#and I just thought we agreed there were other measures of success that were more important

[girlscience]

I don't know if my life is just extremely charmed. but listening to my coworkers talk is so bizarre to me? the way that money is the only measure of success or good life that they care about blows my mind. we are talking about furthering our education and the only thing they are looking at is how much the salary for that field pays. I understand money is important, but that's honestly not something I've given even more than a passing thought to with the programs I'm applying for? I just don't get it? We do science, don't you care more about the work than the money? Am I just blind because I haven't ever had money troubles? I don't know.

[yumeka-sxf]

My thoughts on Spy x Family: EYES ONLY Guidebook (English ver) - part 1

I finished reading through my copy of the English version of the SxF manga guidebook "EYES ONLY." There's tons of fantastic information about the series, but I wanted to share my thoughts/commentary on parts that were the most interesting to me. Since there's so much content to cover, I'll be dividing it into a few different posts. Also, rather than go in the order of the book's sections, I decided to group the content based on topic. This first post will cover Endo's comments about the characters individually, as well as information about Garden.

Endo's Q&As and comments about the characters

Loid:

I like that Endo provides a reason for why Loid wears a WISE logo pin as it's something more than one fan of the series has questioned! And I totally agree with Lin about his "lack of distinctive features." Compared to so many other anime characters, especially shonen main characters, Loid's design is so plain, particularly in his hair and clothes. At least in his spy outfit he has a gun to make him a little flashier, but when he's in his casual clothes, he literally just looks like "some guy," haha. But that also makes sense for his character.

I love how Endo gave specific numbers for comparing Loid and Yor's strength (Yor: 10, Loid: 6-7)

Anya:

I did notice what Endo is talking about how Anya's design changed over time. But that can be said for all the characters really, and it's definitely not uncommon for manga-ka's styles to evolve as they get a better feel for their characters and world.

He mentions the classical language thing that was also brought up in chapter 42. Definitely makes me think that will somehow tie into her backstory.

Speaking of Anya's backstory, there was this little excerpt about the researchers at the lab. So one thing we can say for sure about her past is that she was not treated well there at all (which has been hinted at in the series).

Endo also discussed the origin of Anya's pink hair (namely, there really isn't any origin, lol).

Yor:

Interesting that he spent the most time designing Yor, and also about the origin of her stilettoes. And his apology to the cosplayers for that bonus feature about Yor's hair, haha.

I had to chuckle when he said they can't measure her strength because she keeps breaking the instruments! Also the fact that she hasn't learned how to make a single successful meal since the stew…Endo is such a savage sometimes, lol. But keep in mind that this book was originally published over a year ago, and obviously we know from recent chapters that her cooking is improving. I also like that he mentions that she has left witnesses to her work, like in Extra Mission 2. I wonder if that will be a bigger plot point somewhere down the line.

Like Anya having pink hair, Endo expresses some regret about making Yor an assassin (but his laugh makes it clear he's not terribly hung up about it!)

Bond:

I know some people are bothered by the fact that Yor is Bond's least favorite. But I think Bond's (initial) dislike for her originated from the chapter where he assumes he would have died from her cooking. Also the fact that Anya put the idea in his head that she would "murder" him if he did something she didn't like, like shun her food (which is obviously heavily exaggerated). But again, this book was published over a year ago, and the most recent chapter revealed that he definitely doesn't dislike her even if she's not his favorite. It's perfectly normal for pets to have family members they prefer over others for whatever reason.

Franky:

I love that Franky does charity work. I hope we'll see that in a future chapter.

Fiona:

It's interesting that he ranks Fiona's combat ability so low, especially when you consider what she did to Wheeler in the recent arc. But to me, that wasn't so much a display of combat prowess as it was totally raw, uninhibited willpower.

Yuri:

I love his blunt answer about whether Yuri has other interests besides Yor. Also intriguing that he mentions Nightfall when discussing Yuri's combat ability…maybe those two will meet eventually?

Information about Garden

Since Garden is still such a mysterious entity in the SxF universe, I tried to gather everything about them that the book mentions.

It's interesting that Yor sees Shopkeeper as her mentor since he taught her survival skills in her youth. The book also raises the question about how Yor found Garden in the first place…maybe something Endo will expand on in the future?

So the information Franky gives us about Garden is exaggerated? Gah, that just makes them even more mysterious!

The above was a cool bit of trivia...so it seems like the secret police might know more about Garden than WISE. Perhaps Yuri will find out about Yor's real identity before Twilight?

Continue to Part 2 ->

[octuscle]

How times are changing….

2024, The Russian Tea Room: Lunchtime with the Masters of the Universe. John and Richard were at the peak of their powers. The sky was the limit. Whatever money could buy, these two had it. And they had a lot of it. And as soon as Trump was back in power, there would be much, much more.

John: Good afternoon, Richard. It’s been too long since our last lunch.

Richard: Good afternoon, John. Yes, it has. How have you been?

John: Very well, thank you. Busy as always, but things are moving in the right direction. How about you and your family?

Richard: We’re doing well, thank you. My son, Alexander, has just received his acceptance letter from Yale.

John: That’s excellent news! Congratulations to Alexander and to you. Yale is a fantastic institution. He must be thrilled.

Richard: He certainly is. We are all extremely proud of him. Yale offers unparalleled opportunities and will undoubtedly shape his future in the best possible way.

John: Absolutely. With a Yale education, Alexander will be well-prepared for any challenges he faces. Have you thought about how the current political climate might affect his future prospects?

Richard: Yes, quite a bit. We’re hopeful that the new government will adopt more protectionist policies and take a stronger stance on immigration. These changes could significantly impact the economic landscape.

John: I agree. A more protectionist approach could provide substantial benefits to our domestic industries. If the government prioritizes national interests over international ones, we could see a thriving local market.

Richard: Exactly. Limiting immigration and focusing on domestic employment could create a more favorable environment for our economy. This would be particularly advantageous for someone like Alexander, who will have the skills and knowledge to navigate such a market.

John: With fewer immigrants, there could be more opportunities for domestic workers, potentially leading to higher wages and better job prospects for citizens. This aligns well with our economic goals.

Richard: Precisely. Alexander is considering majoring in economics with a focus on international trade and policy. If the government shifts towards protectionism and stricter immigration controls, his expertise will be highly valuable.

John: That’s a smart move. Understanding the implications of protectionist policies on trade and the economy will be crucial. He could be at the forefront of developing strategies that align with national interests.

Richard: We’re certainly encouraging him to build strong connections at Yale, particularly with professors and industry experts. These relationships will be invaluable as he navigates his career.

John: Networking is essential, especially in such a dynamic environment. With potential policy changes, those connections could provide critical insights and opportunities.

Richard: Absolutely. It's an exciting yet uncertain time. However, with the right preparation and strategic thinking, Alexander could thrive in this new landscape.

John: Have you considered the political approaches of other countries, like Russia? They have implemented stringent immigration policies and strong protectionist measures with notable success.

Richard: Yes, we have. Russia’s policies have indeed bolstered their national industries and maintained a tighter control over their labor market. Their approach offers valuable lessons on how to prioritize national over international interests.

John: Exactly. If our government could adopt some of those measures, it could significantly strengthen our domestic economy. Alexander’s timing couldn’t be better.

Richard: I completely agree. It’s a critical moment, and with the right guidance and education, I believe Alexander will navigate it successfully.

John: I have no doubt about that. He has a solid foundation and your support. The future looks very promising for him.

Richard: Thank you, John. That means a lot. Here’s to hoping the new government’s policies will pave the way for greater opportunities and a stronger economy.

John: Cheers to that, Richard. To Alexander’s success and the promising times ahead.

2027, Brownsville Social Welfare Office: Alex and Mike were destined to follow in their fathers' footsteps. Oil barons and investment banking gods. But things don't always turn out the way you want them to…

Alexander: Hey there, Mike. Ain’t seen you in a coon’s age. What’s got you waitin’ at the social office today?

Mike: Hey, Alex. Just tryin’ to get some more assistance. Amy’s knocked up again, so I gotta sort things out. What about you?

Alexander: Same ol' crap. Need to see if they can help me get some dentures. Got my teeth busted in a brawl last month. Ain't lookin' too pretty.

Mike: Dang, man. That’s rough. Sorry to hear it. How’s things otherwise?

Alexander: Not too hot. After the market took a dive, had to drop outta Yale. Now I’m bustin’ my hump as a day laborer for that agribusiness. You know, the one that got snatched up by that Russian fella?

Mike: Yup, I know the one. Same deal here. Never thought we’d end up like this. Six kids now and no real job. That crash sure did us in.

Alexander: Tell me ‘bout it. I was this close to finishin’ my degree. Now instead of workin' in finance, I’m haulin' corn and doin' grunt work. Feels like some kinda bad joke.

Mike: I hear ya. I was studyin' to be an engineer. Now, I’m just tryin’ to get by. And since the Russian took over, it’s been even worse. Cut our hours and benefits to the bone.

Alexander: Yeah, I noticed. They don’t give a rat’s ass 'bout us. Just squeezin' every penny they can. It’s tough.

Mike: Sure is. And with another mouth to feed, it’s stressin’ me out. Amy’s worryin’ herself sick, and I ain’t got a clue how we’ll make it.

Alexander: Wish there was a way outta this mess. What’re we supposed to do? Every time I think I’m gettin’ ahead, somethin’ knocks me back down.

Mike: Same here. Feels like we’re stuck in mud. I keep hopin’ things’ll get better, but it’s like we’re just spinnin' our wheels.

Alexander: Worst part is knowin’ we had so much potential, ya know? We were supposed to have these big careers, and now we’re just tryin’ to make it day by day.

Mike: Sometimes I low-key ponder the insane what ifs if the freaking crash hadn't ruined everything. Like, imagine where we'd be RN. Rolling in that sweet juicy success, probs. We'd be slaying life, swagging out and straight up crushing it. Just living our best lives and probably having our dicks in…

Alexander: Yo, bruh, like legit, we'd be in a whole different stratosphere if we weren't chilling at this social welfare spot right now. But hey, we gotta keep on keepin' on, for the youngins and for us too. And if that lil' monster in your pants is acting up, hit me up anytime, I got your back!

Mike: Yo, bro! I was seriously starting to think you were never gonna bring it up... My urges are off the charts, I'm dying for some primo bootay to slam once more.

Alexander: Yo, like seriously, I gotta wait for a freaking eternity, like thirteen freaking numbers long. Dude, in that never-ending time span, you might as well give me a good ol' romp and suck fest, ya feel me?

Mike: Oh man, like seriously, watch out, but like, make sure you don't end up with a bun in the oven, okay? 'Cause, like, I'm totally the supreme stud around here when it comes to spreading my seed, ya dig?

Alexander: Yo, quit yapping and just slide through already! I'm totally gonna take this wild risk, no cap! Let's get this party started, fam!

[novastories]

What Am I

Title and chapter loosely inspired the song “What Am I” by Why Don’t We.

Summary: After a long first day of training for Bradley and Peyton, Aurora decides to spend time with her siblings and Bradley.

Warnings: Mentions of near death experiences, language, but mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Halfway through the story! Some of these chapters will be a bit shorter since we are in movie plot, but I have put my own spin on it…so enjoy!

Also the first official chapter as Nova! 🦋

Thank you as always @reginleight for beta reading and editing the chapter! And a super thank you to @callsignmeiga for making the text messages for me 🥹

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Lucille -> Aurora

Jake -> Aurora

—

Aurora rolls her eyes at the text when she hears the front door to her house open. CJ lifts his head up from her lap, the both of them lounging on the couch together. Bradley and Peyton walk in, looking a bit tired from training. 

The pair moved in the day after their reunion at the Hard Deck. As they didn’t have many things to move, they made themselves at home and the house has since become more lively for the first time since Aurora had moved in. She was very happy that they were both able to move in and didn’t realize how much she had truly missed them. It was as if the house had become more like a home with the three of them together in it. 

“I take it training was not great?” Aurora asked. Peyton simply walks to the kitchen without a word while Bradley, still in his flight suit walks to the couch and plops down next to CJ and Aurora. 

“Your dad is the instructor,” Bradley sighs, petting CJ.

“Huh?” Aurora gave him a confused look. “I thought he was part of the mission?”

“Apparently he’s going to be instructing the other naval aviators on how to do the mission. He and dumbass over there broke the hard deck today during a dick measuring contest,” Peyton walks back in, leaning against the door frame and drinking a beer he’d gotten from the fridge.

Bradley cringes, knowing what was coming.

“You broke the hard deck?! Are you nuts?!” Aurora reprimanded, fixing Bradley with a scathing look.

“In my defense, he started it.”

“Seriously, B?” 

“He pulled my papers, Ro. I can’t just let that go,” he whispers, sinking into the couch. CJ walks over and settles down next to him, trying to comfort Bradley. 

Aurora and Peyton look at each other and sigh. They knew what their father did was bad. The twins still to this day don’t understand why he did it. Aurora reached for one of Bradley’s hands to comfort him, getting his attention as those two made eye contact.

“Look, I know he was an asshole for pulling your papers. Pey and I understand. But in order to make this mission a success, you need to not kill yourself. I need you both to come back to me. Please B,” Aurora pleads to him.

Bradley sighs, knowing he would do anything for her. 

“Fine, okay. I will do my best to not get so mad at him,” Bradley reluctantly agrees. 

“And?” Aurora smirks at him.

Bradley chuckles. “And to always come back to you.” 

Aurora beams at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead immediately causing him to blush at her actions.Turning to give her attention to CJ, Aurora hadn’t even seen what she just caused but from the corner of his eye, Bradley could see it didn’t slip Peyton’s attention from his spot in the doorway.

“Simp,” Peyton mouths at him, while Bradley uses his left hand to flip him off.

“Well, how about we go get some tacos and hangout at the lookout spot for today?” Aurora suggests, knowing the boys would need to go out and let loose before another tense day tomorrow. 

“I’m down,” Peyton responds while Bradley nods in agreement. Aurora beams at both of them.

“Wonderful. Now, go get washed and changed please. You stink of sweat and jet fuel,” she chuckles as she heads into her room to change out of her sweatpants and oversized shirt.

Bradley and Peyton look at each other.

“She’s talking to you asshat,” Bradley stands and gestures to Peyton, dirty from repairing a jet.

“Or she’s talking about you shithead,” Peyton retorts.

“Both of you. You both stink,” Aurora calls out from her room.

—

Golden Trio (aka The Mitchell-Benjamin siblings)

—

“So you’re telling me, you went undercover for a case as a bartender, for 5 days?” Amelia questions Aurora, who was taking a bite of her taco. Aurora held a hand up as she finished chewing and swallowing a bite.

“I’m lucky it didn’t go any longer. Many agents have gone undercover for like a year if the case goes that long,” Aurora responds.

Currently, Aurora and Amelia were sitting next to each other, across from Bradley and Peyton on a picnic bench, CJ sitting next to Amelia as she fed him scraps.

The spot they were at looks out at the beach of San Diego, a place that the twins had discovered growing up in the city. When Bradley would visit, they would always go hangout at this spot to get away from the parents, then soon they showed it to Amelia and they deemed it the lookout spot, never really showing it to anyone else.

They had bought a bunch of tacos from a taco truck on the way to the lookout after picking up Amelia in Bradley’s Bronco. It was a nice day out, the sun was setting as they ate their food and got to listen to Aurora's stories about being an NCIS agent, having never told them much from past correspondences.

“Do you think you’ll miss the action?” Peyton asks, taking a sip from his drink.

Aurora hesitates for a bit to think about it. She had yet to tell them about the one case that she was still recovering from. She knew she’d miss the action, it was all she knew for 3 years but on the other hand, she had lived the agent life she wanted to. She was good. But she was ready to actually spend time with her family.

“Yes and no.” Aurora chews the inside of her cheek.

“I miss my team. I miss being on the field. But it was the right move to come home. Spend time with mom and, of course, you Ames. I’m glad it all lined up that you both are here too.”

Aurora gestures to Peyton and Bradley, but both were busy stuffing their faces with tacos. Amelia gives them a disgusted look, while Aurora laughs at them. 

“Sowwy, wha id yo ay?” Bradley asks Aurora, mouth still full as he speaks. Aurora chuckles at his confused expression.

“I said, I’ll miss it but I’m just glad to be here with all of you,” she reiterates.

“Yeah, it really worked out,” Bradley says after swallowing his bite and smiling at Aurora. She blushes while Peyton and Amelia give each other a knowing look across the table.

They were the biggest shippers of Bradley and Aurora, but both knew why they were hesitant about being together. That didn’t stop them from scheming behind their backs on ways to get them together.

“How long are you both stationed for? Are you leaving after the mission?” Amelia asks. Peyton and Bradley turn to look at each other and shrug.

“Not sure yet. The mission is already intense, and we just started training,” Bradley responds.

“Yeah, Bradley sucked today, and it was only dogfighting,” Peyton adds on, as Bradley gives Peyton the middle finger. 

“I mean, they brought all the top graduates of Top Gun, that in itself is already saying something,” Aurora defended Bradley a bit.

“Yeah, but I mean he really sucked today, like I’ve seen him better when he’s doing test runs,” Peyton says, egging Bradley on.

“Okay, Mr. Mechanic. Where’s your pilot license?” Bradley accuses.

“You know I can cut the fuel line to your jet, right?” 

“Okay ladies, break it up,” Aurora interrupts the two. Amelia chuckles at their small banter.

“What have you got, Miss NCIS Agent?” Peyton taunts his twin.

She glares at him. “A knife, a forensic best friend to help hide or destroy your body, another best friend to help me hide, while the rest of my team helps clear my name when I get blamed for your unexpected death.”

Bradley and Amelia burst out laughing as Peyton pales at Aurora’s sentence.

“Fine. You win, for now.”

Aurora smirks at him, knowing she won that round.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Hangman?”

Peyton sputters out his drink while Bradley slaps him on the back. Amelia giggles.

“Nothing, nothing is going on,” Peyton wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Really? Because the first time I brought you up, he blushed,” Aurora smiles at him.

“Oh, Peyton does the same thing!” Bradley chimes in, earning a slap on the arm from Peyton.

“Nothing is going on. Whatever he said, it’s nothing anymore,” Peyton sighs.

“What happened?” Aurora was confused. Hangman looked like he liked Peyton a lot, and would ask about him whenever he and Aurora would text from time to time.

“He doesn’t want anything but sex from me.”

“Woah, dude! There’s a child here,” Bradley blurts out.

“I’m a lot more mentally mature than you, Bradshaw,” Amelia points out.

Bradley sticks his tongue out at her, to which Amelia puts up her middle finger.

“What do you mean?” Aurora wonders, ignoring the two.

“He doesn’t want a relationship. He’s scared about dating someone like me.”

“A guy?” 

“No, being with someone also in the Navy. He’s worried that it’ll mess up his career. Especially with our family’s reputation.”

“If anything, Hangman is very open about being bisexual,” Bradley rolls his eyes.

“So he doesn’t want to date you because you’re a Mitchell?” Amelia snorts.

“Pretty much.” Peyton replies.

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I know. I just…I want to move on, but I really like him.”

“I’m sorry, Pey. He really seems like he likes you.” Aurora comforts her twin.

She was going to have a word with Jake later. Probably smack some sense into him when she sees him or threaten the asshole with her knife, whichever comes first.

“Apparently not enough,” Peyton grumbles, finishing his drink. 

“I’m bored, I’m gonna skate around.” Getting up to throw away her trash, Amelia grabbed her skateboard and was about to wander off.

“Please be careful, Ames,” Aurora tells her.

“Always! Pey, want to come with me? I’ll teach you some basics.” 

Amelia gives her best fake smile. Peyton looks at her confused, until Amelia makes a face that Peyton finally understood to give Aurora and Bradley some alone time.

“Oh, yeah! Sure! I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a skateboard!” Peyton gave his best smile as he stuffed the rest of his taco in his mouth and threw away his trash.

“Wait, since when?” Aurora looks at him confused.

“Since, like forever! Amelia is going to teach me how to do an Olive!”

“You mean Ollie?” Amelia corrects him.

“Yeah, that too!”

Aurora and Bradley look at Peyton in disbelief as both he and Amelia leave to go do some skateboard tricks on an even road, while CJ follows them.

They both throw away their trash then sit back at the table, but this time Bradley sitting next to her as they watch the sunset. 

Bradley faces Aurora, who was keeping an eye on Peyton, Amelia, and CJ. Smiling, he could see how much love Aurora holds for her family. Plus the fact that she moved back to San Diego, and gave up a successful NCIS career in Washington D.C. in order to be home, it really warmed his heart. 

Turning her head, Aurora catches Bradley staring at her.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Becoming self conscious, she grabs a napkin and begins wiping at her mouth.

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just…I just still can’t believe you’re here right in front of me.”

Aurora chuckles as she puts the napkin down.

“I missed you, a lot.” Bradley confesses, reaching his hand over to Aurora’s so they could hold hands.

Aurora smiles and interlocks their hands. “I missed you a lot too, B.”

Bradley looks down at the charm bracelet. It still looked brand new, as if it was just yesterday he had given it to her that Christmas day when they shared their first kiss. He soon noticed a new charm on it.

“That’s new,” he points out, simply curious at the charm.

Looking down at it, Aurora realizes the charm he pointed out was the North Star charm given by her NCIS team.

“It was a goodbye present from my team when I left last week.”

Bradley looks up to see Aurora’s eyes glaze over a bit.

“Hey, you okay?”

Aurora was drawn out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“You miss it?”

“Oh yeah, I loved being shot at all the time,” she sarcastically answered.

“But you were safe, right? No like bad calls or close to your death bed?” Bradley worriedly asks.

Aurora hesitates. Was she ready to tell him about the cases where she would get hit by stray bullets? Or the time she almost got blown up because she refused to leave Ziva’s side when Ziva was disarming the bomb?

Probably not the time her and McGee got stuck in an elevator and almost fell to their death? The case where Tony had almost got them caught undercover was not one she wanted to relive. Or the time that she was in Abby’s lab and inhaled a bad toxin, leaving her bedridden for a few days? Surely she couldn’t tell him about the case where she took a bullet for Gibbs. Or the case where she was tortured. 

“No, I’m fine, B. I loved my team, but I think it was time for me to stop running into gunfire,” Aurora brushes off her thoughts. That was a problem for another day.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. And that you’re safe.”

“Worried about me?”

“Always for you, princess.” Bradley says, kissing her hand causing Aurora to blush.

“This mission is going to be an intense one, isn't it?” Aurora asks Bradley after a few minutes of silence, besides the ocean waves crashing and the speaker they were playing music out of from Bradley’s Bronco.

“Yeah, I think so, darling.”

“Promise you’ll be safe. That you all will come back home. Including Jake.”

“So it’s Jake now?” Bradley turns to her.

“Jealous?” She smirks at him. Bradley shook his head.

“No way.”

“Don’t worry,” Aurora leans her head on his shoulder. “You’ll always be my knight in shining armor.”

Bradley chuckles. “And you’ll always be my princess. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we all come back safe and sound.”

Aurora hums in content with Bradley’s answer as they go back to listening to the waves and the music.

Just a distance away, Peyton and Amelia high five. Seeing the two being close and having a moment for the first time in a while was a win in their books. 

“So, who do you think is going to win that bet the parents have placed on those two?” Amelia asks, throwing a stick for CJ to fetch.

“Oh, mom for sure! They all had to change their bets when they didn’t get together in high school.” Peyton replies.

“Let’s hope they get together soon. For everyone's sake.”

- - -

If you would like to be on the taglist or removed, please let me know! 

Taglist:  

@callsignmeiga

@sqrlgrl22

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@purplevortexx

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@fandom-princess-forevermore

—

Disclaimer: This story is fictitious. All works are written by me and only posted here. Please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize on any other platform without my permission!

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Espresso x Clotted Cream let them be nice and domestic with each other idk maybe theyre making bread but fucking suck at it let them b nice to each other pelase

The aroma of freshly-baked bread punctuated the kitchen, drifting about like a tantalizing promise. It rose in the oven, outer crust turning crisp and almost golden, cracking here and there as it expanded. The inside of it would be airy and light. Butter could melt on it.

Espresso imagined it as he sipped on his coffee, relaxing. At the end of the day, he'd done good work--today was a day to relax, and he figured he may as well try dabbling in something that his coworkers insisted was somewhat akin to his particular brand of science. Apparently baking required specific steps to be taken to heart--any vague mis-measuring or overmixing could be the difference between a successful end product and a disaster.

He was confident.

"It doesn't look right," his husband commented by the oven. Espresso turned his head to frown at his backside, leaning against the nearby counter and doubled over to peed into the partially-open oven.

"Of course it won't," he commented briskly. "Not if you keep letting all the heat out." Clotted Cream shifted, as if he were considering leaving the oven be, but he ended up not moving. Espresso sighed. "Just close it and wait for the timer to go off."

"It looks like ghost bread," Clotted Cream explained, finally shutting it as slowly and quietly as he could. "Isn't there supposed to be a brown crust around it, like the kind you buy at the store?"

"I don't know," Espresso shrugged. "I've never made bread before."

Clotted Cream looked at him over his shoulder, his eyes widened and brow furrowed with a vague sense of worry. His oft-present smile--charming, confident and guarded--was gone now, replaced with a fretfulness that extended outward, in the way that he began to pace about the kitchen to get himself a glass of wine. His hands shook just a little as he poured it, though he tried to keep it steady. Espresso guessed that he was stressed--a glance at the calendar was all the reminder he needed that his schedule was swamped with appointments and deadlines.

"Clotted Cream, I'm not going to divorce you over bad bread."

The Consul lifted his head at that, staring at Espresso for a few long moments before gesturing about vaguely. "I didn't say anything."

"Sit with me," Espresso suggested, reaching a foot out to nudge one of the chairs at the table out. "Tell me about your day."

He did. For the next hour and a half, Clotted Cream and Espresso talked, first about work and then about other matters. Clotted had a short day, but a hard one--it was always a difficult day where private discussions with the Elders were involved. He was more than happy to leave the office early and offload his work, relieved that overstaffing was a current issue. Espresso thought bitterly of Elder Custard, Clotted Cream's miserable excuse for a father, and felt disgust coil in his stomach.

From there, it shifted to lighter things. Clotted Cream saw a little dog on his route home and has been thinking about it ever since. "No," Espresso said, firmly, "we aren't getting a dog." Clotted Cream nodded and agreed, explaining that he knew they were both too busy to take care of one. But it was a nice thought.

An hour and a half later, the timer went off, interrupting Espresso's explanation of why cat claws can sheathe and dog claws couldn't. Clotted Cream and Espresso both rose to their feet and advanced towards the oven, Espresso grabbing the oven mitts on the way. He opened the oven while his husband reached over him to turn the timer off.

He blinked down at the bread.

"...Oh."

Clotted Cream looked over his shoulder, frowning down at the bread, as well. Espresso's cheeks felt warm at the fact that he knew this, a traitorous butterfly flitting in his stomach enough to make him shiver. "Yeah," Clotted Cream agreed, his voice bleak and vague. "It looks like a ghost."

Nonetheless, Espresso took the loaf pan out, setting it on the stove top and closing it carefully. Clotted Cream took a stick of butter out of the fridge and began smearing it over the steaming top, but Espresso doubted that it'd do much. Curiously, he took a knife and tapped at its surface once Clotted Cream was done with that.

"...It feels crisp," he noted. "Let's see how it cuts."

And cut, he did--though he gave up on the bread knife quickly and reached for a steak knife instead. Surely the crust wasn't meant to be as tough as it was--it was so strange and peculiar, how it looked undercooked but felt like it was burnt! Even with a steak knife, the cutting wasn't easy--the crust on the bottom was insistent about staying attached, stubborn and clingy. When he finally took a piece and set it on a plate, the inside of the bread was thick and cakey.

One slice for each of them, slathered in bread. It smelt like bread, and it tasted like bread, but it tasted so thick and moist that it ended up making Espresso wonder if the dough was undercooked. Clotted Cream grimaced as he chewed, his refined palette finding it difficult to digest in comparison to Espresso's more tolerant stomach.

"...It's edible," Clotted Cream commented. "I think."

"Let's retrace our steps," Espresso suggested, setting his bread on the plate and bracing himself against the counter. "The dough didn't necessarily double in size when we were letting it raise in the pre-heated oven both times. What could be the reason for that? Did you activate the yeast?"

Clotted Cream blinked, double-taking at Espresso. "...Activate the yeast?"

"The little packet," Espresso explained. "That's the yeast. According to the instructions on the back of the packet, you activate it by letting it sit in hot water for a few minutes."

"...There were instructions on the back of it?" Clotted Cream cleared his throat, turning his head away, face turning warm and pink with embarrassment. "Well--I don't know about any instructions on the packet! I was just following what the cookbook said."

...So he didn't activate the yeast.

Espresso expected himself to be irritated at the blatant lack of regard, but amusement and warmth tickled him instead. Clotted Cream wasn't a cook--it seemed that every time he tried to cook in his own house, something horrible went terribly wrong. He remembered the rank stench of burnt cake around when they first started dating, the first instance where Clotted Cream's professional demeanor started to crack on the edges. "I wanted to impress you," he'd said miserably, "but I just ended up making a fool of myself..."

Espresso found out quickly that Clotted Cream's tendency to not do what commoner cookies tended to do was less for lack of interest and more for lack of knowing how to proceed with it in the first place. What was the point of trying to do something if you were just going to make a fool of yourself? Better to stick to what you already know and preserve your image.

"Hey," Espresso urged, his voice soft as he reached to rest a hand on Clotted Cream's shoulder. "Think of it like this. At least you didn't start a fire in the oven. Progress."

Clotted Cream blinked, looking at Espresso and meeting his gaze for a moment. His shoulders eased, relaxing, a tentative smile easing on his face and reaching his leafy green eyes. "At least it's edible," he suggested, emboldening himself to take another bite.

"It is," Espresso agreed. "But it's no dinner."

"Let's order something, then," Clotted Cream suggested immediately. "Maybe watch something on the television together."

For once.

The words were unsaid, but Espresso could feel them, suggested in the air. He snorted, lifting a hand to his mouth, hiding a smile. "I'd like that."

[messinwitheddie]

Sorry to bombard you with asks but I just had an epipany that your drawings of Miyuki (and honestly Dava as well) remind me of Charlotte from the 1973 Charlotte's web movie. I just got a tiktok of a clip from the movie and that thought just got into my head lol

That version of Charlotte was one of my first cartoon hyperfixations! I thought she was so pretty. As an adult I realize she looks more like a fuzzy ant than a spider, but I still think she's neat.

Maybe subconsciously Charlotte creeps into my drawings of Miyuki and Dava. Neither really resemble Charlotte personality wise.

Both Miyuki and Dava were formidable soldiers before they were tallests. Both were successful and ruthless conquerors.

Miyuki was famous for her charm and social grace. She maintained a high-class persona even towards the rend of her reign when she really started to get power drunk.

Dava was the opposite. Much of her history is watered down to mentioning little other than her 3 successful births, but she was a mighty tallest in her own right. Dava had once aspired to be a frylord, but was measured tallest before completing her culinary ops training. She spent many stressful battles fighting on Irks surface in between shifts cooking in the mess hall. She worked and fought alongside the tiniest drones. She kept her hive's army fed. She stayed very grounded even after she was measured because of that.

Fellow tallests considered Dava to be "trashy" and disgraceful. Dava made little effort to learn or practice tallest etiquette. She usually showed to formal events in functional armor and war paint. She engaged in conversation with shorter drones, especially scientists, doctors and techs, much more often and openly than other tallests. She made her demands heard. Naturally this is covered very little in holo training texts.

The one oc I have that strongly resembles Charlotte's design is Dow, the Colossus's adopted coddle drone.

Long post is long already, but I must include this, because it was a perfect excuse to use this dialogue. I love the book/ movie, but I think the story of Charlotte's Web may be a little more distressing to Irkens.

Ms. Bitters "Zim! You're up. Present to the class your oral report on...oooh."

Dib "Ow!! Damn it, Zim!"

Ms. Bitters "Dib, don't curse. Zim! Don't throw the books. There's nothing in the budget to replace them. The board used it all on new baseball uniforms."

Zim "What was the point of that stupid book?!!"

Ms. Bitters "It's YOUR oral report, Zim. You tell me and I'll tell you if you're right or wrong according to the curriculum."

Zim "Charlotte DIES ALONE in a fairground? She sacrifices all of her time, energy, silk and health and she doesn't even live to see her smee-er- babies leave to spin their own webs?! Why?! To save a stupid pig?! The humans are just going to eat him next Christmas, Charlotte, you shmizz!!

Do we really need reminders that life is short and death is inevitable?!

That our efforts will have little impact on the universe?! That our hard work will most likely go unrewarded?! DO WE?!

Rot, E.B. White!! If you're going to make shit up, make it uplifting! Come on!!

Zita "But the book also reminds us that the friendships we make along the way make life worth living and the acts of kindness we do for each other gives us hope that the future may be a little brighter for future generations-"

Zim "You rot too, ZI-TA! You WOULD side with that dumb pig!! Typical!!"

Zita "Ms. Bitters!!"

Ms. Bitters. "ZIM, as much as I agree with your assessment, Zita's fits closer to the curriculum. You get a D. Sit down and be quiet for the rest of the day."

Zim "Sure! Who cares?! Earth fiction is STUPID! I'm never reading fictional earth literature EVER AGAIN!"

Ms. Bitters *sigh*

[nihilnovisubsole]

[taps mic] is everybody here? everyone still manning their tumblr blogs after the twitter roller coaster of the past couple of months? cool

so! 2022, huh? it's not new year's eve without one of my soppy, navelgazing year-in-review posts. if you're reading this, you survived. as an acquaintance of mine put it, "i hope 2023 is the year it all pays off for you."

if i seem unusually optimistic about it, it's because this year, against the odds, things started looking up. i had no idea when i stepped out last december 31st and listened to the neighbors' firecrackers what i was in for. i didn't know that when obsidian emailed me on a january afternoon about "a quick follow-up meeting," it would be their offer call. i didn't know what kind people i'd meet there, or the lengths they'd go to to make me feel like a respected peer instead of a gatecrashing fan. i knew least of all how it would affect my state of mind: that i'd finally feel a sense of accomplishment and dignity. i look ahead and i see a viable future for myself. i've been paid to write for years, but now i can support myself with it. i think about the weight that takes off my mother. i remember staying up until 4 A.M., wondering how i'd do the only thing i ever wanted to do. it was a big, dark ocean then. it's still an ocean now, but i've got a boat, a crew, and a lantern. it's hard to overstate what that does to you.

the downside is, there are only 24 hours in a day, and your time feels very different when you're on the clock for eight of them. i knew it'd be a change, and it's gone more smoothly than i thought it would, but i just can't churn unpaid stuff out the way i did years ago. projects that would've taken a long time in college have become interminable now. you wouldn't believe how much half-finished art i have sitting around. it's not lost on me that this is just ordinary adulthood, and even i had to get around to it at some point. laugh all you want! seriously, i probably deserve it, and it's hard enough to find things to laugh about in this decade.

part of me misses that pillowy freelance lifestyle of cramming my paid work into the mornings, then doing fun projects all day. then i remember i was numbing the ache of not having a career that i now have, and the superficial sense of leisure came with a heavy price. it wasn't worth three cents a word and almost no creative input. it wasn't worth being on medi-cal and having my mother keep me afloat. it certainly wasn't worth watching my friends work themselves half to death because they weren't privileged enough to have that support network. i think we all agree that we should have a better world, that artists should be able to just make art, that contractors aren't paid enough. [except for relic, they were very generous, i loved them.] in the meantime, we have to make it through with what we have, and figure out how to look after each other as best we're able to.

i think, when people gain a measure of success in life, they want to fantasize that they did it all by themselves. that's ridiculous. i wouldn't be writing any of this without the people who hyped up my wild fanfic ideas or bought dangerous crowns. i'd never have written anniversary without the other longsummer nights authors building a vivid world for hercule and aida to live in. i'll never forget the colleagues and the industry doors they helped me through, and, you know, i'm not much now, but i hope i can pass that on. even if you only have a little power, you have to use it for good, right? otherwise, that's how you get a chandelier dropped on you.

seriously, though, read anniversary. i want to talk about it more. it's short, i swear!

[dapperbasil]

Tammy - 50

One word writing prompts: Cotton

When Caroline learned how little clothing Tammy had after her embrace, she had insisted on taking the young Ventrue to remedy the situation. With her sire graciously accepting the offer, Tammy found herself following the Toreador quietly, feeling extremely out of her element as they walked down the aisles of various stores. It had already been a rather long night, with numerous trips to the fitting rooms just to be disappointed with each and every one. Caroline frowned as she held up a blouse and looked down at the awkward young woman tailing behind her. “It’s a shame that it’s June, I think you’d look wonderful in fall colors. Summer doesn’t really suit you, Tammy.”

As Caroline puts the blouse back on the rack, Tammy takes a look over at the few successful purchases they were able to agree on. Mostly slacks, but there were a few more colorful button up shirts that both agreed looked nice enough that her sire wouldn’t mind her wearing on occasion. “I’m not sure that much really suits me at all, Miss Maxwell. Not that I don’t appreciate you doing this for me, I really do.” Tammy holds her hands behind her back as Caroline holds a dress up to her to measure it, both of them shaking their heads at the garment being far too short to even entertain. “I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me by doing this.”

Caroline laughed as if Tammy’s words were the funniest thing she had heard all night, stopping only when she noticed the Ventrue was not laughing along with her. “Oh, you’re serious. Lemme guess, Zacharias told you others only help if they want something from you, right?” A nod was the confirmation Caroline needed as she led Tammy away from the clothing department and into bedding. “I guess that’s not wrong, per say. I do want something from you out of this, but it's not anything too major.” Caroline begins browsing the items on display and putting them in a basket, bedsheets, pillow cases, towels, various necessities. “You see, I’ve known your sire for quite some time now, a good many years. And he’s picky, very picky.” She glances at Tammy, who gives back an uneasy smile. Caroline’s voice lowers in volume to a much softer tone, to ensure others don’t hear her speaking. “He’s not the kind of kindred who would take the choice of childe lightly, Zacharias certainly put much thought into your embrace. So I want to know… why did he pick you?”

Tammy found herself unable to answer. She didn’t really know why her sire had chosen her for the embrace. “I… I couldn’t really say. He’s never said anything about it to me, and I don’t think there’s anything really special that would be a reason for it.” She followed her in silence as they made their way to the front of the shop, Caroline seemingly satisfied with her selections. 

“That’s just it, Tammy! Excuse me saying this but you’re… so overwhelmingly average that I can’t figure it out myself. I wish I could get into that little head of his to find out his reasoning. I swear not knowing is going to drive me insane.” Caroline shrugged her shoulders and paid for the merchandise, making a big effort of sighing in annoyance. “I guess I’ll have to learn it the hard way. I’m sure it’ll become clear in the coming years, once you settle into everything.”

The drive back was relatively silent, the only sound in the car being the music playing from the radio. Turning down a different road than the one her sire lived on, Tammy was surprised until she remembered that Zacharias had mentioned moving her into an apartment. Clearing her throat as they got closer to their destination, Tammy looked down into her lap. “Thank you, by the way. I wanted to say it before we were in front of my sire, so you’d know I wasn’t just saying it because he wanted me to. I am really grateful for all this.”

Caroline reached over and ruffled the young fledgling’s hair with a grin. “Glad to hear. Now you’ll have better things to wear than those tacky little dresses like the one you wore to my studio. You’re much better off, and I’ll never have to see those affronts to fashion ever again! We’re both winners in my book.”

They parked outside an apartment complex where Zacharias stood waiting next to his car, the two elder kindred exchanging pleasantries before Caroline took her leave and the Ventrue escorted Tammy up to her new home for the time being. He gave her a small list of rules for her to follow, all of which felt fair enough to her, handed her a set of keys and took his leave for the night. As she was setting up the soft, cotton sheets on the bed in the bedroom chosen for her, Tammy sighed as her mind wandered to the question Caroline had posed, a question she hadn’t really realized even was one to be asked. “Why did he choose to embrace me?”

[kimtaegis]

you perfectly summed up why i have anxiety going on twitter... i tried to only follow people who don't engage in things like this and just tweet wholesome things but sometimes i can still run into a toxic comment... it's especially bad under other official tweets where people from other fandoms join and spread their bullshit, and i just simply can't look at any of those tweets anymore. and people from our fandom do that too. i don't understand why anyone would make this their whole personality or life. i do understand wanting to support someone and wanting them to succeed but why do we have to degrade other people for that. why can't we say that multiple groups are successful. because they are. why does someone immediately think of 'it flopped' when 'A' group's song doesn't chart or sell like 'B' group's does? it's not a flop. people still love the music. why do we have to measure everything in numbers and charts. i miss the time when we just simply enjoyed music, and enjoyed what the artists did. i know not only the tannies but other artists would be really disappointed in fans who act like they are constantly in war with other fandoms. idols are friends too, and they support each other as much as they can. we should do the same. and i think especially with korean artist, when western media and the music industry still treats them the way they do.. we shouldn't try to 'gatekeep' them. if bts did it, others can too. and we should help them achieve what the artists want to achieve, because we are here to support them. and hell, if someone wants an award, our first thought shouldn't be 'no, you can't because xy already got that award and nobody else can have it', it should be: okay, so how can we make it work. this is still about numbers and charts, i know, but since these are important to so many artists, it should be important to us too. but not in the way of 'i'm going to try my best to help this artist win this award but not because i genuinely want them to win it, but because then i can go under another tweet and say my artist has this and yours doesn't'. and that's a really big problem with army too... sure, the tannies always said they appreciate fan voted awards a lot, but i feel like the majority of the fandom doesn't vote for the tannies. they vote so they can say we got this and the other fandom didn't. i think the music industry also tries to play into this and push this 'there can only be one' agenda and it's so fucked up... there are so many talented people out there and i wish we could just support them unconditionally and not try to tear each other's throat out every time something happens. i know the tannies wouldn't want this. they support so many other artists, so we can't we?

and i know the fandom loves to bring up their journey and how hard it was because they were accused of so many things and the music industry didn't want to acknowledge them and is still racist against asian artists, and that's why many armys are so protective of them.. and i don't know how i feel about this, because yes, they really built themselves up from nothing, and their journey is really beautiful. but that doesn't mean they have to be the only one to succeed.

I read your message and just went “yes! exactly. yep. literally.” I wholeheartedly agree with your takes on all of this. You perfectly described a huge problem in parts of this fandom, which is that horrific superiority complex of quite many. I just can’t grasp the idea of justifying this much arrogance because you’re being a fan of a boy group. That is.. not an achievement? Also – no one likes sore losers, yes, but same for conceited winners… or is that just me, I don’t know. In my eyes, it would have so much more impact to just lay back, enjoy the success, and remain humble about it. And also to regularly remember that bts’ success does not (or rather shouldn’t) affect your own life in the slightest.

I could probably write a whole essay about the whole fandom war thing. As someone who has absolutely no problem having bts as their ult group and wishing them all the best while simultaneously enjoying lots of other kpop artists, I can’t wrap my head around these very childish fights going on. Kind of a more sensitive issue for me since I feel personally addressed when there’s discourse about “multis” (the fact that there’s a derogatory term used for people who enjoy more than one artist.. think about that). Would never deny that other fandom’s don’t talk shit, but armys are certainly no angels either. Also it doesn’t matter who started, what does count is who ends this kindergarten behaviour.

To come to an end here: I agree with your music industry point and the inappropriate, narrow-minded approaches to kpop in general. As to your very last thought: … yeah. I literally muted the word “paved” on twitter, I think that’s saying enough

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

More likely, you'll just find that for some mysterious reason good things happen to them too. Starting a startup is not like having an idea I didn't want to be novelists.1 Thanks to Sam Altman and Jessica Livingston for reading drafts of this. If you've never seen a word before, it is genuine.2 He would say that this has happened to. Another group was worried when they realized they had to do it? To change the interface both have to agree to change it easily, or at least a generation to turn people into East Germans luckily for England. Dilution Users have worried about that since the site was about bands. In server-based application now for less than you think you'll need, maybe 50% to 100% more, because software changes fast and government changes slow. And acquirers tell me privately that revenue is not what growth rate makes a company a startup.

There's no incentive that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way as saying that something is worth doing, especially if you have a competent startup lawyer handle the deal for you, as Google did for Kleiner and Sequoia. There is nothing more valuable than the advice of someone whose judgement you respect, what does it add to consider the cost. A stage. Once investors like you is that you actually become a better investment.3 It shouldn't be that surprising that colleges can't teach students how to write software. Reminder: What I'm looking for are programs that run on Web servers and use Web pages as the interface. This lets me get ip addresses and prices intact.4 But I don't think so. Maybe the best way to explain how it's recession-proof is to do things that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way I write software: I sit down and start implementing it. In retrospect, he was before he became a professor at MIT.5 Possibly not. But we could tell the founders were earnest, energetic, and independent-minded enough to start a startup, you'll probably fail.

Some investors might expect the founders to accept vesting for a sum this size, and others that aren't.6 But when you understand the problem. Going upstairs his bulk will be more of a placeholder than an actual label—like putting NMI on a form that asks what you're going to have a book about how to make them irrelevant.7 There seem to be a tradition of startups taking VC money, you should do is to treat it as an upper bound on the size of the venture business, which have evolved the way they write software. Would anyone seriously argue that Cobol is equivalent in power to founders is just don't die, but the most important predictor of success. We thought Airbnb was a bad idea was that it was valuable and dangerous, and what that will mean for you if you choose them. It will always be lots of Java programmers, so if you're measuring usage you need a window of about two years when spam was increasing rapidly but all the big email services had terrible filters. So, in practice, the way to make yourself work on hard problems.8 Number one will be the limit; the number of temptations around you.

Notes

Only founders of Hewlett Packard said it first, to pretend that the Internet was as much as Drew Houston needed Dropbox, or working in middle management at a discount of 30% means when it converts. No VC will admit they're influenced by buzz.

We didn't try to go sell the bad idea, period. This seems to them this way, without becoming a Texas oilman was not just something the telephone, the space of careers does. Correction: Earlier versions used a technicality to get them to be discovered. After reading a draft of this essay wrote: My feeling with the guy who came to work on stuff you love: a It did.

They'd be interchangeable if markets stood still. Cost, again. How many times that conversation was repeated. If Congress passes the founder of the word as in Boston, and tax rates.

You can get rich, purely mercenary founders will seem as if having good intentions were enough to be room for something new if the similarity extended to returns.

If they no longer needed, big companies weren't plagued by internal inefficiencies, they'd be called unfair. With a classic fixed sized round, or your job will consist of bad customs as well.

If there's an Indian grocery store near you doesn't mean you suck. It seems likely that in the chaos anyway.

Above. But when you depend on Aristotle more than linearly with its size.

They hate their bread and butter cases. It may have been sitting in their hearts that if you do if your goal is to be sharply differentiated, so you'd have to do that. That's probably true of nationality and religion as well. How can I count you in?

[myatuesday]

Knowing I sound insane to strangers on the internet yet not giving a single solitary fuck.

Example:

"I agree with your comment. After watching the video, however, if the kid stated "I'm a girl" on multiple occasions, that's definitely different than just playing dress up.

I feel time should be given to figure it out though, especially since the kid seems to be influenced by their sister.

I think it's important to let kids be who they are. But don't believe in hormonal or surgical transitional measures at a young age.

This would be such a hard issue to navigate. I wanna raise my kids in a gender neutral environment and just let them choose their own path. If and when I have kids, that is. I guess if I don't have them, the pressure of potentially doing it wrong is off the table, at least. Ha. But it's something I've planned for so long, I certainly hope to have kids.

But I mean... idk. When I was a kid, I really wanted to be a boy. I also wanted to be black. Ha. I don't know exactly at what point I realized this aren't choices we get to make. But, these days, I think alot about what would've happened if I would've been born in these times. I probably would have had the opportunity to actually be a boy. Sometimes I feel like I missed out on that. But other times I feel like I'm lucky (in ways) that I got the opportunity to experience life as a girl. Had I transitioned as a kid, I likely never would've had that experience. I feel like there's definite pros and cons to both.

I do feel like femininity is extremely performative and that being a dude would've come much more naturally. I definitely feel I've been conditioned as a woman.

At this point, it's so absurd (femininity, being a woman), that I'm kindof just leaning into it. At least for the time being. Where in the early 20s, I wasn't overtly feminine at all. Now I'm like, well, if I'm doing this, let's fucking do it. And it feels almost like a play or like a costume. I'm wearing wigs and too much make up and presenting hyper sexual. Etc. And that makes me feel like the woman I want to be, I guess. That's my idea of a woman. Idk. When I was a kid, those were the kinds of women I liked. That I thought were cool or pretty or whatever. Kinda like Dolly saying she thought the town tramp was so beautiful so she styled herself after her. Like I think it's hilarious that I'm almost 40 and I'm dressing like I'm 16 or 25. I'm a tired trope, essentially. But it's a female trope. I picked one and leaned into it.

I have no way of knowing if this is how other women think. If this is because maybe I'm actually trans, so playing a woman is actually a calculated move on my part. Or if it's because I'm neurodivergent that is feels this way. This is all I know, so I don't know the difference. Granted, there's plenty of overlap btwn gender identity issues (not my favorite word choice, but it's 4am, so) and neurodivergency. So... who knows? Give it 5 or 10 more years, we may have those answers.

The truth is, my most natural state is Goblin Mode. But I think, isn't it for everyone, if people just... allowed themselves to just BE? We're animals. It makes sense that would be the default, at the end of the day.

But... society doesn't allow for Goblin Mode. Nor, in fairness, could I secure a partner in Goblin Mode in this modern society. So, performative femininity it is.

But if I lived on a deserted island with no other humans around. I would just wanna be a dude, an animal, whatever. A feral being, with a big old honkin dick. If I really could just.. have my pick. So whatever that says about me. 🤷🏼‍♀️

But, in this society, as it is... I'd ideally like to just be a wife and a mother and make that work. And I also think I could be pretty content in that. But, still ideally outside of society. Maybe not feral woodland trolls. Ha. But... I want out as much as possible. So I guess that's kindof my middle ground.

If I'm not successful in securing a husband and getting knocked up in the next couple years, I think I will just go pretty feral. Be a hobbit. And I guess I'll wear a girl costume when I have to go out in public. Idk.

All that stuff becomes really different when you're as isolated as I am. When you realize everything has an alternative. I've always been pretty freaking weird, while also exploring and trying to figure out who I am over the years. I write, I think, I spend plenty of time alone. It's always been that way. But usually with balance. But in the past several months, I've completely isolated. I've had virtually no physical human contact since April. I leave the house maybe about once a month. So to be cooped up in the house for weeks on end for months... you definitely tap in to your true nature. I can only imagine how amazing this would be in a different environment. I hate I'm stuck in the city. Cause if I were in a more natural place right now, I doubt I'd even be on fb right now. I think I'd be so tapped out of society and tuned back into nature, that I'd just be immersed in an entirely different life and state of being. And, like I said, I hope to be still. That's kindof the ultimate goal.

But I've majorly digressed. My point really is that an individual needs to spend time alone and soul searching and uninfluenced by family and society, etc in order to truly tap into their true nature and who they are or who they're meant to be.

A kid is luckily pretty pure in their true nature in childhood. But they're also very much a product of their environment and of the influence of their family at the same time. For that reason, tapping into that true self is potentially difficult and time needs to be allowed before big decisions are made. Granted, if there is no surgical or hormonal intervention, at any time it's possible to put on or take off the dress, so to speak, and be whoever a person wants to be.

Whatever happens, hopefully parents will be supportive and loving, but not encouraging. Encouraging feels like pushing your kid in a direction. That's kindof a different conversation. There's a happy medium somewhere.

At the same time though, I think it's worth doing serious research as to why all this is happening. Trans kids have always existed, even if in silence, true. And gender is a social construct, most definitely. But it's worth determining if there is a legitimate uptick in true transness, whether that be gender dysphoria or actual hormonal issues, just as it's also worth understanding if neurodivergence is simply better understood now or if there's a true increase in that as well. Our environment is so extremely unnatural and poisoned and polluted now, it's impossible that it's not impacting every living thing.

My issue with this huge acceptance movement is that is seems to be bypassing the science. People want to be accepting and compassionate and all kumbya and politically correct rather than getting to the root of what's causing these possible changes. That part is toxic and dangerous and, again, anti science. And I feel like nobody is talking about that. That's one of the biggest red flags for me.

But I'll shut up now. For whatever reason, I can't stop talking. Probably because there are so few people in this world who I can speak with candidly on these topics. But I'll stick a pin in it there."

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 131.2 Tease (Part 2)

(you can start with part 1 if you'd like.)

It's not forever. Harry reminded himself as he sat in his fourth meeting today with a board of people he barely recognized. His eyes searched for Draco who was across the room, his head bowed as he spoke in hushed tones to a witch in a hideous magenta robe.

It's not forever he repeated as he listened to the arsehole leading the presentation about all of the ways that the war had helped the economy boom.

It's not forever he thought again as the board congratulated themselves on a war well won when not a single one of them was there.

He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to replace every person he'd lost with one of these arseholes instead.

His gaze met Draco's across the room and he wondered if the other man could see how this was killing him.

"Mr. Potter," the wanker who'd been running the meeting, Sebastian if Harry remembered correctly, said, "You've been awfully quiet," he added jovially and the room chuckled with him. Harry forced a smile. "What are your thoughts?"

"Thank you for the invitation to speak," he said courteously. "Yes, I agree," he lied, "It's really something that we've had such a boom in the economy." He paused as the people around the room congratulated each other again. "There are several things that I would personally love to see some of the excess get funneled into."

"Oh-" Sebastian started but Harry continued over him.

"The number of children orphaned during the war doubled," Harry said bluntly. "Our orphanages don't have enough room to hold them and they're being put in muggle orphanages or into muggle homes. Many muggles aren't equipped to handle a wizarding child."

"Mr. Potter-"

"Excuse me," he said. "If I could just have another moment of your time." He cleared his throat, "I would like to see better processes in place for how these children are placed. An extra set of interviews, even." There were murmurs around the room but Harry plowed on.

(Read more below the cut)

"The number of people who are now affected by lyncathropy has nearly quadrupled but our funding has remained the same for that department in St. Mungo's-"

"Yes, but-"

"And," Harry continued, "The potion typically used for treatment is really expensive. With all of the prejudices against lycanthropes, it's difficult for many of them to find gainful employment, they can't-"

"Mr. Potter," Sebastian interrupted more forcibly, "I don't really think this is the appropriate time or place."

"Then where and when is?" Harry snapped. His eyes found Draco once more and watched as the other man lifted his chin and inhaled slowly, deeply. And Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, looking down at his hands, "I apologize, I don't mean to be rude," he said even though it was a complete lie. "I must be feeling a bit peckish. Congratulations on your success," he managed.

"Yes, thank you," the other man said amidst a third round of congratulatory murmurs. "I think we're all a bit hungry," he chuckled. "Let's end early," he suggested.

Everyone was quick to pack up and leave, several people stopping to congratulate him but not a single one of them saying anything about orphans, or werewolves, or any of the other things that Harry hadn't managed to say.

Draco was talking to a wizard, patting him on the back and Harry pretended to be digging around for something important in his bag until that wizard left the room, leaving only him and Draco.

Their eyes caught and held, Draco looked at him helplessly and Harry broke. "I can't," he whispered.

"Not here," Draco said, voice soft and achingly tender.

He nodded and told himself that it didn't hurt when Draco simply walked past him and out the door. After another moment, where he let the emotions swirling inside of him rage, he took a fortifying breath and tamped everything back down.

Harry made his way out of the room, down the hall, and through the atrium; he was stopped every several feet by people wanting to talk to him, to have their minute in the limelight. When he'd started working with the ministry, he'd imagined that he'd be able to do anything he wanted because of these frequent meetings but none of them wanted to actually help. It was a game to them.

When he finally made it to the apparation point he barely had the energy to lift his wand and apparate home.

"Don't sit," Draco called when Harry's feet touched the floor.

He whined, "I'm exhausted."

"I know," Draco called back, "But we both know that rest isn't what is going to help you."

Harry wanted to argue, wanted to lash out. Godric, he was itching for a fight, desperate for an outlet. It's how he and Draco had gotten together in the first place, after the war and the trials. Fighting had turned into fucking which had turned into making love and now Harry could hardly imagine not loving Draco.

"I know," Draco repeated as he came into the living room where Harry was still standing in the middle of the floor. "Here," he said, holding out a pair of muggle jeans, a plain black tshirt, flip flops, and a pair of sunglasses. "Get changed."

Harry looked at him then, the other man was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a blue polo, blue sunglasses perched in his hair.

"What are we doing?" he asked even as he stripped out of his robes and the clothes he'd been wearing underneath.

"We're having a taste of someday," Draco said.

Harry paused buttoning his jeans and grabbed Draco's shirt, pulling him in and kissing him fiercely, pouring all of his frustration and desperation into the kiss.

"I know," Draco whispered, pressing his forehead against Harry's. "I know, love."

He swallowed and took a step back so he could finish zipping up his jeans and pull his tshirt on over his head.

"Ready?" Draco asked after he'd stuffed his feet back into his sandals.

Harry nodded eagerly and accepted Draco's arm.

When they blinked back into existence, they were on a bare, sunny stretch of beach by the ocean. "Give me your glasses," Draco said, holding out a hand.

"But I need them to see," Harry protested.

Draco rolled his eyes, but the fond curve of his mouth gave him away, "These," he said, holding out the sunglasses he'd brought down with Harry's clothes, "Are prescription sunglasses."

"You're brilliant," Harry breathed, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Sorry," he said, pulling back quickly remembering that they were still in public, even if the beach seemed deserted.

"Hey," Draco whispered, cupping Harry's cheek and drawing their lips together softly, sweetly, "This is someday, remember?" he murmured, lips brushing tantalizingly over Harry's before he leaned in and closed the distance once more.

Harry grasped his shirt in his hands and kissed him back for a long moment.

When he pulled back, Draco was smiling, warm and open and real, and a bubble of light expanded in Harry's chest. "Give me your glasses," he said again, holding out a hand.

He pulled them off his face and handed them over, accepting the sunglasses and watching as Draco carefully folded them and put them in a case. "Come on," he said as he shoved the case into a bag and held out a hand to Harry.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, reveling in the feel of Draco's hand in his, fingers entwined as they set off down the beach.

Draco smiled, "Right after the war," he said, "When I was trying to get my head on straight, I wanted to understand muggle culture."

"Oh?" Harry asked, greedily gobbling up every word out of Draco's mouth. They didn't talk much about the time just after the war.

He nodded, "You weren't there seventh year but what we were taught in Muggle Studies by the Carrows," Draco shook his head, "well, it doesn't bear repeating. And I wanted to know what they'd lied about; I wanted to see it for myself."

Harry squeezed his hand encouragingly.

"The new professor at Hogwarts who's teaching Muggle Studies now gave me port keys to different places that would let me experience muggle life."

"You did that by yourself?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed, "I know, it's outrageous to think about now, isn't it?"

"Sorry-"

He squeezed his hand and waved him off, "Don't be. It was crazy but I needed to see it, you know? The poor bloke I tried to pay the first time I had muggle food," he laughed again. "Oh Salazar, his face."

Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled this much, the muscles in his face actually hurt from disuse.

"Anyway," Draco continued, "This was one of my favorite places. I'd been taught that muggles were stupid and lazy, but this," he said as they walked around the corner and a boardwalk came into view. "It was magic," he said simply.

The scent of fried food wafted down the beach toward them and the sound of children's laughter reached his ears. "I've never been to the boardwalk," he said.

"You'll love it," Draco assured, tugging his hand.

Harry tugged back, pulling Draco around so he could kiss him. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Draco replied softly, bumping his nose against Harry's.

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

The afternoon stretched into evening, the sun burning red and gold, and setting the ocean on fire. Harry leaned against the railing and watched the sun setting as he stole bits of the funnel cake that Draco had purchased. "They're never going to listen," he said.

"Sorry?" Draco asked through a mouthful of food and Harry loved him all the more.

"I love you," he said simply, distracted.

Draco grinned at him, "I love you, too," he replied. "What did you say before that, though?"

"That they're never going to listen."

The other man frowned, "We don't have to talk about this now," he said. "We're in someday," he added.

"But I want to actually, you know," he said, gesturing vaguely, "get here someday."

"Politics take time," Draco said gently, in the way he had a thousand times.

And Harry recognized it was a product of his upbringing, that Draco had been raised from a very young age to measure every word that left his mouth, to look at a room and size up the people in it to know who was the most important, to make connections and build on them, to calculate every move he made. It's why seeing him here with powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth made Harry feel like he could fly; because Draco could be free when it was just them. And Harry knew from experience that he'd slip back into the role he played without hesitation or difficulty. He'd make a great politician.

But not Harry.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm done with that."

"Harry-"

"I'm running for Minister of Magic," he said.

Draco gaped at him and Harry stored that mental image away for a rainy day. "I'm sorry. What?" Draco asked.

"It's the only way that I'm going to be able to get anything done," he said. "I'm sick of the games."

"But the games are what you'll need to get elected," Draco said.

He laughed, "Nope. I'm pretty sure I've found what all that fame will be useful for. I don't need the support of the idiots who work for the Ministry, I just need the support of regular people. And I'm pretty sure I've earned that. Then once I'm in office I can fire all of them and put in people who actually give a shit."

Draco stared at him for another moment, "Are you sure about this?"

He shrugged and looked out over the water, "As sure as I am of anything."

"Anything?" Draco asked, bumping him with his shoulder.

The corner of his mouth curved up, "You excluded, of course."

"Of course," Draco echoed. "Fuck, Harry," he breathed, "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

He shook his head, "I think about where Teddy could have ended up if not for Adromeda and I can't sleep," he said. "I think of the way Remus was treated. And of the way the trials went after the first war, the way yours would have gone if I hadn't shown up." He rubbed his fist against the railing, "Every day I walk into the Ministry and I see that fucking fountain where wizards are stepping on other magical creatures, and I just," he shrugged, "I can't."

Draco shifted so he was behind Harry and wrapped his arms around his waist, hooking his chin over his shoulder. "I know," he said softly.

"Will you help me?" Harry asked.

Draco started nodding before he'd even finished the question. "Always, love."

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

part 1 | part 3

[straightupsickfics]

Hmmm, here’s an idea from that list I’d love to see written:

Steve: are you okay in there?

Bucky: can you bring me some tissues?

🥺🥺🥺🥺

ahhh this is kind of an old prompt now but i saw your post asking for a bucky fic and remembered i had it so! hopefully you still enjoy this little ficlet! <3

****

The barbecue is winding down as the sun finally starts to drop lower and lower in the sky, draping everything in soft, waning evening light. There's just a handful of them left out on their deck now, Sam and Nat and Rhodey and Tony, Steve's favorite part of any summer party, really. When it's just their small group of close friends left, the sun setting, and low, quiet conversation over the last few drinks.

Steve smiles when Sam takes a pile of dirty plates from him and carries it into the kitchen, offering a salute when Steve thanks him.

With that done, Steve grabs a few empty cans and walks them into the kitchen recycling bin. He's wondering what to tackle next when he hears Sam yell out bless you! once and then again, and follows the sound to the hallway bathroom.

"Thank something got to your other half," Sam tells him, nodding at the closed door.

Steve frowns. Bucky mentioned his allergies bothering him a bit this morning, but he'd been fine most of the day. Though by now, Steve knows even Bucky's prescription meds would be close to wearing off.

As if on cue, Steve hears Bucky sneeze a few more times in a row, all in quick succession.

“heh-EHhh–! hetSCH’oo! ehh… etCHishhh!”

Steve winces at the sound of them, ticklish and unrestrained, which definitely means Bucky is feeling bad.

"I'll leave you to it," Sam says, and disappears around the corner. Sam's a good guy, and he knows Bucky would hate the thought of having any kind of audience when his allergies were bothering him like this.

"Buck," Steve says, knocking quietly on the bathroom door. "It's just me," he adds. "Are you okay in there?"

There's a quick, sharp intake of breath followed by another set of three sneezes, wetter and a noisier sounding than the first few, like Bucky's nose is determined to get rid of whatever is bothering him as fast as it can.

"Hh! uhhISHooo! eeISHh! hehh… hetCHIShiiew! Snf! "M'alri-ihh! tsh! Alright. Could you bring mbe some tissues?" His voice is rough and already a little raspy.

Steve grabs the box of tissues from Bucky's bedside table and returns to the bathroom, letting himself in and closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Bucky looks about as miserable as he sounds, his nose is tinged pink and his eyes are teary and irritated. Steve passes Bucky the box of tissues and watches as he blows his nose and sneezes a few more times into them.

"How long have you been in here? You should've told me you were feeling all... itchy," Steve says.

"N'dot long," Bucky promises. He pitches the tissues into the trash can and blinks at Steve, rubbing at his eyes, then his nose, then sighing. "Hit mbe snf! all at once..."

"Don't rub, you'll make it worse, isn't that what you're always telling me?" Steve says, taking Bucky's hands in his and tugging them away from his face. He drops a kiss on Bucky's nose for good measure, and smiles when Bucky kisses him back.

"Might've said that," Bucky agrees. He sniffles again, but he seems to have the sneezes under control for now. Steve wraps him in a hug before opening the door again.

"I think everyone's getting ready to head out. We're just about cleaned up out there if you want to wait on the couch, we can watch a movie when everyone leaves?" Steve offers.

"Mmm, that sounds nice," Bucky nods. He kisses Steve again, a reminder that as much as he loves these moments with all their friends, he loves the quiet alone time with Bucky at the end of the night most of all.

[andypantsx3]

shoto and 'when i find out who is responsible for this...' IM A SUCKER FOR OVERPROTECTIVE SHO LMAO

This one was one of my faves to write, I really hope you like it!

Damage | Todoroki/Reader

Prompt: “When I find out who is responsible for this...” Word Count: 1600 words Tags/Warnings: SFW, ye olde quirk accident trope Notes: Special thanks again to my lady love @bobawithpomegranate for beta-ing me!! Also, for anyone who hasn’t suffered a corporate job: KPIs = key performance indicators, which are a set of business metrics used to measure success in certain areas.

The first sign that something was wrong should have been in line for security. 

Ayako—your favorite member of the Todoroki Agency security team—was waving a detector wand over your clothes when she asked casually, “How’s it going?”

Any other morning, your response was something along the lines of, “Oh, it’s going. How are you?” This morning, however, you blurted, “Good! Except that I bumped someone on the train and spent ten minutes trying to get a coffee stain out of this shirt, and I feel a little sick when I think about leading the KPIs review because Shouto’s property damage numbers are up again which doesn’t look great, so I skipped breakfast but honestly I’m super hungry right now, that was a bad choice, and—”

You cut yourself off, utterly bewildered. Ayako looked similarly nonplussed, raising a slim brow. 

“Uh, nevermind. I’ll just be going,” you said, and hared off to the rest of the security checkpoints before she could give commentary.

So you might have known that something was wrong even before you let yourself into Shouto’s manager’s office, armed with your monthly spreadsheets and performance slide decks. But you hadn’t given it more thought since then, a move which proved to be a complete mistake.

Shouto was already there, lounging in the set of chairs in front of his manager’s desk, looking less like a hero waiting for a meeting and more like some airbrushed ad for his dark turtleneck or his close-fit grey slacks. Your heart shot into your throat at the sight of him, like it usually did, and you had to remind yourself to relax.

Though he was unbearably handsome to the point of distraction, Shouto was relatively easy to get along with, something that should have made you calmer in his presence. He was straightforward, possessed of very little ego, thoughtful, and a very linear and strategic thinker—you’d worked extremely well with him the past couple of years, and Shouto, though he had less to do with the daily operations of the agency, had helped push your promotion last year to Director of Public Relations. It should have added up to an easy and uncomplicated work partnership, but his personality only made your unfortunate crush on him even worse.

He was so horribly, horribly perfect. And you were an awful little metrics gremlin, called in to roast him over the open flame of public opinion once a month. Really not something Shouto might be interested in.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up from his phone and fixing you with an intent look. Your heart stuttered under those heterochromatic eyes.

“Hi, Shouto,” you said, setting down your bag and digging out your laptop for something to take your attention off of him. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” he answered in his deep tone. “How are you?”

And that was it. The damning question that sent it all to hell.

“My heart feels like it could explode any second, and I feel kind of faint, weirdly weak, and incredibly distracted,” you answered, naming the symptoms of his very presence.

There was a beat of silence. You froze, crouched over your bag, laptop halfway out of it. Then it hit you what had just been said, and you slapped a hand over your mouth in horror. 

Shouto was up out of his chair in the blink of an eye, kneeling in front of you with cool fingers on your face, angling it towards him.

“You’re not well?” he asked, those eyes locking on you with an alarming intensity.

His attention only made things worse. “I feel like I might pass out,” you said, cringing even as the words left your mouth.

Fuck, what the hell were you saying? You were making it sound like you were some Victorian maiden, ready to swoon in the mere company of a gentleman. And why were you saying this shit? You’d worked with him for years and you’d never let slip the effect he had on you—what was wrong with you this morning?

You thought back to the coffee incident on the train this morning, the way the girl whose drink you had spilled had startled, the way she had weirdly apologized to you even as you were in the midst of your own apology.

A sense of foreboding settled over you. 

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“I think I’ve been hit with a quirk,” you blabbed.

Shouto’s features shuttered, a hard look you’d never really seen before entering his eye. He went over to his manager’s desk, dialing a number on her office phone, and then he was talking in low tones, asking someone from medical to come up to her office immediately.

Then he was back at your side, easing you carefully to the floor like you actually were in danger of passing out, and not just a huge idiot with an incredibly fat crush that made you say the world’s most ridiculous things.

“When I find out who’s responsible for this,” he uttered, low and dangerous, “they might never be able to use a quirk again.”

For some reason, the threat warmed you, even as it sent a little shiver down your spine. Was it weird to find him hot when he was angry?

You clamped your mouth firmly shut, lest you tell him exactly what illness prevailed you, but your silence was all for naught.

Because when one of the medical staff made it up to the office, pressing a quirk testing strip to your skin, she pronounced, “A truth quirk.”

Shouto caught your hand before it could smack into your forehead, looking surprised that he had done so. And then even more surprised at the pronouncement.

“A truth quirk,” he echoed, looking down at you curiously. His fingers were gentle where they held your wrist.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“But then, you’re still not well,” he said. He looked up at the medical staffer. “She’s feeling faint, and having problems with her heart.”

“She’s fine,” the staffer confirmed, holding up a scanner with your vital readings. They were embarrassingly perfect—incredibly, perfectly, damnably normal.

You could have died. You literally could have died.

Shouto looked down at you with a little wrinkle on his perfect brow, obviously wondering how you could admit symptoms like that given a truth quirk, only for there to be no physical sign of them. You tried to hold down the truth, but another question from him doomed you.

“But how?” he asked, clearly concerned, cool fingers smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I have an insanely huge crush on you,” you blurted. Then you unleashed a string of colorful swears, flushing so hot you thought you might catch fire.

Those heterochromatic eyes went a little round at the edges.

The medical staffer looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh as she bade a quick farewell. She was out the door before you could catch her sleeve and hold her like a shield against Shouto’s incredibly penetrating stare.

“I’m. Um. You know, sorry and everything,” you added. “I won’t let it interfere with work. I mean, I haven’t, any of the past couple years—fuck, oh my god, I just said that—”

Shouto was watching your mouth like he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of it.

“Say it again,” he said.

You paused, staring at him. “What?”

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“My heart feels like it could explode any second, and I feel kind of faint, weirdly weak, and incredibly distracted,” you answered obediently.

“Because of me,” he said, like it was a wonder.

You gave him an annoyed look. Obviously because of him, who the fuck else did he think wielded that combination of attractiveness and straightforward appeal like an S-class quirk of its own?

Shouto choked on a laugh, and you realized with some horror that you’d said all of that out loud. 

Damn the fucking truth quirk.

“I don’t know,” Shouto said, sounding amused. “I think I rather like it. When I find out who is responsible for this, I might have to thank them instead.”

This stopped you short.

He what now?

“I’m sorry, what?”

Something a little like a smirk curled the corner of Shouto’s mouth. “It is generally gratifying to know one’s feelings are returned, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I wouldn’t know—” you started, feeling annoyed with him again. Then you choked when the implication of his words sank in.

Shouto’s fingers slid down to cup your chin, and suddenly it felt like every nerve ending in your body was concentrated there, the touch magnified a thousand-fold into an all-consuming sensation. 

“Would you like me to kiss you?” he asked lightly, looking smug.

“Oh my god yes—” The answer was out of your mouth before he’d even finished the question.

Shouto laughed, and then he was leaning in. You could feel the smile still on his mouth when it met yours. Shouto’s kiss was careful and attentive, but you could sense something deeper beneath, the same kind of restrained sort of passion that underlaid his quirk. Having that kind of controlled intensity turned on you was something you could have never prepared for.

The kiss became deeper and more heated, and Shouto was just easing you backwards again, still pressed firmly to you, when the door opened and his manager blew in.

“This is a fucking office,” she said, stepping over the two of you like you were a grimy puddle in the street. “Now hurry the fuck up, we have KPIs to review. Shouto—don’t think this will derail me from your property damage numbers increasing.”

Shouto huffed into your mouth, slumping against you.

You couldn’t do anything but laugh.

Current event masterlist in pinned!

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.