder, you reached up to peck him on the cheek.

"Thank you, I loved it," you admitted. Minho met your eyes with an expression of shock and embarrassment. You chuckled nervously, shoving him off your bed, "Come on now, we have to clean this place!"

...

[aqvarius]

Masquerade Kiss: Do Bad Girls Like to Self-pleasure? Kazuomi Shido - otona love - chapter 3 summary/translation

welcome to chapter 3! we left off when kazuomi was at masquerade trying to ask yuzu and kei for advice and naturally they were being dicks. you can read the previous chapter here or  check out my translations page to read from the start.

“so... how to make that “special woman” surrender*...”

*literally raise the white flag

he thinks that if his lovemaking is inadequate to the point where you have to masturbate, it’s completely his responsibility. 

“i had intended to convey in full detail the extent of my overflowing love for her, but it seems that i didn’t do enough”

he thought he knew what you were looking for without having to ask and that maybe it wasn’t a possibility like he expected without having a conversation about it. 

kei: “it’s not that your technique got worse?”

(lmao these guys really say anything to each other, huh)

kei asks him directly while kazuomi is thinking of a strategy for how to make you weak for him** again. 

**literally 骨抜き “debone” lol

kazu: no way. not a chance

kei: you don’t know that. the only way to ascertain that is to confirm it with mc-san herself. plus she’s an agent who can wrap any man she chooses around her finger... acting must be her specialty

“i’m not a man who can’t see through a woman’s acting”

yuzuru: “you couldn’t get it up?” (💀)

kazu: it’s not that. it’s just that she gets sexually frustrated/pent up because we don’t see each other often enough. 

kei: “so you can get it up, but is the problem to do with hardness?”

basically yuzu asked him if he had erectile dysfunction, and then kei is asking if he can get it up but not get hard enough. these dudes literally have zero filter lmao, meanwhile i’m here reading and translating this like

“of course there’s no problem there. who do you think i am?”

i can’t believe yuzu and kei are just sat here questioning kazuomi’s virility lmao ;sldkfsdldjsls

kei: then... could you be stuck in a rut? (basically i think he’s asking if things are getting stale)

kazu: impossible

kazuomi: “... are you guys enjoying this [making fun of me]?” 

yuzuru: “yeah”

kei: “of course”

yuzu and kei have the same pleased smiles on their faces. 

kei: well, speaking seriously, sometimes it’s good to have a change of pace, isn’t it?

kei: “look, there are lots of things like this”

“kei lined up items that “make the night more fun” in a row on the table.”

“eye mask, whip, collar, handcuffs...”

“where did you hide*** this stuff?”

*** 隠し持つ: carrying something undercover 

bruh he literally pulled it out of nowhere like he had all these things on him the whole time they were at the club... 

yuzu: “also, why do you have this stuff on you now...”

kei: i don’t know what’s going to happen. i have to be prepared for everything

kazuomi: as far as i know, situations where you need these don’t occur everyday... 

kei: look, i recommend this one. i just got it recently...

kazuomi: “...no thanks****”

****he’s basically saying something that means something like “i appreciate the sentiment [but no]”, “your feelings [intentions] are enough”

after that, no helpful advice came up in the conversation. but kazuomi notes that both of them seem to be worried. they didn’t gross him out, but he politely refused kei’s favourite goods. 

a few days later, he invites you over for dinner. 

you tell him that you were just thinking of contacting him when the phone call came, which surprised you. kazuomi says “well well, that was good timing.” “aside from that diamond, you didn’t set up wiretap devices or GPS anywhere else, right?” you ask. kazu says if he gets jealous, he might do it sooner or later. 

“after all, my darling lover is in high demand from every direction” 

you: “oh my, i’d be happy if the world’s shido kazuomi got jealous”

basically, i think she’s trying to say here that it makes her happy that the great shido kazuomi would get jealous over her - she’s being a bit cheeky tho. he keeps an eye on your appearance/state while going back and forth with the usual conversation. there’s nothing special/particular about it... he doesn’t feel awkward this time. you’re eating as usual, and laughing at the silly conversations you’re having with him. it seems like there’s nothing strange... 

he says your name. you respond, “eh?” and then:

“with a heavy noise, a wad of bills falls from my hands and lands on the table.” 

at the mountain of bundles of bills that appeared suddenly in front of your eyes, you look taken aback and freeze. “wha...?” you say. 

“what do you want to do with this?” kazu asks. 

you, whose eyes widened for an instant, laugh as you immediately understood that he means it as a challenge. then, you peek into his face, eyes glimmering with mischief. 

you: “okay... i’ll spend [the money] on time with you”

oh? kazuomi says. so, just an hour maybe? you say. even though you’re together like this, you still want his time (time with him). 

“really, what a cutie. you know very well what to say to make me happy”

falskfjls kazuomi is literally LOVESTRUCK he’s so crazy for you. like sure he’s charming and charismatic and smooth but he’s basically a lovestruck Softe teenage boy on the inside for you. 

kazuomi thinks that it’s not just about what words you think will make him happy. when you speak your true feelings, they’re revealed by the expression displayed on your face. that’s why he can’t get enough of you. time spent with him? that might be just what you need. 

at the moment that kazuomi tries to make a date suggestion - 

“but at this rate, is it even possible to buy you for an hour? you’ve been especially busy lately, your time must be pricey, no?” 

you show a lonely expression for just a moment, but before kazuomi could understand the meaning, you laugh and shrug. 

“or whatever. it’s a joke”

“a joke, huh...” kazuomi says. 

“yeah, i don’t think i could buy your time for any amount of money,” you say. “by the way, what is this actually about? a new game?”

“...yeah, something like that,” kazuomi says. 

you immediately withdraw your lonely expression, but on the contrary it shows that there’s “something” up. 

“you're better than anyone at becoming someone else, so when you show me your true face for just a moment, it stirs up my heart” 

;laskjflsd kazuomi why you so cute!!!

kazuomi wonders what the reason was for your lonely face and “that act”. just now, you said you’ll “buy my [kazuomi’s] time” and “my time is expensive because i’ve been so busy lately”. those must be your true feelings, but you’ve had to hide your true face immediately. 

“are you holding back from me?”

“i’ll take in all of your selfishness”

he’s basically saying he’ll indulge her in anything she wants 🥰

“when’s your next holiday?” kazuomi asks. 

“a complete off day. give me a day where you won’t be disturbed neither by work nor your owner*****”

*****owner = the boss. the word used is the word you’d use for like a dog owner/animal keeper lmao

“umm... next week,” you answer. “so... what's the deal?”

“i’m giving you one of my days as a present”

your hand that’s holding a wine glass stops moving as you’re taken aback. 

“you get the right to monnopolise me for the whole day. it’s pretty attractive, right?” 

i love how cocky kazu sounds about all this as if he hasn’t literally been stressing about this for DAYS lmao!!

you: “can you say that about yourself?”

“but why so suddenly... aren’t you busy? you can’t just take a break,” you say. 

“山は越えた“ replies kazuomi, which i think means he’s basically saying that the worst of it has passed already? (literally he’s crossed the mountain). “if the other party is my dear lover, i can adjust my schedule as much as i’d like. and spending a whole day with you won’t cost me, right?”

“...really?” you say. 

“yeah. i swear i’ll make you satisfied with the time.” 

you set the glass down and a happy smile spreads across your face. “i’m looking forward to it,” you say. 

“yeah,” kazuomi agrees. 

“after only just now seeing you smile from the bottom of your heart, i breathed a sigh of relief” 

--

and that’s the end of chapter 3! ;laksdfjl he’s so WORRIED he’ll literally do anything to make you happy~ i’m crying. i love that kazu always pretends he’s so chill and cocky but he’s actually like frantically paddling under the calm surface to make sure you’re satisfied with him and feeling genuinely content and happy, even going as far as to deal with yuzu and kei questioning whether or not he can get erections/get hard enough lmao!!

i’ve set up a ko-fi page here and would be incredibly grateful if you would like to support me for translations and being able to purchase more routes to recap in english!

click here for chapter 4

[astyle-alex]

[FanFic] Start with Why | the Old Guard

This chapter just went live on Ao3, so I’m putting it up here too! I’ll still be posting the BatFam Kid!Fic, too, but that chapter will go up tomorrow!

Start With Why    (Part 4 / 6)

Fandom: the Old Guard  Pairings: Background Nicky x Joe Characters / Focus: OT5 + Copley, reacting to Booker's betrayal Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None (well, language, because the team are all quite colorful) Total Word Count: 10,288 Chapter Word Count: 1,535

Summary:

The thing about betrayal is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts too much to see the broader situation clearly. But after Booker's betrayal, the team has to look at themselves and see how every one of them is culpable. Booker may have done the deed, but his measly 200 years makes him a child to the others, especially Andy, and like babysitters are to blame when their charge sets the curtains on fire, the Family needs to ask themselves WHY and accept the honest answers. Why Copley, Why Merrick, and Why something made Booker believe that his choice was the right one for his Family...

-----

||  Read on Patreon  |  Read on Ao3  ||

Part IV :: Joe

           Booker betrayed him.

           His brother betrayed them.

           Joe’s own blood-oath brother of Fate betrayed them all like none of it mattered and he put Joe’s own sweet soul under the knife of callous torment, because he was too jealous and too weak and too short-sighted to know better.

           Because he was too young to know better.

           Nicky and Andy and Nile have all somehow resolved that they can forgive him— either they have already or know that they will, soon enough, come to it in time.

           Joe cannot begin to fathom it.

           Andy says Booker was a teenager trying to commit suicide and accidentally burning down the house, that he failed to see any of the realest consequences in his actions.

           Nile says he’d simply found something that helped him see a sort of goodness he could finally believe in; says he met Copley, found a kindred spirit who believed in him, and wanted to do something good that actually gave him back some tangible reward— selfish bastard.

           Even Nicky, Joe's own dear Nicolò, has fallen for the forger’s petty peddling.

           Nicky believes him, believes that his reasons for nearly destroying everything good about Yusuf’s whole world were good enough reasons to make him truly think it could be worth it.

           Joe will not forgive him, not ever. He has resolved to it, resolved to carry the hatred that the others cannot bear to shoulder. He will carry all of it for them, hate Booker for them. So, they can let the weight that comes from hating him so thoroughly rest outside their ardent souls.

           For a moment, Joe isn’t sure he will survive it.

           Hating Booker is like hating his own foot, like hating the run of charcoal his own fingers managed to get into his watering eye.

           Booker is Family, Booker is his brother.

           For a moment, Joe is very sure he will not survive this.

           But then he looks at Nicky, his unfailingly kind and sweet beloved, his so-forgiving Nicolò, and hears the echoes of his dying screams on that bitch Kozak’s table… He sees shadows of Nicky’s brains being stepped in by the boot of that degenerate Keane after he’d shot Nicky in the head… And Joe feels such a blindingly hot fury at the prospect of letting anyone connected to that horror dare to live that he wants to find a way to kill Booker dead himself.

           And yet, he’d hate to give the bastard what he wants.

           Yusuf cannot talk to Booker, cannot stomach even thinking about it.

           When he pushes up from the table, he doesn’t face the window when he storms away— instead, he goes outside the other way, tromping down onto the old cobbles that he’d been around to watch be laid. Most of them have been replaced since then.

           Nicky appears beside him, eventually, as he finds one of the very few original stones left.

           The love of Yusuf’s life doesn’t say anything, doesn’t touch him, doesn’t do anything but exist and be there and Joe already feels better for it— feels slightly more himself.

           Which breeds a guilt like no other.

           Nicky is here, but if were up to Booker, he wouldn’t be.

           Nicky being here shouldn’t be what lets Joe not hate Booker for almost taking him away.

           “That traitor’s head should be cut off,” Joe announces with a violent hand gesture that probably hasn’t been genuinely rude in a few hundred years. “Repeatedly, until it sticks.”

           Nicky gives a slow blink that Joe finds inconsolably unreadable.

           “I would’ve cut my own arm off, even if I knew it would not grow back, before I let a stranger say a bad word of him,” Joe wails. “I would have died, for good, to save him. I would have let myself leave you.”

           Nicky does not say anything, he simply lets his sad eyes overflow with sympathy and understanding for how much just existing in this nightmare hurts.

           “I hate him, Nicky,” Joe says, at a loss for words, a true rarity for him in his thousand years of life. “I hate him, and I hate that I hate him, but I hate the idea of not hating him even more than I hate this feeling.”

           “You cannot hate him anymore than he hates himself,” Nicky states, and Joe feels like he’s been wrapped in a hug he didn’t know he needed, though Nicky’s hands are still in his pockets and he’s standing nigh on three full meters yet away.

           Nicky will forgive him for hating Booker, Joe knows that.

           He might not approve of the vitriol Joe bears their brother, certainly disapproves of the claim that any of that hatred is on Nicky's behalf, but Nicky will forgive him for it.

           It makes Joe hate Booker even more.

           “Your God is the vengeful one,” Joe accuses suddenly, hating himself even as the words fall from his lips. “Allah would never seek to add more suffering to this world, but your god should have filled you with His righteous fury.”

           It was supposed to be an accusation, but Joe regrets it too much before he even speaks it to have managed to make the words come out with any barbs.

           Instead it’s made a few tears squeeze out from the corners of his eyes.

           “There is no righteousness in fury,” Nicky says, pulling the last dregs of wind from Joe’s sails with the simple and beautiful eloquence of the Divine.

           Joe trembles, hands in fists, wishing he had Booker’s nose to break instead of just his own poor heart as Nicolò meets his gaze, unwavering.

           “You and I have grown passed the banalities of organized religion, poorly built by broken men,” Nicky states eventually. “We fall back on scripture only when the doubt is fierce enough to quench the fire of our souls, but our souls are not like charcoal. We are not done burning once our fire has been made damp. The spark will reignite again, eventually, and we have our sure salvation in that we are blessed with time enough secured to wait until it does.”

           “He killed Andy,” Yusuf wails, the only ember of his pain left burning.

           At this, Nicky hardens— leans a fraction of an inch away.

           To Yusuf, that fraction feels like miles and eternities.

           “No, Yusuf. He did not,” Nicky states surely. “He shot her, fully expecting that she’d heal. Her time is her time, and it is not Booker’s Fate to bring her to it. Already, even having shot her, he did not stumble upon her time inadvertently. Even unaware that she could not heal, he did not introduce her to her Ferryman. All he tried to do was slow her down a little— In hope that he could somehow convince her if he explained.”

           It’s a revelation to Joe, a reframing of the situation that actually matters.

           It’s the difference between watching a sunrise through a window and seeing the full glory of it on the endless horizon of a jewel-toned desert.

           Booker declared that he’d killed Andy.

           He’d directly incited the wrath he believed he was due.

           And Joe had given him his full fury for it.

           Shame floods him, completely enough to snuff out the fury and turn it purely to despair.

           “He still was willing to make me sacrifice you for his own pathetic reasons,” Joe says, feeling hollowed out and raw in a way he cannot fathom how to deal with. Just as he cannot fathom how the others have a depth of soul that can forgive such a heinous betrayal as Booker’s.

           “I cannot forgive him,” Joe announces, “I cannot believe I will forgive him. Ever.”

           “I’ll believe it for you,” Nicky supplies. “I’ll remind you who you are right now is not always all that you can be, and I will love every version of you I meet between this version and the one I know will come eventually— the one who will forgive his brother.”

           Yusuf crumbles. His Nicolò still does not embrace him, but his soft smile props Joe up as steady as any arm might do.

           “I hate him, Nicky,” Yusuf says, shuddering as he exorcises the vile sentiment from his soul. His voice is hardly strong enough to call a whimper. “I hate him more than I have ever hated anything, than I have ever hated you. I cannot breathe, I hate him so.”

           “This will not kill you,” Nicky declares, “Your death is mine.”

           It’s an old promise between them, sometimes an oath of self-righteous possession, from they each believed it was their Fate to kill the other, and sometimes it's a promise of a deep despair at the potential of the Veil dividing them.

           Today, it makes Joe feel invincible— something he’d forgotten that he was.

           He gives Nicky his own weak smile.

           “My death is yours,” he says. Yusuf will never leave Nicky unless Nicky lets him go, Allah could not mean for them to be apart unless Nicky could truly bear it. And vice versa.

           “As yours is mine,” Joe finishes.

           Nicky offers Joe his hand and, together, they go back inside.

- - - - -

NEXT TIME: It’s NILE’s turn to try to find some sense in this chaos!

||  Read on Patreon |  Read on Ao3  ||

[jamiebluewind]

D20 Riz, Gorgug, and Ragh

Dear god you just asked for a bunch of um didn't you!? XD

Riz

Favorite thing about them: How much he's grown as a person. He's gone from someone who viewed friends as just something to make people comfortable to help him solve mysteries to willingly giving up all his secrets to the enemy to save his friend's life! 

Least favorite thing about them: For all his skills, he can be a little oblivious at times.  

Favorite line: oh god. There are so many good ones! (to Fabian) "Don't tell anyone about this! I'm doing this because of you! You figured it out. We need to go in his ass! Fabian and Riz... Don't worry Fabian. I'll do it for both of us!", (to Kalvaxus) "I don't know how long it's gonna take me, but I'm gonna eat YOU bitch", and (to Calina) "I dont think now is the time to get nostalgic. I wanna know that my friends are okay. My father's already gone. If you want information, you would have to... I would need to know that they were safe. "

brOTP: with Adaine. They are the braincells of the group. I also like with Fabian both romantic and platonic.

OTP: with Fabian. My favorite romantic ship in Fantasy High ^_^

nOTP: with Biz (also Kristen, but that's more because I always try to respect canon sexualities)

Random headcanon: goblins can eat anything, but their dietary needs are similar to grasshopper mice. Riz is actually tall for a goblin at 4 foot tall, but seems short due to his friend group. 

Unpopular opinion: I think Riz is neurodivergent and either has mild autism, OCD, and/or ADHD. It explains his love of coffee (it can help neurodivergent people focus and is often used to replace meds in younger people), his fixations, his issues in social situations and trouble making friends, and his difficulty keeping a sleep schedule. I have OCD, my best friend has mild autism, and I have friends and relatives with ADHD and I see a lot of what we deal with in him.

Song i associate with them: Hand In My Pocket by Alanis Morissette and Tiptoe by Imagine Dragons

Favorite picture of them. As there are very few canon pieces (and no animated gifs when I search for any of the characters), I'm just gonna link a couple of my favorite fanarts for each ^_^

Gorgug

Favorite thing about them: His kindness and empathy. He's a barbarian sure, but he uses all his agressive energy to protect the people he cares about and the rest of the time he strives to be this pure being of understanding and good.

Least favorite thing about them: His shoes and matching socks. Not even kidding. That color is terrible even among pink. I don't know if it's worse if he bought them that way or they somehow got stained that color!

Favorite line: "Are you my dad", (to Ragh) "It's okay to think that you're your own dad," and (to the Owlbear while flying and screaming) "Fight me in the skys!"

brOTP: with Fig

OTP: with Zelda and/or Ragh

nOTP: with Fig

Random headcanon: The fight with Biz aged him 2 years. His tusks only poke out of his mouth when he smiles.

Unpopular opinion: I think Zelda was a bit unfair to Gorgug. If he still sees himself as an awkward loser despite being on the bloodrush team and a rock star, then he probably has social anxiety and self esteem issues that need to be addressed. He rushed off and forgot to say goodbye to her, but he did message her the night before and never got a response, so it could have been misinterpreted as needing space. The stop at the mall wasn't just because there was time, but to try and find their missing friends. I don't think anyone should be mad at either of them though because they are just teenagers trying their best.

Song i associate with them: People by AWOLNATION, All Star by Smash Mouth, and Monster by Dev

Favorite picture of them

Ragh

Favorite thing about them: his level of baby gay. He has basically nuked his closet from space and I love it. Also, how much love he has for his mom.

Least favorite thing about them: his level of hoot growl

Favorite line: "Let's do it! I'M GAY NOW!!!" (while leaping up to attack Kalvaxus after he got kissed at prom). He has other great lines, but THAT is my favorite.

brOTP: with Tracker or Fabian

OTP: with Gorgug (or maybe Fabian)

nOTP: with Dayn

Random headcanon: His room was so overflowing with pride stuff and bloodrush stuff that some of it migrated to the rest of the house. He totally brought a few Owlbear and rainbow items with him on the mission.

Unpopular opinion: That it is possible to say Hoot Growl! too much.

Song i associate with them: ...I honestly can't think of any please help! I even listened to my music on shuffle for a while and nothing came up that worked O_O

Favorite picture of them:

[supremeuppityone]

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: Casablanca

Author’s note: This was inspired by Ricky Gervais’ 2020 Golden Globes monologue, in which he thoroughly pissed me off.

Warning: Potential triggers; implied assault survivor

Please review here.

           Red. Everything was red. The rage sank into Caroline’s bones until nothing was left. From the uncomfortable murmurs of the rest of the audience, it was clear that she wasn’t the only one furious with Alaric Saltzman’s patronizing speech to open the Oscars ceremony.

           “If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a political platform to make a political speech. You're in no position to lecture the public about anything, you know nothing about the real world. So, if you win, come up, accept your little award, thank your agent and your God and fuck off.”

           There were so many things wrong with the washed-up comedian’s vile statement, that Caroline let out an audible gasp, not bothering to let her features settle back into a polite mask. Her agent was going to be pissed if the cameras happened to catch her now. But it was nothing compared to how pissed Katherine would be in a little while. As a nominated filmmaker, Caroline understood she was in a unique position to make a call for social change. And as one of the few female filmmaker nominees, it was her responsibility. She covertly took out her phone, typing a quick message to her staff, and then leaned back into her seat with a self-satisfied grin. Game on.  

           Her documentary focused on Congolese women who were taking back their communities torn apart by sexual violence. It was her honor to give voice to the warrior women who had created safe spaces for women — teaching them self-defense, providing legal representation, and fostering marketable skills.

           She toyed with the orange and red bracelet, hiding a bittersweet smile as she recalled the way some of the women at the community center had attempted to teach her how to make the rolled-up paper beads. It was the day she shared her story with them. Her pain had been her own for so long. She’d nearly punched Katherine for telling her the bracelet clashed with her designer gown and that she should instead go with the loan from Bulgari.

           The back of Caroline’s neck prickled as though she could feel the weight of someone’s stare. Casually glancing around the packed theater, her blue eyes widened when she realized Klaus Mikaelson was staring at her. Wildly famous, the dimpled British actor’s mantle must be overflowing with prestigious Oscars, BAFTAs and Golden Globes. Why was he staring at her? Again. Despite years in the industry, this was the first awards season her work had garnered enough attention to warrant nominations. And unwanted attention from A-listers.

            A few months ago, she’d attended the Directors Guild Awards, slightly starstruck and still in disbelief that her work was finally getting recognition. She nervously was sipping champagne when someone insistently tapped her shoulder. Familiar with many of the more heinous Hollywood Gropers, she whirled around, ready to shred some wrinkled, self-entitled balls. She stopped short when she realized it was a skinny teenager who somehow managed to look even more nervous than she.

           “Um. Hi! So, um I think you’re Caroline Forbes. Right?”

           Caroline softened, assuming his painfully earnest demeanor meant he was an intern or one of the stage assistants. Her smile was gentle as she said, “Yes, I’m Caroline. What’s your name?”

           Brown eyes went round with excitement as he took both of her hands in his, wildly shaking them up and down as he gushed, “I’m Henrik and I go to USC and we just studied you in my Defining the Feminine Narrative class!”

           Flustered, she could feel an enormous smile spread across her face. It was rare that she encountered someone who knew who she was. Now what? Offering to sign something or pose for a photo sounded unbelievably pretentious. “Oh, wow. Thank you,” she finally said, “I had no idea.”

           “I’m actually um, doing a research paper right now on your documentary about dowry-related violence in India,” he shyly confessed, hiding behind his long brown hair.

           “Seriously?! I just started cataloguing some additional footage; trying to decide if there’s another story to tell. If you want to give me your email, I’d be happy to share my research with you. Maybe it will inspire you to create something amazing.”

           Before Henrik could respond, an unexpected voice interrupted, “Impressive chat-up lines, little brother.”

           Klaus stood there with his sexy dimpled grin that always spelled box office gold. And he’d been poured into that tuxedo. Damn. “Klaus Mikaelson,” he said, as though she hadn’t watched every movie he ever made, “and I had no idea Henrik was such a fan.” He put a companionable arm around the timid boy, telling her, “Henrik’s the true talent in the family. Thank you, love, for noticing.”

           He eyed her with interest, and she immediately reddened, cursing her painfully white skin for making every emotion so obvious. “These ceremonies are so frightfully dull. Would you like to join us at our table, and then perhaps later, you and I could go for a drink?”

           Damn it. He was one of those guys. Now flushed with irritation rather than embarrassment, Caroline replied, “You should ask Tatia. It’s only polite — since she’s your date.” Lately, the gossip sites had exploded with headlines gushing about the whirlwind romance between Klaus and the stunning supermodel, Tatia Petrova. Even if there was the chance it was a clever ruse to garner media attention, there was no way Caroline wanted any part of that nonsense.

           Klaus flashed that dimpled smirk again, his accented voice amused as he said, “Tatia is more of an...inconvenience than a permanent fixture in my life. There’s only so much frivolous chatter I can tolerate. But I suspect that you would provide endlessly fascinating conversation, sweetheart. You’re starting to make a name for yourself with all those exotic travels and penchant for saving the world. There’s a light that shines in you; it sets you apart from the rest.”

           He was seriously giving her the ‘you’re not like other girls’ speech. Dick. “Pass,” she said flatly, already starting to walk away. “But thanks for adding bad pickup lines to my ever-growing list of atrocities I need to save the world from.”

            Thunderous applause interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Where Klaus was still staring at her rather than paying attention to the clip they were showing from his nominated performance. His performance in the Casablanca remake had earned him the Best Actor nomination, with critics and media outlets proclaiming his work in the big budget production to be a crowning achievement in his stellar career. Despite her indifference to the original 1940s movie, she still eagerly went to see Klaus’ remake, and his performance as the expat Rick had left her breathless. His American accent had been impeccable, and she actually got a bit teary-eyed when he arranged for his onscreen love interest, Lisa, to board the plane to safety while he stayed behind.

           Caroline could feel the heat rising in her cheeks the longer Klaus stared at her, irritated at herself for paying far too much attention to the gossip sites that announced Klaus’ amicable split almost immediately following their disastrous first encounter. She did not have time for Hollywood fuckboys. Even the ones with dimples. She had a world to save. Lost in her thoughts of burying her stupid crush on Klaus, she completely missed that he’d apparently won and was being herded offstage.

           She leaned forward eagerly as her documentary category was called. Regardless of the winner, her documentary had garnered enough attention that a few months ago, she’d learned an anonymous donation singlehandedly funded the Congolese women’s charity for the next decade. It was rare that people surprised her. Maybe one day she’d learn the identity of the generous donor. While the vignettes played for each nominee, her heart giving a funny little tweak as she held her breath in anticipation.

           “And the winner for best documentary feature is...Conflicted Hearts: Congolese Women Fight Back, by Caroline Forbes!”

           The thunderous applause was deafening, and Caroline sat there in shock for several moments, unable to get her legs to move. When she finally managed to walk to the stage on shaky legs, she fervently hoped she hadn’t sweated through her Arcadius original. She cringed as Alaric grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him for a congratulatory kiss that she managed to avoid by jerking her head away. He should know better. Hazel eyes flashed as he angrily hissed, “Just smile for the camera and keep the whole ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting’ bullshit out of it. No one cares about your whiny politics.”

           She burned him with her gaze, the oranges and reds of her gown a perfect backdrop for her fiery rage. Not bothering to respond to his unspoken threat, she stepped to the podium, pleased to be bathed in the stage lights, drawing energy from their warmth. “I’ve now been told twice tonight not to get political. It’s stupid to think I’m going to start following orders now. We’re some of the most fortunate people in the world. We have an extraordinary platform that allows us to reach millions. And it’s our responsibility to use it. We live in this world too and we should be working just as hard as anyone to make it better.”

           The loud clapping sounded like vindication, and she hoped that the cameras were zooming in on Alaric’s face as it immediately purpled in anger. “My film is dedicated to the Congolese women who let me into their world, whose unparalleled strength gave me the courage to put into words my own trauma. They are warriors, and I hope that the anonymous donor who helped fund their women’s charity for the next decade understands the hope they’ve given to so many.”

           Her smile was a vicious blade as she announced, “Thriving in front of my bullies is sometimes the whole reason why I get out of bed. I just started a charity tonight because I know I can’t be the only woman who’s been told to keep ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting bullshit out of it’. My organization will help women speak out about sexual harassment and assault in the workplace, providing much-needed legal assistance and support to help them overcome the personal and professional consequences that make it difficult to speak out. It’s called ‘CARE’.”

           The standing ovation was immensely satisfying, but then she added, “And it stands for Condescending Asshats Refuse to Evolve’,” which had the theater shouting her name excitedly. Not a bad night.

           As Caroline was ushered backstage, she basked as so many warm smiles and enthusiastic handshakes congratulated her, pausing only once to catch Alaric’s furious expression. She held his gaze just as fiercely, pouring out every viscous word she wasn’t ready to speak. But one day she would be.

           Backstage, she nearly ran over Klaus. Flushed from his own win, he beamed at her while offering her a steadying hand. “Congratulations, love. Your win was well-deserved, and I don’t recall a more compelling speech. You’ve set a precedent tonight that undoubtedly will bring about much-needed change.”

           She blushed to the roots of her hair, wishing she hadn’t worn the intricately plaited hairstyle so she could give her hands something to do. “Uh, thanks, and you too. Your work in Casablanca was amazing.”

           “You saw my movie?”

           Caroline was taken aback by his hopeful, pleased tone. “I’ve seen all of your movies. Everyone has.”

           “I’ve seen yours too,” he confessed, ducking his head shyly. “Henrik is quite the fan and has all of your documentaries — even the one you created fresh out of film school where you exposed the hypocrisy of a ‘morality clause’ for beauty pageant contestants in your hometown.”  

           “Seriously?!” She gaped at him, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t thought about that in years. That documentary had gotten the attention of several groups, which eventually led to funding for bigger projects and more exposure to the causes that she was the most passionate about. “I had no idea that you’d...I mean, I’m flattered you took the time to watch my films.”  

           The tips of his ears reddened as Klaus replied, “Meeting you was a bit of a revelation for me. Your drive, your fearlessness at giving people a platform so their voices and stories can be told — it’s inspiring. It made me want to make some changes in my life, which I started doing several months ago.”

           “I had no idea. I’m, uh, glad to have helped. Can I ask about the changes?”

           “Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” he answered enigmatically. “In the meantime, I’d be honored if you would accept my donation to your CARE charity. I’m doing my best to be a reformed condescending asshat.”  

[love-takes-work]

I got the updated, colorized Pug Davis last week but I forgot to tell y’all about it. Here we go.

Pug Davis originally existed in little individual self-made comics Rebecca Sugar made for cons. It was picked up by Albatross Exploding Funnybooks because Eric Powell saw something in Rebecca that stood out. The black and white graphic novel with cover by Eric Powell has been hard to find for a while. Now I have both!

I reviewed the original Pug Davis a while back if you want to see that. For now, I’m going to just tell you a few things I noticed that were different.

Obviously: The cover is a Rebecca Sugar drawing now, and the comics inside are colored instead of black and white. Colorist is Rachael Cohen, with lettering by Rebecca herself and Warren Montgomery, edits by Tracy Marsh and Eric Powell, design by Phil Balsman. 

A new introduction: An intro by Rebecca warning kids away from it and putting it into context as “an underground comic by a teenager” has replaced the original intro by Eric Powell explaining what he’d seen in Rebecca all those years ago. 

Transcript of intro:

I’d like to start by putting this book into context: This is an underground comic by a teenager!

If you are a fan of my current work, please know THIS IS NOT FOR KIDS! This is a formative comic that I drew in college, from 2006 to 2007. Please look at this artifact through that lens.

Here’s the backstory:

I had been drawing comics since middle school, and in high school, I teamed up with my best friend, Frans Boukas, to make our own imprint, SugarBoukas Comics. We drew comics together, and with the help of my graphic designer dad, we printed and stapled zines at his office and then took them to local comic cons to trade and to give to our heroes.

I had a comic idea called Bonnie and Jess, about lesbian bodyguards traveling the country, helping people and fighting people. Bonnie and Jess bonded because they were both fans of a comic called Pug Davis. Pug started as a comic-within-a-comic, a stand-in for my favorite comics at the time: The Goon, Hellboy and BPRD. I never ended up making Bonnie and Jess (though I reused many ideas from it in later projects), but I did make Pug. I threw it online unceremoniously (the website had the tagline "In Pug Davis, No One Can Hear You Pug Davis"), and I tabled with it at SPX, Otakon and MoCCA, selling very, very few copies.

Pug never quite had a place to live. It didn't fit with indie comics, but was too raw to come off as mainstream. While the covers promised space adventures and ray guns, the interiors were actually emotional stories about Pug and the Blouse. I wanted to put my spin on the antihero and the "gay sidekick," and have the adventures take a back seat to the moments they shared privately, worrying about each other and themselves. When I look back on it, I'm alarmed by how honest it is under all the sci-fi tropes and goofy action schtick I was lovingly emulating. I put a lot of myself into the characters, especially into the Blouse ... the way his naiveté gets him into trouble, and how he can't help but be himself no matter how much he's punished for it. The Blouse can't quite tell if Pug actually wants him around, and he can't shake the feeling that he's a burden. But he's so proud just to be there, to know Pug personally, and to care about him more than anyone else. So much of this is how I felt during the mid-2000s--trying to break into comics, trying to fit in at art school, navigating sexist jokes and homophobic slurs, and quietly hoping my heroes and peers actually wanted me to be there instead of begrudgingly tolerating my presence.

I wish I could have joyfully, unapologetically expressed myself at age 18, but I just wasn't there yet, so Pug will always be bittersweet. Trapped in this book is my overflowing love for comics and the fantasy that comics might love me back, even if comics would never admit it in public. 

But the end of the story is that my fantasy came true. I gave this book to Eric Powell, and he loved it for what it was. He gave me my first job in comics (a short backup in The Goon), and he published Pug Davis through Albatross Exploding Funnybooks in 2010. Now he's doing it again, almost a decade later--and in full color, thanks to the brilliant Rachael Cohen.

Thank you for reading,

RS --Rebecca Sugar

What else is new?

This block was originally empty. Now it has this sweet love note to her parents, her brother, her best friend, her partner, and her readers.

The color stuff occasionally makes me pretty sure I prefer the evocative grayscale Rebecca’s so known for:

But sometimes the color really does make it pop, you know?

I love both!

The new version has these nifty tables of contents, sorta:

And, to my utter delight, it has this:

Bonus content! Bonus content!

Some really cool SKETCHES from the Pug Davis era! Please buy this. Wow.

And there are some comic panels without their words too!

I had a great time checking out this version of it and you will too. :)

[c-atm]

jambud week: Alone/together prompt

Alone/ Together 

  "And that's how I got the red and black."

"Oh my god!"

It was a beautiful setting; Sunset in a field of sunflowers under a large tree casting shade over the two dream jam buds. Connie was sitting up, back to the tree with Steven laying his head  across her lap, telling her about his travels. Particularly, how he got his new red and black star shirt; it involves a goat, a flame, and a game of extreme hopscotch with an old man. The story had Connie in hysterics, doubling over in laughter. Just low enough for Steven to.. 

" Chu!"

"Ey, Bisky!"

Steal Connie lips for a second, making her blush before, pushing her hair behind her ear and giving him a bit longer one that his thieving move. When they broke apart  Connie rested her head upon his.

"Is it foolish to still not believe this is real? To be with you here, like this."

"After 10 months. Maybe...Heh, but take into account everything that happened before...Can't  really blame you, Dream Berry."

Connie couldn't stop the giggle that erupted from her from the new name. ten months,they have been meeting and seeing each other like this for ten months..and it's been wondrous. Meeting in their own personal dream once or twice a month. Trading stories with each other.

Connie told stories of her college studies in STEM and archeological studies, as well as her internship at a technological lab in Empire, and her part in creating a R&D in Little Homeworld. In her own words; She was doing her part to connect human and gemkind.

Steven told stories of his travels. The misadventures he had. The people he met, the people he helped, the people who helped him and the lessons he learned. The most important one was  accepting and embracing all of himself; the good, the bad, the surface, and the hidden.

Steven found her stories to be amazing. The things she were learning were completely over his head, but still it made her eyes glow with such vigor when she spoke about the robotics exhibition she went to, and her intro to physics class. He mentally decided to study it up himself, just a bit. If she really was gonna use technology to bring Humans and Gems closer, the least he could do was understand a bit of it. 

Actually tonight He also found himself surprised though when she spoke of her archeological studies. Her professor seemed to be someone who was big the mysteries of the world. Myths, legends...Conspiracies. In one particular  tale her professor brought some items from their personal collections. They happened to be discarded gem weapons, and one inactive but intact gem artifact, that he was going to officially reveal at a museum event.

Connie held her head in embarrassment, as Steven laughed as she told the story of getting the gems to run a heists to steal her teachers prize possession and switch it with a fake. It  seemed like it was a disastrous..but hilarious night.

"I missed a caper! A heist..You guys, even went undercover as staff"

"We almost got arrested."

"But you got away with it! Dream Berry! You lead a gem mission, cleared your objective and no one got hurt."

"Physically...the museum director's reputation took a hit...Still thank god, for that rat like gem mutant..Gave us a perfect chance to make the switch through all the commotion."

As for Connie, she was enthralled with Steven's tales of his world wide search for humanity, as he called it. So much more exciting and wondrous than her day to day. He's been to all types of locales; the Amazon, Stonehenge, the Great wall, Victoria fall, The castle of nobunaga. He went to Sri lanka, Maharagama to be exact and stayed with one of her Uṟaviṉar (cousins) for a few days.

 That particular story had her flushed and embarrassed, since it was one of her cousins who treated her like a niece; turns out Connie's one of the babies of the family.

Still his most telling stories were his visits to his mother's palanquin; he had visited a few times actually… The first time he went was out of blind rage..He left as soon as he came..The second time was just out of drunken coincidence. He told her about how he lashed out over her memory. Screaming how he hated everything she did and how cruel and untrusting and selfish she was, to not take any responsibility and to leave it all to him. He doesn't remember when he left but the next time he visited, there was a two feet crater nearby..

That time...He was tired and feeling a bit sick after getting out of a fight with a gem mutant. He didn't have the energy to do anything but step in the device and sleep. He did it for five days. 

During that time he got to experience it...His mother life as Rose quartz….All her choices, all the guilt, all the hollow victories..All the self- detrimentally and hate. For all the gems that were corrupted, for all the humans who got caught in crossfire, for her actions and inactions towards Bismuth and Spinel. 

He experienced her failures. Failure in trying to cure corruption. Failure In trying to understand and imitate human nature.  Failure in trying to release and apologize to Bismuth. Failure in trying to reactivate the galaxy warp to get Spinel. Failure to heal the earth. Multiple failures on all ends. Enough to make Rose self-dissipate and him to wake up.

From that point on, he would always sleep in it when he was in Korea. Every time he got new information. He discovered that she actually spent a good decade playing as a human named 'Diamond' after her self poofing. Blending in with them and going on her own journey of self-discovery. Falling in love with the earth and its inhabitants more, keeping them safe from the shadows from her own (while purposely allowing herself to be cracked), while invading her Crystal Gems. 

He also experienced two very important meetings in Rose's life. Her first meeting with Lion....She was there for his birth. A few years later she would meet, heal, and forge a strong friendship with an orphaned teenage girl.

 For two years they would be inseparable, almost family and learned from each. Rose would teach her how to fight, how to care and outsmart people, and to take care of herself.

The young girl; Sheva, would teach Rose how to face her failures, to deal with the results of an irreversible situation, and how to live for those who can't. Two years in Sheva found love from a man, that Rose approved of...As for Rose, she would be missing her own family; their separation was tearfully, but happy..

This would not be the last time they would meet, though. His mother would find that Sheva had lived a fulfilling life, gave birth to three kids and still loving her husband from the Maheswaran family, He unfortunately got to see Sheva pass as well and his mother second self-dissipation, the only way she could keep herself  to resurrect her friend.

From there the visions became pretty standard to what heard from the gems and dad. Her victories, gentle and flighty behavior, her overflowing love for all, completely  earnest and true...except for herself. She still hated herself. He saw what she didn't show. The times in her room. where she shattered her image over and over and over, using the full, horrifying destructive power she held inside. 

For the corrupted. For the war. For the earth. For humanity. For The Crystal Gems. For Homeworld. For the Diamonds. For Bismuth. For Spinel. For Sheva. For both Pearls. For Garnet. For Amethyst. For Greg.

For being unable to save them. To heal them. To be like them. To convince them. To apologize to and live up to her expectations. To get her from the garden and be the friend she deserved. To forgive herself for not bringing her back. For hurting one and silencing the other. For lying to them. For being unworthy of him. She did it because she loved them,  all of them.

Never did she strike for herself though. No for her, destruction was her penance to them all. Which is why she smiled when she dissipated for the third time.

"I was in Korea two weeks ago...I don't think I'd be going back to mom's palanquin anymore "

Connie looked surprised at the sad yet serene tone of his voice. She nodded, as she began to stroke his scalp, running her fingers through his locks. "You wanna tell it, Dreamscuit?"

"It's..Heavy."

"Everyone of these stories has been heavy..I can take it...Though I don't want to force you to.."

He kissed her to stop that thought. "I'll tell, but can we get into the right position first?"

Connie  gave him a smil before letting him sit up and allowing her to stand up, wiping the hem of her night gown as she did. He moves to the tree and sits straight up crossed legged arms open. Connie  gently sits in between his thighs as he envelopes her in his loving, Steven-y hold. 

" Ok So…"

 The last vision he got..Was short but probably the most important..His birth. He was told that he was born in a hardlight Rose that bloomed and broke away leaving him with her gem and that took about five minutes total. The Vision was everything that happened within that rose.

His mother was tired, teary, but for the first time was generally happy as she spoke. 

" My boy..My son, my extraordinary Steven. You're so human...You're so much more than I ever was. I love you..I adore you so much..Not even a minute year old and you did the impossible.."

She shifted from Rose to Diamond before continuing with a tender weak kiss to his crown

" Your mother is a horrible failure...I hurt a lot of people Steven, whether it was indirectly or directly, For a good cause or my own greed, It happened and I never was able to correct my wrongdoings..I tried so hard but failed in the end.. I failed at being a diamond, a leader, a rebel, family, a friend, a mentor, a lover, a human, a gem, and in the end, I hated myself. Thought myself, a worthless shard.."

She let a strained laugh out as she shifted from Diamond to Pink.

"Until now. This moment. Until you. You're  proof that gems are capable of change. Of being more than what they were programmed. You...You are the proof of that, someone so beautiful and brilliant being born from a janked clod like me, that's proof enough.  "

She shifted again back to Rose. She broke down again as she heard for the first and only time her sons laugh.

"I love you so much, you're gonna be amazing and I'm so sorry that I won't ever get to be here for it...But it's alright..I actually don't deserve such a gift.. Seeing..you..Your curly hair, bright brown eyes, button nose, happy bubbly laughter. It makes everything worth it, even if it's at the end of my life. 

You've changed my life and the only thing I can leave for you is a magic pink diamond  untarnished by me..and my defects, yours and yours alone. I'm sorry your mother can't give you anything better."

  She shifted again to Diamond. 

"I'm selfish still, shapeshifting just to spend more time with you. I'm sure a good mother would've already given their form and lives up. Of course, I have to want to have you and live.. See you grow and blow the universe away..Find a good partner to spend your life with..preferably someone like your father or Sheva. A nice, smart, strong Maheswaran  person would be perfect for you…"

She painfully shifted to Pink

Still whomever you bring into your life...Whether it's as a friend, a lover..as family. Make sure they are worthy of you..and if they prove that they are...Take care of them. Those people who care for you, cry for you, keep you from going too far and make sure you know just how special you are because you're you...The people who treasure you..Take care of them no matter what.

She shifted slowly back to Rose Quartz for the final time. Trembling, tearfully giving her son one last kiss on his cheek on his cheek. She was surprised when he grabbed her finger and squeezed. 

"One more thing...Take care of yourself Steven. Always take time for yourself. If you ever need to leave and be by yourself you do that. It'll help more than you think.. and Never hold back..Be angry, be happy, be loving, be spiteful, be however, whoever you want and need  to be. Whatever you do don't hide yourself from those who love you...Don't be afraid to show them your hurt and pain. Don't become self-destructive as I was...Most of all..live happily..Live truthfully….Live your life Steven, with your gem and your family. You're human, You're extraordinary..You're, you ...and that more than enough."

Rose smiled though deep sobs as she fell from her form glitching as was the dome.

"This is it.. I hope that you never hear my name, Steven. I don't deserve such a gift..but If you do..if you find out about wrongs and decide to discard me, I will still love you..My wonderful son..My truest love of all. Thank you for being you. For allowing me just for a millisecond to feel worthy of something, and I'm sorry you were born of a mother like me, at least you'll have  those who are truly worthy of you around."

As she was about to kiss his cheek one last time, she and the dome vanished in a brilliant light. Leaving A newborn Steven crying and reaching towards, where his mother once stood. 

He woke up from his dream reaching out, and for the first time since childhood, begging for his mother.

By the time he was done telling his story, Steven was already in a hold by tearing Connie. His tears soaking her nightie, while her ls rained on his head as she kissed his head and caressed his trembling back. Hearing him call for his mother, to apologize for his bereavement towards her with a sorrowful love was both heartbreaking and hope bringing, but it was welcomed. It was a sign that he no longer felt lost, confused, or alone. It was proof that he was like her in some ways..but it was not her worse ones and he could move on from her knowing that. 

They didn't move for a while as Connie hummed sweet tunes in his ear. Easing him to relax breathing. He reluctantly moved from her hold and sat  up looking at his Dreamberry, whose eyes were just as teary as his. He cupped cheeks and tenderly kissed her beckoning a melty moan from her. He broke away before resting his forehead to hers

"Thanks Connie. For being here."

Seeing that glow in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. " Of course. Wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with you. Even if it's just a dreamscape for now."

He smiled as she kissed his neck before resting against his chest. Looking down at his Dreamberry he brushed her head as she fell into a small slumber..She'll wake up before she wakes up here….

"For now but not much longer."

[pollylynn]

Title: Aspect
 WC:  1200

She doesn’t mean to wander. There’s no real question of actually getting any sleep, but she means, at least, to stay in the guest room like a good . . .  well, guest. But her mind is cycling through too much to stay in the bed—too much even for the awkward tip-toe pacing she does a few times around the perimeter of the room.

She has considered and rejected every single book on the shelves, on and in the bedside tables. She’s examined every objet d’art on every horizontal surface. She’s practically memorized the framed pieces hanging on the walls, and she’s picked up, grinned over, and put back down again every overflow picture of Alexis, Martha and Alexis, him and Alexis that’s made its way here.

She’s made a thorough study of the honestly quite lovely room while loss and horror and frustration roll like thick, battleship clouds just beneath the surface of her restless mind. Dunn’s shrine, flames licking at irreplaceable photographs just like these, the photos of Gloria Rodriguez’s body, ghostly and mid-air translucent on the smart board in the War Room—it all rolls just beneath the surface. It overcomes all sense of propriety, all sense of shame at the very idea of wandering someone else’s house in the dead of night.

She crosses the threshold on the balls of her feet. She winds slowly, slowly down the hallway, not quite trailing the fingertips of one hand along the wall. She makes her way down the stairs and pauses, unsure of her destination. She thinks about the kitchen—about the boxes of tea he’s left out in case she wants them, but her feet strike out in another direction, across the living room. She luxuriates in the thick pile of the rug. She winds up at the piano.

It’s something she’s wondered about the dozen or so times she’s been here. Does he play? Does Alexis? Do they plunk out the standard four-hand version of “Heart and Soul” together? She’s wondered, but it’s not the piano itself that draws her tonight. It’s the dense forest of photos on top. She kneels up on the bench and carefully braces herself on the piano’s lid.

She cranes up to study the larger frames further back. Here’s Alexis as a chubby, alien-looking infant, and her again, looking serious as a toddler in the frilliest dress possible. And there she is as a little girl in sturdy-looking overalls with her hands full of autumn leaves. She tucks one leg underneath herself and leans in to peer closely at the tinier shots up front of the two of them smiling hard at the camera from a recital stage, from a mall Santa’s knee, from a muddy soccer field in front of the goal.

“Hey.” His voice is as soft as he can make it, but it’s the dead of night. The loft is absolutely silent, but for one syllable and the sound of her own breath. It should probably startle her, but it doesn’t. It seems inevitable. “What’s got you up?” He arrives next her as he says it. They share a knife’s-edge grin at the ridiculous question:  What doesn’t have her up?

“Jordan Shaw,” she says, even though he’s not really expecting an answer. Even though this answer, such as it is, is  just a tiny sliver of what’s cycling through her mind.

He regards her for a moment, too tired to be surprised. Or maybe, as ever, too interested in every last thing on her mind.

“Come on.” He nods toward the center of the living room and urges her up from the piano bench. “That’ll kill your back.” He leans over and leers. “And your butt."

He herds her on to the couch, snagging some kind of heavenly soft throw from the back and handing it to her before he settles into the wide chair nearby. It’s the one occupied by the large rag doll. She’s wondered about that, too. She fusses with the blanket to hide a grin as he hugs the doll to himself without a shred of self-consciousness.

“So.” He lets out a huge yawn. “Jordan Shaw. Not so understanding about getting kicked off the case after all?” He shoots her a conspiratorial look. “Do we need to take her down? I know a—” He stops and thinks about it. “Yeah, I definitely know a guy who can get dirt on her.”  

“No dirt.” She laughs quietly at the total picture of his bedhead, his bloodlust, and the floppy companion he’s still holding carefully on his lap. “I was just thinking about . . .” She shakes her head. “I feel stupid about her being a mom. Being surprised about it.”

“She’s not exactly cuddly,” he offers.

“But you weren’t surprised.” He gives a noncommittal shrug. “I shouldn’t have been surprised.” She worries the soft edge of the blanket between her fingers and sifts through what’s risen to the surface of her mind just now, why it’s this of all things that she’s bringing up. “My mom was like that. Totally driven, totally committed to her work.”

“And still a great mom.” The corners of his eyes crinkle up in a soft smile. “Tricky but possible.”

“A great mom.” That’s hard for her. Somewhere along the way it got harder to think about—to talk about—her mom’s life than her death. That’s what Special Agent Jordan Shaw, Mother Extraordinaire, has brought up tonight. That’s what this whole place—a shrine to father and daughter, mother and son—has brought up. “And my dad, too. They were a team, and I never—” She clears her throat.  “I think I was a teenager before I realized how busy they both were. All the time. But they never said no to anything. They never missed anything.”

“They did it together.” His smile loosens a little. Wistfulness creeps in as he makes the doll’s floppy arms dance a rapid patter across his thighs. “That’s possible, too, I hear.”


He rolls his eyes, making a joke of it, and she has to think hard to recall Meredith, stiff and posed and painfully aware of the camera, in her few appearances. Kate opens her mouth to . . . apologize or something, but his expression changes—it turns serious and a little shy.

“It’s always worth it.” He lifts a rag doll hand, along with his own, toward the forest of picture frames on the piano. “Whatever you have to do. It’s always worth it.”  

“My dad says that.” She has a vivid memory—a rapid-fire gallery, really—of her mom rushing up the bleachers, sliding into a seat in her high school auditorium with her briefcase barely closed. Worth it, Katie. Of course it’s worth it. “And my mom said it all the time.” She shakes her head. “Jordan . . . I don’t know why I was surprised.”

“It happens.” He shrugs again. “You think of people as one thing, but they’re lots of things. Everyone is.”

“Everyone is,” she repeats. She feels a curious cracking sensation inside. Not painful, exactly, but startling as the truth of it settles on him, on her, and on the two of them together. “Everyone.”

A/N: Hmmm.

images via homeoftheutty