#and that’s one of those things where i Could make myself miserable trying to figure out if people secretly hate me for being annoying

[brittlebutch]

the thing about the “love letter” core of these characters is that it is turning out to be a very fascinating coping mechanism. of like, when i have that moment of “oh no my autism is making me so fucking annoying/embarrassing/whatever right now” self-awareness, instead of getting shuttled into the semi-usual downward self-cringing spiral, i find myself breaking off into “actually, i think one of these characters does the exact same thing and the other one Loves them for it”, which i find i like a lot more

[lovelywritinglady]

hi can i recwest a uzui x reader where uzui have a argment and gat a divors and yn is pregnet years later when the child and he rillast that it is his child and has a tak whif yn and trase to fics everifing

if you canpleas do thak you and have a grat day

I’d love to!💜

Mistakes

Tengen Uzui x fem!Reader

You and Tengen got into a heated argument after a demon hunt gone wrong. He says some extremely hurtful words. You decide to leave him because you know you don’t deserve that. What you didn’t know was that you were pregnant with his child. Angst, slight fluff, Tengen being a dick, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, and other mature themes.

Your pov

"You nearly got us killed, what are you and idiot?" My husband Tengen yelled at me.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry!" I yelled back

"You cannot afford accidents like this Y/N!" He roared stepping closer to me causing me to flinch slightly.

"I'm sorry." I whispered

"Sorry won't even begin to cover the fucking stupitity of your actions! You have no right being a demon slayer with how dumb you are. I can't believe I married someone like you!" he yelled looking me dead in the eye with fury.

"Fuck you!" I snapped as my anger began rising as tears filled my eyes.

"Real mature Y/N, get the hell out of my house until you can learn some respect and basic combat moves." he said as he began walking away as I began to sob.

"Where the hell am I going to stay! Tengen, I'm your wife!' I cried walking towards him.

"Hell if I care, just get your things and don't come back until you aren't so incopitent." he snapped walking away into another room.

I stood there unable to think, feel, or understand the situation. My body moved on its own and next thing I knew I was out of mt home with a bag packed walking only god knows where. It was getting dark, but I didn't care all I knew is that I was no longer wanted, needed, or loved by the man that swore he would protect me and love me no matter what. So much for promises. I kept walking until the sun began to rise, my thoughts much clearer now and my tears no longer flowing down my face. I decided to go live with my older sister, Misa, who lives on the other side of the country. Her and I have always been close, and I just hoped I would never see that asshole again.

One Month Later

I feel unbelievebly sick, as every morning and evening I spill my guts out. I have an uncontroable hunger and yet anytime I try to eat something I feel once again that I want to throw up. I feel miserable not just physically, but mentally too. Despite his words, I still love my husband. He use to be my everything, but I suppose I was never his. He claimed that he couldn't believe that he married me and just thinking about those poisonus words make my body ache once more. Tears I try not to spill came fourth with so much eagerness that I had no time to stop them. I hated myself for crying over him, but I suppose I was really crying for the man he use to be. I knew in my heart that I would always love him, but now I can never be with someone who so easily made me feel like my very existence meant nothing. I heard a faint knocking that pulled me out of my thoughts as the sweet voice of my sister filled the room.

"How are you feeling this morning, Y/N?" Misa asked as she sat next to me putting her hand on my forhead.

"Not great." I sighed smiling at her wiping away my tears.

"Y/N, I really think we should get you a doctor. This has been going on too long." She suggested taking her hand off my head.

"I think your right Misa." I sighed

"I didn't want to say anything to you, but I really think you're pregnant." she said in a whisper

"What!" I whisper yelled

"You're showing signs and don't worry if you are. I will always take care of you." Misa reassured

"Lets hope I'm not then." I said nervously.

Two days later the doctor came, she was a sweet older lady that had a warm smile and a small figure. She came into my room and inspected me in all they ways she could. My nerves at this point were all consuming as I really did not want to be pregnant, especially since I knew who the father was.

"My dear you have no fever and no true illness. What you are expierencing, is early signs of pregnancy." she said with a smile

"I see, I guess my sister was right then." I stated sadly

"Are you not happy, I'm sure your husband will be." she stated with a concerned look on her face.

"My husband no longer wants me." I answered doing my best not to cry once more.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my dear." She said grabbing my hand.

"Thank you, I just have no idea what to do now." I said honestly

"That's just something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. At the end of the day you need to do what's best for your child." She spoke seriously

"Yes, I suppose you're right." I sighed

"Of course I'm right dear, I am a doctor." she joked

"Hey, is everything alright in here?" my sister asked as she knocked on the door.

"It will be." I whispered touching my belly.

Three Years And Six Months Later

My son, Kei, is now nearly three years old. He's a rowdy child that seems to always be obsessed with what is going on outside. Whether is rainy, snowy, or sunny, he's always begging to go outside. I can't complain though as I love nature and seeing his little cheeks puffed up when he askes is always so cute. Kei looks a little bit like his father as he got most of his features from me. His eyes are the same color as my ex husband and his personality matches. His hair is a lighter shade of h/c, which gave me relief. I still haven't told Tengen about our son, nor do I want to. Part of me feels selfish, but part of me doesn't want to subject him to a man like Tengen. Although, when they do meet, I hope he is kind to his son. Kei is too sweet and kind to have to be around a father that verbally abuses him. I just couldn't live with myself if I let my baby be hurt by him.

In these three years, I haven't had a full time job. Mostly they have been part time jobs and my sister has been providing for me and my son. She claimes that since she doesn't have a family that this is no trouble, but Kei is old enough where I can start working full time. It took a long time to find job, but one day my sister came into the house screaming that she found a job that was perfect for me.

"Y/N, this is a landscaping job." she nearly yelled in my ear

"Huh, that's a little different than the jobs that I'm looking for, but hey if they are hiring then I'll take it." I said confifently

"Mama what's going on?" Kei asked as he walked into the room with a sleepy expression.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to wake you up." I cooed opening my arms for my son. He then picked up the pace and ran into my arms crushing me with all of his nearly three year old strength.

"Its okay." he sighed playing with his fingers with a small tired pout

"Your mama just found a job, Kei." my sister said with a smile at her nephew

"Okay." he said disinterested. I smiled at this, he's so small and perfect and despite the fact that my pregnancy was not the easiest, it was worth it.

Two weeks later I found myself walking towards my new job. It was a sunny day and part of myself wished Kei was here to enjoy it with me. I can almost hear his voice calling my name begging me to play with him. I was lucky to have been blessed with him. My thoughts of my perfect child came to a halt as the gates of the house I would be working at came into view. Taking a deep breath I began walking to what I thought was the front door. This property was absolutely beautiful. Everything seemed like it was perfect, not even a pebble out of place. It was a calming place that seemed to inspire peace. For some reason this place looked oddly familiar and it only now hit me that this was the place where the master lived. Tengen had taken me here years ago when he became hashira while I was just starting to become a demon slayer. Before I left, I was one rank away from being hashira. I thought about training again, but now that I have my son I felt it was irresponsible. Plus I could never leave him.

"You must be Y/N." The master suddenly said and it made me wonder how long he was there for.

"Yes sir, its very nice to meet you. Thank you for having me." I said bowing to show respect to him.

"Of course. I am aware of your situation and am happy to give you work here." He said with a smile." Come with me and I'll show you the grounds.

Two weeks later

Working at this mansion feels peaceful and the work is harder than I expected, but the pay is well worth it. Today I raked, cut grass, and tended to the luscious gardens. The sun beamed down on me giving me a slight headache. Thankfully the day was almost over for me so that I could go home to my son and my sister. Kei has been begging me to take him here ever since my sister told him that the hashira train here. I have been reluctant of it since seeing Tengen might be a possiblilty and seeing a child in my arms was a conversation that I simply did not want to have yet, even though I knew one day it would happen. I heard light footsteps approach me. turning my head I saw one of the other workers and smiled at him. He was a kind man that was around my age and he and I had talked a few times.

"Hey there, how's the work today?" He questioned with a sweet smile.

"Same as always although its a little hotter than usual." I responded

"Yeah, but I like it when its hot because I know that cooler weather is around the corner." he said with a content smile

"That would be nice." I chuckled

"Oh, you should know that the hashira will be here tomorrow." he said seriously

"Well, I'll make sure to make myself scarce." I said trying to mask my nervousness.

"Don't, all you need to do is smile and show them respect." He smiled

"Will do." I laughed standing up.

"Well I will see you tomorrow and tell your son I said hi." he smirked

"I'll make sure to tell him, see you tomorrow." I bowed

I watched him leave with a fake smile on my face. As soon as he was out of sight I sighed as my stomach throbbed with uncomfortable uneasiness as I began waking to the shed to put my tools away with my head hung low. I was no where okay with the fact that Tengen was going to be here tomorrow. I thought that maybe I should call in sick, but no one would believe that. Even if they did, I’d feel too guilty about it. The best thing to do was to avoid seeing him and focus on my work. If I keep my head down and not do any quick movements, then he won’t see me, hopefully. My thoughts were completely consumed with my nerves that I didn’t even register that I had bumped into someone until I heard someone speaking.

“Hey watch where you walk, alright.” The voice snapped

“Forgive me, I wasn’t looking.” I said frantically bowing as to show respect and forgiveness.

“Y/N?” The voice questioned lowing its tone. I then stood up and as my eyes met with the stranger I immediately tended up. My breath hitched and my stomach dropped into the ground. The one and one Tengen Uzui stood before me in all of his flashy glory.

“Uhh, you gonna say anything?” He joked as his eyes raked over my body.

“Um hi.” I stuttered slightly unsure of what the hell to even do. And I tended even more so when his body came crashing into mine in a bone crushing hug. I could feel his urgency and I almost allowed myself to met into his arms. But I couldn’t because I knew it wasn’t right.

“I missed you.” He mumbled into my hair. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve that.” He cried.

“I know.” I said monotone still unsure what to do. Do I tell him about our son or do I keep my mouth shut and pretend like any of this is okay?

“Where have you been?” He questioned breaking the hug but still standing close. I looked up at him and sighed.

“Here and there, but mostly I’ve been living with my sister.” I said honestly. I really couldn’t lie to this man he’s really good at sporting liars. As much as I hated him, I really didn’t feel like lying to him.

“Ahh so that’s where you’ve been. I though your sister moved away from here.” He said curiously.

“She was going to, but she decided to stay.” I responded trying not to show too much emotion.

“Guess I should’ve looked there.” He joked

“You looked for me?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I did you’re my wife and I love you.” He scoffed as though he was offended.

“I just thought you wouldn’t care.” I mumbled

“Of course I care.” Tengen sighed

“Well you sure as hell didn’t act like it then.” I snapped

“You’re right, I didn’t I was too hard on you. You made a simple mistake. Hell I’ve made mistakes too. Making mistakes in this line of work is never good, but no one died. I should’ve been easier on you and I’m sorry.” He spoke. His eyes were pleading with mine saying silent apologies.

“Thank you for apologizing, but I can’t forgive you right now. You make me feel like I was nothing and I’m not just going to forgive that easily. I know one day I will, but I just can’t now.” I whispered as tears threatened my eyes.

“That’s understandable, I just hope one day that we can be together again. I miss you and honestly you’re the best aspect of life.” He said with a longing gaze.

“I’m not sure about that. That might take a long time. I don’t exactly trust you.” I spoke honestly.

“Fair enough.” He sighed. I reluctantly decided that I should just rip the bandaid off. Kei was his son and as much as I hated to admit it, Tengen was honest about his apologies. That man doesn’t half ass anything. So I thought this might be the time.

“Look Tengen I-“Just as I was about to tell him the screeching voice of my child filled my ears and I knew I was fucked.

“Mama!” Kei screeched as he ran straight towards me crushing me into a hug. He nuzzled his head into my thigh and despite how nervous I was I smiled at how cute my baby was.

“We have a child.” I finished with an awkward smile. Tengen stood there stiff and unmoving which was strange for him. I had never seen him tense up like this ever and I began to regret not going home sooner.

“Mama who’s this and why is he so tall.” Kei questioned waking up to Tengen. “Hey, you okay?” He said as he poked Tengens hand.

“Ummm.” Tengen said still shocked at the fact that Kei, his son, was standing right there. Matching pink eyes and all.

“Ummm?” Kei questioned craning his head to the side. “That’s a weird name.” Kei said in disgust.

“Baby this is Tengen Uzui and he’s a hashira. And he’s also your father.” I said trying to stay as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re my dad.?” Kei asked Tengen with cute excited smile on his cubby face.

“Yeah, I guess I am kid.” Tengen whispered crouching down and pulling Kei towards him in a loving him. “I’m your dad.” Tengen cried.

I began to shed a few tears at how cute this meeting was. I felt slightly bad that I didn’t tell Tengen about our son, but I had good reasons not to. I’m just so glad that he seems to be a better and nicer man. My thoughts then came to a haunt as I noticed my sister wasn’t here nor was was neighbor that Kei likes to hang out with. Meaning he came here alone.

“Kei honey, did you walk here alone.” I questioned with my hands on my hips.

“Umm no.” He quickly said.

“Kei answer your mother honestly.” Tengen said sternly but not too much as to scare the child.

“Yeah okay I came here by myself. But I really missed you!” Kei cried quickly to defend himself

“I missed you too, but you need to wait until I get home.” I sighed looking at how adorable my son looked with a pout.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. Smiling at my son hugging his father brought peace to me. And I then decided to do something that would bring us all together.

“Tengen, would you like to join us for dinner?” I questioned still looking at the cute scene before me.

“Absolutely I would!” He exclaimed standing up and picking up our son, swinging him in the air.

“Yay!” Kei screeched

Making eye contact with Tengen I have him a small smile. His eyes looked relaxed and happy and I’m glad that he found out about or son. He then came up to me smiling as well.

“Y/N thank you for allowing me to be with him. I will do by best to be the father he deserves and hopefully one day the man you deserve if that’s what you’d like.” He spoke

“Thank you, I’m sure you will. And for that second bit only time can tell.” I joked

“Sounds good to me. Alright shall we go?” Tengen suggested

“Yeah, I wanna show you my room!” Kei said

“I bet it’s the flashiest room ever.” Tengen said matching Kei’s energy.

“It sure is!” I exclaimed content about the situation that I was in. But I wondered something.

“Hey why are you here early?” I asked Tengen

“The master told me to come early.” He spoke

“Why?” I asked

“No idea, but something tells me this was the reason.” He spoke softly

“Maybe.” I responded shaking my head at the thought that the master was trying to play match maker again.

We walked to the house as Kei held Tengens hand as well as he could. While the adults caught up on the years and for the first time in a long time I felt happy to be near Tengen.

Thank you so much for reading💜 Thank you to whoever requested this! Sorry it took longer than expected.

Please fell free to comment, repost, and request.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

-L.W.L

[abstractfrog]

HI I JUST SAW YOUR INCREDIBLE SHERLOCK AND CO COMIC YOU MADE AND I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO TALK ABOUT THE PROCESS AND THE SYMBOLISM AND INTRICACIES AND EVERYTHING PLEASE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

GOD THANK U ok if i actually talked about EVERYTHING i would be here forever and ever, there were things about the process where it kept surprising me and i kept adding stuff.

I talk about my general comic process here , it started out mostly the same for this one. Analysis of the script, sketches, panel and colour blocking

The scene from Mr Sherlock Holmes presented me with a unique challenge (for me) because...usually I pick scenes from the podcast that are instantly visually stimulating. This scene is NOT that. It's sort of unclear and confusing and even the emotive narrative is sort of hard to pick out. Those things I had to sort of decide for myself. It's hard to draw a whole scene like this without first deciding what the scene is about, what its purpose is. If you go back and listen to the episode along with the comic you'll notice all sorts of changes and tonal shifts - that's because of me and my decision making.

I decided that the direction I wanted to go in was to show John having his realization about himself, his podcast, and Sherlock, showing him getting pulled into, yes, Sherlock's world, but also the world of the podcast as an adaptation. I knew i could do this just with colour, but if you've seen my other comics, you know i almost always use colour to show shifts. I guess I had some insecurity about doing the same thing over and over again so I pushed myself to think of other ways I could accomplish it visual. Enter: rendering technique

I will say I didn't expect this effect to make John seem so SAD and MISERABLE, i only wanted to show him getting pulled in, but its effective for his emotions in this scene as well. Scanning drawings into the computer sort of flattens the paper texture, so I started adding photos of the pages of A Study in Scarlet to make him feel more paper-y. And then, of course, realised i could use that to further elaborate on John's inner thoughts, backgrounds, and motivations. People are welcome to interpreted that how they like and i've seen a number of variations, but to me it operates on sort of a meta level, showing the inevitability of what John is going through. He's a Watson, he's always going to follow Holmes, he's going to try and figure him out, and that's why you sort of see a back and forth between acd and pod Watson, highlighting the ways in which they are similar, and then, John breaks off and becomes his own character, still with those foundations but also entirely different.

there's one piece of text that i haven't seen anyone pick up on or mention and I'm starting to think it's gone unnoticed because it's in an unexpected spot. I won't mention what or where because it is, for now, a very indulgent little secret.

I notice a lot of people are getting a kick out of Sherlock playing with the speech bubbles, which I am so pleased by because I almost didn't do it! I thought i was maybe breaking something in the comic but it was so fun that i didn't care and I'm so glad it came across well. It operates on a lot of levels, it shows his thought process, it plays into that fourth-wall medium play i've got going on, and it feeds into the web metaphor as well as visually showing him roping John in.

on the topic of Sherlock, I feel a lot of people are rather focused on John, which is understandable (he's the main event) but Sherlock has a lot of details I love too.

For instance, him pushing his hair back and putting on a coat when the officer arrives, almost like he's shifted modes, and then his hair falling back down when he gets excited and John starts to understand.

I really love this moment of Sherlock seeing John's potential for interest in mysteries when he's trying to solve the matter of what Sherlock Does, and being surprised and flattered for a moment (until John messes it up again)

John copying Sherlock's pose <3

There's deliberate things in the character design as well, things like the fact that once John comes into colour, it reveals that he's actually wearing more colour than anyone else in the scene, and the fact that the grey in John's hair only appears post-greyscale. Things you are welcome to read into. And there are, of course, the socks, which I've seen people pick up on.

Those are the main things for now so i might leave it there, but thank you so much for your ask and i'd be pleased to elaborate further on absolutely anything!

[lurkingshan]

(Different anon) I agree with and understand your points re: ~why you watch GMMTV if don't like??~ and why the question is/feels hostile.

But taking the question itself in good faith as "why do you (should I) keep watching shows I think/know I will not like based on how others have been handled?" in the genuine spirit of "explain like I'm 5 because I don't understand the lingo and background but want to understand the concept, how would you explain it to people not as into/knowledgeable/etc BL and the history of GMMTV?

Hi anon! This is an interesting question, because it depends so much on you as an individual and what makes you happy.

I think there is often a misconception that people who post critical meta are having a miserable time and torturing themselves with media they hate, but it's just not true. For folks like me who enjoy thinking critically, this is how we have fun. When I love something, I want to rip open its guts and see how it's all assembled. It's what stimulates my brain and gets me excited. And when I don't love something wholeheartedly, I am interested in figuring out why. I've often had the experience of watching something that I know should be working on me, and if it isn't, that creates an intellectual puzzle that I find very satisfying to solve. Why isn't it working, and what can that help me learn about storytelling? This is also fun for me.

Another misconception I often see in fandom is that if you like something, you can't have negative thoughts about it and you have to pretend it's perfect to be a good fan. Nonsense! Being a hater is fun, especially about things you truly love. I'll give you a really concrete example: Bad Buddy is one of my all time favorite shows. It first aired three years ago and I still think about it nearly every day. It's a show that stimulates my brain but also hits me straight in the heart. But I do not think it's perfect and I get a lot of joy from thinking about the parts that did not work (Wai's redemption, that stupid fake out in the finale, all of episode 9) and making fun of it (have you heard that PAT GOT SHOT??). This, too, is a form of love and source of joy.

So with those misconceptions addressed, why do I keep watching shows I suspect I won't like? First, because you truly never know until you try, and I like to be pleasantly surprised. Two of my favorite shows of this year, Cherry Magic Thailand and Knock Knock Boys, shocked the hell out of me. I went into CMT deeply skeptical only to be charmed against my will and so impressed by how they adapted it, and I went into KKB expecting it to be like 95% of weak Thai pulps only to realize its writing and themes were stronger than they had any right to be. If I stayed away from all media I thought I might not like, I would have never had the amazing experience of watching and discussing those two shows live with friends who also loved them.

Second, like I said above, I still have fun examining shows that are not quite working for me, and sometimes I am compelled by the ambition of shows even if I don't think the execution is serving. A great example of that is The Sign. I wanted to support that show because of who was making it, and it had so much early promise that when it fell apart halfway through, I stuck it out to try to make sense of what went wrong. In cases like that, I like to figure out what a show thinks it's doing, what it's actually doing, and where the disconnect is. It's a fun puzzle for me to sort through such an ambitious mess of a show. This is why, btw, I am never really moved by fanwanks to fill in gaps in story and characterization. I understand why others enjoy fixing shows in their brains and then pretending that's what they actually saw, but it's not what motivates me. My goal with shows like this is not to get myself to like it no matter what, it's to figure out why I don't like it and what could be changed to address that.

Third, I care about ql as a genre, and I like to be aware of how it's evolving and be part of the collective experience of watching it. QL fandom is tiny and I like to know what my friends are talking about! I can't watch everything because there is simply way too much content these days, but I like to watch or at least pay attention to most of the big buzzy shows to track trends and see what's getting the fandom frustrated or excited. I didn't watch We Are because I knew enough about what it was doing and who was involved to understand it was not for me, but I did pay attention to reactions to it. Watching Jack & Joker with Thai bl fandom right now is some of the most fun we've had since Only Friends killed our spirit. J&J is directed by my parasocial frenemy Tee Bundit, whose shows often frustrate the hell out of me and whom I have ripped to shreds on this platform many times over. But I'm not gonna let that stop me from having fun with this new show, because Joke is The Moment and we're all in this together.

So truly, anon: whether or not you should be like me and watch things you may not like or continue watching shows you don't think are very good depends on what motivates you. You should figure out what is most fun for you re: media consumption, and do that. You can seek out people who enjoy media the same way you do, and also befriend people who think differently if you want to learn from each other and don't mind a bit of productive discomfort from time to time. I have gotten better recently at recognizing when I'm just getting nothing out of a show and dropping it like a hot potato (because some shows are not bad in an interesting way, they are just bad), or realizing which shows I will like better on a binge (usually the ones with terrible pacing, that is not as tortuous for me when I can just watch it all in one go). You gotta do some testing to figure it out.

All of this has all been a really long-winded way to say you should do what makes you happy, and don't assume that just because someone else's happiness looks different from yours, that it's wrong.

[coryothesub]

Coryo is excited to see the reader taking control in situations.

This just screams peacekeeper Coryo, because the boy is just so helpless!

nsfw / mdni / pk!sub!coryo / district!dom!reader

It was a pretty boring Friday night at the Hob and you were already heading home when you heard some commotion in the dark alleyway behind the establishment.

Involving yourself with drunk men fighting was the last thing you desired and you were already speeding up your walk to get past the scene unbothered, but then you noticed someone you recognized pretty well in the dim reflection of the distant street lights.

There he was again. Private Coriolanus Snow caught in a heated argument with some local drunks. Very bad choice. 

You stopped by the alleyway and tried to figure out what all the fuss was about. Of course Coryo was spewing out some bullshit about patriotism and the vital role of the Capitol. For a moment you were truly considering just leaving that arrogant little dumbass at the mercy of those drunken pricks.

But then you heard the sound of a fight and turned around to see Coryo on the ground, his upper lip bleeding. Biggest of the guys grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to his knees.

“Admit that the Capitol is just a sewer full of miserable rats or we will gladly rearrange those pretty features of yours!” He screamed.

“Just say it,” you muttered to yourself clearly knowing he wouldn't. For fucks sake there were three of them!

“Never!” Coryo hissed through gritted teeth causing you to facepalm.

The men surrounded him in a tight circle and one of them had already raised his hand for a punch when he suddenly stopped startled by your voice.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” you tried to sound cool approaching the unpleasant bunch.

The men stared at you with bleary eyes for a good moment until one of them spoke.

“Get lost, woman!” He growled. “You have nothing to see here.”

“This man here is from a very prominent Capitol family,” you broke into their circle and stood between them and Coryo, making the men step back instinctively.

“You hurt him, you'll get killed. If you get too carried away and kill him your families will be murdered too. He's not worth it!”

Coryo looked slightly offended at those last words, but at least he was smart enough to keep quiet. 

“Are you his whore?” The biggest and scariest of the bunch approached you causing you to swallow thickly. “Is that why you care about our wellbeing so much?”

“I would stay where you are if I was you,” you managed to keep your posture.

“I don't hit women. Unless they are filthy peacekeepers’ whores!” The man yelled and tried to swing a badly aimed punch at you, but you avoided it and kicked your knee up aiming directly at his manhood.

The man made a wailing sound and fell to his knees, his friends finally stepped back.

“So who wants to be next? Or maybe you wanna get some taste of the pepper spray that I have in my pocket?”

The man who’d tried to hit you was trying to get back on his feet, muttering all the possible curse words and you already thought both you and Coryo were gonna be so fucked especially if they’d found out you had no pepper spray with you.

But the other men started to retreat, pulling up their friend and dragging him away despite his protests.

After a few short moments only you and Coryo were left in the alleyway.

“Thank you!” You heard his lovely little voice behind yourself.

You turned around to see him getting up from the ground quite nimbly. You also noticed that his lips were still trembling from fear.

“Could you ever just stop getting in trouble?” You gave him an annoyed look.

“I-I would have totally handled it by myself, it’s just…”

“Yeah sure!” You rolled your eyes. Sometimes you just couldn't believe the audacity of this Capitol dullard.

“... it's just that you are so beautiful when you take control like this,��� he stepped closer, his cheeks slightly flushed, you could feel the alcohol reeking from his breath.

“Such a charmer,” you turned your head to the side not wanting to admit that you were indeed somewhat charmed.

His hands found yours and your fingers intertwined him simultaneously pushing you closer to a nearby wall.

“So beautiful…” he whispered, his lips lingering near yours adorned with a silly smile. He was acting like a drunk school boy with a crush, posca and adrenaline from almost getting beaten black and blue still running through his veins.

“No, not like that baby,” you giggled and switched your positions in a swift move, pinning him against the wall, his hands above his head.

Coryo's eyes widened for a moment before his features were taken over by a tipsy smile. He felt completely at ease under your control and so did you.

“This is better,” you cooed before pressing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss that tasted a bit metallic from his bleeding lip.

Coryo's lips caught yours in a hungry ardor, he tasted your mouth letting out sweet moans in between.

You put your leg in between his thighs, pressed it against his crotch and ran your tongue over the abrasion on his upper lip making him whine softly.

Still holding his hands pinned against the wall you started rubbing your tight against him making him flare his nostrils as he watched you with those wide icy blue eyes.

“Oh fuck!” Coryo moaned as you sped up your moves feeling his cock getting hard in his pants.

“You like it?” You whispered against his lips, then moved lower and peppered soft kisses along his neck feeling his pulse running wild under your lips.

“I-I d-do like it,” he stuttered as your kisses got harsher making sure to mark him as yours. 

Coryo's dick was painfully hard under your touch and he rolled his eyes back in pleasure feeling your tongue on his Adam's apple.

“If those guys saw you now they would surely know who is whose whore here, huh?” You teased before going back to his lips and meeting them in a harsh kiss.

“Please…” Coryo pleaded desperately, trying to grind his bulge against your thigh, making you chuckle in amusement.

“You're mine, Private Snow. All mine, do you understand that?”

“All yours,” Coryo whined, desperate for his release. 

Suddenly you stopped and stepped back letting his hands go. The boy's eyes went wide at the loss of contact.

“D-dont… Don't just leave me like this…” he begged, looking like a hungry puppy.

“Who said I was going to leave you?” You let out a small laugh.

“Now go back inside and get us a bottle of posca! Then we can go to my place and who knows… Maybe you’ll get to cum if you behave.”

Coryo rushed to carry out your instructions.

“Just don't get in trouble!”

[two-sides-halved]

Continued | @erisdiamas

"Oh?? If it was that specific gem only, then why did your feelings for your own Jasper bleed into your opinion of my own? I mean, yes, she's dedicated, she was made to be, she's still kinda unlearning the homeworld propaganda that she's had ever since she popped out of her exit hole." He explained. "She still carries those feelings so failure from failing to protect her Diamond from being shattered, despite how it was faked... then despite how she fought during the war, fought on the side of Homeworld in Pink Diamond's name, despite being in Yellow Diamonds court now." Gem Steven replied. "She still carried those feelings of grief... she still does... so does Iris. Old habits die hard and all that..."

"I enjoy Jasper's company not, because she's dedicated to me, but because we share those feelings of failure to protect the people we swore to protect... I see myself in her... every flaw I have she also has... and I know you probably don't like hearing me compare myself to someone you deem a mutt, but that wouldn't be the first time I've compared myself to something akin to an attack dog."

He let out a low sigh. "I know that you don't need me... and I think that's why it hurts so much when you left the first time... because I know everyone's going to out grow me one way or another... hell Steven planned for his own cross country trip and all I could think of was... "of course he's leaving me... he doesn't need me any more no one does, I've become obsolete. I'm off color, overcooked, a mistake that no one wanted to deal with because everyone wanted Rose back and they got stuck with me." His tears started flowing over his cheeks, notably these tears didn't sparkly or fizzle away, but flowed down over his chubby cheek and onto the ground surprisingly no ill effects followed after.

"So when you came back I was so relieved to see you were ok, but then wracked with guilt that I didn't try harder to find you... that I when I was told she was going to be fine, I just believed you would instead of hunting you down like a bloodhound and making sure that you would never had to deal with any of this shit you had to deal with." He huffed a bit, as he pushed away the finished charcoal drawing, and wiped the dust on his pants before sniffling like a miserable kid huffing and puffing about a bad dream he had.

"By the time you left the second time I had figured... yea she can handle herself, she's proven to me she's been through hell and she can handle it, but I don't like it, I don't like leaving that up to chance... but I know the more I push you to stay home the more you're gonna feel like a fish inside a bird cage... longing for the open waters to explore the world, yet in an environment that's suffocating the longer that you're away from it." He huffed, and sniffled.

"I don't wanna make you feel like I'm suffocating you... I don't like feeling like I'm this massive problem that everyone has to deal... I don't like being constantly reminded of my past failures and mistakes...you're asking what I want... what I want is to forget about the past and have this fresh clean slate where I only remember being here on this Earth and not having to remember all the bad things that happened that caused me to be here in the first place." He shield himself. "I know everything that mom did albeit very fuzzy now, what she was thinking, why she thought it was the only way or a good idea... how she tried her damnedest to make things right... she never wanted to hurt anyone and she only ended up hurting everyone with her good intentions." He huffed as he made another few smores for the both of them passing her a few while eating one of them.

"I can't speak if your version of Rose was the same way, or even if Classic's version of Rose was that way, but I'd like to think that all these Roses are all cut from this same cloth of being underappreciated, rebelling against the idea that she's lesser than to everyone's failure to realize that she was unhappy, worked to make it so she could be happy, and only found happiness when she met someone like dad... who pushed back these feelings of superiority, who made her realize that what the diamonds did to her was wrong, but also that she was doing the same god damn thing and not realizing it until finally realizing that she was the problem and solving it by getting rid of herself..." He huffed, flopping down on the ground with his arms under his head looking up at the eerily green sky, with the shimmering starts peaking through, he was getting better but he wasn't quite there yet.

"To think all of this still stems from that movie is downright laughable if it weren't so emotionally draining." Gem Steven replied with a soft mumble due to his mouth being full.

[miasmaghoul]

I just, I don't even know what to say

W O W

Ok, serious chat for a moment. Warnings for mentions of an ED and medical mistreatment.

It's so frustrating to still see shit like this when I grew up in the days of fat free everything and Weight Watchers ads every 5 minutes on TV.

Why is it fat people that everyone agrees to dogpile on? We're bullied incessantly for something that a lot of us can't even fix or help, because people who AREN'T fat assume we're just lazy pigs. Like yeah, please just disregard my physical debility and MULTIPLE hormonal issues and just assume that I just shovel food into my mouth constantly. Oh, you say I can't have an eating disorder because I'm fat and "those people" are skinny? BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU!

It's bullshit, full stop. I still struggle with my ED, but the older I've gotten the more open and honest with myself I've become. I've never sought treatment for it because, again, I'm still fat. The one time I did bring it up to a doctor, he said "well if you do have an eating disorder then you aren't doing a very good job." I wish I were making that up.

Fat is in my genes, and there are so many other contributing factors it isn't even funny. It's so pounded into our heads that we NEED to be thin (mostly targeting women, let's be real) in order to have value, and I'm so fuckin sick of still hearing about the latest severely unhealthy fad diet or what fucking celebrity is on ozempic.

Which, by the way, I did have pushed on me a couple years ago when regular people could still get their hands on it. It made me feel so much worse. Every dose would trigger a binge, and I would feel horrible for days afterwards. I told my doctor (different from the other one I mentioned) this, and she told me that it was just something I was going to have to deal with because look, you've lost 20lbs since your last visit!

I felt worse than I had in YEARS, but it didn't matter because my body was becoming more socially acceptable. Do you want to know how many times doctors have tried to shove weight loss surgery down my throat? Countless. No matter how many times I say I'm not even there to talk about my weight, and that those surgeries are NOT for me, someone always brings it up. It's crazy how hurtful being ignored for knowing your own body is, because someone else thinks you need to change.

I wish this was something I had figured out when I was younger, but alas. I wore a hoodie over my clothes for 6 years straight, regardless of how hot it was outside, just to try to hide. I made myself miserable, ate barely anything (which would just trigger a binge, of course) and had it beat into my head constantly that my weight was the most important thing about me.

Here's the thing it took me way too long to learn:

IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER

You know what the number on the scale is? It's just a number. Your weight, high or low, is simply a tiny part of who you are as a human. If others choose to judge you based on it, that's not a failure on your part. It's on theirs. Being fat is not a crime, nor is it deserving of the insults and sneers we get in public spaces. People will always find a reason to stare, to whisper and giggle, and the best thing you can do for yourself is not give them the time of day.

I realize that's not easy. It's taken me 30+ years to reach a point where I've realized that going out in public is a necessity, and that the only reason I think people are staring at me is because advertisements like this punched the concept into my fragile little mind as a kid. At the end of the day, this is the one thing all fat people need to know:

Being fat is not a moral failure.

There is nothing wrong with you just because you need bigger clothes, mobility aids, or help from others. I don't care what anyone says - your weight is no one's business but your own. You want to lose weight? Go for it! More power to you, you'll get nothing but support from me. But there's nothing wrong with not wanting to do that either. That's really what it comes down to - the assumption that there's something inherently wrong with us because we're bigger than other people.

That's the part that needs to stop. And if anyone ever needs a reminder, my asks are always open. You're beautiful, I promise. 💜

Thank you for coming to my TED talk lmao

(I'm sure some asshole anons will come at me for "glorifying obesity" or "promoting unhealthy lifestyles". I assure you I am not. I am simply trying to help normalize a different mindset. If you're upset that fat people exist and that I'm saying they deserve the same care and compassion as anybody else, then you need to do a little bit of internal examination there. I promise fat people have not hurt you by virtue of existing in larger bodies ♡)

[taatsums]

Raito Kitakata SR - Authentic Vampire: Vampires and Ramen With No Garlic

Part 1

📍 Shopping Mall

Raito: Well then…

Raito: Where should we start? Each and every shop is filled to the brim with Halloween merchandise!

Tao: Looks like you’re having fun, Raito-san.

Raito: Yeah, Halloween costumes are nothing to scoff at, after all. While everyone is dressed up as monsters, the “real monsters” pretending to be human sneak in…

Raito: It’s my annual chance to encounter the unknown, which is why I couldn’t hold my excitement back when I heard that costumes will be mandatory for this year’s HAMA Tours Halloween Party.

Tao: Woah!? You’re way more fired up than I thought…

Tao: Have you decided what you’re going to wear?

Raito: That’s where I’m struggling. A werewolf that changes his form is as Halloween as you can get, but I can’t just ignore the potential of the miserable monster, Frankenstein.

Raito: On top of those, there’s also the option of a mummy, and the romance of resurrection… Hmmm, I must make sure I don’t regret my choice down the line.

Little boy: Big bro! I wanna wear this!

Tao: Huh…

Reliable boy: A vampire, huh? Sure thing, but isn’t that a little cliché?

Little boy: But the cape is so cool! And sucking blood sounds kinda epic!

Reliable boy: Hmmm, let’s go with that, then!

Tao: … That’s kinda sweet.

Raito: … Yeah. I used to talk with Nayuki about Halloween monsters like that too.

Raito: Back then, he used to happily indulge anything I’d say, but now… I feel like he’s keeping his distance more than usual.

Tao: (I mean, I can kinda see why.)

Raito: But Nayuki also used to think vampires were cool when we were kids…

Raito: Alright, I’ve decided. I’ll dress up as a vampire this year!

Tao: Huh… Are you sure? Like those kids said, that’s a bit of a clichéd option.

Raito: Heh, the more cliché a monster seems, the more profound it actually is.

Raito: So, this time I will act as a perfect vampire, and give everyone a scare, the “real ones” included!

Tao: You’ll act as the perfect vampire…

Tao: … Is that what Halloween parties are like?

Part 2

📍 HAMA House, Monkey room

Raito: Okay… That should do it.

Raito: All that’s left is to figure out what to do with this…

[Door opening]

Tao: Excuse me, Raito-san. I just wanted to confirm something about the Halloween Party–

Tao: Wh-What are all these cardboard boxes here for!? Are you moving out!?

Raito: Oh, Tao. Good timing.

Raito: I’m sorry to ask this of you, but could you hold onto this package until Halloween is over?

Tao: “This package” being…

Tao: … This box full of rosaries, chalices, and other sinister-looking things…?

Raito: They’re not sinister. If anything, they’re sacred. Everything in this box is things vampires are weak to.

Raito: But, as I’m about to become a vampire myself… I can’t sleep with things like these at my bedside.

Tao: … Is this part of the “acting as the perfect vampire” thing you were talking about when we went shopping?

Raito: Yeah, I want to give everyone a scare during the party, after all. You’re the only one I can ask this of… Please!

Tao: As long as all I gotta do is hold onto them, I don’t really mind…

Tao: Oh, but now that I think about it, vampires also don’t like garlic, right?

Tao: If you’re going this far, you won’t be able to eat that garlic miso ramen you’ve been hooked on lately…

Raito: Urgh…! Y-You’re right…! That was an oversight on my part…!

Raito: My body has become conditioned to me eating that ramen three times a week, what do I do…!

Tao: I’d say it’s best to quit doing that so you can stay healthy…

Tao: Oh. That reminds me, Chihiro said something about eating some eye-catching flavorful ramen the other day.

Tao: Pretty sure it had no garlic too.

Raito: What!? Does such a thing exist!?

Tao: Yes. While it may not pack the same punch as the garlic, it seems it has plenty of flavor from the back fat, so how about trying that instead?

Tao: And its soup is bright red for some reason. Kinda makes it sound like something a vampire would drink, right?

Raito: …! That’s the place that recently opened that I was looking into. That certainly sounds like the perfect ramen for me right now!

Raito: Thank you, Tao. I’ll go give it a try for dinner today.

Tao: Okay. Please let me know if it’s any good.

📍 HAMA House, Rooster room

Tao: I’m back— woah.

Tao: (… It’s been a few days, but I just can’t get used to Raito-san’s occult stuff in this room…)

Tao: (Actually, what even happened with that ramen I told him about? He hasn’t told me anything about it.)

Chihiro: Oh, TaoTao, listen to this!

Chihiro: Y’know that shop I told you about the other day? The one with the bright red soup!

Chihiro: There’s a vid featuring the shop called “A vampire ACTUALLY showed up!? (NOT CLICKBAIT)” that’s going super viral!

Tao: Huh…

Chihiro: It looks like real blood, and Halloween’s coming up, so maybe a vampire really did go there to have some!

Tao: Ha… haha, maybe…

Tao: (… Don't tell me.)

[bomberqueen17]

holding it down

currently am being held down in the chair by Chita, who was waiting patiently next to my recliner while i was in the other room packing up my clean laundry. I'm going back to the farm today, and need to leave sometime before noon to arrive in time for dinner. The only productive thing I really did this week is that last night I made a Vat of Borscht that i'm going to bring to serve for dinner tonight so my sister doesn't have to cook. anyway. Oop Chita just had enough of absorbing my body heat / qi (we joke that's what she's after, absorbing qi by sitting on people) and has transferred herself to the other chair, where she will sleep for six to ten hours without moving much. Her life is hard.

anyway wittering on behind cut

my dreamwidth crossposter broke so i should figure out how to set up an RSS thingy there, idk how to do that though. i think tumblr did something that broke how they do RSS and that's why the crossposter went down.

I'm trying Vyvanse again, a slightly higher dose. One pill a day, I can do. Yesterday I just felt scattered and ran around not getting things done. I did go double grocery shopping with Dude, and there was a Pokemon Go thing going on so I was catching cyndaquils while wandering through the grocery aisles, and i just-- sometimes I can feel that what I am doing is really bad for my attention span, and I could super feel that this was not helping me at all.

"I need to meditate," I said, sweating, on the ride home in the car. (It has been so hot. It was so hot yesterday. It was 87 and so humid and even with the ac in the car I was just sweating. ugh.)

"So meditate," Dude said, but I don't know how.

I probably should start writing in my journal again. I had been using a like day planner thing, and I was doing pretty poorly at it-- i'd write goals but they were never concretely connected to anything, and mostly I was writing down what I did after I did it, but at least that tied me to reality somewhat. So I should at least go back to that, I stopped the last week at the farm when things were so fucking hectic I didn't do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

I don't know if it helps but doing nothing doesn't help either.

And it's a lie to say I did nothing this past week. I was very off my game, but I did consult two different medical professionals for whatever that's worth, and I did manage to get past a huge writing block that's been deviling me for over a year really.

The horrible heat is supposed to break, which is good timing, because there is no climate control at the farm, and the only air-conditioned room is insufficiently conditioned and so is usually warmer than the surrounding spaces. I would have had a miserable week if I'd been there this past week, when it was over 90F most days and wasn't getting below 75F at night. (It was 81F here this morning at 6am, but it is supposed to rain and the day's high will only be 82. So.)

I did get some sewing done this week, though not as much as I wanted. I did a bunch of laundry. I did not clean the house or make any progress organizing any spaces, which were things I had wanted to do. But the writing, I can't describe how important getting that writing done was for me.

I'm having trouble being confident in my writing currently, a couple of scenes I feel are not emotionally true to what I was trying to say. I did rediscover some old notes though, and I think I've figured out what was bugging me in the Geralt/Emhyr scenes, and what I should work on with them. (I think the background information that Pavetta was an unhinged little gremlin monsterfucker and that was what formed Emhyr's id is really important and I have to work out how to incorporate that into everything going forward.)

I also keep finding myself yearning to write some original stuff. So we'll have to see, if I can get through the backlog of ideas in the Witcher stuff and start winding some of that up (??!!?!?!) then maybe there'd be some time to poke those ideas.

Anyway. Cat tax, here is what Chita looked like as I began this post, being a feline seat belt holding me into this chair:

[image description: small gray cat, head turned and eyes closed, is lying on my green-clad lap and has one paw outstretched toward the camera, touching the gray arm of the chair we're sitting in, holding me in position.]

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 7)

6.5k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, angst, slut-shaming and double standards, misogynist graffiti, pining, angst

Series Masterlist

I passed by that sign every day on my way to the Dog Track. Normally, it gave me a surge of pride when I saw it, this reminder of something I felt so proud and honored to be part of. But now, with those blood-red letters, it made my already broken heart die a little more.

It wasn’t as if this kind of treatment was new. Whenever my teams didn’t perform as well as expected or hoped for, suddenly we weren’t talented. Or we were dumb bitches. Or we were all on our periods. Not like when the men underperformed; then it was every excuse in the book from the horrible refs to the weather to their kitman used the wrong detergent that week.

But unlike all those other times, now I had actually done something to earn this treatment.

It wasn’t like I regretted sleeping with Roy. It was nice. He was nice. And if he was any other guy with any other job and any other reputation, I’d probably consider repeating the encounter. A few times, actually. But those ugly red letters reminded me of why it was one of the stupidest things I’d ever done.

“Come on,” Lucas urged, placing a hand on my arm. “Don’t want to be late.”

Don’t want to be late. Ha. More like don’t want to go to work today. Don’t want to face everyone at Nelson Road. Don’t want to be seen in public.

Don’t want to see Roy Kent.

Of course, I couldn’t avoid any of those things, thanks to the text Rebecca had sent me the night before, the text where she sent me that stupid, stupid article and told me to go straight to her office in the morning. Lucas and I wordlessly parted ways so he could go prepare for training while I trudged up to Rebecca’s office.

I stared at the door when I arrived upstairs. I wasn’t sure if I should knock. Or head in. Or turn around, run home, and pack my suitcase to head back to the States. Just as I was pondering the consequences of that last one, someone cleared their throat behind me.

And I’d have known that sound anywhere.

Roy’s eyes were pained when I turned to look at him. Mine were probably the same.

“Alright?” Before I could figure out an answer, he grimaced. “Fuck. Stupid fucking question.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I… It’s just… fuck.” His voice was that low, angry growl he used to use when we fought.

Never thought I’d miss fighting with Roy Kent.

The door opening caused me to jump, sending me a step closer to Roy, narrowly avoiding bumping into him. Rebecca’s face was stony as she looked us over, perfectly pink lips in a straight line. Her eyes, though, were soft, full of pity, especially when she caught sight of the miserable expression I assumed I wore.

“Best come in,” she murmured, nodding towards her office. She shut the door behind us, watching Roy and me carefully as we all took the seats around her desk. She leaned her elbows on her desk, eyes darting back and forth between Roy and myself. Finally, she opened her mouth. “I know that as your boss, it truly isn’t my business,” she started slowly. “But, considering the publicity that comes with your jobs, we should all agree on the best course of action. Now, as your friend, you don’t have to tell me if you-”

“We slept together.”

Roy’s mouth fell open as he stared at me, as if he couldn’t believe I’d said it so plainly. Rebecca simply raised her eyebrows at me.

I shrugged, forcing myself to look Roy in the eye. “What? Why deny anything? It’s what happened.” I turned back to Rebecca. “If they already have those pictures, there’s no use pretending. It’ll make us look pathetic if we try to lie. So unless you want us to deny anything happened, and then get caught in the lie when our stories don’t match, or they come up with photos of me leaving Kent’s place in the morning, let’s stick to the truth.” I let out a deep breath. “Kent and I slept together. It was consensual. We were both single at the time. The end.”

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Well. And, just for the sake of transparency between the three of us, was this a one-time thing? Or is this a regular occurrence?”

“A one-time thing,” I immediately replied, not looking at Roy. “That’s all.”

“Right.” Rebecca’s eyes flashed to Roy before returning to me. “I’ll call Keeley. We’ll work on a game plan, keep an eye on the headlines.” She sighed. “I’d love to say this’ll blow over in a day or so but… considering who you are-” She nodded to Roy. “-and the… uniqueness of your position-” She gestured towards me. “-this will probably be something we’ll be hearing about for a bit. Especially in the local press.” She shook her head. “Neither of you deserve this, of course. Believe me, I know quite a bit about how you feel, although I’m sure it’s no consolation.” She offered me a sad smile. “Why don’t you head on down to your team? I’m sure they’re anxious to see how you’re doing.”

I stood, not needing an excuse to get out of that room. With nothing but a small nod to Rebecca, I turned and did my best not to sprint out of the room, desperate to get away from those sad brown eyes.

~

Rebecca stared at Roy as they listened to the door close, leaving the two of them alone. It had been a while since they’d had a proper chat, just the two of them, but it seemed that Rebecca was still an expert in making Roy squirm with just a quirked eyebrow.

“One-time thing?”

“Hmmph.” Roy slouched in his chair and crossed his arms, wondering how long Rebecca would keep him in her office.

She tilted her head, pity evident on her face. “You… you don’t want it to be a one-time thing, do you Roy?”

Roy let out a growl of a sigh. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want,” he murmured. “It’s about her. This is her reputation, her career they’re fucking with. It’s different for her than for me. I need to respect what she wants.”

Rebecca’s face crumpled, her heart breaking at the pain she could see on her dear friend’s face. No amount of pep talks could help him now. At least, not one from her.

“I’m sorry, Roy,” was all she could manage. “I’m truly sorry.”

Feeling that this was enough of a dismissal, he stood and waved absently as he left her office. He slogged down to the changing room, where the Greyhounds were changing, their conversations much quieter than he was used to. That low chattering came to a stop the moment he entered the room, confirming that the guys had indeed been talking about him. He sighed and closed the door to the office, wanting a moment with just his team.

“Alright,” he started, gaze on the ceiling before looking at the fellas. “So, I’m sure you’ve all seen those stupid fucking photos. We’re not talking about that shit because it’s no one’s fucking business, and it was vile for someone to publish them. I hear any of you mention that shit, you’re suspended, because it’ll be hard to play with broken legs.” His voice lowered as he took in the faces of the Greyhounds- sadness, disgust, pity, anger. He knew his threats weren’t necessary, but he needed to feel like he was doing something. “And if any one of you breathes a fucking word of this to any of the Whippets or Coach Buck, you’ll be off this fucking team, and I will make it my personal mission to keep you out of the Premier League for the rest of your fucking life. Understand?”

After a moment of silence, Isaac stood up from his perch on the bench. “No one talks to the press,” he commanded. “Tell them they can fuck right off with their bullshit. We don’t condone this invasion of privacy or the misogyny they’re hurling at Coach Buck. We support her, and we support the Whippets, alright?”

Sam nodded. “We’ve got your back, Roy. Every single one of us. We all agree that this is disgusting.”

“Is she okay?” Jamie slouched in the corner of the changing room, looking at Roy as if the manager was an injured puppy.

Roy stared at Jamie, the striker’s timid voice ringing in his ears. Finally, he cleared his throat and yanked open his office door. “Weight room in five,” he barked. “Time to get to work.”

~

The Whippets were already on the field when I finally joined Lucas on the sideline. My walk from Rebecca’s office to the pitch was torture; no one would look me in the eye, a far cry from the wide smiles and waves I received walking through the Dog Track after each Whippet victory.

Lucas watched me carefully as I took my place beside him, tugging the sleeves of my Richmond jacket over my hands. The team slowed when they saw me but continued their drill; surely Lucas had spoken to them while I was upstairs.

“Bring them in,” I murmured, tugging the baseball hat I wore over my eyes.

“You don’t have to-”

I shook my head. “Bring them in.”

At the sound of the whistle, the Whippets jogged over, clustering around us with wide eyes and concerned frowns. I held their gazes, refusing to let my face tilt downwards. Once they were all together and quiet, I opened my mouth.

“We’re a team,” I started slowly. “And teams are built on trust and honesty. So, I’m not going to play pretend with you ladies. There’s photos, of me. And Coach Kent.” Some of the girls exchanged glances, but no one looked too shocked; they’d surely all already seen them. “Nothing scandalous, just us going into his house after the charity gala. But people can connect the dots. And people are starting to say shit about me.” I cleared my throat. “But my priority is you. The Whippets. So, let’s just keep our heads in the game, play the Richmond way, and be the team I know we are. Good deal?”

Kira Malone spoke up first. “We got you, Coach.”

The wholehearted murmurs of agreement finally had the lump in my throat threatening to turn into tears. “Thank you, Captain. Appreciate it.” I turned to Lucas, not trusting myself to look at the team for another moment. “Coach?”

Immediately, Lucas was calling for the ladies to return to training, which they promptly did. Once they were out of earshot, I let out the shaky breath I’d been holding. Lucas reached out and took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

“We’ve got you.”

As much as I’d dreaded coming to work, I had to admit it was kind of nice having something to focus my energy and attention on. It was nice thinking about something other than headlines saying things like “America’s Sweet-Tart Scores with Kent” or “He’s Here, He’s There, He’s Every-f*cking-where- including Coach Buck’s Bed!” I wasn’t sure what was worse: the headlines that screamed my name, or the headlines that didn’t bother giving me one.

It was evening when I got a text from George letting me know he’d be picking me up in five. He’d been great about the whole thing; we were having drinks when I got Rebecca’s text alerting me to the photos. He immediately offered to take me home and didn’t mind when I told him I wanted to be alone- which really meant I wanted to call Lucas and sit numbly in my best friend’s arms for an hour.

I gathered my things, looking forward to the relaxing night of movies and takeout George had offered to help take my mind off things. He really was the nicest guy I’d ever gone out with, really respectful and polite. The kind of guy who’d have my parents thrilled. The kind of guy who’d happily sit in the stands and watch my games. The kind of guy who made me feel comfortable and safe.

“Oi.”

That voice had me stopping dead in my tracks as I stepped into the parking lot. Roy Kent walked over from his car, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes scanning my face for any sign of whether or not I was going to run away from him. It was definitely a tempting option.

“So,” he started once he’d reached me, “I… I told my guys they’re not to say a fucking word about anything. Not to each other, not to the press, not to you. They’re idiots, but they’re not stupid.” He stared at me, his jaw clenched. “I… I am really fucking sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing,” I murmured, clutching my bag tightly. “You did nothing wrong, Kent.”

He nodded, as if he was trying to convince himself. “I know. Neither did you.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, that night was-”

“Ready to go?”

While Roy was talking to me, George’s car had pulled up next to us, and he was leaning out the window with that boyish grin, his eyes trained on my face pointedly. I swore I saw this eyes flicker to Roy for a fraction of a second, but I couldn’t be sure. What I was sure of was the way Roy tensed up the moment George’s voice reached us.

I gave my fellow manager a nod as I took a step towards George’s car. “I…. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

A grimace covered his face. “Yeah. Have a good night.”

With a little wave, I climbed into George’s car. My face flushed when George leaned over and planted a peck on my cheek; I stared straight ahead, not wanting to know if Roy saw, and not quite knowing why it bothered me. I slunk into my seat, glancing at the newspaper on the passenger seat floor.

“Love on the field? Coaches of AFC Richmond and its girls’ team caught in scandal!”

I sighed and leaned my head against the window, wishing that a night of movies and takeout could somehow make this whole mess disappear.

~

Doctor Sharon stared at Roy thoughtfully. It wasn’t like she didn’t know about what was happening; but goodness, to hear Roy mumble out the story about him and the manager he was clearly pining over and the debacle with these horrible photos was nothing short of pitiful. He’d spent much of their session ranting about his hatred for the press, how idiotic the headlines were, and how he wanted to punch the dicks of every photographer that had been lurking around the parking lot over the last week.

“… and now she’s got this, I dunno, fucking boyfriend,” Roy spat, his eyes glued to his shoes. “Fucking reporter, of all things. Prickiest prick that ever pricked.”

“I take it you don’t like him?” Doctor Sharon mused, raising an eyebrow.

Roy sat up a little. “He’s a prick,” Roy repeated.

Doctor Sharon nodded. “So I heard.” She stared at the gaffer for a moment. “Is that why you’re so angry? Her boyfriend isn’t a nice guy?”

There was a short pause before Roy opened his mouth again. “I just… I don’t fucking know.” He twiddled his thumbs. “She said she wanted space,” he sighed. “And I figured that she just wasn’t looking to date right now. Focus on coaching.” He blinked rapidly, his gruff voice quieting. “Guess now I know she just wasn’t interested in dating me.”

“And you wanted to date her?”

After a moment of staring at his shoes, Roy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I did.” His voice was thick. “I think… we would’ve been good together.”

A small smile appeared on Doctor Sharon’s face. “Thought you two hated each other?”

Her teasing tone was rewarded with the sight of Roy’s mouth lifting in the corner. “I thought so too,” he chuckled hollowly. “But I dunno. We were starting to get along. She’s fucking great with Pheobe. She split that charity money with me.” His eyes shifted, full of thoughts. “We had a good time at the gala.” He nodded. “She made me laugh. Dancing with her was nice. And afterwards, we just, you know, had a drink, talked about football.” He sighed, a heavy sound that filled the office. “Talked about being injured, retiring, all that shit. It was, I don’t fucking know, real. She fucking understood. Didn’t look at me with pity.” He looked away from Doctor Sharon’s face, his own face reddening. “And the… other stuff was pretty nice too.” Another sigh escaped his lips. “Just, for the first time since Keeley, I felt like I might have found someone. Someone who, I dunno.” He looked Doctor Sharon in the eye. “You know?”

“A partner?” Doctor Sharon offered.

“Yeah.” Roy cleared his throat. “A partner.”

Roy wasn’t sure how he felt when he left Doctor Sharon’s office. He didn’t feel better, but at least he didn’t feel worse. Mostly he felt heard, which he had to admit was nice. As he made his way back down to his office to pack up his things, the wheels in his head started turning. One of the things he told Doctor Sharon was how fucking helpless he felt, how he felt like he wanted to do something.

When he reached his office, that something occurred to him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Roy?” Trent Crimm’s voice was filled with confusion. “Something wrong?”

“You’re really asking me that?” Roy’s eyebrow quirked with amusement. “You haven’t seen the fucking headlines?”

Trent laughed, and Roy could just picture the writer adjusting his glasses. “No, I have. I’m just a bit surprised you’re calling me. How’re you holding up by the way?”

Roy sat at his desk and leaned back. “Not answering that one,” he grumbled. He glanced at the empty Whippets’ office. “I… need a favor.”

“What’s up?”

He leaned his elbows on his desk. The wheels in his head were spinning faster than they had in a long time. “All this bullshit with those photos,” he said slowly. “Would you be able to… find out where that came from?” The long pause on Trent’s end had him continuing. “I know there’s like journalistic integrity- fucking oxymoron by the way- but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“You’re not…” Trent cleared his throat. “… going to kill anyone are you?”

That year at the Dog Track had truly helped Trent understand Roy. “No, nothing like that,” Roy assured him. “I just… I don’t really know why I want to know,” he admitted, his gaze again on the office next door, on the chair she normally occupied. “I just need to know.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll buy you a new scrunchie or some shit,” he offered.

Trent’s laugh eased some of Roy’s tension. “Well if there’s a new scrunchie involved…” He paused. “But sure, Roy. I could do some sniffing around. Just don’t make me an accessory to murder, alright?”

“Promise,” Roy assured him. “Thanks, Trent.”

~

The parking lot had never been so filled with people before a Whippets game. I’d love to think it was because of our multitude of wins, or the charisma and skill of our players, or just because women’s soccer was growing in popularity. But once I saw the cameras, I knew better.

Sure enough, as Lucas and I walked towards the doors to the stadium, those people started shouting my name, along with questions about whether I’d slept with Roy Kent, if there was any tension at the Dog Track because of all this, how Roy was in bed. My personal favorite was, Have you guys done it here at Nelson Road?

Lucas placed a hand on my back and urged me inside, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

“Fucking scum,” he muttered as we made our way down the hall. “Let’s see them ask Kent those kinds of questions at the Greyhounds’ game tomorrow.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder as we made our way to our office. “Ignore them, Luke. Let’s just focus on getting the win.”

Even with the scandal, the stands were still packed. Or maybe it was because of the scandal; while standing in the tunnel, I swore I could “slag” being shouted over and over again from one section of the stadium.

“Fuck,” I whispered, gripping Lucas’s hand tightly.

He shook his head at me. “This is ridiculous,” he spat, tugging out his phone with his free hand. “I’ll text Rebecca, they need to be fucking thrown out.”

Doing my best to focus on the task at hand, I released Lucas and stepped out onto the green, keeping my eyes on the Whippets. When I heard particularly loud chanting begin, I blocked it out, straining to pick out a familiar voice. Keeley’s. Rebecca’s. Higgins’s. Hell, even Roy Kent’s growl would have been welcomed. But this certain chanting was so loud, it was almost enough to make me turn around and spend the game in the changing room- something I’d never dream of doing.

Maybe the papers were right. Maybe my career was over.

Dammit. I couldn’t cry on the field. I’d seen A League of Their Own; there’s no crying in baseball, and not in soccer either. The only tears I shed in uniform were tears of joy when I won. But the shouts, the knowledge that apparently everyone in Richmond, everyone in England, thought I was a slut for one admittedly lovely night with Roy freaking Kent, was enough to have me breaking my no crying in soccer rule.

“Bucky,” Lucas said, apparently not for the first time. “Bucky.” He was turned around, facing the seats behind the dugout.

I blinked rapidly and looked at my assistant coach, who was- wait, was he smiling?

Lucas was shaking his head, an amused chuckle escaping his wide mouth. He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around, pointing about halfway up the stands. The sight had me almost breaking my no crying rule, but for a completely different reason.

About two dozen men were on their feet, shouting “Let’s go Whippets!” and clapping rhythmically. I recognized the giant grins of Jamie Tartt, Dani Rojas, Isaac McAdoo, Colin Hughes- all the Greyhounds, each one clad with a white Whippets jersey. When Jamie saw me watching them, he jumped up and down and started smacking the guys next to him. Quickly, they all turned around, showing off the back of their kits: each one was adorned with the number six- my old number when I represented the United States- and five simple letters: B-U-C-K-Y.

“What the hell are they doing?” I gasped, shaking my head.

“I think,” Lucas hummed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving me a squeeze, “that they are letting you know they’ve got you.” He pulled me close. “We’ve all got you.”

~

Roy couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered as he looked at his phone while walking through the parking lot. Fuck, how he wished he’d been there on Saturday. When Isaac and Jamie came to him, expressing how they wanted some way to show the Whippets their support, Roy’d suggested they attend that weekend’s match. It was Isaac who came up with the idea to wear the team kits, and Jamie had thought of adding her name to the back. The guys had invited him to join them, of course, but he’d declined; he knew his presence would only add to the media circus the match would be.

The boys had provided Keeley with plenty of material for both teams’ social media. Sam had posted a video of a gorgeous Whippet goal with the caption “One of the best matches I’ve seen in a while! #RichmondWhippets”. There was Jamie’s selfie with a few players (including a blushing Kira Malone), simply saying “These girls got game!”. Particularly amusing was Colin’s picture with a Whippet from Wales, accompanied by a paragraph on Welsh independence and another paragraph on women’s sports.

But Roy’s favorite post had to be from Dani Rojas, a photo of him with the Whippets’ manager, with the simple caption “Ella es dorada 🥇”. She looked happy. Proud. Brave. Not to mention stunning in her blazer and red lipstick.

But he couldn’t focus on that. It was a new week of training, and he had a text from Rebecca summoning him to her office.

He winced on the stairs, his knee aching, and made a mental note to go easy on it all day. Could stress cause his injury to flare up? He’d have to look that up. He finally arrived at Rebecca’s office, strolling right in when he saw the open door.

Rebecca and Keeley sat on the couch, speaking in hushed tones. They perked up when they saw him, almost as if they hadn’t expected him to show up.

“Good morning, Roy,” Keeley chirped, clearly trying to keep her voice cheery. “Great game yesterday. You boys looked great.”

He grunted in response before turning to Rebecca. “You needed to talk to me?”

Rebecca sat up, straightening her blouse. “Just… checking in.” She offered that tense smile of hers, the one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How are you doing?”

Roy shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. I mean, I’m not the one getting all the shit press, am I?” He thought of the headlines and tweets he’d been seeing, double entendres and dirty rhymes and just straight up insults. Somehow, even worse, were the posts from idiots praising Roy for the whole thing, as if two adults having sex was some sort of accomplishment.

“Sure,” Rebecca said slowly. “But still. I know things aren’t exactly great for you right now.”

Right. It wasn’t a secret around Nelson Road that one of the managers was in the early stages of a relationship- and that manager definitely wasn’t Roy Kent. She wasn’t exactly flaunting things, but George often picked her up at work. He called her sometimes during the day, just to check in. Worst of all, the prick even brought her lunch to her office a couple of times, offering Roy a smug grin as he passed through the Greyhounds’ office.

Keeley knew Roy well enough to practically read his mind. “I’m sorry, Roy,” she sighed. “Just give it time. Things’ll get better, you’ll see.”

Roy shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling sick of this pity party his friends had decided to throw him. “If there’s nothing else, can I head to my office? So I can do my job?”

Amazingly enough, Rebecca smiled, a real smile. “Yes. There’s actually something in your office. A little surprise.” She glanced at Keeley, who suddenly broke into a matching grin. “Something that’s going to either cheer you up or positively piss you off.”

Frowning at the sudden attitude change, Roy nodded to the two women before walking out. Fucking weirdos.

He stalked down the stairs, down the hall, wondering what the hell Rebecca had meant about a surprise. Shit, had Keeley attempted to redecorate the offices again? Because he was still finding glitter from last time. He swore, if she replaced his chair with some fluffy monstrosity-

Roy froze when he opened the door and was greeted by a mustachioed smile.

“Howdy, Coach.”

~

“Right, so if we start Frankie and Brogan next week-”

Lucas and I froze in the doorway. There was an unfamiliar man in my office, staring at my Brandi Chastain poster. With everything going on, Rebecca was wary of letting reporters she didn’t trust wander around unsupervised; there was no way she’d let some stranger meander into my office.

“Excuse me,” I started, taking a step into my office. “Can I help-”

The man turned around, offering a broad grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hi there.”

Without ever meeting him, I realized exactly who I was talking to. “Oh gosh, you’re Coach Lasso.”

“Guilty!” he chuckled, leaning forward to shake my hand, then Lucas’s. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be Snoop Doggie-Dogging in your office, just admirin’ your magazine here.” He nodded towards Brandi. “Great little piece of history you got up there.”

I nodded, still a bit dazed at the realization that I was finally face to face with the Ted Lasso. “Yeah, yeah, she’s one of my heroes.” I cleared my throat. “Oh, I’m-”

Ted shook his head. “Oh, I know exactly who y’all are,” he assured me. “I mean, when Becca- uh Rebecca- told me she was hirin’ y’all, I’m embarrassed to admit I only sort of knew your name from when you were in the World Cup. But my son Henry, well when he watches American soccer, he prefers to watch the NWSL. So, he gave me a proper education on all things Coach Buck.” Somehow, his smile widened, filling his face even more than his mustache did. “Don’t suppose I can get an autograph for him while I’m here? Kid’s pretty jealous I get to meet ya.”

Don’t suppose I can get an autograph for him while I’m here?

He had no idea how badly I needed those words.

“Oh, yeah, definitely.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “No worries, I can do that.”

In my peripheral vision, I could see Roy enter the Greyhounds’ office. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a moment, the way they seemed to be doing a lot these days, before we both quickly broke eye contact- the way we seemed to be doing a lot these days.

I cleared my throat and smiled at Ted. “Listen, we’ve got to get to training. And I know you probably want to spend time with Beard and Rebecca and…” My eyes shot to Roy again, trailing over his bearded face as he focused on something on his desk. “….everyone.” I made myself look at Ted, whose expression was amused. “But, uh, think I could buy you a drink while you’re in town? American manager to American manager?”

Ted shrugged. “Shoot, those guys’ve all seen me a million times. Why don’t we grab that drink tomorrow night? Say, there’s this one place I love, the Crown and Anchor. You know it?”

“Uh, yeah, been there once or twice.” I shook Ted’s hand. “It’s a date, Coach Lasso.”

His brown eyes sparkled teasingly. “A date? Don’t forget my corsage then!”

~

Roy’s stomach twisted as he walked from the park to his car after his workout with Jamie. It was unfair, so fucking unfair. What had she done wrong that he hadn’t? They’d both danced. They’d both gone into his house. They’d both had whiskey and commiserated over their finished playing careers. They’d both had an incredible night together. And yet, she was the only one being punished for it.

With a heaving growl, he reached up and grabbed at the corners of the poster. He’d apologize to Rebecca later; he just couldn’t bear to see those vulgar words, not when they were aimed at her. He pulled down as hard as he could, harder than was really necessary, relishing the harsh ripping sounds. As he crumpled up the poster into a ball, he heard another sound: click, click, click.

He whipped around; sure enough, a camera was aimed at him, held by some young guy in a backwards baseball cap. The kid blinked at Roy, as if he didn’t expect the gaffer to look at him. When Roy took a few steps in his direction, the photographer took the same number of steps backwards.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Roy spat as he picked up his pace, closing the distance between them. Without thinking, he threw the balled-up poster at the photographer, not hard enough to cause any injury, but hard enough that it bounced off and rolled a respectable distance away.

“M-my job-”

Roy’s laugh was sharp. “Your job?” He pointed at the spot where the poster had been. “You pricks are making her job- my job- harder to do, you fucking know that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re just trying to coach fucking football, but we’ve got you twats acting like we’re Brangelina or some shit.” He shook his head, picking up the trash he’d thrown. “This fucking shit written on the poster? That’s your fault. Every. Single. One. Of. You.” He roughly brushed past the photographer and shoved the ball into a trash bin. “You can all go fuck yourselves.”

By the time he arrived at work, Roy was mostly calmer. For Roy, at least. He was unsurprised to see Ted was already at Nelson Road; he was amused to realize his old coworker was coming from Rebecca’s office.

“Morning, Ted,” Roy rumbled, quirking a thick eyebrow at the American.

Ted’s face reddened at the sight of Roy. “Good morning, Roy.” He fell into step beside his former player. “Mind if I join you?” Roy’s grunt was good enough for him. Ted pointed at a photo of the Whippets squad as they passed it. “Amazing, this whole women’s team thing. Becca’s really outdone herself. Keeley too,” he quickly added. His smile turned teasing. “How’re the fellas doing with it? Bein’ respectful, I hope?”

Roy nodded. “They’re fucking fine,” he assured Ted. “There’s some flirting sometimes, and Jamie’s got this weird will-they-won't-they thing going on with their captain. But everyone gets on just fine.”

“What about you?” Ted waggled his eyebrows at Roy as they entered the office. “Any cutie patootie Alex Morgan-type catch your eye?”

“No,” Roy answered, a bit too quickly as his gaze travelled to the empty Whippets office, where he’d watched Ted talk to their manager the day before.

Of course, Ted’s gaze followed his. “Ah.” His eyes lit up. “That coach of theirs sure is somethin’, ain’t she? Gold medal, World Cup, hell of an NWSL coach. And pretty darn easy on the eye, huh?” His face softened when he caught sight of Roy squirming. “And I haven’t heard all the scuttlebutt, but my understanding is something happened between her and a certain Greyhound?”

“Can we not fucking talk about this?” Roy mumbled, eyes darting to the door when he heard footsteps coming from the hallway.

“Later then,” Ted promised Roy as Beard and Nate came into view, lighting up at the sight of Ted. “We can talk about this later.”

Fucking hell. Roy hated knowing that Ted would keep his fucking word.

After training ended for the day, he rushed out of Nelson Road, hoping to avoid that talk Ted promised him. As he stepped into the parking lot, he saw a familiar ponytail, just before its wearer put up her hood to shield herself from a paparazzo.

“Come on, Bucky,” the photographer tutted as his camera clicked. “Just one smile, come on.”

Fists clenched, jaw set, Roy took a step towards them. “Oi. Fuck d’you think you’re doing?” It was aggravating how familiar this felt today; it was even worse to see it aimed at her.

The photographer aimed his camera at Roy. “Say cheese, Kent,” he hummed.

With a scowl, he stormed forward and, not for the first time in his life, snatched the offending camera. He ripped out the SD card. He let the camera drop to the floor with a crash before he held the card up to the paparazzo’s face and snapped it in half.

“Leave. Her. Alone,” he growled, shoving the SD card pieces into his jacket pocket. “She is a fucking Olympic gold medalist, you twat. Would you treat fucking Jason Kenny or Michael Phelps that way? I don’t fucking think so.” He pulled out his wallet and took out a few bills, throwing them on the floor with the broken camera. “Stop hounding her. Get a fucking life.”

Roy glowered as he watched the photographer scamper off without either the broken camera or the cash, back to whatever pit of hell he’d slinked out of. Once the scum was out of sight, Roy turned around to see a pair of wide eyes already staring at him. He grimaced at her, his tense shoulders softening.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know you don’t need me to defend you. You can handle yourself. I know that.” When she didn’t say anything, he rambled on. “And I bet having me come to your rescue isn’t exactly the most helpful story to have in the press. But fuck.” He shrugged, kicking a stray rock. “Sick of the way they treat you,” he sighed. “Like you did some horrible thing. And then they either leave me alone or, worse, act like I won some prize. It’s fucking nuts.” He shook his head. “You don’t deserve- It’s all so- I’m just fucking-”

Roy nearly jumped out of his skin when she reached forward and touched his hand, gently taking it in hers and giving it a small squeeze.

“Thank you.”

His mouth went dry as he gulped, immediately missing the warmth of her hand as she pulled back. “You’re welcome,” he managed.

She glanced at her watch. “I gotta go,” she murmured. “Got a date.” There was a hint of a teasing lilt to her voice, one that was almost friendly enough to stop Roy’s heart from sinking at the word date.

“With your boyfriend?” It took all his strength not to spit out the word.

Her eyes somehow grew wider. “Oh, no, he’s not my boyfriend.” Fuck, she said that quickly. “And I was joking about the date thing. I’m actually taking Coach Lasso out for a beer.” She shrugged, a ghost of playfulness in her eye. “Find out what all the fuss is about. See what’s so great about him.”

Roy couldn’t help the way the corner of his mouth ticked upwards. “Let me know if you find out,” he joked, his heart fluttering at their first real conversation since the photos came out. “I’m still trying to understand it.”

Before she could say something- something clever, probably- the doors opened, and Ted emerged, raising an eyebrow when he saw the two managers standing so close to one another.

“You joining us for a pint, Roy?” Ted asked, nodding eagerly. “It’d be great if you did! Three’s Company, after all. We could use a Janet.” He turned to Bucky. “Unless you want to be Janet. Then we��d need a Chrissy.”

“Let me know if you figure out what the hell he just said,” Roy mumbled, giving her a gentle shove with his shoulder, not caring if Ted could hear him. “Good luck.”

“Bye, Roy.” She turned to Ted. “Let’s go get that pint.”

Roy watched as the two Americans walked off, immediately diving into an intense conversation about some 1970s sitcom. Despite the shit day he’d had, he couldn’t help but feel good when he climbed into his car. As he gripped the steering wheel, he stared at his hand, the one she’d touched. He couldn’t help the involuntary flex he gave, the words he’s not my boyfriend floating around in his head. Sure, he was still hurting, he was still in absolute agony. But for the first time in a while, probably since he first saw her with that prick journalist, Roy Kent also felt hope.

~

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111 @bonesbonesetc @seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725 @timelordhunterandmysterysolver@littleesilvia @anonurs @itswhateveripromise @chewymoustachio @gcidrvsh @katdahlali

[jaybird3756]

Nobody in this fic is okay

HTTYD RTTE fanfic S3.11 Family on the edge

---Dagur makes a suicide joke, Heather does not take it well.

!! Trigger Warnings for discussions of s/h and suicidal thoughts!!

Ik this is the episode everyone and their dog has made fanfics about but I do not care. I'm planning for 3 chapters, still unsure if I'm gonna go with good ending or bad ending. Everyone in this fic is or has been suicidal: This part is Dagur and Hiccup, next part will be with Heather and Dagur because I want this entire family to have issues, and the third part will touch on some other riders but for sure the twins.

"Hiccup Haddock, I cannot believe you kept my Heather from me! I was so worried; was she alive, was she dead; was she even okay?" Dagur whined, rubbing his jaw where Heather had hit him moments earlier.

Hiccup did not get a chance to respond before Heather asked, "How could you bring him here?" She pointed at Dagur with her axe. "Did you forget all the horrible things he's done to me, to all of us?!"

"No Heather, but he saved my life and Toothless' life" Hiccup protested. He protectively stepped between the two siblings, extending an arm to keep Heather from attacking Dagur again.

"How can you protect him Hiccup? How can you trust him? How could you teach him to ride a dragon?" Heather interjected. She glared at Dagur, dark green eyes fuming with hatred. "You set me adrift as a child! You killed our father! You destroyed my village and killed my adoptive parents! You've tried to kill each of us multiple times! You're the reason I don't have a family, Dagur!!"

Dagur couldn't meet her gaze, instead looking guiltily down at his feet. "Most, if not all of those things are true, but-"

"Save it for someone who's gullible enough to believe you! You may have all of them fooled, but not me!" Heather sneered. At her brother's dejected look, she huffed and turned to leave saying, "I wish you were dead, Dagur."

Dagur took a half step back. He knew Heather must have hated him and she did have good reason to, but hearing that was like a punch to the gut. "Trust me Heather, I understand the sentiment, I do. I wish that too sometimes," He said with a half-hearted chuckle, trying to hide the hurt from her complete rejection of him.

Heather stiffened and stopped in her tracks, still facing the door. She whirled on him in an instant, brushing past Hiccup to grab Dagur harshly by the collar. "Don't you ever joke about something like that! You have no idea what it was like for me! How I felt, all alone; you can't joke-"

"It wasn't a joke" Dagur interrupted somberly, staring her straight in the eyes. The other riders were silent, shocked by Dagur's admission.

"What?" Heather dropped her accusatory tone and angry glare. She let go of his collar and looked at her brother's face. She recognized the look of pain and hopelessness in his eyes and she knew he wasn't lying. She had thought he was, had wished he was, but the sorrowful expression on his face seemed just too genuine.

"I know I sounded like I was joking, but I wasn't. I wouldn't ever joke about something like that."

"Then you-" Heather started to ask a question, the question on everyone's minds.

"Yes" Dagur answered before she'd even figured out how to ask that question. 

The clubhouse was dead silent, not even Chicken dared make a sound. Dagur looked past Heather to Hiccup, who wouldn't even look at him. Instead Hiccup was looking downwards and fidgeting with a leather strap on his wrist guard. 

Then Dagur continued speaking, spilling out more secrets than he would have liked, if only to not have to sit in that uncomfortable silence. 

"I've thought about... death a lot. Ever since I was little. I mean, no one liked me, some people went out of their way to make me miserable and sometimes I just wanted a way out. I wanted to make them hurt, make them regret the things they did to me. I wanted to hurt them, make them bleed and suffer or..." Dagur whispered, "I'd want to hurt myself. I was just so angry. Sometimes I'd hurt others and I regret that now, but sometimes I'd take it out on myself. Just to feel something other than anger all the time." 

Dagur sniffled and brought his hands to his forehead, trying to hide the tears beginning to form in his eyes. "And it. Never. Got. Better" He almost growled. "I'd take it out on anyone around me and when no one wanted to be around me anymore..." He crossed his arms and rubbed at his bracers and forearms.

Heather knew Dagur had a lot of scars and assumed they were from fights. A picture came to her of a much younger Dagur sitting on his bed angrily slashing red strips into his arms with the very same knives he still carried around. She wanted to hate him but now she just felt sad for him.

"So many times after losing a battle I'd wonder if the Berserkers would be better off without a failure like me. I led them into battle against trained dragons when we had wooden boats! I was a shitty chief and a shitty leader and I knew it. I just didn't want anyone else to know that I knew. So I just doubled down and look where that got me. So many times in Outcast prison I just wished I was dead already. I kept waiting and wishing I would die of blood loss, or infection, or internal injuries before Alvin came back to play with me again. But I never did. Even after I escaped I just wanted to give up. I mean I had nothing anymore, no power, no gold, no armada, no throne, and no home. I couldn't even stay in the archipelago because I'd made so many enemies that if anyone found me, I'd be executed or worse. I wasn't able to sleep again, so I just sat awake at night plotting revenge but sometimes I just wanted to go home so badly I wouldn't have cared that I'd probably be killed immediately. I'd have just let them."

Dagur looked up at Heather expecting to see disgust or cruel amusement and was instead met with shock and concern. That was almost worse. He could handle being ridiculed (maybe), but he hated being pitied. 

"The only thing that made it any better was you, Heather" He explained. "Because you were alive an even though I orphaned you twice, I couldn't even think of ending myself anymore. If I did, I'd have taken your family from you three times and I'd definitely be the worst brother ever. Even if you hated me, even if you ended up killing me yourself, I knew I couldn't do that to you. When I was stranded on that island for months, thinking about all the awful things I'd done, I wanted to throw myself from one of the cliffs or put my sword to one final use but every time I almost did, I thought of leaving you all alone in the world and I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

He took a step towards Heather and put a hand on her shoulder plates. "You don't need to waste your energy wanting me dead, I do more than enough of that on my own. And I'm really sorry, for everything." He turned to leave, unsure of what else he should say.

"Dagur, wait-" Heather called after him, but Dagur had already started to cry and he wanted out of there as quickly as possible. "Good Night." He said with a finality that made it clear there would be no more talking. 

Once out of the clubhouse, he leaned against the wall and wiped the tears from his eyes. Stupid Dagur, why'd you say any of that? Now everybody knows. He scolded himself as he slunk off into the night to find Shattermaster. He used to think it was stupid to have an animal as a best friend but right now he wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his dragon's pebbly scales.

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

Back in the clubhouse everyone was still absolutely quiet, even the twins, trying to process what they'd just heard.

"Someone's got to go after him," Astrid was the first to speak up. 

Heather turned to look at her, then to Hiccup. She still had a stunned look on her face "I- I- uh..." She didn't even know what she was trying to say but clearly Hiccup knew what she needed more than she did.

"I'll go." He volunteered, quickly leaving the clubhouse. Toothless warbled and followed close behind. 

Hiccup found Dagur on the landing platform outside the stables. He was sitting on the edge, feet dangling over empty air below him and leaning against Shattermaster's side. Hiccup felt a twinge of alarm seeing Dagur's precarious sitting position. As soon as Toothless had his paws on the ground, Hiccup jumped out of the saddle and grabbed Dagur by the back of his chestplate and pulled as hard as he could, dragging the berserker back from the edge of the platform. 

Dagur twisted free of him and glared at Hiccup, wiping away the tears in his eyes and asking, "So what? I'm not allowed to sit where I want now?" The unexpected harshness in Dagur's tone made Hiccup flinch a little. "You finally stop treating me like I'm a danger to everyone else so now you're going to handle me like I'm a danger to myself?"

"Dagur that's not what I-" Hiccup tried to defend himself, realizing that his worry had come off patronizing and had really rubbed Dagur the wrong way. 

"Going to take my weapons now? Afraid of what I might do with them? Would you like my belt while you're at it?" He sneered. "I don't need you trying to protect me."

"I'm sorry." Hiccup sat down next to him. "I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah, obviously" he mumbled back. 

Hiccup looked out over the view from the stables. The moonlight illuminated the sea below them. After a moment Hiccup said, "I want you to know, I don't think any differently of you. I'm sorry you went through what you did but I don't think any worse of you now that I know. I've been through some rough patches where I felt like that too."

"Felt like killing yourself? I thought so." Dagur said flatly.

Hiccup flinched, "What? How did you know?"

"Come on, brother. I saw you growing up. No friends, too weak to defend yourself, everyone thinking you're a disgrace to Stoick. I'd be more surprised if you hadn't thought of..." Dagur paused, "well, you know."

Hiccup was more than a little shocked. "That's pretty much it. I was always a disappointment. I felt like no one actually wanted...," Hiccup gestured to all of himself, "all of this. I heard people call me a burden all the time. Sometimes I think I did something so crazy as befriending a dragon because I felt like no one would care if I got eaten anyways." Hiccup scratched under Toothless's chin. "Sometimes I think that without Toothless, I'd still be that scrawny kid with no place in this world."

Dagur nodded. "I get that. But now you're the scrawny pride of Berk!" He said with a genuine crazy Dagur laugh.

"Hey!" Hiccup punched Dagur in the arm and smiled.

"I used to be so angry that you chose a dragon over me", Dagur explained, petting his green gronkle. "But now I get it. I've only had Shattermaster a day and it feels like he's already my best friend. He makes an excellent mediation partner too, you know."

"Toothless is my best friend" Hiccup agreed. "He was the first one who accepted me for who I was. We'll always have a special bond. There's just something comforting about a dragon; they don't judge you, they can't tell people your secrets, and they're always going to give you the love you give them."

"People are overrated anyway", Dagur said dismissively. 

"Well, there are some good ones if you know where to look." Hiccup looked over to the clubhouse; Dagur turned his head to look too. "But mostly I do agree, that the average dragon definitely beats the average viking for me." 

"Good thing I'm not the average viking then." Dagur chuckled.

Hiccup laughed, "Oh no you're not an average viking, that's for sure!" They both burst out laughing together. 

"Oh you bring the funny brother," Dagur said when they'd finally stopped laughing. "It's really nice out here tonight."

"Yeah it's a really nice night." Hiccup said. Toothless' ear fins pricked up and he looked at Hiccup. "I think I'm going to go for a night flight with Toothless, wanna come?"

"No thanks, I don't think I'm ready to fly at night yet." 

"Oh," Hiccup sighed. "Do you want me to stay here then, I mean are you okay to leave alone, I'll stay if you need?" He offered, still slightly worried about Dagur.

"Hiccup. Stop." Dagur scowled. "I'll be fine."

Hiccup trailed off, embarrassed that he'd tried to baby Dagur again. "Sorry, I did it again. Goodnight Dagur" Hiccup climbed on Toothless and took off into the night sky. 

"Goodnight brother," Dagur whispered into the night behind him. As he looked down over the edge of the platform again, Shattermaster yawned and snuggled next to him. Now that he had his own dragon, and Hiccup and Heather, it finally felt like he had something real to lose if he were to jump. He knew his tribe would be fine without him, but his brother and sister wouldn't be and the dragon he'd come to see as a best friend would miss him as well. He got up, walked away from the edge of the platform and led his dragon into the stables to sleep for the night. Dagur considered going to sleep in the stables with Shattermaster, but remembered the odd behavior of the riders that day. 

He was glad Hiccup was off flying, and thus away from his hut. Dagur needed to do some snooping around. He was right about one thing, he had way too much to lose now.

[joshriku]

ages ago i asked for prompts on twitter and i think ava had requested cherik + bodyswap, and i forgot i wrote that til i found it looking at my files so i figured i'd also post it here ages later lol it's too short for ao3! but perfect length for tumblr.

-

“I don't know how you do it,” says Charles. 

His voice—it's Erik's, no doubt. Words coming from his mouth, his body. His body, that Charles is currently inhabiting. 

“Do what?” asks Erik, with—with his voice, God damn it. This whole situation is so strange. 

It's supposed to wear off in a few hours, said the other teachers. Just a mutant learning to control their powers, nothing else. But now Charles is Erik, and Erik is Charles, and it's been the most insanity-inducing hours of his life. They haven't left Charles' room, as they decided to spend this ordeal as quietly as possible: in bed, reading. 

“This. Alone with your thoughts,” Charles says. “I'm miserable. And overstimulated, even though I am not doing anything. It's…” 

So much. His skin is prickly, impossible to touch. He can sense the clock ticking—not just the one inside the mansion, but everyone's. Phones buzzing or vibrating. The kitchen. Jewelry. The televisions. The satellites. The cities further away. The core of the Earth—

Erik takes his hand. Charles takes a moment to note how different his own hand is, when he's being touched—this is not comforting. So many times he's held someone, held a student, tried to comfort them with a gesture. And now that he's being comforted by his body—God, he should never be close to people.

“Breathe in,” Erik tells him. “Narrow your focus to one thing. Try your wheelchair.”

It's such a big power. To narrow it to something so small like his wheelchair feels like an impossible task, but then he notices a little helping hand: it's sloppy and careless, but the undeniable sensation of a telepathic push. Erik’s not good at it—good God, how is he holding up with all those voices?—but he’s good enough to guide Charles to his objective.

His body slumps against the bed, once the world is reduced to just the wheelchair.

“How do you do it?” Charles repeats. “It’s so quiet. It’s so lonely. And this power—it’s too great, I’m afraid. How does your body not fall apart? How does your mind not fall apart? How do you—”

Erik cuts him off. “I am wondering the same thing about you, as we speak. There is so much noise. People cannot stop thinking, not even for one second. How do you not go insane?”

He supposes the same questions he asked have the same answer Charles would give Erik: you get used to it. You settle into it like a second skin, until one day you no longer get to think about it.

“You get used to it,” he says, although he knows Erik must have heard it, anyway. His grip on Charles’ telepathy isn’t that good—Charles presumes he doesn’t know how to leave his mind. Erik hums anyway. “I suppose it’s more impressive right now, to be in a body where—it’s truly yours. Mine, it feels like it shares a bit with every single person. I cannot stop myself from seeing through their lenses, even for a second. I guess being alone right now—truly and well alone, it just… makes me wonder. How you don’t go insane. How you talk to people, how you are such a good judge of character. I can only be one because of my powers, and even then, I can go so wrong.”

Erik raises an eyebrow in his direction. It’s so odd, looking at his face. Does Charles really look like this? No wonder he got into so many arguments. He’s rather annoyed at that face.

“Funny, again. I have been pondering that myself. If I could listen to every thought, every sentiment, and every motivation behind someone’s actions—well, perhaps I’d become a hermit. It takes incredible strength to do this. I admire you.”

Charles smiles a little. “I suppose we are both so exceptional,” he says. He squeezes Erik’s hand again, trying to focus on Erik’s body, wanting to be held by it instead. “Only a few more hours to go.”

“Maybe we won’t go insane in three hours,” Erik smiles back. “Who knows? We have got plenty of time.”

[marc--chilton]

okay Yes big big fan of house nesting when he’s sad/lonely but also finding it demeaning. like he just HAS to make himself miserable it’s his fav hobby.

what iffff during a particularly bad time (bad pain day, case gone awry, etc etc.) house shuts himself up in his apartment & nests, because all he wants is to be curled up with wilson but he figures this is as good as he’ll get. but then wilson (sensing that something is off) comes to check on House and finds him curled up in his nest,,,,, like would he comfort house & try to look after him?? if so would house let him?? or would he just pretend he never saw it (even though he reallyyyy wanted to intervene) so that it didn’t cross any boundaries?? what if house heard him come into the room & then leave?? what if house whined & asked him to stay in the smallest saddest voice?? what if house tried to push wilson away and wilson refused and said he’s not going anywhere????? !! ??

i’m in desperate need for some hurt comfort hilson omegaverse angst 😔🤙🏻

KILLING ME SOFTLY WITH THIS ONE BESTIE

____________

In the burrow of dirty laundry and throw blankets, the sound of gentle knocks hardly came through. Faintly, he heard his own name being called from the hall. House didn't move to answer but the whine that left his dry throat came out unbidden anyway.

Go away, he wanted to growl. Isn't someone's home supposed to be their sanctuary?

Even if that were true, Wilson always had a spare set of keys.

The traitorous lock giving way still managed to be deafening even when House went the extra mile to crush his head under the pillows he'd stowed away in this shitty little stress-nest. He pressed it harder against his ear the closer those Oxfords came, biting back another whine when Wilson beckoned again. The bedroom door opened wider, silent except for the one spot in the hinge where it creaked softly.

"I saw your bike, I know you're h-- oh."

As if it couldn't get any more mortifying. House couldn't see him, buried as he was, but he could practically feel the mild concern, already picturing the little furrow on thick brows. He didn't dignify him with an explanation, even a fake one. It had been a long day.

Footsteps came even closer and House curled up tighter, warm with shame.

"This is.... a bit much, don't you think?" An opening, the words light enough to allow for an out.

House, dehydrated and voice unused -- if one doesn't count involuntary whines, whimpers, and growling -- since he left the hospital who knows how many hours ago, could only croak back, "Get out, Wilson."

It was met with a sigh so heavy he nearly flinched. "There wasn't anything you could have done for that boy, House."

His eyes wrenched shut. That boy, his last patient. He hadn't even been old enough to drink yet. Brought in after collapsing at the park while watching, not even participating, with a basketball game among friends. Innocuous symptoms turned acute, false leads meant useless test, meant wasted time. What was initially brushed off as low blood sugar and heatstroke turned out to be an incomplete fetal rejection; a mark from the alpha girlfriend he cheated on combating the pregnancy from the affair itself leading to a malformed embryo literally killing him from inside out. If only he figured it out sooner that kid could have been getting dumped instead of chilling in the morgue.

So deep in his head he hadn't noticed Wilson leaving and coming back in until a cold water bottle was slipped in through the slit in the weave he had been using to breathe through. "Sit up so you don't drown." A bitchy suggestion from a friend, not a command from an alpha. Commendable when sometimes the voice was the only thing that could push through House's contrarian attitude.

"Why are you here? I'm not gonna kill myself because one patient died." Water after days of hospital coffee might as well have been ambrosia. "You've done your good deed, you're free to go now."

The bed dipped under Wilson's weight as he settled in close by without invading the nest itself. He spoke easily over House's warning growls. "No."

"No?"

"No. Glad to know you're not gonna off yourself, but I think you forget you're in a nest right now. You're not in heat," damn him for catching the excuse House had locked and loaded, "and you're sure as hell not pregnant, which can only mean you just feel shitty for your patient dying anyway. It's almost sweet how hard you take it sometimes."

House's growling took on a dangerous tone.

"My point is," the stupid, beautiful, sickeningly perfect alpha continued with placating gestures House could not see, "if you feel bad enough that you need to do all this, then I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone."

"Go away, Wilson." They were equally stubborn at times so House knew he was probably wasting his breath, but whatever.

He was met with the sounds of shoes slipping off socked feet and the rustle of an ugly tie being loosened. "Okay, well, what if I told you I'm staying to make myself feel better? To... satiate my savior complex or whatever."

Growls tapering into a sigh, the fight in him gave way. When life gives you lemons.... House snaked a hand out of the nest, palm up, whining in such a way he could only manage without the added stress of eyes on him. Begging.

With a snort, amused and surprised, Wilson folded his tie into House's hand. Nice, very nice, he'll be taking that, thank you very much, but not quite what he was asking for. Pianist fingers wrapped tightly around Wilson's wrist, tugging in demand. Wilson hesitated for barely a second before he cautiously let his arm be tugged into the ramshackle nest. The tie was extricated carefully from between them to be tucked under House's cheek, to be nuzzled into, a token of comfort for an omega soaked in the scent of an alpha.

Then, gently, with a touch so light it tickled, delicate fingers traced along Wilson's hand, from fingerprints to forearm where his sleeve was rolled up. He shivered when a thumb pressed softly into the gland on his wrist, then again at the sound of House's deep inhale and sigh. Bravely, Wilson started to purr, a wordless reassurance that what was happening was okay.

To his immense delight, House purred back. It was going to be okay.

[feastfic]

I had a moment and wrote down a whole lotta nonsense with Popcorn and I accidentally made myself feel really hard with it so. I might as well haha

Tw for drug use and (NONGRAPHIC) mentions of sex.

Okay so, where to begin hah. A lot of this was spawned from indulgent things and so I'm going to try and reword a lot of what I wrote down to make it more general.

• To me she is the pinnacle of "making everything a joke to push away the fact that she is deeply fucked up". To her it's just easier to never address anything and play it off as just a bit or something unimportant if somehow, someway, someone approaches her about it.

• Her avoidance has lead to an unstable relationship with substance use — it's a cycle of getting high and getting a whitey, and then getting hungover and being back at the base of "feeling the things she literally just got high over to not handle". Keeping herself busy with hosting (as precarious as it is, given that her contestants aren't exactly the most empathetic bunch about her case) is one of the only means for her to dodge herself, in a sense. So it sure isn't a good alternative, but it's better than y'know, whiting out...right?

• Literally everything she has is undiagnosed and she isn't about to get her shit checked out. (ADHD, BPD, MDD and Crohn's.) The majority of the folks around her aren't really versed in Why she decides to act like she does; they just think she's egotistical, big-headed and a dick overall.

• If for whatever reason somehow there was someone who was wholeheartedly genuine with themselves and with everyone around them...she'd actually kind of hate them. Literally they could do nothing wrong but she would be skeeved about the fact that they can just essentially gallivant around with their heart on their sleeve. It's like an anti-her, you get me.

• To add onto the last point, she's made herself so distant that if there was anyone that would try to actually talk to her and y'know, be a basic human being (or, well, object being) she wouldn't know how to reciprocate that in the slightest. Because she does want closeness but that kind of thing is deeply unsettling to her, and she would engage in what she guises as just "casual" sex; to her it's the only feasible way to actually figure out how exactly she feels about someone. It's just an empty feeling spawned from an innate guilt at this being the only way she can achieve basic positive social interactions and anger — less at herself and instead projecting it onto the other person for, in a twisted and cruelly roundabout way: leading her into this situation in the first place.

• She doesn't really cry — it's just...hard for her to be able to. "Feeling miserable" isn't how she'd describe it but there's no real way to really say it otherwise. Pretty much everything gets bottled up, both good and bad, and it can sometimes (unfortunately) seep through into her actual hosting job.

• If somehow she came across Airy, he would genuinely be one of the only people she could tolerate. He's so similar and yet could not be more different. Both apathetic but in his case he just... legitimately doesn't really seem to express that he cares. It's like if Popcorn were a firecracker and Airy was a bundle of wet sticks — they can exist next to each other without friction that would spark either of them.

• On MUCH much lighter notes: somehow she managed to get her 3D glasses to be prescription. She cannot see without those things but also you just Cannot take them off; if you lift them up there's just an endless amount of others underneath the pair(s).

[aeoki]

Swing Night - Epilogue

Characters: Adonis & Rei

Rei: *Gulp gulp* ♪

Mmm. It’s mellow and smooth. This is quite exquisite…♪

Adonis: …Hm?

Rei: Oh, Adonis-kun. Good timing.

How about a drink with me to celebrate the success of the concert?

Adonis: Is that wine? Sakuma-senpai, I can’t drink alcohol yet.

Rei: Kukuku, rest assured. It may look like wine, but it’s just grape juice.

I received a bottle of some delicious grape juice from work. I figured it would be quite miserable to drink it all by myself.

So, would you like to join an old grandpa in a little drinking party?

Adonis: Yeah. I’d love to as long as there’s no alcohol involved.

Rei: You’re always so serious, Adonis-kun. It seems my jokes don’t work on you at all. I had hoped you’d say something like, “Sakuma-senpai, you’re not that old yet.”

Adonis: I see. I apologise.

I shall make sure to do so when you next make such a comment.

Rei: Now, that sounds rather troublesome…

Well, nevermind. Now, let’s drink…♪

Adonis: Sakuma-senpai. Thank you for your help this time.

Rei: Hm?

Adonis: Oogami told me you stopped word from spreading to the press. You worked in the shadows, didn’t you? I’m sorry, and thank you.

Rei: Oh. Don’t pay that any mind.

We’re fellow unit companions, so we’re in the same boat – for better or worse.

If one of my companions finds himself in a “scandal”, then I also cannot pretend I know nothing.

I’m sure Kaoru-kun and Kouga feel the same way.

Anyway, did Urania-chan send any messages to you after the concert?

Adonis: No, she didn’t. I think she’s going back right away.

But when I saw her during the concert, she looked very content.

I think she’ll send a letter to announce our engagement has been broken off when she returns home.

Just like the letter I suddenly received on the day she arrived…

…………

I think Urania knew from the beginning that I hadn’t actually proposed to her.

Rei: I think so as well.

Adonis: I did something horrible to Urania. This all happened due to my ignorance. I regret my actions.

Rei: Don’t blame yourself so. The young you didn’t mean any harm in what you did.

Adonis: No. I really didn’t know anything – not back then and certainly not now.

I had thought that Urania was crying because of a bad djinn… a creature that instils fear in children.

But I was wrong.

Urania was scared because she overheard what the adults were talking about.

Rei: What the adults were talking about?

Adonis: …………

Rei: Hmm, is it something that shouldn’t be said to other people?

For example, how much adults can profit from the conflicts?

Adonis: ! How…? How do you know that, Sakuma-senpai?

Rei: It’s not something I knew. Well, I suppose you could say my hunch was correct.

How sad – it’s common in countries where war is ongoing.

Adonis: …………

Rei: Naturally, I don’t think your parents would be involved.

But in a country where war continues to be rampant and at parties where there are influential figures and millionaires, then…

It wouldn’t be strange for them to be talking about weapons and trade. That’s what I simply thought.

Adonis: Yeah. Urania learnt of that and cried.

If only I had paid more attention to my surroundings back then. If only I didn’t resign myself to my position as a child and only looked at the things I wanted to see.

If I did that, then perhaps I would have been able to comfort and talk to her instead of trying to comfort her through childish tricks.

Instead of this temporary engagement, perhaps we would have been able to come together as friends who lament over the conflicts.

In the end, my ignorance hurt Urania.

…………

I’m sorry. I’m just repenting. I just wanted someone to listen to my words.

Rei: Kukuku. You should do that in front of someone closer to god. I’m a creature who is the exact opposite.

After all, we’re just having a little drinking party. There’s no need for you to repent for a child’s innocence.

And here’s my advice for a friend.

Adonis-kun, in the eyes of those who didn’t know what was going on, your behaviour may have been something of no importance.

But back then, Urania-chan definitely felt she was saved by you.

If not, she wouldn’t have come all this way to Japan to see you.

Adonis: Is that… true?

Rei: I think so, at the very least. I don’t think you should give up on that dream of yours to “come together as friends” so quickly.

When something ends, something new will begin. Your relationship with Urania-chan ended as fiances, but perhaps it’s possible for you two to begin as friends.

That’s why you sing, right, Adonis-kun?

Perhaps the current you can defeat the bad djinns with no issues whatsoever.

Adonis: …Yeah, you’re right.

As long as there is still a flicker of hope within me… I’ll sing of “love” through song. I just need to make sure my songs reach my faraway country – where Urania is.

I pray my songs of “love” will pour down like rain onto the blazing embers of war.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for doing an intervention on my possibly mentally ill sister?

So my (26F) sister (18F) was chosen to be a human sacrifice by being tied up and taken by a god (and if the god didn't actually exist, presumably left to die out there. I love my sister a lot and I was horrified by this, but I eventually came back to where she was left to see if I could find her body, only to find her alive and apparently happy. Naturally, I was overjoyed, and wanted to know how she had survived; turns out she claimed to have been rescued by the gods, and that she was now living in a wondrous palace with her divine "husband". But she seemed to be hallucinating it all - there was no palace where she said there was a palace. As for her supposed divine lover, I imagine there must have been a real person because she hadn't starved out there, but according to her this "husband" only comes in the darkness and refuses to show his face? Which seems very sus. Yet my sister seemed completely oblivious to the danger and was going on about how happy and fulfilled she was and how she thought she had reached some kind of spiritual enlightenment.

I didn't know what to make of this and, not wanting to take rash action and try to get her out of this situation if she was really with a god that wanted the best for her, I consulted some people I trusted a lot as wise experts. One person I consulted said it was likely he was in fact a god, but a horrific one, because why would he hide his face if there wasn't some horrible secret about it? The other person said it was probably some human criminal who was taking advantage of her psychosis to creep on her. Well, I figured if either of those things were true I had to protect her. You see I had practically raised my sister, who was a lot younger than her, I knew she could be a bit naive and I didn't want something horrible to happen to her.

So I traveled to where she was again. I tried to use reason on her, but she refused to accept it, instead she seemed frighteningly certain that this was what she wanted. She has always listened to and looked up to me, I don't know what had gotten into her. So I did something I'm not proud of, but it was out of love and the only way I could think to get through to her. I threatened that if she didn't use a light to reveal this suspicious guy's face, I would kill her and myself. I even stabbed myself in the hand with a dagger to show I was certain.

It worked and she did it, while I was watching from a distance. But when she did, the god actually appeared and looked very displeased at me, and told me my sister would be exiled and live a miserable life because of what she'd done because of me and it was all my fault. Of course I felt horrible, but I don't see how this was my fault. If the gods are going to act so suspicious, hide their presence so that the reasonable assumption is that the person seeing them is hallucinating, and then make impossible demands that there is no reason anyone would make without something horrible to hide, I don't see how it's my fault if I react with suspicion. But I still have a lot of doubts, so I'm writing this to see what other people think about the situation.