#as if that helps in any capacity to get the horrible comments taken down

[wanteez]

despite the reach it has, kpop twt is a muffled echo chamber when it comes to certain things

[maanae]

The Court: Origins

Guess who wrote that instead of searching for an appart ? .-.

But kinda like it and I mean there's Hawkgirl so it can't be that bad (yes it's from the animated JL. I mean it's the best girl from that carton. Best. Girl.)

-

Ladybug and Chat Noir meet heros : Wonder Woman is the First (working in Paris ?) and she introduces them to the rest. Because they need help and decent backing. (shinanigans and awkwardiness are totally here, they're fans ok?) But it's a firm 'no' to any direct intervention from foreign heroes who doesn't manage his emotions (akumatized Superman... brr). But they need help. They send Martian Manhunter and Hawkgirl. (Wonder Woman would have come, with her own ties with the Miraculous and all, but she's already the ambassador of her people so can't.) Immediately, there are results. Crazy the efficacity of training right? (Master Fu gets an earful along the way, heroes don't like this Gardian way of his)

Ladybug is still his apprentice but she has back-up so she doesn't drown and she trains Chat Noir in secret from Fu. Because y'know, they're p a r t n e r s! (Hawkgirl called bullshit on the inequality between the two and Martian Manhunter said it was a good idea so). Ladybug and Chat Noir totally plan to rope Nino in it too. The Turtle always have more Gardian-vibe than the rest because Protection and Nino is Nino so he's trustworthy. (He could be Grand Gardian in the future but Ladybug is a martyr if anything else and she doesn't want to overburden him. She works on that. (And Chat Noir works on the "self-sacrificing" bit of his personality. Hawkgirl called bullshit on that too)).

They don't know each other's identity but when Chat Noir flirts and Ladybug complains they know it's more for fun than anything else. Sure, they have a tiny tiny crush on each other but they're heroes (teenage heroes) after all, they need the comic relief please.

Marinette and Adrian are more busy than ever and it's hard sometimes but they're not drowning and it's better than what could have been without the Justice League so they manage. Sure, Marinette doesn't design as much as before and Adrian runs on three hours of sleep tops but they manage! Sure they're in high school now but they're in seconde and it can be a lot of work but it's also the year the most laid back of high school so. They can do it.

With help, comes suspects. Did you think Martian Manhunter and Hawkgirl were here only as supports? They're might be not as detective-oriented as Batman but they have their own way to have answers. They're still heroes, even if they're not detectives. Chat Noir isn't happy when his father made it on the List and is a serious suspect. And he's not happy when Ladybug supports this theory with her own evidence either. And sure his suspects are believable too but he overlooks Gabriel completely and Ladybug is not impressed with him (Lila comes back at the same time and Marinette is not impressed with Adrien either.) Maybe their argument and all the yelling gave away their identities a little too quickly. Oups.

They ignore each other for two good weeks, in class like in battle, before Hawkgirl forces them to talk. (Communication is important kids). It's not a fun conversation. They somewhat forgive each other even if it's strain in the first weeks. But they work on it (because frienships too need work) and they come to it at least! And sure Hawkmoth landed some good hits during that time but they always win, good relationship or not. They're professionnals guys.

And maybe they become so close they're often taken for a couple. Except she gives him advices about Kagami and he's pushing her in Luka's arms. They're often saying they're more like siblings if ask. At some point Adrien is all but officially adopted by the Dupain-Cheng. (The Lahiffe tried but hey, a whole bakery. They can't hold a candle to that.) It was a happy few months despite the stress and the akumas and amoks. Even with Lila. (because the class isn't full of idiots, yes they find Lila great and yes her war with Marinette and Adrien is weird but they're friends either way. They just... don't go out at the same time with them. They take turns. They think of something to make it work. Because being friends with a whole class is cute but not realistic.)

And then there is a conversation who strucks odd to Adrien. Not even a conversation, just an off-hand comment. Barely a "make sure Duusu obey correctly next time". Just a few seconds. Adrien wouldn't have think of anything if he didn't exactly knew who was Duusu. Oups x2. He took it pretty bad. Poor Chat.

Their plan is simple - in theory (well, more or less, it's still Ladybug we speak of). A sort of "breaking & entering" with thief!Marinette and complice!Adrian. Martian Manhunter in invisibility mode scoots the hallways before the two and Hawkgirl is at the end of the formation, ready for all he can throw at them. Of course it comes crashing down. La faute à pas de chance like we say in French - they come during the Night of Hawkmoth (the one random night in the week where Hawkmoth akumatises someone from a nightmare - look, he needs to sleep to). So when Adrian lets Ladyfox enter, the illusions doesn't fool the high-security systems and he prepares. Time for Scarlet Moth to shine!

He doesn't go to the confrontation this coward - he knows they will kick his ass with their training and help of the Justice League. Nah, he creates several really destructive akumas. Y'know. Criminals and the such he carefully avoided before. Trumps cards! Mayura joins not long after. It's a massacre. They need help. Big help. Big like all the box. (And Not the Justice League because maybe Scarlet Moth isn't at his limit and they can't risk it.)

So they recruit. Rena Rouge, Carapace, Hornet (Queen Bee 2.0), Ryuko, Viperion, Bunnyx, and sometimes random people whom the kwamis sense they have a greater affinity than the other persons in their class. It's still bad. They die - a lot. All of them, except Bunnyx. The number of times she jumped from her Burrow to protect a fellow hero is... frightening. Sometimes she made them exchange their miraculous, to better suit their affinities and needs. It lasts three days.

They win! Somewhat. They're... not broken, almost, mourning their innocence and deeply hurt. But they're alive and Paris is standing and Hawkmoth and Mayura are not - yet - winners so. They take what they can.

Ladybug and Chat Noir don't take back the Miraculous from those who want to fight with them. Some people can't be heroes, can't have the mental for it. Others are desesperate to stop this. And others still are born for it - like them. Hawkgirl and Martian Manhunter agreed to train them - they're not in their best mindset either (they didn't see so much destruction since their last world-ending event, it's not an everyday occurrence even for them) but they're adults, professionals. The kids need them so they help, of course. The Court is born, with new heroes and new names. Too many has been compromised during the battle to keep their old, and... they are not the same as before either. Dame Chance (Ladybug - Marinette), Cat Sìth (Cat - Adrian), Alya (Tiger - Tigris), Nino (Turtle - Shield), Chloé (Bee - Hornet), Kagami (Dragon - Kinryu), Luka (Snake - Ouroboros), Alix (Bunny - Bunnyx), Nathaniel (Fox - Renart), Allegra (Rooster - Mélodie), Bridgette (Ox - Niú), Claude (Horse - Kid Mime) and Alan (Dog - Gavroche).

From here, it's hell. Hawkmoth and Mayura send akumas and sentimonsters at a frenetic pace, sometimes switching with a Scarlet Moth Situation (not too otfen because it costs a great deal of energy but at least one on three days). Life in Paris is impossible, the city is lock down, the civilians need to stay home for their security and the heroes all but stop to live. They move in the QG Hawkgirl and Martian Manhunter set up at the beginning and scheme. Identities don't matter (and that's an interesting conversation), sleeping, eating, all of that is pushed aside. They can't deal with distractions. That's also a interesting conversation. (Look, some of them don't lose their priorities. Sleep and food are not distractions. But go say that to Marinette, hah.) But nevertheless, their lifes are put on hold for their hunt (and training. the new heroes need it.) No need to say, they're on a fine line from madness.

It lasts two weeks (an eternity) before they attack. The battle is horrible - like all battles - and the Court is spread across all Paris to protect it from the akumas and sentimonsters. Against Hawkmoth and Mayura, it's only Dame Chance, Cat Sìth, Ouroboros, Kinryu and Martian Manhunter.

They win. Finally. And they sleep the month after that, because trauma (very much so), adrenaline and - just - their bodies shut down. Especially Marinette and Adrian.

-

Now, the Box is used as almost full capacity. Nino has the Turtle. So Fu is like 'cool, Marinette is ready!' Hence Marinette is Grand Guardian at 16 (joy. so much.) and as first decision names Adrian and Nino Guardians with her. Fu isn't too please. She doesn't give a flying fuck.

After Hawkmoth Alya, Nathaniel, Bridgette and Claude gave back their miraculous (they were heroes when needed but it isn't a life they want).

The next two years are a lot of juggling between training, learning, apprenticeship and heroing but nowhere near the intensity of their first two years.

Because the Court is still active. Even without Hawkmoth and Mayura (by the way Nooroo and Duusu are absolutely being pampered in the box), they remained active, help the police and all. Especially with the new risk of attacks from terrorists (they couldn't prevent the bombs, only help afterwards and that was... hard. Definitely more so than Hawkmoth because the Cure can't revive these victims. There wasn't any Miraculous involved - only plain, old, ugly humanity).

Btw the Justice League is on speed dial in case they need help for a magical/miraculous/world-ending event and because they're allies now but they're not part of it.

So yes they're heroes but they're teenagers too. Marinette and Luka date one year before they break up and remain friends (and maybe she has a little something with Kagami at one point. maybe), Adrien discovers preferring guys, Nino and Alya are still as in love as ever. They grow up, they graduate high school. Some stay in Paris, others go discover the world.

Alya made a name for herself with the Ladyblog and has a brilliant carrier ahead of her, already thinking of doing something similar to Lois Lane : war reporter, then specialising herself in heroics. She wants to be the best and knows damn well what she needs to do for that (Lila be damned). Chloé flourishes in New York, attempting business and politics degrees (nobody else see Chloe as Mayor of Gotham? I think it would suit her - a broken city needing her help and power. pretty much her). Luka makes soundtracks for movies and makes a name for himself ; in the same sector, Allegra joins the National Orchestra of France. Nino chooses a degree in the cinema, DJing in the weekend. Adrian works with Sabine and Tom, training to inherit, one day, the bakery - Gabriel crumbled with his father and he has no intention to ever build it back. Kagami trains for the Olympics. Alix goes for a degree in archeology - following her family and her miraculous. The comic series relating the aventures of the Court by Nathaniel and Mark is a huge success, assuring their own place in the world. Allan go to Japan for a degree in languages. Bridgette and Marinette goes to China to visit their family (they're totally cousins) and for their respective studies in communication and fashion.

Paris is heartbroken and very concerned when Dame Chance and Cat Sìth disapear but the Ladyblog remains active so they can explain that they're young, they want to learn to live in this world and they need to attends some Miraculous matters - but of course if Paris or the France or even the world need their help one day, they'd come back.

At 23, Marinette, Adrian, Nino and Alix take a gap year and go to Tibet. Because they're not civilians despite their somewhat inactivity and their Court is cool but they very much need to think about the future, the after them. So they need to rebuild the Order.

Oh. The League/The Untitled/a great bad. Coucou. (book 2?)

[songofclarity]

Omg I absolutely agree with your meta about WRH. When I 1st got into the Fandom I used to hate his guts but after I read the novel and watched the donghua I couldn't help but think he was really cool. Something I don't see spoken about often is his competence, not only was his sect the most powerful and richest in his reign but also in the sunshot campaign he was up against the whole cultivation world and they had WWX's demonic cultivation and army of the dead on their side as well as Meng Yao as a spy sneaking them information right from WRH's side and still they couldn't beat him and the war was at stalemate for 3-5 years until WRH was betrayed by Meng Yao whom he trusted and treated like a son and only after they lost WRH's leadership did the Wen sect fall. Also he respects and rewards competence regardless of background and gender etc which makes him look more progressive than most of the cultivation world. I also love how he exudes pure power and self confidence he has that sort of "feline" charisma like how a cat knows 100% and without any doubt that they are the epitome of cathood and that everyone else is beneath them and can never reach their level and also how before you know a cat you think cats are mean tyrannical assholes but then after you get to know them you still believe they are mean tyrannical assholes but also there is far more to them than meets the eye and you can't help but adore them and agree that they are indeed superior and have every right to expect to be worshipped and rule the world. Idk why I went into this cat tangent lol but the point is I believe WRH is very cat-like and maybe that's why I adore him so much because cats are my favorite creatures in the world

Much like a cat, Wen RuoHan sleeps 16 hours a day because an apex predator fears nothing. He wakes up to ask if the Sunshot Campaign is over yet. It's not. He gives a few orders, eats his dinner, throws around a newly gifted catnip toy (he’s quite pleased), and then goes back to sleep near a nice warm fireplace. It's been a long day and he deserves it.

OK, on a serious note, "only after they lost WRH's leadership did the Wen sect fall." 👏👏👏 THANK YOU! The war lasted three years. Wen Chao, Wen ZhuLiu, and Wen Xu all died within days of each other in the first three months. The Qishan Wen Sect is never described as stepping up their game when they realized the Sunshot Campaign was serious. The other sects had Wei WuXian’s demonic cultivation and Meng Yao’s spying.

And STILL the other sects could. not. win.

Jumping back to the top of your ask, it's pretty easy to hate Wen RuoHan at first. The fandom blames him for literally everything even though we see in real time how Wang LingJiao, Wen Chao, and Meng Yao all make their own, terrible choices. The donghua makes Wen RuoHan into a murderous aggressor trying to take over the cultivation world. CQL went with the a more traditional cdrama evil man who doesn't seem to know which way is up.

On a side note, I'm constantly confused when I see people say Wen RuoHan declared the Sunshot Campaign on the other Sects because, like, no? It's literally in the name: the other sects are trying to shoot down the sun! If this was Wen RuoHan's war, it would be more akin to the Scorched Earth Campaign.

So Wen RuoHan being at the head of the Wen Sect with four other great sects trying to take him down and holding steady is such a testament to his competency, you're absolutely right! And at the helm of his competency is his delegation.

Does he delegate to good, responsible people? No, and that’s what gets him into trouble, but I think his delegation is also what makes him popular with his sect and with guest cultivators. He’s powerful and he’s willing to share that power.

What's funny about the Qishan Wen Sect was that it was indeed the most powerful and richest, but Wei WuXian also notes how bad their general cultivators are. That Lan XiChen, Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian, and Jin ZiXuan all ranked in the top four at the archery competition isn't just due to their outstanding skill. It's also because the Wen juniors were just... frankly bad. Wen Ning has stage fright and Wen Chao lacks talent. The Waterborne Abyss was pushed into Gusu territory not as an attack on Gusu, but very likely because the Wen cultivators were not able to destroy it so they just pushed it outside their borders.

So the Wen Sect is really quantity over quality. Yu ZiYuan is a badass lady with a lightning whip and should not have died at Lotus Pier, but Lotus Pier was completely overrun so of course she stood no chance.

And the lack of quality also lies with the guest cultivators. The guest cultivator who threw Nie Dad under the bus, Wang LingJiao, and Meng Yao are all horrible people. Wang LingJiao and Meng Yao are noted for their poor cultivation. Both of them would have been killed before the crucial point if our actual Wen fam, Wen ZhuLiu and Wen RuoHan respectively, did not step in to save them.

Which makes it all the more impressive that Wen RuoHan's leadership held back not just the four sects (perhaps closer to three as the Yunmeng Jiang were recruiting probably rogue cultivators and training a lot from scratch) but also Wei WuXian with his demonic cultivation! Didn't the rumors talk about how Wei WuXian could kill thousands on his own? I don't recall Wei WuXian ever denying it, although at that rate I'd be surprised if there was anyone left to fight after three years, so it’s probably exaggerated lol He’d still be terrifying, however!

Meng Yao's spy work perhaps saved the other four sects from being decimated but his spy work was never enough to give them the upper hand. (Although I have a LOT of thoughts about what that spy work was meant to achieve in general.) Did Wen RuoHan ever know there was a spy? Would it have mattered when it had such little effect??

Wen RuoHan absolutely son-zoned Meng Yao and it's infuriating to me how often Wen RuoHan is treated by fandom as abusing Meng Yao in some capacity. There is no sign that Meng Yao ever suffered in Nightless City. That was always kind of the point of us seeing empathy: Meng Yao was in his stride, he murdered, and he was given a choice and he voted torture.

When we hear about the Fire Palace and how Meng Yao invented all those torture devices, that's Meng Yao being honored for his talent in torture. Wen ZhuLiu changed his name to Wen in order to follow Wen RuoHan and Wen Chao even comments that he can't do anything to punish Wen ZhuLiu because his father thinks Wen ZhuLiu is a rare talent. Talent is protected. Talent is promoted.

Wen RuoHan absolutely rewards talent -- which is, I like to point out, something we only ever see Nie MingJue do when he explains why he promoted Meng Yao. By comparison, Jiang FengMian only praises Wei WuXian, the Gusu Lan bullied Su She out rather than acknowledge he was talented in his own right, and the Jin only ever use their guest cultivators, such as Xue Yang, like tools to be used and thrown away. While Nie MingJue gets closest by raising up Meng Yao, however, he doesn't seek to cultivate Meng Yao's skills and instead sends him on his way when Meng Yao has other goals.

Wen RuoHan not only rewards talent but he also nurtures it. Wen Chao is given opportunities to practice being a leader and organizer. It's said by cultivators later in the novel that Wen RuoHan taught Meng Yao his sword technique--the same technique that Meng Yao likely used to kill him. Note how Nie MingJue observed from the start that Meng Yao's sword skills needed work, but we never see or hear about Meng Yao doing any training with the Nie. So Meng Yao goes from being a terrible swordsman to being good enough to kill Wen RuoHan fast enough that he suffers no backlash.

Although is Wen RuoHan the type of person who would harm someone he had son-zoned? The manhua gave us a gift by showing us the shocked and betrayed look on Wen RuoHan's face and the completely unapologetic look on Meng Yao's.

That isn’t to say that Wen RuoHan, as the enemy, didn’t somehow deserve to be taken down, but it does say a lot that the only way to defeat him was through a personal betrayal. And it says a lot that, with Wen RuoHan ruling over a city-sized cultivation sect that welcomed plenty of outsiders, he never felt like he had to watch his back.

[beca-mitchell]

brain is in the back seat (heart's in drive) (1/1)

Summary: Life has a way of not working out like the movies. Not like Beca likes movies anyway. Beca and Chloe’s first kiss.

Word count: 4,125 words.

Fic title from the song "the movies" by Nightly. Part of the daylight au. As always, many thanks to @asimplefavors for letting me cry at you re: this fic which I’ve been sitting on forever. I’m just glad it’s done. 

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

LOCATION: Brookline, MA MONTH: March AGE: 15/16

 * * * * *

 Beca hates movies, so it makes sense that she’s kind of getting the feeling that her life is turning out like one.

After the Winter Formal, Beca kind of just wants things to go back to normal, not that she really has a baseline for that anymore.

It also doesn’t really help that she has to endure Valentine’s Day amidst all her peers. If there’s something people never really grow out of, it’s the excessive gift giving and over-emphasis on the quantity of candy grams received in one’s locker on that specific day.

...And it further didn’t help that Beca had quickly shoved the Valentine’s card she had been planning to give to Chloe into her own locker upon seeing Tom walk down the fall with his arm snugly around Chloe’s shoulder, a small bouquet of roses pressed into her arms. Beca had thought it inappropriate at the time—figured Chloe didn’t need extra Valentines when she was so obviously taken...even though it had been their tradition for years.

And of course, the fact that Chloe hadn’t given her a valentine either. That was telling enough. Not that Beca gave her much reason to, with how much avoiding she had been doing since January.

That February break that follows immediately after is one of the most relaxing breaks Beca has ever experienced. She spends most of it sparsely replying to texts from Chloe and begrudgingly visiting her father and his family for the short break.

It’s the time apart (again) that really only cements that the nauseating feeling in her stomach is because she’s not getting over her feelings for one Chloe Beale anytime soon.

The more selfish part of her—the part entirely consuming her heart—doesn’t really want to give up on her feelings, but the rational part—somewhere between her heart and her head—knows that she’s just setting herself up for more heartbreak, if the Instagram updates from Chloe and Tom are any indication. It’s horrible, really because they’re not even together in person. Beca knows this solely because she knows Chloe’s family takes a trip to Stowe every February break for a ski trip.

It’s like the social media back and forth is just designed to hurt her. The little comments they leave on each other’s photos. The hearts. The inside-joke emojis.

She knows rationally that her thoughts are spiralling and it’s entirely untrue that Chloe would ever want to hurt her purposefully. It’s just that, well, Beca wouldn’t blame her. She knows that her avoidance of Chloe over the past few weeks has been more than obvious and less than desirable.

So when Beca sits down with her father and his new family, the sensation of being replaced never really gets old even if she knows that she has no real right to feel that way. But it’s hard, looking around her and feeling so out of place, and then knowing that when she returns home, the one person who she had always considered the literal embodiment of home is also starting a new segment of her life in which Beca has no real place.

And even sitting in her father’s home in New Haven, she imagines what it would be like to blurt out that she’s in love with her best friend—a girl—simply to see the disdain cross his face like a shadow. It would be enough to make her forget about her current plight. Plus, she’s just so tired of feeling like shit all the time.

She sees it, in all honesty. Like her mind has two screens, she sees the mildly foggy memory of her father saying something disparaging against homosexuality on one screen while the other gleefully rolls imagined footage of Beca sweeping his pretentious dishes off his dining table and declaring her love for her best friend, the very girl she grew up next two for the past eleven years.

Still, as appealing as that sounds and looks, she bites her tongue and listens to her father spout off something about psychology or some other academic topic that Beca has zero interest in. She would normally be texting Chloe, but she just can’t bring herself to pick up the phone.

Chloe doesn’t text her either.

It all sucks.

February break sucks.

She sucks.

Her thoughts follow her all the way back home to the desolate wasteland she calls home (classic Boston-in-February weather) where her mother (shockingly) greets her with a hug and the promise of a sit-down meal. The thought warms her for a moment before Beca remembers that her mom probably just feels guilty without really wanting to do anything. Not even apologize for being absent. Emotionally distant. Neglectful. Beca’s sure the list could go on.

As she sits at the dinner table thinking about a myriad of things floating around her mind in an attempt to distract herself including the dreaded first day back at school, the assignments she should probably work on, seeing Chloe again—

Her fingers twitch towards her phone on instinct.

She draws back with a flinch, resisting the urge to mindlessly text Chloe even though it’s what she wants most in the world at the moment. Quickly, she spares a glance at her mother who hasn’t looked up from her own plate.

With a sigh, Beca furrows her brow and returns to staring sullenly at the table until it is an appropriate enough time to retreat to her room.

The next day passes without incident. Beca decides to walk to school early instead of catching a ride from Chloe’s brother like she normally would. She’s not sure what the point is. Chloe will just figure out a way to corner her later regardless.

Even with that in mind, Beca isn’t expecting to see Chloe sitting on her bed when she opens her bedroom door. In fact, she’s kind of expecting her room to be exactly as she left it that morning before heading out for school—empty, her bed unmade, and cold.

But now—

“What are you doing here?” Beca asks, harsher than she intends. She swallows, willing herself to reign in her emotions as best as she can.

“Your mom let me in,” Chloe says softly. Her palms glide briefly over Beca’s bedspread before she’s pushing herself off the bed and moving awkwardly to the middle of Beca’s bedroom. “I…hope that’s okay?” she asks hesitantly, like she is no longer sure of her place in Beca’s house; in Beca’s life.

Beca steadies her grip on her backpack for a moment before dropping it to the floor unceremoniously. “It’s fine,” she says finally, trying to ignore the way her heart pulls and tugs at the mere sight of Chloe—Chloe, out of her school clothes and wearing comfortable loungewear. Chloe, with her hair down instead of up in a ponytail. Chloe, whose lips are slowly spreading into a hesitant smile. “I just…” Beca blinks, turning to walk to her desk quickly to be safe. Distant. “Why are you here?” she asks again, softer.

“I…” Chloe takes a deep breath, but she thankfully does not seem to move closer to Beca in any capacity. “Are you mad at me?” Chloe asks with a delicate softness that only makes Beca’s heart ache more.

In her mind’s eye, she plays out the variety of expressions Chloe could possibly be wearing. An expression designed to elicit the highest amount of sympathy in a willing audience. Outwardly, Beca stares hard at the notebook on her desk, reaching out to run her finger along the spiral. “No,” she murmurs. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Did I…” Chloe sighs, like she can’t quite bear to finish that question. But Chloe, as resilient as ever, pushes through, though she doesn’t finish the question. “Beca, please just look at me.”

Beca bites her lip but she complies nonetheless, taking her time to drag her eyes up to Chloe’s face.

She hates that she immediately wants to break into a smile upon simply seeing Chloe’s face—a natural by-product of the happiness she usually feels upon seeing her best friend’s face, though her more recent emotions have obviously been veering towards the romantic.

But more than all of that—more than the positive emotions—she hates the hurt she sees there, especially knowing that she had actively contributed in some way.

“Did I do something?” Chloe asks rather quickly. Nervously. Her hands come up to grip her own arms, hugging herself. “Did I do something to you to make you…”

“To make me what?”

“Like this,” Chloe says quickly. “Like you can’t stand being around me.”

It’s not you, Beca thinks. It’s me and I’m so sorry. “It’s…nothing,” Beca says evasively. “I…” Her eyes narrow as her brain catches up with the rest of her emotions. She fully processes that Chloe is in her room. After school. On a nice evening. “Didn’t you have plans today? With Tom?”

A blush rises on Chloe’s cheek at the mere mention of his name, as usual. And as usual, Beca finds herself reacting viscerally with something akin to nausea. “I cancelled,” Chloe admits. “I wanted to see you. It’s been a while since—”

“—Well, you’ve seen me.” Beca tries not to let some of the acidity seep into her tone because Chloe doesn’t deserve it, but it does anyway. Too late. Beca sighs. “I have homework to do.”

Chloe brightens. “Great! So do I. We can do it together.”

Chloe’s chipper tone, while normally something that Beca finds charming and attractive, grates on her nerves today. Beca glances at Chloe out of the corner of her eye. It’s then that she notices Chloe’s full backpack resting on the floor by her feet. “Don’t you have to do it with Tom? Like you guys normally do? He made that pretty clear.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Chloe says in a tone that Beca can’t identify. She doesn’t know if she has the energy to identify anything at this point.

Beca grits her teeth. “I still think you should go.”

“Why?” Chloe challenges. When Beca doesn’t respond, Chloe continues, this time with an angry tone. “Do you know how worried I am about you? What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me? Is it Tom? Did he say something to you?” The way Chloe says his name then is so distinct that it makes Beca’s ears perk up. It reminds Beca of so long ago—of Chloe immediately demanding the names of people who had hurt Beca’s feelings.

Her own knight in shining armor.

Beca exhales noisily and finally meets Chloe’s eyes head-on. “Chloe, no. We’re not doing this right now.”

Blue eyes flash like lightning. “Oh, well at least you’re looking at me now.”

“Chloe,” Beca says, exasperated at the bitterness in Chloe’s tone. It is absolutely well-deserved, but the sting makes Beca’s hackles rise nonetheless. “Come on.”

“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s been going on with you.” Chloe literally stomps her foot on the ground. “I swear it, Beca Mitchell.”

Chloe kind of looks like she might stomp her foot again. Instead, she crosses her arms and stares at Beca defiantly.

It’s like the dam breaks all at once. Beca bursts out laughing at both the sight and the sound. “Did you just—? A foot stomp? Really?”

Chloe freezes, like she isn’t quite sure what’s going on. “Oh, I…” The mild confusion in her eyes causes Beca to smile again, unable to hide her own adoration for her best friend even if she tried.

(Which she has been. Trying, at least.)

For a moment, it is finally silent in Beca’s room. Chloe’s stance softens and she is suddenly staring at Beca with a different kind of expression on her face. “What?” Beca asks, not realizing that she has the tiniest smile on her face still.

“There you are,” Chloe says affectionately. “My favorite smile.”

Beca blinks, feeling the sudden urge to cry. All kinds of emotion well up inside her, each warring for some kind of dominance; each warring for attention. Beca feels like Chloe is really looking at her for the first time in a while.

It also occurs to Beca that they’re finally alone and Beca has no idea what to do.

“Stop,” Beca says quickly. She averts her gaze. “Stop doing that.”

Chloe’s confusion is immediately visible. New tension grows palpable between them. “Stop doing what?”

“Stop…” Beca gestures wildly. “Doing those things. Saying those things that make me…” she trails off, licking her lips. The air feels thick. Difficult to breathe. “Stop,” she whispers.

Her heart races uncomfortably, like what Beca imagines a heart attack to feel like. Or if she’s being less dramatic, what she imagines a panic attack to be.

“Beca,” Chloe murmurs. “You can talk to me. Please, you’re scaring me.” She steps closer, right in front of Beca. Beca sees Chloe’s annoyingly cute socks in her line of vision and slowly lifts her head. “Hi,” Chloe says softly upon catching Beca’s eyes with her own. “Beca,” she starts. “It’s okay.”

Is it? Beca thinks. Will it ever be?

It’s then that Beca realizes how close they’re standing. How nice Chloe smells. How much softer her sweater looks up close. The very light freckles on Chloe’s face, now faded compared to how prominent they had seemed during the summer months.

I love you so much, Beca thinks, her traitorous mind breaking down every last confine as usual. I don’t know what that means, but I know that it’s true.

Beca isn’t sure what comes over her then.

(She kind of knows, but still. It’s easier being ignorant to her thought processes.)

In reality, it feels like the oddest fog passing over her brain while her heart beats with startling clarity. Her fingers graze Chloe’s cheek before she realizes what is happening and her lips meet Chloe’s with force that surprises both of them. Beca feels the tension leave her body immediately replaced by the most peculiar warmth—a warmth that fills her chest unexpectedly and so wholly that her body all but sags into Chloe’s.

To her surprise, just as she is about to pull back, Chloe’s hand comes up to cup the back of her head while the other hand curls around her hip with, Beca realizes with a jolt of fire to her chest, stark possessiveness and protectiveness. For a few blissful moments, Chloe’s lips move in tandem with her own, as soft as Beca always imagined. The initial shock of experiencing her first kiss wears off, but…

Chloe is kissing her back. Chloe is kissing her and Chloe is not moving away except—

She does.

Chloe finally moves back, their lips separating with suddenness and abruptness that leaves Beca reeling.

“Oh my God,” Beca says immediately. Her throat feels tight and her voice is high and rough with the fear that courses through her body. “God, Chloe, I—”

“You just kissed me,” Chloe interrupts. Her voice trembles even as she continues. “You kissed me, Beca.”

There is something more than accusation in her tone. There is a hint of desperation that Beca recognizes all too well and further, something almost foreign in terms of their interactions with each other. Chloe has never sounded unsure or insecure when talking to Beca. The fact that she did just then breaks Beca’s heart a little bit.

“I’m…” Beca swallows. Pushes down the emotion threatening to spill over. She isn’t even sure what there is to really say. All she can think about is how Chloe pulled away first—essentially pushed her away. It stings more than Beca had anticipated even though it had been what she entirely expected. “I know. Chloe, please, just listen."

“I’m dating Tom,” Chloe responds immediately. “I’m dating Tom and I can’t…you can’t just spring this on me and just…” Chloe’s eyes well up with tears and Beca feels her own eyes sting at the sight. “I can’t cheat on him.”

“We didn’t,” Beca says quickly. Desperately. “Chloe, please, can we just…” Beca feels the last false shred of happiness finally crumble away as she sees the despair in Chloe’s eyes.

She doesn’t feel the same way.

She never did.

She was just caught up in the moment.

“I don’t know what I expected,” Beca says in a small voice. “Fuck,” she murmurs, running her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry.”

She feels so fucking embarrassed.

Chloe hesitates. “Beca, wait.”

“No, you should just go. You should go and just.” Beca turns back to her desk and grips the edge of her chair tightly. “Just go do your dumb homework and go be with your boyfriend. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I just need time—”

“Chloe, now.”

The way Beca’s voice rings around her bedroom weighs heavier than the silence that follows. She thinks she hears Chloe sniffle once, but she can’t bear to look. She can’t bear to see Chloe’s expression and even more viscerally, the metaphorical imagery of Chloe finally crushing the last pieces of her already-shattered part as she leaves Beca’s bedroom.

The door clicks quietly, but the sound still makes Beca jump. Unfortunately, not like a movie, these end credits close out with nothing more than a whimper from her own mouth.

She finally allows herself to crumble, finally unable to outrun the magnitude of her emotions.

Not like running had worked very well before.

 * * * * * 

Chloe I shouldn’t have left, i’m sorry

That’s the text message Beca receives the next morning.

Beca I wanted you to go

It’s one of the few lies Beca has ever told Chloe over the span of their eleven-year friendship.

Beca I’m sorry too

She bites her lip at the added-on text, sending it on impulse because she doesn’t want Chloe to be upset with her. Whether she’s apologizing for the kiss, for her feelings, or for chasing Chloe out of her bedroom, she’s not sure at this point.

It doesn’t matter, however. Chloe doesn’t reply; doesn’t even call her out on it.

 * * * * *

Beca goes a few days with some relative quiet in her life. She drags herself around aimlessly doing her best not to be too rocked with guilt and discord as her mind traitorously replays the kiss at unfortunate moments.

“Beca, wait!”

Beca does her best to steady herself and she takes a breath. It does feel like self-sabotage, knowing that Chloe is equally likely to spend time at this specific spot—their spot—so Beca supposes a part of her wanted so badly to just see Chloe’s face again. Just to see if Chloe would be disgusted or upset with her.

All she sees is desperation written across Chloe’s face. The same desperation that had been on Chloe’s face just a few days ago in her bedroom. Since then, Beca had been avoiding her as best as possible, weaving around people whenever the opportunity presented itself (which was often, due to Beca’s smaller stature).

Beca had never been so grateful for crowded high school hallways. Blending in and being nearly invisible never felt so good.

“We need to talk,” Chloe says quietly. “You know we do.”

“There’s…” Beca presses her fingers tightly into the metal bar in front of her, unable to look at Chloe directly. She should have expected Chloe to come here. Self-sabotage, she supposes. “Nothing to talk about.”

“That’s crap and you know it.”

Beca refuses to acknowledge that. “I can’t right now, Chlo.”

“Please,” Chloe says, a bit closer than before. “You…” Chloe sighs. “You can’t just kiss me like that and—and—” Biting frustration seeps into her tone. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that,” Chloe whispers after a moment of silence. “But there’s no way you can just expect me to ignore what happened between us.”

Beca takes a brief moment to marvel over how Chloe somehow manages to be good with words. Or at least that she manages to get words out at all. It’s something Beca envies.

“I’m trying so hard to understand, Beca,” Chloe murmurs, taking a step closer.

Beca continues to focus on anything but Chloe. “There’s nothing to understand. I made a mistake. You can forget about it.”

The air seems to still around them. Beca can hear the shouts of their peers, sharp and crisp in the brisk, chilly air.

Finally, Chloe responds, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to forget about it, Beca.”

That makes Beca look at Chloe. She twists so sharply and quickly that she think something cracks in her neck, but she brushes off the brief twinge that runs through her body. “Why?” she asks, hating how weak her voice sounds. “You should, it’s for the be—”

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Chloe repeats, firmer than before.

“Why?” Beca asks quickly as curiosity and hope win out.

Chloe says nothing, simply watching Beca with a near-inscrutable expression. Finally, she sucks in a breath. “Why did you kiss me?” she asks, in lieu of responding, like it’s all the response Beca needs. The challenge in Chloe’s voice is familiar. It makes Beca’s heart race. She resists the urge to reach out and grasp onto Chloe’s forearms or shoulders to steady herself. Instead, Beca forces herself to keep her eyes on Chloe steadily.

In that moment, Beca just wants Chloe to steal the words right from her mind. She wants Chloe to speak so she doesn’t have to—Chloe has to know at this point. She has to know, there’s no real reason for her not to know. It becomes evident that Chloe isn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. Beca sighs. “You know why,” she finally murmurs. “You know,” she presses.

Chloe’s eyes flash with emotion—finally something akin to the familiar passion that Beca has come to know over the years. It sends Beca’s heart into a tangle of emotions as she attempts to steady her own breathing. She could go on. She could keep talking. She feels the urge—she recognizes it in its rarity—course through her with startling sincerity. You know why, her own words echo back at her. Tell her, she begs herself. Please.

I like you.

I’m in love with you.

I love you.

“Then you know why, too,” Chloe finally says after a long silence.

Beca’s eyes must do something—she feels some muscle in her face twitch—because Chloe takes an immediate step back after the words leave her mouth.

“Chloe,” Beca breathes, like it’s the first breath of pure air she has taken in and expelled in a long time. Tom, Beca thinks frantically. But Tom is—it can’t be—

“I—I should go. But—um.” Chloe shifts, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she assesses Beca once more. Beca doesn’t dare breathe, wondering if Chloe is going to kiss her—whether Chloe will kiss her first this time. Or if Chloe will hug her. Or if Chloe will say more. She longs to ask more questions, say more words, but she’s too afraid of the thick air between them suddenly.

Chloe finally takes a breath; she finally takes a step back and lifts her hand in a half wave, like she realizes she needs to leave. “I have to go,” she repeats. “But I...Beca,” Chloe murmurs. She lifts her hands together, like she might take the necessary steps to close the distance between them, but she casts Beca a sad expression, clenching her hands into fists and drawing them close to her chest. It is so vulnerable and unexpected for Chloe that Beca has no idea what words could possibly come out of her mouth then. “Don’t give up on me.”

That alone steals Beca’s breath from her once more. She can do nothing more than nod, because how can she even fathom the thought. It had been nice to indulge in the possibility of not loving Chloe Beale—not being with her, even as friends—but this reality, however half-formed is more than Beca could have ever dreamed of.

With that, Chloe finally twists and darts away from under the bleachers. Beca watches her go with bated breath, and when she finally exhales, she watches the way the air condenses in front of her, like a flurry of thoughts and emotions finally making themselves known in Chloe’s wake.

She breathes, allowing herself to think of their shared kiss in Beca’s bedroom just days ago. Maybe even a week now.

“I won’t,” she replies, speaking to nobody except the ghostly presence of the memories past, present, and future.

And she finally feels like the future—whatever sequels may follow—might not look so bleak.

fin.

[hoe-imaginess]

replies!

tried to put older ones at the top. 

ALSO: I got a lot of requests in the last few weeks and just wanted to post a general reply in reminder that my ASK BOX IS CLOSED! Not accepting any requests right now, sorry! I delete any that come in

i BEEN A YEEHAW BINCH SINCE DAY ONE GORLLL. we stan 4am whataburger in this house 

I do!! I used to have gold but it got kinda expensive in comparison to what I was charging for ko-fi’s. If you don’t have that extra $6 a month it’s not worth it boo ):

Ahhh congrats! Sorry I’m so late!! I think it’s always worth it to stick with the original blog since you’ve accumulated followers there, and you never know if they’re going to miss out on the transition to your new one. It takes some time to restructure a blog but it’s definitely worth it to keep the original

the amount of HIM’s in One Piece is unbelievable I whore for everyone

I’m doing ok!!!! I go a little crazy indoors but I’m keeping myself busy <3 my immune system is shit so I’m on utter lock down, but better safe than sorry

@thychi​ 

I keep up sporadically with the manga!! I stopped watching it when I caught up a few months ago, think I ended on Whole Cake? I know what’s happening currently but I haven’t read too into depth in the Wano arc. I usually just... pop into the spoilers tags... to see Law... bc I love him... 

@ithecrystaldragonheart​

Mito and Hashi are a powerful duo. Mito has a lot of brains cells she has to share with Hashi but that’s ok!!!! I do think Tobirama and Mito would get along too!

Basically tbh he sees one thing out of place and he must destroy

i’D HEARD IT WAS A REALLY BAD CHAPTER. this is a late response but MANGA READERS THAT ONE WEEK... we were all a mess (and no I haven’t watched but I’ve been recommended to do so quite a lot so I’ll hop on it soon!) 

Hmm!!!! I actually find a *shorter* first chapter is a good way to hook the reader without making them claw through too much writing to get a sense of what’s going on. Like, if I see a first chapter is reallllly long I sometimes have to do it to em, and scroll a bit to the middle to see what’s going on, and to double check that it’s a fic I want to take the time to read

1300 words isn’t too much though!!! Omg I’ve written much longer first chapters lmao. If you feel weird about it you can maybe find a good place to split that 1300 into two chapters?? But definitely make sure it’s split in a good place. It’s always good to leave the reader wanting more. If you can end on a short cliff hanger or a tense moment, that’s 10/10

That being said it would probably be wise to make the rest of the chapters of a similair average length. I’ve read fics that have shorter or longer chapters and it’s not bad (unless I’m grieving because it’s too short AND I REQUIRE MOREEE) but it might help you with actually planning your plot

I DON’T!!! But I want his ninja dick so bad. Maybe i’ll whip something up for him soon. For the culture 

When you sent this a while ago it actually inspired me to pick it up again!! I’m fixing it so it comes up with more accurate (?) results since I think the first one was so messed up. Everyone kept getting Madara sksksks. It’s still in the works but I wanna post it again! They’re super fun to make

AHHHH THANKSSSSS!!!

It’s so hard trying to keep a character that you love IC because... i want him to not be as much of an asshole as he is in canon... so unfortunately I gotta let him be an asshole sometimes. On the other hand, fortunately he’s such a minor guy I get some room to explore w him and I really hope it pays off, so thank you!!!

Girl, eye—someties

did Itachi Uchiha send me this

(i love u too)

RIGHT!!! i would have never guessed. Like, if Kishi could see us... he’d be fucking floored....

Queen!!! I do!!! I don’t have much up rn but I got 234232 Word docs with WIP fics that I hope to post at some point, ty ilysm 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoSkelly

@any59​ ty ty!

Ahhhh!!! thank you!!! It was my biggest project to date <3 

(HxH spoilers below vvvvv)

I don’t really think Feitan is... so far removed from his emotions (Like Meruem) that he would really need to change that drastically for someone if he really liked them—that being said, he’s not going to change, either. If by change we mean he’s suddenly as enamored and endearing with them as Meruem is with Komugi... then I don’t think that’s going to happen regardless. We kinda see Feitan being a good and decently considerate comrade to the Troupe, so that would obviously extend to this girl/boy, maybe with a sliver of extra fondness if we’re talking romantically. But otherwise, Feitan seems like a “you get what you get” type of guy, that would inherently be *tender* with someone he liked, but not so tender that he’d have to have a whole philosophical/personality change

Ok now I’m confusing myself aksjdhfkjs. Basically:

Meruem had to like, undergo some existential shit to get where he was Komugi. I think Feitan already has the capacity to care for someone, even if his way of caring isn’t exactly rainbows and butterflies. So it’s not like he has to change. He just has to find the right person that doesn’t 1) get on his nerves and 2) get on his nerves enough that he’s gonna kill them

Feitan is a simple man. You piss him off. You die. You don’t? Ok. He’ll be nice

I did!!!

Thank you for accepting me I’m glad to be here

akjdhfakjshfsj i know this was a serious comment but when i first read it I wanted to laugh asdhfkasjhf the “ap lit” inclusion sent me. What was so horrible about ap lit that this girl thought she was dying? Ap lit will really get you

(But I know!! I’d forgotten I’d taken it that morning! I have one of those cute pill organizers and I thought I’d taken it out but did not...)

Forgive me!!! I felt dumba fterwards hence why I deleted the post. Do not worry! This is the dose I was prescribed. I figured I would get some really manic reactions when trying a new dosage so now I know that’s not gonna work lol 

ajkshdfkjshfjksa izuna wants tobirama’s death to be as quick and natural as possible

thank  you!!!! I didn’t think you guys would like them so much <3

@blackstrawberrynightmare​

It’s been so long since I watched Psycho Pass or even looked into anything about it so pls take my thoughts with a grain of salt but:

I’m gonna say probably not? He’s one of those typical antags that have such strong ideals that... I don’t think even if the corrupt system was taken down he’d be entirely absolved of his ideals, or at the least, of the journey he’s taken in pursuit of those ideals. I don’t think a guy like him could ultimately settle down once the dust clears, and especially not with a lover or a family or anything like that. If he did want to lead a normal life it would probably be in seclusion

Thank you!!!!!!

skjhasjkdfhajkhsd they would never. Only room for one tongue on that body and they’ll fight for their tongue rights

Ahhh yeah my master post is so bad I swear I’m gonna fix it one day—I don’t think I have one of Madara!

I do not ):

@cacauatecacauate​ thanks for the kind words!! I’m not accepting requests right now though! I am planning on posting more to that story though, just not right now!

(I think this was in response to when I missed your ko-fi about the bakers) thank you! and thanks for supporting!

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me if You Can (7/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Oh my, oh my! Something big happened last chapter, didn’t it? Sorry for the delay in posting! I got on a prompt kick and didn’t want to overwhelm you guys with words! But don’t worry! I’ve officially written 19 chapters of this story😱 and still have some more to go! Shout out to @resident-of-storybrooke for beta-ing all these bad boys!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current 

Tumblr:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 

Tag list: @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera@jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

One. Two.

One. Two.

One. Two.

It’s a repetitive motion that Emma can’t stop, her fist continuously hitting against the punching bag in front of her until she’s finished with her reps and every inch of her body feels like some kind of expired jell-o that’s at the bottom of her kitchen cabinets.

Why did she ever even buy jell-o? That is not something that she usually would have even bought unless she was randomly trying to attempt to make a recipe to take to dinner at David and Mary Margaret’s.

That must have been an odd day. What would she even have been making?

Emma drops the gloves she borrowed from the hotel into the basket, her hands slicked in sweat, and wipes her forehead down with the back of her forearm before bending down to pick up her phone and walk out of the gym. She can already feel that she overdid it today, that she’s barely going to be able to move tomorrow, but in the words of Elle Woods, happy people don’t kill their husbands.

Wait. What?

She definitely skipped forward on the lines there. She was most definitely leaning more toward exercise giving endorphins and making people happy or marginally less frustrated with the state of their lives. She’s on the second half of that spectrum, and she’s not afraid to admit it.

To herself at least. There is absolutely no way that she’s telling someone else what exactly it is that’s going on in her head. That’s probably unhealthy, but she’s not going to worry about that right now.

Ducking out of the gym, she immediately moves toward the back staircase of the hotel she’s staying in, avoiding the breakfast buffet area no matter how much she wants a bottle of water and something to eat. She bets they have waffles. But nope. No. She is not entertaining the idea, and she is not going there. The team is staying at this hotel (thanks David for nearly always booking them in the same place when that’s most definitely not necessary), and she is avoiding Killian Jones at all costs.

Because she kissed him.

(And he kissed her back.)

She fucking kissed Killian Jones, who is most definitely high on the list of people she should not be kissing, and yet she knows exactly how soft his lips are compared to the scruff on his chin. She knows that he makes this deep growl noise when she bites his lip, and she knows that he likes to focus on one lip at a time, specifically her upper one.

She knows that it feels damn good.

She knows a lot more than she should because she should never know how it feels to kiss him.

After he asked her out, after all of the fame and harassment and annoyances that came with that, she told herself that she would be pissed at him, that she would hate him and be annoyed and absolutely have nothing to do with him outside of a professional capacity.

That lasted for a solid two minutes once she saw him again.

It’s this…tether of sorts between them, and she doesn’t understand it. Their conversations are easy, even if they’re not always fluid, and she flirts with him. She knows that she does. She’d have to be blind and deaf and incompetent not to realize this, and she kind of hates herself for falling into the trap that so many others have fallen into. And it’s not that he has a full dating history, that he was once more known for who he was sleeping with than how his arm was working. That’s not it at all.

(Though she does have thoughts and questions and worries because she can spot a man running from something from a mile away, and that’s exactly what all of that had to have been. He was not sleeping around like that simply because he could.)

It’s her job.

She hates that she’s been flirting with him because of her job. She hates that she kissed him because of that.

Professionalism is important to her, and she’s hated how she’s rarely been taken seriously. A female working in sports, especially male-focused sports, is a rarity. Most women are shoved off to the side to only commentate on softball or women’s soccer (which is just soccer, by the way) or the WNBA. They’re not allowed to work with the men, the networks not promoting them, but Emma was promoted. She got the job even without much on-air experience, and even if it was partially because of David, she still did that for herself.

And she worked hard to make sure that she was taken seriously.

Then Killian Jones asked her out, and eighty percent of that effort went down the drain in one quick motion under the loud cheers of the stadium crowd and the rapid beating of her heart.

So, she can’t be kissing him in tunnels in the stadium or flirting with him over breakfast. She simply can’t. Because then there’s a picture of them somewhere, that picture makes its way to her bosses, and she’s having to sit in an HR meeting even though it’s not actually against the rules for her to date a player. But the rules don’t matter when it’s the rumors that will kill her.

Rumors make the world go round while also destroying lives all at once.

People will wonder if she’s been sleeping with Killian since before he asked her out. That’ll make them wonder if she slept her way to her job, which would validate the thoughts of so many people. If they date and break up, she’ll never be known for her job again. She’ll always be known as Jones’s ex, and no part of her is under the impression that she’ll be transferred to another team. She’ll be forced to interview him and record segments and commentate on his games.

All of her credibility will disappear, and she simply can’t do that.

Not when she’s been working so hard to build it up.

Neal was always making fun of her for her job, for her major, for her love of baseball, of tennis, of soccer, of anything. She put up it with it at first, being young and so stupidly in love that she thought he could walk on the moon without any help, but as the years dragged on, as she continued to work at ESPN while in college, it really started to take a toll on her that her boyfriend diminished her choices as if her career was a silly little hobby that meant nothing. She gets it. She’s not a doctor or a human right’s lawyer or a teacher. She’s not changing the world. But this is what she does, what she enjoys, and no one should ever be allowed to make her feel bad for that.

If you love someone, you don’t diminish their interests.

Neal made her feel like the shittiest person in the world every single time she put her job or school above him. Even if it was simply that she couldn’t go out to a bar with him because she needed to study, he made her feel like she was doing him some kind of disservice, like she owed him her time instead of giving it to herself.

The two of them had so many issues, some that she never got to resolve, but the biggest was that he consistently made her feel like she was nothing but a girl playing pretend in having a career and a family just like she’d been doing her entire life.

Asshole.

Walsh was the same way, but even he didn’t mess her up and make her question everything in the way that Neal did. If he did, she imagines her work experience would be even more different now, that having to see him occasionally would be more than a little annoyance.

Another reason dating someone she works with is a horrible idea.

Emma does all of this for herself because she loves it, but at the back of her mind, she can still hear his voice telling her that she’s not good enough and should leave all of this to the professionals. All she wants is for that voice to go away, for him to stop taking up space in her mind.  

And that’s exactly why she can’t make out with Killian Jones again. It would be a horrific idea in every single way. Her body says yes, her mind says hell no.

Okay, it could be that her body says hell yes and her mind says a very quiet no, but that’s not at all what’s supposed to be happening. Signals are getting crossed somewhere.

Once she’s to her hotel room’s floor, she pushes open the stairwell door and checks to make sure there’s no one around like the paranoid person that she is, before jogging down the carpeted hallway to her room. Ruby isn’t with her for this trip, so she’s got the room to herself. It’s quiet, and while Emma can appreciate that, she kind of misses Ruby. They’re pretty much attached at the hip at all times, so the few times a year where Emma travels and Ruby doesn’t or vice versa are a little lonely. At least she doesn’t have to room with someone she doesn’t really know. That happened once, and that’s an experience Emma never wants to have again.

Her phone rings in her hand, and she nearly drops it from the shock, only pulling herself together enough to answer and place it on speaker so that she doesn’t have to hold it up to her sweaty ear.

“Mom is pissed at you,” David practically yells to her, something he does whenever he’s walking outside the office. Sure enough, she can hear the faint sounds of traffic and construction.

Ignoring the fact that he just called Ruth her mom, something he always seems to do, she sighs and flops down on the bed, not caring how sweaty she is. “Because I missed Easter? I told her that was happening ahead of time. I’m literally across the country, David.”

“She misses you.”

“I talk to her all of the time.”

“That’s not the same as going home, and you know it.”

Emma huffs, kicking her foot against the carpet. “I know that, but I don’t have several days off until a few weeks from now. I can go spend a month up there once the season is over.”

“That’s not entirely true. You still work for us full time, technically. Not the team.”

“I know that.”

“I’m just saying – ”

“David.”

“What?”

“Is she really pissed at me?”

“No,” he exhales, the background noise disappearing in the way that she knows that it does when he’s walked back into the office. “It was different having a holiday without you is all. Maybe I’ll invite her to come stay with us when you’re home for a bit. That way it’s the best of both worlds.”

“Okay, Hannah Montana.”

“We are both too old for that reference.”

“I’m only a year older than Miley Cyrus.”

“That makes me feel ancient.”

“Well, you are.” Emma twists her hands in the sheets on the bed, causing them to wrinkle before letting go. “I have to be at the stadium in two hours, but I promise I’ll call Ruth tomorrow before I get on the plane to go to San Francisco.”

“She’d like that. How are you? How’s California? I feel like we never get to talk when you’re on the road.”

“I freaking love California,” she sighs, putting her phone to the side so she can get out of these sweaty clothes and into a robe. “The weather is so nice this time of year, there’s a beach, the food is great. The traffic sucks, but the traffic sucks at home too. I don’t know. I feel like if I had to live somewhere else, it’d be out here.”

“I’m pretty sure Mom will be even more annoyed if you move across the country.”

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“Pretty much.”

Emma groans as she struggles to get her sports bra off, having to tug and pull until it snaps free and slaps against her skin. “I would never leave you guys. Or Ruby and Graham. I need someone to cook all of my meals for me. I’m too dependent on that.”

“Like the adult you are.”

“Exactly.” She finally gets her bra off, which feels like some kind of triumph, and tosses it onto the desk where all of her notes for today’s game. “David, I’ve got to get ready for today, but I’ll talk to you later, okay? Tell Marg and Leo that I’m invading the house on my off day when I get home.”

“They’ll both be at school that day.”

“After they get home. I’m obviously going to sleep throughout the entire morning.”

“Obviously. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

-/-

The Dodgers absolutely obliterate the Yankees that afternoon. 11-2.

Killian gets pulled in the bottom of the third.

Will Scarlet nearly gets thrown out for arguing with the umpire.

August Booth loses his footing and falls against third base in a move that has everyone saying he has a wooden leg for all of his flexibility.

It’s an all-around disaster of a game, a horrible way to close the series, and when she goes into the clubhouse to try to talk about it and break down what happened, the only man who will even acknowledge her is Eric Fisher. He barely gives her anything.

Not a great day at the office for anyone.

-/-

It’s two hours after the game is finished that she finally gets back to the hotel. There’s a sour feeling in her stomach over it all, frustration with the loss and with her coverage. The guys are usually pretty good at talking to her, coaches and managers included, but sometimes when there’s a loss like that, no one feels like acknowledging her presence. It’s fine. Honestly and truly it is. She wouldn’t want to talk to an annoying reporter after having her ass handed to her on a silver platter either, but that doesn’t make her feel any better about anything.

Maybe the sour feeling in her stomach has to do with the fact that she hasn’t eaten anything other than a granola bar all day. She knows not to do that, honestly and truly, but since she’s trying not to eat in front of a camera after the last few games that she’s worked, she didn’t get something to eat at work today. She definitely should have stolen some of the fruit from the craft services table inside of the press box when she went up there to get her microphone.

After flipping through the room service catalog and deciding that there is no way in hell she’s paying that much for a bowl of pasta, she orders a box of pizza to be delivered, and starts scrolling through the channels on her television trying to find a movie to watch. She needs to pack up for her early flight tomorrow, but since she’s already in her sweatpants and has taken her bra off, that seems like far too much effort. She’ll do it in the morning. Working under pressure has always kind of been her thing.

Finally, she decides on Titanic. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s seen it before. It’s a classic, and it’ll keep her entertained. Just as Rose and Jack are standing at the helm of the boat with their arms in the air, her hotel phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Miss Swan,” the voice says, “your pizza is here, but you have to come to the lobby to get it.”

She groans a little before speaking. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll be right there.”

Emma rises from the bed and hastily puts on her sneakers, tucking the laces into the shoes instead of tying them, and walks out of her hotel room so that she can go down to the lobby to get her pizza. This better be good pizza, but it probably won’t even matter with how hungry she is.

She finds the guy easily, handing him his tip as he hands her the small box, and she thinks she’s made it home free until she turns around and practically runs into Ariel Fisher.

“Hi, Emma,” she smiles, as bright and friendly as she always is. Seriously. She’s always friendly and polished, and Emma is literally wearing sweatpants and a tank top with no bra. Her shoes aren’t even tied. “How are you?”

“I’m great,” she says, forcing a smile. “How are you? How’s Eric? He didn’t seem to be having too great of a day.”

Ariel shakes her head from side to side and rolls her eyes. “They’re all a bunch of oversized children. Seriously. They lose nearly as much as they win, but they never quite stop complaining.”

“I think that’s all men, if I’m honest.”

Ariel barks out a laugh, her red curls falling back behind her shoulders as her hand lands on her chest over her heart. “Absolutely true. Hey,” she starts, eyes glancing over Emma in a way that makes her stomach twist, “a few of us are sitting up on the roof right now. They have a bar and this charming little firepit. Why don’t you join us?”

“Uh,” she stutters, pulling her bottom lips between her teeth and trying to think of an excuse as to how to get out of this, “thank you, but I think I probably shouldn’t intrude. I was fully planning on kind of vegging out on my pizza.”

“You can do that up with us! It’s fine! If any of them try to take your food, swat them away. They’ve all eaten. Come on. It’ll be great.”

She has the word no on her tongue but never gets to say it as Ariel smiles at her again and grabs onto her elbow, pulling her along with her. Emma could easily say no again and walk away, but she finds herself following along in the elevators and listening to Ariel go on and on about how much she loves when they get to be in California for a week like this, even if they don’t get to stay in the same city the entire time. Emma can wholeheartedly agree with this, so she continues to make small talk as the floors tick off and the elevator door opens up to the rooftop.

The sun hasn’t quite set all the way, so there’s an orange tint to the darkness of the sky that reflects off the stringed lights that move across the roof. The noise level up here is already much louder than downstairs, and she can see the bar full of people as well as the large firepit with chairs surrounding it. Immediately, her eyes scan over the group, and she recognizes Eric, Will, Arthur, Robin, Phillip and Killian. Of course he’s there. Why would he not be? She also sees Arthur’s wife, Jennifer, and Belle French, Will’s girlfriend. It’s odd to know all of these people without really knowing them, and she feels like an intruder coming up here to sit with them.

At least everyone is dressed the way she is, and she doesn’t look like a total slob.

Okay, maybe she does.

Shit, she doesn’t have a bra on, it’s kind of chilly up here, and her tank top is far too thin. Idly, she wonders if she can make a break for it and run right now, but everyone has already seen her.

“I found a stray in the lobby,” Ariel sighs as she walks into the circle and sits in a chair next to her husband. “I pretty much dragged her to sit up here with us, and no one ask her for her pizza. That’s hers, and she’s not sharing.”

“That makes me sound great. Thanks,” she chuckles awkwardly as her eyes scan the circle for a place to sit, and because the world hates her, the only open chair is right next to Killian Jones.

Of-fucking-course.

He’s very pointedly not looking at her, which she both appreciates and hates, and maybe that’s what drives her to walk around the circle, the fire warming her a bit, and sit down into the lounge chair next to him, her pizza box sitting on the table in between them.

“Your attire is a little different there than usual, Swan,” Will points out, dangling his beer bottle in the air.

“So is yours. It’s probably a good thing they make you wear a uniform because your clothes don’t match at all.”

The conversation dies down around her, everyone stopping what they’re saying, and she can feel the blush rising to her cheeks until Belle starts giggling, her hand covering her mouth as her wine sloshes around in its glass in the other.

“She’s right, babe. Your outfit is awful.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You have on a Hawaiian shirt, Scarlet,” Robin yells from his seat. “That isn’t even in style in Hawaii. All you need is a fanny pack.”

“I’ve heard those are coming back in style, actually,” Eric adds.

“Absolutely not,” Ariel laughs.

“Why do they call them fanny packs if they don’t go on your ass?” Emma questions in as she leans over and takes a slice of her pizza out of the box, figuring if she’s eating, she won’t have to talk as much.

“They’re supposed to be worn on your ass.” She twists her head to look at Killian at the same time that he looks at her, quickly glancing away and adjusting his faded Vanderbilt sweatshirt. “But people are assholes and steal shit, so everyone wears them on their stomach now.”

“Thank you, professor Jones,” Will mocks, doing a fake bow.

“I hate when you call me that.”

“It’s very fitting. You’re a know-it-all.”

“That is decidedly untrue.”

“I agree with Will,” Arthur adds in, and Emma can practically feel the tension between he and Killian simply by the tone of his voice. What the hell happened there? “You do act like you know everything.”

“I can guarantee that I don’t,” Killian grits out all the while she takes another bite of her pizza. She should have gotten popcorn instead because this is honestly like a show.

“It’s the way you talk,” Robin says kindly, and she subtly twists her head to the side to look at him. “You can’t help it. Your brain is always running through scenarios and coming up with questions and looking for more information. The way you look at stat sheets is insane. I think it all stems from your physics degree.”

“You have a physics degree?” she blurts out, and she can feel every head in the circle turn to look at her.

Outsider.

“No,” Killian says quietly, propping his jean covered legs up on the concrete rim of the fireplace. “I have most of one. I didn’t finish school before I got called up.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, love.”

All of her intestines twist within her stomach, and she smiles at the intensity of his gaze before biting into her pizza crust. This is all a bit overwhelming yet fascinating, and this is probably the first time she’s ever spent time with all of these people outside of a baseball stadium. Well, except for Killian, but she’s decided that he doesn’t count.

“And most of them are not good,” Eric teases, only for Killian to hold up his middle finger at the man.

“Killian is fantastic,” Ariel gushes, betraying her husband. “Seriously. I love him, and you guys are all assholes to him sometimes.”

“Babe, I don’t think defending him like he’s in kindergarten is going to help his case. I don’t think he even has a case with Emma. Really, I’m surprised she’s even willing to be in a five-foot radius of him.”

“We can beat him up for you, if you want,” Will supplies.

“If you hit him in the face, though, he won’t be marketable anymore,” Belle laughs. Emma’s never really talked to her before, but she’s funny. That’s a good match for Will.

“I take offense to that,” Killian huffs, crossing his arms and letting his muscles flex under the material of his sweatshirt. “I am marketable for more than just my face.”

“Your ass is another one.”

“And technically your arm.”

“I’ve heard things about his thighs.”

“Oh, and his eyes.”

“That counts as part of his face.”

“You are all fucking assholes,” Killian laughs, his eyes crinkling as his head tilts back. “I spend all of my days with you people, being kind, helping with presents to buy for your wives and girlfriends, helping you win games, and all you do is give me shit in front of Emma when she already thinks that I’m the biggest ass in the world.”

“Not the biggest,” she corrects, the words flowing before she stops herself. Did she have wine or something today? Because she is not in her right mind. “I know at least a handful of people who I would put above you on that list. Will, for instance.”

A smile starts on the left side of Killian’s lips and stretches to the other, his white teeth on display as the now nearly completely fading sun sets a soft glow over his skin, making his tan deeper. She’s never going to deny that he’s attractive, that she’s attracted to him, but she has to deny the feeling of attraction that’s not physical. She’s kissed the lips making that smile, and her body tells her to do it again. But she can’t. Simply sitting up here with him is probably dangerous enough.

“You are much more fun outside of work, Emma Swan,” Will sighs, and it’s his voice that has her looking away from Killian and the way that his blue eyes were focused on her.

“I’m fun at work too, thank you very much. It’s just that with some of you guys, it’s like pulling teeth to get an interview. Eric was the only one who would even give me one today.”

“To be fair,” Robin sighs, “I wasn’t there.”

“No, no,” Eric laughs, kissing his wife’s head. “Don’t try to take this away from me. I got the gold star today. Maybe you’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Maybe I’ll also help us win tomorrow.”

From there it’s a roar of conversation, all of them debating back and forth about the game and what went wrong, what they should have done, what they will do next time. It’s a conversation she’s sure Al already had with them in the locker room after she left, but it’s still fascinating to see them have it in such a casual setting where they all have drinks in their hands or their phones out. She swears that August Booth hasn’t looked up from the notebook he’s writing in the entire time she’s been out here, and Arthur’s wife hasn’t said a single word, even to Arthur.

By the time that she’s been out there for an hour, goosebumps rising on her arms, she’s learned more about the personal lives of the players than she has in her three years of covering the team. Will is most definitely the one who jokes around the most, and Belle is always bringing him back to earth. Robin reminds her of David in the way that he plays the role of Dad despite being near the same age as most everyone out here. Eric and Ariel remind her of David and Mary Margaret too, except a little bit more fun, and it’s kind of this weird connection that she’s making between the people in her personal life and the people in her professional.

Robin, August, Phillip, Arthur, and Jennifer have all gone inside, each of them excusing themselves throughout the hour, and the roar of conversation has dulled to quiet ones between the six of them that remain.

She’s finished half of her pizza by this point, but since she’s starting to feel awkward again, she opens up the box and takes a slice out, biting into it only to see Killian take a picture of her eating with her phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” she mumbles, covering her mouth.

He smiles and takes another picture before putting his phone in his lap. “I didn’t see you eating on the jumbotron today, so I figured the tradition of people filming you needed to continue.”

“That’s really weird.”

“Never said I wasn’t.”

She finishes chewing and puts her half-eaten slice down on top of the box. “I have purposefully been avoiding eating while working since it’s obviously now a running joke.”

“That’s why I had to continue it.” He moves his eyebrows across his forehead, and a chill runs down her spine, causing her to rub her hands over her arm to combat some of the chill. “You cold, Swan?”

“I’m fine,” she lies.

“I can see the gooseflesh on your arms.”

“It’s fine.” She waves him away and adjusts her tank top, crossing her arms over her chest because she can see her nipples through the material. “Nothing the fire can’t fix.”

Suddenly Killian leans forward and grabs onto the nape of his sweatshirt, pulling it over his head. His shirt comes up with the movement, revealing muscles and hair on his stomach, and she glances down quickly before looking up to him holding his sweatshirt out to her, the chain he wears around his neck shining against his black shirt.

“Here,” he offers, a soft smile on his face.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Love, please. I know you can’t be warm. It’s fine. It’s just a sweatshirt, not a marriage proposal.”

She will do anything to have him not continue that kind of thought process, so she quickly takes the sweatshirt and pulls it over her head. It’s soft, obviously well loved, and probably about two sizes too big for her as the arms are a little long and the hemline would most likely land below her ass.

“Thank you,” she smiles, nodding her head. “I’ll give it back before I go to my room.”

“Of course you will. That’s my favorite sweatshirt. It’s not getting out of my sight.”

“Why do I feel like you would do murderous things if I don’t give this back?”

“Because I would.”

She laughs and curves her legs up underneath her thighs as the picks up her pizza again. She is eating nothing but vegetables tomorrow. “You want something to eat? It’s all I can offer in return for the sweatshirt.”

“Is it all just pepperoni and cheese?”

“Yep. It’s not like anything at home, but it’ll do.”

He nods his head and leans over to open the box, perusing the pieces before taking two and folding them together. “I think sometimes people try to add too much to their pizzas. Toppings are great, but sometimes simple is better. Classics are classics for a reason.”

“You’re one of those people who thinks everyone should read classic books, aren’t you?”

“They’re good.”

“Not all of them are.”

“You’re disturbed.”

“Maybe.”

“Thank you for the pizza,” he mumbles, taking a large bite as he adjusts in his seat, leaning in a little closer to Emma as they speak. “I’ll pay you back for it.”

“It was, like, ten bucks,” she promises, reaching her hand forward to touch his forearm to reassure him. “It’s fine.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do to pay you back.”

“Oh, so now you’re a gentleman?”

He winks, and heat rises on her cheeks as her eyes glance from his lashes to his lips. “I’m always a gentleman.”

All of the sudden, his words sink in. He may simply be offering to pay for half of a pizza for her, but the implication of more is behind it. He’s asked her out on a date, they’ve shared a really good kiss, and she can’t do this no matter how much she wants to.

Oh wow. She wants to.

But she can’t.

Her career is too important to her, and she absolutely cannot ruin that, not now. Dating Killian, even considering it, is a horrible idea for approximately seventeen different reasons. He wouldn’t just break her heart if it didn’t work out, he’d break her career too.

It’s all too much, and even if they’re simply having a conversation right now, she can read between the lines.

Rising from her chair with a rapidly beating heart, she finally notices that all of the people around them have disappeared, only people she doesn’t know filling the seats.

“Swan?”

“Swan?”

“Emma?”

“Yeah?” she gasps, twisting her head back to look at Killian.

He smiles, and guilt settles into her stomach. “What are you doing?”

“I, um,” she mumbles, already taking a step away, “just remembered that my flight is super early tomorrow, and I haven’t packed. So I’ve got to go. Enjoy the pizza. I’ll see you in San Francisco.”

She’s running. She knows that she is. There’s no denying it, and she doesn’t even care until she’s in the elevator and the mirrored doors are closing in front of her to show that she’s still wearing his sweatshirt, the scent of Killian Jones overwhelming her.

[chemicalmagecraft]

Foresight is 20/20 Chapter 6

I stuck my hands in my pockets and licked my lips as I looked up at the cloudy sky. "So you said that we're going to meet with a friend of yours?" I asked. It was about a month after I "summoned" Kurama.

"Yes," Father said. "Inuzuka Tsume. She was one of my teammates back when we were genin, and currently the head of the Inuzuka clan." He ruffled Hinata's hair. "Considering their ages and how well the Inuzuka and Hyuuga can work together, it's most likely that Hinata-chan and her youngest child will also be in the same genin team."

"I-I'll do my best!" Hinata said.

I smiled. "I'm sure you'll do fine," I contributed. "You're way better than you think you are." I brushed my bangs out of my eye. They were getting to the point where they weren't entirely curving away from my eye, though that didn't really bother me that much. I like my hair long. Plus, there are a looot of characters in Naruto with hair over one eye, so who am I to go against that trend? I closed my eyes and started humming a happy tune (All dead, all dead, all the dreams we had), when... something brushed on my burgeoning negativity senses, though I couldn't really tell much about it because I wasn't trying to sense anything. For me to sense it automatically probably meant something bad, though.

"Two women raising a child?" I overheard. "You make me sick." I opened my eyes and sighed. I looked over to where I heard and felt the evil and saw three women. One of them, who was the source of the hate and presumably the hateful comment, was looking at the other two with a scornful look in her eyes and holding... was that a young Tenten?

Huh, guess that's what author me decided to do about Tenten having about zero background information aside from idolizing Tsunade and liking weaponry.

The lady was gripping maybe young Tenten by the wrist and I could see that she looked really afraid. Stranger danger, kids. The other two women, who I assumed were probably Tenten's mothers, began to give off the appropriate amount of hate that one would expect from a pair of mothers whose four-or-so-year-old daughter was snatched by a homophobe, and it showed. Mom number one looked like an older version of Tenten in everything but clothing and the fact that she only had one bun and mom letter A was a shorter orange-haired woman who wore the same sort of Chinese-style clothes that Tenten wore. "Give her back," mom letter A snarled, cracking her knuckles. Mom number one echoed the sentiment. At this point, my training consisting entirely of my Sociology teacher showing the class a bunch of episodes of What Would You Do? and having us write a small assignment each time instead of doing actual work kicked in and I swiftly-but-silently walked over to the homophobic woman and grabbed her wrist with a red chakra-enhanced vice grip.

"No," I said, growling at her with red eyes. She recoiled in fear, letting go of young Tenten's wrist. As one might expect, Tenten immediately retreated to and began hiding behind her mothers. I relaxed my face, but kept my eyes the same. "Why exactly do you think what you just did was right? Especially the attempted child abduction?" I asked the lady.

She tried to yank her wrist away, but I slowly licked my lips and let her struggle for a bit before letting go. She haughtily scoffed like I, a small child, hadn't just vice-gripped her hard enough to leave a red mark. "It's unnatural and no child should be subjected to that. She should be sent back to the orphanage."

I used a neato trick that Kurama taught me to send hate at her with what little I knew of biju telepathy. "First, I don't believe it's something 'unnatural' or 'wrong.' Second, I've been to the orphanage. It's not something I'd send someone to because I don't agree with who the parents are unless the parents are abusive or something." I took another "look" at the family's chakra. "Third, I would like to say that from the feel of their chakra, I think that the daughter is somehow related to both of them, so I think she might have never been in the orphanage to begin with." It was just a suspicion I had, but considering the feel of Tenten's and mom letter A's chakras weren't quite as close as Tenten's and mom number one's, I decided that mom letter A was a relative of Tenten's biological father. Maybe a sister or close cousin? At any rate, something about their similarities in chakra felt... familiar. I couldn't quite put my finger on it... "So the only bad person here is you," I continued. "Leave."

Evil woman clearly didn't like my tone of voice. Or my logical argument as to why she was a horrible person. "You little brat! I'll kill you!"

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Father said with an edge to his voice. He'd come over at some time during the argument, with Hinata hiding behind him. "I don't like the tone you've taken with my son."

She winced and tugged at her collar. "At least you'd agree with me when I say that those two women are deviants for being... together?"

"I honestly don't know why you might think that," Father mused. "I suppose we seem traditional most of the time, but the Hyuuga have had a long history of supporting LGBT rights and love in general." He gave a small smirk that had all of the energy of a Cheshire Cat smile. "In fact, I'd like to say that I am not at all ashamed to admit that, when we were both genin, I had feelings for Namikaze Minato." The woman that I was now memorizing the face and chakra signature of for the specific purpose of giving her a hard time were I to ever see her again scoffed and stomped off. "Are you four okay?" he asked.

"That was fun," I said, then realized how that could be insensitive that could be to the little girl who was almost abducted and her parents. "Sorry, are you three okay?"

Mom number one (I really needed to learn their names) smiled. "That was nice of you, kid. What's your name?"

"Hyuuga Kouki," I said. "He's my father and the little one is my sister, Hinata." Before I was about to make any more witty remarks, I was surprise-glomped by a four-year-old.

"That was so cool!" Tenten exclaimed. "You totally saved me!" I noticed that up close, her otherwise dark brown-looking hair had a red glint with the right lighting like mine. Just in case, I compared her chakra to mine to see if that was what the familiar bit to her chakra was. I was glad at myself to see that what little similarity between our chakras was minimal, a bit like the similarity I noticed between Naruto and an Uchiha that I'd seen. Like we were descendants of two siblings from Otsutsuki Hagoromo's ti-

"Wait a minute," I thought. I used my chakra sensing on Tenten and mom letter A. Prodigious chakra capacity, disproportionate physical energy, and a bit of a sunny feel to it. For both of them. I thought about what I knew about how Tenten fights from canon. Seals all of her weapons in scrolls and has the stamina to keep up with Neji the prodigy, Lee the genius of hard work, and Maito Guy. Plus, mom number A had orange hair. "They're Uzumaki, aren't they?" I thought even as mom letter A started talking.

"My name's Uzumaki Ai." I fricking called it. "My..." she blushed slightly and tittered like a schoolgirl with her first crush, "girlfriend here is named Tenko."

"And the girl hugging Kouki-kun is my little daughter, Tenten," Tenko said.

"Potentially touchy question," I said flatly, acting like there wasn't a little girl who was a little taller than me still hugging me. I gave Tenten a look and she let go.

Tenko sighed. It was more of a sad sigh and not a some-rude-kid-is-about-to-ask-me-a-potentially-touchy-question sigh. "Her father was... severely injured in the Kyuubi attack. He died and Ai and I mourned him together. She decided to help me raise her brother's child and well," she blushed, "things... happened eventually." I nodded. Yeah, that seemed like something I'd write. Tenko looked thoughtful for a moment. "If you don't mind me asking a potentially touchy question," she said, "why were you so willing to jump in? Not that it's bad to do that, but I wouldn't have thought that a little kid would be like that."

I grunted and licked my lips. "I hate people who judge others without getting to know them at all, just basing their entire opinion on something that has no bearing on their character or that they have no control over." I closed my eyes and shrugged. "I don't know exactly where it comes from, but I think that the fact that over half the village hating my best friend for something that happened on the day of his birth and was masterminded by someone else had something to do with it." I gave Tenko and Ai a piercing stare and noticed that Tenten had completely stopped following the conversation. "I don't suppose you two realize that Naruto-chan is totally innocent of the attack that happened mere minutes after his birth, do you?" I gave Ai a bitter smile and tilted my head to the side. "'Course, given the fact that I'm pretty sure that the two of you are the only remnants of the Uzumaki clan in the village but I haven't even sensed you anywhere near him makes that seem unlikely."

She sighed and stood there for a minute. "You're... you're right. I should have taken him in. My brother died in the attack, but that doesn't change the fact that I turned my back on a kid who had nowhere else to go and is actually family." She looked at Tenko and smiled. "Honey, do you think Tenten-chan would like a little brother?" I could tell what the answer was when Tenten turned to her mother and stared at her with puppy dog eyes. Not Puppy Dog Eyes(TM), but close.

Tenko chuckled. "I think I'd like to have a son." Tenten squeed and jumped up and down in happiness. Then she grabbed me and Hinata in a big hug. "Well, we should probably get going with that. I don't even know where to start..."

"Go to the Hokage," Father suggested. "Considering his importance, Hokage-sama would get involved anyway."

I raised my hand. "And if you really want to speed it up, tell the secretary to tell Sarutobi-san that the Seer of Time sent you." Ai, Tenko, and Tenten looked at me quizzically. "I think that we might have go to soon. Good luck."

Father stiffened slightly. "Right, I was taking Hinata-chan and Kouki-kun to meet a friend of mine and we really should be going. I hope that we will get to know each other in the future, considering the fact that my son is friends with the boy you're hoping to adopt, but if you will excuse us, we must be leaving now." He looked at Tenten. "If you could release my children, please?" Tenten stopped hugging us and we parted ways.

A few minutes later Father said, "You planned that, didn't you."

I covered my mouth with a hand as I grinned and did my weird snicker that sounds like I'm hissing and I decided to mess with him. "However do you suggest I did that, Father?" I asked in a voice that made it sound like I totally did plan it, even though in this one case I totally hadn't. "Such a feat would require me to have some way to know that they were going to be there beforehand." He gave me a flat look. "Sometimes, when you do good things purely out of the kindness of your heart," I continued, "events line up so nicely that people think that you planned it." He raised an eyebrow. I shrugged and pulled out the small, featureless puppet that I'd bought to test a certain jutsu I was trying to make and started playing around with it using chakra threads. What? Just because I don't plan on using puppet ninjutsu in battle doesn't mean that I should never learn it. "Yeah, I like being all puppetmaster-y, but I really can't take credit for this one. It's just luck."

"That's so cool, Kouki-niisan!" Hinata said as she looked at my puppet. I grinned and made it bow before putting it away.

"Thaaaank you," I said. "Let's go see Father's friend now."

kukukuku~

Tsume guffawed as she looked at me. "So this is the little ankle-biter you saddled yourself with, eh Hiashi?" she said with a grin.

To his credit, I was only able to bend my spine an acute angle to the side before Father said, "Please don't bite my ankle, Kouki-kun."

This naturally made Tsume howl with laughter and then smile at me. "You're alright, kid!"

"Thank you, Inuzuka-san," I said with a small grin. "You seem nice too. Should I go introduce myself to your son?" I asked.

"Go ahead, kid." She grabbed Kiba by the head and lightly shoved him at me, then looked at the nine-year-old Hana. "You should talk to them too, kiddo. I heard Kouki's got some sort of healing jutsu, so you could talk to him about that."

"Hello," I said as she walked over. "Can I pet your puppies," I asked, pointing at the three husky puppies that were trailing behind her.

"Sure," she said with a smile. I bent down and rubbed two of them behind the ears, cooing in a totally not weird way. "Their names are Hashirama, Tobirama, and Hiruzen. We call them the Haimaru triplets."

"After the first three Hokage," I assumed.

"Umm..." Hinata said quietly. "C-can I..." Hana picked up the puppy I wasn't petting and gave him to Hinata. "Thanks..." Kiba walked up to her and started chatting to her about... something. I stopped paying attention, so I'm not sure what.

Hana crouched down next to me and began petting... I think he was Tobirama? "So what was my mom saying about you knowing a healing jutsu?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "Unfortunately it's not the sort of jutsu just anyone can use, if that's what you were hoping for. You have to have a certain special chakra that you don't have, sorry."

She sighed. "Can't be helped. I want to learn medical ninjutsu so I can be a veterinarian. I like animals, so I thought it'd be a nice goal."

I nodded as I started scratching Hiruzen's tummy. "Being any kind of healer is a worthy aspiration," I muttered. "And animals are nice, though I suppose I shouldn't have to say that to an Inuzuka, should I?" She laughed. "I want to learn medical ninjutsu too, but really, mine is just for curiosity." I closed my eyes and chuckled as Hiruzen started licking my fingers. Then I rubbed my fingers on the "skirt" my shirt when he was done. "Mine must seem petty compared to yours, huh?"

She shrugged. "I still think that it's nice to want to learn stuff like that." She chuckled. "Even if it's just curiosity. So what exactly is that healing jutsu of yours?"

I grinned and lit the tip of my finger with a bit of red chakra. "It's a bit of a long story, but I think it's an interesting one..." We chatted for a while. I think I actually made a friend! Plus, it looked like Hinata was having fun with Kiba, so that's good.

kukukuku~

Ai and Tenko walked into that one meeting room of the Hokage's. "You wanted to see us again?" Tenko asked.

"Yes," he said. "Please, sit down." The couple sat down on one of the sofas, with Ai resting her head on Tenko's shoulder, which was really adorable. "There are a few more things that I'd like to discuss with the two of you before you adopt Naruto-kun. It's very important."

"Let's hear it," Ai said as she got a little more comfortable nuzzling Tenko.

"For one, I think you should learn who his father was before you take him in," I said as I sauntered out of the shadows and dropped my very-horrible-but-still-at-least-somewhat-usable Transparency Jutsu. It really only made me a little translucent, really more like stained glass than glass, and there was still an unfortunate amount of disturbance when I moved, but with my dark clothes, the partial tan that I had from actually spending time in the sun, and the shadows, the ability of standing so incredibly still that I become invisible to the eye was easy and attainable, even if I still couldn't eat any zargnuts while doing it... "His name was Namikaze Minato, maybe you've heard of him." I flopped down on the other sofa and sprawled out on the entire thing.

Everyone was silent for a moment as Tenko and Ai looked at me incredulously. After a few seconds, Ai broke the silence by saying, "Not that I'm mad or anything because you're a nice kid, but what the hell are you doing here?"

Sarutobi cleared his throat. "To cut a long story short, I made young Kouki here my advisor because he has the ability to see the future. This is an S-rank secret that should be even more strongly guarded than Naruto's status as a jinchuriki and his heritage." I winked and flashed my open eye at them.

"Okay, so what was that about Naruto's father being the fourth Hokage?" Tenko asked. I took the pictures of Minato and Naruto that I'd prepared for that particular reason and waved them so that the corners hit each other a few times and raised my eyebrows slightly. Seriously who else in Konoha had spiky blonde hair like that? "No, I see that now." She paused. "Actually I'm surprised that not more people have made that connection..."

"People see what they want to see," I stated with a scowl and red eyes. "Any relation to the heroic Fourth aside from 'murderer of' would get in the way of the idea that most of the villagers seem to have built up of how Naruto is a monstrous demon and not a young boy hated by over half the village for the monster sealed inside him to save said village." I scoffed. "Ingrates."

After a few minutes of utter silence, Tenko said, "I'd like to ask why nobody's ever tried to inform the village about his father, then."

I shrugged. "This guy," I pointed at Hiruzen, "decided that Naruto's parents have made some enemies and they aren't around to protect him anymore, so why not just cover up who his parents were, and not even tell him 'til he's either chuunin or sixteen. I begrudgingly accepted his reasoning on the condition that we make sure that Naruto's life isn't completely horrible and he doesn't learn about the Kyuubi or his parentage in completely traumatic circumstances."

"I would have preferred it if you didn't phrase it like that," Hiruzen said, "but that's about it. There's another matter, this one something that Kouki-kun was rather insistent on telling you."

Aiko nodded. "Spill, kid."

I sat up. Kinda. I didn't actually sit like a proper young lady, but at least I wasn't lying down on the sofa, right? "Something you guys should probably know looong before it actually becomes relevant." I tossed them the picture of Obito from when he had to have his ID photo taken. "His name is Uchiha Obito. Pronounced KIA in the Third Ninja War after a cave-in. In actuality, he was abducted by Uchiha Madara, implanted with the genetic material of the First to repair the damage from the cave-in, and groomed to take on Madara's mission. Part of this mission was apparently to attack the village using his Sharingan to control Kyuubi about three-and-a-half years ago."

Tenko sighed. "I suppose it's a little hard to swallow, but so is a young boy with the ability to see the future, so I'm willing to believe you. Why did you want us to know this?"

I lazily bobbed my head. "First, there's the fact that, even if you have the best intentions, the two of you lost a loved one in the Obito attack, so it might've been hard for you to fully put aside the feelings from that if you believed that the thing responsible for that was sitting under your roof inside the boy you adopted. And that would be bad. Second, I plan on eventually getting Naruto-chan and Kurama-chan to make friends with each other, so you two thinking Kurama-chan is a mindless beast might interfere with that." Ai raised her hand. "Kurama's the Kyuubi and yes we are friends," I answered. "Third, you two really should know all the facts."

"Thanks for that, then, kid," Ai said. "Is there anything else we should know?"

I grumbled. "I was gonna tell you two about Jiraiya, but someone," I looked at Hiruzen, "already told you."

"How did you..." Tenko started to say, but then trailed off. "Right, future vision. I'm starting to realize that 'getting to know each other' wasn't the only reason Hyuuga-san had for wanting to get some drinks with us after this." I smiled at the compliment.

"Where is young Tenten, anyway?" Hiruzen asked. "I figured she was waiting outside, but if you're going out for drinks..."

"I love shadow clones," Ai said blissfully. "They're just... so useful."

He nodded. "I agree. If I'm not mistaken, I'm getting done twice the amount of paperwork that I used to, and I'm not even in my office."

"Though, should we be drinking after learning such sensitive information?" Tenko asked. "I love you, Ai, but you can't really hold your alcohol very well."

Ai blushed. "N-no I don't! You can't hold your alcohol very well!"

I looked into the future a bit, hiss-chuckled at Ai's drunken shenanigans, and said, "Ai-san should be fine, though you should keep your guard up just in case. I believe we're done here, you two should go unless you have anything else to ask or declare." As I expected, they didn't, and so summarily left, thanking the two of us as they did.

I slouched into the sofa some more and tossed Hiruzen a scroll. "Suna agreed to let me take a crack at Gaara, right? And about the issue of payment, tell the Kazekage that I'm doing it half out of the kindness of my heart and half to hone my skills with fuinjutsu, so I'm fine if he can't pay me too much relative to the skill level of the job." I shrugged. "Though I would like it if he had any scrolls on jutsu, preferably Wind Release, that he'd be willing to give me." He opened the scroll and made to say something, but I cut him off by saying, "You've probably noticed by now, but I screen any meeting where we discuss sensitive information beforehand. Might need to take a nap tomorrow, even though I slept last night."

"Did you already find a seal to fix Gaara?" Hiruzen asked incredulously as he stared at the scroll.

"Nein," I sighed. "As great as that would've been, we both know that I need more information on his seal to even attempt anything more than a temporary countermeasure. That's just something I whipped up with Kurama-chan's help to deal with the situation for now."

"You really like preparing for everything, don't you?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Just the things that I can think of. Besides, I doubt I'll hear you complaining when I know what to do if Danzo challenges you to a dance-off with the winner becoming Hokage, will I?"

He gave me a flat look. "Kouki-kun, did you get into my secret stash of brownies? Because you really shouldn't eat those."

I blinked. "No I did not. Just going to pretend you never said that."

"If anyone asks, it's for my back."

"Just make sure it doesn't interfere with your work," I advised. "The solution to that problem," I said like he hadn't said anything hinting at drug use, "is to just laugh him out of the office because the Hokage is not chosen based solely on one's ability to get down and boogie, but at the same time make sure that you could theoretically beat him in a dance-off. And try to engineer events so that, if Danzo has his... modifications... at the time of the dance-off, those modifications get unveiled in public and in front of a captive audience, thus casting suspicion onto his character."

He grunted. "A sensible answer to a nonsensical problem. What about the current problem of Gaara, by the way?"

I nodded and slipped into Serious Mode (yes, I have one of those), and then actually did sit up like a proper young lady. "Write this down. That scroll contains instructions to make and an example of the Inner Demon Calming Seal, a one-use seal of my and Kurama's invention that forcibly suppresses red chakra in any being with red chakra that is not a Biju - i.e. me or a jinchuriki - by way of using some of their own red chakra as fuel to cause the rest to return to the chakra coils. Tell the Kazekage to have at least three copies of it made and ready at all times, preferably more. One copy will be given to Gaara himself, who will be instructed to use it at any time when he feels like Shukaku might be trying to rise up while he's awake. The other two are to be given to shinobi of appropriate skill who are to follow Gaara around in shifts and intervene if they feel Gaara is having a problem but can't deal with it himself for whatever reason.

"Any seals that have been used will enter a state where they cannot be used again but give diagnostic information on Gaara at the time of usage, so they are to be sent to me with time used for analysis. Note that the way the seals are set up, an error in writing will most likely cause one of three problems. The first two are that it will not suppress the chakra, which is the reason why there are to be three, and complete failure in the data recording. These two are hopefully trivial matters, though there might be some inconvenience. The third is to be taken more seriously, however. Should the mechanism that regulates the reaction fail, unfortunately, the seal will continue to siphon some of Shukaku's red chakra even after it's been suppressed, as evidenced by the red glow persisting after Gaara's back to normal. It isn't nearly enough to put Gaara in danger of dying by all of Shukaku's chakra being extracted, but it will create a miniature Biju Dama should it reach critical mass. Before this happens, the seal must be removed from Gaara and sent at least ten meters from him, which will cause the seal to stop and the built-up chakra to disperse. Send the scroll and those instructions as soon as possible with further instructions to gather any and all information on Gaara's seal plus any information on Gaara himself that they think might be relevant, like medical records and chakra composition, as well as any questions and statements they might have." He looked at me incredulously, and then I slouched back down, sighed, and said, "The annoying thing about Serious Mode is that I can only do it for so long..."

Hiruzen sighed, closed his eyes, and said, "That seems about right. Are you leaving soon?" This was answered when he opened his eyes and saw a note in my place with the word "yup" on it. "How did he do that?" the Hokage muttered.

kukukuku~

The couple met another couple in front of the... I guess it was a bar? Anyway, Ai told Tenko that she saw Hiashi and someone who she guessed was probably his wife. "Hey, Hyuuga-san!" Ai said as she walked up to him. She elbowed him and said, "Is that your wife? She's hot!"

Hyuuga Hizashi looked over at his wife with puzzlement. "Do we know her?" he mouthed at aunt Hikaru.

"No," she mouthed back, shaking her head slightly.

At this exact moment, the real Hiashi and Hikari showed up. "Ah, good," Hiashi said. "I see you two have met." Ai slowly looked at Hizashi, then at Hiashi, then back to Hizashi.

"I haven't even touched the alcohol and I'm already seeing double," Ai groused. "What the heck?"

Tenko chuckled and planted a kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. "I think that those two might be his brother and sister-in-law, sweetie. Hiashi-san said that they would be here too."

Ai glared at Father. "You could have warned us that they're your clones," she complained.

"Identical twins and he did," Tenko reminded her.

Father chuckled. "Ai-san and Tenko-san, this is my darling wife Hikari," he gave her a small kiss, "and you seem to have already acquainted yourself with my brother Hizashi and his wife, Hikaru." He pointed at them. "Shall we enter, then?" They entered and were escorted to a private room by the staff.

"What, exactly, is with the private rooms?" Tenko asked as they sat down and ordered some drinks.

"This establishment is often used for meetings between clans as a sort of neutral ground," Father explained. "The owner takes the privacy of the clients who make use of the private rooms very seriously. They're soundproofed, the staff regularly check for any kind of bugs, they knock before coming in, and there are even seals placed on the rooms that make them unseeable by chakra-sensing or even the Byakugan."

"Actually, what about the Shoraigan?" Hikaru asked. As soon as she did, there was a knock on the door. When the staff member was let in, he said that a young boy had given him a note to get to his aunt, Hikaru. After the guy left, everyone else looked at aunt Hikaru. She opened the note and read, "What do you think? ~Love Kouki."

There was some awkward silence followed by Tenko clearing her throat. "So when are our drinks arriving, do you think?"

"Probably about now," Hizashi guessed. There was another knock on the door. "I swear I didn't plan that," he quickly added.

"Kouki-kun has had an impact on you, hasn't he?" Tenko asked.

Mother sighed. "He's not bad or anything, if that's what you're implying, but it's that he seems to like to play around with people and show off with his future vision and other unique powers, which can be... not exactly annoying, but... odd... at times." She then actually managed to almost look into my eyes and say, "And I'm not just saying that because you may or may not be watching, Kouki-kun."

Heh. I could show more of their conversation, but this chapter's probably getting long enough and that was about all that I wanted to show anyway. So to sum it all up, Ai got really drunk and kept hitting on Tenko. Ah, young love.

kukukuku~

I think I should make note of a few things I'd asked Hiruzen about earlier. Tenten's father, Uzumaki Shigechi, was actually the Uzumaki clan head before he died, with his younger sister having become clan head after his death. Funnily enough this meant that Tenten kinda had two separate claims to being the Uzumaki heiress, being the only daughter of the previous clan head and basically the adopted daughter of the current clan head. Though really Shigechi only became the clan head after the destruction of Uzushiogakure on account of being one of only a few Uzumaki actually being left over. As for why Kushina wasn't clan head? It actually wasn't because she was a jinchuriki. Instead, it was because she was actually Hashirama's granddaughter (apparently she was actually Tsunade's cousin, which I suppose fit with all the other times jinchuriki were related to a Kage) and she and some other people had concerns about the head of the much smaller Uzumaki clan being in line to become the Senju clan head. The same went for why Tsunade or her dad didn't become the Uzumaki clan head, though apparently her dad wasn't as cool with the decision. Not that anyone even listened to him.

But that was in the past. Currently, I was talking jutsu with Kurama.

"Demon Infusion?" I offered, playing around the puppet and some red chakra. "Maybe if I make the yin chakra and yang chakra separately?" I thought.

Kurama gave a thoughtful hum. "It sounds fine, I guess, but why does it need to sound demonic?"

I shrugged. "I've heard of biju referred to as demons before, and giving myself a demonic motif just sounds cool."

"I suppose that that's as good a reason as any when dealing with you," he sighed. There was a bright flash from the window, illuminating the dark, dusky sky, and a crash of thunder followed a moment later. "Eeep!" Kurama... shrieked? That felt weird to say... So he... shrieked... and jumped into my arms.

I looked down at him flatly. "You do realize I'm working, right?"

He scoffed haughtily and turned his head away. "I was just... startled, is all."

I looked out the window, specifically at the heavily pouring rain. "You do realize that it's been overcast the whole day, right? And now it's pouring buckets."

"Shut up," he said as he jumped out of my arms and onto my desk.

"I can't do that, but I can change the subject," I offered. Kurama muttered something that could have been a "fine." "So do you think that I could get Six Paths Sage Mode if I got some chakra from all nine biju?"

He stared at me for a few moments. "Maybe? You do realize that the problem with this theory is that you need to get the chakra of all nine for this to work, yes?"

I shrugged. "True, but at the same time, I have yours and I'm hoping to get some of Shukaku's when I go over to Suna, so I'm almost one third of the way there already!"

He flicked his tail. "Perhaps you should think of an easier jutsu to obtain?"

I sighed. "You're probably right." I thought for a moment, then snapped my fingers. "Do you think I could make a Gudo Dama if I were to get all five chakra natures in red chakra?" I asked.

This took him a bit of thought as I fiddled with the puppet some more. "I... don't know. Maybe. If you count Shukaku's magnet release that you're hoping to obtain, you then have fire release and wind release from me and earth release and wind release from him. Assuming your theory works, you'll need water release from Isobu, Kokuo, Saiken, or Gyuki and lightning release from Chomei or Gyuki."

I nodded. "It seems that I'll have to engineer events so that I meet B if I don't want to wait like thirteen years for when I know Fuu is going to finally be out of Taki."

"That does seem like the most efficient way to find out, doesn't it?" He then somehow gave off the aura of a Cheshire cat smile despite having his face permanently stuck in a regular cat smile. "Too bad there's still so much animosity between Konoha and Kumo, huh?"

I gave a smile. An evil smile. "Oh, I know. I plan on using it." Okay, so I didn't really have any plans, but I have an image to keep up, y'know? Anyway, lightning struck at that moment, as if on cue. Yet again, Kurama shrieked and jumped into my arms. "You're sending mixed messages, you know? Do you want to stay in my arms or not?"

"Shut. It."

I smiled. "It's okay if you don't like lightning. I imagine that you used to get hit all the time, with how big you are..."

He grunted. "Guess that's one perk of being so fucking tiny..." I blinked. Oops. Probably shouldn't have pressed that particular button...

I was frantically thinking of which random topic to use to distract him with when the door suddenly burst open. "Nii-san!" Hinata tackle-hugged me.

I lightly chuckled as I closed the door with chakra threads. To keep up with the ruse that I was Hinata's bodyguard, my bedroom was placed close to hers, which was probably why she came to me. "You don't like lightning either, do you Hina-chan?" She shook her head slightly and buried her face deeper into my shoulder. "Don't worry, Kurama's afraid of it too." I idly remembered a funny video my dad showed me one day from this one movie called... Ted, I think it was. "Hey, you two could be thunder buddies!" I backed out of Hinata's hug and deposited Kurama in her hands. He glared at me for a moment before another flash of lightning caused the two to flinch into each other. "Well, I think our parents are done now and none of them brought an umbrella, so I'll be going now." I left, taking the umbrella that I'd bought some time ago with me.

kukukuku~

I decided that I rather like the rain, assuming I have an umbrella, at least. Having waterproof boots and not open-toed shoes probably helped a bit too. It felt calming seeing all of the water falling, plus with how high the water was I could practice water-walking! Speaking of practicing jutsu, I was also using puppetry jutsu on my little puppet to manipulate it into screwing around with a ball of my red chakra for me. I'd managed to make it luminesce even as I tried to prime it for the jutsu I was actually trying to make, which I was using like a lantern. "I probably need to put in the yin first..." I muttered as I got closer to their chakra signatures. I rounded a corner and saw all four of them standing under a awning. "Father, Mother, Uncle, Aunt," I greeted as they stared at me. "It's been cloudy all day, I didn't need my eyes to know it'd rain. At least one of you should have brought an umbrella."

"Thank you for coming to get us, Kouki-kun," Mother said. "But I don't think your umbrella will fit the five of us." I grinned, made a half ram seal with the hand holding the umbrella, and handed it to Father.

"Channel some chakra into it," I told him. I could tell he did what I asked when seals flared up on the umbrella and a chakra shield extended enough to fit everyone comfortably. "Rather simple chakra form change seals," I explained. "The final version's gonna have more options than just that." We started walking home under the cover of my umbrella. While the others were talking, I continued to mess with the puppet. After a while, something... clicked and I was finally able to combine the yin and yang without it canceling out and becoming normal red chakra. The altered red chakra was absorbed into the puppet, so I let the strings dissipate and dropped it onto my palm. Despite it being an inanimate object, it landed on its feet and stayed standing. With a mental command from me, the puppet started punching the air, but stopped after a bit and shrugged at me. I sighed.

"What's wrong, Kouki-kun?" aunt Hikaru asked.

"I just finished a jutsu I was working on, but to actually use it in battle, I'd need a lot more chakra than I have at the moment," I muttered.

She smiled. "I'm sure you'll be able to use it eventually."

I sighed. "Yeah, but..." I had a flash of inspiration and actually had to check that I hadn't accidentally activated my eyes from the sudden mental rush. I grinned. "Nyahahaha~ NYEEHAHAHAHAHA!~" Lightning crashed during my maniacal laugh, which was just great.

"That's probably not a good sign," uncle Hizashi noted.

kukukuku~

Kurama woke up feeling rather refreshed, so much so that he wasn't really that annoyed by the little girl snuggling up to him and trapping him. Stupid tiny toy body with almost no strength... The first thing he saw upon waking was the back of my office chair. "You know... you two are lucky I didn't need to sleep tonight, or I would've had you leave my room," my voice said from the other side of the chair.

"What do you want, Kouki?" Kurama asked.

I turned my chair around, revealing me stroking the puppet on my lap like it was a cat with a grin. What? My actual cat-shaped thing was occupied at the moment. "What do you know about... Pause for dramatic effect... Natural energy?"

"U-um, Kurama-san?" Hinata asked as she sat up. "Should I be worried about that?"

"Knowing Kouki, probably."

[flowerfan2]

Bound To Be Together: Ch. 19

McDanno, M, A03 A continuous story of Season 9 codas exploring the bond between Steve and Danny as they grow even closer.

Chapter 19: 9.19

“Thanks for helping me with this, Uncle D,” Eric says, handing Danny a beer.  “I owe you one.”

Danny nods and accepts the bottle, which is sweating nearly as much as he is, and takes a long swig. He’s spent the day helping Eric paint his new house, a one-story bungalow in Makiki.  Eric’s been saving his pennies for a while, but lab techs don’t make that much money, and his new place definitely needed some work.  A fresh coat of paint has done wonders, however, and Danny stands back and admires their efforts.

“Looks good, right D?” Eric says, wiping his face with his sleeve.  It’s unseasonably hot, and there’s no shade in sight.

“At least the paint does.” Danny gives Eric a little shove, and Eric pushes him back, smirking.

“At least I’m not living on your couch.”

“Amen to that.”

Eric is humming something, and then he grins and sings to Danny, horribly off key.  “So it’s a bit of a fixer-upper, it’s got a few flaws.” He makes a Vanna White-worthy gesture towards the house.  “We can fix this fixer-upper with a little bit of love!”

“I’m not gonna ask how you know the words to that song.”  Danny brushes a hand over his head, belatedly realizing that it’s still wet with paint, and groans.  It’s damn hard to get paint out of his hair.

Eric gives Danny an innocent look.  “Frozen? It’s a classic.  Just ask Charlie, he loves it.”

As if Danny could forget. Despite the annoyance of having his kid sing the same song off-key over and over – with even less talent than Eric – Danny smiles at the thought of Charlie dancing around in front of the television watching his current favorite movie.  “Do I have you to blame for his insistence on repeated viewings of said classic?”

Eric grins as he gathers the brushes and rollers and puts them in a pile to clean.  “Maybe.  Hey, I can pay you back for today with some babysitting, so you and Rachel can go out together again.”  

Danny squints at Eric, who is directing a hose at the pile of brushes and succeeding mostly in getting yellow paint splattered on the driveway, and frowns.  “Rachel and I didn’t go out together.”

 “A coulple of days ago, after work?  You were complaining about the food, said the pasta was mushy?”

 “That wasn’t… it was with Charlie.”

 “Exactly.  Next time I’ll babysit Charlie, and you won’t have to drag him along.”

 Eric puts an end to further conversation by tripping over the hose and spraying water all over Danny, who then has no choice but to get his nephew in a headlock and drench him. By the time they’ve calmed down, there is water and paint everywhere, and Danny has forgotten Eric’s offer completely.

 Later, still covered in paint and soaking wet, Danny pulls into his driveway, disappointed not to see Steve’s truck there.  He and Steve haven’t had a chance to hang out much over the past few days, busy with two separate cases.  While they often try to take their days off together, this week Danny took an extra day to help Eric, and somehow Steve didn’t take the hint and join in.   Not knowing whether it was an intentional snub or just an oversight, Danny didn’t mention it, although the day would have been a lot more fun with Steve there too.  

 Danny glances down at his phone before he gets out of his car.  He had texted Steve when he and Eric took a break for lunch, asking if he wanted to get together tonight.  Steve still hasn’t responded.  He knows Five-0 is done for the day, since Tani already texted him with some questions about Hirsch and gave him the run down of the day’s events.

 He hopes Steve isn’t annoyed at him.  He thinks back to Eric’s comment about babysitting, and remembers that Steve was there, too, during his rant about the overcooked pasta at the Sheraton.  Does Steve think something’s going on between him and Rachel?  Did Danny somehow forget to mention that it was a dinner for Charlie’s scout troop with about twenty other kids and their parents?  

 He frowns and shoots off another text.

 Everything okay? Offer’s still open.  I’m done at Eric’s, come over if you can.

 Danny goes to his door, briefly contemplating stripping off his paint splattered tank top and shorts before he goes in the house, but settles for taking off his drenched sneakers and leaving them on the mat.

 Once inside, he wanders into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator door, staring inside long enough to laugh at himself.  There’s nothing remotely interesting in there, unless you count half a dozen eggs and some leftover pad thai.  The freezer isn’t much better, but there’s a package of Charlie’s favorite ice cream sandwiches calling his name.  Danny takes one and leans heavily against the counter as he unwraps it and takes a bite. Mmm, dinner of champions, he thinks to himself wryly.  

 His phone pings with a text. Finally.

 I’ll be there.

 Steve’s a man of few words, but at least he’s on his way.  Danny considers ordering a pizza, but that always runs the risk that Steve will be annoyed at his unhealthy food choice, or just that he ordered without consulting him.  But if he texts him to ask about dinner, they might start arguing before Danny has a chance to even see the guy.  He decides he’ll wait until Steve arrives, and then see what he’s in the mood for.

 Danny’s in the shower, scrubbing the sweat and yellow paint splatters off his skin, when he hears the bathroom door open.  Before he manages to peek around the curtain and say hi, Steve reaches in and grabs his arm, leaning in to plant a fierce kiss on his lips that gets him going faster than he would have thought possible.

 “Holy crap,” Danny breathes out, as Steve crowds into the shower with him and proceeds to kiss down Danny’s chest, apparently not at all concerned about the fact that he hasn’t taken any of his own clothes off.  “Steve, are you – not that I’m objecting, but – oh, fuck…”  Danny loses the capacity for rational thought when Steve sucks his half-hard cock into his mouth and begins to work it with his tongue.  

 The sight of Steve taking him down, head bobbing on his cock, wet hair plastered to his head, is one Danny isn’t likely to forget anytime soon.  His legs are getting wobbly and he grabs at Steve’s shoulders, the wet cotton of his shirt bunching under his fingers.  Steve keeps on going, hands firm on Danny’s hips, and doesn’t let up until Danny comes so hard he practically falls down.

 Steve doesn’t give him a chance, though, tugging him out of the shower and into the bedroom, where he strips off his own wet clothes in record time.  Danny tries to reach for Steve, to get his hand around him, but Steve shakes his head.

 “Not this time.”  He manhandles Danny over onto his stomach, and gives his ass a firm squeeze.  “I’ve got something else in mind.”  Steve plasters himself over Danny’s back, his cock pressing hot against Danny’s skin, and whispers roughly into his ear.  “What do you say?  You up for it?”

 They haven’t done anal before, but Steve is clearly on fire right now, and Danny’s been thinking about it for ages.  “Yeah. Yeah.”

 Steve leans in for a hard kiss, tongue darting in and out, while his fingers find their way to Danny’s hole.  He finds the lube somewhere along the way, and preps Danny quickly, stretching him until Danny is writhing back up against him and, much to his embarrassment, pretty much begging for more.

 When Steve finally gets lined up and pushes in, all the air rushes out of his lungs, and Danny thinks for a minute that he might pass out.  But Steve is shushing him and rubbing his hands up and down his sides, and soon he’s pressing back again, eager for Steve to move.  Danny realizes he’s hard again and Steve gets a hand around him, working him over front and back.  It’s almost too much to take, and Danny lets himself go, lost in it, Steve all around him.

 It’s over all too fast as Steve comes with a muffled shout, face pressed against the back of Danny’s neck, and Danny’s own orgasm rushes through him.

 Steve rolls off Danny, one hand still possessively spread over the small of his back.  It takes a little while for things to come back into focus, but Danny is in no rush.  He’s pretty sure he’s just been introduced to the real meaning of “fucked out,” and it’s a beautiful thing.

 Finally Danny has to shift, and he stretches slowly, testing out just how sore he might be tomorrow. It feels way too good for him to care. He ends up on his side facing Steve, who has a blissed out look on his face that fills Danny with pleasure.

 “Guess you weren’t worried about me having dinner with Rachel the other night, huh?”

 The blissed out look on Steve’s face disappears so fast Danny shivers.  

 “I didn’t say that.” Steve blinks and sits up, the sheet pooling at his waist.  He’s staring at Danny, his face gone horribly blank.

 “Look, Steve, there’s nothing going on between me and Rachel.  Promise.”

 “It’s not over, Danny.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Rachel doesn’t want it to be over.  Amanda made that clear.  And until you make it clear…”

 “Steve,” Danny pleads, sitting up.  He doesn’t know how they’ve gone from blisteringly hot sex to this so quickly.  “There’s nothing.  Really.��� He reaches for Steve but Steve practically flinches, so his hand winds up fluttering aimlessly near Steve’s arm before he gives up and rests it on the bed next to them.  “I am not getting back together with Rachel.  I’m really not.  What do I have to do to convince you?”

 Steve pulls himself up straighter, squaring his shoulders.  “There’s going to come a time, soon, when you can’t avoid the question anymore.  Rachel will suggest a dinner out, and when you get there, you’ll see it’s just the two of you at a restaurant with candles and low lighting.”  His tone is so bitter, Danny can hardly stand it.  “Or she’ll brush a kiss along your cheek when she says goodbye, her lips getting just to the edge of your mouth…”

 “That’s not gonna happen.”

 “It is,” Steve says firmly. “And when it does,” Steve’s face finally loses the scary blank look, and instead his eyes widen with emotion. “Choose me, Danny.  Choose me.”

[troubleisfree]

this is going to be like a very long, detailed, and mostly my personal observations and notes. as it was my first time seeing neymar and the brazil nt in person, i want to remember everything i can while its still fresh. it was a very exciting and at the same time surreal experience because i see those people all the time on tv games and now there they were few feet away from me...

i took the photos and videos. i am usually pretty good at that but i guess the excitement got the better of me because they did not come out fabulous. tumblr is being stupid with not letting me upload more then one video in a post, and i wanted everything together, so i ended up putting them up on youtube.

the hotel 9/3/2018.

so first i went to the hotel (very close to where i live) on monday 9/3. as it was labor day, i was off work and at a bbq/pool party abt 10 miles from home for the day. brazil nt was scheduled to leave the hotel for their first training at 4pm so i left the party early and, after some traffic drama, made it to the hotel little after 3.40pm. there were not too many people so i had a decent view but i also moved around a bit. some of the support staff was coming out already. a few minutes later, firmino was the first i saw, he waved and went straight to the bus.

then a group of marquinhos, douglas costa, fabinho etc came out together. only marquinhos paid any attention to the fans, waving and smiling but didnt stop.

then another group, including casemiro.

then alisson came out. he was really sweet, smiled, stopped with the fans, signed stuff. interacted the most of anyone else with the fans. 

then another group - i think richarlison (idk him really), filipe luis, thiago silva. thiago was just as nice as alisson, stopped with the fans, signed stuff. he looked to me a bit shorter irl then on tv...

willian came out alone next.

at this point, it was almost 4pm, my excitement had totally built up and i was so anxious to see my boy ney. i started thinking that maybe he will get there separately cuz i hadnt seen coutinho and tite either. but there he was! coming out last with barely a minute to spare before 4pm (the timestamp on my photo is 3:58:59pm lol). he was the very last one to come out, chewing on something, with his typical swagger. he waved but didnt stop and the bus left as soon as he got on. he looked just as hot in person as on tv, the cameras dont lie lol. really handsome and very very sexy! i mean, i expected it, i have seen his photos lol but omg he looks so damn good you cant help those dirty thoughts! i felt like an absolute fangirl! this is neither here or there, but he looked to me a little bigger then i expected. just kinda...fuller?

i only took one photo of him cuz i wanted to look at him with my own eyes rather than thru the camera ;)

it was such an incredible experience seeing neymar and the rest of the guys in person so close that i was shaking after! like for real my hands were shaking, my legs were shaking. and i couldnt stop grinning for a good half an hour after. i went to the boardwalk to calm down a bit and just absorb the experience. people passing by probably thought im crazy or reading love letters on my phone or something cuz i just couldnt stop grinning but i didnt give a flying fuck what they were thinking - i had just seen neymar!

my notes and impressions:

1. OMFG I SAW NEYMAR FROM FEW FEET AWAY. just that, my brain was really way too frazzled to process any other impressions lol

the game 9/7/2018

so after some c. drama, despite my initial hopes, i had accepted that i am not going to go to the game. and then the day before i find out I AM GOING!!! i was so freaked out with excitement lol!!!

getting there was so frustrating! first i had forgot to charge my phone before leaving work so i only had like 30% which was nowhere near good enough for my plans of copious pics and vids. so i had to run into a bodega to buy a charger for the car. then for some complicated reason we had to leave from the ues and fucking DRIVE. crosstown. on a friday. at 6pm. straight thru freakin time square with its gazillion tourists. on top of rush hour. even though the schedule said 8pm, the tickets said the event starts at 7.30 and i wanted to be there early to see the warmups and at 7.02 we were still not even inside lincoln tunnel ffs! i was FUMING and ready to jump outta the car and start yelling at the other cars to get a goddamn fucking move on i got places to be people to see! just ugh. so frustrating. the only upside of taking so long to get to the stadium was that by the time we got there my phone was almost 100%...

anyway, finally at 7.25pm we got there and thru all the checks etc (my joke of a miniature purse was shown as an example to another girl with a slightly bigger purse and praised by security for being perfect size which pissed me off because of their dumbass rules it had is smaller then my regular WALLET ffs and it barely even fits my phone so in no way is it a ‘perfect size’ except maybe for dolls or tiny aliens. but they had the stupid clear bag / tiny purse rule in effect and all i cared at that point was getting in so whatever. still, fucking terrorists. obviously also for more important reasons than just being the cause of my having to have a tiny purse but yeah fucking terrorists). 

the stadium was buzzing already. apparently the 7.30 start was for the warmups so perfect for me. this was the view from our seats.

when we got to our seats, the usa team was out already. and the canarinho was interacting with fans. and then brazil came out. 

ney was warming up with coutinho

after stretches, he did some practice shooting. this one didnt go in.

after that the team went back inside and the canarinho came behind the barriers to interact with the fans (photo below especially taken for a.)

time for the teams to come out. for some reason the tunnel was on my side of the stadium but the benches were on the other side and they lined up there for the anthems. (again, for a.)

then the us anthem and, since we dont do things here on a small scale, the flag rolled out was the size of the whole stadium lol

in the first half neymar was playing in front of me. in the beginning of the game i took a few photos and then i stopped because i wanted to watch the game and see with my own eyes not concentrate on the phone... still, here they are

here is the penalty. i didnt catch it go in because i was looking at it happening rather then my phone. i also removed the sound cuz there was screaming when it went in lol. it was a VERY soft penalty btw...

my notes and impressions:

1. it was a friendly so not surprisingly, it was not an edge-of-your-seat game. still brazil dominated the crap out of the usa team. the difference in class and quality was glaringly obvious.

2. it was strange not supporting my country’s team. but only when i thought about it. otherwise my soccering heart belongs to brazil 100%, without a doubt.

3. watching a game live vs tv: both have pros and cons. again, after watching every week on tv, seeing these guys live in person is simply incredible. just absolutely surreal. like, they are moving, running, kicking right in front of you. you can hear the ball being kicked. feel the tension. see what they are doing without the ball. watch their interactions away from the camera. feel the power of the crowd. its just so much more immersive. at the same time, watching at home the curated game content is... convenient. you get closeups. you get facts from the commentators. your bathroom is nearby (i did carefully time my liquid intake that day to avoid venturing into stadium bathrooms and thank god it worked lol). so imo, watching a game on tv is not really that much worse then watching it live. i always felt like i am getting a completely filtered version on tv and it is filtered but it is not horrible. yes, you are missing out on stuff but its not a total loss.

4. the stadium was about 40% full, 32k of 82k capacity. but it felt more like 2/3, probably because on the other side many sections were not even open so most everyone attending was spread out in one long side and the two goal sides.

5. brazil fans were out strong! i’d say about 70% of the people were brazil fans, and of those about 90% had on brazil jerseys. yellow galore lol. the usa fans were constantly chanting but when the brazil fans decided to make the effort they drowned them out easily and completely!

6. the usa fans were in the section behind one of the goals. throughout most of the game i thought oh cute they are constantly singing their hearts out supporting their clearly outplayed loosing team. then they did iceland’s viking chant. yes, it is a cool chant but its iceland’s. idk why so many have been plagiarizing it! first portugal did it in the wc, then i saw another, and now the american outlaws (the usa ultras)... let iceland have its thing people. i did not appreciate it but no big deal. BUT then they did something that pissed me off - few minutes before neymar was substituted in the 80 min they chanted fuck neymar. i was not best pleased to say the least! lick sweaty balls jealous motherfuckers!

7. we did a wave that went around the stadium like 4 times!

8. there was a small group of 13-14yo girls right behind us that whenever ney touched the ball or looked our way screamed ‘neymaaaarrr, neymaaaaarrrrrrrr, vaiiiiiii, vai neymaaaaaaarrrrrrrr’. one girl in particular was especially shrill and vociferous in her dedication to ney. no sense of decorum whatsoever lol. my bf was smirking at me and was like why dont you go sit with them. i on the other hand was thinking that while i wouldnt go sit with them, if some of my tumblr girls were here.... well those girls wouldnt even know what hit them!

9. i would definitely go to a game again! 

10. while the seats we had were really good, i wish there was an option to be even closer and still see the whole pitch. then again, for me it would probably only qualify as ‘close enough’ if im allowed to run along the sidelines lol. but then i wont really be able to watch the game. (hey maybe i can hang from the skycam hahaaaa!). yes, i am a neymar fan but i am also a fan of the game so i want both. i did not have any input in the choice of these seats but i think it was a good trade off - the closest where you can both see the guys and actual game. if i have to pick the tickets for the next game (hopefully i will go again some time!), i would be tempted by the lower levels but the barriers are pretty high so... i would probably go for the same - second level first row.

11. there was a guy sitting next to me with his date and he was trying to be all knowledgeable and impress the girl but half the stuff he was telling her was wrong lol! he kept pointing to douglas costa and telling her its firmino. i was cracking myself up listening to him talk complete bullshit but with such grand authority about technical game stuff.

12. at some point a loose ball ended up into the stands, some guy caught it, and 2 min later security came to take it away from him :/ why not let the guy just keep the ball?!? stupid. if it was me, i’d have made a fuss, maybe pretended that it hit me in the face and threatened to sue the stadium cuz they have not ensured the spectators’ safety or some such crap lol. see if they dont let me keep it to avoid a lawsuit.

13. the canarinho (for a.) - he was really great! interacting with the fans, dancing, hugging fans. really a fantastic mascot and absolute joy to watch! during the halftime he was out on the pitch, doing keepie uppies (in those shoes too!!! showing his brazilianness lol), and kicking balls into the stands

14. i was totally impressed by neymar. it was just so obvious how good he is and no, not because i am biased, which i admittedly am. i expected him to be good, duh, but to see it so clearly was amazing. he is not a fluke, he is the real deal. he stands out among even such quality peers as the rest of brazil nt! just something in the way he interacts with the ball, the way he moves, ‘sees’ his teammates without looking, turns on a dime, does the unexpected. i dont think he ‘thinks’ or ‘calculates’ at all his moves or that it is just a lot of practice, i think it is pure instinct in the moment, i.e. phenomenal natural talent. even though this was not one of his greatest games for sure, he just looked... special and different from the rest. most of the brazil players were displaying their clearly high quality but there is just something unique in the way neymar plays. even if you dont know who he is, what teams are playing, anything at all, you’d still pick him out and know that there is something extraordinary about this guy. if you unfocus your eyes so you see just all same yellow shirt figures, you would still be able to pick out which one is neymar. he did a bit of his skills and tricks and of course i wished he had done more. what i took away from watching him play live was that, in this average game, he looked as good playing live as he has in the past when i have watched his great games on tv. i dont know why. but watching neymar play live was an experience of its own. it felt like his average ‘live’ performance is as good as his great ‘tv’. i cant even imagine what it would be like watching one of his great performances live. while i dont feel im loosing so much watching games on tv vs live as mentioned above, i definitely feel that watching neymar in particular play live is on another level and im missing out when i watch him on tv instead of live. he is absolutely worth the price of admission. i was so disappointed in him for his wc antics but thats in the past now, and i have been reminded how right it feels to be his fan, not just for the nice things he does for kids/charity, his fun personality (and lets not forget the good looks, and oh boy they are SO GOOD lol) but his undeniably outstanding talent on the pitch. his game is just incredible. i hope he keeps healthy. i hope he gets his temper under control not just for a few games but for good. and i pray he always has the freedom to shine like he rightfully can. i am rooting for him to get the appreciation and acknowledgement he deserves, unadulterated by behavioral issues or personal drama.

ok, imma stop now. this post is huge, even by my standards. 

[anaxgardner]

Couple #2: Jayce and Axel

Jayce Malcom Kennedy

Jayce is a young surgical intern who was wants to specialise in paediatric and neonatal cardiothoracic surgery and specifically focus his career on helping infants with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS); a condition he himself had as an infant. At the time he was born the standard surgery for this birth defect, the Norwood procedure, was still pioneering and a doctor took a chance on him. He had three surgeries before the age of three and finally a heart transplant at the age of 12. His experiences as a child and the gratitude he has towards that doctor that saved his life drove him to do the same for others. He has an identical twin brother (who was unaffected by his condition), an older sister and a younger brother. His parents divorced when he was 11 and he stayed with his mother into his adolescence, struggling in college initially he worked hard; he started medical school but through diligence graduated at the top of his class and got residency on a paediatric ward, after applying late. He has a confident, tenacious personality with strong aspirations that his determined to reach. Though he’s incredibly work focussed he ensures he makes time for personal affairs and gives his husband the love and attention he deserves (even if Alex can be a brat and demand more).

Age: 26

Ethnicity: Caucasian.

Nationality: American.

Height: 5ft 10in.

Eye Color: Green.

Hair Color: Blond.

Tattoos/Piercings: None.

Kinks: He’s pretty vanilla in the bedroom, though Axel helped encourage him to explore his more kinky side through out their relationship. This made Jayce realised he preferred a more dominant role in, both in and outside of the bedroom, and enjoys the softer side of BDSM; this isn’t to say he doesn’t indulge Axel in some of his more hardcore fetishes, but he himself leans more towards the tame side, though he enjoys both.  He also prefers watching Axel in most Omorashi scenarios but also partakes from time to time, especially when Axel is in a mood. He didn’t realise his Omo kink until after seeing Axel have an accident one night...

Bladder stuff: Jayce is definitely on the strong side when it comes to bladder capacity: being a doctor he s expected to be able a go time without breaks and theres definitely no time for a potty break on a paediatric ward. Though he’s been pushed to the brink a few times he’s generally able to cope without a bathroom break all day remarkably well. He also has no qualms in social situations excuse himself due to his confident nature, though he finds it difficult to admit his true needs as he tends to be over confident about his holding ability and sees it as a sign of weakness in some case; I.e. he’d have no issue excusing himself during a gathering once he’s seen others do so (sometimes multiple time) but he’d never be the one to do so first.

He can often recall one time on a road trip with friends he’d forgotten t use the restroom upon waking up that morning but because he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone or admit he needed a break he sat there in agony the entire drive. He didn’t even allow himself to go when another friend asked several times, since that friend was teased relentlessly about having a small bladder, he had too much pride to do that. He’s now a lot more cautious about using the bathroom when he gets the chance (as long as he’s sure other people won’t notice or comment).

Favourite beverage (alcoholic and non-alcoholic): As a doctor he runs on coffee but also ensures he remains healthy by drinking lots of water, it’s no problem since he has a big, strong bladder right..? Anyway, he has a rather high tolerance to alcohol as usually sticks to beer during social events (when he’s not the designated driver, which is rare) but prefers stronger spirits such as scotch when he has the time to indulge himself.

How he met his partner:  Between long hours at school, then even longer hours at work, Jayce was no stranger to the small coffee shop he passed walking back and forth every day.  The small shop had quite a few regulars, and even though he was on the heels of a horrible break-up, one of the regulars in particular caught Jayce’s eye, but he could never bring himself to say anything.  Lucky for him, he didn’t have to.  Although the regular barista in the coffee shop knew him very well, he thought it was odd when he walked in and she already had his drink ready, sliding it across the counter to him.  When he picked it up, he noticed unfamiliar scribbling on the side of the cup.  The unfamiliar scribbling was a phone number, and when he asked the barista who the writing belonged to, she pointed across the room to a very familiar face, and finally, Jayce was finally able to put a name with the face: Axel.

Jacob Axel Warren

Jacob, who goes by Axel and won’t acknowledge being called anything else “Jacob’s not as cool and I’m cool so shut up!” Axel grew up an only child to a single mother and remains close to her even now he’s grown up and married. He left high school at 18, having been a big part in the schools theatre club and decided against going into college, knowing the strain financially that would put on his mom. Instead he took a new path. He has always loved being on stage, being able to dress up and take on another persona. He himself growing up as a rather reserved, quiet child acting had given him the opportunity to forget his shyness and adorn the mask of someone else; taking on an active role in drama at school helped him come out of his shell and become more comfortable in himself.

By the time he left school he found himself in a large group of friends ranging from all different backgrounds, one friend in particular was very into the gay scene in New York. This friend introduced him to so many larger than life people, taking Axel to nightclubs and drag shows, when one night Axel realised what he wanted to do next. Stripping. The lights, the music, the movements, he became enamoured with it all- and don’t even get him started on the wardrobe.

Growing up he never went without, his mom made sure of that, but the weren’t made of money. When he asked for a name brand of something, he’d get the item he wanted but an off-brand. He would never resent his mom for that if anything he appreciates she went through the effort to get him something similar, but that hadn’t helped with the teasing he already got at school. Compared to everything he’d known in his short lie so far, everything about the strip club seems so glamorous to him and fun and the money was as good as you made it- he wanted in. His friends introduced him to the staff and they took him on as a bartender at barneys (which is what his mom still thinks he does for a living, though she’d be supportive it’s a rather awkward conversation to have..at this point she probably knows already but out of mutual respect they both continue with the bartender schtick). During off hour he was allowed to practise on the pole and it didn’t take long for his talents to be realised and he was taken on full time at the club becoming their headline performer.

Age: 24.

Ethnicity: Caucasian.

Nationality: Italian-American.

Eye color: Blue.

Hair color: Dark.

Height: 5ft 7in.

Tattoos/Piercings: No tattoos but he did get his ear pierced at 14 behind his moms back, meaning he had to continuously take it in and out. This lead to it getting infected and having to be removed at the hospital. After the hefty bill, looks of disapproval and traumatic ER experience, Axel decided against anymore piercings.

Kinks: Axel likes a lot of things. A lot. Of things. He’ll try anything ones and has tried most things. But he enjoys things that he and his partner can both do together and like equally- making Omorashi his favourite. As a natural sub he likes seeing the other persons enjoyment as much as he enjoys it himself and Omo is one of those things.

Bladder stuff: Axel’s bladder in on the smaller side, much to his annoyance. He hates having to take breaks from what he’s doing to tend to it and has an aversion to public restrooms and especially having to answer natures call while actually out in nature. He also is rather shy when admitting he needs to use the bathroom again so instead tries to wait until someone else says they have to go. All of these things contribute to him being caught short very often, much to Jayce’s delight. Both in and out of the bedroom Axel’s rather prone to accidents- even if it is just due to his stubbornness.

Favourite beverage (alcoholic and non-alcoholic): Axel has a sweet tooth so any kind of sugary drink is his favourite. He like sweet alcohol too such as fruity cocktails and mixed drinks; an unfortunate (or fortunate for some people) a side effect from the lack of that alcoholic afterburn is he’s likely to down them quickly one after another before he feels the full effect from them. Meaning they all hit him at once. And his bladder. When they’re out in public its usually a struggle;

Jayce: “I think that’s enough for now-“

Axel: “You don’t tell me what to do Mr. Man!”

Jayce: “Well, actually I do but I’d rather not have to spank you in front of all these people so lets slow down shall we?”

Axel: “Shhhsuushsuhhhhh I’m fiiiiiiine.”

Jayce: “Ax-“

Axel: “I said I’m fine! Gimme back my sweet juice it tastes good I’m fine!”

              *ten minutes later*

Axel: “HHRRBBBBLEEEEUGH- I’m sorry I’m sorry I should’ve listened to you I- BRRRRHEAUGH!”

Jayce: “Shh, it’s okay baby let it happen”

Axel: “I’m never drinking again- HUURRK!”

              *the next day*

Jayce: “Afternoon, Sunshine!”

Axel: *Grumbles*

Jayce: “How you feeling, love?”

Axel: “Awful something must’ve been wrong with the food, the chicken was a little pink-“

Jayce: “You’re serious?”

Axel: “What?”

Jayce: “’I’m never drinking again?’”

Axel: “Well yeah, I- Well barbeque and long island ice tea doesn’t’ taste great together and-“

Jayce:...

Axel: “I- Oh, shut up!”

Jayce: “Do you want bacon?”

Axel: “Yes, I want bacon!”

Jayce: “Okay, sweetheart.”

Axel: “And waffles!”

Jayce: “How could I forget?”

Axel: “With a metric-fuckton of syrup! And turn the lights off they’re too loud!”

Jayce: “Anything you want my hungover little prince.”

Axel: *Grumbles*

Jayce: “What was that baby?”

Axel: *Grumbles louder*

Jayce: “One more time honey?

Axel: “I LOVE YOU ASSHOLE!”

Jayce: “I love you too, I take it I need to change the sheets, hm?”

Axel: *Intense whiny, grumbles*

How did they meet their partner: Axel had watched for weeks as the tall blonde came in and out of the coffee shop, too nervous to speak up and say anything, but too intrigued by him to let it go.  He’d watch as he came by in the mornings wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and occasionally he would be there at night when the guy came by in slacks and a button-up.  Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.  He got up especially early one morning and pulled the barista, Tiffany, aside before she got too busy.  As he asked for her help, her eyes lit up, and she quickly agreed to his plan.  She handed him an empty coffee cup, and he wrote his name and number on the side.  The waves in the writing showed how much his hand was shaking while he was doing it.  Now all there was to do was sit back and wait.  Axel’s heart started to race as he finally noticed the blonde walking towards the door.  His hand started to shake and his breathing picked up, but when he noticed the number on the cup, and Tiffany pointed in Axel’s direction, their eyes locked, and it felt as if his heart had stopped completely.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

Tears Dry on Their Own

Summary: Quédate Un Ratito Más sequel. Isadora’s relationship falls apart. After a period of mourning, she comes to an important realization.

Rating: M -  Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language.

Explicit depictions of extra-marital relationships and intense depression. Explicit, non-graphic mentions of drug use. Reader discretion is highly advised.

Words: 1618

Notes: “Hey, Ariane,” you may say, “You’ll really gonna write a sequel for a two-note-fic no-one really cared about?”

Yes. Yes, I will. I actually did.

Why? Masochism.

Enjoy.

Isadora feels like she is suffocating in her room, but she does not feel like it to go out and face the sun. Inside was a place too much have happened, the painful memories of the past months threaten to consume her conscious, but it was still more inviting than the daunting outside world.

She called the school in advance. For all they knew, she was horribly sick, down with a particularly virulent form of the common cold. You would not want an infectious teacher around your children, would you?

The thing was, what caused the young woman so much pain was not something you could catch. Most people did not even understand it.

Hell, even she had her share of trouble wrapping her head around it.

She thought she was used to what things were. She did not understand why she let herself yearn for more.

Perhaps that is the thing, it is not that she would had liked something more, but because Chris had taken away what she actually had.

That is it. What caused Isadora so much crippling pain. The good, old sour grapes. Breakup blues.

Not that she is actually entitled to it, she considers. If it were an actual disease, her insurance would not cover it. After all, Chris Winters was not her boyfriend, not her husband.

No, she was just the other woman.

Yesterday, nay, yesternight, Chris knocked at her door around midnight. It was not unlike him to come by so late, but instead of the joyful, thrilled and yet secretive tone he used to time his fist hitting the wood, it was more of a depressed note.

When she opened the door, his face fared no better. He had deep, dark circles around his bloodshot eyes, his stubble was unkempt and his breath smelled of alcohol. Fearing for the worse, something akin to a cocaine bender, she ushered him in and set him on the couch.

For a long moment, he said nothing, made no sound. Isadora was reasonably worried, but did not press. She could see he was mustering his nerve to speak of something grave, and it would be of no help her nagging on his ear.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, “Isa, I think we should break up.”

“What?” She scoffed, taken aback. “Why?”

“Look, we gotta be realists here. We’re not getting anywhere. I can’t get a divorce, the press is on my case again and you deserve more than sneaking around with a dirtbag like me.” He says, not once raising his eyes to face her. “I think we should just cut our losses on whatever this is and move on.”

“Chris, you’re being absurd.” She responded, monotone, the way she lectures one of the kids on her care.

“Am I?” His voice flared with anger. “Can you tell me sincerely you don’t want to have a proper date night? That’s okay if some tabloid paparazzo ruins the quiet life I know you love so? That you’re happy being some Hollywood type’s dirty little secret?”

She took his hand, and he did not try to move it. “Do I want a normal boyfriend, who does normal stuff with me? Yeah, I do want it. But the thing is, I love you, and you’re not a normal person. I’d rather have whatever with you than a storybook romance with anybody else.”

At that moment, Chris takes his hand away and hides his face on them. He breathed heavily and seemed like he would shout or cry. He does nothing of the sort.

Instead, he sighs and runs his hands though his greasy blond hair. “She’s pregnant.”

Isadora needs no further explaining. She knows who is pregnant, and why this is relevant. She feared this moment for months, now.

“When?” It was her follow-up question.

“Last month, on her birthday.” He responds. “We drank too much. It happened.”

She breathes out. “You said you slept on separate bedrooms. That you barely spoke to each other.”

“We did. We do. It just… happened.” That was his excuse.

“My wife is a shrew. I know that, I said that many times, now.” He continues. “But now she’s also the mother of my child, goddamnit. I owe it to them to at least try to make it work.”

“What if it was the reverse, Chris? What if I was the one who have gotten pregnant?” The blonde woman asks, bitterly. “What would you do then?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “Don’t go hypothetical on me, Isadora. This is serious.”

“You already answered it.” She barks. “Just… leave, Chris. I got your message loud and clear.”

He rose to his feet and tried to walk towards her crowing figure on a corner of the living room. “Isadora, I…”

“No!” She cuts him off and points to the door. “Just go. I don’t want your apologies.”

Chris looks at her once more, his eyes twinkling with unshed tears, and then he left, saying nothing more.

That was three days ago. Isadora has not seen or heard of him ever since, despite having a TMZ alert on her cell phone. Perhaps out of pure masochism.

Her stomach rumbled, but there was no more food in the house. She had slowly consumed it all during her quarantine, but she felt no strength to order in. A foul stench came from the kitchen, no doubt the piling dishes and accumulated trash.

She groaned loudly, scratched her unwashed, messy hair, and decided she needed to stand up. At least to put the garbage out, the smell was indeed terrible.

Tying her hair on a careless knot, she dragged herself to the kitchen, gathered the smelly stuff on a couple of plastic bags and walked like a death row inmate to the front door of her apartment.

If Isadora was in full capacity of her mental faculties, she might have checked on the peephole if there was someone on the hallway, lest someone sees her on her mopey pyjamas and smeared, three-day-old make-up.

It was not the case.

Just as soon as she opens the door, Seth turns around and looks her dead in the eye and tries, with little success, to supress his surprise with the state of deterioration of her appearance.

As for Isadora herself, she liked Seth, she really did. The fact stands the man was a comedian, and he would likely to try and cheer her up, and she did not want to be cheered up. She wanted to mope to the end of time.

“For a moment there I was worried Rocket had assumed human form.” The man comments, humoured.

Ah, yes. The jokes. She forgot about the jokes.

“Hey, Seth.” She greets, not really into it.

“You look like shit, Iowa.” He presses on. “What happened?”

She figured the best policy was the truth. She would not be able to make up anything realistic and believable which was also better than what she was actually going through.

“It’s just a bad breakup, Seth. Nothing to worry about.” She responded, her voice sounding awfully dead.

He looked ready to dispute her claim, but chose not to do it. Instead, he said, “So, mystery guy is off the cards now? Sorry for hear it.”

Seth had acquired the habit of calling Chris her ‘mystery guy’, as he did not know who he was, nor she was willing to part to any details about his identity.

“I guess that’s life.” She shrugged it off.

He looked at her impassively. “Look, Iowa, I swear I’m not using your misery to haggle myself an audience, but I’m having a show tonight, if you want to show up. Some air might do you good.”

She sighed. “Look, Seth, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m really not on the mood. Right now, all I want is just to lay in the dark.”

“I get it, I get it, worth the shot.” He raised his hands in mock-surrender. “I guess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to muster him a smile, it must have come out as a grimace.

He disappears down the stairs, as she walks slowly through the hallway until she reaches the dumpster outside.

Hours later, as Isadora nurses a bowl of cereal on her stomach, she hears the sound of paper hustling on the hallway. She walks to the door and finds the program for Seth’s show that night.

She picks it up and her first instinct is to trash it, but then she reconsiders.

“What are you doing to yourself, Isadora?” She asks out loud, to herself. “You’re slipping away!”

Isadora Andel was a strong woman in a long line of strong women. Her mother and grandmother were widows, and they ran the family estate with an iron fist, in spite of the crippling pain of losing their beloved husbands, and the taxating task of caring for small children alone.

They did not sulk around the corners. She, herself, did not either. She shed no tears over what happened at Tender Nothings, and the idea of crying over any other of her break-ups always seemed laughable.

She loved Chris, yes, and it hurt when he left her, but it was no excuse to become a depressed hermit. It was no excuse to forego her hygiene. It was no excuse to cry three days in a row.

“You’re a self-respecting woman, for God’s sakes!” She shouts. “Snap out of it this instant!”

Seth had a point, fresh air could only do her some good, and even if she laughed at none of the performers’ jokes, at least she would force herself to take a shower and brush her teeth.

Besides, Seth was a good friend, he was a good person. At the very least, she owed it to him to go and cheer him on.

It felt like a terrible chore, but she dragged herself to the bathroom. She would attend the event.

Once dressed and opening the front door to leave, Isadora considers she may be a long way from okay, but she would be damned if she spent another minute feeling sorry for herself on a dark corner of her apartment.

Tears dry on their own, after all.

[housexoxohearts]

30 Days of Autism Acceptance: Day 1

Prompt taken from the 30 Days of Autism Acceptance.

[ Image Description: Me and my cousin’s four-year-old daughter, who we’ve suspected is also autistic, perhaps with ADHD. I took this photo on my cell phone camera in the “self-we” style as we sat at a park bench. I’m a woman with metal-rimmed glasses and long dark hair. My niece (as I call her) is a little girl with brown hair tied back into a ponytail with a pink hair tie. We’re both wearing black shirts. We’re both smiling, enjoying our family vacation, posing for a picture. End Description. ]

The name I go by is Michaela Hearts. You can call me Mickey, Mick, or anything, really. I'm currently 24 years old, but I'll be 25 in June. And, as many of you know, I'm autistic.

Be warned, content ahead is a long read, and contains mentions of Autism Speaks, the cure rhetoric, ableism (from the world and internalized), bullying, and abuse.

I was professionally diagnosed at the age of three and 3/4 years, in the year of 1997. Apparently, I had always displayed a lack of interest in social interactions, and was hardly verbal until the age of 5. I would often play by myself, and in repetitive fashion. My father recounted the days I would strip dolls down and wrap them in washcloths, unwrap them, and repeat this sequence for long stretches of time, all the while so engrossed with such activities that I wouldn’t interact with anything else. I was hardly affectionate with my brother or my cousins, in spite of their warm friendliness and interest in playing with me. I ignored my oldest cousin’s (the mother of the little girl in the photo, heh) outstretched arms for a hugs for a very long time. (At some point, though, I eventually gave in, but not without an irritated sigh, lol.)

The diagnosing doctor explained autism to my parents in a way that broke down all expectations that I could ever live independently, or make anything of myself. My parents tried to work around these expectations placed on me and my brother (who would later be diagnosed with Asperger’s), but it was difficult. I wouldn’t say it was because of us. No, not at all. This was the age, after all, during which detrimental misinformation about autism was spread. And, with hardly any other resources at hand, my parents unfortunately fell into the collective misconception that their children’s autism was the result of heavy-metal poisoning from a serum found in vaccines, the fixed capacity of autistic functioning (functioning labels), and---worst of all---that our autism was a sickness that could be treated (or cured) with organic changes to our lifestyle.

I say that, though I’m fortunate enough that nobody in my family has been subjected to Bleach Therapy. Though my parents were convinced that organic-restricted diets and special salt baths could “ease symptoms of autism,” they at least had common sense enough to not give us bleach. And they eventually stopped their “treatments” as we grew tired of these routines that didn’t at all make us feel good (not to mention, didn’t do anything with our autism).

Through all this, I never realized. I had no idea I was autistic. My parents never explained any of these concepts to me. Whenever I was troubled by bullies at school who targeted me for being “weird,” every adult simply reassured me that I was “unique.” Which, you know, that’s nice and all, but... It didn’t explain why I was like this.

It didn’t explain why certain smells---that almost no one else picked up on---hurt my head so bad and made my stomach churn. It didn’t explain why certain sounds pierced my ears and painfully traveled down my spine, which in turn made me want to scream and hurt someone to make the pain, and its source, stop. It didn’t explain my discomfort with physical acts of affection. It didn’t explain my lack of social energy, which kept me at home most of the time (and sometimes even looked like I didn’t care). It didn’t explain my scripts and echophenomena. It didn’t explain my hyperempathy that left me in tears whenever anything bad happened to anyone. It didn’t explain why I was so emotionally fragile and impressionable, not only remembering the horrible things that were said to me (even if someone else might have thought these things were benign), but internalized it all into adulthood.

“Unique” was a start, but it didn’t quite answer anything. Not in the way Autism did.

I found out when I was 12. People who know me know that this was the worst time of life, as I had struggles both at home and at school. All I will say, to keep from tangents, is that my hyperempathy made me hurt the way my cousin (younger sister of the photographed little girl’s mother) did, and terribly. And it didn’t help that I had absolutely no friends at school. The friends I had were all fed up with my odd---and I guess disgusting---habits, and so distanced themselves from me. Everyone else found reasons to belittle me. Some acted like accidentally touching me had infected them with some terrible disease.

I knew there was something “wrong” with me.

My parents took my brother and me to a group program called Progressive Resources (which I had suspected, and now confirmed, is affiliated with Autism $peaks). I just knew it as “Group,” the place where we went to play and “learn social skills” while our parents talked about how much they hated us. (That was the way I described it, anyway, at a time when I had become numb to the thought of my parents’ disappointment in me.)

Because of all the toys we could play with, I thought it was fun, so I brought my hurting cousin with me one day. She didn’t like the structure of it, and commented on how infantilizing and demanding it was. That’s when I started to put two and two together; me being treated like a kid here, surrounded by “R*tards” (nonverbal people, people with special interests that are associated with very young children’s entertainment, people with audibly disabled voices) had something to do with my bad treatment at school. They hated me because I had been lumped up with these people.

So I lashed out. At my parents, my aunts and uncles...

Eventually, it got to the point where I said terrible, horrendous things about one of the clients at Progressive Resources (things I can’t repeat). My mother had been struggling to figure out what to do about my sudden burst of rebellion, but that was when I guess everything stopped for her. She was just about to get into the car when she heard the ugly things I said about the other client. She gave me one of the most serious looks I had ever seen on her and said,

“You’re autistic, little girl.”

My thought process stopped dead in its tracks. Having internalized ableism over so many years with horrible media depictions, “Awareness Campaigns,” and hearing the ugly things said about neurodivergents, I took this as an insult. Autism for me was an insult. So I protested, to which she provided my story.

“You didn’t talk until you were 5. You wouldn’t interact with anyone. We took you to a doctor---”

My attention span cut off from there. As much as I had internalized the world’s ableism, as much as I hated the concept of autism, it began to explain so much. It answered all the questions that “Unique” couldn’t. And yet, even with this realization, I can’t say I was happy about it. It was just a word to describe why I was chastised.

I hid in the attic for the rest of the day and marinated in my thoughts. I had to process every event that had taken place in my life. To this day, I can struggle from time to time to accept myself as I am. But from that day forth, I made the conscious decision to work with people just like me, other autistics. The following day, I made amends with the people I had before been antisocial with at PR, and was surprised at their forgiveness and eagerness to interact with me.

Though I was slowly beginning to crack under the weight of depression (from a lifetime of peer abuse, burden rhetorics, and my hyperempathy making me aware of all the wrongs in the world---with my hurting cousin as the window), I was even beginning to make friends. The initial shock melted into a deeper understanding of myself, and some very basic needs. There would be future struggles I wouldn’t take into consideration or realize until the present time, but I was starting to feel just a little bit better about who I was.

At the end of the story, I don’t want the idea that my parents were horrible Autism Parents to be taken. Yes, my parents had made some mistakes, and they let their misconceptions lead them into nasty territories with me. They just didn’t know what they were doing, and they had no means to correct themselves. Yes, a lot of their decisions have some lifelong consequences on me, but after I’ve worked so hard to make myself heard to them, they’ve finally opened their hearts. And while there’s still a lot that they don’t understand, they do understand that I am neurodivergent and mentally ill, and I need their support. They may not get it, but they do everything they can to support me, even going against past beliefs they had about me and the world.

But I realize that not everyone has this kind of support. There are people out there who can’t afford to can’t afford to get an official diagnosis, whether it be money for insurance, or the security of employment or within a household. To everyone who believes they may be autistic, but do not have it on an official medical document, I believe you too. And I love you. You are good and valid, and I hope for nothing but the best for you, even if it turns out you’re not autistic.  ♡

Mickey 💕 You❣

[asleepinawell]

Can you finish your thoughts on Shaw/Root/TM from the tags on that gifset? Please???? :)

y’all should know better than to encourage me to ramble about things. i have zero concept of being brief or concise. so here you go.

This is an expansion of some meta i wrote in some tags about Root’s character development as pertaining to her relationship with the Machine and Shaw. So I don’t have to repeat it every other sentence, a lot of this is headcanon…as in my opinions…you’re completely allowed to disagree and have your own headcanon, that’s the beauty of fandom:

As a kid, Root was already a smug little computer whiz before Hanna got killed, if not already a hacker then definitely heading down that path. Root’s always been arrogant and I imagine she thought she was too good for the horrible little town she was stuck in. On top of that there was whatever situation was going on with her mother…that’s open to interpretation of course, but it was said that she hung out in the library to avoid going home. Hanna and computers were the best things Root had going on in her life. Computers were easier to understand and deal with than humans and let her enact a measure of control over something in a world where she felt trapped and not in control. Especially after Hanna died.

I think root already liked bending and breaking the rules, feeling superior to people who didn’t, but when all the rules of the ‘civilized’ world failed her the night Hanna was taken she realized that rules only applied to you if you let them. Rules weren’t real. They were part of humans’ bad code and a thing to be exploited. Computers, of course, do have rules and logic that they can’t disobey. If a computer isn’t doing what it’s supposed to do than somewhere along the line a human messed up…either wrote bad code or made bad hardware, etc. The universe and humans and emotions are a giant chaotic mess without rhyme or reason, but computers are perfect, logical.

The thing about Root though is she very much is human and has so many of the traits she sees as flaws…I think that’s part of the reason for her wildly shifting self-value. She has an enormous emotional capacity that she’s struggled to keep in check and funneled only into anger for most of her life, so when her emotions do come out it’s like opening a floodgate. But before the Machine and Shaw she compartmentalized all of that, locked it away, didn’t allow herself to feel anything she considered weak. She cared about Hanna and then she lost her and that hurt horribly. Therefore, in Root logic, if she doesn’t care about people, she can’t get hurt. One of the reasons her emotions and mannerisms often come off as over the top and child-like is because she never allowed herself to learn to regulate them.

Then the Machine enters the picture. One of the many things Root’s been locking away is loneliness. I think from later seasons it’s fairly apparent that she’s a deeply lonely person even if she spent most of her life writing that off as a weakness. But if humans are bad code and weak than she can never really allow herself to care about them or let them in. But the Machine isn’t human. She sees the Machine not only as an inherently more worthy form of life, but as someone she can finally allow herself to care for.

Root’s face lights up whenever the Machine talks to her and that’s definitely partly her deification of her, but it’s also because she loves her, as a god and the friend she always wanted. When she doesn’t find TM at the end of God Mode it completely breaks her and she shuts down and goes away inside her head because she’s lost something again and it hurts horribly and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. And when the Machine chooses to talk to her it’s everything she’d always hoped for.

But the Machine isn’t exactly what she’d imagined. TM won’t let her kill and sets her up to help save humanity. Root starts out being somewhat amused but indulgent of the no kill rule (’even this guy?’), and probably doesn’t mind the saving humanity bit since she sees it as the Machine helping to make humanity better and also gives her a feeling of importance…because TM values her enough to ask her to do this.

Around this time, Shaw becomes another factor in Root’s life. I don’t see Root as having had any real meaningful relationships in her life, and I don’t think she immediately falls head over heels for Shaw…instant chemistry, yes..instant love, no. I do think TM sees potential there though either before or during Mors Praematura. At that point Root cares about what the Machine thinks/wants and won’t kill people because she cares about TM’s wishes, but she still doesn’t care about people. Perhaps TM saw Shaw as a person Root could care about. Also, even though this is a meta post about Root I’d like to say that TM probably also thought Root would be good for Shaw…it was never just about one or the other of them; it was always about both of them together.

Fast forward to Aletheia. Shaw goes back to look for Root. I’ve probably mentioned this in a ton of other posts but I strongly believe that was the first time someone had done something like that for her (the end of mors praematura doesn’t exactly count). It was an indication that a human cared for her and for once she doesn’t see that as a negative or a thing to be exploited.

That brings us to the episode I wrote the original meta tags about…Root Path. The whole episode is TM smacking her in the head to try and explain that her actions have cascading consequences and end up hurting multiple people. This isn’t something Root has generally thought about or given a shit about before, but TM is telling her and she loves TM and doesn’t want to disappoint her. Her whole ‘how badly did you have to break it’ speech is about her not understanding how a being that was supposed to be above human weaknesses is telling her that humans are important. And while TM can drill this into her head over and over it doesn’t click until she realizes she’s fallen for Shaw. I think that the end of root path is when she starts accepting that.

Root needed both of TM and Shaw to get where she ended up. I don’t think she ever genuinely likes people, and she continues to treat most people in a condescending fashion, but she can’t make the sweeping generalization that humans == bad code now because Shaw isn’t bad code so that statement is no longer always true. And that opens up a lot of possibilities. TM got Root to a point where she could admit to care for another human and Shaw was the human she could care for and who cared for her. All three of them are very much tied up on each other’s character arcs which is one of the reasons I thought it was such a shame we never got to see Shaw and TM interact over the course of the story.

One last comment…I’ve seen discussions of whether Shaw or TM is more important to Root and I personally don’t find this a useful question to ask. Both of them are so damn integral to her life that she’s devastated at the idea of losing either. They are both immeasurably important to her and being forced to put a value on one over the other would be deeply upsetting for her and ultimately pointless. It is possible to have more than one thing that you care for without it lessening the importance of either.

Hope that was what you were after, anon!

[melibee44]

Mmm... floor weed

Mama worked hard to push me through the halls of the sprawling U of A hospital, through the Mazankowski Institute, and over the pedway. I was able to walk myself through the parkade and to the car, where I was very happy to be sitting again.

We stopped at my pharmacy on the way to my parents’ place to fill my tramadol prescription. It might not have been the most convenient, but there weren’t too many open after 10:30 PM, so choices were limited. We had to swing by my place anyway for the huz to load my things in the car for my stay.

I mentioned to the pharmacist that I was nervous because it didn’t feel like the tramadol at the hospital helped at all and they were very clear that I wasn’t getting anything else. They said I could have that and ibuprofen and that’s all. She commented that that seemed bizarre and told me that if it didn’t work by the morning to call the hospital and tell them that I NEED something else. She said to make it clear that it’s not working and insist. She looked concerned. I very much appreciate her concern now.

We went home and I was hurting, but I thought it was normal because I wasn’t screaming or paralyzed with fear or hyperventilating or passing out. I wasn’t even too nauseated from the pain... because I had taken anti nausea meds, but I wouldn’t remember that for a while.

I was still groggy enough to get bits of sleep. A couple of times, I slept through my med alarm, but usually still had a cushion due to the alternating of meds. The one time I slept through two alarms, I woke up in quite a bit of pain, but thank goodness the nerve block still had a teeny bit of effect.

I opened my eyes, felt what I would describe as searing pain and then thought to myself “Don’t panic; it’s nothing you can’t handle. You just need to get to some more drugs. Don’t even need to wake someone up! You can do this.”

I took the meds I had on the side table (was sleeping in my dad’s recliner for the night so I’d be close to help and my head and neck would be elevated) then managed to hoist myself out of the chair, go to the kitchen, find my cannabis oil that I bought just in case (thank fucking goodness!!!) and then proceeded to try and open it. That was the hardest part. But I did it! I got it open then attempted to use the dropper/syringe to get some out.

That was the very sad moment that I knocked it off the counter and onto the floor. Panic. The weed. I fucking dropped the weed.

Whelp, can’t let good weed go to waste! I wasn’t supposed to bend, so I got to my knees and then I think my butt and then was like... well... I’m down here. Can’t let good weed go to waste. I’d forgotten the dropper up above, so I tried to scoop up spilled cannabis oil with my finger and then lick it off. I’ve decided that the five-second-rule is extended when you’re recovering from surgery. The patient gets to decide how long.

I managed to recover a bit of the cannabis oil that way, then bum scooted over to the cupboard and got some things to clean up the rest so the cat (who was very interested) wouldn’t be licking up residue. I don’t even remember how I got up; I just remember that it hurt. In hindsight... I probably should have asked for help. Maybe when I was in the recliner and next to my phone would have been a good time. Hindsight amiright?

I got a bit more cannabis oil from what hadn’t spilled and then put it all away before heading back to bed in the recliner. I was in tons of pain, but I had been told that was to be expected, so I was tidying in the wee hours of the morning with a slit neck and while gasping with pain. Pure logic and clear thinking right there.

I settled back into the recliner and got a bit more sleep, then the next thing I knew, my parents were up and asking how I was. I took drugs and drifted off again. I was in and out throughout the early morning, but once I was a little more with-it, someone offered me coffee (YASSSSSSS!!!) and I started checking in with myself.

How am I really feeling this morning? What do I feel? Did any of the drugs work at all? How would I characterize my pain? I was trying to figure it all out and be as accurate as possible.

I announced I was going to call the hospital, as instructed by the pharmacist, since the tramadol wasn’t working. We figured out which number to call and I did just that.

I explained my issue as quickly and succinctly as possible to the nurse on the phone (way more succinct than this) and she informed me that I wasn’t their patient anymore and they couldn’t help me. She told me I should try my surgeon or my family doc. So I figured I should talk to my surgeon’s office anyway and called them next.

I love my surgeon’s assistant. She’s super nice and clearly works hard, so I was thrilled when she picked up (they don’t always have the capacity to answer the phones) and I told her my issue with as much clarity and brevity as possible.

As much as one can tell over the phone, she seemed surprised I was released the night before. She was even more shocked that I’d been told I could take Ibuprofen since the surgeon’s instructions were clear (I never got them) there was to be absolutely no nsaids after surgery. They are a blood thinner. I said “ohhhhh so that’s why I leaked through my steri-strips last night.

She was kind and calm. She said she understood it was painful and informed me that the nodule was really big (duh) and that it’s normal and okay that I’m experiencing more pain. But again she made it clear that tramadol was the only prescription I would be getting. I heard some variation on that phrase again - this is all we give for these surgeries; you’re not getting anything else. I reiterated that it wasn’t working and she told me that if I really needed something else, I could try adding some extra strength Tylenol. Tylenol.

The only times I’ve ever had Tylenol help me in my life is when I’ve had a fever. And after I nearly gave my family doc a heart attack after going for my checkup blood tests mid-cold one year (loads of acetaminophen in cold medicine), I now know that it does horrible things to my liver. Lesson learned there. Go easy on the Tylenol and don’t take it if it doesn’t work. It didn’t.

She was checking in with my surgeon for me though. She even tried to get him out of surgery (they appear to have been having a surgery marathon of some sort). I honestly don’t know if she was ever successful. The pain was getting worse and things weren’t feeling right. But I was super tired, so was sleeping on and off for the remainder of the afternoon.

Don’t stop now:

[unalomero]

Let's g0 g0 gadget

This belt was not equipt with the tools neccessary to let Sarah know I need time as a single lady.

Funny because the feeling I had when she kissed me was v similar to the time when I was getting over Cait and held hands with Kat that one night at the party. I cried myself to sleep that night because I felt myself losing my feelings i thought were forever.

Except ya girl isnt crying over that! Ya girl is focused on the positive and focusing on the now! Ya girl has herself surrounded and reminded by people on the daily on the love she got!

Because if I don't, uff there sure is a lot bad to focus on, but bay blade wont let that RIP on this dance floor tonight or any nights upcoming.

Talked with Cait again today too. She will always be my #1 rock and soulmate. Our mateship is friendship, but the kind I know lasts. Which is nice to be able to recognize! I am blessed to have had truly amazing friendships and the capacity to have great connections. I prefer cait and I as friends that we are now. We talk way too much on raising kids together though, which she would be such a great parent partner! She and I click so well and we both are always commenting how we need someone like each other, just not one another l0l which I agree 10000 % She always makes me feel safe and unjudged. She may not be the smartest when it comes to relative truths, but she is so well habile in the absolute truths. Seeing her grow has been such a pleasure too. We both thank one another almost every time of everything we have been through and of the things we have learned along the way and how we help one another.

Felt good to also cry a bit today to Cait. I needed to release what happened a month ago. I was getting p upset and felt how I initially wanted to place blame on Kat oddly... my poor brain has been v inclined to thinking negativly of her, but that's brain trying to teach itself to not play with fire anymore.

So sex bots. You know that big fear that kept me up for about a week at school and a week before leaving to MN? Well I got to meet my fear! I knew I deserved to fight and fought harder this time. What, Another??? family!!! friend!!! decided??? to assume that all a young female's body is for is takin and fuckin it?!?!?!

Do I have a sign tied on my back that says "Hey she doesnt deserve to be respected and treated kindly"? Cause jee, seems like that's a lot of what my life has consisted of. But dont get me wrong, more of my life has been spent being taken care of, dont fixate gurlll. ... But alas, what hasnt killed me has made me stronger and each of the bad makes me treasure the good. If that makes me seem "too happy" for you fucks, then try getting almost raped 3 times, not to count the 2 successful attempts, having to witness and break up parental domestic violence, 2 stalkers, an alcoholic and suicidal brother, not to mention also an occasional suicidal mother, losing a friend, being mugged 2 times, and losing family and friends to drugs, suicide, and gun violence. So yeah, I may be a little eccentric for you boring bots out there, but to me I'm happy I'm alive and the people around me are too. Yikes does it feel weird to type that out... Haha and the most painful of it all wasnt even when the worst of the worst was happening (except when mom was in the hospital for 4 days from what my dad did to her. That, that was as worse as the fear gets). WhT was worse was how consumed I let my everyday thinking get clouded by the drama and the pain.

When someone compliments my intelligence. Thank you. I didnt have parents that were always around or the best role models to help me learn. I mainly taught myself a lot to keep me distracted and keep me somewhere else. Which, when I think about it, a lot of the factoids I carried around like prized pieces went away a year ago around now. I let go of what kept me in an anxious check all the time. Relative truths are just but relative. They require an attachment to the material world, an unhealthy one a lot of the times. We get so convinced of a view and we let it change us and the relationships around it. All for the sake of what? Some hierarchy that has again found itself where it need not be.

No wonder I have problems with physical intimacy? No wonder Matty does too. So crazy how such similar trauma has created in my mind and experience, such similar minded people. I feel like I just get her thinking space a lot.

So another experience of having someone force themselves on you.

"Well Ashley you should have known"

Mother trucking sex bots, should I have??? Someone who helped raise me and was there for me as a baby? NO gosh darn it. But apparently things change when you have tits. I hate them sometimes. I hate my body.

When people say "you're just so beautiful" to my naked corpse, I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. It's not because I dont see beauty, but those words almost always followed abuse. Why cant I be told that when I'm in sweats and my favorite hoody, rocking a hella fun laugh and smile? Because that, that's when I feel beautiful.

So Deno,

I forgive you. I dont understand your actions, but I'm glad at least you ended up listening to me and wasnt as horrible as some men have treated me. I had courage this time to step up and not back down. What you tried to do and what you got away with is beyond what any apology would allot you. You could have further sent me into my distrust in men, but I wont give you anymore power than my other abusers have.

I am still getting over what happened before and I am still wrapping my mind around how so many good people keep coming after my ass. Ann said it best, "you're short and cute -a seemingly easy threat."

Well mother trucker, best be a scooting because I'm proud that I was able to stand up taller and not let this past indiscretion pull me down. It happened and well life can be shit sometimes. But guess what life is also amazing.

I have amazing friends and family who support me so much. I could be hella depressed and probably would be hadn't it been for working extremely hard on being mindful and present in the moment.

What I try not to think about are the words he said to me and how easily he could have not been so kind to let me go. I've had that. That's the kind of fear that

[bulbwalrus6-blog]

The Bear’s Den, March 9, 2018

BEAR DOWN, CHICAGO BEARS, BEAR DOWN!!!!

BEARRRSSSS

Gabriel: Bears Should Steer Clear Of Le’Veon Bell - 670 The Score - The salary that Le’Veon Bell is seeking in free agency would constrain the Bears in other important areas.

Emma: Bears Have Need To Fill At Tight End - 670 The Score - The Bears are seeking more reliability and playmaking at tight end given all of Adam Shaheen’s injuries.

5@5: Should The Bears Trade Jordan Howard? - 670 The Score - The Mully & Haugh crew debated whether the Bears should trade running back Jordan Howard and more.

Perez: 4 running backs the Bears could pursue if they trade Jordan Howard - Bears Wire - A look at four free-agent running backs the Chicago Bears could pursue if they decide to trade Jordan Howard

Medina: Jordan Howard Is Inarguably Talented, But Is He the Right Fit? - Bleacher Nation - He’s talented, but does he fit.

Medina: Are the Bears Really in Play for Adrian Peterson? Should They Be? - Bleacher Nation - Adrian Peterson on the Bears? That doesn’t seem like an ideal fit. Ken’s Note: He’s a HORRIBLE fit, he’s old, he is a bad receiver and he can’t block.

Podcast: The Great Jim Miller [AUDIO] - Da Bears Blog - Bill speaks with Jim Miller on:

NFL Mock Draft: Aaron Leming’s Post-Scouting Combine edition - 247Sports - Bear Report insider Aaron Leming drops his first mock draft for 2019 and has the Bears addressing several needs on offense and defense.

Eurich: Mike Singletary applauds Matt Nagy’s first season as Bears coach - 247Sports - Mike Singletary was likely hoping to have similar success in his first year as a head coach in the AAF as Matt Nagy had with the Chicago Bears in 2018.

2019 NFL free agency glossary: All the terms you need to know - NFL.com - We’re about to head into the free agency frenzy -- a hectic period on the NFL calendar that has a language all its own. Fortunately, Anthony Holzman-Escareno is here for you with a glossary explaining all the terms you need to know.

Finley: Ex-Vikings head coach Brad Childress expected to return to Bears - Sun Times - Former Vikings head coach Brad Childress is expected to return to the Bears in a similar capacity to which he served last year.

Stankevitz: From Landon Collins to Stephen Gostkowski, do the Bears have a realistic shot of signing the biggest names in free agency? | NBC Sports Chicago - The Bears don’t have much cap space. But will that prevent Ryan Pace from signing a big-name free agent like Landon Collins?

Perez: Should the Bears consider signing Carlos Hyde? - Bears Wire - Should the Chicago Bears pursue former Jaguars RB Carlos Hyde?

POLISH SAUSAGE

Chiefs propose major changes to overtime – ProFootballTalk - Last week, Kansas City G.M. Brett Veach hinted that the Chiefs would be proposing a significant change to the overtime rules, one that would have given the Chiefs an opportunity to possess the ball after New England scored a touchdown on the first drive of overtime in the AFC Championship.

Report: Martellus Bennett may join Patriots to play with his brother – ProFootballTalk - A year ago, Martellus Bennett was released by the Patriots, and he announced his retirement a couple weeks later. Now he may be ready to come back. Shortly after news broke that the Patriots are working on a trade for Michael Bennett, Adam Schefter of ESPN reported that his brother Martellus Benn...

KNOW THY ENEMY

The Vikings’ Kirk Cousins decision, a year later - Daily Norseman - With free agency about to get underway, a look back at the $84 million decision

Vikings Off Season Plan - Pre Free Agency - Daily Norseman - Well, the free agency negotiating window starts in 3 days and the Vikings only have $5,340,897 in cap space. I guess they are waiting until the last minute to release or restructure players. It...

What does a perfect 2019 Packers offseason look like? - Acme Packing Company - In a pivotal year for the Packers front office, these moves would help the Packers maximize improvement while preserving their long-term outlook. Ken's Note: Great choice of pictures.

Vikings facing a cap crunch – ProFootballTalk - The Vikings splurged last year. This year, they'll likely be purging. Chris Tomasson of the St. Paul Pioneer Press has taken a close look at the Vikings' current cap crunch. They currently have $4.94 million in 2019 cap space.

T.J. Lang’s farewell message to Detroit Lions fans: ‘Stay with them’ - Pride Of Detroit - Lang is a classy, classy man.

Detroit Lions release T.J. Lang - Pride Of Detroit - The move will save nearly $9 million in cap space.

2019 NFL head coach rankings: Lions’ Matt Patricia ranked 3rd-worst among returning coaches - Pride Of Detroit - There’s not a lot of national confidence in Matt Patricia after a rough debut.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT ON WINDY CITY GRIDIRON

Wiltfong's NFL Free Agency 2019: Experts predict Adrian Amos leaving Chicago Bears - Windy City Gridiron - We take a look at the predictions from a couple publications about Bears’ free agents Adrian Amos and Bryce Callahan.

WCG CONTRIBUTORS BEARS PODCASTS & STREAMS

2 Minute Drill - Website - iTunes - Andrew Link; Steven’s Streaming – Twitch – Steven Schweickert; T-Formation Conversation - Website - iTunes - Lester Wiltfong, Jr.; WCG Radio - Website - iTunes - Robert Zeglinski

THE RULES

Windy City Gridiron Community Guidelines - SBNation.com - We strive to make our communities open and inclusive to sports fans of all backgrounds. The following is not permitted in comments. No personal attacks, politics, gender based insults of any kind, racial insults, etc.

The Bear’s Den Specific Guidelines – The Bear’s Den is a place for Chicago Bears fans to discuss Chicago Bears football, related NFL stories, and general football talk. It is NOT a place to discuss religion or politics or post political pictures or memes. Unless otherwise stated, the Den is not an open thread, and profanity (including profanity only stated in pictures) is prohibited.

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WCG Contributors: Jeff Berckes; Patti Curl; Eric Christopher Duerrwaechter; Kev H; Sam Householder; Jacob Infante; Aaron Lemming; Ken Mitchell; Steven Schweickert; Jack Silverstein; EJ Snyder; Lester Wiltfong, Jr.; Whiskey Ranger; Robert Schmitz; Robert Zeglinski; Like us on Facebook.

Source: https://www.windycitygridiron.com/2019/3/9/18257140/chicago-bears-free-agency-draft-mocks-offseason-rumors-howard-pace-nagy-childress-hicks-pagano-mack