#and that statement alone will generate an hour of shit to talk about

[iknowhowtodream]

my therapist giving me permission to straight up say “i don’t want to be here today” has completely changed the game for me.

[delphi-shield]

Variations on a Theme

Claire Redfield x Leon Kennedy wc: ~2.6k post-vendetta, pre-death island. short fic that wouldnt leave me alone so i had to write it down. might write a continuation. happy sept. 30th, i miss my babies. dividers from @/adornedwithlight

summary: Sherry organizes a memorial service; Claire and Leon try to put aside their grief to mourn the way she does.

The call comes through at 11 PM the night before. Leon ignores most calls to his personal cell after nine, but for Claire, he makes an exception.

She never calls without purpose. Not anymore. There had been nights in the past when it had been anything and everything and the nothing in between that had kept them up until early hours of the morning. Calls crammed between operations and meetings, voicemails that still haunted his inbox. They had been better at this once.

The small talk hadn't been so stilted and forced like it was now. No ‘hey, I saw that report on Bali - was that you?’ because Claire would have known. He would have told her everything – or mostly everything. Leon would have redacted the parts that could get her into trouble. He'd leave out hostage scenarios gone wrong, spare her the inequity of his work even though she's sure to find out on her own.

Somewhere along the way, he'd started redacting so many details that his recountings had boiled down to ‘I'm glad to be back’. Somewhere along the way, Claire had stopped pressing for more.

Claire doesn't bother feigning interest in his last operation this time. She doesn't need to - TerraSave already put out a statement condemning the outcome.

She's good at small talk, always has been better at people than him. Conversation flows from her, connections come easy. He'd always admired that about her. Now, though, she's floundering. His short, to the point answers have her at a loss. That's new. Usually it just pisses her off.

“What’s going on, Claire?” he asks for the second time in their short conversation.

She lapses into silence. Redfield family trait - they love to go quiet on you when they've been found out. Like they're waiting for you to move on - like you'll forget if they just don't acknowledge it.

“Sherry's organized this memorial service,”  Claire finally broaches. “For - y'know. I think it would mean a lot to her if you were there.”

Dread weighs heavy in his stomach. Of course he knows. He's been dreading this kind of thing since Terragrigia, since the gritty details of bioterrorism had been shoved in the average American's home. It's not hard to put two and two together, to realize what the Raccoon City incident had been. Maybe the public would never know the full extent, the involvement of the government, but there's footage of a hunter on LiveLeak, for fuck's sake. You could cover this shit up in the 90's, but they hadn't been on top of things when the century had turned, when more information than ever had been pumped to the general populace. Now it was like sticking a bandaid on a hemorrhaging wound.

He didn't think it would be one of their own who did this, who dredged up Raccoon City's bloated corpse and put it on display. He thought some well-meaning intern, some politician looking for a bump in numbers, trying to seem empathetic might pull this stunt – but one of their own?

He can't tell if it's a dim sense of betrayal that's twisting his gut into knots or if it's anger. He's carefully curated his life to avoid this. The month of September is his memorial. He doesn't need the cameras, the spotlight - he doesn't need other people sobbing out their grief right next to him, not when he keeps his tight to his chest.

Jesus. Sherry couldn't have asked him herself? Not in person, God no – but sent him a calendar invite or emailed him a flier - something that would give him plausible deniability. Something he could ignore, slide into the recycle bin, claim he never received and curse technology. Sorry, Sherry. All this new technology is just tough for me to keep up with. As if he's not got the latest and greatest in hand at all times.

“Are you going?”

Claire is quiet on the other end of the line.

“It would mean a lot to her.”

Leon snorts. “That's a ‘no’.”

Claire's huff is almost lost through the phone, but he can picture her pout well enough. Lord knows he's the cause more often than not.

It's not just that he hates this kind of thing, or that he's still hot off the heels of Benson's death, that the media could have a field day with him showing up to an event like this. If the wrong people hear about this, they'll all be lambasted as nutjob conspiracy theorists. If the wrong people have found out about this, it could get dangerous fast.

Leon does the only thing he can think to. Deflect.

“She shouldn't be doing this shit,” Leon points out. “Raccoon City is still classified.”

He can feel Claire roll her eyes from the other side of the phone. He bites his tongue. Improvement, he thinks. A month ago he would have cut loose, blown this whole conversation up.

“She's not releasing classified info, Leon. It's a memorial.”

“Brass is gonna have a problem with this, and I don't know if I can bail her out.”

“She got it cleared months ago. You'd know if–” Claire stops herself. She's trying, too, he realizes when she swerves around the giant crater that was the way he'd spent a year drinking himself into oblivion. “You’d know if you actually checked your email.”

Damn. She's got him there. Maybe Sherry already tried the calendar invite and the flier. In his mind's eye, she's still 12 years old, ruddy cheeked and gap toothed - clicking clumsily around a computer to make a flier, sending it to him, waiting–

He stops that train of thought, pins the ache in his chest on a recently cracked rib.

“Nobody asks Valentine to go to this shit.”

“Jill's busy.”

“And I'm not?”

“Can you just show up for Sherry?”

“Can't we just take her out for ice cream after or something?”

“She's not–” 

Claire pauses on the other end of the line. Leon's not as good at this as he used to be, can't tell if she stopped herself so she doesn't laugh or so she doesn't snap at him.

Inhale. Shaky exhale. He can hear her struggling not to smile.

“She's not a kid anymore.”

He knows that. Of course he knows that. He's seen her in the field. She’s a powerhouse, full-grown and owning it.

Man up, Kennedy, he thinks. Do it for your girls.

The thought sends a jolt skittering across his skin, raises the hair on his arms. He hasn't thought of them like that in years - not sober, at least.

“I'm not sitting on the stage,” he says firmly.

“Me either.”

“And I’m not giving a speech.”

“I don't think it's a media thing,” Claire says, the way one might try to calm a spooked horse. “She just wanted to do something for people like us. It's gonna be low-key.”

Claire has a very different definition of ‘low-key’ than he does, but he hums all the same.

“All right,” he relents. “Send me the details.”

It doesn't take more than a few seconds for his phone to vibrate. She was ready for that, probably planned on sending it to him whether he said yes or no.

She sounds cheerful, reveling in her victory, when she winds up the call with the promise to see him next week. He can count the times Claire has been happy to see him lately on one hand; when he tosses his phone back to his nightstand, he counts that as a win.

The week flies by as if September 30th couldn't get there quick enough. Usually, the week of the 30th dragged - every hour of every day dedicated to a remembrance of the last normal hours of his life. Mourning is on hold for now - he’s saving it all up for Sherry's big event.

Claire texts him a reminder two days before. He types and retypes a response over and over, and somewhere in the revisions he realizes it's not just about him. She doesn't want to do this either. Not alone.

See you there. Ice cream after.

Leon’s locked in now. He prays for work to run long, for an emergency to crop up that sends him across the country - but the office is quiet. He's grateful not to run into Sherry, grateful that he won't have the chance to open his mouth and ruin things. There will plenty of time for that later.

You promised, he tells himself the morning of, phone in hand, debating on calling in sick. His feet are leaden when he dresses, hands heavy at the wheel of his car. He's in a daze the whole day, barely remembers driving to work. If anyone notices, they don't call him on it. He’s ghosting through another September unseen.

But the end of the day forces him back into his body. He'll be late if he sits in his car any longer. The engine turns over despite his prayers. He promised, he tells himself. He can't make them do this alone.

The park Sherry picked out for the memorial service is close to the office. He could walk, but he's not going to limit his options in case things go south, wants the ability to get in his car and bail. Halfway there, he realizes he's been followed. He stays in his car, watching the suburban in the rearview when they pull in a few spots down. Leon only relaxes when a gaggle of kids burst from the sliding door, run off ahead of their mother.

Claire's waiting for him when he hops out. She leans against her bike. Her hair is down - shorter than he remembers. Her thick jacket thrown over the seat of her bike, leaving her in a black turtleneck and a pair of orange corduroys.

“You know it's not formal, right?”

“I'm coming from work. Cut me some slack.”

Claire laughs, ducking her head. She pushes off of her bike and waves for him to follow. She swishes into the park ahead of him, her steps only faltering until he catches up to her side with a handful of long strides. Side by side like this, there’s enough room to slot Sherry in between them. Wherever she is - probably off playing party planner.

He always thought she’d be good at that. Sherry’s good at making sure people are taken care of, making sure they have what they need. She’s got a quiet sort of intensity that can spook people, sure, but she’s fun and exuberant - she could have had a shot at a real life, if things had been different.

She reserved a little gazebo for the event. White chairs in a handful of neat lines, a little charcoal grill off to the side, picnic table lined with candles and framed photos. It’s sweet, the way she’s done everything up. Probably put hours into this, getting things just so. She’s done a good job, honest.

Leon just can't stop checking every angle. He's braced for the sight of a flash - camera or muzzle, he's not sure which would be worse. Couldn't Sherry have picked somewhere more private? Couldn't she have rented out the basement of some bar, given him an excuse not to show? Sorry, Sherry, I'm working on myself - can't put myself through the temptation.

No. Of course not. She'd probably considered that already. The kid is too considerate for her own good. Rented out a gazebo just so no one had to face their demons.

Claire pauses at a row of chairs, gesturing for Leon to sit. He forgets to smile when he tears his eyes away from a suspicious copse of bushes. His hand ghosts against the small of her back, urging her to go first. He needs to be on the end, needs to be able to get to his feet quick when something happens.

If, he reminds himself. If something happens.

Claire slips into her seat without protest. Maybe the occasion has her feeling off, too. He tries not to read into it.

Leon lets out a low whistle as he sinks into his chair. “There's more people than I thought there'd be.”

“I know,” Claire hums. “Sometimes it feels like we're the only ones.”

How many people had been there? How many had been on the streets, had escaped by the skin of their teeth? How many of these people were here to mourn someone who had wasted away before their time?

His eyes lock onto hands and mouths, tries to match them to ones he sees in his dreams. Teeth snapping, hands teasing at him, pulling him under a writhing mass of rot, ichor spilling into his mouth, choking him.

Claire nudges him, leans closer. Her shampoo wafts across him, the stench of decades old decay that stings his eyes soothed by cherries. Her fingers light on his wrist.

“Still doing ice cream after? I know a place.”

If they were here for anyone else, he'd have grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her out to the parking lot. They'd cut the shit, go get ice cream and pretend things weren't complicated. He'd get butter pecan and Claire would tease him for being basic. Ice cream is a fifteen minute treat, but they'd linger until the parlor closed, until the workers were shooting them dirty looks.

But they're here for Sherry. Leon makes himself smile, mouth thinning.

“Yeah. After.”

People file in, some alone, the same haunted look that he wears well, others with whole families. There's maybe thirty people - small number on paper, but packed in like this makes it feel claustrophobic. He scans the crowd for Sherry again and again, searching for a glimpse of her. Claire’s hand stays on his wrist, heavier now. He wishes he could turn his hand and capture hers. He doesn’t know how to.

“She still comin’?” He murmurs to Claire.

“She better. This is her thing,” she grumbles back. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He knew she wasn’t all-in on this whole thing.

Before he can call her on it, Sherry beats down the center aisle, clambering up the steps of the gazebo. Leon clicks his tongue, sits a little straighter. There she is, digging Claire out of a moment of weakness once again.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Sherry starts, shuffling note cards in her hands. 

Claire lets out a coo under her breath. She leans closer, presses against Leon’s arm to whisper, “she’s so nervous. Look.”

Leon doesn’t need to be directed to see the tremble of Sherry’s fingers, but he looks anyway. Public speaking isn’t the issue, he knows that much - it’s got to be the topic.

Leon sits a little taller. He nudges Claire’s knee with his own, a silent ‘watch this’. He coughs into his fist, louder and longer than necessary.

Sherry tracks the sound instinctively. Her eyes light on them in the crowd. The apples of her cheeks bunch up, smile so wide that she's transformed right back into that little girl he knew, that clung to his hand and swung his arm as they walked down the road. Her words trail off, pause long enough to be noticeable but not to be awkward.

“I’m so grateful that each and every one of you have taken the time to come here tonight,” she continues, her eyes lingering on Leon, flitting back to Claire.

There. That’s his good deed for the month.

“You’re buying,” he whispers to Claire once Sherry’s eyes have finally drifted away.

Claire snorts. She pats his arm. He can see it all over her face - yeah, right.

Yeah, right. His girls are gonna burn an ice cream-shaped hole in his wallet by the end of the night.

[3arwig1ntestines]

My views on 👇 evil Jimmy when it comes to his RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: I think it’s pretty obvious his parents don’t give him attention (I see him as like. 19. Out of Highschool but still living at home) I mean, if they did pay attention he wouldn’t be getting away with this crazy shit. Though I personally think his parents are just too lazy to give a shit, I’m sure they realize their kids got problems, but they just don’t wanna deal with it because he “seems fine”. I don’t think he talks to them much either, due to lack of things to talk about. If he did go to them for anything, they wouldn’t be much help. And of course none of this would help him in his fucked up views. His parents brushing off his off kilter statements would reinforce to him that what he’s saying and thinking is normal, not to be concerned over. Which circles back to what I said before that he is predisposed to darker and more violent thoughts, and that he doesn’t have a frame of reference for what is and isn’t normal. He’d probably learn to stop talking about these morbid things, not because they make people uncomfortable, but because he sees them as just so normal that they’re not worth talking about. I think the most his parents talk to him is just to ask if he’s hungry, or needs anything. I also think as he grew up, his parents stopped doing things for him like brushing his teeth, laundry, that shit, and never enforced or reminded him that those are things he needs to do. So he just never got into the habit and that’s why bros gross. Something I said while discussing with a friend is that his parents don’t know him well enough to dislike him. Actually I think my friend said that? One of us did man I don’t know. But his parents neglect isn’t out of any serious disdain or hatred, they just see him and think “meh, he’s alive, and is at least passing his classes. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.” I think his parents would also find the topic of his mental well-being a difficult one, so they’d avoid it. Perhaps they feel bad for having a son who’s unstable and crazy, or perhaps it’s just too much and they don’t care enough. Whatever it is, the outcome is the same

Friendship: since I’ve said how this guy is socially inept, how do you think this’ll go? Sorry I jokes. You are very smart. Anywho! I think his main thing is that since he doesn’t have friends, and any he does have he doesn’t have for very long, he has the impulse to get as much of himself out as he can as soon as possible. This leads to him being very talkative, just saying whatever he thinks (this one especially), and probably would say some weird TMI shit too. Also being very pushy, if he did have a friend he’d be constantly asking them to go and do something, begging even. And would just never leave them alone in general. Like a constant stream of messages saying nothing that much matters. I hope y’all get the vision. He’d probably send like 50 texts in a row talking about something he saw online, his lunch, someone who pissed him off, some shock video, then ask if they like some stupid song he likes. All in the span of half an hour. It’d be worse irl because then he doesn’t have to type he can just keep going and going and go

I also do think that even if you could tolerate constant yammering, it would be walking on eggshells talking to him. If you said something he didn’t like, I think he’d let you know that in the most explosive way possible. As again, socially inept, doesn’t know how to handle those conversations, so he just does what his feelings tell him. You’d make some lighthearted joke at his expense, and he’d start yelling at you and seriously insulting you. Then the next day text you like nothing even happened once he calmed down. Oh but you could never do the same to him, that would probably lead to physical violence. And ontop of all that, I don’t think he’d realize what he’s doing is wrong at all. I’m sorry to say but I think bros kinda dumb and unaware. I’m sure he could learn, but that’s hypothetical, since I can’t imagine anyone tolerating him for long enough for him to get better. So this continued exclusion would make things just worse and worse for him

Relationships: ohhh ok. Oh no. This would not be good. I think he’d have many expectations, despite not having any experience, because of what he sees in media and imagines. I think he had a very active imagination. I could see him being very obsessed with his partner, worse than a friendship, because he’d go to them for absolutely everything. In friendships I think even though he has lacking understanding in boundaries, he still knows that “oh sex isn’t a thing friends talk about in depth” and probably want to keep up this cool persona with friends, so he wouldn’t complain about anything deeper than “oh this bitch made me angry I want to KILL THEM!!!” But with relationships, you always see how they can tell eachother anything in media, so he’d do that. Get ready to hear the most awful insane disgusting shit you’ve ever heard! I can also unfortunately see him pushing boundaries hard, due to the thoughts of “oh this is what relationships are/this is what you’re supposed to do in them” he’d also be painfully desperate. Lots of “why aren’t you responding?!?!” Texts, when the other person is just like napping or something. I don’t think he’d often know what to do with his emotions, so he’d dump them all on his partner. Subconsciously he’d want them to fix him, but obviously that’s not their job. So a breakup would happen fast. Which wouldn’t go well. He’d likely feel every emotion, and considering he doesn’t know how to handle them and is predisposed to violence, it would honestly be scary. He’d likely scream, beg, threaten, anything. Subconsciously he knows he’s intolerable, so losing anyone who seemed to be able to cope with him would be like taking the last banana away from one of those insane monkeys you see in those online videos. I don’t see him saying “if you leave me I’ll kill myself” as much as I see him “if you leave me I’ll kill YOU”. And even after that he’d probably be the stalking harassing type. It would be best to just not engage at all and get into that situation, or to make yourself somehow worse so that he loses interest and cuts it off himself.

While I do think he’s insanely obsessive, I think he’s also very prone to boredom. Considering he’s obviously someone who’s A LOT, he’d need someone who’s at least similar to yk match his squeak so to speak. So if someone he was with just suddenly got incredibly boring, he probably wouldn’t even realize that they were doing it to make him bored, and think it was their true colors showing in the relationship. Probably would think they were faking before to impress him. So yeah again I think he’s very easily bored and is constantly moving from one thing to the next. And if you can’t grab his attention he’ll go to whatever other thing will. I think he’s rather selfish wether he knows that fact about himself or not

To conclude this fucking stupid essay. I think Jimmy would be able to have friendships, it would just have to be under very odd circumstances and happen in a different kinda way for them to be somewhat normal. But it would be very rare and very difficult. I also think he expects a lot, and puts that on people, since he has no one then his one person would face the brunt of his every social need. He also doesn’t truly know what to expect, so he expects everything. But I think he’d also want to be that for someone, someones one and only. Wether that be a friend or a relationship. He’d be insanely jealous, and subconsciously have worries of “I’m going to be replaced” and “they don’t actually like me”. And he doesn’t know how to respond normally to the feelings of fear and jealousy, so he’d blow up on whoever it was and try and isolate them. Not because of some grand scheme, he wouldn’t intentionally be abusive, he’s just fucking stupid and very emotional. Volatile emotions. And at his core I think he just wants community, companionship, but he’s been set up for failure in that through both nature and nurture. And he doesn’t even know that. So he’s doomed to continue a cycle of failing and getting worse and more skewed in his thoughts, and endless downward cycle into isolation. Or something like that. I wrote this freezing cold shivering hard as fuck while I’m trying to hide from the rain. Please excuse any grammar and typos. More will come soon I just need to think. Also excuse any repetition, I am stupid.

[whenwillderekhalebehappy]

so i just started playing fallout 4 ,,, here are my preliminary opinions

- lame storyline, i don't want to be married heterosexual. idc abt this fuckass baby either.

- fr tho, it feels like the devs just chose the most generic backstory they could think of so they could get that part out of the way. it's not interesting or good. moreover, if that actually happened to a person, they'd be traumatized and terrified, not running around looking for guns and stimpaks. like, it feels like my character doesn't even give that much of a shit that this happened. like ooh the world ended, my wife was murdered, my infant child was kidnapped, it is 200 years in the future, but yeah no i don't have any questions, ill just roll with it. LAZY WRITING!

- also: how does the survivor know that his baby is still alive. the story has him frozen, unfrozen to witness murder and kidnapping, frozen again and then unfrozen to start the game. how am i supposed to know when that kidnapping happened? like yeah it could've been recent but it could also have been 100 years ago.

- upon exiting the vault you immediately start like 11 quests. why?? for what reason?? i just got here??

- do not love that feral ghouls will just lay on the ground waiting for you to get close enough so they can attack you. 1. its annoying, you get ambushed every time. 2. why would they be doing that, are they sleeping? waiting? doesnt make sense for them to be doing either of those things. they're feral, they wander around attacking whatever comes near them, they don't lie down and wait for prey, thats just ,,, not how they work?

- i especially dont like that the ghouls also dont show up as hostile on the little navigation bar until they get up. the whole point of that is so i know if there's hostiles in the area. if all the hostiles just sneak up on you, there's no reason to look at it.

- the fact that you can just max out your SPECIAL stats kinda defeats the purpose of those stats. the point is that it allows you to pick strengths and weaknesses for your character, instead of it being skills you can learn. it adds difficulty and personalization.

- i genuinely don't like the "improved" graphics. maybe its because my pc is shitty and i have to run low quality, but i cant see shit. especially all the harsh shadows make it really hard to gauge depth and to see things on the ground (like feral ghouls waiting to attack you).

- why is VATS under Q. thats dumb

- follow up: why are we now using the enter key and arrow keys in addition to wasd. let me keep my hand on the mouse instead of constantly having to switch (update: after 10 hours in-game i found out you can also press E, still stupid)

- why cant i just go up to people and ask them shit. why do i have to wait until they want to talk to me.

- i do like the whole settlement building thing. ive been having more fun with that than anything else tbh

- it is nice that you can make radaway and you dont have to rely on scavenging or bartering for it

- they are harsh on the raiders. like i get that they're enemies but labelling them 'raider scum' is a bit much. like thats still a person.

- in the intro thing they say war never changes at least 3 times. i get it. dont overdo it.

- also in the intro, they just say the US ended ww2 by dropping the bombs on hiroshima and nagasaki which is a VERY BOLD statement about history.

- i've barely encountered anyone who's nice. ive met preston and his friends but beyond that its basically been nothing but raiders. where are the friendly npc's? it makes the whole world feel hostile and empty

- the variety of weapons and mods is ,, actually a little too much. i don't know the difference between a pistol and a revolver, let alone what a receiver is. the game kind of expects you to just , understand what all these things mean and how to best modify your weapons. I don't. i barely know what i'm supposed to be looking at. "um yeah i definitely prefer the hardened enhanced glowsighted tempered auto pipe revolver pistol over the hardboiled standardized incendiary double barreled shotgun rifle" <- statement dreamed up by the utterly deranged

- recently encountered super mutants, why do they yell at you that they are super mutants. i know that. i mean, the character technically doesn't since no one's bothered to explain all the new creatures to him, but still.

anywho, ive only been playing for a week or so, so there might be more redeeming qualities later on. but so far im not very impressed

[themomsandthecity]

What Does Modern Parenting Look Like? 23 Millennials Share Their Rules

We're millennials, of course we don't make our kids hug anyone they don't want to. Or spank them as a disciplinary action. Or make them finish their dinner before having dessert. Because parenting the way our parents may have is exactly what is not in for 2024 - at least for the group of people between the ages of 28-43 who have children. Millennials are bringing a new wave of modern parenting, something that many argue is for the better. And while every generation of parents comes with certain rules and certain expectations aligned with the times people were living in, gentle parenting is making quite the statement with millennials (along with a few other parenting styles). So what does parenting actually look like today? What kind of rules are millennial parents enforcing, or actually not implementing at all? How does it differ from the way millennials were raised themselves? Below, 23 millennial parents share their parenting rules and tips. Related: Is Helicopter Parenting That Bad? Experts Break Down the Benefits and Drawbacks Here's What Millennial Parenting Looks Like "My daughter, who is 2, sleeps in our room, and she will until she doesn't want to anymore. I hated sleeping by myself as a kid, and as an adult, I still don't sleep alone. I never want her to feel alone in her own house." - Allie "My biggest thing is apologizing to my kids when I have my own 'big feelings.' I was raised tiptoeing around adults' feelings, and when they would blow up, I always felt like it was my job to apologize to them or do them favors or be extra sweet until they felt better. Now, I make sure to apologize to my kids when I lose my shit and explain that being a grown-up can be hard." - Christina "I answer all their 'whys' so they understand my perspective." - Rachel "I respect when my daughter says 'no' or indicates she doesn't want to do something. If I tickle her while we're playing and she says 'no,' I stop." - Hannah* "I'm totally OK with my kids taking mental health days off from school. Neither of them struggles with grades, so if they feel like staying home occasionally, I'm all for it." - Kristen "We don't spank our kids. We may smack a hand or two in the heat of the moment, but never anything more than that. My mom was a spanking mom when I was a child, so it's something I feel really strongly about." - Lauren* "We don't comment on food." - Savanna "We don't make our kids eat everything on their plate in one sitting. If they don't finish their food, they put it in the fridge. When they ask for a snack, they eat whatever's left on their plate before getting something new." - Desirae "We let my daughter see us fight but also let her see us repair after a fight." - Erin "I make sure to apologize to my kids when I lose my shit and explain that being a grown-up can be hard." "Our screen-time rules are two hours of screen time per day. But also, no chatting with anyone on their computer games. If they want to chat, they can communicate with their preapproved friends on FB Messenger Kids." - Jamie "My daughter loves ballet but hates recitals, so no forced performances. I would've been forced to get on stage. She sat with us in the audience and happily cheered her sister and friends on at their recital. If she learns that you can love something without needing to produce a product, I'll be thrilled." - Emily "We don't idolize dessert. It's not something she earns, sweets are given to her the same way every other type of food is. Food in general is not a reward." - Kim "We don't talk about bodies except for what they can do and how they work. Never what they look like or what someone else looks like." - Katherine "My son is only 3 and my daughter only 8 months old, but I don't talk negatively about my body in front of them," - Ashley* "I never hold a grudge or use the silent treatment. We talk about emotions and work through them." - Jamie "We definitely… https://www.popsugar.com/family/millennial-parenting-style-rules-tips-49335548?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[rinskirt]

does ami still know how to use tumblr?

i figured i could start journaling again. tbh i always liked long-form journaling a lot more than short-form blurbs and updates. twitter is more for memers, or people who like to make big, bold statements. i like to flesh things out, or think in pointless circles, which usually means 10-tweet threads no one asked for cluttering up their timelines. my posts aren't funny, or entertaining. i feel like i come off as really annoying on twitter. which for a long time has sucked and made me use of the site unpleasant. especially since it seemed like the last one left. but with twitter falling, where else is there to go?

i wish we could just bring back livejournal. i feel like the way hey separated things into communities--so you weren't forced to get annoyed over memes that aren't even for you in the first place, or diatribes about ships that are only logical and enjoyable to the people who ship them--was sincerely superior. i miss it. sadly, i don't know if it will ever come back since social media prioritizing engagement means the more people who see something, the better--even more so if it starts a fight because that will mean even MORE engagement, and even MORE clicks, and the cycle just keeps going.

tbh, for a couple years now i've been thinking it would, mentally, be so much better for me if i just quit social media. then i wouldn't have to see my friends' super exciting lives while i'm sitting home alone for the nth weekend in a row. it would mean less comparing myself to other people. more time to spend on doing things that would actually better my life. but it's a scary thought. because i'm so used to social media, so used to relying on the constant presence of others, would i still reach out to people? do i even know how to reach out to people anymore, without just screaming into the void that is twitter and hoping someone hears? will everyone forget i ever existed if they no longer see my tweets? or, worse, will they actually be glad i'm not on their feed anymore? would leaving social media just mean i'm alone from here on out?

idk. this is the dumb shit that haunts me. i grew up on the internet and on social media--was a part of the first generation to do so--so it's hard to envision my life without it. (really, social media is probably why my ability to reach out to others is so stunted...) plus, as an otaku, you kind of need social media to connect to others who share your interest. at least, you do if you're not an intensely outgoing extrovert. which i am most definitely not.

going to the genshin concert made me long so much for at least one actual flesh-and-blood friend who would want to go with me to stuff like that. i had so many feelings and thoughts that i just stewed over the entire walk back to the station, and then the hour and a half train ride home. all around me were people discussing it excitedly during every intermission, but i just kinda sat there and stared into space, listening to everyone around me talk, taking in all their thoughts and feelings and not being able to share any of my own.

i'm not someone who minds doing things alone. i think because of who i am, and the life i live, and the illness i've been dealt, i couldn't survive if i wasn't willing to do things alone. i feel like maybe that's a very lonely thing to say, and a very lonely way to think, but it's just my reality. i decided to abandon my entire life in the states where i already didn't have a ton of friends, and i came to a place where most of the people are just as shy and unwilling to reach out to strangers as i am. plus i continue in this limbo of moderately-okay-but-not-great japanese, at the level where you plateau if you don't speak much. and i don't speak much. i have a lot of trauma around speaking. it takes a very safe atmosphere to coax it out of me.

i was considering starting a journaling style that i saw recommended, where rather than writing, you record yourself speaking your thoughts and feelings. and while i know that would probably be very therapeutic and helpful for me in the long run, i haven't been able to bring myself to do it. in a book i've been reading lately, "the body keeps the score" by bessel van der kolk, he discusses how trauma freezes the part of the brain that processes language, and makes it hard to actually discuss what you're feeling. that's always been a problem for me. i don't want to talk about things. i don't want to put certain feelings and thoughts into the world. i don't even know how. not even to my phone in the privacy of my home.

but i do want to try it, if i can get myself to that point. i really do want to get better. i want so badly to stop being afraid of everyone in my life, of being abandoned by them, or being hated by them if i open up and show them the worst of me. if i admit how lost and sad and trapped i feel a lot of the time. i feel like i look like such a negative person, such a bitchy and whiny sadsack of a human, but it's because i'm afraid of everything. i'm like that annoying small dog that's so afraid you're going to kick it and so it makes itself as unpleasant to be around as possible so you just leave it be. if no one likes me, if everyone just leaves me alone, i'm safe. i can't be hurt anymore.

for how sad this journal entry comes off, though, i feel like i've been in an okay place mentally lately. the fact that i've been going out and doing stuff again is a sign of that. for a long while i remembered the first year i was in japan, how excited i was to go out and just do things, even if i had no one to do them with. but sometime around covid, that started slipping away--i stopped leaving my apartment until i was invited out, and stopped going to restaurants and shops and events unless someone would hold my hand. but i'm finally in a place where i feel like i've started to rebuild a bit.

i've been thinking a lot lately about what my priorities are, and what i can do to achieve those things, so i can have some semblance of peace and stability in my life. and right now, i feel like i want to just prioritize the idea of feeling good about myself and good about my life. i worked so hard to get to where i am now, and it feels like such a waste to be living it miserably. and while part of me can't help but feel like being miserable is just the hand i was dealt with my anxious, weird brain, i want to try to do something about it. i don't want to just continue to be sad about things and let those things fester even if they're things that can be changed.

so for now, i'll change the things that are in my power to change--my diet, my sleeping habits, getting enough exercise, doing more of the things i enjoy, cutting out more of the things that make me miserable (no matter how fun and addictive they seem in the moment...), and just being kinder to myself if i fail in any of those at any given moment. i want to feel like i am some power over my life again, however little.

anyway. now that i've made myself cry writing this, i need to run to the store. but it truly is therapeutic to actually type all this out. i enjoyed it. i missed journaling. i'll have to do this more often.

[vivithefolle]

Hot take: the only reason people can ship Dramione and its polar opposite Romione is because Hermione isn't really well developed in the books. We don't know the extent of her motivations, goals and desires, so people just project onto her and turn her into whatever they want. Ron/bad people ships aren't as common as Ron/good people ships, because Ron is a fleshed out character who has his own dreams and deal-breakers. People can't project onto him that much because he's already his own person.

Hmm, I wouldn't say it's that.

Issue is, you've got tons of people who project onto characters that have ZERO in common with them.

How many times have you read

Hermione is totally an introvert

or

Hermione was HORRIBLY BULLIED by Ron

Neither of these statements are true: they're a result of people mistakenly projecting onto Hermione their own traits, because all they recognize of her is "girl who reads". They aren't interested in anything beyond the superficial resemblance (and let's be honest, had JKR made Hermione antagonistic or made her seriously fuck up on something important, half of them wouldn't be so eager to identify with her, either).

Hermione is empathetically NOT an introvert: she's not a shy, timid girl that hugs her book to her chest, demurely looks away and mumbles that she'd like some time alone. Hermione is an extravert with bad social skills, she wants to communicate, she wants to discuss, she thrives off a good debate. That's why she so often butts heads with Ron, and seems to "never argue with Harry" (which is false, but that's another projection/misconception): Ron bothers to engage with Hermione, while Harry will either tune her out or try to avoid her (especially more so later on when she lectures him about shit he doesn't want to do (Occlumency!)).

Ron's behaviour towards Hermione wasn't bullying either; it can even be said that Hermione was vaguely harrassing Harry and Ron ("Harry couldn't believe someone could be so interfering") because at first the points system and showing she's the best student are all that matter to her, and she sees them as wasting her effort. Harry and Ron just rebuke her then flee; that is THE OPPOSITE of bullying. Bullying is seeking a victim and never. Letting. Them. Go. It's deliberately picking the lone person in the crowd that's unlikely to fight back. It's deliberately isolating them so they can be an easier target, it's harrassing them til they snap because it's "funny".

Ron never does any of that. Ron might say or do stuff that Hermione dislikes and she'll make it known and the two will have a pointless argument then not talk to each other for an hour, then it's all forgiven and forgotten in time for dinner.

It IS true that Hermione is less defined as a character than Ron is, especially when it comes to their family situation: Ron has a context surrounding him. We know his family is big, that they're poor, and that he's the sixth son just before the only daughter (who was born less than a year after him, meaning Molly was already pregnant when Ron was a newborn!!). This gives us so much info about Ron already, how he might act, his relationship with his family, what topics he might be uncomfortable with...

Meanwhile Hermione's parents are dentists... that's it. We don't know what else there is. The name "Hermione" can indicate that maybe they're into English classics or Greek mythology and that's that. We don't know if they're lower middle class or upper class, we don't know if they're living in London or in some other place, we don't know anything about them and not knowing anything we can't put Hermione in a specific context. We don't even know if she actually was bullied at school, it's just a headcanon based on the collective experience of a generation of bookworm schoolgirls! Hermione does get characterization pertaining to social justice, but it becomes pretty secondary (not to mention a lot of it really seems like lip-service or virtue signalling when you consider how JKR goes about it).

Ultimately it's not really about Hermione, Ron or Draco; it's about shipping themselves with the Next-Door Sexgod Childhood Friend or the Redeemed Racist That Saw The Light.

[letarasstuff]

Ranting

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: In the middle of midterms, Spencer's daughter has enough and for the first time in her life, she rants to the team

Warnings: one swear word, school, school stress, mental breakdown, shitty friends, a bit of angst (but there is fluff to balance that out), weird grammatical sentences that are according to google correct

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________ As a teenager, Spencer was pretty closed off. But this had several reasons, like being a child (or moreover a teen prodigy) at college and getting his first Ph.D, or that he hadn’t had a safety net of people he could have gone to. So as he became a father himself, he tried everything possible to assure his own daughter that her feelings and thoughts are always welcome and valid.

Unfortunately (Y/N) herself has developed the same habit starting high school and ever since Spencer can’t do anything to get her to open up to him. It’s not like they don’t have a good relationship, they have one of the strongest father-daughter bonds the BAU has ever witnessed. The girl simply has other ways to cope with her feelings and how to act them out in the safety of her own four walls. Her father learned to accept it, knowing that he can’t and won’t force her to talk to him.

So what follows now not only shocked Spencer. But also his work family.

It’s the time every teen in high school dreads: Midterms.

A word a teacher can mutter and a shiver goes through the rows of students in the classroom. Or at least it feels like it to (Y/N). She takes her school work very seriously. In her mind every single grade determines her future.

The rational part in her knows that the grades in her sophomore year doesn’t matter. That they are even long forgotten when she graduates. There is just so much pressure on her. But it isn’t coming from her father.

Spencer is pretty laid-back regarding school. He knows his daughter is trying her best and that it’s just the tenth grade and not the end of the world. School is not everything life has to offer, especially he has to know it as a scholar and profiler flying through the country in a jet back and forth.

It’s (Y/N)’s classmates, who pressure her to get good grades.

“We depend on you and your notes”, Tyler exclaims as he jogs next to her through the busy hallway. “Ty, I know. But I don’t have the time to get them done for all of you to understand by tomorrow. They are still a mess that only I know to see through. I still have to finish my history project and I go to my Dad’s work this afternoon, which means I won’t get much done and I still have to do the homework I got today before sorting my notes for the test in two days.”

At her locker, the boy still doesn’t let go of the subject. “Do you want to say that our grades don’t matter as much as yours? Because this would be a true selfish statement.” Maybe it is the lack of sleep, because she pulled three all-nighters in two weeks, or the fact that she is slowly getting fed up being treated like an unpaid private teacher, but (Y/N) can’t stop her sassy answer. “Tyler, you wouldn't even know how to tell apart your ass from your head if it weren’t for me and my help in biology. You wouldn’t even know how to spell selfish if I didn’t let you copy my answers in spelling tests in elementary school.”

Done with the day and her friend’s shit, she slams the door of her locker shut and leaves a flabbergasted boy behind. Half an hour later the teenager enters the bullpen with her visitor badge clipped to the pocket of her sweater.

On the way there she was fuming. The audacity of her friends. It’s not only Tyler, who tried to get her notes of a unit, she was the only one listening, even though the teacher said loud and clear that this will be important for midterms. A few other friends out of the group she usually hangs out with texted her the same question of when her notes will be given to them. Understandably, (Y/N) comes into the office in the worst mood anyone from the team ever saw, including her own father.

“Hey Sweetheart”, he tries to greet her with a hug. Even though both of them are not big on touch, they are extra affectionate with people they are close to.

To everybody’s surprise, the girl takes a step back, effectively avoiding his open arms. “Hey”, she grumbles out before taking a seat in the chair already waiting for her. Nobody is allowed to sit in this one, except for her. Not even Derek has ever put his butt on this one, knowing the sacredness of it.

Without sparing anyone another glance, (Y/N) gets the needed stuff for that history project out and continues working on it. The team resorts to throwing a questiongly look to Spencer, who shrugs his shoulders with a look of despair. So everyone resumes their work without even daring to say a word.

The general silence is occasionally broken by an unnerved sigh leaving the teenager’s lips. “Is the conference room occupied?” She asks, her voice clearly showing how annoyed she is. Her father shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. Do you need help with your school work?” This is obviously the wrong thing to say. “Do I look like a baby? I don’t need anyone to help with that, I have been going to school for ten years now, I think I can handle this project as perfectly fine as I did since day one. It’s just your keyboard typing that will be the reason for my first grey hairs if I don’t get out of here soon.”

Quickly (Y/N) gathers her stuff and storms off into the conference room. Immediately the team crowds her father’s desk. “What happened?” “Who hurt her?” “Go, talk to her!”

“Guys, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m at the same loss as all of you. The only thing I know is that (Y/N) is under pressure, because it’s midterms. But judging by the way she reacted, I don’t want to go near her. It’s safer to try to defuse a bomb than talk to her in that mood. Last time I saw something similar, her favorite show was declared finished, got a revival and then didn’t get one and nobody mentioned it again. She was so mad, I think it took three years of her life.” A silence of uncertainty spreads through the room.

“What about we give her some room until she calms down?” JJ suggests, being unsure herself how to deal with a teenage girl. But the rest agrees and goes back to filling out their paperwork.

This continues for about 20 minutes, till a loud bang and a frustrated scream is heard followed by “DON’T THEY WANT TO GET IT OR ARE THEY JUST STUPID?!” Alerted by that, seven people (yes, even Dave and Aaron leave their offices, while Penelope was already in the bullpen) storm into the round table room only to see a more than outraged (Y/N).

“Sweetheart”, Spencer speaks to her in the gentlest voice they ever heard from him and slowly moves towards his daughter, “What’s going on?”

Her response is delayed by several deep breaths she has to take in order to be able to talk without seething. “ALL OF MY SO CALLED FRIENDS ARE ASKING ME FOR MY NOTES, like do I look like a personal tutor? And when I tell them that I got a life, a life outside of school and grades, because otherwise I go completely bananas, just like all of you say, they get mad. Now they act like I’m the most selfish person in the whole world. I’m so done, can’t they understand that they are old enough to take care of their own stuff? I’m not responsible for them, their grades or anything regarding their lives. Otherwise I would be the mother of at least four toddlers and one baby and at the age of sixteen I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility. I know friends are there for eachother, and I really don’t mind helping them from time to time. But what they are doing is terror. Terror.

“Oh and don’t get me started on their tormention if I get something lower than an A-. Then they suddenly transform into geniuses, like they suddenly know everything possible. Of course, I’m the dumb one. I should have studied more.

“I am under an insane amount of pressure, because I know they rely on me, but enough is enough. I tell them that if anyone asks me for anything school related again and they act like I owe them an answer, I’ll cut off all ties to all of them. What am I, a roboter just there for their needs, without some of my own?”

After her long rant, (Y/N) takes a couple more breaths. It’s pretty much the only sound right now, because the team is stunned. None of them heard her talking, no ranting, like that. Not even her Spencer has seen her like that.

Realizing what she just said, the teenager fidgets nervously with her hands. “I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you know, blow up like that. I, I really don’t know where this came from.” Nervously she scratches the back of her head. It really wasn’t her intention to let it out like that. Her plan was just to come home tonight and deal in the confinement of her own four walls with all of her feelings. It’s easier to be honest to yourself when you are alone than having an audience watching you losing it.

Suddenly (Y/N) finds herself engulfed in a massive bear hug. “Oh, my sweet sweet summerchild. You needed to rant to us and I’m so happy you did. Even though your uhm, friends, sound like big douchebags, we can help you sort something out”, Penelope tells her while keeping her arms around the teen.

“Just like lil mama said, we are here for you, Baby Reid. Don’t ever be afraid to tell us something, may it even be as small as you having stubbed your toe.” Morgan ruffles her hair and gives her a reassuring smile.

Just like them everybody shows her their support, be it encouraging words or affectionately gestures. Rossi invites her to a calm and quiet dinner at his mansion, cooking class included. Hotch assures her that she will get through this rough patch, with or without these fake people. JJ suggests (Y/N) comes over to her home and she can participate in a family game night at their home.

When it’s Emily’s turn, she makes sure to get her message loud and clear by looking the teen in the eyes (not as deep as it sounds, because some people make an intense stare really uncomfortable): “If those kids give you a hard time again, tell me. I’ll pay them a visit in classic protective godmother fashion, because nobody traits MY godchild like this. Just give me their names and I’ll handle the rest.” Obviously she doesn’t say this aloud in front of everyone, else Hotch will have her head, knowing she goes through with her threats. Instead she whispers it into the teen’s ear. Still, it makes (Y/N) smile, having such a strong support net.

Sensing the family’s need for time of their own to talk about the whole situation, the team leaves the room. Spencer gestures to her to take a seat after moving two chairs opposite each other. He wants her not to feel trapped.

“Do you still want to talk about it? It doesn’t have to be now, we can do it tonight, tomorrow, in a week or in a month. Just, please don’t shut me out. I know it’s difficult to be a teenager, especially in times like these. But it won’t do you any good keeping all of this for yourself. Today you took it out through anger. How will it look next time?

I don’t want to pressure you into talking. We don’t need to. We can find other coping mechanisms. We can try and reduce your stress. Anything. But we both know that this is not the right way.” While speaking, he takes his daughter’s hand, making her look up to him.

(Y/N) nods. Her eyes fill with tears. “I just can’t keep going like this.” She whispers, feeling all the stress, pressure and the intensity of the last few weeks crashing down on her. Quickly Spencer gathers her in his arms, letting her cry in his embrace.

After calming down, she looks up to her father with bloodshot eyes. “We can talk tonight. But I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything”, he assures her, stroking a hand along her back. “I, uhm, I need a new phone. I may or may not have thrown mine against the wall after getting a text from Tyler.”

Spencer looks at the crooked cell laying on the floor, the screen cracked. “I think we can get that sorted”, he tells her with a smile and gives her a kiss on the forehead.

The two of them leave the office earlier, having many things to talk about and many problems to solve. But with the help of her family (Y/N) gets through this, a time where people unfortunately only like her for her smarts and not being herself.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

[lannasroleplaymemes]

BO BURNHAM: INSIDE Sentence Starters

From Bo Burnham’s newly released Netflix special. Trigger warning for mentions of suicide and generally pessimistic/cynical statements, plus swear. Tweak as needed.

"It's a beautiful day to stay inside." "Daddy made you your favorite, open wide." "The world is so fucked up." "There's only one thing I can do about it...while being paid." "Should I be joking at a time like this?" "Don't panic, call me." "Should I stop trying to be funny?" "Should I give away my money? NO." "I'm a special kind of guy." "I self reflected and I want to be an agent of change." "So I am going to use my privilige for the good." "So maybe I should just shut the fuck up." "I don't wanna do that." "I'm ___ and I'm here to save the day." "And yes they'll pay me, but I'd do it for free." "I'm healing the world with comedy." "If you start to smell burning toast, you're having a stroke or you're overcooking your toast." "Somebody help me out, 'cause I don't know." "And I want to help to leave this world better than I found it." "Welcome to whatever this is." "Trying to distract myself from putting a bullet into my head with a gun." "Pour me a drink and clear my schedule." "These 40 minutes are essential." "Say hi to dad." "And that's the deepest talk we've ever had." "Today we're gonna learn about the world." "I've been in a frightening liminal space between states of being. Not quite dead, not quite alive." "It's similar to a constant state of sleep paralysis." "The simple narrative taught in every history class is demonstrably false and pedagogically classist." "Don't you know the world is built with blood and genocide and exploitation?" "Private property's inherently theft." "Every politician, every cop on the street protects the interests of the pedophilic corporate elite." "Just don't burden me with the responsibility of educating you, it's exhausting." "I'm sorry, I was just trying to become a better person." "Why do rich people insist on seeing every socio-political conflict through the myopic lens of your own self-actualization?" "This isn't about you. So either get with it, or get out of the fucking way." "Have you not been fucking listening?" "I can't go...I can't go back. I'm sorry." "Are you going to behave yourself?" "Yes. Yes Sir..." "I learned my lesson and it hurt." "I come in and I put their fears to rest." "Tell them you're against racism -- in theory." "Will you support us in the fight against lyme disease?" "There's no sugarcoating it, the world is fucked up." "An avocado, a poem written in the sand..." "Is this heaven or is it just a white woman's instagram?" "It's been a decade since you've been gone." "Your little girl didn't do too bad." "Is that...is that necessary?" "Can anyone, any single one of you, just shut the fuck up? Just about any single thing? For an hour? Is that possible?" "Who needs a coffee 'cause I'm doing a run?" "I'm an unpaid intern." "And since you can't afford a mortgage, you just torrent a porn." "If you had told me this a year ago, I would've said 'Interesting, now leave me alone.'" "Look, I'm confused. I'm very, very confused." "Oh, if I'm self-aware that I'm a douchebag, it'll make me less of a douchebag." "Am I balding?" "This is really, really disturbing." "Amateurs can fucking suck it." "Fuck their wives, drink their blood!" "A handful of bug-eyed salamanders in silicon valley..." "Maybe that as a way of life, forever, maybe that's um...not good." "I'm...horny." "It isn't sex it's the next best thing." "Tonight I'm thinking of taking it slow." "We'll use emojis only." "We don't need phonetical diction." "We'll talk dirty like we're ancient Egyptians." "What if now you think that I'm implying your vagina is as big as a Ferris wheel?" "Crisis averted, thank god." "They made the internet for nights like this." "I love you, baby. Send a picture of your tits, please." "Jesus fucking Christ I guess I never learn." "My phone's flash is my only light and the flash makes my dick look frightened." "I chicken out and send a picture of my face instead." "My dick looks like the baby from eraserhead." "So I send it to you and then my phone dies." "One hand on my dick and one hand on my phone." "Another night on my phone, yeah." "I'm not feeling good." "All my clothes are dirty." "What's up you useless fuck?" "I haven't had a shower in the last nine days." "I'm not really feeling like I wanna get lit." "My current mental health is rapidly approaching an all time low." "Yeah, so um, yeah, not doing so great." "Do I really have to finish?" "Do returns always diminish?" "Did I say that right?" "I wrote offensive shit and I said it." "Times are changing and I'm getting old." "My bed is empty and I'm getting cold." "I'm problematic." "He's a problem." "Are you gonna hold me accountable?" "I'm gonna go home and burn it." "I've been totally awful." "And I'm really fucking sorry." "Bitch I'm trying to listen." "Well that's fine, you radiate such youth." "Yay." "Nooooooo!" "God...goddammit." "Oh yeah? Well your fucking phones are poisoning your minds, okay?" "So when you develop a dissociative mental disorder in your twenties, don't come crawling back to me." "My stupid friends are having stupid children." "I'll be 40 and kill myself then." "I just want to say for the record, um, that I do not want to kill myself, okay?" "Can you not, please?" "There are people that love y--I mean, that's not true, necessarily, but there could be." "Are you tired of it? Never mind, I don't want to know." "Welcome to the internet." "There's no need to panic." "Don't act surprised, you know you like it, you whore." "Apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime." "And that has made me completely freak out." "So, yeah, who fucking cares?" “Is it just me or do pirates need to take better care of their fucking maps?”

[watevermelon]

Patience is a Virtue | Shinsuke Kita x Reader

✧ Summary: You lost track of the days that you were in love with Kita. He was so much more than just the team mom that many outsiders dubbed him as. He was the wielder of cold-logic and held the bluntest of words at times, but he showed his own special brand of care for each member of the team. What you hadn’t expected was for him to especially care about you.  ➳ Warnings: Language because twins lmao ➳ Tags: Childhood friends to lovers; mostly fluff and humor; Atsumu being a little shit; friends trying to be match-makers; mild jealousy on Kita’s part; introspection and some character development

✧  Masterlist

---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---

As the manager of the Inarizaki volleyball club, you were no stranger to the antics of your generally loud team. And while this was usually elicited by the twins, with most of the team ahem especially Suna being no help (since many would rather film then break-up the fight), you were almost a pro at keeping them calm to the public eye.

You grew up alongside most of the members of the team, a strange connection between all of the players. From advanced classes in junior high to being literal neighbors to some of them, you were long-term classmates with many of the members - including the captain himself.

Kita was much more than the doting team mom than people gave him credit for. Yes, he was often the face of the team, the voice of reason that handled the interviews and other press coverage, but this all came from a place of stone-cold reason. He had strict routines and never cared about doing things without practical rationale. Kita had a mature way of thinking, often compartmentalizing both people and emotions, to the point that it made people his own age not relate to him.

Even the quiet Suna, the analytical little shit who loved to poke fun at said captain, had honestly admitted that he thought Kita to be on the robot-side of the emotional spectrum. 

And, despite all this, Kita was the long-term object of your affections.

It was all the little things that made your crush on him grow. From his proper speech, the blunt words no matter to whom he was speaking to, or his unusual brand of care he extended toward his teammates, Kita was the foundation of Inarizaki that you fell for. And when he was named captain of the volleyball team? You almost cried alongside him, reveling in the rare fit of pure happiness that he was gracing your eyes with.

You remembered the last time you walked home together, for once not being called away on separate duties as captain and leading manager. He treated you to ice-cream and walked along you side-by-side.

“Mint chocolate-chip with two cherries.” He told the street-cart vendor confidently, knowing your favorite flavors by heart at this point.

You ordered for him in kind, receiving the treat from the vendor as Kita paid for both of your orders. Anyone else would be contesting it, but you knew that Kita would not take no for an answer. He did stuff like this all the time with you, you were better off not fighting it. This was not the hill you wanted to die on.

But you were surprised when Kita licked at your ice cream, smiling as he tasted it and maintaining your gaze head-on. The shock on your face must have been evident since the smirk on his widened. You reached for the cone in his hand, only for him to lightly slap it away.

“Should I be asking with a pretty please or something?” You asked with a playful pout.

“No.” Kita replied, before lowering it to your eye-level.

Did he want you to lick it? While he was holding it????

Wordlessly, you followed his silent command and felt the minty taste of your afternoon snack on your tongue. Kita watched the action, eyes following your tongue as he shot you a friendly smile. He pulled away before you could get that much more, before licking your ice cream again.

Was that an indirect kiss???

“My, you two make quite the couple.” The vendor commented, clasping her hands together as she watched your interaction.

“We’re not dating.” Kita answered, squashing any hope you had from that interaction.

He was just?? So confusing??

You had so many little moments like this over the years. So many that had you often questioning deep into the night what truly was your relationship with the blunt captain of Inarizaki. You fell for him so many years ago, it made you wonder when was the last time you really thought of him as just a friend. Did he truly not know about your feelings?

But Kita was smart and on just as many occasions, you wondered if he knew the truth but simply did nothing about them. If he could read the twins with little effort, there was no doubt he understood your feelings long-ago, but decided not to act.

At least, that was your reason behind not openly admitting it to him:

That Kita knew you had a crush on him. And since he did not feel the same, it was better off if he did not address them.

And so you never brought it up, stewing in silence for years. 

Eight years was a long time to be in love alone.

“You should just give up on him.” Jisoo, your fellow Inarizaki manager commented one day. She was in the same class as the twins, a year your junior.

The both of you were lounging outside in the courtyard for lunch, a humidly hot day that made the two of you especially lazy this particular school-day. Only a few more hours more and you would be free of classes, liberated of any schoolwork and finally enjoying the weekend.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking at the different posts on social media from your various friends. Atsumu had posted of his serve practice the day before, his comment section flooded with various hearts by his fan-club of all things. Osamu’s private Instabook was of food while Aran’s had posted one of the day’s blue skies.

“Why would I do that?” You asked with a sigh, already used to her trying to guide you away from him. You understood why, it was hardly a smart decision to hold onto your feelings, not that you really cared.

“Aren’t you tired of it by now?”

But was that a good enough reason at this point? You were a third-year and about to graduate. If there was one thing that was constant throughout your entire life in the farming prefecture you called a home, it was that you had feelings for the captain.

The sky was blue. Summer was hot. You liked Kita.

It was that simple sometimes. And while there were moments that hurt your heart, it was not like you had any head-space to even try to stop.

“Maybe.” You answered candidly, “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to. But I don’t want to either.”

“I worry about you, senpai.”

“What can I say?” You tried to joke, even with your sad smile. “Kita has my heart on lock-down.”

“We’re all going to the twins’ party this weekend, why don’t you try talking to some of the guys there?”

“Not this again.” You complained as you put your phone down on the table.

“Come on!” Jisoo pushed, “I’m sure there’ll be someone there that peaks your interest.”

You raised a brow in response, doubt evident on your face.

She teased, “It could also be on a purely physical level.”

Laughing at her statement, you said. “Like that’s any better.”

“A little smooches here and there never hurt anyone.”

“Now I’m worrying about you.”

She giggled, before continuing. “Just think about it. First guy tonight who hits on you, give him a chance.”

While you would have dismissed the thought immediately, there was something rather playful happening in the pit of your stomach. As if, for once in a long-time, you wanted to feel the puppy love of just casually flirting. Of grinning and laughing along with someone's advances and actually enjoying one these parties; rather than just sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart waiting for Kita to hopefully show.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

She sighed loudly, happy to have cracked you a little. Jisoo continued with a teasing grin on her face. “Oh right, I forgot. You’re a masochist.”

“I could’ve told ya that.” Another voice broke out, the familiar setter of two-tone hair taking the seat next to you. He picked at one of your french-fries, eating it with no preamble as Suna took the seat diagonal from you, next to Jisoo at the picnic table outside. 

For someone who spoke a lot of game about not being caught up with the twins, Suna tended to hang around Atsumu quite a bit.

“I am not a masochist.” You defended from Atsumu’s words, earning an eye-roll from the other female manager.

“Why else would you agree to manage a team with the twins?” Suna quipped before taking out his phone, probably scrolling through social media as well. Atsumu shrugged in agreement, a smirk on his face.

“Also, tell that to your love life.” Jisoo countered, playfully moving her lunch out of Atsumu’s reach before the setter could commandeer some of hers.

You quietly pushed the rest of your fries in his direction, appetite long gone on this overly humid day. Doing this sort of thing was actually quite natural with the twin, sharing food and hugs were a normal thing with your friend.

“It’s not that bad.” You argued.

“Wait, have ya ever dated before?” Atsumu asked.

“Have you?” You countered back, the setter was infamous for his many… romantic encounters. But the young man had yet to ever put a serious label on any of those instances, at least not to your knowledge.

He rolled his eyes in response, turning to Jisoo instead to continue.

“Come on senpai, not even a smooch?” She pushed.

You felt your face flush at having been called out, “Well....”

Atsumu turned his body toward you in his seat, his insufferably confident smirk back on, “I could help ya with that.”

You pushed away at his shoulder, “You say it like it’s a problem.”

“Ya savin’ it till ya get married or somethin’?” He asked, genuinely curious. Even Suna turned to you, looking up from his phone in interest.

You turned to Jisoo, the conversation taking a dangerous turn. If you said yes, their curiosity would definitely be spiked. And it was not like you could lie to them and say it was some random person in your class - you knew these boys for years, but they also knew you in kind. 

Yes or no?

The other manager did not even try to bail you out and your silence was already tantamount to an answer.

“Aww. How cute of ya, (L/N).” Atsumu chuckled, reaching to pat your head. You slapped it away before he got too close. For someone younger than you, he was quite the brat. Years of being friends long stripped away any formalities apparently.

“Looks like our heart-breaker manager is actually very sentimental.” Suna commented, a brow raised in your direction.

“Heart-breaker?” You questioned in genuine confusion.

“Come on, (L/N)-san.” Jisoo answered this time, “She’s had her heart set for so long, she hasn’t even seen the other boys she’s curved.”

“How is that possible when no one’s confessed to me?”

Jisoo laughed while Atsumu absently tapped his finger on the table, “Even I know that ain’t true, (L/N).”

“Whatever.” There was no reasoning with your underclassmen when they were this dead-set. No one had confessed to you before, right? At least none to your memory, they were just being instigators as usual?

“That doesn’t answer the question why ya sittin’ here single.” Atsumu stated.

“He obviously has feelings for you, but she’s too much of a wuss to confess.” Jisoo stated it plainly for you, then turned to look at Atsumu with an expectant face. “So it’s either because he hasn’t noticed, which I doubt, or he’s not looking for commitment.”

“Ah. And it’s someone we’ve known for years, huh?” Suna deduced, words come out slowly.

You straightened your back in surprise and shot warning looks toward both boys. This was getting too close, they were starting to put together pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t even willingly handed to them. And knowing these little shits, they were not going to let this go until they found out.

Atsumu inclined his head for you to continue while Suna’s eyes never left your own. Suna was smart all the time, but with being associated with the twins constantly, it was easy to forget that fact. And since the trio acted like idiots so often, you tended to forgo how truly analytical even the Atsumu was. 

This was not good - so not good. It probably would not take them long to deduce the person at this rate.

“I swear to the highest volleyball gods out there,” You spit out as your turned to the other manager, “I will fucking smite you off this planet if you say another word.”

Jisoo burst out laughing immediately, almost choking on her lunch as Atsumu grinned at your warning, the exact opposite response you wanted.

“Strong words ya got there.” He commented, body still angled toward yours in interest. “Looks like we hittin’ a lil too close to home?”

“Don’t even try it.” You responded back, turning away from his inquisitive eyes and back to your phone.

Needless to say, they didn’t listen.

Suna backed up in his seat, eyes glancing between you and the setter. “No commitment, huh?”

Meanwhile, Atsumu was rapid-firing questions. “Is it a second-year? Third-year? Is he on the volleyball team? Do we know ‘em personally?”

You smiled at his now peaked curiosity, the setter almost looking like a small puppy waiting for a treat. But you refused to answer, no doubt sure that they would tell the captain the moment they found out the truth. You turned to Jisoo, who was smiling away at Atsumu, but otherwise sat thankfully quiet.

Atsumu was firing off specific names now, hoping to get any response from you.

“The bastard’s gotta be on the team.”

“Bastard?” Jisoo laughed at the nickname.

“Shut up, Atsumu.” You countered, attempting to poke harshly at his forehead to stop. But he just grabbed the hand in one of his own, holding it in his lap as he continued to spit out names.

“Is it Aran?”

“Will you stop?”

“‘Samu?”

“I will murder you in cold blood.”

“... Is it me?”

You tried your best to pull your hand away, now realizing his tightening hold on against the skin of your hand. How long had you been sitting there holding hands? You felt a natural rosiness rise to your cheeks, not really because of the recipient, but because you were doing so in public with some guy.

Instead, you poked the setter’s side roughly, earning a deep groan, but freeing your hand in the process. Packing up your belongings, you stepped out of the picnic table and stated, “Lunch is almost over, we should get to class.”

You walked away with a small wave, the boys turning to the now only female occupant of the lunch-table.

“So…”

“Nu-uh.” Jisoo cut off Atsumu, moving to leave the table before she accidentally said anything.

“Throw a man a bone here! Or at least help him bone.” Atsumu murmured that last part under his breath, “Ya don’t even have to verbally confirm it - is it me?”

Jisoo paused as she stood, books in hand already. The look she threw him was mischievous, but otherwise she left in silence.

Unfortunately for you, all you were thinking about during class was that conversation you just had. Kita sat on your right in your next few classes, the mild Ōmimi behind the both of you. The last thing you needed was to linger on their teasing words of smooches and marriage. You couldn’t confess your feelings, imagining anything else?? You could only imagine the bright blush at the simple thought of it.

And apparently, you hadn’t hidden it well.

“Something wrong?”

There were still a couple more minutes until the teacher would return. And so you were sitting in the classroom with Kita alongside you, other students milling around the room. He was so damn good at reading people and you cursed that he was using it against you now.

“Just thinking about some stuff Jisoo said at lunch.” You tried to wave off.

“You’re blushing.” Kita stated bluntly, putting his book down as he spoke to you. 

He was never one to sugar-coat his words.

“Am I?” You put your palms to your cheeks, as if to feel the heat. There was no point in trying to lie to him. “She was teasing me about boys.”

“Oh. Are you dating anyone?” Kita asked.

God, this was awful. 

There was nothing worse than your crush asking about your crush.

“No, not yet.” You shook your head negatively, turning towards the window on your left, at least trying to hide your expression.

“Yet? Are you looking to date soon?”

You wanted to scream.

“Um, not in the near future.” You tried to deflect, “But it could happen!”

“Of course.” He smiled, “I packed extra onigiri for lunch, but I couldn’t find you. I’m not sure if you still want it.”

“Ah, I would love to! If I’m not imposing, then yes.”

Kita shook his head, “I packed it for you.”

“You’re so sweet sometimes.” You said honestly, taking it and munching down.

“You usually either forget your lunch or eat junk.” He stated plainly, making you suddenly blanch at his cold-words. I mean, he wasn’t exactly wrong either. You thought back to the lunch you had today, literally just water and french fries that you ended up giving to Atsumu.

“Ha, well.” You trailed off before settling on, “Thanks for always taking care of me.”

Kita’s small grin widened as he looked you in the eyes, “It’s my pleasure.”

When he said things like that, it easily set your heart aflame. It was so simple, such small interactions that you would have to squint hard to find anything underlying in his words. But you wanted to. You wanted to feel needed and also give to the captain as well.

The blush you had earlier was probably nothing in comparison to how you looked now, you were sure. And, with Kita being the ever smart cookie he was, there was no doubt that he spied your inflamed reaction.

Was that conversation over? Was he expecting a response?

Maybe the volleyball god’s did have mercy on your poor soul, since your teacher walked in then and thankfully brought your conversation to a halt. You tried not to outwardly seem relieved, turning to the front and taking out your notebooks.

Your mind wandered in and out of the lecture. There were moments that your gaze just happened to meander over to the captain to your right. It was one thing to suddenly notice you were staring at him, but another thing entirely to be caught in the action. Kita would usually just smile at you kindly, before nudging his chin toward the front of the room toward the teacher.

Even later during volleyball practice, your eyes would casually dawdle over to where the captain was standing. Whether he was watching the team with careful eyes or participating himself in practicing spikes, your eyes usually just found him.

But today was not the day to let down your guard.

Atsumu and Suna were paying careful attention to you. And now it was no secret where your gaze was pointed to. Suna smirked when he realized, but Atsumu clicked his tongue and mentally filed it away for later. Jisoo once snapped playful fingers in front of your face, grabbing your attention to flip the scoreboard.

When it was finally time to clean, Kita helped you collect the left-over volleyballs and roll the hammock into the proper storage room. You did so carefully, making sure not to accidentally touch his skin lest he back off from the motion. But the kind, neutral expression he shot you went straight to your heart.

“Let’s get the scoreboard next.” He instructed, the both of you moving to opposite sides of the wheeled board.

And you would have, if Atsumu had not thrown a casual arm across the captain’s shoulders.

“Hey, do ya mind helpin’ ‘Samu over there?” He motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to his twin who was not looking at all.

Slightly suspicious, Kita did as asked anyway and went with the grey-headed twin to mop the floors.

“What was that about?” You asked as Atsumu pushed the scoreboard along with you.

It was only when you entered the storage room alone that he replied, “So Mister No Gaps Kita Shinsuke, huh?”

“What?!” You fought the inward need to slap yourself, high voice and exclamation enough to show that he was right on the money. “You asshole, how do you know that?”

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me that.” He emphasized, gesturing at your eyes with two fingers. “Ya kept starin’ at ‘em the entire practice.”

You huffed frowning, “That obvious, huh?”

“Yea, he probably knows too - especially if Suna and I figured this shit out.”

That didn’t help at all.

“Great.” You leaned against the nearby wall and put a palm to your forehead.

Atsumu crossed his arms, “So why haven’t ya confessed to ‘em yet?”

You scoffed and shot him a flat-expression, “Because he doesn’t like me back?”

“What? He said that to ya?”

“Well, no.” You hesitated, but explained. “I mean, he definitely knows I have feelings. And Shinsuke has never been one to beat around the bush. If he hasn’t addressed it, it’s probably because he doesn’t want to make it awkward…  since he doesn't feel the same.”

“I think you’re a dumbass.” Atsumu stated back, sighing heavily. “Kita don’t think like that and we both know it.”

“Why else would he be waiting it out?” You asked, “This is the same Kita that told us he doesn’t understand how people feel nervous.”

“Jesus, (F/N). He was talkin’ about volleyball.” Atsumu groaned, raking one of his hands through his piss-blonde hair. “Kita’s human too. Maybe he’s not sure how ya would respond for the same reasons.”

“I don’t know if love advice from the school’s resident fuck-boy is a good idea.” You jabbed instead, a playful smile on your face.

Atsumu put a mock-offended hand on his chest, a smirk finding a way on his face before he squashed it down seriously. He took a step toward you until you were less than an arms’ length-apart, “Fine, have it your way. Stew in silence until he finds someone else.”

That struck a silent chord in you.

“Honestly, that was kind of the plan these past few years.” You admitted, turning your head toward the ground. “If he could find his true happiness with someone else, then I would be happy for him.”

Atsumu must have detected your seriousness, since he hesitated to say his next few words. “Don’ be like that. Stop bein’ an idiot - he likes you.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, (L/N).” Atsumu levelled with you, “Ya standin’ here like ya ain’t the only girl he’s ever withstood.”

“Wow, what a feat.” You muttered as you sighed.

“Fine, if ya don’t believe that. Aren’t ya’ll best friends anyway?” Atsumu asked, “I’m sure he’d do anythin’ to keep you close.”

You hesitated, but agreed. Your relationship, no matter if he reciprocated your feelings or not, you were best friends. But if he didn’t feel the same and you said something? Would there ever be recovering from something like that?

Atsumu drew you out of your thoughts before he lost you further to your over-thinking, “You’re a real catch. Anybody would be lucky to have ya.”

“Oh?” You shot a withered smile at him.

“And I’m not just sayin’ that to put the moves on ya.” Atsumu joked, earning a light punch to his shoulder as you walked past him to leave.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said before turning back towards him, remembering to say. “None of this leaves this room. You hear that?”

“Yes ma’am.” He mock-saluted, a second later a loud ahem ringing through the room.

You tensed up and turned toward the door, seeing a blank-faced Shinsuke standing in the open doorway. Atsumu was always surprised, albeit much less worried than you were. Was your secret finally out?

“Am I interrupting something?” He asked, before you pushed shouted a loud No! and brushed past him back into the gymnasium.

Atsumu tried to casually exit the room as well, before his captain’s voice rang-out again, “Care to explain what that was about?” 

The setter had two options here: either brush it off or fan the flames that he knew for a fact was there. You were the obvious party, openly staring at the captain like your eyes belonged on him. But Atsumu knew that those feelings were not as unrequited as you thought. 

He remembered some club-room talk not that long ago. It was normal for the guys to discuss their preferences, something that Atsumu was rather vocal about on multiple occasions. Aran was just looking for someone he could cook while Ōmimi stated he liked girls who were generally very kind. Osamu preferred someone who was a bit meeker while Atsumu loved ‘em vocal, even bratty to the point of talking back.

“Of course, you would.” Suna commented as he dressed.

“What the fuck do ya mean by that?” The setter bit out.

“As in the fuckboy thinks he’s a girl tamer.” Suna snarkily replied.

“Well, when a girl has a mouth on her. I want to put it to good use.” Atsumu said with a smirk, earning a loose towel to the head, one that Osamu had just launched from across the room. Aran sighed and grabbed it before Atsumu could whip it back. Kita nodded toward his counterpart in quiet thanks.

Many of the others were still dressing after practice this day, it would be annoying to have to break up another fight between the twins then.

“Can ya be less of an asshole?” The grey-headed twin asked.

“Wha? I’m speakin’ the truth!” Atsumu defended, “Not every girl is like that anyway.”

“And who would the infamous Ratsumu have his eyes on?” Suna asked, genuinely curious but not missing the chance to poke at the setter.

Atsumu frowned, but continued anyway. “No one, right now. But I still got eyes, ya know. Ya can’t tell me our manager ain’t a cutie.”

“She would rather hand you a new asshole than ever date you.” Suna said, to which Akagi laughed.

“Careful, ‘Tsamu.” Osamu playfully warned, “People might think ya like (L/N)-san.”

“What can I say, she’s single and hot as fuck.” Atsumu replied off-handedly. 

It was a plain statement, but you could almost physically feel the temperature change in the club-room. Aran was glancing between the captain while the rest wondered why it was suddenly dead silent.

Osamu wondered if his prayers had been heard and he would soon be an only child.

“I suggest not saying that again.” Kita stated over his shoulder as he buttoned up the rest of his shirt.

That was a clear enough warning to everyone in the room that you were off limits. Suna had remembered this instance as well, in the present day reminding Atsumu after lunch not to push any buttons. It was clear then that Kita had no tolerance to any shit he was going to pull and now the pining was mutual on both your ends. Suna reminded him again and again during class to just let you and Kita sort your feelings naturally.

Pfft.

Was Atsumu going to be a little shit and try to sew some discord?

Hell yes.

“What can I say?” Atsumu feigned being casual, even shrugging as he exited the quiet storage room. “A pretty girl and a young guy enter a closet alone together, you know the rest.”

The glare he felt on his neck could have been enough to snap it with this much pressure. But, Atsumu digressed. He was doing the both of you a favor anyway, pushing you together when you both already had feelings for one another (albeit with some mind games interspersed).

Atsumu almost laughed when Kita grabbed your hand when the two of you walked home together. 

Kita knew what the setter was doing. What buttons he was trying to push, what he was trying to imply with you. The captain knew it all and he was still getting pissed off.

True to everyone’s assumptions, Kita knew about your feelings for him. The extent and duration, that he was not sure of. But he knew that you have thought about him in a romantic light for quite some time. Lingered looks and purposeful touches, on both your ends, was not something he could easily ignore.

What made Kita wonder was why you hadn’t said anything at all?

You were often pretty straight-forward as well. Not exactly in terms of romance, but you when were interested in something you tended to speak your mind. Whether it be a new show, some shounen anime you were following along with, you always shared it with him.

And for that fact he was always grateful.

Many of the others your age tended to be warded off by his way of thinking, branding him too mature or even too cold at times. To think that even the sarcastic Suna had nicknamed him as a robot, it was interesting to see that was how most people saw him.

But you didn’t.

Or at least, you saw passed his cold exterior and were just a freely-spoken with your mind. Kita’s blunt way of speaking had casualties sometimes, but you usually voiced if his blunt speech was too much. There were times that, if you were inadvertently hurt by his words, you would say it out-loud.

He remembered the last time this happened, not even a month ago. The two of you were hanging out under the shade of a tree, about to go out to a team hangout when you exited your back porch wearing a blue sundress. It flirted high above your knees and showed off the creamy legs of yours that he loved to trail his eyes over.

You looked breath-taking.

And so he said:

“Is there an occasion I’m missing today? I thought we were just going out with the team.”

The disappointed look on your face was immediate and it did not take a genius to figure those were the wrong words to say. But what he was not sure is where it went wrong. Logically, it made sense. You were going to walk at least two miles to the train and then from there a mile to the arcade. And most of that time you would all be standing. Would you even be comfortable doing all this walking in sandals?

But you didn’t get offended or draw away from him from these smaller misunderstandings.

You were always ready to knock some sense into him if need be.

“Not even a compliment on how I look? How mean.” You said with a frown, “I tried a bit more because I don’t usually get the chance to.”

“I know, but I want you to be comfortable considering the walks today.” Kita lightly grabbed your elbow as he stepped closer, “Besides, you always look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing.”

Your blush was palpable, Kita was almost sure he could fry an egg on your forehead, if the redness was any indication of temperature. 

“Let’s save this dress for another occasion. Preferably where only I see these.” He glanced down to indicate your legs, to which you sputtered and allowed him to guide you back inside the house.

And instead, he picked a pair of light-colored shorts and a loose summer-blouse. Kita knew you had a pair of black-and-white sneakers that would go with it anyway. You commented how it was almost scary that Kita knew your wardrobe, but he stated it simply:

I like what you wear. And I think it looks very agreeable on you.

It was simple and he stated it thusly. And from your reaction, it seemed as if it had made your day. From the beaming smile on your face to the new skip in your step, it was clear to him that he had amended the situation properly with your guidance.

But he still had the same issue: Kita thought he was being clear as day.

There was no one else he was spending time with like this. No one else whom Kita was expressing interest in like he was with you. From sharing ice-cream to hangouts alone with just the two of you, he thought his way of flirting with you was obvious? His actions alone should have been clear that he was showing his own interest in you.

And so if Kita was being clear with his feelings, why hadn’t you said anything?

This was not something he could just say and retract, either. The last thing he wanted to do was put your entire friendship on the line just to lose you. What if you actually did not feel the same way? But from your constant blushing and obvious gaze on him, you liked him too? But why hadn’t you said anything? Were you expecting him too?

He almost groaned aloud at this line of thinking.

Nothing had him flustered quite like you. Kita was confident both in school and on the court, a sure faith that no matter where it was. It was not a baseless arrogance, but more like a calm trust that he knew what he was doing was right.

And yet…

When it came to you, that brand of confidence simply withered away. Not always a bad thing, you often caught him off-guard with your own kindness and rarely did you ever truly fight. But there were times that he sorely wished he knew what was going on in that head of yours.

Like why hadn’t you said anything to him regarding this tension?

Or better yet, why the hell were you whispering with Atsumu in the gym closet?

The setter knew all about your being off-limits. Kita made it very clear that day and it seemed even then, the message did not totally receive in the asshole's mind. Or rather, it probably did, Atsumu just decided to ignore it.

And so on your shared walk home after practice, Kita gently grabbed your hand and did not let go. You almost jumped in surprise alongside him. Not that you hadn’t held hands before, but it was usually called for in the context. Navigating one of the twin’s parties, through a crowded group, or just to guide you somewhere.

But never had he held your hand for no reason.

Kita just smiled, hoping this would send a clear enough message to both you and the meddlesome boys behind you.

Meanwhile, Atsumu had to stop himself from cackling aloud. Osamu was ready to question his brother over what the hell was that about, but Suna assured him that it was best not to get involved at this rate. Aran simply sighed, but waved goodbye and goodnight to the rest of the team.

Your smile was a mask to your inward screaming, only to be silenced to a blank void. Your mind was comparable to that picture of spilled milk - the only thing inside as if the very act was an enigma. You had no idea what to say, what to do in this situation as you both continued to walk along.

For someone who was an athlete, the skin of his hand was surprisingly soft as it encased your own. You felt your hand unconsciously squeeze his and feared that the act would have him pulling away, as if waking him up from his act. But Kita squeezed back, a fond expression reflected back at you.

The two of you walked home together whenever you had the chance, unless called for by other duties. So this was usually normal for the two of you. Conversation was just easy, ranging from school or recent events, and even if one-sided you had no issues with simply speaking to the captain. And yet today…

Kita and you were both completely silent.

You couldn’t even tell if something else was on his mind, a neutral look on his face as he looked ahead. Was this action to show that he was reciprocating your feelings? You hated being unsure like this, but there was too much vulnerability to simply lay-out what you wanted to say.

Even on the train, Kita sat next to you quietly but still held your hand over his knee. You watched the action, before trying to level your breathing as to not freak out. But Kita kept going about his day, even taking out his phone to check a few texts with the other hand.

It was meant to show this was entirely on purpose.

Only when your house popped into view during something conspiratory popped into your mind - Did one of the boys tell him?

You felt the small seed of hope grow further. Was it just a coincidence that the day Suna and Atsumu found out about your secret was the same day, after literal years, that Kita found out as well? And that maybe if he knew now, was he reciprocating in some way?

You moved to glance at him in the corner of your eye, but he was already looking at you.

The both of you stopped short of the gate, but you hesitated for a second to say anything. There was so much on your mind and stewing in silence was the exact opposite thing you wanted to do. Before you could even think of words to say, your captain made the first move again.

Kita tenderly reached for your other hand, holding both in his much larger ones. He brought them up together and shot you a gentle smile, “(F/N), your hands are so soft.”

It came out like word vomit.

“I like you, Kita!”

SHIT.

Maybe you read him wrong?? If he was going to make a move, why was he looking at you so surprised??

“And here I was, wanting to say something first.” Kita said as he chuckled lightly, his hands gliding the rest of the way up your arms. “I like you, too.”

You didn’t even have time to overthink, Kita wasting no time and pulling you towards him. Quickly raising your hands to his chest, you steadied yourself against him as he held you in the close embrace. His smile was almost blinding - not from the size, but rather the genuine feel behind it.

Your hands slid upwards, folding behind his neck as your faces drew closer together. One of his hands gently carded in your hair, lightly guiding you to him. You closed your eyes in silent anticipation, long awaited joining finally happening with only stars as your audience.

The skin of his lips slotted gently against yours and you silently relished the feel of the prolonged peck. You pulled him closer, silently nudging him to go the step further. Kita smiled in response, making you beam right back at him. It was honestly hard to deepen the kiss further, expressions pulled from your shared grins. You were two idiots smiling at one another, foreheads pressed together as you struggled to deepen your impassioned kiss.

“I’ve waited so long to hold you like this.” Kita whispered against your lips, one of his hands resting around your waist.

“Me too.” You replied in a low vice, eyes still closed as you just felt him.

He watched your cute expression, from your rosy appearance to the way you deliciously leaned your body into him. Kita felt his eyes shutter closed, savoring the feeling of you two finally joined. You moved together in tandem, softly at first, and then with a swift intensity that made you cling to him even further - as if Kita was the only solid thing in this suddenly swaying world.

The world was constantly moving, either too fast or too slow or too much at times. Until finally, in Kita’s arms, it finally felt right.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time.” You confessed.

“I know.” Kita responded simply, “Me too.”

You almost wanted to laugh, but withheld it from possibly breaking the atmosphere. “Is it really that simple?”

“Yes.” Kita said as he smiled, moving to place a light kiss on your forehead. “I was honestly… afraid to say anything in fear of your response. But now we are both aware, right?”

You grinned back and stretched on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, “Yes.”

“That’s it then.” Kita stated as he leaned his forehead back against yours, “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

You whispered back, “Sounds like a deal.”

His insistent mouth parted your eager lips, sending wild tremors crawling up your spine, evoking sensations you had never known you were even capable of feeling. And as the swimming giddiness spun you round and round, you steadied yourself to kiss him back just as passionately. With a swipe of his tongue against the crease of your lips, you parted your mouth eagerly.

There was no battle, no insistent fight between your two appendages. There was only Kita, eagerly roaming around your mouth as you sensually rubbed tongues. You openly moaned at the feeling, not even noticing the noise until Kita was smiling in response.

You blushed at the realization, but Kita only complimented the sound. “Make that noise again for me.”

Your smile dropped to a more sultry smirk.

“You’ll have to earn it.”

Kita felt his eyes comically widen before dropping to a half-lid, “Oh?”

“My parents aren’t home…”

“Oh.”

Kita placed a kiss on your forehead just to lean away, one of his hands dropping to grab your own. You hurried along with his pace, suddenly breaking out into a faster walk in the direction of your home.

“Let’s make up for lost time, shall we?”

BONUS:

“No way.” Jisoo commented on the sight before her, nudging Atsumu standing next to her. The twin’s party was ravaging around them, but there was an unlikely and yet very likely couple that had just walked through the door. And while it was normal to see the two of them together, it was the first official time as an exclusive couple.

Walking in was Kita and you, hands clasped together like this was oh so natural.

Akagi greeted the both of you with a smile while Aran waved you guys over to the living, where many of the other team members were playing a game. Kita guided you through the party, joined hands proudly on display for all party goers.

Atsumu held out a hand in Jisoo direction’s, causing her to frown but nonetheless place some lost yen in his open palm.

But seeing you smile and share a kiss openly with the captain, Jisoo didn’t exactly mind losing this bet.

---xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx---

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shy (one-shot)

Synopsys: She’s shy. He likes her. She likes him. But every time something gets between the ex-Winter Soldier and the cute lab rat that works with Stark. The team has had enough of the pining.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffffff

Warnings: swearing, as per usual, nothing else really. Just some cute lil fluff I wrote (also this is defo not my best work :D)

Word count: 3042

It was a seemingly ordinary day when the ex-Winter Soldier’s life changed forever.

        Bucky’d plopped down onto the sofa with a disgruntled sigh, making Steve smirk and divert his attention from the show on the TV to his friend.

        “You know, she likes you,” Steve said to Bucky as he sipped on his coffee giving him a side glance.

        Bucky just grumbled and crossed his arms, mind still reeling on the absolute failure that he had experienced earlier that day. It'd been a trainwreck of a mission. No lives lost, but he'd made an absolute fool of himself by making a few bad calls. “Who?”

        “Y/N.”

        “Yeah, as if,” he snorted. “I mean I know she likes me, but she likes everyone. There’s not a single mean bone in her body.”

        “No, I mean,” Steve huffed placing down the cup before he spilt some of it on himself, “she likes you. As in she might want to pursue a relationship with you.”

        Bucky was choking on his spit the second the word ‘relationship’ came out of his friend’s mouth. Y/N? Liked him? As in more than a friend? He’d be lying if he said that thought didn’t send him over the Moon, but it seemed like such a far reach, especially with the interactions they’d had, that he had to give Steve a glare, especially with how she didn’t even give a single sign she might be into him. 

       He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the expert on flirting and getting it on?”

        “Wow.” Steve put a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “That’s a low blow. I might’ve not had any game when I was skinny, but let me tell, you after the serum th-“

        “When was the last time you went on a date?” Bucky interrupted his rant.

        His friend broke the eye contact and paused, chewing on his bottom lip before deflecting. “Look that doesn’t matter.”

        Bucky rolled his eyes so much he feared they’d be permanently stuck like that.  

        “What matters is that she likes you, but she’s too shy to do anything about it,” Steve stated.

        “We had a pretty good conversation a couple of hours ago.” They did. If you take saying 'hello', an awkward wave and bashful smiles as a conversation, then yes, it was very successful.

        “Shy doesn’t always mean ‘incapable of holding a conversation’. Shy can mean not talking about how they’re feeling or how their day is because they think no one cares or would get annoyed with them,” Steve said looking over his mug.

        Bucky was baffled. “How – why – how could anyone think she’s annoying? She’s – she’s amazing!” But that’s when it hit him - Y/N never looked him in the eye, she always apologized for talking ‘too much’, and at any point in the conversation, she always diverted the attention away from her or her troubles.

        “So…” Bucky swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”

        Steve shrugged. “I think if you don’t, you’ll never know what it could lead to.”

        ***

        It was about an hour later after his enlightening chat with Steve that Bucky found himself walking towards where their resident lab rat usually stayed at when he heard muffled cursing.

        “Work, you absolute piece of shit!” Y/N exclaimed each word emphasized with a harsh hit against a machine’s side. “Top-notch technology my ass!”

        “Everything alright, doctor Y/L/N?” His voice was gruff as he interrupted her conversation with the computer. 

Not that Y/N would ever admit it, but usually just his presence alone set her body ablaze, but this time, it was a distraction and not a good one.

        “Just fucking peachy,” she grunted and slammed her hand against the computer with every uttered syllable.

        “Alright,” Bucky chuckled and entered the lab. “What did that poor computer do to you, since you seem so inclined to completely destroy it?”

        “For starters, it decided to shut down,” she growled at the computer, and if it was alive, it would hang its head in shame. “Then, when I rebooted it, the files were not lost, oh that I could live with, but they were corrupted. Meaning I do have them, but they’re useless, and that means I have to redo everything.”

        “You’d have to redo everything if the files were lost either way.” Bucky gave her a small smile, teasing the woman as she whined.

        “Yeah,” Y/N threw back her head. “But it wouldn’t be as humiliating. I mean, if they’re gone, they’re gone, but they aren’t!” She threw the screen a scowl. “The files are there, just sitting… and useless… just like me.”

        “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re useless." Bucky smirked at her, and she sighed.

        “Please, do tell what I’m of use here right now, right this moment.”

        “Company?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and that’s when Y/N realized how much she’d rattled on, how much of his precious world-saving time she’d taken up by a stupid mistake she made.

        “Sorry,” she muttered, shying away from Bucky’s gaze. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my crap.”

        “You don’t bore me. You could never.”

        He had that love-sick look on his face as she gave him a small smile, and her eyes dropped back to the ground. Not that Y/N ever noticed, but Sam never stopped teasing him about that fucking look. The one where his eyes glimmered like stars in the night sky, and his lips involuntarily lifted up in the corners. More than once Steve had to tell him to close his mouth or someone would slip on his drool. And each time, Bucky would slap his friend on the back of his head.

        “I’m not drooling,” he’d contest and go back to watching as Y/N moved around the lab, delicate fingers replacing whatever was fractured in his metal arm.

        “No, saliva just generally spills out of your mouth when she’s around.”

        Bucky would just grunt and say, ‘fuck off’. But he couldn’t help it really. 

        “Anyway." Y/N brought him out of the daydream. “Did you need anything? Is the arm acting up again?”

        Although she'd never think that Bucky had any feelings for her, there was some suspicion rising in her mind. Tony was the acting engineer, but on more than one occasion he had called her up and asked if she was available to take a look at Bucky's vibranium appendage.

        “Need some assistance, sweets,” the genius would mumble, and then when she would slip into work mode, he’d slyly exit the room and leave the two of them alone. And given how Tony knew, Y/N’s primary thing was chemistry and using the nanotech for cell regeneration, not engineering, it raised her suspicion level. Especially when the super-soldier came to her lab to have a check-up on days Tony was out specifically. 

        But she would never do anything about it. He could be standing at the altar with someone else in white walking towards him, and even then, Y/N, knowing it was her last chance, wouldn’t move a muscle to say what she felt. How could she when Bucky was the walking epitome of a Greek God while she tripped over her own feet while standing? For fuck’s sake, the man even fostered puppies in his spare time as if his day job wasn’t saving the world already how could her watching cells split in a petri dish match up to that?

        “Oh, uh,” he stammered fidgeting with his fingers. “No, I uh, actually came to ask you something. Nothing work or arm… related.”

        If Y/N’s heart wasn’t already beating out of her chest, she was pretty certain she’d vomit it up with the way he was looking at her. “Sure,” she whispered. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

        He twisted a ring on his flesh arm. She had gotten it for him two years ago during a game of ‘Secret Santa’, which Tony promptly had added her to the list. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside for being included, but then dread settled in. What the fuck do you get a bunch of superheroes that could afford literally anything they wanted? And then she’d pulled Bucky’s name from the tacky Santa’s hat.

        It wasn’t bad enough he was her crush, now she had to get him a gift he’d actually like, and she could barely hold a conversation with him that didn’t involve Avengers stuff. But from the looks of it, he had enjoyed the jewellery immensely, as any time he came over for whatever reason, he was wearing it. He liked it so much there was a lighter line of skin underneath the ring where the sun couldn’t get.

        But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Bucky just froze as Y/N stared at him with hopeful and inquisitive eyes. All the things he wanted to say and ask just vanished from his brain as if he’d been put back into that horrible machine that used to wipe his mind.

        “Buck?” Her voice was small as his mouth hung open like an idiot. But he didn’t even get a chance to collect himself when Bruce rushed in.

        “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Y/N I need you. There’s a problem with the cradle.”

        And that was her cue. With an apologetic smile, she pulled off her latex gloves and rushed out of the room, but not before leaning back in through the door. “Hopefully I should be done in two hours tops. Raincheck on that question?”

        Bucky shook his head. “You know what, it wasn’t that important anyway.”

        Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, hand reaching out to touch him, but he pushed past her and was gone, leaving the woman a bit stunned, and in all honesty - heartbroken.

***

        The rest of the day she spent in utter confusion, and Bucky in self-wallowing. Y/N couldn’t understand what had changed his mind so suddenly, what she’d done so wrong, and Bucky beat himself up the whole time about choking and running away. Which is why Steve was absolutely done with it.

        As Bucky sulked on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and the pop tarts he’d stolen from Thor’s stash, Steve with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Y/N in tow, all came into the room. 

        Seeing her lab coat swish behind her as she walked, Bucky slid down into the couch even more, as if the granite gray leather could absorb him and erase him from existence. God, how he wanted to be erased from existence. 

        “Hey, Y/N?” Tony drew everyone’s attention as he handed a coffee to her. “Would you mind taking a look at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s intercom system? She’s gotten a bit rusty here.”

        “Umm yeah.” She nodded, kinda confused as to why she'd have to do it, but Tony was her boss, so Y/N rarely asked him much. Unless something he said was absolutely dumb. “Mind getting me a ladder?”

        With a wink from Steve, Clint nodded. “Sure.”

        But instead of just him leaving, all of the Avengers slowly started to ‘disperse’ throughout the living-room, before bolting towards the hallway and telling the A.I. to shut everything down.

        “What’s going on?” Y/N asked looking around the common room, spotting the bright fiery hair of Natasha as she rushed out of the room, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to override the lock code and not let either of them out. “Why are the doors locked?”

        The smug smile she received from the assassin only infuriated Y/N more. “Tony!” she yelled through the glass, but the genius put hands over his ears and screamed back at her.

        “Not until he talks to you!”

        That’s when she felt someone towering over her from behind. 

Two beautiful Y/E/C eyes looked up at him as Y/N turned around, confusion swimming in her irises. Bucky almost swore he passed out just from that look alone. 

“Buck, what’s going on?"

        The second he’d seen the group walk in, he knew what was happening. He wanted to murder all of them. Rip them apart piece by piece, but not in front of Y/N. No. He’d do that in the middle of the night, blending into the shadows and delivering slow and painful deaths to all of the conspirators. 

        But at the same time, this was his chance. There was literally nowhere for either of them to run unless you counted jumping out through the window and the ninety-story drop, you’d face. Which seemed very appealing to him at that moment, but Steve’s words rang through his head – ‘You’ll never know what it could lead to.” And he hoped it would lead to something beautiful, so taking a deep breath, Bucky confessed.

        “Because I’m a coward…” he sighed, “and I can’t do it without someone telling me to.”

        “Why?”

        “I’m scared,” it came out as a whisper, and Y/N had to take a step back hurt flashing across her face thinking back to all of the times they’d spent together, while in truth Bucky’d been terrified of her.

        “Of me?”

        Instantly he shook his head seeing the pain on her features, and once more Bucky scolded himself. “No… of what your reaction might be.”

        “Buck, you know I would never judge you. You can always talk to me… about anything.”

        “Yes, but this will change things.”

        “How?”

        “I don’t know… that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to lose you.”

        “Never. You could tell me you’re hiding a body in the tub, and I would offer you my help to get rid of it.”

        And it was this firm statement that solidified his decision.

        “Would you maybe,” Bucky exhaled deeply not daring to turn and look at the team that was gawking at both of them like hawks pressed against the glass, the same team that had bolted shut every door and window to prevent either of theirs escapes, “would you maybe want to go out… with… me… on a date?”

        Y/N was stunned. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand went slack, and it would’ve smashed against the ground had Bucky not quickly stepped forward and caught it stepping to stand in front of her.

        “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, looking at the milk infused drink. It was a light beige colour with a white foamy swirl in the middle like a little vortex that was sucking him in. God did he hope it would pull him in and never let out after what he was going to say. “It’s just that… I really like you.” There. Now it was out there. “I really like you. And not the way a friend likes a friend. I like you in a way that I want to hold your hand when we walk out together. I want to buy you coffee in the mornings and wake you up with breakfast in the bed and smooth out the hair that’s fallen on your face…”

        She wasn’t breathing as with every single word said Bucky seemed to move closer. “I think I might be in love with you, Y/N…” his hand gently lifted and cupped her cheek.

        She just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, shallow breaths escaping into the air as her heart beat out of her chest in a manner, she thought it might hit Bucky directly in the stomach. 

        “Say something,” he pleaded, blue eyes searching for an answer in Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. “Please.”

        “I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back. And it wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same, not at all. In fact, when he had started his whole confession, she felt like she was about to pass out from all the love that invaded her body, but the thing is - Y/N has never been good with emotions. She never knew how to process them, how to give the correct answer and make people happy. She was shy, awkward and a recluse. And now she was supposed to come out of her safety shell. Which is why for the first time in her life, she expressed herself with her actions by leaning up, grasping onto the nape up Bucky’s neck and pulling their mouths together.

        When her lips touched his, Bucky knew there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to. He couldn’t help the giant smile that bloomed on his face, as he pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arm one around her waist, the other trailing up to settle between her shoulder blades, pushing their chests together, so impossibly close an ant couldn’t crawl between the two. 

        It became even more of a beautiful moment when Y/N’s own lips pulled up in a smile, breaking the kiss apart, but leaving them grinning and feeling dizzy from the happiness. 

        “Guess we needed a gentle nudge in the right direction,” Bucky gave out a small laugh, both palms securely resting on Y/N’s hips and bringing her closer.

        “I’d say it was more of a shove with a rifle at our backs,” she said, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders fingers skimming against his clavicles and making his breath stop halfway to his throat. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere… the two of us without a bunch of people watching our every move.” Her eyes flitted over to where the rest of the team stood behind the doors listening in on the two, and suddenly the heads of their teammates disappeared from the view, making Y/N and Bucky shake their heads.

        “Yeah,” he chuckled, squeezing her side. “That’s probably the best idea. You truly are a dream, aren’t ‘ya?”

        Y/N could only chuckle and hide her face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as her hold tightened around his middle, and he responded much the same by weaving his fingers in the hairs on the back of her neck and pulling her closer if that was even possible, burying his nose in the Y/H/C locks.

        “Don’t go all shy on me now.”

        “Can’t,” she mumbled back. “You make me turn into mush.”

        Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “A cute mush.”

        “Shut up!”

And he did by pulling her in for another searing kiss. God, how he loved his shy girl.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @strangersstranger​

A/N: have you ever hated your job so much so, that you can’t sleep, can’t eat and basically live in a well of anxiety? and not because of the work itself, but because of that ONE PERSON that makes it miserable? Cause I do. And I can’t wait to get away from it.

P.S. sorry for being so pessimistic, but it’s just a nightmare.

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :) P.S.S.S. if you wanna be added to a taglist, drop me a message :)

[ratonnhhaketon]

Still Breathing

Read on Ao3 | Next Chapter

Summary: Six months after the defeat of Thanos, the world is still in chaos. The threat of the Flag Smashers combined with the new headstrong Captain America means it's time for Valencia Zicari to help save the world one more time. But, in doing so, she also has to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship.

Warnings: Major TFATWS spoilers, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Slow-Burn, John Walker (just in general)

A/N: HHH, new fic time! TFATWS has been consuming my brain these past few weeks and it was only a matter of time before I made another oc and wrote for Bucky. I’ve had this in the works since the first episode but I’m super excited to finally be ready to start posting! This fic will be relatively short but I do also plan on doing a prequel fic eventually to further flush out my marvel oc, Valencia Zicari. I apologize that this starts off kinda slow, with just two phone calls at the beginning, but it will pick up a lot in the upcoming chapters. In the meantime if you have any questions or comments about the fic or Val’s story, don’t hesitate to send them my way! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Your Number On Speed Dial

Bucky’s eyes shot open, his throat closing and lungs gasping for air. He felt the sweat covering his body, the thin blanket tangled between his legs. The cool metal of his dog tags swung against his chest as he sat up, chest heaving as he sucked in breaths and tried to regain his breathing. He looked around his surroundings, slowly calming down as he noticed he was in his apartment. 

Another goddamn nightmare. 

Realizing he was alone, Bucky instinctively reached up onto the chair next to him for his cellphone. He flipped open the phone, eyes squinting to adjust to the light of the small screen in front of him. He noticed the time, 3:08 am. While he knew that she would more than likely still be up and wouldn’t mind talking, he felt guilty for instinctively reaching out for her this late. Still, he let his hand press accept and after only two rings he heard her familiar voice pick up. 

“Hi Buck,” she said with a smile, exhaustion evident in her voice.

“Hi,” he replied with a hoarse voice, sleep still clinging to his vocal chords. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” she said with a small laugh. “But, yeah. Probably. I’ve been working my ass off trying to get in contact with Fury and nothing is working.”

“Not even through the SHIELD lines?”

She sighed, a hand coming up to rub at her temples. “I’ve tried, but he’s ‘on vacation’ and is only taking messages if they’re life or death.” 

“I mean, shouldn’t he be able to make an exception for you? Given, y’know..”

“Unfortunately I lost the ‘you’re my adoptive daughter’ privilege when I decided to grow up and join the Avengers.” Bucky chuckled in response, his nightmare finally starting to fade from the back of his mind. “I’m just.. worried about Wanda. The whole situation still isn’t sitting right with me, especially since any information has been classified and no one at all can access it.”

“Val,” Bucky said quietly, his metal hand coming up to rub against the chain hanging around his neck. “When was the last time you took a break?” 

He heard an audible sigh over the phone and a pause before she spoke up. “Not since half of the world disappeared.” 

“Well, how about this. Thursday, you finally put all of that aside for a few hours and we can grab lunch. I’ll buy.” 

She thought it over for a moment, Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat in the few seconds it took before she spoke up. “Yeah, that sounds nice. We can go to that sushi place you used to take me to.” 

“Sounds perfect, doll. I’ll see you then. Now go get some rest.” 

“You too, old man.” 

~~~~~

Valencia stood in the common room of the compound, a scowl present on her face as she watched the tv. John Walker’s Good Morning America interview was playing at a low volume. She hadn’t even met the man yet and already hated him. Partly because of how he talked about Steve without knowing the first thing about him, and partly because every journalist in the state of New York had been contacting her in an attempt to interview her about the new Captain America. Pulling her eyes away from the screen, she noticed her phone vibrating to announce an incoming call. She answered, a smile tugging at her lips for the first time in the past day. “Hey Bucky.”

“Hi,” he said shortly. She could feel the anger in his voice. “Have you seen the news?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her scowl returning to her face. “Everyone has been bothering me about it for the past day. I had to tell Pepper that if one more reporter asked to take a statement from me I’d throw someone out of a window.”

“Jeez. Little harsh, don’t ya think?” 

“Probably,” she said with a small laugh. 

“Hey, have you talked to Sam recently?”

“Yeah, I was just talking to him earlier before you called. He was telling me about having to go to Munich today, something about the Flag Smashers? I don’t know, he didn’t really give me a lot of information.” 

“No, that's great. Thanks, doll. See you Thursday.” 

“Alright, Buck. See you then.” 

~~~~~

Any normal person would be astonished by the amount of trouble one person could get into in the span of 18 hours. But, in terms of being an Avenger, it’s just a normal Wednesday. Especially when it’s Sam and Bucky’s fault. But, Valencia still found a way to be freaking out when Pepper rushed into her room, shoving a phone into her face to announce that Bucky had a warrant out for his arrest. And had subsequently ended up in a Baltimore jail. 

In under an hour she had flown down to the city and found the facility Bucky was being held in. She pulled open the door to the jail, eyes quickly scanning the crowd of people before landing on Bucky’s literal partner in crime. 

She made a beeline straight for the dark haired man. “You want to explain to me what’s going on here, Sam Wilson?” Eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight line.

Upon seeing her he pushed himself out of his chair. “Val! How ya’ been? You been doing okay?”

“Oh cut the shit, Sam. You better have a good explanation for why I found out that Bucky not only had a warrant out for his arrest, but then ended up in a Baltimore jail leaving me to haul ass down here to figure out what in the hell is happening.” 

“First, I need you to calm down. Promise me you won’t freak out?” 

She glared at him. “Are you-” 

“Val,” he said in a stern tone. 

She let out a huff before nodding. “Alright, fine. I’m calm.”

“He helped me with that mission in Munich I told you about and then wanted to introduce me to someone in Baltimore. And he may have missed his therapy appointment in the process.”

“He missed-!” Val immediately yelled out, voice louder than anticipated, which drew the attention of the people around them. Sam put an arm around her shoulder and led the two of them over towards an unoccupied side of the room. “Sam, are you serious? He’s been doing so well! He put in so much effort to make sure he made the appointments and you let him go with you?”

“First of all, I told him repeatedly that I didn’t want him coming, but you know how stubborn he is.”

She let out a defeated sigh and dropped her hands to her sides. “So what do we do now?” 

“Well lucky for you they’re actually releasing him.” 

Before Val could reply she was cut off by the sound of heels clicking before a familiar voice spoke near them. “Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’s therapist. It’s good to see you again, Valencia.” 

Val gave her a smile. “Good to see you too, doc.”

“So nice to meet you. You two already know each other?”

“I took Bucky to the first few of his appointments to make sure that he would, y’know, actually go. But that was before..” she waved a hand in the air, “everything.” 

Sam nodded. “Well thank you, Dr. Raynor, for getting him out.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me.” 

From across the room a booming voice spoke up, instantly grabbing their attention. “Christina!” The three of them all turned in unison and were met with none other than the new Captain America himself, taking pictures with a bunch of fans. “It’s great to see you again.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know him?” Sam spoke up with a frustrated sigh. 

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.” 

“I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in.” Val watched as he approached the group, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. “Miss Zicari, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been trying to reach out for a formal introduction for several days now.”

“It’s Agent, actually. And unlike you I’ve had a lot of other pressing matters that required my attention.” 

“Right. Well, anyway. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.”

“What?”

“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?”

“Um,” John used both hands to gesture up towards himself. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up.” 

Val’s attention went from John to the sound of a metal door closing behind her. Her head turned towards the sound and she was met with none other than a familiar set of blue eyes side-eyeing the blonde man in front of her. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a half-smile as his head turned and saw hers. Almost instantly the token frown he wore at all times faded and turned into his own partial smile. She walked over to him, her arms finding their way around his neck subconsciously. “Hey, Buck,” she breathed as his arms wove around her middle, pulling their bodies flush together. 

“Hey to you too,” he said with a small laugh. “Pepper finally let you leave the compound?” 

She pulled away to look at him. “Less her letting me leave and more so her immediately getting me a flight and shoving me out the door when she found out you got arrested.”

“Alright lovebirds, break it up.” Dr. Raynor said from behind them. Val’s arms dropped to her side and before she had the chance to correct her, the woman spoke up again. “James, condition of your release, session now.” Bucky let out an audible groan, rolling his eyes slightly, to which Val couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “You too, Sam.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be out here with Val.”

“That wasn’t a request.” 

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket and noticed an incoming call. “Just go, I’ll be outside. I gotta take this anyway.” Val walked outside of the jailhouse, sliding a thumb across the screen to answer the call in the process. She partially paid attention to what Pepper was telling her as the new Captain America walked past her, obviously checking her out with a side-eye as she leaned against the chipped bricks. Her eyes narrowed at him as he turned to steal another glance her way before turning her eyes away and down the opposite side of the road. 

“Yeah, he’s okay… no, I don’t know the specifics of how it works out with the pardon... I’ll keep you updated, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be back any time soon. I kinda feel like I’ll be joining the idiots on whatever they plan on doing next… Alright, I will. Keep me updated on the whole Westview situation and tell Morgan to stop stealing the snacks from my room. Oh, haha. Take care, Pepper.”  

As she hung up the phone she saw the door next to her swing open with a visibly angry Sam walking out of it. Bucky trudged out a few seconds later, looking angry but more upset than the man in front of him. As the door started to close behind him he saw Val and walked over to her.

“Do you think Steve was wrong about me?” She could tell he was fighting back tears by the way his voice cracked at the end.

Her hands cupped his face. “Bucky, no, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

He looked away, not able to look her in the eye. After all the nights they spent together, her talking him down from a nightmare, reassuring him and chasing the negative thoughts away, he couldn’t admit that part of him still felt that same way. “It.. doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s making you this upset, then yes it does.” 

He let out a huff as her thumb began to lightly rub against the stubble on his cheek. “Sam shouldn’t have given up the shield.” 

“I know, Buck, I know. But there’s nothing we can do now, so let’s just try to figure out what’s happening with..” she lifted a hand from his face and used it to make vague gestures around them. “Everything right now.” 

The loud siren from a police cruiser halted their conversation, the sound making Val physically jump. She looked towards the source of the sound and scowled. This asshole again. “Gentlemen,” John’s eyes scanned Val’s figure quickly before adding, “and lady. Good to see you again.” Begrudgingly, she followed Sam and Bucky’s lead and walked towards the blonde haired man and his sidekick. “Look, if we divide ourselves we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you got?”

“Should she be hearing this?” John gestured to Val. 

She scoffed. “I’m on board now, so out with it.” 

“Alright. Well the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians that have been helping Karli move from place to place. They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe. We think that she's taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.”

“Well there’s been hundreds of those put up across the planet since The Blip,” Valencia interjected. “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” John shot back, annoyance prevalent in his voice.

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky spoke up, patience quickly being stretched thin.

“No, we don’t know, Bucky,” Walker’s voice rose dramatically. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. “Things are really tense for you, aren’t they Walker?” Val rested a gentle hand against Bucky’s chest, holding him back as a reminder not to do anything irrational- although she definitely wanted him to. 

Sam approached the super soldier, putting a hand in the air to further make him back off. “Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorizations you have to get. We're free agents. We're more.. flexible. So it wouldn't make sense for us to work with you.” 

The trio started to walk off before Walker stood up from the cruiser and spoke. “A word of advice, then.” The three of them turned to look at him once again. “Stay the hell out of my way.” 

Knowing that it wasn’t worth it to get a final word in, Sam put a hand on either of their shoulders and pushed them to keep walking away. Once they were a reasonable distance down the street, Val turned to Bucky and noticed he was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind, Buck?” she asked with a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. 

“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said “my people”...” he trailed off, still staring ahead. 

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant-” Sam tried to correct him before Bucky cut him off. 

“No, he meant HYDRA.” He paused for a moment, feet coming to a stop as he looked between the pair next to him. “HYDRA used to be my people.” 

“Bucky,” Val spoke up cautiously.”

Sam scoffed. “Not a chance.” 

“Walker doesn’t have any leads.” 

“I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia.” 

“Oh, you cannot be serious,” Val said as she dragged a tired hand over her face. 

“So you’re just gonna sit in a room with this guy?” 

Bucky hesitated for a moment, obviously not thinking about his idea that much ahead of time. “Y-yes.” 

Val sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Out of all your ideas, this has got to be the dumbest.” She looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go see Zemo.”

[rhysismydaddy]

An Artful Revenge pt. 6 (Feysand)

Part of the Damnation series. 

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

This is the last part of this fic! Gonna work on some asks next, then start the Nessian story (see the link above for details) 

~Feyre~

Men, in general, are beyond stupid.

I honestly don’t even know how the male population is still around.

I mean sure, they have their moments. Fire? Pretty cool. 

Maybe I should amend my statement: Men are stupid when it comes to women.

Because if Tamlin had any common sense, he would wonder why I drag myself into his office downtown, the day after I found out who he really is.

He’d wonder how I even found his posh little office, since he sure as hell never told me about it. (Answer: Rhysand). 

He’d wonder why I’m crying and having an emotional breakdown, but am still dressed in a lowcut dress with my hair done. (Answer: men are even stupider when it comes to a woman with exposed breasts). 

But he doesn’t.

He sees me stumbling toward him, a mess of tears and fluffy hair, and jumps to his feet, coming to my rescue.

His arms wrap around me miraculously at the same time my legs give out, and I fall into him dramatically. 

That was a little much, but what can I say? I was a theatre kid.

“Feyre,” he says calmly, stroking my hair like he didn’t insult me twenty-four hours ago. In fact, he’s acting like we didn’t even break up. “What’s wrong?”

I press my face in his shoulder, trying not to think about how wrong this feels, how wrong he smells. 

Rhysand smells like citrus and the sea and something so manly it makes my knees go weak for real. Tamlin smells like dirt and bad decisions. 

“You were right.” It’s something all men love to hear a woman say, even though it’s hardly ever true. “You were so right, Tamlin.”

He pulls back and runs a thumb over my cheek, swiping a tear away. 

His green eyes question mine, so calm and understanding compared to yesterday’s rage. His hands are gentle as they cradle my face, and I want them off off off.

“He’s a monster,” I wail, dredging up some more tears. Knowing there needs to be more of a concrete reason for my breakdown, I make some pretty seedy shit up. “He... killed his driver! Because he took a wrong turn!”

Gods, Feyre. Really?

I can practically see Rhysand rolling his eyes. He’d see through my lies in a second. 

Tamlin, however, bites the bait... more like he swallows the whole damn line.

He hugs me again, so tight my feet leave the floor, and I go limp against him, pressing all the soft parts of me against the hardness of his chest.

Don’t get me wrong, Tamlin’s attractive. Wide shoulders, surfer boy hair, tan skin, and green eyes that look like the deepest of emerald. 

But he also is a fucking asshole, and everything about him irritates me.

It’s crazy, I think as his hands slip lower on my back, that yesterday he called me a whore, and now he wants to sleep with me.

Prick.

“Tamlin,” I sigh against his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

I almost throw up at the little pet name, but I nod and act like he’s the greatest thing on this planet, the gods’ personal gift to all things women.

But then he kisses me, and I get tired of this little charade. 

I keep my eyes open as his warm lips meet mine, wanting to see his face as the needle sinks into his skin.

His eyes fly open, and he drops me to my feet roughly, a hand pressed against his neck. It’s too late, of course.

Whatever black market shit this is, it works fast. 

His legs give out, and I shove his shoulder so he lands in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. 

“Feyre,” he growls, no longer happy to see me, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I roll my eyes, because even the dumbest of men should be able to figure that out my now. 

You’d think he’d pass out or be too paralyzed to talk, but just like Rhysand promised me, the drugs have paralyzed him from the neck down but left him perfectly conscious. 

I want him to see exactly what I’m doing.

Straightening my dress, I saunter over to his desk, eyes scanning the messy papers and folders for what I want.

Three rings, the exact copy of Rhysand’s, sit in a glass box, the shining titanium making them look like treasure. And they are.

But they’ve been here fucking long enough. 

I try to open the box, but it’s locked, so I sigh and grab a paperweight, then smash it to bits.

“You do this, Feyre, and I’ll come after you.”

“Ooooh, scary,” I deadpan, completely writing him off in a way I know drives him crazy.

Glass flies everywhere, but I just grab the rings and put them on whatever fingers they’ll fit on. 

Yet another piece of evidence men are idiots: I was wearing Rhysand’s ring when I walked in here.

A small detail, sure, but when I took that ring from him yesterday in his car, I made a vow to never take it off.

It’s a little big, resting on my thumb, but it’s perfect. 

It means I’m his, and he’s mine.

“He might have Chicago, but I’ll make you’re life miserable!”

“You did that for two years,” I remind him with a smile.

Then I set the radio exactly like I’d been told to, turn back to Tamlin, punch him square in the jaw, and smile when I hear a crunch.

That wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I was tired of his threats. 

He howls in pain, and I know it makes me meaner than an adder, but I blow him a kiss and laugh as I walk out of his office. 

A sleek black sedan, driven by the very much alive Rolando (I’ve officially stopped thinking of him as Beefcakes), waits for me at the curb. I swing the door open and climb in, turning to Rhysand with a grin.

I hold up my hands victory. 

Rhysand smiles and laughs, relief and love and awe written across his beautiful features. 

He’s so fucking handsome, I can’t hold out anymore.

Muttering an apology to Rolando for what he’s about to witness, I sling myself across the leather seat and pretty much attack Rhysand. 

It might be the fact that I just drugged someone with illegal substances--my very first crime!--or maybe just how he looks when he’s happy. I don’t really care.

My hands are on his jaw, running down his chest, tangling in his hair. 

He lets out a surprised laugh as I paw at him, and I use the opportunity to sweep my tongue into his mouth, holding back a moan at the taste of him.

The car stops, but I sure as hell don’t.

Until Rhysand takes me shoulders in his hands, and gently pulls away. “Adrenaline junkie,” he accuses with a smile, pressing one last kiss to my cheek. 

I nod, because it’s probably true.

He gives me an amused look. “Then I can’t wait for what happens in twenty minutes.”

I stick my tongue out at him, ever the mature adult, and he smiles. Then he takes my hands, examines the rings, and takes the two that fit the worst.

He slips them on, and even though it’s a casual gesture, I almost break out into tears.

Too manly to cry like a baby, Rhysand just opens the door and walks out, taking my hand and pulling me with him.

Even though he looks calm and cool as a cucumber, I know he’s not exactly thrilled I’m here. We had our first real argument about me coming along for this part of the plan I’ve secretly begun to call Toppling Tamlin the Tool. 

I won, obviously.

He warned me time and time again about what I was going to witness today, but I don’t care. His revenge is his to take, but I want to be here for him. 

He’s been fighting for so long, completely alone. 

And no matter how it started, I fell for him. He isn’t alone anymore, and won’t be ever again, no matter how dangerous the situation is.

Hand in hand, we stroll into Leperchaun’s Luck, the last remaining Irish stronghold in Chicago.

When I asked why he’d let it remain all this time, Rhysand smiled that cruel smile and said, “Revenge is only worth it if it’s slow and painful.”

I’d shuddered, half in horror and half in excitement.

I know it’s horrible and beyond absurd, but what he does for a living doesn’t scare me. He explained the gory details last night, and I listened. And even though I was scared, it wasn’t of him.

It was for him.

He has enemies with rap sheets longer than my arm. 

The guy Rhysand blocks from buying Degas? Russian arms dealer!

But Chicago, he’d told me with a smile, is his. Someone would have to be suicidal to come after him here. So I guess I’ll just blow up his plane and never let him leave.

Sounds realistic.

I’d like to think it was my smile and charm that made him give in and let me tag along, but it was likely the fact that we aren’t in any super big dangerous. 

We walk through the empty bar and to the courtyard in the back, and it’s a little amusing how quickly the six men sitting around a poker table jump to their feet and start shouting questions. 

“What the fuck?” is the most popular. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” Rhysand greets smoothly, ever the gentleman. 

Someone behind us loads a gun, the sound making my eyes go wide. 

But it’s never fired.

Because all of a sudden, red dots are on every single chest besides mine and Rhysand’s. 

“Pull that trigger, McCallen, and all your friends die.”

They all look down and around at each other with huge, saucer-sized eyes. 

Not one to dally, Rhysand smiles and tells the group, “I just bought this establishment. Needless to say, you’re no longer welcome. In here, or Chicago. You have six hours to leave my city.”

‘Bought’ is a bit of a strong word. He hacked into Tamlin’s bank account and bankrupted him, forcing him to sell to the highest bidder. Guess who that was.

“Or what?” one asks, feeling brave.

Another dot makes its way to his chest.

Gods, how many snipers does Rhysand have?

“Or you’ll die, and your precious little daughter Lena will be an orphan.”

The man’s jaw sets, even as his face pales. 

Checking his watch with a casual gesture, Rhysand reminds, “Six hours and counting.”

Then he says, directly at the small box in the middle of the poker table, “That goes for you too, Tamlin.” 

Since he didn’t want to risk coming back to Chicago, much less his last property here, Tamlin had been keeping control of his men by listening to everything that happened in this place on a private radio frequency.

Which, somehow, Rhysand knew.

He’d told me the number, and I’d turned the radio in Tamlin’s office to it before leaving. The drugs haven’t left his system and won’t until later today, meaning he’s still lying limp in that chair, listening to every word.

“Leave before I lose my patience,” Rhysand growls, and the men take the warning and haul ass out of the building.

Turning to me, he smiles and asks, “Ready, Feyre darling?”

“Ready.”

We walk out of the restaurant again, pep definitely in our steps, then get back in the car. Rolando starts driving immediately, leaving the restaurant behind us.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” I answer immediately, grabbing the phone from him and hitting call.

"So violent,” he murmurs with a smirk, turning in his seat to watch as the explosives he’d placed there years ago during a mandatory “city inspection” finally came into use. 

The explanation I got on that one: “In case I got bored.”

Gods, he’s sexy.

The car rocks slightly as orange and blue and yellow flames race out of the building, leaving absolutely nothing behind. 

Even though the violent woman in me wants to keep watching, I look at Rhysand instead.

His eyes find mine, and he smiles softly. “It’s done. It’s over.”

I nod and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, linking our hands together. We both stare down at the rings. “It’s over.”

Tamlin will run back to wherever he’s been the past seven months, and since there’s absolutely nothing for him here, he won’t come back. 

Rhysand has complete control of the city again, his empire built brick by brick through hard work and rage. He’s gotten his revenge, taken everything from the man who left him with nothing. 

And he got me.

“Was that enough adrenaline for you, Feyre?” he asks, hitting a button to roll up the barrier between us and Rolando. 

Someone else, it seems, is an adrenaline junkie. 

Smiling, I slide down on the soft leather and lift an eyebrow. “Come find out.”

~Feyre, three months later~

Somehow, I feel nauseous, excited, and doomed all at once.

I don’t even know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

I’m so nervous, I might be sick. I’m so excited, I can hardly walk. I’m so unsure of myself, I might fail. 

Focusing on the one in the middle, I walk down the aisle between chairs, ignoring the people watching me and focusing on the destination.

I can feel his eyes on me, and just like the first day we met, I can hardly breathe. But I ignore the tingly feeling in my spine and focus on what I’m doing.

I walk up to the slightly lifted stage in the large auditorium and turn to my peers, smiling and feigning confidence. 

I’m presenting my senior project today. And even though I’m excited and nervous and doomed, I’m proud of it.

It turned out better than I expected, honestly. 

It took me forever to finish the painting aspect because I wasn’t quite satisfied until late last night. 

The paint’s interrupted and surrounded by photos I’ve collected this year.

Rhysand, covered in paint. Art from both Chicago’s museum and the private collection I visit almost every day. Random bits of architecture and the night sky and shots that just work. 

Up close, it’s a bit of a mess, but from a distance--particularly, the distance between me and Rhysand’s chair--it looks like three dancers, twirling and leaping under the night sky. 

My professor hugged me when she saw it. So did Rhysand.

No offense to Prof. Jones, but I enjoyed his a little more.

“This is called Starlight Dancers,” I tell the room, my voice surprisingly level. I’m glad for the bright lights, because I can’t see anyone’s actual face as I continue. “It’s a rendition of Degas’s work, Dancers in Blue, which is my favorite piece. I’ve also incorporated photographs of art and people who mean a lot to me. Like a lot of pieces from the Renaissance, it’s meant to be viewed at a distance.”

I keep talking, going through the difference elements and explaining how, essentially, it’s a celebration of painting and love.

More than once, my eyes are drawn to the photographs of Rhysand, and I find myself searching for him in the crowd. 

I also get a little distracted by the mass of sparkles adorning my ring finger.

We’ve been engaged for three days, eight hours, and a handful of minutes.

He proposed in the museum, right where we met. When I almost feinted at the site of the biggest diamond I’d ever seen and told him it was too much, he’d just laughed and said, “It was this or the painting behind you.”

Ridiculous, wonderful man. 

I know it’s fast to get married after less than five months together, but the scary truth is that I can’t imagine life without him.

I scan the crowd again, and it might be my imagination, but I think I see a pair of violet eyes watching me. 

And I could swear one winks at me.

~Rhysand~

I’m not supposed to be in here.

I’m not a professor, and I’m sure as shit not a student. 

But I snuck in anyway, ignoring the millions of things I actually need to be doing, because I want to support her. 

I don’t even know what she’s talking about--impressionism and romantic elements and different types of photography--but she’s so passionate and beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She has me completely wrapped around her finger, and it should probably scare me that I don’t even care.

Years and years of planning, and everything that’s happened in the past month still surprised me.

Not the part about running every last Irish bastard out of my city; that’d been set in stone. 

The part about me getting engaged.

Ironically, that’s the only part that makes me smile.

Sure, I sent Tamlin running for the hills with his ragged band of leprechauns, set his stronghold on fire, and finally have peace over what happened all those years ago. 

But even that pales in comparison to waking up next to the woman up on the stage.

She’s a bed hog and always puts her freezing feet on me as soon as I crawl next to her, but the way she smiles at me when she wakes up makes up for it.

Everything about her makes up for it, actually. 

She’s still absolutely crazy and wonderful and I now have paint splatters on more than a few of my suits, but being loved by her is like... standing in the sun after being locked in a cave. Or some other shitty metaphor.

The fucking point is, even though getting down on one knee in a museum and asking her to share her life with me is the last thing I expected to happen, I’m glad it did.

Because being with her gives me something I’d thought I’d lost ten years ago: happiness.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading! 

TAGS: @elorcan-trash​ @januarystears​ @emikadreams​ @alpha-omegas​ @joyceortiz13​ @sapphic-beauty​ @meowsekai​ @ahappyhistorianreader​ @courtofjurdan​ @acalypsot​ @acourtofsjmtrash​ @highladyofthesith @bookwormq702 @swankii-art-teacher​ @lunaroseperdomo​ @leaf-love-life​ @mari-highladyof-feels​ @raghad-50725​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @shinya-hiiragi​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @nahthanks​ @ghostlyrose2​ @lovemollywho​ @tillyrubes10 @claralady​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @thegoddessofyou​ @awesomelena555​  @booksofthemoon​ @greerlunna​ @jlinez​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[rpbetter]

PSA - Positivity

Yes, positivity is important. No, not all positivity is the same, and when we talk about “positivity” in the RPC, we need to be aware of that.

I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but a lot of the “positivity” around is performative positivity, passive positivity. It’s neither helpful nor all that positive. It’s just yelling about and pressuring for positivity, while expending no personal effort to give meaningful acts of any such thing. If you really give a shit about “spreading positivity,” uplifting mutuals and the community, you won’t balk at this. You’ll assess your behavior and try to do better.

Examples of some passive/performative positivity:

reblogging statements like “we NEED to get back into the habit of POSITIVITY” and adding tags or direct statements on the reblog that you “better see everyone reblogging this” and stopping there, with a demanding threat of, at least, shaming

copy-paste, especially anonymous, positivity chain messages (that frequently cite things contrary to the mun and/or muse’s characteristics/personality/writing)

reblogging the “I actually enjoy seeing this user on my dash” and/or “I actually like following this user” etc. style posts - it’s honestly not positive, you’re implying that you don’t like seeing, following, or interacting with some, and the overall tone of the post and action is once again shaming and demanding (not to mention, everyone else’s dash is nothing but this shit while 10+ mutuals wank over each other in this manner)

reblogging PSA’s about how to spread meaningful positivity, then doing none of it

sending an emoji meme in that denotes extremely simplistic ideas of what you like about the poster, leaving it at that

random posts of how much you love everyone, citing exactly nothing or the same handful of easy to throw out, applies to a large amount of people (or it doesn’t, but we all know everyone wants to feel like they write well, have interesting muses, etc. and it plays into this) - you sound like that drunken person every bar has that goes off about how much they LOVE EVERYONE SO MUCH, not like you’re actually encouraging anyone specifically

blowing smoke up people’s asses/using requests for concrit to do nothing but give useless ass-pats about how infinitely great they are in all areas of writing and portrayal

Examples of some meaningful positivity:

engaging with partners and mutuals on their posts - liking headcanons, commenting on answered memes, liking/commenting on OOC posts

getting specific about what you enjoy in their writing, their muse portrayals, threads, headcanons, instead of the copy-paste or emoji route

appreciating mutuals and partners in visible ways (like those stated above, sending ask memes, paying attention to what they post and their muses, showing them respect and interest as real human beings) regularly, without prompting or being guilted and shamed into it

being honest, but polite and respectful, when a mutual posts a meme requesting concrit/asking what you like about the muse or writing and what you’d encourage growth with

when sending an emoji meme in about why you follow, what you like, why you stayed etc. add something to it that is specific about why

responding to replies OOC (where applicable, not all partners mesh well enough for this or desire much OOC conversation), telling them not only that you got it and liked it, but what you specifically enjoyed the most in the reply

seriously, be specific when giving positivity, your partners and mutuals are individuals and deserve to be treated as such with receiving specific-to-them comments on their writing

generally, being respectful of others - the whole environment is far more positive when you read and respect rules, boundaries, and muses, even if that means respecting that you and another mun might not work out together

It’s a minimal effort to actually bother with paying attention to the people you interact with, to take the attention you’ve paid and apply it to meaningful, individual commentary and actions. If you cannot handle this, you have too many people to deal with in a respectful, adult way they deserve...or you may want to reassess whether you have the time, attention span, motivation, and are at the right mental space in your life to be in a hobby that requires interaction with other people.

Giving people lazy “positivity” so that you feel you’ve done what you need to in order to be A Good RPer isn’t positive. It’s kind of insulting, actually. If, IRL, someone told you and the five people nearest to you identical compliments, would overhearing this make you feel good about yourself? Positive? Visible as a person? It wouldn’t, no. So, don’t do it here.

Legitimate positivity doesn’t mean constantly forcing yourself out of your comfort zone OOC, either. Your social anxiety and social deficits aren’t a sufficient excuse; you and every other person here has these complications. I have those complications!

If you find yourself still vehemently pissed at me for saying that, may want to rant back at me about how ableist this is, here’s some things I, a person with social limitations, high distraction, and serious anxiety do:

commenting on comment-appropriate posts something specific ( “the freckle on your cat’s foot is so cute!” “I love how you addressed x in that headcanon” etc.) when I am in a good space to do so

liking posts - OOC posts, meme answers and muse questionnaires that were great whether I’m tagged/sent in the ask or not, PSA’s and resources I think are good

reblogging PSA’s, resources, and other things I know are important to the mun to have shared that I agree with

sending in ask memes, sometimes even just on anon to mutuals I don’t write with - everyone wants to be sent something, this is a great way to allow others to respond to questions no one else might ask them

anonymous, positive comments on their muse, writing, blog that are, again, specific in detail

trying to note when a mutual, even one I don’t interact with really, is clearly needing a boost in confidence or interest, being sure to send a meme or something else in to them when I can

being aware of my partners and mutuals so that I can send them, when the opportunity is present with memes or requests for asks, questions on topics I think they’d like an excuse to discuss (someone keeps posting images or commentary in tags about a muse’s pet, clothing interests, hobbies, mental health, whatever, but no one is biting, for example)

The majority of the above can be done without direct, consistent OOC conversation, and much of it can be done on anon. Sometimes, it makes people feel extra good to feel like they have a secret admirer, a mysterious mutual or partner who is paying attention and valuing their posts. It sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. Especially because so many of us have trouble with random, long, or consistent OOC discussions; sending them on anon means that the receiver doesn’t feel obligated to contact and converse with you.

Positivity’s point isn’t that it be done out of obligation, guilt, or shame. Neither is it to be done out of performative, passive, often enough even vaguely virtue-signaling, or clique-like, circular gushing about each other for an hour repetitively. It isn’t to make you feel like A Good Person, or to show the RPC that you are a model RPer, you care so deeply about the RPC that you...can’t be bothered to expend the personalized effort and pay attention to those on your dash.

If you really care about positivity in the RPC, you need to stop doing it in hollow, meaningless ways.

You need to stop demanding, threatening, and shaming others into performative actions with you. It’s not enough to say you care and do something lethargic to show it, you need to actually be bothered to be specific. And if someone doesn’t feel positive, isn’t interested in playing the reblog or chain letter or tag game, leave them the hell alone. They’re not being “negative,” and don’t need to be assaulted with pseudo-positivity. And you know what? Maybe they are being “negative” because it makes them feel positive, and if that’s the case, remove yourself if it bothers you!

Everyone has a right to be themselves and to do what works for them here, that is part of an overall air of positivity in the RPC.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Freak of Nature.”

A continuation from yesterday. I hope you all enjoy, and I hope you enjoy the setup for some other stories I am planning on doing :)

Have a good day!

Breaking News

The Galaxy is left stunned after the events of late yesterday evening, when a single armed shooter appeared from the crowd and fired on UNSC leader and cultural icon Admiral Vir during a routine press conference given at UNSC headquarters Fort Harmony on the eastern Mericandian coast. Reports describe the event as happening midway through Admiral Vir’s address as the single, hooded female pushed through the crowd and drew a handgun on the Admiral firing once before fleeing into the crowd. She was apprehended by armed security agents only moments later as she tried to flee the scene. On scene witnesses report that an accompanying marine tackled Admiral Vir to the ground just as the shot was fired.

 In a statement made early this morning by Admiral Vir  he reports that, “Thanks to the brave actions of Corporal Angel Ramirez I am alive and unharmed.” Corporal Angel Ramirez is a decorated veteren of the UNSC deep space division and served his first tour aboard the UNSC Enterprise on its maiden voyage. Since then he has served under Admiral Vir on both the UNSC Harbinger and most recently the Omen distinguishing himself in combat during the Burg war and the Kree engagement. Our sources report that Corporal Ramirez was once an up and coming champion in the Mericandian winter Olympic ice skating team before joining the marines. 

Reports say that the corporal came out of surgery early this morning and is in stable but critical condition. 

The only question remains is who would attempt an assasination on such a beloved cultural icon. More on that with our crime reporter Jim Shaw.

Thank you, Emily, early this morning we received reports from Fort harmony officials that the name and identity of the shooter is 37 year old Adrea Halen member of a traditionalist leaning moderate group the Hunt Party, who have condemned Admiral Vir in the past for his support of legalizing extrial relationships. President Hunt, leader of the hunt Party and CEO of Hunt Metals said in a statement today. “Our party had nothing to do with Ms. Halen’s actions, while we disagree with Admiral Vir on some fundamentals of government, we would never attempt to silence him through violence. At the end of the day Admiral Vir has done far more good than he has bad and no man deserves to die due to his political views. What Ms halen has done is condemnable, and the party does not support her actions.”

Further comment was withheld until a later date. As of yet police have been unable to determine if she acted alone or with the assistance of the group. Police chief Henry Winzer added in his statement today, “Ms. Halen has not, as of yet, divulged her motives behind the shooting, however based on preliminary evidence of the scene it seems as if these were the actions of a woman acting alone. Detectives have been unable to find any correspondence between her and a third party and even her husband had been out of the country for the past few months.”

Her motive remains, as of yet, unknown. There is evidence of a radicalized political view since she did attempt and target Admiral Vir, and some of her personal social media content has been leaked to the public reporting her dissatisfaction with going the GA and her open disgust for extrial activities especially in regards her oldest son who was in a relationship with a Finnari before moving to Noctropolis. We have since been unable to contact him.

In the past Admiral Vir has been known as a great political proponent in favor of extrial relationships, and a non isolationist view having once said that, “Cooperation and companionship with the GA will be the bedrock of human expansion into space.” With the popularity of Admiral Vir as a cultural Icon, it can be said that his political views have been influential on the younger upcoming generations of today, while the older populace still remains wary of political involvement with extraterrestrial life. In oth-

Adam shut off the TV sinking back into one of the stiff plastic chairs that adorned the hospital waiting room. His eyes felt grainy and dry, and his head ached dully behind his eyes. Off in the corner of the room much of Ramirez’s family lay asleep on the plastic chairs including his father and otters who had arrived late last night. They had fallen asleep after a nurse ventured in a few hours to go to let them know that he was stable and alive. Adam himself had not been able to sleep thinking about his friend, replaying the moment over and over in his head wondering if there was something he could have done to prevent all of this from happening. But the more he thought the more he realized that it was probably unlikely. He might have been able to dive out of the way himself before the shot was fired, but Ramirez was already in motion before that.

He couldn’t have seen it coming, no one could have, and no one did.

Ramirez had just been the fastest.

He sunk back into his chair miserably and stared at the wall. There were no windows in this room, the guard detail had insisted upon it incase someone else tried for his life. It all seemed so strange to him. Why would anyone want to kill him? 

He knew the answer though, as much as he wanted to think he was just some nobody, he wasn’t anymore. He was… a political figure, someone who could influence what happened in the galaxy and there were plenty of people who weren’t bound to agree with him on a lot of things.

He just wondered why he hadn’t seen this coming sooner.

His implant buzzed, and he looked down to see that his mother was calling. Whoopse, she wasn’t going to be happy that she was just hearing about this over the news, but he knew he needed to talk to her. He stood and made his way into the hallway, where a protection detail eyed him hawkishly.

Closing the door behind him, so as not to disturb its sleeping occupants, he answered the call, speaking out loud as the implants in his throat and ear picked up the sound, “Hey, mom.” 

“Adam! Adam are you alright! I just saw the news.”

“Yeah, yea I’m ok.” He took a deep breath, “Sorry I didn’t call. It’s just been kinda hectic.”

“And you’re sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I mean, I feel like shit but no bullet wounds….” he trailed off 

There was silence for a moment, ‘I’m so sorry sweetheart, how is Ramirez?”

“Doctor’s haven’t given us all the details yet, but he's at least alive and survived surgery.”

“Thank goodness…. We owe that boy.”

“I know, mom…. I know.”

Just then he heard voices off down the hall and turned to see Dr. kill and Dr Katie approaching from the wings.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, Ok?”

“Ok.” 

She let him go and he hung up as the two doctors approached.

“How is he!”

They motioned him into the room and he followed just as Ramirez’s family members were waking up.

Adam hovered near the door not entirely sure if he was supposed to be there. Ramirez’s mother sat up, “Is h ok!”

Dr. Kati and Dr Krill glanced at Adam. Adam realized with Dr. patient confidentiality, and it being family, he probably wasn’t supposed to be here. He went to step outside, but Ramirez’s abuela waved him back.

Ramirez an Dr Katie nodded.

The little alien stepped forward towards the family, “I have both good and bad news.”

The group waited with bated breath.

“THe good news is that your son made it through surgery. He is stable and recovering in the ICU.” he glanced over at Katie, “The bullet went in through his back, through his right kidney and perforated some of his lower bowl. We were able to fix the tears but the kidney…. Was not salvageable.”

The family glanced back and forth between each other, “That…. That’s not so bad though. He has two….”

Krill shifted slightly, “Well that is the remarkable thing and also the bad news but…. Your son only had one kidney. We wouldn’t have noticed it were it not for our imaging, but it seems he has lived with this defect his entire life without complication.”

Dr. Katie Cut in just then, “Since he was born with the defect, his body compensated. The kidney that was destroyed was much larger than average…” She trailed off 

The family members looked between each other, “So…. So what does this mean.”

“We have him on dialysis right now, and he is going to need a kidney transplant.” Dr. Katie folded her hands, “There are a few options, there is always the possibility of getting him a donor kidney or equally possible and more…. Advisable would be to have a kidney grown for him using his own stem cells, that way we can grow him one like the one he lost considering there is no way for us to give him two. If he were to get a donor kidney, he would have to undergo chronic gene therapy to avoid medications that would leave him immunocompromised. However in that case he would need to be medically discharged. If we were to grow him a new kidney, he would be able to return to his post without being discharged, but the cost is…. Admittedly much higher.”

The family glanced between each other their faces pulled into grimaces.

Adam knew their financial situation. He had heard stories about Ramirez growing up and knew enough to know that his family had never been well off. They had been close, his childhood had been excellent, but they had never been rich. Affording either of those options was going to be a stretch.

“Well we will have to talk about-”

“I’ll pay for it.”

The entire room turned to look at him.

“You-”

“I said I will pay for it. With the settlement for the court case, I can pay for it. He saved my life this is the least I can do, Please…”

His pleading was so plaintive that the family could hardly say no. He did have a point as well. Instead, he received an enthusiastic hug from Ramirez’s younger sister who clasped her arms around him and nearly snapped him in half with her strength. She was an olympic boxer after all, so he wasn’t surprised.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” She repeated.

Dr. Katie looked at him with a pointed expression, but she didn’t need to ask. He intended to pay for every last cent of Ramirez’s treatment even if he had to fight his abuela for it. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d win against her, but he would damn sure try if it meant doing something fo his friend.

He owed him after all.

And even if he didn’t Ramirez was his best friend. This wasn’t about owing him, this was about doing anything for someone he cared about.

Dr. Krill shifted in his place, “We will get the equipment ready and start later this week. I…. would be honored to perform the operation. I will be upfront with you and say that I am the universe's foremost surgeon, but I would also be the first Alien to perform a transplant”

“I of course, you saved his life last night-”

They seemed almost in shock. Everything was being paid for and the universe most renowned surgeon was practically begging to do it.

The only way this could have been better is if their son hadn’t been shot in the first place.

***

The steady beeping of the machine echoed around the room. Adam sat with one ankle crossed over a knee looking down at his implant and absently reading through that day’s news report as a soft whirring came from the machine just to his right. He wasn’ technically supposed to be here, but the doctors had made an exception for him and the family. On the other side of that a glass tube was busy growing an extra kidney. There was security outside the door and a doctor came in every few minutes to check on the kidney, and the man to which the kidney belonged.

Adam scrolled dow.

There was a shifting just to his side, and with relief Adam looked up to find Ramirez stirring. The man tried to open his eyes but squinted against the light and groaned raising one IV tethered hand to block the light.

Adam leaned over resting a hand on his arm, “Hey you’re finally awake.”

Ramirez cracked an eye at him and groaned.

“Come on ya freak wake up.”

Ramirez closed his eyes again, “Why…. When I wake up do I have to see your ugly ass.

Adam snorted, “How sweet, freak.”

“Freak, have you looked at yourself lately.”

“At least I was born with all my kidneys.”

Ramirez opened his eyes and frowned, “What?”

Adam smiled slightly, “Turns out your dumbass has lived his entire life with only one kidney. Congratulations, you are a freak of nature.”

“No shit, really? I had no idea.”

“We know, anyway the bullet sort of ruined it, so you have to get a new one. He pointed across the room to the glass tube and its slowly growing kidney which was no bigger than a jellybean right at that moment.”

Ramirez looked and frowned, “Ew, gross… wait who's paying for that,because I don’t think the military covers transplants.”

“It's taken care of.”

“By who.”

“By someone.”

“Someone who.”

“Someone who would rather remain unnamed.”

Ramirez looked at him,”It’s you isn't it.”

Adam sighed, “You saved my life, so shut up and let me buy you a new kidney. I owe you that much at least.”

“Fne, fine.”

There was a pause between them.

“I….. thank you, for saving my-”

“Dude don’t get all sappy and shit on me ok. You would have done it for me.” Adam went quiet still wishing to thank his friend but knowing Ramirez would never accept i.

Ramirez shifted to look at him, “So, you know why they tried to kill you?”

Adam shrugged, “Not really, the lady who did it has some political affiliations who don't tend to agree with me, but that connection doesn't seem to fit completely. Either that or she blames me for making her son an extrial in which case….. That hardly makes sense either.” he shrugged, “Either way she isn’t talking, and now I can’t go anywhere without five to six bodyguards spilling out my ass.”

Ramirez snorted, eyes closing, breathing deeply.

“You feeling ok.”

“Yeah…. I’m alright, just tired.”

“Then go back to sleep ya big idiot. Maybe if you’re a good boy santa will leave a kidney under your pillow.”

Ramirez let off a weak huff, “Didn’t know santa was a black market organ dealer.”

“He is this christmas, now shut up and go to sleep.” Ramirez didn’t argue with him beyond that point, and fell back asleep just as a nurse ws coming to check on him.

Adam was relieved. 

Ramirez was, hopefully, going to be ok.

Though what remained were far more questions than there were answers. 

[aceofspadegrass]

Testimony

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Niragi Suguru, Ann Rizuna, Last Boss, Arisu Ryohei, Usagi Yuzuha

Genre: Crack. It's just Y/N telling a story, but I, the writer, went off the wall and now you have the misfortune of figuring out who is who.

1.2k words

Remember when I was talking about writing a story that included none of the AIB characters names? Yeah, this is pretty much it. I didn't add all the characters, but then it would've just been a chore to decipher what I was even saying.

Yin sits down at the table, the officer in front of her nodding their head in greeting, Yin keeping a blank face as they fold their hands in front of them.

“ You are aware why you have been called in here for, correct?” Yin hums, kicking their feet idly. “ Well, kind of! I was a witness, and you want my statement, right?” The officer nods, Yin nodding and tapping their chin in thought. “ Well, I can describe it pretty well, but only problem is that I kind of don’t know any of the names of the parties it involves. Do you mind if I just described them instead?” The officer waves at them to continue in response, Yin grinning as if they were the cat that caught the cream. “ Okay! Strap in, this is gonna be a doozy.”

“ Alright. Remember that anything that you say will be recorded and documented for evidence.”

Yin nods, smiling and eyes twinkling.

“ So! Basically I was walking down the street, right? Minding my own business, bought a snack at the nearby shop, munching away. Gotta make sure to keep my energy up, you know? And suddenly I see what was basically a giraffe wearing a rather sketchy fedora running past me, apparently either training to become the next Olympic runner, or he got in trouble with his mom and she’s coming to smack him sideways to Tuesday evening on a Wednesday morning.

So I turn and watch this oil spill book it, and when I turn back around I see several other people. One was this really pretty lady with fashion that I thought I’d only see in Vogue and the strut that makes me think she’s like some goddess coming to talk to the manager only to point out how terrible they were treating the staff, and the other was like…. dad material. He looked like he belonged in an army or something but would also totally have unironically cried during a sad scene involving a kid in a movie, but at the moment I’m pretty sure beefcake over there was gonna bust a skull open like a weak watermelon. Probably the burnt coffee bean wearing guy. The swan queen probably could’ve annihilated him with just a fucking stare, I swear.

So anyways, they walk past me and I’m pretty sure I got hit with so much raw authoritative energy I could’ve taken over the prime minister or something just by politely asking, and I couldn’t help but be like….. curious.”

“ So you went ahead and followed them.”

“ So I went ahead and followed them! Did you know giraffes run at 37 miles per hour? Crazy, isn’t it! Well this guy was actually running pretty darn fast, but then he kind of tripped and ate shit on the sidewalk. Not like, literally, that’s a figure of speech, but like he went bonk on that sidewalk. I think he was okay though, but then the army general looking guy grabs him and kind of pins him to the ground, and the fancy fashion lady just stands there to the side like a disappointed secretary who is standing behind the boss and only makes you feel super fucking tiny in that situation.

So the raccoon man is screaming, with papa beef on top and reprimanding him, and I have noooo clue what was going on here. That is until some more people show up. There was this guy that I’m pretty sure looks like he belongs in some cheesy superhero cartoon with how much tattoos he had on without it being like…. a bunch of pictures that cumulated, but like one coherent design that took up his whole body, and a guy who looks like he rolled out of bed at 4 in the afternoon in a shopping cart. This girl wearing a windbreaker was pushing the cart, and she looked really disappointed for some reason, and I think she was disappointed at the chocolate rice krispie man.

Now, the puppy looking fellow was clutching a bunch of shirts, a box of crackers, and there was a pack of toilet paper at his feet, so I’m pretty sure that either they stole a shopping cart, or the raisin man made the rest of this squad have to run from a nearby supermarket to chase him down. Either way, there’s a man who looks like he hasn’t showered in weeks in a cart, a disappointed mom, a marble countertop if humanised, a second, more disappointed mom, a rooster, and a puddle of tar mud just there in front of me, with the latter being hung up on each other. The kangaroo was winning though, but kangaroos are fucking built like a wrestler, so even I wouldn’t fuck with that. So there’s yelling, there’s a lot confusion, and I’m kind of alone in this because other people were doing other shit and didn’t get to see whatever the heck was going down here.

So finally the black bean guy is allowed to get up and gets a pat down, so I guess he stole something? I dunno, but the crane looking manager lady was the one to do it, with the other man holding him still. Guess he has a lot of fight in him. It was like holding a feral hissy cat at the vet, it was kind of funny to watch. I don’t know if they found something or not, because I couldn’t actually understand what they were saying. I think it was Japanese? But I can still sense the energy, and I guess the guy got in trouble.

Now, this is the part that you probably wanted to hear, officer. Because moments after whatever was going on, suddenly this car pulls up. Really nice car, standard brand and practically inconspicuous. It opens up, and apparently it was like….. some drive by robbery or something, but I really don’t know what the people wanted. Toilet paper? Crackers? A shirt that was very neon yellow?

Anyways, what I saw was nothing less than something that came out of a movie. So one of the robbers tried to steal from them by pointing I think a gun at them, but the buff potato attacks and very quickly disarms them. Meanwhile, the one that kind of was wearing a pink peep jacket? Yeah, apparently she wasn’t having any of it as well when another approached the trolley containing what might have been her best friend or something, because she absolutely punches them in the face before they even got too close. Oh, and remember the blackberry yoghurt parfait and the guy that got tackled? Yeah, so turns out the pool noodle giraffe whips out a slingshot from his pocket and pops a rock into one of the robber’s eye, and the tiger man just takes his sandal off and smacks them like a grandma. It was very weird to watch.

But it like…. worked? Somehow? Because these robbers were, no offence, dumb as shit to try to rob a group of six people, especially when one looks like he could punch a tiger and not care at all. So they were knocked down, I guess the shopping cart chilling border collie man called the police, which is when you guys came down to arrest said robbers, aaaannnnd here we are!” Yin finishes, smiling proudly.

The officer can only stare at them, trying to process whatever the hell that story meant.

“…. Alright, thank you.”

Yin nods again, still smiling at the officer until they were escorted out, the officer looking up at the camera that recorded everything. Their eyes only showed pure confusion and a silent hope that the rest of the statements weren’t as….. chaotic.