#and i look forward to learning much more!

[betweenishish]

One of my hyperfixations is various cults and I have researched subsets like men's rights activists, flat earthers, neonazis, etc. The uniting factors between the people who are drawn to this kind of thing is that they feel: -Alienated by mainstream culture in a way that sends them seeking acceptance literally anywhere. Humans are herd animals, and people who are too weird or too much or too sad to act like the rest of the herd are shoved to the edge, which makes it worse. -Normal restlessness that was turned into radicalization by the welcoming arms of these fringe groups who, by design, appear so tantalizing on their face. It is much easier to sway or convince someone who is lonely and sad that you have the answers. -Left behind by the progress and 'elitism' of the mainstream. Many MAGA are holdovers from the rural, conservative strongholds (like the one in which I was raised) that provide a legacy of suspicion and old-fashioned biases blended with a lack of higher education. This leads to a parroting of bigoted rants or antiquated economic attitudes without any sort of reflection or critical thought because the nature of conservatism is a rejection of modern evolution. -Subconsciously bitter about the raw deal anyone younger than a boomer is getting. Though their grandparents might be well enough off, chances are there is only enough familial wealth left over to keep mawmaw until she passes, but nothing to bequeath to the kids or grandkids. Most of us are starting from zero. -Unable to articulate or express their anxiety about society or economics or environmental factors in a healthy or coherent way, which leads to a wholesale rejection of the idea. Climate change makes them anxious, so therefore there cannot be climate change. Hardcore rationalization is a way to protect the mind from unpleasantness, and it is something that every human does. I'm as angry as anyone that so many of those around me looked at what is happening and said "Yes, more of that" when they cast their ballot. On bad days the schadenfreude is the only thing that gets me out of bed. But ultimately, they are human beings as well, and some of them are learning some really hard lessons that I don't envy. No matter how ugly or wrong some of these people have acted, their children do not deserve this. MY child does not deserve this. The nasty urge to reject them out of revenge is understandable, but still wrong. So be angry. Wallow in your grief at what has happened, and then look for solutions. I have been following more politics than I ever wanted to. I donate to legal groups or the food bank or the homeless shelter and I put my friend on my Costco card so our group of ladies can pool their grocery budget for bulk items. I educate my kid and feed neighbor kids if they're hungry and support my local library. Most of all, I speak up when I see something wrong. I vote against racist school board applicants. I look out for minorities in public spaces. It hasn't been necessary in a long time but I put my body where my belief is and intervene if I have to. Fighting for our principles might not be safe, but it is right, and our former MAGA neighbors really need a good example to follow moving forward. Ultimately I'm just trying to be the bigger person; not out of pride or even compassion, but because I want my kid to live in a world that's not crumbling around her.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[amourcheol]

blurring the lines (teaser)

❝Why learn the complexities of desire all by yourself, when your dearest friend can merely teach you?❞

bridgerton! au | friends with benefits! au | smut, fluff | approx. 30k words (1.6k words for teaser)

s u m m a r y : you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.

c o n t e n t : best friend! joshua, best friend! soonyoung too, references of real erotic literature from the 1700s because this is not an amourcheol fic without historical accuracy, references of other members, lady whistledown will be present, soonyoung is the real mvp in this fic, shua acts like a man </3 mature warnings -> tons of sexual tension, making out, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (regency protection is goofy mb), mc experiences crazy overstimulation, corruption kink (!!!), more tba

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : bonjour hola bridgerton s4 sneak peak dropped which means i ofc had to drop a sneak peak of my own !! even tho i am over a week late !! send an ask if you wish to be tagged! hope you enjoy the teaser ;)

playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

"WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS?"

Involuntarily your eyes flickered to the table, and he followed, turning his head to the study, which he noticed immediately was tidied—tampered with. "You went through my things?”

“I did not mean to!” you exclaimed, gaping at his sudden charge towards the desk, you hot at his heels. “I just thought it looked like a mess, so I tried cleaning it—”

“You are not a servant,” he cut off, darting over the new order of his account books, as well as the fiction which you had assembled. “You are not required to look after me like that.”

“I know, but—”

“And sneaking out with my possessions? Without my permission?” He smacked the book on the table, making you flinch. “I thought you better than that.”

You were better than that—well, at least until tonight. You ransacked your mind for an excuse, any form of escape, except your words were absolutely pathetic. “You have never minded me reading your novels before,” you attempted. “In fact, you encouraged me to scour your shelves.”

He looked at the book again—a moment too long—and went back to set a slight glare upon you. “Well, my journal is not a trivial novel. It was private…not meant for you.”

You knew that. What did not settle well, though, was that your dearest friend, who had shared his every worry, his every confession to you, had been doing things you had no inkling of, things that incited such…extraordinary feelings from you. 

You had to know what more lay in those pages—and why you had felt the way you felt in those pages which your eyes did scour. “I read it.”

His glare faltered. “How much?”

That question was answered with another. “What was it, Joshua?” You stepped forward, a timid gesture, so you could catch a look at the hardback again. “I…I read some pages, and…what was she doing?”

His hand on his journal pushed it back. “I do not know.”

“Liar,” you got out, and he pursed his lips. You knew him irritatingly well. “You are keeping things from me.” 

“It is not keeping things from you,” he countered, frustration rising in his voice. “It is…protecting you from those…things.” 

“Tell me what those things are, Joshua,” you demanded, quietly but not softly. “It has rattled you enough. That has never happened to you.”

But he was silent. Eerily quiet, merely the rustle of his clothes, the soft thunk of his novella settled back with the French novels which raised your suspicions. A boundary made—a rejection established. 

Perhaps you would have respected it in another lifetime—in a world where you had not indulged your curiosity, set your eyes upon entities which were not for you to explore. Perhaps you would have respected it even if Joshua had offered to enlighten you—maybe blushed and ran away, and vowed never to look through his possessions again. 

The writings had rattled you, though, more than he realised. Social etiquette—good common sense would have expected you to respect his opinion, opinions of society, and drop the subject. 

Joshua Hong, however, was your greatest friend. No societal expectation could change that. 

So you opted to push the limits. Refuse the silence to be the end of this matter.

“I read enough, you know. To feel…” A pause. “I cannot even describe to you how I felt, because I have never felt that way before.” You tried to find the right words, a single confession out of order and he would stop listening—or so you thought. “There was an extract you wrote, Joshua, which had certain…descriptions…” Burning. Pleasure. Naked. Fire. Ecstasy. “There was a girl who was doing something. I am unsure what she was doing specifically, but…what she felt watching them…”

A soft exhale released from you, and almost instinctively Joshua released his own breath. “I think I…um, I think I felt a remnant of it.” 

He blurted out, barely a whisper, “You what?”

You looked at him—barely managed a nod. “I do not…don’t even know what she was doing with her fingers—” Joshua’s sudden coughing interrupted you, holding a fist to his lips to stop himself—“But whatever it was…I want to know what it was.” 

You watched the man stay deathly still, yet the emotions racing behind his face were certain. Not only were you rattled, but had passed this strange sensation to him. Had he never felt it before? You wondered, surprised by the similarity of his reaction to yours. 

He then responded to you, and you realised your mistake. “You cannot.”

Another boundary. Another opportunity to cross it. “Why?” This time, you stepped closer to him. “Why can I not know?” He was silent once more, and this time, you would not accept it. “Why are you hiding from me?”

“Because you are a lady!” he finally cut out, an agitated sigh coming straight after. “You are not to know such…such material.”

A lady…that you were aware of, but that still did not answer the question. Joshua watched, Joshua did whatever he had done to a lady. The answer was not good enough.

Judging by the increasing agitation in your friend’s countenance, he knew it too. It was at that point, though, when you truly noticed his harsh sighs, the tight fists—one at his mouth now trudging to the table, and the other secured at his hip—figure rigid. How affected he was by your questioning.

As if he mirrored the same sensations as you experienced.

“Is it…” You pursed your lips. “Is it because you were feeling them too?” 

A blink back—the only recognition of shock. You held onto this, continuing, “Tell me the truth, Joshua. You said yourself, no? That a lady cannot know, but you did not say a gentleman cannot either. You were feeling it too, were you not?”

His eyes were widening with your every word, and he stepped back, almost as if to run away. You did not need an answer from him now—it was abundantly clear that he had undergone such passions, as if it was not certain as you read it. There was only one question left in your arsenal now.

Joshua could have collapsed to the study floor. He heard the questions, and suddenly all he could do was gape at you. The determined curiosity in your eyes, the resolute stature of your body, closer than he last remembered. Oh, he would die before answering such a thing to you. He could not. He could not. 

“_____, it is late,” he began after a long time. The slight hope on your face leaving instinctively dampened his spirits. “It is already rash that you came here without a chaperone and I refuse to let you become the centre of ill conversation.”

And there it was. The supposed end. 

You did not realise how disappointed you were until you found your voice again, much graver than you expected. “So that is how it will be.”

Fine. If your best friend would not entrust you with such information, you would find the next person who would not be so apprehensive. A fortunate situation that you already had a man in mind.

As you turned on your heel, you heard him ask, “Where are you going?”

You did not stop your walk away, looking over your shoulder as you retorted, “To Soonyoung. At least he will be honest with me, if you choose not to be.”

He must have said something, but you did not deign to hear, only looking to the door, which was slightly ajar. You held your hand out, ready to open it further. 

Another force—another hand, larger than yours, slammed the door shut, jumping you out of your skin. Quickly you swivelled to see Joshua, breathing slightly uneven as his hand stayed right beside your head, resting against the wood. “Good God,” you got out, “What was that for?”

“You cannot go to Soonyoung,” he said instead, gaze frantic. 

You furrowed your brows. “Why?” 

He frowned. He could tell from your irritation that you assumed it was jealousy, a worse morphing of cowardice. It was not jealousy—nothing like that. Soonyoung was like a brother to him, and he knew that if there was anyone else you could have gone to without eliciting scandal, then it was that eccentric. He would explain everything to his friend, and be done with it without furthering his own curiosity. 

With that in mind, he would also tell you everything. Joshua was aware that there were skeletons in the closet of such matters, and your door was already slightly ajar. Should you go to Soonyoung to seek counsel, he would break down the doors, and suffocate you with the bones of such sensitive information.

What you asked was no normal feat. What you asked was sensitive. Precious. Soonyoung was trustworthy, but he was not careful. 

Joshua, on the other hand, was careful. Very careful, if he thought so himself. 

“He would not…explain it properly,” he offered instead. 

“At least he will explain it,” you countered, twisting your mouth. “I’d rather something than nothing at all.” 

His brows knitted together, desperation rising. “You have to understand me, _____.”

“Not after this.” You tried to avert his gaze, but his eyes—for the very first time—were incredibly hard to ignore. “Let me out the door.”

His reply, although perturbed, was clear. “I cannot.”

“Then tell me, Joshua,” you demanded. “Tell me what she was doing.” 

He should have stayed silent forever. What he should have done—as a gentleman, as you yourself had deemed him—was keep his mouth shut. 

A semblance of his sanity slipped once he uttered the fated words.

“She was touching herself.”

s e r i e s t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @smiileflower @ourkivee @alyssa19123456 @xylatox @lexyraeworld @fancypeacepersona @tjjth @zezedoesshit @ochidize @sankriin @okiedokrie-main @reiofsuns2001 @gyuguys @livixxn @livelaughloveseventeen @peepeepoopooharrie @shinaely @uhdrienne @maple249

[whitecompri]

Roller Trouble

Request: "Okay so this one is a little basic butttt can I ask for triple s and reader (could be separate or together!!) going roller skating?? But like reader slips forward and falls down on top of them? And they're all flustered"

Sonic, Silver and Shadow (Bonus: Scourge)

Pairing: Sonic x Reader; Shadow x Reader; Silver x Reader; Scourge x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Rating: T (Teen)

Warnings: Mild Suggestive Themes

Author Notes: I was really enjoying adding Scourge to my stories, I hope you don't mind me putting him as a bonus here, plus, I had a cool idea for him and couldn't leave him out. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for the request!

Sonic

He walked calmly beside you, occasionally holding your arms as you balanced on your skates. It had been a little while since you started learning to skate, and with the help of the blue hedgehog and his support, you could already go long distances on your own without his constant guidance.

At that moment, he was following a bit behind as you glided smoothly on your skates, having a great time. However, the speedy rodent had an idea that seemed brilliant.

Running up beside you, keeping pace, he flashed a small grin. "Hey, [Y/N], wanna race?" You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I don’t know, Sonic, I’m still learning. I don’t think I can go any faster than this." "Relax, you’re already doing great, and I promise I’ll go easy on you." He gave a wide smile, positioning himself to run. "Ready? Go!"

He dashed off without even waiting for you. You could only chuckle softly—it was obvious you wouldn’t be able to keep up, but it still seemed fun. "You blue cheater." You started picking up the pace, quickly heading toward him.

Sonic stopped a little ahead, tapping his foot on the ground, his back turned to you, a smirk at the corner of his mouth as you quickly approached.

That’s when you realized you should have declined the challenge—but now it was too late. Your feet were too slippery, and your lack of practice and skill made it impossible to stop in time.

Before you knew it, you were flying straight toward the blue hedgehog. Upon impact, he let out a small grunt of pain, sending both of you crashing to the ground with a thud.

Slowly, you opened your eyes after the shock, finding yourself sprawled on top of him. His expression was surprised, his eyes wide, and it was noticeable that, beneath his fur, his cheeks were slightly flushed. But quickly after that, he flashed a more amused grin, sitting up and helping you do the same.

"Wow, I didn’t know you liked me that much." He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck, looking away for a second, making you smile a little. "Sorry, I lost control." "It’s all good. I shouldn’t have challenged you like that. Are you okay?" He scanned you for any injuries. "Yeah, my fall was cushioned..." You laughed. "Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that one. Come on, let’s practice a bit more." Helping you to your feet, he assisted you in regaining your balance. "No races this time... for now." He flashed a mischievous grin. "And try not to run me over next time."

You playfully punched his shoulder, continuing to be guided by the blue hedgehog.

Shadow

You had spent a long time begging Shadow to teach you how to skate. After all, it was incredible watching him use his Air Shoes, and you definitely wanted to replicate that.

So, after a lot of persistence, the black hedgehog finally took you out to practice skating for the first few times.

Now, it hadn’t been that long since you started, but his guidance and patience were helping you improve significantly every day. He still held your hand constantly, making sure you moved at a speed where he could intervene if you lost your balance.

Whenever you seemed like you were about to stumble, you could be sure his hands would instinctively grab your arms to steady you. However, you didn’t want to just move at slow speeds forever—you wanted to push yourself, to start skating faster.

"Shadow... Can I try going around on my own?" "No." His response was blunt. "What? But why? I can already keep my balance. I can go one lap without falling." "You need more practice. A few times aren’t enough to say you know how to skate." He remained impassive, simply guiding you while holding your hand delicately. "Pretty please?" You pouted at him, making an adorable face in an attempt to convince the tough hedgehog.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and stopped. Then, suddenly, he let go of your hand. "Fine. But if you fall, it’s your fault... Just one lap, and be careful." He crossed his arms and stood still, waiting for you to go.

With a victorious smile and sparkling eyes, you slowly started skating around the rink, gliding smoothly. Then, as you tried to turn back toward him, your body tilted to one side, making you lose balance and stumble—heading straight toward Shadow.

You were about to crash into him, instinctively curling into yourself, bracing for impact. But at the last second, before you nock him to the ground, strong arms caught you, preventing your body from hitting the floor. Instead, you landed on something soft, followed by the muffled sound of a grunt.

Trembling slightly, you opened your eyes to find Shadow beneath you, his eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. He blinked once, then twice, before you quickly sat up in front of him, checking if he was hurt.

"Shadow, damn, I’m sorry! You saved me from a nasty fall." You said, holding one of his hands. With the other, he scratched the back of his neck before smoothing down his quills to keep them from getting messy.

Then, he looked into your eyes. You were surprised to find shock in his expression, along with a faint blush spreading across his entire face. He stayed frozen for a few seconds, as if putting the pieces together. Quickly, his gaze dropped to your hand in his, and he cleared his throat, looking away.

"Tsk... I told you that you needed more practice..." Even though he refused to look at you, the deep blush beneath his fur was painfully obvious.

"Sorry, I should’ve listened to you. I won’t try skating alone again without your help."

Shadow stood up, helping you to do the same. "It’s fine... I shouldn’t have let you go off on your own in the first place." Despite his firm words, you noticed his crimson eyes scanning you for any injuries. Finding none, he let out a relieved sigh, the redness on his face fading slightly.

"Can we keep practicing?" You asked hopefully. Shadow thought for a second. "I suppose we can stay a little longer... But I’m keeping an eye on you. I don’t want to see you falling again."

Shadow would never admit this to anyone, but just the thought of you getting hurt was enough to make his whole body tense—and turn him 200% more protective of you.

Silver

When you mentioned your interest in roller skating, Silver's expression lit up completely as his mind filled with ideas of all the quality time you could spend together while he taught you.

Silver wasn’t that skilled, but he was more experienced than you, so for now, he calmly skated alongside you, carefully holding your elbow and making sure not to make you fall.

"Very nice! You’re learning really fast. At this rate, you’ll be doing tricks in no time." He chuckled.

"Well, it’s all thanks to the best skating teacher I’ve ever had." You shot him a warm smile.

And so, the two of you kept gliding smoothly along the ground, going around the skating rink together.

"How about a break now? Let’s go back and sit for a bit, then we can continue later." He suggested, lightly tugging your arm so you could return to the bench in the park and rest for a while.

However, as you both moved, Silver accidentally pulled you a little too fast, making you lose balance and control, which in turn made you pull him back unintentionally, causing him to lose his footing on his skates as well.

"Oh man…" He muttered.

In the end, everything happened so quickly. You ended up bumping into him just as he was trying to steady you, and both of you came crashing to the ground with a loud thud. When you opened your eyes from the shock, you noticed something incredibly soft beneath you. That’s when you realized that your cheek was resting against something warm and fluffy, and as soon as it hit you that it was Silver’s chest fur, you quickly pulled away, lifting your face and looking down, only to find a completely frozen Silver.

His eyes were wide open, his mouth slightly ajar, and he was panting softly from the surprise. Beneath his fur, a deep red blush was unmistakably visible.

"T-this isn’t… I mean— I didn’t mean to… uh…" He stammered, his words tumbling out before completely failing him. "Sorry… I-I couldn’t catch you. I should’ve used my powers…" He averted his gaze, covering his muzzle with his hand, trying to hide the bright flush on his face, a single drop of sweat rolling down his forehead fur.

"Silver… it wasn’t your fault…" You gently cupped his cheek with your palm, making him look at you. "I didn’t get hurt because of you. Thank you."

It was clear that your words only made him even redder.

"Y-you’re welcome… I think."

"Come on, let’s go sit on the bench and take a breather." You knelt on the ground, holding his hand to help him stand up and regain his balance. Then, he also helped you, guiding you back to the safety of the bench with even more care than before.

Scourge (BONUS)

He wasn’t particularly into skating or anything similar, but still, he liked to tag along just to tease you and laugh whenever you took a fall—after all, you were still learning how to skate.

At that moment, you were slowly circling around the park, practicing your balance, while Scourge sat cross-legged on the grass, simply watching from a distance. And surprisingly, he was silent.

That is, until he sighed, stood up, and walked toward you, matching your slow pace.

"Ey, princess, how ‘bout we spice things up a lil’ and you pull off some real tricks on that ramp?"

You could only narrow your eyes at him.

"You just want to see me fall so you can laugh. I’m not bringing you next time I come to practice." You turned your gaze away from him, focusing on the path ahead.

"Wow, real cold. Don’t tell me ya actually scared of a lil’ ol’ trick like that? Thought ya had guts." He smirked, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face.

You tried to ignore him, focusing solely on your path ahead. Falling for his games was definitely not in your best interest. However…

"Aight, fine—this is borin’. Never skated a day in my life, but I already know I’d be ten times slicker and way more fearless than you, no contest."

It was an obvious taunt, given the way he stared at you, and there was no way you were letting that slide. Huffing loudly, you pushed yourself forward, skating faster toward the ramp.

Gaining speed, going up was easy, but the real problem came after. Your lack of skill in tricks made it impossible to land properly, and before you knew it, you were speeding straight toward Scourge, completely out of control.

The last thing you saw before impact was his rare expression of shock—right before crashing straight into him, making him grunt in pain.

And just like that, you found yourself lying on top of him.

The most surprising thing, though… As you looked at his face, while he scratched the back of his neck with his eyes closed, was the small blush dusting his cheeks beneath his fur. You stared at him, mesmerized by that tiny sign of embarrassment, watching as he remained like that for a few seconds. It was even noticeable when he swallowed dryly.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, he masked it away, his face shifting back into a playful grin.

"Damn, that was one helluva strike, huh, babe?" He chuckled lowly. "Tch, ya coulda at least asked me out before damn near flattenin’ me like that."

You raised an eyebrow at him. His flustered look was too good to last, after all. So, without bothering to humor him, you simply tried to push yourself up and get back to training.

However, the moment you tried to move away, two strong hands gripped your waist, holding you firmly in place against him.

"Feelin’ nice and cozy up there? ‘Cause I gotta say—I’m sittin’ real pretty right now."

In the end, the tables turned, and now you were the one blushing like a tomato, gritting your teeth and averting your gaze while he laughed in amusement.

[munsonsmixtapes]

I Never Got to Say Goodbye

ex boyfriend!eddie x reader

You see Eddie over a year after your break up and you both realize that you never stopped loving each other

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex, hurt/comfort, angst, a guy gets handsy with reader

You sit at your vanity in your room, dreading to get ready. You don’t even want to go out, but you feel like you have no choice. Your friends are trying to get you to meet someone new but how can you when you’re still not over your ex? 

You’re not even sure why you broke up anymore and you’re wondering if he feels the same. If he lies awake playing your breakup over and over, wishing that you would have just stayed together. But you suppose it was just a “right person, wrong time” sort of thing, that it was more the situation than anything that led to your relationship ending. 

You put on your makeup and get dressed as you put on the mixtape that one of your roommates had made for you. You’re dancing around as get ready, loving every song that’s been put onto it. She knows you so well, knows exactly what you like. But then you freeze when the familiar guitar riff floats through your ears. 

“I can’t dance,” you tell Eddie as he guides you around your living room. He’s trying and failing to teach you how to dance but he’s just so determined to show you how. 

“Sure you can,” he says, turning up the volume of the stereo before taking your hands in his. He steps forward and you step back as he guides you through the moves, being so gentle with you like always. “Eyes on me, okay?” 

You nod and keep your eyes on his pretty brown ones as he slowly shows you the steps. You’re not even sure how he learned this but you love seeing the fluid steps and wonder how he does it so well. There’s just so much about him that you want to know and you hope you’re together long enough to find out every single thing about him.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your flashback and you’re quick to turn off the music before hurrying to answer it. Janet is on the other side, a bright smile plastered on her face like always. You know she’s waiting on your to finish so you all can leave and you’re actually kind of pissed at her for not at least letting you finish your flashback. 

You’ve been having a lot of those lately. It’s like your brain is trying to torture you with all of the memories because it knows just how much you’ve been missing Eddie. You miss him so much that it actually hurts. It’s to the point where it’s gotten so painful to think about but you don’t want the memories to stop.

You grab your purse and follow Janet and the other girls out the door. Luckily, the club is just down the street so you don’t have to hail a cab to get there. They’re all talking about finding someone to hook up with but of course, all you’re thinking about is your ex and how much he would have hated a place like this.

Being in that close proximity to strangers-drunk strangers at that-was his worst nightmare and the loud music was so overstimulating which you totally understood. It was something that he would always push through for you because of how much you loved it and now you know you’re going to miss having him by your side, whispering silly things into your ear and staring down any man who even looked at you. 

As the four of you get in line, Violet slips some condoms into your purse that you’re sure you’re not even going to need but you let her anyway. It’s easier not to put up a fight, especially when they’re all just trying to help. 

The club is newer and allegedly very hard to get into and as you look up at the name, you notice that it sounds very familiar, something you’ve heard a billion times but you’re sure that it’s not actually what you’re thinking of. 

“Ed’s?” You ask with a laugh. “That’s the name of a bar, Eddie, not a club. And why do you want to own a club anyway? That’s not exactly your scene.” 

“For you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I want you to have a place you can call your own, where you can make the decisions. You always complain about the music and the prices and now you’d be able to have whatever you want.” 

“You’re doing this for me?” You feel tears welling up in your eyes at the gesture, wondering how you got so lucky to have someone who cares that much about you. That pays that much attention and is willing to drop a bunch of money just so you could be happy. 

“I’d do anything for you, you know that,” he winks and your heart flutters. 

“Ed’s,” you nod, having a newfound love for the name. “I like it.” You lay your head on Eddie’s chest while he runs his fingers through your hair, your favorite lullaby. 

“I thought you might.” 

You’re thrown back into real life to the bouncer outside the club asking for your ID. When did you get to the front of the line? Did you really zone out of that long? 

You shake the thought away and pull your wallet out of your purse, retrieving your ID and handing it to him. Once he sees that you’re of age, he hands it back and you head inside. As you walk through the doors and take in everything, you still think about how familiar everything looks, almost as if you’ve seen it before. But it can’t be what you think it is…can it?

Your friends have separated from you yet again so you head to the bar for a much needed drink. As soon as you sit at the bar, you look around and see just how busy it is. The bartenders are working hard to stay on top of their orders and as much as you really want a drink, you’re willing to wait as long as you need to. 

You pick up the menu and look at the drinks, the deja vu coming over you again as the names all sound familiar. They’re based on metal songs, songs that you’ve heard so many times you could sing them from memory. 

They would all play so loudly in Eddie’s car as you’d drive around town, screaming the lyrics as loud as you could through giggles because you were just so happy to be around each other. 

You haven’t even been able to listen to any of them since the breakup because it just hurts too much. At first, you were only listening to them because of Eddie, but over time, you really grew to appreciate the genre and even started listening to them on your own. 

Eventually, one of the bartenders comes over to take your order and your mouth falls open as you make eye contact with him. You definitely must be hallucinating because he looks so much like Eddie. As you stare at him, taking in his features, his longer hair, his beard, and nose ring, his own eyes widen which causes you to believe that he is in fact real. 

The last you heard, he was in Chicago. What was he doing back in New York? And why hadn’t he told you? Oh, that’s right. He probably doesn’t have your number anymore and considering that you haven’t kept in contact, you don’t really deserve to know what’s going on in his life anymore. 

And that just kills you. You wonder how much about him has changed besides his appearance. He obviously still opened the club even though you aren’t together anymore. And it seems to be doing really well so you can’t help but feel your heart swell with pride. He got everything he ever wanted. And the stab to the chest is that he didn’t even need your help to do it. 

“What can I get for you?” He asks and now you don’t even want a drink. You want him to sit next to you while you tell each other everything that’s happened over the past year. You want to tell him just how much you fucking miss him. 

“Rum and Coke,” you reply and he smiles, loving to see that you’re still ordering the same drink. 

“You got it,” he nods and moves around the bar, fixing the drink. You watch him, staring at his back, wishing you could hug him from behind like you always used to do. He’d just laugh and turn around , wrapping his arms around you and giving you a squeeze. You miss everything about him, but you’re pretty sure you miss his hugs the most. They were always so tight and long, his favorite way to show you just how much he loved you. 

Loved. As in, past tense. You never stopped loving him but you’re not sure if he still loves you. Considering how he’s been treating you like every other customer, you don’t think he does. You almost want to just get up and leave but he sets your drink on the bar in front of you. 

“One rum and coke,” he says, wiping his hands off on a towel and you can’t even look him in the eye. It’s just too painful. 

Eddie can’t fucking believe that you’re here. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since you broke up, well, more specifically, that day and how much he regrets the whole thing. It still plays in his head on a loop, torturing him. What he would give to go back in time and beg you to stay.

“So what are you saying?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Surely you’re not suggesting what he thinks you are. No way are you breaking up with him. You just can’t be. You’ve been through far too much to just give up on each other.

“I’m saying that what’s the point of even being together if we can’t be together? We’re both always busy and we see each other once every few weeks. That’s not a relationship Eddie.” He knows your right, but he’s sure that you just need to push through and you’ll get through it just like the two of you have every time you’ve had something you needed to work through.

“So you want to break up?” He almost looks like he’s going to cry and you just can’t bear to look at him if he does. You don’t need this to be any harder than it already is.

“I didn’t say that…but I don’t see any other choice.” You’re both crying now and the whole thing is just pitiful, the two of you looking at each other with tears streaming down your faces, having a conversation you never thought you would. 

“No. No, we can make this work.” He’s taking your hands in his and as much as you love that he’s fighting for you, you know you just can’t keep going like this.

“How?” You ask and he reaches up and wipes your tears, resting his hands on your cheeks. This is one thing he just can’t fix and that breaks you.

“I don’t know. I guess maybe it’s for the best,” he shrugs, finally seeing it from your perspective. He feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest and he’s not entirely sure what he should do about it. You’re always there to fix things for him and the one time he really needs you, you’re not going to be there.

“I guess so,” you sniff, the two of you now breaking into sobs, knowing that things between the two of you will never be the same. 

You moved your stuff out of his apartment that week and you both cried the whole time, the pain all consuming as he helped you pack up your stuff, being his sweet self which just added salt to the wound. You broke up with him and he still helped you move your stuff, being nothing but a gentleman about the whole thing. 

He didn’t even beg you to stay or anything like you thought he would. He just silently helped you pack stuff into boxes then put it all in the truck you rented. All he did was cry, not even uttering a single word to you as he did so. 

He hasn’t seen you since that day and he has no idea how you got even more beautiful since then. You’re wearing a pretty silver dress and the biggest standout is that you’ve cut your hair. The short style looks good on you, but Eddie thinks that everything looks good on you. 

He doesn’t know how he ever let you slip through his fingers, who he let you move your stuff out of his apartment, why he even went as far as helping you pack everything up. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do but he felt like it was the right thing for both of you. 

But now that you’re here tonight, he’s wondering if it’s fate giving him a second chance. God, if he’s offered one, he’s going to take it. Just thinking about it, he feels the weight on his chest lifting, like everything finally makes sense again. 

You’re sipping on your drink so elegantly, giggling with a man who’s now occupying the stool to the left of you. You seem to be having a good time and now you’re holding Eddie’s heart in your hand, squeezing it as you continue to giggle with the man and he can feel it, his chest aching as he watches you slip through his fingers once again. 

But as he’s turning his back to help the other customers, he sees the man’s hand sliding up your thigh and something about watching this happen is making his skin crawl. Just thinking about this guy touching you like that makes him want to break every single one of his fingers, especially because of how uncomfortable you look. 

You’re trying to scoot away but don’t have the strength, the guy grabbing hold of your arm and holding you there so you’re unable to move. Even from your profile, he can see the fear in your eyes as you try to push him off. 

 Eddie’s had enough of this and rounds the bar, grabbing hold of the guy and pulling him off the stool. As soon as he looks the guy in the eyes, seeing that he’s not even phased tells Eddie that he does this a lot and that doesn’t sit right with him. He’s seen red now as he holds the guy by his shirt and he knows he really shouldn’t but before he can stop himself, he raises his fist and punches him square in the face before letting security take care of him. 

He shakes his fist afterwards because of the tingly feeling just as you’re throwing yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you bury your face into it. He doesn’t exactly know what’s going on, pretty sure that you’re trying to thank him, but he doesn’t need it. He did it because it was the right thing and honestly would have done it for anyone. 

You pull away and Eddie feels every part of him ache when he sees that you’re crying. He notices your face change, your eyes widen as you slip your arms from him, almost as if you think that you’ve made a mistake.  

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as you step away, quickly adjusting your dress before wiping your tears from your cheeks. There was a time where that was Eddie’s job but being chronically single since the breakup, you’ve learned to do it for yourself again 

“For what?” He asks, tilting his head to the side as he slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans to prevent from reaching out for you. 

“For hugging you,” you reply as if it’s obvious, but clearly it’s not since he’s still looking at you like a confused puppy. Has he always been this adorable? 

“Baby-” he cuts himself off, the nickname coming so naturally like it hasn't been months since he’s called you that. “You can hug me anytime you want. Especially after that.” 

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “This is just weird for me, I guess. I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here and I guess old feelings are just flooding back.” You’re chuckling awkwardly like you shouldn’t be saying it, but it’s honestly music to Eddie's ears.

Eddie’s brain short circuits as you finish speaking. Old feelings? So you don’t still love him. You don’t feel the same way as he does and that absolutely kills him. This whole thing has just become torture but he can’t get himself to walk away because he’s still wrapped around your goddamn finger. Some things just never change. 

“Well, I um-” you cut yourself off, now feeling flustered. “I should get back to my friends,” you jerk your thumb over your shoulder and Eddie couldn’t be more disappointed. He really wishes he had more time with you, realizing just how much he missed you now that you’re leaving again. If he doesn’t say something now, he’s going to be kicking himself for the rest of his life. 

“Wait,” he calls after you and you turn around, clearly caught off guard by him still having something to say. “I get off in about an hour. Do you want to…go somewhere?” 

“Eddie…” You look hesitant, almost caught off guard and now he’s trying to think of how he can backtrack since he’s clearly made you uncomfortable. 

“I just want to talk.” You think about it and Eddie can practically see the gears turning in your head. You want to, you really do, but there’s so much that you want to say that you probably shouldn’t. 

You want to tell him how much you miss him, how you miss being wrapped up in his arms, the way he’d squeeze you tight before the two of you fell asleep. You miss the humming that he did or the tv constantly playing on low volume in the background because he hates silence. 

You miss his kisses and even though it’s been over a year since your last one, you still vividly remember what his lips felt like. They were almost always chapped and he often tasted like the mint gum he chewed to cover up the tobacco for you. 

“Okay, yeah,” you nod, craving to be in his presence so badly. Being here with him now, all of that anxiety and dread you’ve been carrying around with you is gone, replaced with warmth that’s spreading throughout your body, the calm that always coursed through you when you were around him. For the first time in so long, you finally feel like you’re home. 

-

Eddie’s feeling clammy as he stands outside the club. He’s smoking a cigarette to help ease his anxiety but it’s not working. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to talk to you. Maybe because there’s so much uncertainty. There’s so much he wants to say and he’s unsure how you’re going to take it all. He wants to tell you just how much he misses you, how much he still loves you. It’s fucking breaking him being apart from you and when you left, he felt like he lost his purpose, his passion for everything gone with you in the moving truck. 

And the thing is, he doesn’t even blame you for leaving because what else were you supposed to do? That’s what happens when people break up. He just wishes he had gotten the chance to say goodbye since you made the decision to leave while he was at work. He got home and all of your stuff was gone, those cute little mugs you had collected over the years gone from the kitchen cabinet, your books that you would read to him every night before bed disappeared from his bookshelf along with everything else that you owned. 

Seeing you tonight made his feelings for you even stronger and now he can’t even fight them off like he usually does. They have to make themselves known, wanting Eddie to not deny them anymore. He guesses he can’t now and he honestly has no idea what he’s going to say to you without looking like a lovesick fool. 

So he just continues to smoke his cigarette until it’s gone, then reaches for his pack to get another one when you exit the club, giggling with your friends before saying goodbye to them and heading over to him. You’ve gotten even more beautiful since he last saw you a couple hours ago and it hurts so bad knowing that he can’t have you. After getting your closure, the two of you will go your separate ways and Eddie will go home to a bottle of tequila and put on the mixtape he made for you while he drinks until he cries himself to sleep. 

He’s pathetic and he knows it. He’s imagining you telling him that you miss him too then sharing a kiss that’s filled with fireworks. He really needs to get a grip and stop wishing for something that will never happen.

“So,” you speak up, standing there awkwardly as you fiddle with the strap of your purse in your hands. “Where are we going?” Eddie completely forgot to come up with a spot and now he’s panicking, saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“Dina’s,” he says as he takes one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out underneath his boot. Your eyes widen at the name, memories flooding your mind of sitting in your favorite booth, the two of you giggling over pancakes and a milkshake with two straws. 

Eddie suggesting that place is like a stab to the gut, too painful to go there and try to relive the good memories of your failed relationship, but you think that maybe it won’t be too bad. 

“Dina’s, wow, I haven’t been there since-” you cut yourself off, wondering if this is even a good idea, talking things over with your ex, bringing up the past as you both mourn what could have been. You’re just not sure if you should be doing this. Maybe it’s not too late to catch a cab and go home.

“Since our anniversary,” Eddie finishes, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, seeing that you’re not wearing one, your shoulders bare, your arms wrapping tighter around your body to try and warm yourself up but it’s not working. It’s taking everything in him not to give you the jacket right off his back but he knows you won’t take it, too stubborn like always. 

“Right,” you nod, knowing that this will be nothing like that. It will just be an awkward and painful conversation that you really wished you hadn’t agreed to. You have tried so hard not to think about Eddie, pushing out every single thought you’ve had but there is always going to be little pieces of him sprinkled into your life. Whether you like it or not, there’s always going to be something that reminds you of him, taking you back to that painful place where you left him as you moved out that day. 

Eddie leads you to his van and you can’t help but feel like this is a date. You wish it was, though. Maybe you’ll be able to turn everything around and he’ll be your boyfriend again. Or your friend at the very least. 

He opens the passenger door like he always used to and helps you into the van and it’s just like old times. You look around the van as he rounds the hood and it looks exactly the same, the stickers that have been on the dash since you’ve known him are still there, even the ones you gave him. 

They’re curling up at the edges, the adhesive wearing off, but that only means that he’s loved them so much that they’ve been there a while. You run your fingers over them as Eddie gets into the driver’s seat, watching you from where he’s sitting with a smile that’s filled with admiration. 

He starts up the van and catches you singing along to the next song on the tape he’s got in. It’s the last one you made for him that he plays in a loop because apparently he loves to torture himself. It’s got his name written across it in your handwriting with sloppily drawn hearts all over it. 

He can’t keep that stupid smile off of his face and joins you, both of you laughing through your duet as if no time has passed. Things are so different now but one thing you at least know for sure is that Eddie still loves ABBA. 

You sing the rest of the song, your laughter fading away as another one starts and now it’s just awkward silence. Neither of you know what to say even though you unknowingly still love each other. If only the two of you could get over your anxiety and just say it already. 

But you can’t. You won’t. You already hurt him once and you’re not going to do it again. He’s doing so well and you’re not going to stumble into his life and claim your have feelings for him when he’s definitely over you. 

If only you could see how lovesick Eddie still is. If only you could get back all the cobwebs that have gathered in your past and see the future that’s right in front of you. Eddie is still as head over heels for you as he’s always been. He never stopped loving you even when everything went to shit. He’s tried, god, he’s tried. He’s wanted to forget you, but you’re always still there, stuck in his mind forever. 

He pulls up to the restaurant and you’re thrown back in time again, another flashback that you can’t seem to escape as much as you want to. You remember the tender touches of your hands across the table and the loving stares and now you’re just sitting across from each other like two people on a blind date. 

You hate that you still remember your exact orders even though you haven’t even thought about this place since the last time you sat in this very booth. His hand is resting on the table as he looks at the menus and god, you just want to reach for it, to know if they’re as rough as you remember. You hope he still uses that lotion you always used to buy him. 

He’s sitting there, looking so pretty with his hair tucked behind one ear, moving an unlit cigarette between his fingers that’s always been a nervous habit. You hate that he’s nervous but you completely understand why. This is uncharted territory. You’re completely different people now and this whole thing was completely unplanned. 

You mimic him and look at your own menu but you’re not even hungry. You’re actually feeling sick thinking about why you’re actually here. You’re nervous as shit to have this conversation. You just know he’s going to break your heart and you suppose you can’t even be upset with him since you deserve it for leaving him all that time ago without even so much a goodbye. But the thing is, you actually actually left because you were terrified to see the look on his face so you fled to avoid the pain of seeing how heartbroken he was. 

“So,” he says, taking a deep sigh as he sets his menu on the table, looking you in the eyes as he does so. 

“So,” you repeat in the same fashion and furrow your eyebrows when he brings his hands up to cover his face, scrubbing at his eyes. He then slaps his hands onto the table which startles you, looking at you with that fire that you’ve missed the entire night. 

“I’ve gotta be honest,” he says, his gaze still burning into yours. “I’ve missed you. Like, so much that I can’t even stand it.” He knows that it’s rushed and that he probably sounds crazy and eyes widen at his confession, he’s terrified that he’s scaring you away. God, he’s driving you away again, fucking up one more time before you leave his life for good. He just can’t seem to get it right. 

Before he can even finish his speech that he’s been writing in his head for months because in the blink of an eye, you’re sitting right next to him, a goofy but adorable grin on your face. He has no idea what’s going on but he sure as hell isn’t going to deny you being in such close proximity to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he replies, nervous all over again because even though you’re smiling at him, he can’t help but feel iscared that you’re going to slip through his fingers. “I-I don’t know why I said that. I just-”

“Eddie,” you cut him off, your hands cradling his cheeks like they used to and his eyes widen as he stares at you, wondering what you’re going to do next. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice small for the first time tonight. 

“Will you please just shut up?” You ask before pressing your lips to his, pouring out all of your repressed emotions for the past year pouring into it and you don’t even care that you’re crying. You just need this and apparently Eddie does too because his arms are wrapped tightly around you, his own tears trailing down his cheeks as he involuntarily whimpers against your lips. 

This is the best way he’s ever been shut up in his life and it’s crazy to him just quickly you’re both able to do this after so long, picking it up like it’s nothing. It gets progressively more hungry and as you’re sticking your tongue into his mouth, you suddenly realize where you are, deciding that you can’t exactly do what you’re doing here. So you stand from the table and offer him your hand which he gladly takes. 

You’re both out the door in a flash and as soon as you’re heading down the alley between the diner and the other building, you’re pulling Eddie into the dark, pressing yourself to the wall as your lips find his again, somehow even more hungry than before. You’re both crying again but you’re too caught up in your need for each other to be embarrassed. 

His hands are sliding up your dress as he kisses down to your, nipping at whatever skin he’s able to get his teeth on as he goes. It starts off as gentle kisses as he murmurs the words “I missed you” against your skin but it gets progressively more intense as he begins to suck on your skin, making your brain feel fuzzy. 

“I missed you too,” you moan as he pushes you gently against the wall. He’s pulling down your thong and you let him despite being so out of practice that you’ve felt so nervous about sleeping with anyone else. Being with Eddie, though, just feels so right. 

You unbutton his jeans and pull them down with his underwear, so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t even notice that he’s slid himself inside you, both of you grunting at the tight fit.  

He’s moving slowly at first but progressively gets faster, missing the feeling of being inside you, missing the way you moan, the way you grab onto him, scratching up any part of him you can get your hands on, missing you. God has he missed you. It feels so right being here with you now.

He’s moving so fast, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pumps and pumps, his lips finding yours again, biting down on your bottom lip as another moan slips past your lips. It’s loud and he’s eating it up, wondering how much more he can get out of you before you’re absolutely spent. 

You’re close already but to see how long you can hold out. You’ve gone so long without him between your legs that it doesn’t take much for you to orgasm, to completely undone as he bottoms out inside you. He’s still going as you whine his name, pumping in and out, in and out until he reaches his own orgasm, moaning so loudly that you’re almost concerned that someone is going to hear him. 

The words “I love you” fall from his lips and you melt when you hear them, so happy that he still feels the same way, that the love you have for each other has never faded. You’re both smiling now as you pull him into another kiss, mumbling the words back to him against his lips. A laugh escapes his lips as he pulls away and he picks you up and spins you around. He’s the happiest he’s been in so long. 

“C’mon, angel,” he says, grabbing hold of your hand and leading you back to his van that’s around the corner. “Let’s go home.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn't much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Note: :)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your sweat dampens the folder in your hands. You shift in the chair and wiggle one foot, a leg hooked over the other to keep you from jittering all over. You look up and down the hall. Men in suits and women in dresses and skirts strut by now and again, silent as they're preoccupied with their business. Just as you are with the task before you.

You don't remember being this uneasy before... well... you take a breath and steady yourself. You uncross your legs and set your feet flat. You stare at the gold plaque mounted on the door. You used the cheap Polaroid phone to confirm your arrival as noted in the email. You press the cell to the folder, gripping both tightly. You've faced worse than a man in a designer tie.

The door opens and you flinch. You stand up as a man emerges. You recognise him from the website where you found the job posting. You offer your hand. He ignores it and says your name.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you reply, checking the door plaque to be sure.

"Let's not waste any more time," he waves you inside.

You nod and step past him. You grit your teeth as you enter the office. It's small and the windows brighten the space from behind plain white curtains. There's not much to the small space; an empty desk, a short filing cabinet, and a chair. There's only one other door.

"In there, please," he directs with a point over your shoulder.

He shuts the door behind him with a snap. You wince again and keep going. You enter the dimly lit office. Only the vintage table lamp gives light to the space next to a fancy monitor, unlike the boxy ones you're used to.

He sidles past you as you stop short. He goes around the desk and drags his hand down his tie. He sits and gestures to the chair across from him. You admire the sleek pen in its gold holder and paper weight in layered jade.

"Um, oh," you come forward in your rubber-soled flats, "I have a copy of my resume. And cover letter."

"I've both," he assures as he wiggles his mouse beneath his long fingers. It's one of those smooth white ones where you can't even see the buttons.

You watch him as you wet your dry lips. He's a tall man, slender but not gawkily so, and his dark hair is long but well-kempt, tucked back behind his ears. His cheekbones are sharp, his nose aquiline, and his eyes are a bold green, giving colour to an otherwise pale face.

"I've got quite a bit here," he intones as you hug the fold, the phone slipping into your lap. "Hm, rather much..." his eyes scan the screen. He's not looked at you since he came out to get you but you don't even know that he did then.

"Sir," your eyes drift guiltily. You already know what's going on.

"Armed robbery," he slithers. "Five years."

You nod and swallow, "sir, I-- that was-- I'm out now."

"Hm, so you are," he lifts his chin.

"Mr. Laufeyson, I spent my time in prison learning. I took several courses in administration, including personal and corporate accounting--"

"Yes, I'm certain you are eager to see the numbers," he turns and his eyes meet yours. His accusation stings.

"I'm... not into that anymore. I made a mistake--"

"With a gun. And fellow mistake-makers," he insists.

You deflate and blink as your eyes fall to the front of his desk. You swallow. "You're right, sir. It was more than a mistake. A crime. Which I served time for. I'm so thankful no one was hurt but I am aware that it was dangerous and unfair to everyone involved."

"Well, you certainly are eloquent," he muses.

You scrunch up your mouth. If you were the girl that was sentenced in cuffs, you'd tell him to shove it up his ass. That girl is gone, that fire extinguished. The outside is so different now. It's like another prison where you can't do anything without permission.

"Thank you, I guess." You stand. "Thank you for your time."

"I didn't say we were done."

"You didn't, sir, but, respectfully, I don't have the time to waste. I have to report to my parole officer and find some more interviews." You sigh, "I need a job and if this isn't it, then I'd hate to waste both our time."

He snickers, "and when did I say you didn't get it?"

You lift your eyes, "you didn't..."

"Please, sit. I suppose you did come all the way here. You are... behaving. So, let us proceed at least with a few real questions," he sits back, and elbow on the armrest as he twiddles his fingers. "Not to twist the knife but you mentioned parole. Would that interfere with fulltime hours?"

"No, sir, I only need to submit the schedule," you say as you sit back down.

"Mm, sir. You took some etiquette class in prison?" He wonders.

"Not formally," you reply.

He snorts, "right then. I did review your credentials. You'll be providing mostly admin support, not much accountancy, you see that is my role. I am certified in the matter and my clients are rather important. I can't have a convict at the bank roll."

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"Mm, well," he leans his chin in his hand and taps his fingers thoughtfully. He sits up and rolls closer to the desk. "I rather abhor these interviews. I suppose we all deserve second chances."

Your lashes flick in surprise, "are you offering my the job?"

"I am," he affirms.

You push your shoulders up and can't help but smile, "I promise, you won't regret this."

"Yes, I hope not," he drones. "Go on, I've work to do. Not least of all, drawing up your employment contract."

"Sir," you stand and juggle the folder and your phone. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. There is a probationary period. I expect you on time and professional." He sniffs, "oh, and dressed to office standards."

You look down at your borrowed clothes. The blouse is plain beige, the pants heavy wool, and the shoes a bit clunky. You thought it was okay.

"My clients expect a certain level of class."

"Yes, sir."

"I will provide an advance for this purpose. I understand you might not be in a position to afford it as yet," he looks back to his screen, "it will be in the contract."

He doesn't glance at you again. You take that as a dismissal. You thank him once more and spin on your heel.

As you get to the next office, you exhale in relief. You don't know what Dina would say if you came back with another rejection. If you don't meet parole terms, you could end up right back where you started.

💼

The email comes and dispels the last of your disbelief. It's real. You have a job. It might not be the best. The work and the pay isn't what worries you, rather your boss. He reminds you of a warden himself. You were hoping to be done with those.

Dina congratulates you but not without a stern warning. Don't mess it up. She looks over the contract with you, commenting positively on the advance. She suggests that some employers are sympathetic to people like you.

You take the money and head out to buy work clothes. You're uncertain at first. You don't think the thrift shop or Walmart fits the bill. He sure wrote a big check. After cashing the check, you bring up google maps and wait at the bus stop.

As another person comes to the shelter, you move away from it. Now that you're out, you get claustrophobic a lot easier, yet dizzy at how open everything is. You're still getting used to this all. Especially the idea that you're only responsible for yourself.

You hop on when the bus rolls up and transfer to the next. You get off and find yourself before a boutique. A woman struts out and you shy away. You see your reflection in the window and sigh.

Mr. Laufeyson didn't hire you to look like those women. You just have to get some nice clothes. You enter and give a sheepish smile as a woman perks up behind the counter. Reticence shades her expression, then disapproval. She stomps out in her heels.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Uh, sure, yeah," you look down at your feet and back at her again. Prison was easy compared to this. You could steel yourself against the guards, even Millie when she tried to steal your brownie, but this makes you feel small. "I just got a job and I need some clothes. I could really use some help."

Honesty seems the best tactic. It was the lack of which got you into all of this. That and your own bad decisions. Your selfishness. If that gun hadn't jammed.

"Work? Well, that's nice. A new job," her eyes flutter, her voice brittle. "I suppose we have what you're looking for. What kind of work?"

"Admin," you answer and clutch the strap of your satchel. "It's uptown, so..."

"Ah, I see. Executive Assistant?"

"Not quite," you answer. "I'm not... I'm not really... into fashion."

For five years, you wore a uniform. All these wraps and frills and slits are confusing. She guides you toward the wall where a rack of blouses hangs in white to just slightly beige. You look at her, she looks good, her clothes are stylish, you'll have to trust her on this.

"So, what kind of admin?" She asks.

"Accounting," you answer.

"Mm, stuffy," she chuckles. "Well, let's see. White. Always need a white blouse. A black pair of pants, and a skirt too, then you can build from there." She pauses and glances at you, "we don't have sales in here."

You don't take it personally.

"I have money," you assure her and take out your debit card.

"Hm, well, these are very expensive pieces. You might find a department store at the mall?"

"I came all the way here," you counter, bristling. If this was inside, you wouldn't back down, so you won't now. "I need clothes, you sell clothes."

"Alright, sure, hun," she grins sardonically

"Thanks, hun," you shoot back.

She turns and selects a grey satin skirt. It's pretty enough. You cross your arms as annoyance ticks in your cheek. You try to remember the exercises they gave you in the release program. Count and breathe. It's not worth it to get mad.

"If you see anything, feel free to let me know," she trills.

"Is there anything, I don't know, some patterns?" You ask.

"Ah, I didn't see you in polka dots," she intones.

"This is nice," you touch the brown plaid blazer.

"Oh, very... chic," she comments dryly. You're not liking her attitude. Heat gathers under your collar as you trail her. "Are we trying these on?"

"You don't think I'll pop the tags off and run for it?" You snip. "I'll just pay."

"Exchange only."

"Whatever," you huff.

You go to the counter and tap your card on top. She comes up behind it and gently folds each piece. Three blouses, the blazer, two skirts, and two pants. It will do. 

"I hate to ask anything else of you but do you know where I can get a nice bag?" You take the debit machine and insert your card.

"Oh, sure, there's the shop across the street. Make sure to leave your bags at the front."

You shake your head and put away your card. You accept the two shopping bags and receipt. You thank her despite her attitude. If she only knew what that would get her inside. You almost want to give it to her.

Calm. Be calm. You're not her anymore. You're changing. Beating up a shop clerk won't help you keep this job.

You leave and cross the street. You get much the same reaction as before. You pick out a brown leather bag with a gold emblem and two pairs of heels you think you can handle. You leave, defeated but not without your prize.

You walk back to the stop and sit on the bench. You stare off into traffic as you wait. You'll have to get used to it. You sort of are. Lots of inmates stared you down and you learned not to show any fear. Not if you wanted to survive.

[tartagliove]

i've been thinking about farmer boy!ajax...

stardew valley au ✧ fluff ✧ 0.6k words

The little cabin before you could use some work. There are holes in the roof, where tiles have been torn off from wind and rain and time. They match the porch that wraps around the front of the small building, wooden floorboards missing and broken—the perfect trap for you to twist your ankle in. You'll have to watch your step.

Despite all of this, the cabin is charming in its own little way. Windows line each wall of the house. Although dust and cobwebs cling to the glass, they just need a good scrub before sunlight will stream inside all day long. You'll get the best view of the sun rising and setting upon gently sloping fields, which someday will be vibrant with colors and life.

That's the dream, at least.

For now, it's just you and the run-down cabin that could use a bit of love and work before you turn it into your new home. You, your cabin, the birds that warble a high-pitched melody from the trees, and the ginger-haired boy who leans against the rotting wooden fence that lines your property.

You flinch in surprise, spinning to face the stranger.

The first thing you notice is that he's not a boy at all. He certainly looks young, with tousled coppery hair, blue eyes that remind you more of the ocean than the sky, and rather fair skin that is interrupted by constellations of freckles. But the well defined muscles that flex and shift under a pair of denim overalls, and the handful of scars that litter his body only point to years of hard, physical labor.

He holds himself with ease, resting his forearms on your fence. This only serves to broaden his shoulders as he takes his time studying you as you've been doing to him. His eyes seem to blaze a trail as they roam across your body, taking in the nearly pristine sneakers and the stiff new backpack, along with the long-sleeved shirt that clings to your arms from humidity and sweat of the countryside.

"What's a pretty city-dweller like you doing out here on an abandoned farm, hm?" he asks, one brow raised, amusement dancing on his lips.

You fiddle with your fingers, the flutter that runs through you at the hidden compliment overridden by embarrassment that he's already able to tell where you're from. You look nothing like the seasoned farmer that he is, his fingers calloused and scarred.

"It's not abandoned," you say, a bit of indignation in your voice as you straighten your back and stare at him in determination, unwilling to flinch from his all-consuming gaze. "Not anymore, at least. I live here now."

A smile properly stretches across his face. "Oh, really? That makes us neighbors, then. I’m Ajax."

He offers his hand, and you take a few steps forward to grasp it. His grip is warm and firm; a bit rough compared to your own. You shake, once, twice, then release, pulling your hand behind you as if it will help you forget the feeling of his wrapped around yours.

He chuckles and tosses you another grin, pleased. "I’ll see you around then, farmer."

His taunting tone is irritating. The heat you’re feeling is certainly not due to the way he walks away, well-defined back framed by the blue straps of his overalls.

You don’t learn much about your new neighbor from this interaction, but you are sure about one thing. He certainly is not just a farmer boy.

[ninyard]

a thought that's been spinning around in my head is what if jeremy did relapse? like what could drive him to that and how he would move forward considering the whole self hatred of "i'd rather die than be that person again" and shame in asking for help bc "ill never forgive you if you backslide"

OKAY so i’ve been sitting on this just thinking about it for a few days and although it’s not a theory that i believe would/will happen, it’s one of the few ideas i can come up with as to what could cause him to backslide

(i do believe him when he says he won’t. but god, for my own selfish reasons, do i want to see him crash out monumentally)

SO

Jeremy’s mom/stepdad stop allowing him to stay over at Laila/Jean’s place because of what happened to Bryson, how dangerous they think it could be, and how dangerous they think Jean is. Everything that has happened has made their control over Jeremy a thousand times worse. It’s torture for him, his final year, commuting to and from the university every single day for practices and that’s it; no parties, no free time, just practice, and classes, and then home. He’s forced into isolation, almost, but he still talks to the guys on video calls, and lies about having practices that don’t exist just so he can see them. But it’s few and far between. For him, mentally, it takes a huge toll. He hasn’t felt depression like this in a long time, if ever, really. It’s not good - He’s stuck with Bryson far more often that he’d like, and the only solace is those few hours a day where he gets to relax with Jean, Cat, Laila, and the few trojans he gets a chance to see outside of practice.

The guys notice this heaviness in him; Laila in particular gets worried to a point where she shows up at his house a handful of times just to make sure he’s okay, but the Wilshire household is a hostile place for her to be, and Jeremy hates her being around them if it at all can be avoided. Even the diplomats daughter excuse fails Mathilde and Warren: Jeremy has to focus on his LSATs, and he can’t afford outside distractions stealing his attention.

Jeremy pushes sitting the exam further out, and further out. He comes up with all the excuses he possibly can until he’s exhausted every single one, and with Bryson’s threats, he fails the first exam he sits. and it makes everything so much worse.

His phone is taken away from him at night, he’s not allowed to go for runs when he’s unaccompanied or without sharing his location the entire time. Everything the same as it’s been, but amplified, so much more suffocating than what’s healthy.

While all this is going on, the Trojans are doing well. They make it through to the Spring championships as expected, and one night Mathilde allows him to stay at Jean’s place, with the condition that he’s home by 10am the next morning. Its supposed to be a night of relief, a well deserved day off, but he cries in his friends arms and tells them that his family is destroying his life, and he doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t know what to do. Laila only looks at him with mild dissatisfaction as he spends most of the night sitting on the balcony, or out the front of the building, with cigarette after cigarette between his lips. They try to come up with a million ways to get him out of there but he knows none of them will work - he’s trapped, and there’s really nothing he can do.

Bryson corners Jeremy again, when he learns that he’s finally taking a resit exam, and tells him he has to fail this one too. Jeremy almost accepts the consequences of not doing what he says, that some planted coke or pills would be far less of a punishment than living in this prison is, but he takes the test, and he fails. It’s only half intentional, too. His mental health is in the gutter, because he’s a social butterfly, and he needs people around him to feel like himself. how can he focus on studying when he’s spending most of his days bored and resisting the temptation of the escape promised to him all those years ago?

The Trojans qualify for the semi finals, and then they qualify for the finals. It’s the Trojans V Penn State, or by another miracle, it’s the Foxes again. The date has been set. It’s a Friday, the same time of year that it usually is. It’s hard to enjoy the well earned chance at victory when he’s spent most of the year just trying to survive that big house with all its empty rooms and ghosts that walk the halls.

Warren has had enough of his failures, of course he has, the silly achievements of college sports irrelevant on his tall ladder of expectation. Jeremy spends a full night being berated, and belittled, called every name under the sun, full of vitriol and hatred for the disappointment of a son who refused the name of success and landed himself in such a position. Twice? He’d slammed Jeremy’s poor results on the table in front of him. Are you stupid, or do you faggots just get off on being embarrassments?

That night he texts his old dealer from high school, but when the response dings into his inbox, Jeremy deletes the message. He can’t. He thinks about Noah, and he thinks about everything riding on his sobriety. He can’t. He can’t do it.

But he wants to, so badly, and after that, he spends every waking second trying to prevent himself from asking again.

A morning or two later, Mathilde neatly sticks a sticky note to the top of the LSAT guides Jeremy has been pretending to study.

“What is that?” he asks, a date and time scribbled in her fancy scrawl across the green paper.

“It’s your exam, because you insist on avoiding it.” She says, turning around to do something else, like this was unimportant and meaningless to her. “I took the liberty of booking it for you. You aren’t going to fail this one.”

Jeremy picks up the piece of paper and stares at it. “I can’t do that date.”

“That’s too bad,” She almost laughs, sickly sweet. “It’s the only one they had this side of the month.”

“No, mom, I can’t do this date.” Jeremy’s head is in his hands already. This can’t be happening, and he doesn’t have the energy to argue anymore. “We’re flying out to Pennsylvania the night before. We play that evening. It’s the finals.”

She shrugs like that meant nothing to her, and Jeremy isn’t stupid enough to be surprised.

“Well,” She puts a hand on his head and endearingly rubs a thumb over his forehead. “You should have thought about that before failing the other two, Jeremy.”

He calls Cat as soon as he manages to pull his head out of the clouds of disbelief. It’s not long before the other two are on the other end of the line begging Jeremy to just leave, and they’ll figure it out later.

But he thinks of his life, that rides on a good relationship with the Wilshire empire, his reputation, and the Wilshire’s ability to ruin any potential recruitments he might have dreamt about in the future. One leaked document and every pro team in the country will know about Jeremy’s past, and his multiple run ins with the law. He thinks of his documents hidden under floorboards he’ll never find or safety deposit boxes he’ll never have access to. For a moment he wishes David Wymack had spent his time coaching a pro team, so maybe then he’d have a chance. He spends all his time agonising, trying to find a way, but everything in his life feels like it’s falling apart. He’s drinking so much coffee that he feels like his heart is going to burst. He’s barely even able to focus on playing anymore. He’s just about failing ceramics, for gods sake, and he’s not sure about most other classes - he has barely attended more than a lecture or two in weeks.

He spends hours, days, begging his mom to understand that this can’t be negotiable, it can’t be. He can’t let the team down at this point. Even Rhemann attempts to talk Mathilde down from her high pedestal, but Warren’s strong hand on her shoulder stops her from backing down. Jeremy’s dad stops answering his calls, not interested in being interrupted in the middle of the night to listen to the son he never cared about’s woes.

So the night before the championship finals comes, and Jeremy texts his teammates to have a safe flight, and he calls his dealer. They can’t meet anywhere suspicious, so he asks him to join him on the route he’s forced to run on. He knows his mom watches his every move when he leaves the house for even a second these days - he can’t stay still for too long either.

It’s not long later before he’s running home, with too much cocaine in his pocket, too many tears running down his face at what a disappointment he’d become. Noah would hate him for this; To be let down again, a promise broken, again, looking down from heaven at enough white powder to trigger a heart attack beforeJeremy even gets the chance to sit the exam.

He doesn’t take any of it that night; he knows he can’t fail again. The temptation is incredible, though, and it’s a very difficult thing to resist. He settles for some adderall he stole from Bryson’s room, and crams as much as his frazzled mind can take it.

He cries as much as he studies, every now and again just looking at the clear baggie that he hid in his wallet, heart racing every time he remembers that rush, that feeling.

The exam goes about as well as he expected, but he manages to find an hour somewhere afterwards before he’s expected to be home. he turns his phone and location off, and finds the nearest booty call to him in his contact list.

The coke goes down much easier than he was expecting it to, as if being out of practice would have made it different, but by the time his pupils are tiny and his heart is pumping, he’s at the front door of a bad idea. He doesn’t even feel able to question himself, unable to spend a half a second in his body to remember how much he’s destroying his life all over again, in that moment, because his brain and body are in seperate places. He doesn’t remember driving home, if his hookup kinda drove his car and got a cab back, or if he’d drove high out of his mind for the tedious 45 minutes that it takes. He hoped it was the former, but knew it was the latter. He just hoped he hadn’t caused an accident somewhere on the way.

His mom doesn’t stop him to ask how it went before he’s shutting his bedroom door behind him. He has a few hours to kill before the game, so he spends his time wisely between putting his nose in the bag, or smoking out of his bedroom window like a teenager afraid to be caught. By the time the game starts his paranoia has set in, an old and unwelcoming friend, and he hides his cigarettes deep in his closet for fear the tabloids would leak a photo of him smoking 10 cigarettes in an hour.

He cries when Jean takes to the court. He almost snaps his phone in half when Cat gets injured. When Derrick steps back from a fight, when Cody calls a timeout for an injury, all he feels is this hollow, empty pit in his stomach. When the Trojans lose, he can’t keep it in, and he feels his world start to crumble.

He wonders if this is how Noah felt before he made that decision to jump. He wonders if he’s high enough off the ground for it to work.

Laila calls him an hour or two later, and her face drops at the sight of Jeremy. When she asks him to hold the phone up to his eyes he smiles, an empty smile, obliging before she starts to cry. She hangs up, not out of anger, or rage at his decision to relapse, but sheer heartbreak at seeing him in such a state, alone, alone, alone, not able to do a single thing to stop it.

Cat calls him back minutes later, and he doesn’t feel heartened by how her voice cracks when she asks him what he’s taken. He’s angry, he thinks, a ball in his stomach and a voice in his head saying, “how dare they make this about them?”

She tells him to call his sponsor. She begs him to think this through. She knows she lost him when he’s half lucid and forgets he’s on a video call, dipping his head down to his bedside locker to snort a line he’d lay out earlier.

There’s an ending here, somewhere, a happy one, maybe, a complete one more likely. He said it himself; he can’t live with himself if he gets high again. He’d rather die than feel like that again. So maybe that’s just how it goes.

[firefly-factory]

WIP Wednesday!

Thanks for tagging me @skyrim-forever (and everyone who tagged me last week)!

No-pressure tagging @sulphuricgrin @changelingsandothernonsense @pocket-vvardvark @thequeenofthewinter @emicat1159 <3

I was a little off my game last week so I didn't have much to show, but now I'm trying to get back into my writing and have a little bit to share! This is for the Astor fic I've been working on in the background.

Context for the excerpt - Astor's quite young here (a little over thirteen) - and is about to be initiated into the Ganon Cult. He isn't quite sure what that will involve, though . . .

-

He followed the elders until they came to the center of rok woods. There was a clearing that let them glimpse the pockmarked white stone of the bone canyon to the north. The sight send a shiver down Astor’s spine, though he tried to suppress it. He knew, intellectually, that they were only a little ways away from the others’ homes, but in this moment felt totally isolated.

The clouds shifted overhead and the moon—a bright sliver—shined its light into the clearing. He saw a glimpse of a statue rising out of the ground, mostly obscured, with the offering bowl in front of it overgrown with moss and filled with soil. With a jolt he noticed a second form besides it. At first he had thought it was simply the statue’s shadow but no. Though hidden by darkness, the second form was a statue in its own right. The two leaned against the heavy-limbed oak at the edge of the clearing, and Astor felt the sudden uncanny sensation of being watched.

He shuddered, unsure of what to do but not entirely willing to turn his back to the statues. It was an odd thing to find so far out. Even growing up in shadow hamlet, he had heard stories of the bone canyon, full of creatures fit for nightmares, and the bottomless skull lake at its center. He wondered what sort of people would have made statues to their gods this far out. Of course, here they were. And there were those who would have called ganon a creature of nightmares. Astor looked back at the statues a second time, and imagined that he felt a sense of approval coming from them. He remembered the words he had been taught throughout his life, rolling them around in his mind like a sand-worn pebble. Darkness is the blanket of sleep, darkness is safety and recovery. Those that would deny the light only do so because they are blinded.

 Feeling a little more at ease, astor turned his attention back to the elders, who had been moving around in the darkness with practiced ease. They stood in a circle in the clearing, in a formation astor would later learn was highly rehearsed. Each held something in their hands, the forms mostly obscured by darkness and the folds of their long sleeves. Father Herod stood in the middle. He towered over the others, taller than all of them by at least a hand. His sleeves hung down in elegant swoops, like dark wings. For a moment moonlight crept through and the gold at his throat and temple glinted.

“Astor,” he said. The boy stepped forwards hurriedly, still unsure of what he was supposed to do. Herod raised a hand, stopping Astor in his tracks. The rings on his fingers gleamed as he continued to speak, gesturing grandly in a way that clearly wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. It was as if he were speaking to everyone at once, or perhaps no one at all. The words were familiar as breathing. Astor had heard them almost every day, prayed them quietly to himself in the gloaming hours between night and true dawn.

Instinctively, he spoke aloud as the other elders raised their voices to recite the familiar words.

[ragnarockz]

Ok but what happens when Rio asks to learn more about Nicky to feel closer to the both of them? How does our favorite detective react?

🥺

Agnes is super defensive over him and her memories of him; the little amount of time they had together

They're sitting at the kitchen table, their coffees gone cold between them as Vidal tries to break through the crack that is Nicky

Agnes does the whole 'if I can be jovial about this it'll hurt less' approach and that all lasts for about a sentence or two before her face darkens and she's sucked back into that excruciating long day at the hospital

"He got very, very sick, Vidal...it all happened so fast..."

Agnes slumps in her chair and holds her forehead, elbow to the table as if still trying to figure out how to save her son

Vidal can only sit there and embrace Agnes' pain

Her own thoughts rush in, thoughts of how she' heard whispering since coming to Westview of how Agnes' son died. How she mistreated him. How she was too young and how it was because she was a runaway with no family and no job and access to drugs. How it was because she didn't have a good man in her life. It makes Vidal want to vomit

She never tells Agnes this; she's pretty sure she's heard all these rumors herself. How many times did she lay awake at night and maybe even start to believe them? How many times did she tack them on to the ever growing list of faults?

"Did you do this all alone, Baby?"

"No, I had Alice with me."

And that crack suddenly starts to get chipped away and Vidal and breathe a little easier as Agnes starts to let her in

"You and Alice...you must have been close? Trusted each other a whole lot."

"Yeah, we were...I did. We...she took me under her wing after I left my mothers and she took care of me while I took care of Nicky."

"And you two?"

"What about us, Vidal? That's ancient history..."

"I'm not jealous! I just want...to know you. I want to know you from then. What got you to here?"

And Agnes has to stop and think because can she tell Vidal? Does she want to tell her? What difference does it make now since neither Alice nor Nicky are in her life anymore

"I was just a baby myself trying to navigate motherhood and my sexuality...I felt alone, alienated, and then Alice just... accepted me."

"You two..."

"Five years. Until...Nicky died and she went away to school, and I stayed in Eastview."

"That's a long time to be with someone at that age..."

And Agnes bites the inside of her cheek, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Her hands are shaking, leg bouncing under the table. She can't look at Vidal, not yet

"...I had a ring picked out; kept it in my pocket for months...waiting for the right time..."

And the silence expands throughout the house. A different time and place; Agnes feels like she's suffocating

"You...never went after her?"

And Vidal's words suck Agnes back to the present, their eyes finally meeting

"I couldn't. Didn't feel right. She had so much going for her...I didn't want to tie her down to me."

And it's Vidal's turn to choke back her tears because at the end of it, that is all just so Agnes it's painful. The fear of having someone stay; asking them to stay. The fear of shared sorrow over joy. The fear of being seen. Te veo

"You should reach back out to her...I see the cards from her you bring in and hide...she still cares."

"It's pity."

"It's love, Agnes. Please. She still cares about you; she still considers you her friend."

Agnes stares down Vidal, studying the calm expression on her face. She blows out a deep exhale

"I wouldn't know where to start...does she want me back in her life like that? Does she care? Does she just send me cards because she feels just as guilty as I still do?"

Vidal bites her lip then, digging into her pocket before she takes out her own business card with a number scribbled in pen on the back of it

Agnes reaches forward timidly as if the paper is going to burst into flames; a secret she's is not allowed to know

[fishnapple]

Hi River, I hope you are doing well! I love reading your input on the different astrological placements, its what I look forward to every week 😆Thank you so much for answering our queries <3 I would love to hear your thoughts regarding moon opposite saturn in the natal chart if possible!

Hello, thank you for your kind words.

Moon opposite Saturn

For Moon opposite Saturn, I would think of four key words : Vulnerability, Nourishment, Slowing down and Stability. There can be struggles and opportunities for growth in these four areas.

Moon is changeable, vulnerable and needs lots of nourishment, but with Saturn oppositing it, Moon can feel like its needs are not met. That there's is something "improper" about its needs, that it need to regulate and act more "grown-up" to not disappoint a "critic", often of their own. Saturn puts restrictions on Moon.

If the person lacks maturity and enough self-awareness, this placement can hinder their emotional growth. Their early environment might not be very encouraging of their emotional display, so they learnt to bottle everything up. The person might need to learn self-parenting early in life. To be self-reliant and independent. To perform to a perceived set of rules and standards.

Inside, they can feel oddly vulnerable, as if everything has the ability to hurt them. But outside, they project a stoic, sometimes cold demeanor as a defense mechanism against hurt. Crying or strong display of emotions, whether joy or sadness, disappointment or anger, all are avoided.

TW: *mentions of possible eating disorder* As a manifestation of Saturn's restrictive nature affecting the Moon, some can feel the lack of appetite frequently. Some can feel hungry but don't want to indulge. Or don't like the act of eating. They might put restrictions on their diet and would feel guilty when they "binge" on something. They don't allow themselves to let "loose" and enjoy things completely. A more healthy expression is they take nutrition seriously and are discriminating about what they eat.

As they grow older, they learn to get more comfortable with their emotional side and be more relaxed, able to let loose more. A mature manifestation of this aspect is their emotional dependability and stability as they know how to regulate their emotions effectively. Another trait is once they're emotionally committed to something or someone, they stay faithful for a very long time, only pull away when their trust is broken.

[gleamingtempest]

Knight's Game - Talent Predictions

Mouse: SFX Designer

He has a mild sound motif already. Also he's the mouse, so he'd be 'quiet as a mouse.'

OX: Journalist

The design in her eyes is a shattering effect - this could be reflective of 'breaking news.' Also, there's a newspaper behind the cast line up I think so a journalist amongst the cast would be quite interesting ! Especially if she's the first victim.

Also she's 'hard headed' (she literally has horns) which could lend itself to her getting the scoops she wants.

Tiger: Boxer

Arbitrary ! She could really be in any fighting career ahaha. I chose boxer because it's simple and effective.

Rabbit: Hypnotist

He has a broadly 'sleepy' motif with the spiral eyes and moon belt. The imagery feels vaguely evocative of hypnosis to me at least. Having a hypnotist in a killing game where a memory wipe is an immediately central element is also very very interesting.

Dragon: Manager

Very arbitrary. Tiger and him have matching outfits so I assumed he works within close proximity to her. Being a sports manager is an easy conclusion to this which also fits his general demeanor.

Snake: Toxicologist

I'm surprised this take isn't more common honestly. He has a clearly reptilian motif with bright fluorescent colors. This screams venom to me. Also, he very clearly evokes Charles & Ellie imagery so having a chemical related talent would be very interesting when paired with them.

Alternatively a herpetologist but I find this less interesting.

Monkey: Roboticist

They work for a prominent big tech corporation and they're presented as mischievous and somewhat threatening. Her having a hand in MonoTV's creation feels like a natural conclusion at least IMO & roboticist is an easy talent to make that work with. Engineer or Inventor also work fine, I just like the sound of Roboticist.

Sheep: Seamstress

She has a fleece motif as well as a needle design in her eyes. A sheep seamstress seems pretty consistent IMO! Fashion Designer also works fine for her.

Horse: Host

Horse is host.

Rooster: Teacher

We know that he is a teacher and not a student so this is not particularly surprising ! If he was a former ultimate I think former ultimate lucky student or journalist would be very fun.

Dog: Bounty Hunter

He has dog tags and a dog motif; Soldier is frankly much more likely, I just favor Bounty Hunter. Soldier is also already a talent in the mainline games so I don't know if they'll reuse that.

Pig: Model

Occam's razor. She's fashionable and confident. Regal, wealthy, powerful. Any other number of talents fit just as well though, like pageant queen, fashionista, fashion designer, influencer, etc.

She's quite open ended.

I hope this was insightful, engaging or helpful ! I look forward to learning more about these friends.

Be well & take care. 🎉

[sirxaibs]

Keigo Takami / Hawks X Reader (eventually various X reader but that’s if I decide to continue with the burst of inspiration)

If this isn’t that meaty for you…. THEY JUST MET LET THEM COOK

Summary: Small light banter for a first meeting between freshly debuted Hawks and an Isekai’d reader.

Basically after reading copious amounts of amazingly talented stories by amazingly talented writers. “DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL” by @fallen-w1ngs and Changing History by SummerBlack on Quotev. With “depollute me” the author humanizes the pro hero from being just a symbol. Meanwhile with “Changing History” the author introduces an emotion more attuned to feeling real and how life isn’t just a cycle that is predetermined. So my dynamic of choice was you as the reader have already been thrown in this world for the first 18 years of your life. If you were put in this world why not do the expected? Become a hero. But if all things are fake why take anything seriously?

If you couldn’t gather from that, the reader and hawks will grow and learn that they have the ability to matter and deserve to feel like they belong. I don’t have a very serious style of writing but I do try! Maybe not my best but key emphasis on try! Today we delve into YOU! YOUR CHARACTER!

This was all made on my notes app while on vacation 😺

Word count: 4280 ish, (idk through editing I added some things)

A blur of red and gold emerged first, feathers catching the sunlight just before their owner stepped forward with an easy, lopsided grin. Hawks, the newly minted Pro, looked entirely unbothered by the attention, despite the sudden chorus of excited shouts.

“Hawks! Can you sign this?”

“Dude, your debut fight was insane!”

“Picture, please?”

He laughed, ruffling his windswept hair as he glanced over the eager faces.

“Man, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, grabbing the nearest pen. “Alright, line up nice and neat, yeah? I’ve got places to be, but I can’t just leave my awesome fans hanging.”

As he signed posters, notebooks, and even the occasional wing-shaped keychain, Hawks kept that signature smirk in place. He’d always known he’d make it this far—but seeing the real, tangible proof of it in the form of starstruck faces and excited voices?

Yeah, this was pretty damn cool.

As the crowd died down, Originally just going to walk away you thought about when would even be the next time you’d see him. Unfortunately since being thrown into this world, the whole concept of canon magnets for main characters was not even a concept in your life.

“You know, if you’re acting like this right out of the gate, I can’t even imagine how inflated your ego will get once you’re officially ranked among the top heroes.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have no idea where you’re getting that impression.” You almost felt bad for taking away his moment. The disheveled blonde looked like he might’ve been having a sincere, heartfelt moment.

“It’s always the pretty boys with the massive egos,” you sighed dramatically, looking away. Seeing Hawks in all his glory had to come with a little entertainment, right?

He took a step back, eyeing your UA uniform as if sizing you up.

“Maybe the hostility’s coming from jealousy?”

“It’s the Icarus trope for me” you mutter

“Sorry?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Oh nothing! You sure would think that.”

To be honest, you hadn’t meant to bump into him. You were just on your way home from school, with nothing more in mind than a nice nap. Being a third-year at UA in the most boring era of this universe really didn’t leave you with much to look forward to.

“I mean, looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, curiosity creeping into his tone as he took another sip from his drink.

“You’re not wrong, but the flashy vibe you’re giving off? It’s almost alarming.”

He gave you a distraught look.

“Imagine this, I’m getting saved by—wait, what’s your name again?” Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible for actually knowing him. Sure, he had only debuted a few months ago and the crowd that just left that chanted his name every two seconds would be a sign for his name, but you couldn’t help it. In your past life, the sheer amount of content of the show you consumed meant you had to know him but better safe than sorry.

“Hawks,” he replied, deadpan, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In response he raised his brow

It probably looked like you were laughing at him, which, in a way, you kind of were. You remembered the draft photos of when his character was first being developed—back when they considered giving him an actual hawk head. The thought alone made you smile.

“Pro hero Hawks saves me, and the sheer massiveness of his ego completely blindsides me. I’m struck by how conventionally hot he is, and then I die in your arms. Yeah, not a good look for you.”

You sighed inwardly. All in all, you were probably born in the worst generation in the My Hero universe. You couldn’t even be part of the middle generation where you could’ve had the chance to work as a teacher with Aizawa and the rest of the crew. It was a possibility, sure, but it felt so far out of reach. And the idea of being around Present Mic—preferably with his hair down and you age-appropriate for him? That would’ve been a dream.

But here you were, a few years older than the main cast. Actually, you were the same age as Keigo. As much as you loved his character, he didn’t really become important until the fifth season. Which meant you had little to no relevance to the plot or any of the major characters. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in some lame generation, unable to make an impact.

Why couldn’t any isekai story go right? You really felt like you’d lost the genetic lottery over and over again. You couldn’t have been born just a few years younger, so you could’ve at least had the chance to be around your other favorite sunshine-blonde character, Mirio. Not being his age had probably made you feel like you’d lost years of your life unknowingly.

“Maamaa, we just met, and you’ve already got a grudge against me?” He teased, giving you a playful frown.

Immediately it springs in your head that you’ve probably come off as a total asshole. Screw the curse of having an outside point of view. The fact of knowing none of this was real maybe gave a bad look on the outside.

You suddenly felt a wave of regret hit you, realizing how your words had come across. His playful tone, the teasing frown—everything made it clear he wasn’t offended, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line. You opened your mouth, but your thoughts were tangled, and it took a moment to collect your words.

“Ah, look, I—” You hesitated, eyes darting away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I get carried away, and—” You mentally cursed yourself for being so awkward. You hated how easily you could go from sarcastic to genuinely sorry in a second.

Hawks gave you an odd look, the smirk still there, though softer. “Hey, no worries. I get it.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell something about his tone had changed slightly. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood too, like you were.

“No, I’m serious,” you quickly added, glancing up at him, feeling the need to apologize properly. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see how people get caught up in all the… hero stuff. And I didn’t want to be another person acting all starry-eyed over you just because you’re a pro hero, you know?” God you sounded pathetic. Maybe if you prayed to all might really hard it would go away.

Hawks studied you for a second, then nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I get it. You don’t want to be one of those people who just worship the ground we fly on, huh?”

You sighed, relieved that he understood, but still uneasy. “Yeah... fly on. It’s just… this world, this universe… It’s all so… strange. I mean, I know you’re a big deal, and I respect that. But sometimes it’s hard to take things seriously when everything feels like it’s set in stone. To be so ‘MUCH’ all the time. Anyways I’m literally doing exactly what yours doing for a career so don’t take my words to heart. Heroes are kind of just people that help people and I’m like one or those people and by no means-” You paused, biting your lip.

There was an odd moment of silence before Hawks chuckled, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve said something ridiculous.

“You’re fine.” His tone was soft, genuine this time, as he took another step back, giving you space. “You’re not the first person to think I’m all ‘ego and feathers,’ but not everyone’s as honest about it as you are. So, props for that, I guess.” He tilted his head, his usual cocky grin returning, though it seemed more self-aware now. “But hey, if it helps, I do my best to keep my ego in check. It’s not as big as it looks.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond, but the words that came out were almost reflexive. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it, I guess. You’re going to be one of the top ten. I know it.”

Hawks laughed softly, the sound surprisingly genuine, and you found yourself relaxing a little. Maybe you hadn’t totally messed everything up. “You’re so sure about that? Well then fair enough. Just don’t expect me to give up my flashy style anytime soon. It’s a package deal.” He says that as if he doesn’t get In the top ten within a few months.

You could tell he wasn’t taking offense anymore, but you still felt like you needed to clear the air. “I mean, you’re doing your thing. I just—” You faltered, trying to find the right words, feeling like you were digging yourself into a hole. “I just didn’t want to be some random person making snide comments. You’re a pro hero, and I respect that.”

His eyes softened again, and there was an odd sincerity in his gaze. “Thanks. That means more than you know. You look about the same age as me so as you’re a pro as well, wouldn’t you know it you’ll be up there at the top, maybe we’ll have a hero rivalry” he smirks

“Ah yes the trials and tribulations of endeavour and all might persist in the bodies of 18 year old aspiring heroes” you pause for a moment thinking about it. You know that’s not too far from the original source material

“Well I’m not exactly a pro just yet, give me a few months and I’ll be there”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the awkwardness between you two slowly evaporating. It was strange, how you’d gone from a sarcastic comment to a brief but genuine moment of understanding. And yet, in a world where everything seemed so scripted, the fact that this had played out in such a way felt a little… surreal.

After a beat, Hawks stretched, giving you a wink. “Well, I should probably get going. Hero stuff, you know?” He shrugged, turning on his heel. “But hey, if you ever need a hand or just wanna throw some more sarcastic remarks my way, I’m not hard to find.”

You managed a small, half-smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flashed you one last grin before taking off, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky, disappearing into the distance. You watched him go, still feeling that odd mixture of guilt and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Shaking your head, you turned and continued on your way home, feeling slightly lighter, despite the awkwardness. At least you hadn’t ruined everything completely. But, then again, in a world like this, there was always something new to look forward to. Maybe you’d even see Hawks again and maybe next time, you’d be a little better at handling it.

Or, you’d at least try to be.

In this world, reports of people with superpowers started popping up everywhere. No one really knew what was causing these Quirks. And before long, the supernatural became the new normal. Dreams became reality, and the world turned into a superhuman society, with 80% of the population possessing some sort of strange ability.

Blah, blah, blah. The world might sound impressive at first, but being dropped into a world where you know everyone’s futures? That kind of ruins the excitement. Save the fun stuff for when Izuku is supposed to take over

You’d think living in a world of superheroes would be a dream come true, but it felt more like playing a life simulator with a DLC attached.

‘Actually if any one had heard that thought, please smite me dead on the spot’

Maybe when you finally met Shigaraki, you two could bond over how lame your lives were.

————

The moment Hawks took off, disappearing into the sky with all the grace and flair of a man who knew exactly how cool he was, you were left standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street. You blinked a few times, processing the bizarre encounter, like a glitch in the matrix where you’d just met one of the to be top heroes, and somehow managed to be the awkward, sarcastic mess you were known for.

Oh god, you thought, did I just make myself look like an idiot?

The awkwardness of the moment hit you all at once, like a ton of bricks. Your brain replayed every word you’d said, every overly dramatic sigh, and every time you’d made some weird comment about his ego. I probably just ruined any chance of ever having a normal conversation with him ever again, you thought with a groan.

But, hey, at least you’d gotten one thing right: you had no idea how to not embarrass yourself in front of a pro hero. Progress, right?

Your feet shuffled along the sidewalk, your eyes fixed on the ground, just in case anyone noticed how ridiculously flustered you were. You didn’t even know where you were going at this point, your legs had basically decided to take you home, but your brain was still stuck on the fact that you’d just made a snide remark to one of the most famous people in the world. That was bound to come back to haunt you, right?

In the midst of your spiraling, a thought hit you like a slap to the face: What if he tells people?

No, no, no, no. Hawks wasn’t the type to hold grudges. He’d probably just chuckle about it with his equally cool friends and forget about it. Right?

… what if he tells Mirko. All you feel is dread

But still, the mental image of him, sitting around with his hero buddies, casually telling them about the weird girl who got all awkward and snarky when she met him, was enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and disappear for the next decade. I’m never leaving my house again, you thought, hands buried in your pockets. It’s safer this way.

As you trudged home, you passed by the same old buildings, the same street vendors, the same couple having a heated debate about the proper way to cook curry (which, honestly, you were kind of invested in now). It was the same old world. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living in some kind of sitcom where you were the awkward side character. This is what I get for getting tossed into this universe, you thought, rolling your eyes at the universe itself. And why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be a sidekick by now?

You eventually reached your apartment building, doing your best to ignore the fact that you’d just been face-to-face with Hawks and didn’t manage to do anything remotely cool or competent. The elevator ride felt longer than it should’ve. It was like the universe itself was giving you a moment to reflect on your life choices. By the time you reached your door, you felt like you needed to apologize to the doorframe for even existing.

With a dramatic sigh, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should’ve just said something normal like, “Hey, cool wings.” That’s it. Cool wings… nope absolutely not, move on, but no, you had to act like a nervous wreck who couldn’t even handle basic social interaction. Congratulations, you’re a disaster.

But as your mind started spiraling into self-loathing, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The whole situation had been so ridiculous, so out of place, that it was actually kind of funny. You’d just had a conversation with Hawks granted, it was a weird, awkward, almost cringeworthy conversation but still, a conversation! That was more than most people could say.

“Maybe I should just call it a day. Hide under the covers and pretend nothing happened.”

You threw your arms dramatically across your face as if the weight of your shame was too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, a tiny thought crept in: Hey, if I run into him again, maybe I won’t make a fool of myself next time.

Then again, you thought with a grin, Probably not.

At least tomorrow’s a new day, right? You could try to be normal then probably. Or at the very least, you could give yourself a good pep talk, like, “You got this, champ. Try not to make an idiot of yourself this time.”

As you lay there, wallowing in your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Because, in the end, this was just another bizarre chapter in your weird, barely-coherent life in the world of heroes. Maybe next time, you’d at least try to make a good first impression. Or maybe, just maybe, you’d accidentally land on your feet and make it out of another embarrassing moment unscathed.

Who knew? Anything was possible in this crazy universe. Well, except you being smooth. That was clearly out of the question.

————

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and as your classmates hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, you sat there, contemplating your life choices. Graduation was right around the corner, and while everyone else was excited about the future, you were just kind of… existing.

You were in your third year at UA, the very school that trained the next generation of Pro Heroes. But here you were, staring at your desk like it owed you money, with no idea what you were supposed to do next.

Let’s be real, everyone else had a purpose. Izuku? He was going to be the greatest hero of all time. All Might? He was the symbol of peace, the beacon of hope, and probably the only guy who could do a cartwheel and not look like a dad on a trampoline. Even Bakugo had a clear goal in mind: to be the best, which, considering his attitude, was more like a “do it or I’ll yell at you until you cry” kind of vibe.

But you? You were just here. You weren’t supposed to be in this world. Seriously, how did you even get here? One minute you were living your normal life, and the next you’re dropped into the middle of a world full of heroes, quirks, and crazy villains, but there’s no manual for how to fit in. It was like being cast in the world’s weirdest TV show and being told, “Yeah, just figure it out, you’ll be fine.”

And you were so fine. So fine, in fact, that you didn’t even know what the point of it all was. You had no grand dreams of becoming the next All Might or Deku. You weren’t even sure what your quirk was half the time, maybe you had an ability to be totally average? If so, congratulations, you were really nailing it.

“Look, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you muttered to yourself, giving the window a dramatic look. “You’ll graduate, become a hero, maybe stand by the snacks table at hero events, get a cool costume, the usual.”

You sighed, staring at the city below. Your classmates had their lives all planned out, while you had absolutely no clue what was happening. “Like, how do you even become a hero if you’re not, like, destined for greatness?” You asked, though you were fully aware the universe wasn’t going to answer. Or if it did, it would probably just laugh and say, “Sorry, you’re just here for filler content.”

You turned to the empty classroom, contemplating your entire existence for a moment. “Man, is this what it’s like to be a side character? ’Cause I really didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to live my best life, and suddenly I’m here, trying to figure out if I should be saving kittens from trees or passing out flyers for charity events.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be that hero, the one who’s really good at handing out pamphlets at superhero conventions. You know, hero stuff. The job that’s always available but no one really talks about.”

You let out a half-hearted groan. “Ugh, I’m like a glorified intern in the superhero world. ‘Oh, sorry, your quirk is literally just being chill? Guess you’ll be a sidekick to the sidekicks!’”

But then it hit you: maybe that’s fine. Not every hero needs to be the big shot. Maybe your purpose was to just… exist. No huge fanfare, no dramatic showdowns with villains, just a random person who shows up at the right time to, like, hand out snacks or prevent a minor inconvenience. You could totally be that person! There’s a whole squad of heroes out there who are doing important stuff without anyone caring about them.

You snapped your fingers. “Wait a minute. Maybe this is my calling! I’ll be ‘The Human Buffer’. I’ll help all the heroes hand out protein bars, hold their coats while they go into battle, be that one person who’s just there to make sure they look good in their hero pose. Yeah, I could be that hero!”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and strutted out of the classroom with newfound confidence. You might not have a big, world-saving destiny, but you would be the hero who was always there with the perfect snack after a long day of saving people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a role that needed to be filled, and by golly, you were going to do it.

“Alright, world,” you said dramatically as you walked down the hallway. “You don’t need me to save the day, but I’ll be here when you need someone to tell you where the bathroom is during a fight. Hero work!”

As you passed your classmates, all talking about their big future plans, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you weren’t meant to be the hero everyone else was, but you were still going to make your mark. Whether they needed an emotional support snack or someone to bring them a towel after they worked up a sweat, you’d be there.

And hey, you’d probably get a cool title too: The Most Average, Most Helpful Hero.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being a hero. Who wouldn’t want to swoop in and save the day, right? But the thing was, you didn’t belong here. You didn’t have that spark that made someone destined to be a hero. You weren’t meant to exist in this world. You were more like an accidental extra, someone who wasn’t supposed to show up on the hero timeline but somehow did. And now you were just… waiting for your scene to end.

It wasn’t that you didn’t respect heroes, of course, you did! But watching everyone around you with their grand dreams and bright futures made you feel a bit like the odd one out. Even if you’re living in a year with just side characters. They had their roles, their destinies. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a universe where things were already set in stone. It was like showing up to a concert that was already halfway over and realizing you’re just gonna have to sit in the nosebleeds for the rest of the show.

Keigo had mentioned once that it was important for heroes to ease the worries of the people. Isn’t it paradoxical that his future words are the ones giving you a path. That they had to be more than just strong, they had to make people feel safe. And you’d never had any doubts about that philosophy. But how could you be that person when you didn’t even feel like you were supposed to be here in the first place? It felt like playing a game you didn’t know the rules to, in a world that wasn’t yours.

Sure, you were about to graduate from UA and technically become a Pro Hero, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were sort of stepping into a role that didn’t really have anything to do with you. You had no grand dreams of fighting side-by-side with All Might in his final battle. There were so any many risks and what if a simple butterfly effect made the villains win by you being here. Honestly, you’d probably end up being the hero who handed out flyers for charity events or stood at the front of the line for photos to be safe. Was that the kind of hero you wanted to be?

“Well, I guess I’ll be a hero of some kind,” you muttered, though it was more out of obligation than excitement. “But what does it even mean if I don’t have some grand purpose in all this?”

A little chuckle escaped your lips. This was ridiculous. Here you were, stressing over your place in a world that was literally made up. You were a character in a story that already had its plot laid out, and yet you were still acting like you had to be a main character. It was all just so absurd.

But you didn’t want to be that person someone who just complained about fate and waited for something to happen. You could still make a difference in small ways, right? Maybe not as the next All Might or Deku, but as someone who showed up when it mattered, who helped out in their own way. The world was full of side characters doing small but important things, why couldn’t you be one of them?

With a grin, you stood up and grabbed your bag, heading out of the classroom to join the rest of your classmates. Maybe you weren’t the protagonist of this story, but hey, you could still make your mark on it. A little self-awareness never hurt anyone, right? Besides, in a world full of heroes, sometimes it was enough just to be one even if you were doing it a little differently than everyone else.

[and-i-will-kiss]

I feel like I never put my head on the pillow last night. It's not because of the banquet - it wasn't my type of thing, being around these nobles and knights, I'm just a fish out of water, in this big, new pond I'm at right now. Not having wine was a bit of a test, and from Hans stance in the room on that evening, I can see why the liquor flows like rivers in these instances.

My liege left unexpectedly and reminded me to behave before turning around towards the door. I wondered about his thoughts, it's like his body was there, but his head, oh I don't know, wanted to be anywhere else but near the line of sight of the Lord of the castle? Capon sure looked stiff and avoidant. Now I'm convinced we are two little fishes, my lord, both not made for these waters.

As for myself, the only one left standing in the short span that was our evening, I got accosted by a Lady waving her titles like they were her not very interesting assets in front of me; a jokester of a poet knight that wanted me to prank his rival, and Black Bartosch, who easily impressed me, the country boy from Skalitz, at first with his worldly knowledge and knightly tales. You don't get to know every day a proper knight like the ones in those books the Uzhitz scribe waved under my nose when I was learning how to read! But his plans involved something I couldn't afford to touch. I avoided his advances as nicely as I could, as I wanted, no, needed to feel a bit alive in the morning. Any mistake could be costly, and now more than ever, as I have returned to fill the role of Lord Capon's squire and bodyguard. So I bowed out early, with a bit of a meal in my stomach and totally out my head. I exhaled as I stared at the deep midnight of the sky and thought of the road I have left behind and what's in front of me for tomorrow. If I told Theresa of this, she would have had a laugh! Look at you, small town boy, mother's boy, under the sky that wraps this impossible castle good night.

I think about that and her while I stare to the ceiling of this bailey room in Trosky. It's too familiar and cold, this makes it feel homely, like I was back in Rattay. But I can't just lie down the entire morning, as much as my body desires, we have to ride. So I have a quick wash - the water, too cold to be kind, scares the ghost of sleep away, and I start from my hose and up to kit myself for battle.

Outside, and by the upper courtyard, Hans attends in his very minimal kit. I'm absolutely not happy with the sight, he's too under dressed for battle, but I understand that this campaign, with all the available men from Von Bergrow and other experienced knights, should be a quick hit and then back for supper. And he doesn't seem concerned at all in that bare bones bascinet and cuirass, so I won't complain and let him go ahead. Avoiding the roux horse I'm offered for the ride, I take Pebbles and join the battalion at the main gate.

We ride, at a good pace, tightly bound to each other. We are a steely column of soldiers, exchanging words and jokes. The spirits are high and the mood is certain - we will stomp on the vermin infesting these lands. And after that we can go home. I feel ambivalent towards this, on one hand I'm glad this could be good and done today, and we could be riding back to Sasau in a couple of days, but we still have a battle in front of us and I shouldn't be this certain about how smoothly it can go, even if I was reassured more than once.

The reassurances, pray, were all lies.

There's something forward that shatters the column. I can't see a thing in front of me, but sure I can feel it. There's shouts, anguished, blood-curdling screams. We have been lead to a trap.

Hans and I push forward until a rain of bolts and arrows land on us. Pebbles bolts under me and I land heavily on the road, air pushed out of my lungs. Dazed and vulnerable, I'm glad Hans was there to pull me up with all his might. The leader of our party, Trosky's Chamberlain, lies at my feet, pierced by arrows and bleeding to death. There's nothing we can do, he's dying and I feel the taste of iron in my mouth. Capon pushes me to follow him, we need to keep moving forward, he shouts, otherwise we are dead, Henry shoot up, we need to engage them, they are killing us! Henry!

My hands move by themselves, my head is nothing but a blur of red and hurt. I load a bolt and let if fly, it might have grazed someone up there, from the pained cries filling the dusty air. I kneel behind a tree, my hands and breath are shaking, but I need to attack. It's no use, so I reload, dash into the hill and hide myself under a rock column. Here I have a better sight so I shoot a couple down. But Hans, Hans is... Shit! I need to move faster! What's that noise? And that smoke? Something hits the ground fast, something like a... pebble? But it's so, so fast, faster than an arrow! Hans, move, otherwise we are dead!

Lord Capon holds his shield up and front and rams in and after him I go. Our mad dash ends on the other side of the road, where the enemy waits the stragglers armed to the teeth. We mow down enough to leave some corpses on the ground, I can't stop to check if they are gone, I push on moving forward... Is that the fortress? It's Nebakov? Oh god, does this have an end? Hans runs forward, drenched in blood, sword in hand, shield long discarded behind.

Big mistake. In his desperate run, a bandit catches him with a mace straight to the face, hit the helmet refuses to receive, leaving Hans head exposed as he falls heavily on the ground.

No. I panic. No, I won't allow it, you fucking whoreson. All my blood is pooling in my gut as slay the bastard and then a second one in the spot. I can't breath. I drop next to Hans, his eyes are twitching, there's a nasty gash on his forehead and his nose bleeds profusely. I need a breath; breath, you idiot; I shake him, say something! Hans! He's dazed and injured, I need to take him out of here!..

... But there are many footsteps behind me. I twist my head. I'm surrounded. This man against the sun. A shade like Runt. Every hair on the nape of my neck is standing. He's just there, clean armor, clean hands, standing like the victor without a weapon in his hand. I can't see his face, shadowed by the visor of his helmet, but his voice booms out, and makes my core shake. I won't lie, I'm terrified. Not about my future in this moment, but for Hans. They want to claim him, make him a hostage. Not this again. No. Father, I...

I won't allow it. Fuck you, you coward, if you want to get him, you have to take me first! The man snickers and peels of his helmet. He goes on, he warns me but it's not enough. I let him know he's nothing but a cowardly shit and I'll take him on. Look at the knight boy, he scorns. He gives in and concedes my wish. We duel.

He can't stop smirking under his mustache, I must erase that. It's not an easy task, he's steady as a wall and my heart, racing in my throat, is making my hands tremble. He parries all my strikes, tiring me even more. But I push, I keep on moving forward, I make so many mistakes, I don't care. I will erase him. He goes hard for my head, making my headgear shift, blood gushes out of my eyebrow. Red, I can only see red. My grip on my sword suddenly becomes tight and I manage to catch the following high and straight cut to my head with my sword in both hands. I push my left hand and the pommel flies straight to his eyes. Red, only red is what I saw.

The man crumbles to his knees, hands to the face. I will erase you. I raise both hands to the sky, sword about to fall heavy on his neck, when these hands and arms grab me tightly and make me drop my weapon. There's a knife to my neck, I shift violently but they refuse to let go, and I'm slowly feeling the world is going mellower around me, I'm too tired to struggle. I'm sorry... Hans, this is over. I thought I could have done so much, so much more. I'm no good. Not good.

The face with the bloodied sight straightens up and walks towards me. He says: You have no idea in what you got yourself into.

(Fun fact, I fought Zizka with short sword and shield, not a longsword like the cutscene and defeated him in two strikes. Runt part deux, so anticlimatic lmao. will re-edit this on the evening, soz for the mistakes and such.)

EDIT: I already did something similar based on Zizka's duel with Henry

[hybbart]

Just gotta say I found your ranchers apocalypse the other day au and totally fell in love with it! I don’t normally like zombie apocalypse stories but I love your worldbuilding and art and just the focus on the hope and forward progress of the setting and characters.

Also, I poked through a lot of your worldbuilding asks the other day and I think I saw one where you mentioned Jimmy seeing sounds? Did I read that correctly? If so, I am very interested in learning more.

Yeah, it hasnt come up directly in a bit but as a canary avian he has incredible hearing and sees sounds. Its why the avian call machine hels used to attract zombies inadvertently hypnotized him and not other avians. They're all affected but most can resist it, but for poor jimmy it was an accidental trap hels took advantage of. Usually, though, it manifests as Jimmy having an easier time spotting things that make noise and that being where his eyes are drawn, and getting easily overstimulated and have a hard time seeing in loud environments without his headphones.

He does still see normally, btw, it just has an extra aspect/depth where he can see the sounds being made as well. I imagine he gets asked what colour sounds are a lot but that's not really how it works. To him a dynamic part of how Tango looks is how he sounds, so Tango noises are part of his appearance the same way how someone smiles or how his hair flickers is.

I try also... Jimmy tends to have his eyes forward at all times, he turns his head rather than moving his eyes. It can make his a bit unnerving, especially when hes tracking somethings motion. The one time I (try to) have him actually look in a direction rather than turn that direction is when he is listening to something far away. He's drawn to use his eyes to look at sounds but he also needs to direct his ears and he doesnt have as much range of motion as say a cat does with his ears.

Actually, the down in his ears create a bit a bit of a dampening barrier when his ears are pointed down and open up more when theyre up, sorta a soft natural version of headphones, so when he's listening in a particular direction he'll put one ear down and the other high up, and when overstimulated they go down.

And I represented this by giving him sonar like eyes.

[jillsandwhichs]

What we Gain/Book 1/Chapter 3, Spring Cleaning

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Levi Ackerman

Summary: The Levi squad goes to the very old Survey Corps/Scouts HQ. Reason being to learn more about Eren and his Titan ability. But first, cleaning time

WC: 3.2k

Rating: Mature/Gore/Smut

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Vera was trotting at a slow pace for you. The heat today was unbearable. The sunshine seemed to be beaming primarily on you. What have you done to be subjected to such torture? You hate the Sun and it's heat; You are much more a fan of Winter and snow. Just like yesterday everyone but you seems to be fine with it. You need to grow up, seriously.

Your horse was riding beside Levi's and everyone else was in front of the both of you. Eren even managed to use a horse properly and somehow better than Gunther who can't seem to ever keep Percy in check. Petra, Eld and Oulo were talking amongst themselves with Eren. You even seen Oulo speak to Eren which was surprising but you couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Captain, are there any set in orders for us once we reach the castle?" "We're going to deep clean every room we plan to use, even extras. We'll play it by ear after that." You gave him a firm nod. Seems like a good plan for now.

Just from where you all are, you could spot the castle off in the distance. It was just as Petra described. It's large and tall with cobblestone and brick surrounding the whole thing. It was a metallic color with tints of blue and white on it. You were excited. According to Oulo, it was once a place of royalty and high honor. You were never wealthy growing up so this'll be your first time ever in a place that was once ran by a monarchy.

"It's huge!" "Thank you Captain obvious." Oulo said to you. You scoffed. "Leave me be." "We get it, you grew up poor, you're an adult now so get used to new experiences." Oulo added on. You and him never fully got along. He's more a dick than Levi. Levi glared at Oulo. "Oulo." "Yes Captain?" "Don't talk to her like that." You then looked to Levi. You were confused. Anytime Oulo teases you, Levi ignores it or tells you to both stuff it.

Oulo just mumbled to himself and kept trotting forwards.

"You can't let him get to you." "I know." "Don't let some dumbass affect your pleasant work performance." Levi added. "I won't." You reassured him. Levi looked you up and down and nodded. He looked forward again and surpassed the entire group. "Put your horses up and rendezvous near the North entrance." He shouted out before having Lee ride off fast with him.

North entrance, got it.

-

You got off of Vera and hitched her to one of the countless wooden fences surrounding the area. She'd be good and stay there just for now. Once the stables are cleared out you can put her there. You turned to your right and saw Petra & Oulo speaking to each other and Eren was just a short distance in front of them. Gunther and Eld must've went off somewhere else, possibly to where Levi went.

You fed Vera a quick snack and adjusted her saddle. You don't want her to be uncomfortable. Vera is all you have, honestly.

Eventually, you were all at the North entrance and that was where Levi was. "I think I only told her but to the rest of you as well, it's cleaning time. Grab a broom or a rag and find a room. Get to it." Everyone groaned (Other than you and Eren) but they all proceeded to listen and do as the captain said. "And grab a handkerchief to cover your face, there are some inside near the entry."

Levi waited for all of you to enter in first. He wasn't wrong, this place definitely needs cleaned. "God." Eld coughed and tied the white cloth around his face. "Captain wasn't kidding." Eld then grabbed a rag and made his way to a random room.

Everyone sort of separated and found their own ways of cleaning. You planned to sweep, you're great at it. You picked up a handkerchief and tried to tie it around your face but your efforts were futile. You just couldn't get it to tie. "Ugh." You groaned, trying even harder but simply not being able to. "How is it that you make it into the scouts, getting on my team at that and yet, you can't tie a rag?" Levi teased you while walking up from behind you.

"I'm sorry Sir, my fingers just can't get it through it's loop." You tried it once more but each time the rag faltered. "Here, let me." Levi hummed. You let go and allowed him to tie it for you. His fingers worked the thick cloth skillfully and he tied it off tightly. "There. It won't fall off." "Thank you Levi." You said softly. You were grateful for his help. He looked you up and down. "Your thigh harnesses are loose." "What?" You looked down. Shit, they are loose.

You kneeled down and began to fix them.

"Get to cleaning right after that." "Yes Sir!" You replied loudly.

-

It's been about an hour. You swept about six rooms. Most were sleeping quarters and the other two were random rooms that could be used for anything. You find peace in cleaning. It is a calming chore for you. You can't help but hum a tune to yourself as you sweep. For a little bit, you wiped down the windows from the inside but Levi and Oulo were already doing that their selves. Sweeping it is.

The dust collected onto the bristles of the broom and onto the dustpan. It was pretty dirty on this floor. You occasionally found yourself coughing and needing a breath of fresh air. According to Levi, this place has been out of use for a few years now which answers the question as to why it's so putrid.

You ran your fingers through your hair and pulled it into a low ponytail. It kept getting in your face and it was a bother. As you did this, Petra walked in. "Hey Petra." "Hi! How is your cleaning coming along?" "Fine. Yours?" "I'm almost done. Captain told me to do some yard work since I finished in here." "That's good. More orders are always the best orders." You joked and that earned a giggle out of you.

"How do you feel about this kid Eren?" "I don't know. I haven't spoken to him much." "Same. He seems alright, but I'm still nervous." "Me too Petra, me too." You nodded, sticking your head out of the window to breathe in some nice smelling breezy air. "I heard Levi gave him a real beating. Is that right?" "He did. It was brutal. Eren forgave him though." "That's sweet, I think?" Petra laughed. "That makes Eren seem even weirder." "Tell me about it."

Petra stood up and stretched. "Well I'll leave you to it. Best of luck." "Thanks Petra." "See you later." "Bye."

She then left to continue with her work.

Shortly after Petra left, Levi came in. He seemed to have an irritated look on his face. Someone must've set him off. "Hello." You said kindly, sweeping up the last bit of dirt off of the floor. "Hey." Levi scanned the room. "It's a pleasure to see you can actually clean unlike the others." Levi scoffed to himself. He's clearly disappointed. "How did Eren do?" "How do you think?" That answered it for you.

You chuckled and looked at him. "If it's that much of a bother I don't mind cleaning after the others. Cleaning is kind of a safe haven." You said softly. Those words were a key to Levi's heart. He's a clean freak too. He hates messes and disgusting people. People who lack manners are his main pet peeve. A small smirk tugged on his lips but he played it off as if it were nothing. "I appreciate your offer but Eren and Eld but be the ones to clean it up; It is their job."

So it was Eren and Eld. What a surprise that Oulo wasn't topped off on that list.

"Understood." You gave him a nod. "How many rooms did you clean." "Seven now." "Take a break then." Levi sighed deeply, removing his handkerchief. "I can actually breathe in here. Well done." Levi praised you. That meant so much. Any appraisal from the captain is sacred. You remember the first time he gave you a real compliment.

You had taken down Gunther in a hand to hand training session with ease. You remember his face when Gunther hit the ground, hard. Not even Petra could pull it off, hence why she's ranked the lowest in that section. Once the training session had concluded, Levi went up to you and placed a hand on your back as he helped you up onto your horse (You were going for a ride).

"Good job on getting Gunther down. Someone had to put him in his place." "Thank you." You then rode off for a good hour or so. That entire ride, his words replayed in your mind. Ever since, he's complimented you from time to time and you can recall just about each one. He's sweet when he wants to be.

You snapped the memory from your head.

"Is there anything you want me to do? I can help Petra with the yard work." "No. She's fine. If you want to do something, meet me near the dining hall in an hour. I'd like to make tea for us all. Hange will be here later tonight, by the way." "Wonderful. I miss her. Sure, see you in an hour then." He snorted at your words. "Miss her? How can anyone miss that freak?" Leon spurred to himself whilst walking out of the room.

He just doesn't get it.

-

An hour later, just as Levi said. You stepped down the creaky staircase and saw Levi pulling chairs off of the now cleansed tables. They were all stacked onto the tables when the floors had to be swept and mopped. Your hand dragged off of the railing as you slowly ambled over towards him. Levi looked over to you. He lost his breath for a second but you were unclear as to why. Maybe he's catching a cold.

He cleared his throat and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Can you start up the tea?" "Yeah, of course." You smiled. Your eyes went to right beside you were the doorway to the kitchen was. "How many cups?" "Seven please." "Alright." You entered the kitchen to begin the tea.

Before you came down to Levi, you changed. Maybe that was what caught his attention. You're still wearing your gear but you took your jacket off and put on a tighter shirt. The other one got stained and you felt unprofessional wearing it. You hate wearing this gear all day but it's prohibited not to. Wearing casual clothes feels even weirder though and rarely do you do so.

You poured the heated water into each mug and set the Jasmine tea into each one afterwards. The tea smelled amazing and you can't wait to sip on it. While it heats up and marinates, you'll help Levi out with whatever else he needs.

You exited the kitchen area and pulled the final chair off of the table. "We really cleaned this place up, huh?" "It was really only me, you and Gunther. I guess Petra too, she did good outside." "Nice to hear. She's a hard worker, don't you think?" "I suppose." Levi raised an eyebrow. "You know I am surprised Petra even speaks to you?" What does he mean by that. "Wait, what? How come?" Fear was evident in your tone. Does she secretly hate you???

"Nothing major. I just remember when you first joined she told me she was scared of you. She said it again more recently after you screamed at Eld for eating the final biscuit." Levi snorted. "Scared? Of me? But why?" You were dazed by this. You've always been so sweet to her. You are just a girl, not a threat. Especially not to any of the Levi squad, even Oulo as much as he engages you. "It isn't far of a stretch. You come off as mean sometimes." "I do?" Now you're even more puzzled.

This is a new revelation. You've tried your best to be a sweet girl. You hate coming off as bitchy. "It's nothing personal. You're just strong and very will powered. That kind of head strong attitude will intimidate someone, take it from me." Levi leaned against the wooden beam supporting the floor above you. "You don't think I'm mean?" "I've never felt that way-no. You've always came off as generous and kind, a bit more than you should be in this line of work." What a back handed compliment that was.

"I'm mean to Oulo... Maybe I should tone it down." "Don't. The runt deserves it." Levi shook his head. "You're right." You tittered, crossing your arms. The silence between the two of you was somehow loud and deafening at the same time. The eye contact between you two was different too. It felt like if you pulled your eyes away, he'd disappear. Did he feel the same? Your stomach twisted and you felt your face heating up. Levi does weird things to you.

You remembered the tea.

"I should go see if the tea is ready." "Yep." Levi cleared his throat. "I'll go get the others then. Thanks for uhm, helping." Levi nodded. "Anytime." You gave him a quick smile before heading back into the kitchen.

Why was that encounter son awkward yet so adrenaline inducing? Your heart is beating at a rapid rate. Him calling you kind and generous wasn't just it. It was also how he looked at you. He doesn't gaze at Petra like that. Hell, he's gotten on her for looking at him for to long yet he maintains eye contact with you? Maybe he's just having a better day. You don't know but Levi has always seemed to be different with you. That, you've noticed.

Each cup of tea was warm and ready. You took a quick sip and melted in it. It tasted good and was the perfect temp. Only picking up two mugs at a time, you had to take a few trips back and forth to even get them placed at the dining table. Once they all were though, everyone showed up and took their places. Eren seemed happy to finally have a moment of relaxation. Boy will he learn quick...

You sat down by Levi. He was at the end head of the table and you were to his left. He took a swig and nodded before whispering to you. "Lovely. Thank you." Two for two today! Meeting his expectations in cleaning and tea. This is a home run.

-

After a bit of talking, you heard Hange on the other side of the main door. "Ow!" She shouted with a cackle. "Hange." You whispered to yourself and smiled. Levi just slurped some of his tea. Petra was quick to let her in. "I'm sorry. Good evening team Levi!" She said happily whilst waving. "Hange, hey." You whispered. She smirked at you. You two are very close. She's your day one.

"How is castle life treating everyone?" Her words are adorable. "You're too early." Levi said in a dreadful voice. "Am I? Suppose I couldn't help myself." Hange replied while she stepped over to the one and only-Eren. "Section Commander Hange?" Eren stuttered out and looked over at her. Your eyes wandered to Levi and he was looking at you. You gave him a slight grin but he just went back to looking at Hange and Eren. Weird.

"Hello Eren. In the event you haven't pieced it together yet it's my job to lead the scout regiments research efforts." Here we go...

Everyone at the table remained quiet as Hange and Eren conversed. This is going to be so fucking long. You just laughed to yourself. Once Eren asked that forbidden question, you couldn't help but giggle. "Have a nice night Eren and Hange." You waved goodbye as the entire Levi squad left the room. There was no way you'd be sitting through that "lovely" conversation again as you had to when you first joined her squad those two years ago.

-

You are glad Hange showed up and it gave you all an excuse to leave and do your own thing. You are exhausted. All that riding and cleaning, it wears you out. Petra and Eld decided to sleep in the upstairs chambers (Separate rooms, of course) Gunther and Oulo took the East side chambers and you & Levi took the lowest floor. Each floor and section had one to three rooms, that's why everyone was spread out.

"Goodnight Petra, get your beauty sleep." You chortled. "You too!" She then closed her door. You walked her to her room because funnily enough, she hates dark hallways and Eld is too much of a ditz to help her. You began to make your way back down to the lowest floor. It wasn't the actual lowest but it was the lowest with sleeping quarters in it. There are two floors below it.

You pushed open the door and saw Levi leaving his room. "Hey Levi." You didn't even really mean to say that. It just sort of came out. "Hey." He stopped, holding a glass of tea. "Sorry if my tea wasn't as good." You chuckled, referencing his new glass. "It was. Don't worry. I'm just an addict." He joked. You smiled and nodded. "So I've noticed." You've never seen Levi out of uniform and in resting clothes. He looks great. Very handsome.

He's just wearing a long sleeve white shirt with black pants. You are wearing a beige sweater with pants. It gets cold here at night.

"Any plans for tomorrow? For us?" "I'm playing it by ear." "Gotcha." You kept your arms crossed. "You always ask me that." "What?" " "Any plans for tomorrow?" I've noticed you ask me that often." "Is it an issue?" "No. I like it. It shows me you care about your work." "I really do." "I know." Levi hummed in response. It's good to know he acknowledges your hard efforts. "You're different than the other members. You're always on your A game." "Thank you Captain." You blushed.

Levi scoffed to himself before letting out a low chuckle. "Excuse me but this is bothering me." He ambled to you and reached his hand behind your neck, tugging the tag of your sweater in. You snickered and thanked him. "I would've never noticed." His fingers grazed against your neck slowly as he dropped his arm to his side. "Yeah." He said softly, looking into your eyes.

As you gazed back into his brown orbs, you bit your lip. It was unintentional. Levi just makes you go crazy. Admittedly, you are crazy about him. You two have hit it off rather well. He's different with you despite it not being very professional.

"I hope you rest well." He spoke. "You too Levi." "Night. "Goodnight." You replied and he then walked back into his room and you did the same.

[loveselenade]

As a general rule, I self-impose on myself to make sure to do some readings before I open my mouth on here. But I just watched Mizu5, and it's both such a massively sobering experience and such a careful, well-crafted event, I have to write this.

Way before I even felt interested in getting through niigo's story, I knew that Mizuki got outed. I had been wondering this whole time why pick this narrative path, not out of a belief it shouldn't be portrayed, but trying to understand why have the climax of her long, taxing journey to try to trust her friends be co-opted by something so deeply violating. The answers are quite interesting.

Mizuki's conflict to come out to niigo gets introduced right on her first event---out of her belief that to belong in the group long-term, she needs to come out. It's not an entirely incorrect assesment, since she can't share her full interiority without talking about her subjectivity and opression as a trans girl. But it's also moored to her deep fears of her relationships tanking due either rejection or getting othered as a result of her coming out. We see her constantly ping-pong between deeply contradictory stances,her desire to trust and love niigo and her fears. We see her deeply-rooted avoidance coping and rumminating that land her in further isolation and hurt her deeply. Her arc then seems to be framed as a story of self-actualization where Mizuki will come out the other end a more well-rounded person, having trusted Ena (and niigo).

This is the narrative Mizuki herself tells herself. Since Ena took a step forward and maturely showed her patience and kidness, Mizuki has to repay in kind. Because she's always been a "coward", she's stagnate and has never resolved any of her problems. If she wants to be welcomed, keep up with, be of any use to niigo, she needs to step up and learn what she doesn't know, "what lies ahead of just running away". And so, her fifth event starts from this framing to self-growth as progressive and cumulative. She admires the bravery Mafuyu showed when facing her Father, so now she has to step up and not be left behind.

We follow her through the first half of the event as she psychs herself up and remembers the wisdom nuggets we've accrued so far: 1. that in order to live, she has to take that decision and advance wherever her heart and agency will be protected, 2. that she will always have an ally on her side, and 3. that she can allow herslef to imagine a hopeful, positive outcome from taking a risk. She's deadly terrified, but she's making an effort to face her prolems and this is good™ for her. We reach the midpoint as niigo fool around through the school festival. It's a hearwarming showing of their friendship full of fond memories. Once we reach her escape room, we get to see how much they pay attention to her words, how much they remember of her quirks, how much they understand how she thinks. How much they love her, to put it simply. It reassures her to take the next step, despite her nerve-wracking guilt and anxiety. It's all looking up now, we are building to thelong-awaited resolution of this plot thread. And then, the entire train gets derailed in seemingly random, inconsequential ways. And the jarring tone shift comes in part seveth, with the lack of bgm, the frankly boring, yet obscene, boy talk from the randos. Why crash Mizuki's big moment through no-ones that don't even get sprites?

But the truth is that Mizuki never had an ounce of control neither in the decision of coming out nor the timing of it. From her very second event, she's faced with the truth that either she tells them herself or she runs the risk of losing complete control over her own narrative via increasingly intermingling social circles, increasing outings, the pass of time itself. The longer she spends with them, the higher is the risk that the decision will be taken away from her hands. Ena's promise and the fact they're all shut-ins allows Mizuki to stall, but it was always a march towards the inexorable. She doesn't even get a chance to choose the time, as it comes from Ena's completely random whims over whether to attend the fest or not. In the end, a can of seasonings seals Mizuki's fate. While at school, her lack of control gets heightened: she can't control who calls to her or approaches them (luckily, it was just An and Akito), she can't control who's going to be at the reception of her class' event (luckily, it was just Tōya), she can't control who catches sight of her and seeks for her help, who goes to the rooftop, who approaches Ena. She can't even control the final answer of her locked room, despite being the space where she is the safest to conduct her narrative.

She blames herself for getting outed, for not having been braver, for not having said it sooner, for not being able to face Ena. As if navigating the violence she's subjected to were just a matter of her being clever, brave and fast enough to read every social situation correctly, respond correctly, act correctly.

The tonal, jarring, tonal shift reframes her whole narrative away from her personal choice to come out and how that specific event would go, her supposed "responsibility" to be truthful and trust niigo, how clever or brave she was. This was never about her quality of character or her personal growth, whether she could be brave or wise enough, but about a world that has always been bent on destroying her, regardless of how much she tries to bootsrap her way out of being deeply violated.

The other thing is that. Mizuki has always framed whether she can be together with niigo long term as a matter of whether she herself can trust them not to other her through the facade of tolerance. But a far more decisive factor has always been whether niigo would be able to navigate the violence Mizuki faces. Not even because they could get hit by proxy but because being able to fully welcome and hold her heart was going always going to involve understanding how precarious her position is, understanding how she's been utterly alienated and othered her whole life and how this affects how she relates to others. Because she's going to have to keep facing this oppression, no matter how much she tries to outsmart it. And if they couldn't help her navigate it, help her heal her heart, then it was doomed... And I think mizu5 really does raise that question by showing Ena be totally out of her depth. Can she even raise to the occassion? Can she work through her clownish cis cluelessnes, can she get past her biases, can she show Mizuki niigo truly is a safe space?