#as someone who has never watched food wars but has heard a lot about it i imagine hes like that with food

[sossolei]

things I learned after shifting to Hogwarts ‧₊ ᵎᵎ⋅ ˚ △⃒⃘

SIDENOTE: hogwarts was not the first reality I shifted to ! this is a uni reality ! there is no war ! ask any questions you want !

.☘︎ ݁˖ BATHROOM. I’ve genuinely never seen anyone talk about this but ( at least in my reality ) there’s a bathroom on the Hogwarts Express and holy fuck??? On the outside it looks tiny asf but I went in there to change into my robes and it’s wayyy bigger than it looks on the outside. It works like the tents in Goblet of Fire basically. The toilets and everything look relatively new so I’m assuming they change it every couple years just to keep in good condition.

.☘︎ ݁˖ MUGGLES. Have you ever wondered exactly how the muggles don’t notice wizardry, or at least at the platform? In my personal experience, unless it’s magic very intentionally and obviously done in front of muggles, there will usually be a moment distraction where they don’t see the magic happening. In the sense of platform nine and three quarters, there’s usually a couple trains that arrive around the same time and blare the horn so everyone usually gets distracted by that. But a personal example of this happens when I was standing in front of the barrier getting ready to cross through the wall, a young child was watching me from afar and as soon as started walking forward, he tripped over the wheel of his mothers luggage and didn’t see me go through the wall.

.☘︎ ݁˖ THE GREAT HALL. The candles are never ending. They don’t drip. They don’t melt in any way. I just had to say that cause I legit stared at them for almost an hour trying to see if it would melt. You have to talk pretty loud to be heard at the front where Dumbledore usually gives his lil speeches, which means the students who sing have lungs for DAYSSSS it’s actually so impressive. The benches are uncomfortable, not unbearable but not recommended for sitting for a long time lol. There’s no menu or anything, the food rlly does just appear there but there’s always something for everybody. Some people even walk up and down the table looking for what they want.

.☘︎ ݁˖ OTHER SCHOOLS. I didn’t stay in this reality for very long but I was always asking questions ( sorry mcgonnagall ). Ilvermorny is currently trying to admit more Native American wizards into their school but Native American wizards (as far as I know) have their own kind of magic and legit do not want anything to do with Ilvermorny. Kind of similar issue in Australia and Aboriginals I’m pretty sure. There’s a lot of, like a fuck ton of wizarding schools in Africa. I know JK Rowling has like one wizarding school in Africa but geographically speaking, that never made sense to begin with and I wasn’t surprised when I found out there were different/smaller wizarding schools around Africa.

.☘︎ ݁˖ STUDENTS. I don’t know how many students are in Hogwarts but I do know that it’s never a surprise who comes to Hogwarts. The ministry genuinely keeps track of every single wizard who has children, and even hold records of wizards who have families without wizarding abilities, just in case someone pops out with it. Easiest way to think of it is that families like Ron’s are always kept track of as well as Hermione’s, so it’s never usually a surprise when someone turns up muggleborn cause they’re usually expecting it.

.☘︎ ݁˖ PROFESSORS. The professors are not as silly goofy as they are in the movies guy :( They’re not miserable or anything but they all just remind me of the standing emoji LMAOOO. But seriously, someone like Mcgonnagall is not as welcoming or “chill” as she is in the movies or towards Harry. But some definitely are more chill, especially the younger ones. Slughorn is my silly king but even he has his moments.

Since this is a uni, Snape isn’t as uh…violent (?) as he is in the movies. Neville is a grown ass man, Snape is def not his biggest fear but Neville in general has a strong urge to prove himself and it reflects in his relationship with Snape. Snape isn’t scary, he just demands lots of respect and has respect for people that have proven they are “worthy” of it, i.e., high marks, put together, confidence, strong willed, etc.

.☘︎ ݁˖ DIVINATION. Did you guys know that being a witch/wizard doesn’t automatically make you good at all forms of divination? I scripted Mattheo Riddle into this reality and me and him are soooo good at other forms of divination like tarot, coffee grounds, and even the the crystal ball, but Theodore Nott fucking sucksss at it. Hermione also didn’t do as well in the class as I know she could’ve done, but according to Treylawney, all forms of divination require open mindedness towards something you can’t understand. Someone like hermione, for example, wants to know everything all the time and doesn’t beat around the bush, so tarot isn’t her cup of tea because she doesn’t think it’s giving her exactly what she wants.

.☘︎ ݁˖ HOMEWORK. Homework can either be really fun or really time consuming. It’s just like regular homework where you recall everything you learned in class but homework isn’t very common the more you move up in classes, mainly because the magic you start to do becomes more hands on rather than memorizing. This doesn’t apply to Snape though. He loves homework.

.☘︎ ݁˖ UNIFORMS. THE ROBES ARE INSULATED. It’s very thick, good quality fabric and keeps you real warm during the winter but during the later hot months like September, it’s not uncommon to walk around with the robes open or in your hands, but you have to wear them in your body during class, no exceptions. They absorb stains??? This is one I wasn’t expecting but it’s a magical robe so…okay! I dropped cranberry juice on the sleeve and it just completely absorbed and it didn’t stink or anything. This doesn’t apply to the tie or anything else, those have to washed for sure.

.☘︎ ݁˖ REALITY. If you haven’t shifted yet, you’ll often hear people say “it’ll feel natural because you’ve already lived there your whole life” and while that is true, it’s also not because how am I supposed to be natural walking past Robert fucking Pattinson to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts???? In my mind, he’s always been Edward from Twilight and seeing him in the hogwarts robes just made me stop in my tracks and stare. Some things come natural and some things don’t but I embrace everything with open arms.

.☘︎ ݁˖ EXTRA. Draco is blonde as hell! Like Targaryen level blonde. I do think it’s natural tho cause Luna has the same platinum type of blonde going on. Harry’s scar is soooo much cooler in this reality, it’s thin but branches out on the side of his face and it’s much more noticeable than the one in the movie. Hermione has curly curly hair! I don’t know if she straightens it in the books but I know she does in the movie, in this reality she literally just got a better curl routine. She has a ton of products and really cares for her hair and she’s lowkey embarrassed cause it’s the one thing she considers “vain.”

There’s a “club” of sorts where a bunch of students get together and run around the castle at the crack ass of Dawn for exercise ( best believe they have NEVER seen the likes of me ). I was told there are wizards who are famous in muggle spaces, typically for music or art. The painting will warn people when the stairs are about to move lol. That whole house discrimination stuff doesn’t happen as often as it does in the movies/books, most people don’t actually care and Slytherins get along with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs well—however, Gryffindor does have the tendency to poke fun and Slytherins respond with dry sarcasm so sometimes it’s not a perfect fit! House discrimination was bigger in our parents age but as the years have gone by, the current gen doesn’t care fr.

That’s all I can think of atm, thank you for reading and yes I will be doing this with other places I’ve shifted to!

[orellazalonia]

Mischief Managed

Summary: With the power to talk to animals, your feline companion, Mischief, hates everyone at the tower except you. Therefore, when you start getting closer to Bucky, you watch as she slowly starts to trust the super soldier. However, with all things, it doesn’t go well at first. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: Reader has the power to talk to animals.

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Whispers of the Gifted Masterlist | Sequel | Finale

You never expected your strange bond with animals to shape your life so completely. From the time you were little, the voices of birds, dogs, squirrels, even ants, were a constant hum in your mind. You couldn’t explain how or why, but you understood them, and they understood you. You didn’t just hear noises or read body language. You heard words. Emotions. Stories. And most importantly, you could talk back.

At first, it was a secret. A party trick for only the most trusted friends, who usually assumed you were joking. But now, it’s just part of you. You’ve learned to filter out the constant chatter.

You’ve learned to help animals when they’re in trouble and, occasionally, when SHIELD needs it, use them for information. Sometimes, rats knew more about hidden Hydra facilities than satellites ever could.

But for all your strange gifts, you lived a relatively quiet life in the Avengers Tower. Most of the others accepted your ability with curiosity or amusement. Tony had tried to run tests on your brain, and Clint still jokingly called you “Dr. Dolittle.” You didn’t mind. Your companions whether they be feathered, furred, or scaled had always had your back. And one in particular? She guarded you like a dragon guards treasure.

Her name was Mischief. A sleek, coal-black cat with amber eyes and a resting glare that could curdle milk. You’d found her three years ago, injured and starving in an alley, snarling at rats and pigeons for scraps. She hadn’t trusted you at first, but the moment you spoke to her, really spoke, her entire posture changed. It took a few trips bringing food to her, taking things slow. And slowly, you began to realize you hadn’t just earned her trust, you’d earned her devotion.

Since then, she rarely left your side. Mischief judged everyone you interacted with, and she never hid her opinions. She Tolerated Steve. Hated Tony’s cologne. And she absolutely loathed anyone who flirted with you.

That became a problem the day Bucky Barnes moved into the Tower.

He was quiet, scarred, and carried the weight of too many ghosts behind stormy blue eyes. He barely spoke to anyone, kept to himself, and moved like someone always waiting to be attacked. You saw it the first day in how he looked at everyone sideways, how he didn’t sit with his back to a door, how he flinched when someone approached too fast.

And Mischief? She was watching him like he’d brought a knife to your front door.

She sat on the windowsill in your room, tail twitching, eyes narrowed like tiny slits of fire. He’s hiding something, Her voice was flat, echoing in your mind like dry leaves scraping across pavement. He smells like ghosts. Like regret mixed with metal and blood. I don’t like him.

You sighed, brushing a hand over her silky back. “He’s been through a lot. Be nice.”

Nice? You want nice? Find a golden retriever. I’m watching him.

You didn’t know it then, but Mischief’s “watching” would escalate. She wasn’t just wary of Bucky Barnes. She was preparing for war. And you? You were caught in the middle of a cold war between an ex-assassin with a tragic past… and your jealous cat.

It started small at first.

Bucky would pass you in the hallway, nod a quiet hello, and Mischief would hiss from your shoulder like a kettle set to boil.

You tried to explain it away as best as you could. "She’s just like that at first," You said once when Bucky raised a brow at the low growl coming from your tote bag. Mischief liked to crawl inside and travel with you unnoticed. “She doesn’t warm up easily.”

He gave a short, humorless chuckle. “Neither do I.”

You weren’t sure what drew you toward him. Maybe it was the way he always seemed almost comfortable in silence, the way he sat on the common room couch like it didn’t quite belong to him, or how he listened to conversations without ever trying to steer them. Maybe it was how he never asked you questions unless he thought the answer would matter. He was calm. Still. A rare kind of quiet you’d only ever felt around animals.

But Mischief noticed.

One night, you caught her sitting in the kitchen sink like a gargoyle, glaring at the hallway. When you asked what she was doing, she said, Waiting for the metal-armed brooder. If he comes in here again, I’ll gut the loaf of bread he likes.

Sure enough, Bucky wandered in a minute later, offered you a soft smile, and went for the exact loaf.

The next morning, it was shredded. You sighed at the sight as you went out to get a replacement.

Still, you didn’t stop spending time with him.

You started joining him in the gym after hours. The excuse given was wanting to stretch, but really, you just liked the way he relaxed when no one else was around. Sometimes you brought a dog or two in from the compound’s training fields, let them rest while you and Bucky talked. Or didn’t talk. You didn’t need to.

“I think animals like you,” You told him one evening, watching a scruffy mutt rest his head on Bucky’s knee.

He blinked down at the dog like it had just spoken fluent Russian. “That’s a first.”

He’s got soft hands, The dog murmured. I like him.

You smiled to yourself. “I think they know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’ve got a good heart.”

He looked away quickly, jaw tight. You didn’t say anything more, letting it go.

Later that night, Mischief perched on your chest like a stone weight and narrowed her eyes. You’re getting attached.

“I’m not.”

You are.

“You scratched a loaf of bread.”

It deserved it.

You sighed, having not expected that response, but then again, it was typical of her. Mischief wasn’t one to be easily appeased, and her possessiveness was notorious. But this time, she didn’t go on about it. Instead, she flicked her tail, an uncomfortable tension hanging in the air. Her voice softened, almost like a reluctant admission. You’re… different with him.

“Different?” You tilted your head, trying to understand her point.

You relax around him. You listen more. I don’t like it.

It struck a chord in you. You weren’t blind to the shift in your own behavior. With Bucky, things felt easier. Calmer. He had this way of being present and patient in a way that drew you in, as if there was a shared understanding of pain that made silences less heavy. Sure, there were times where the past still haunted him. But his company was always one you found yourself subconsciously seeking.

He didn’t demand things from you. He didn’t ask for anything you weren’t ready to give. And when you were with him, the world felt… simpler.

But Mischief’s words stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m not going to stop seeing him just because you don’t like it,” You murmured, feeling the weight of her gaze.

I know you won’t, She responded in a quieter tone now. But if he hurts you, I’ll bite his face off.

You chuckled softly at the absurdity of the threat. “I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who would hurt anyone… but thanks for the warning.”

Mischief gave a long, almost disappointed sigh, as if she realized there was nothing she could do to change your mind. You’ve always been good at ignoring my advice. I’ll be here, though. Watching.

And just like that, she padded off your chest and curled up on the windowsill, turning her back to you in a huff.

You didn’t feel the usual pang of guilt for not heeding her advice. Instead, you lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Bucky’s quiet demeanor, his unspoken trust, and how, somehow, he made you feel less like an outsider.

But the cat was right about one thing: you were getting attached. And that was something even Mischief couldn’t stop.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky Barnes became a quiet fixture in your life. He wasn’t the kind to join in on group outings or large training sessions. He mostly kept to himself, which, in a way, you could relate to. The weight of his past was something you recognized in yourself. A type of emotional burden carried alone, pushing people away without ever intending to.

Mischief, however, now had different ideas about Bucky. She followed him around like a shadow, watching his every move, her eyes always narrowing suspiciously whenever he so much as looked in your direction.

And then came the first moment that Bucky spoke to her directly.

You were sitting in the common room, legs tucked underneath you, reading a book when Bucky entered, his usual silent demeanor drifting through the door like a storm cloud. You barely looked up, but Mischief did. She jumped down from the windowsill with a graceful thud, making her way slowly toward Bucky. He froze, eyes narrowing as she circled his feet.

"You've got a problem with me, huh?" He asked, voice low, as if speaking to a wild animal.

Mischief didn’t answer. Instead, she sat down and stared at him, her eyes unblinking, before giving a loud, unmistakable hiss.

Bucky took a slow, measured step back, unsure whether to laugh or be alarmed. “Right… definitely got a problem with me.”

You looked up from your book, feigning innocence. “She’s just… protective.” You tried not to laugh, but the cat’s blatant territorial behavior was almost too much.

“Protective?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Of you?”

You nodded, setting your book aside. “She doesn’t like anyone getting too close to me. Especially not new people.” You gave him a playful smile, though there was an undercurrent of caution. You had no idea what he might say next. Yeah, he’s graciously ignored her behavior the past couple of encounters. But you know that not everyone reacted well to Mischief’s… directness.

Bucky looked at Mischief, who was now sitting on the arm of the couch, staring at him with intense focus but a bit more relaxed. Like she was really assessing him now. He couldn’t seem to hide the slight tension in his shoulders, though his eyes softened just a fraction. “I’ll take her behavior as simply me being new then?” He asked with a wry grin.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Like I said before, she warms up to people eventually.”

“Eventually?” He turned to you, crossing his arms. “How long does that usually take?”

“A few months,” You answered, fully serious, but Mischief’s sudden purring interrupted the tension in the air. You blinked in surprise. Mischief didn’t purr for just anyone, certainly not for someone she didn’t trust who she had threatened previously.

You try not to make it a big deal, knowing maybe something changed her mind and she’s likely trying to give Bucky a chance for you. Or she’s trying to spite you. Either works.

Bucky let out a short, amused huff. “I guess I’m getting there.”

As time passed with your relationship with Bucky slowly becoming more comfortable, he started showing up more too. Helping you with groceries, joining you on the Tower’s rooftop garden, even sitting beside you when you fed a flock of sparrows that landed whenever you called. The birds adored you. One bold little sparrow even landed on Bucky’s knee once, chirped at him twice, and fluttered away.

“She says you look sad but safe,” You told him.

He stared at the spot where the bird had been. “…I’ll take it.”

You didn’t realize it back then, but Mischief had stopped watching Bucky like a threat. She still narrowed her eyes when he got too close, but the claws stayed retracted. And one morning, after Bucky fell asleep on your couch with a book resting on his chest, you walked into the room and found Mischief curled on the back of the couch above his head, keeping watch.

Don’t make this a habit, She warned, but you saw the way she rested her tail across Bucky’s shoulder like a soft little truce flag.

He didn’t wake up. But when he did, and she didn’t move, you didn’t miss the quiet surprise and the ghost of a smile on his face.

Bonus:

The Avengers had long accepted that Mischief was… a little difficult. And by “difficult,” they meant that she was impossible.

Steve tried to be friendly and charming, his warm smile and gentle hands never working when it came to earning her trust. He once tried to bribe her with tuna, only for her to leap onto the counter, knock the can on the floor, and give him a look that suggested he was the most pitiful creature to ever walk the Earth.

Tony, of course, had tried his usual route. Gifts. Expensive toys, cat condos, custom-made collars with diamond studs. Mischief had only hissed at him, her tail twitching with disdain, and turned her back on him every time he walked past. Tony had even tried to sneak in some extra treats with a drone, but Mischief had launched herself at it like a panther on a hunt, sending the drone crashing to the ground in a flurry of sparks and broken components.

Clint and Wanda were no better. Clint had tried talking to her like they were two old friends. He’d even imitated her meows, thinking he could “speak her language.” His reward was a sharp swipe to the face that left him sporting a red scratch for a week. Wanda had tried charm, offering the cat quiet moments and gentle pats. But Mischief simply stared, unblinking, until Wanda gave up, shaking her head and muttering, “She’s something else.”

A couple of the others had tried too, but failed just like the rest. They had all made their peace with it. Mischief was your cat, your problem. None of them expected to get closer to her.

So, when they found out Bucky managed to break some of her walls, it certainly drew some attention.

It wasn’t even anything spectacular at first. At first, it was just him sitting in the common room with his coffee, his book, his quiet presence that always seemed to put you at ease. You, in your usual spot, with Mischief curled at your feet.

But slowly, Bucky had started talking to her. Not in any particular way, just gentle words, a little teasing, soft hums that she might respond to. At first, they were just passing exchanges.

“You’re looking smug today,” Bucky had said, watching Mischief stretch out on the windowsill, her tail swishing slowly.

To his surprise, she’d looked at him, unimpressed, and flicked her tail toward the floor like she was dismissing him entirely. Bucky chuckled softly.

“That’s fine. I’m used to being ignored,” He’d muttered, before turning back to his book.

No one had thought much of it. Until it happened again. And again.

One afternoon, you came into the living room to find Bucky sitting cross-legged on the floor, Mischief lying across his lap. She’d never done that with anyone else. She was curled up, purring softly, and Bucky’s hand was resting just behind her ears, stroking her fur gently.

The other Avengers were lounging around, preparing for the evening’s mission debrief. Steve and Clint had been discussing logistics while Tony fiddled with a gadget, but all of them froze when they saw the scene unfolding in front of them.

Mischief, the aloof, temperamental queen of the Tower, was utterly content in Bucky’s lap.

Tony’s jaw dropped first. “Wait a minute,” He pointed at the scene. “Is that… Mischief?”

“Yeah…” Clint said, his voice a mixture of disbelief and awe. “Is she… purring?”

“I’ve never seen her so… calm,” Bruce added quietly, watching the scene. “She always runs away from us. We can’t even get close without her hissing or hiding.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, furrowing his brow. “What is he doing differently?”

Bucky glanced up, catching their stares. He shrugged with an easy grin. “I don’t know, she just… likes me, I guess.”

Everyone stared at him. Even Tony, who never really lacked for confidence, looked a little thrown off.

“How?” Wanda asked, her tone hesitant. “She’s never… let anyone get that close. Not even me, and I’ve tried for weeks.”

Bucky just chuckled, his hand continuing to stroke Mischief’s back. “I don’t know. Maybe she sees something in me. Or maybe I just smell like someone who doesn’t mind the silence.”

The others exchanged baffled glances. It was true. Bucky was quiet, reserved. He never pushed, never pried. Perhaps that had something to do with it. But no one could quite figure out how he’d managed to break through the barrier that had kept them all at arm’s length.

“I don’t think it’s just that,” Clint said thoughtfully, his eyes still on the cat, his fingers twitching like he was about to reach for her. “I’ve been here longer than you, man. And she’s never let anyone get that close.”

Bucky’s smile faltered for a moment, as if he was considering something deeper. “Maybe she just needed someone who didn’t expect anything from her.”

The team was silent, still watching Mischief as she stretched lazily on Bucky’s lap, a low purr vibrating the air around them. It was the first time anyone had seen her so relaxed in front of someone who wasn’t you.

Steve shook his head in disbelief. “I think we’ve just witnessed a miracle.”

Tony was already pulling out his phone. “I’m gonna start a betting pool. Bucky Barnes: Cat Whisperer. Who knew?”

Wanda chuckled softly, still a little stunned. “What did you do, Bucky? Did you offer her a deal?”

“I think she’s just decided I’m not worth the trouble,” He said, finally giving Mischief’s ears a gentle scratch that made her eyes flutter shut in contentment. “Sometimes, that’s all it takes.”

And just like that, the Avengers knew. There was something about Bucky Barnes, something quiet, something patient, that had finally cracked through the walls of the grumpy black cat that no one else had been able to breach.

Mischief had chosen him. And the rest of them? They were just going to have to deal with it.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 20

Trigger Warnings: None

"How are you feeling?" Minho asked as he brushed a loose strand from her face. "I'm worried that is all," Y/N admitted as she cuddled into Minho's chest, wanting to fall asleep again. Y/N had a bit of a stressful night and struggled with being alone late at night. She didn't want to be alone with her thoughts so she found herself knocking on the beta's door who sat up with her and listened to her thoughts. It brought them closer than they were before. Minho even apologised for his awkward behaviour with her, but she brushed it off as there was too much tension going around the house and it was starting to nerve her. "Give Chan some time. He doesn't mean to push you away, it's a lot for him and he isn't someone who likes to express his emotions." Minho explained as he kissed her forehead, trying to soothe her worries even though he was concerned himself. He was worried about Chan. They had gotten over and dealt with the emotions of his uncle before, but now that it had all come to light again, Minho wasn't sure how to make it right. "How about me and you spend the day together?" Minho suggested, "we can cook together, and watch some films. I do have to make a shopping list." "What about the plan with Hongjoong? Minho I'm worried, I've been here six weeks." Y/N stated. "Shh. Me and Jeongin are on it. We have been working on a plan since you have arrived. We have been doing some digging around Hongjoong and your pack to try and prove Hongjoong kidnapped you out of spite." Minho explained. "I don't understand." "The werewolf council far north doesn't particularly like Hongjoong either and is more in favour of cooperating with us, but we need a strong amount of proof to appeal to them. If not then it's a war. Chan doesn't know me and Jeongin have been going out to find stuff." Minho stated as he got up to grab his clothes ready to have a shower, leaving Y/N to her thoughts. Y/N hadn't expected Jeongin and Minho to look into options as soon as she arrived. She wondered what they had found out and if she could help them in the future or the next time they went out.

While Minho was showering, Y/N rummaged through his clothes and put on his hoodie along with his jogging bottoms before heading into the kitchen to make a start. She gathered some ingredients and laid them out. "If you're going to poison them I would take Seungmin out, he is a little shit," Minho stated as he affectionately wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his nose into her hair, breathing in her scent. "I can cook Min," Y/N whispered, feeling slightly shy at his actions. He had never willingly embraced her before it was normally the other way around. She didn't want to ruin it by mentioning it, instead, she allowed him to hold her, watching her chop up somethings. "How is Seungmin a little shit?" Y/N asked, causing the older wolf to scoff. "When is he not? Don't be fooled by him. Seungmin has a sharp tongue and can be very sly." Minho warned playfully as he squeezed her tightly, before letting her go when the door opened to reveal a naked Jisung. Jisung jumped and covered himself with a dead bunny when he saw his little wolf was up and helping the beta. "Uh, me and Innie got some rabbits and deer meat for you," Jisung said nervously as he shuffled towards the counter to drop the bunnies off before scurrying up the stairs. Y/N watched him in amusement as she eyed his naked self, he was incredibly beautiful and he had a cute little ass. "You'll burn it," Minho whispered as he touched Y/N's hand with a knowing look.

The two of them continued to cook while occasionally nudging one another playfully. Once they finished Y/N sent Jisung to wake the others up so they could start eating. The wolves seemed much more eager to eat when they heard their omega helped to cook. Jisung was the first wolf to shove a mouthful of food in, which caused Changbin to smack him around the head. Even Hyunjin appreciated her food despite his unusually quiet behaviour. He was quiet normally but there was always a remark that followed through. Hyunjin could see her concerns so he gave a quick smile and a wave of calm energy. What concerned her was Chan wasn't present at breakfast. "He's gone to work early," Seungmin stated as he noticed her look for him. "What are everyone's plans today?" Y/N asked. "I'm going to the gym with Jisung, Jeongin and Hyunjin today. I would offer but nuna said no gym for you." Changbin gave Y/N a smirk knowing he would eventually get her in the gym at least once. He only wanted her to go so he could be extra close and fulfill his little gym instructor fantasies. "Jeongin and Hyunjin. Yah. I don't need to be bullied today." Jisung's voice was stressed as he thought about the pressure of the two alphas. "If you worked out more you would be fine Hyung!" Jeongin teased causing the older beta to shake his head. "The audacity of this alpha. He's not a little kid anymore." Jisung shook his head at Jeongin's attitude. "I'm still your alpha." Jeongin teased as he stole a piece of Jisung's meat. Y/N watched the two playfully tease each other. It felt normal as if everything was fine. She wanted this forever with them. "Felix, what will you do today?" Y/N asked as she looked at the blonde wolf whose eyes couldn't reach hers. He felt he did not deserve to look at her after what he had done. "Uh. I'm going to go for a run this morning." Felix answered awkwardly. "I'm gonna stay with you and Minho hyung." Seungmin interrupted as he gave Minho a playful look, causing the elder to glare. He did not want his date ruined by the younger beta. He was in trouble when he wanted to be. "Can't you go somewhere else?" Minho asked, a glare forming on his face as he watched the younger wolf playfully kiss the omega's neck and give the beta a sly look. "Why? Is there no room to love your favourite beta too?" Seungmin slurred. "Heathen!" Minho flared flashing his amber eyes at the wolf. "It's okay Min. Seungmin can clean the kitchen today." Y/N demanded as she flashed the wolf a look as she passed him the towel. Seungmin looked at the towel as if it was a foreign object. "Uh. What is this? I don't clean." Seungmin argued. "Uh. You will. Hyunjin can alpha order you." Y/N sassed, causing the wolves to either choke or grin. "No. No. Let me try." Jeongin said excitedly, "Seungmin go and clean up. Did it work?" "No I am not. I'm not a housewife." Seungmin argued. "Seungmin do as Y/N says all day." Hyunjin commanded his eyes glowing their usual dark shade of red causing Seungmin to huff into the kitchen. "You've got to put meaning into it and force," Hyunjin explained to the younger alpha who was scratching his head awkwardly. "We can practice on Jisung." "Uh, huh. No." Jisung laughed nervously at the thought of being the guinea pig today. Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile before getting up to hand a grumpy wolf the dirty plates.

Minho had to admit it was funny to watch the wolf doing chores at least once in his life, but the only concerning thing was the wolf was putting some of them in the wrong places. He had even seen Seungmin toss the bowl into the wrong cupboard. Y/N pushed Minho into the living room so they could watch a film together. "Don't be mean, Minho." Y/N chided as she wrapped her arms around the beta's waist. "What? He looks like an angry puppy." Minho laughed even louder when he heard Seungmin's growls come from the kitchen. Y/N shook her head and dragged the wolf into the living room so they could watch a film together. It worked out successfully until the young beta interrupted them every fifteen minutes to question where something went. Minho knew he was doing it on purpose because every time Minho snuggled closer Seungmin popped up. Every time Minho went to kiss her, the obnoxious wolf would present himself with a confused innocent look about not knowing where it goes. Minho was incredibly frustrated. He wanted to spend time with his omega but it was becoming impossible. All Minho wanted was to show his love for the female wolf. As much as Y/N found it amusing she could feel the frustration radiating off of the beta so as soon as Seungmin left the room to place the random object back to its rightful place, the female wolf threw herself at the beta, smashing their lips together. Minho didn't expect it but allowed her to assault his lips as he quickly tried to match her pace. His hand reached to her back as he slid his leg over her waist drawing her closer. His tongue finally entered the cavern of her mouth. Minho didn't want to be too invasive but he also wanted to show his love for her. "Wow! Did Minho Hyung have his first kiss? Who would have thought." Seungmin taunted causing the wolves to jump and a snarl erupting from the beta's throat. Minho stood there with a shit-eating grin as he held a vase. "Didn't you know? Minho has never kissed anyone before." Seungmin snickered as he watched Minho's ears start to turn red in embarrassment. "I mean you stole his first kiss a few weeks ago, but Minho is a virgin at everything. You know-" "Outside. Now. Off you go." Y/N ordered as she waved the annoying wolf outside, before shutting the door on him. Seungmin rolled his eyes and walked back through the door when she stopped him. "I wasn't joking, you can stay outside all day," Y/N stated. "Don't be so mean little puppy, it doesn't suit you." Seungmin chided. "No. Then don't be a little shit. You're staying outside." Y/N ordered knowing he couldn't do anything about it since Hyunjin ordered him to follow her instructions today.

Y/N headed back to the living room to see an embarrassed Minho flitting around the kitchen as he looked for things to add to his shopping list. Y/N felt bad for him. Not because of him being a virgin but the fact that Seungmin blurted it out was horrible. It was kind of attractive to Y/N that Minho and Jisung were virgins but she also didn't want it to set an expectation because she wasn't a virgin. "Minho," Y/N called out as she looked at his shopping list and added some things to it. "Minho. Look at me." Y/N called out, making the wolf slowly turn around. His face held no expression and his eyes didn't reach hers. "It doesn't matter. None of it does." Y/N promised. The beta nodded his head and turned back around causing Y/N to pull at him. "Don't hide." "I need to go shopping, little wolf," Minho stated before grabbing her face to kiss her forehead. Y/N stared at the spot he once was and sighed. Why do they all go funny when there are problems? Why don't they talk to me?

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim

[justsomegdude]

Prisoner!Negan x Newcomer-Alexandrian!Gn!Reader

Prompt: “who were you before the war?”

warning: Negan lol

Most of your time here has been spent with you figuring out what you can do to help. You tried farmer, that was a no-go. Blacksmithing, not a chance. Supply runs, you weren’t even allowed to go.. until eventually you made terms with just being a member of the community.

You’re newer to Alexandria, only arriving a few months after a war. A war you’d not know about if it weren’t for the constant stories about it.. The man Negan, his name was always a hushed whisper. A silent voice that carried around the community. Sometimes you’d get more insight, little details of the war that people talked to loudly about, and the sight of Dwight and how you overheard that Negan was the reason that his has the scar.

You were always the type of person to make your own opinions about everything. Food, People, games, books, etc. In this case, you wanted to meet Negan yourself to finally get around why he was so hated. What he did that caused the war.

So, eventually you talked to Rick about maybe letting you be the one in charge of him, food, bathing, haircuts.. At first he said he’d think about it. You knew he talked to Gabriel first, and Gabriel seemed almost happy to know someone else wanted to do it. Which only brought more and more questions about Negan..

First day going down there felt scary, it was a dark basement looking door, that entered up to a pretty dark room inside. Why you decided to do this, you’re not entirely sure. You could have probably asked around about him, but you hear what they say, it’s all aggressive stuff. You wanted to see for yourself about it.

Plate in hand for Negan, you stepped inside. Glancing around until your eyes adjusted to the darkened room, noticing who you presume in Negan. Sitting alone in this cell. “Hi.” You spoke up, unsure of what else would need to be said here.

Sliding the tray under the door towards him, he spoke up. “You’re not Gabe.” His expression turned into an amused one. A smile as he picked up the tray. This was seriously the man everyone feared?

“No, I’m y/n, i’ll be your new… caregiver?” You weren’t sure what you’d technically be considered for this job.

“Well.. y/n… I’m Negan.” He smirks, his hands shaking picked up the utensils to eat. You can tell he is cocky, just the way he spoke and how he kinda held himself up. Even with thinking that, how can this one man be so feared. He looks older than Rick, he’s on the skinner side. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

You stood there for a minute, just watching him eat. This is a job you’d have to do for some time before you’d probably get a truthful answer for your question.

So that’s what you did, for a few weeks you went down to give him his meals. Talked more and more everyday.. but your question couldn’t be answered. How he was so feared… until he began to discuss what he did during his time as a leader. Most of it seemed.. well normal. For the apocalypse anyways. Some methods were inhumane, like the iron, or bashing heads in.. but you’ve seen and heard of much worse leaders, doing much worse things.

He killed two people, that’s what you learned. There’s names.. Glenn and Abraham. That’s how most of them hated him… But Rick was the one to attack first. It seemed almost fair, until Negan spoke about how he killed them. It made sense, if you’d have been there, you don’t know what you’d feel, think, or do.

This day was the same as everyday. Visit Negan with food, chat a little and then wait until tomorrow. You step down the stairs and open the door, the familiar voice spoke up. “Y/n! I’m hungry!.” You could tell he had a big smile on his face. Without even seeing him.

You step in front of the cell and slid the meal under the bars. “I got your food, don’t worry.” You stepped back as you watched him eat.. but one question, that Negan never answered, was on your mind. “who were you before the war?”

That caught Negan off guard. He stopped eating and he looked up at you. “A horrible person.” His reply caught you off guard. He seemed so cocky about everything he’s done. Like he’s proud of it all.. but his reply says so much that words don’t. “Listen. There’s a reason people fear me, y/n. I did… a lot of things i’d take back. Hell maybe i’d kill every single one of the people up there. Maybe i’d just kill Rick. Maybe i’d not even become the leader of the saviors.. but i did what i did and im living the consequences.”

You just stood there… what weee you supposed to do? Staring at the man whose Ego is bigger than mount Everest, sitting looking like he’s never had a confident day in his life. The man who flirts in hopes for extra food, the man who everyone fears, the man you’ve grown to like.. sitting there, spilling his regrets. “Everyone does stuff they’re not proud of.” Your words hardly above a whisper.

He smiles again, but it seemed more genuine than all the other grins he’s done.

He’s what everyone says he was, but no one talks about how he is now. Maybe you’ll finally be his comfort in this dark cell.

[baddieland09]

May I please request a TWD fic where the reader joins the prison after the woodbury war and stays silent until Carol finds them crying. Including dialogue “i don’t have anyone anymore” “you have me”

You’re never alone

-

Carol x Fem reader

Summary:after the attack on Woodbury you have never been the same always quiet and by thereself

Word count:

Warnings:Angst,Fluff,death um i don’t know what else really

Authors note:I didn’t know if you meant like found family or relashonship wise so I didnt found family but if it was something else in mind Im sorry😭 tell me and I’ll fix it

-

It had been a couple weeks since the war between Rick and his group and Woodbury everyone I knew and cared for was dead including my family It hurt a lot knowing I’d never be able to have memory’s with them again

I remember after the war I had woken up in a large room stairs and food around, tables and one big door to a bigger room cells

I was scared I didn’t know where I was or who I was with or if I was safe I then remember a person named Rick coming in with two other people Daryl and Glenn

I remember them asking a lot of questions my name,who my family was,how many people have a killed,how many walkers have I killed I was hesitant to answer but with the threat of going outside by myself I answered short worded answers

After that they let me in and it has been another 1 week after that and I wouldn’t talk to anyone just stayed in my cell and did my chore’s

It was currently dinner time and I hadn’t come out to eat yet I wasn’t hungry I don’t know why I just wasn’t in fact I felt sick to my stomach

I just quietly went outside I wasn’t supposed to be but I did it anyways like most nights I did it helped me clear my head

I walked around the outside of the prison ignoring the groans and moans of the walkers outside of the fences I kill a couple then just go to a different area

I climb onto a higher area of ruble just thinking about everything life had changed so fast I didn’t know how to deal with it I was still young

I hear a noise and look around it wasn’t a walker but it sounded close and human like so I quickly climb down trying to run back inside

I didn’t know if it was someone trying to hurt me or just another memeber of Ricks group coming outside maybe to keep watch I don’t know but I quickly climbed thru a window going back inside

I went back to my room seeing a couple people stare at me but I didn’t care I enjoyed my time alone and I didn’t owe anyone a explanation about where I was or what I was doing

I sit on my bed rubbing my eyes and deciding I’d go to bed because what else is there to do

The next day I got up a little early still seeing the sun was rising the orangey hue making me shield my eyes as I leave me cell quietly

I look for some food finding some left over from last night hearing a noise from behind me I quickly turned around scared it would be a walker who got in

Instead I saw carol she was one of the first people to talk to me and was always nice to me but I really didn’t talk to her or anyone for that matter

“I saw you outside last night you know youre not supposed to do that it’s dangerous” She says

I nod grabbing the leftovers and take a bite chewing then swallowing the food

“So?” I said she rolled her eyes at that

“You need to be at least more safe if you’re gonna go out like that bring a gun or knife and more than one” She corrects me

“I already have those” I then tried to correct her

“This is the most I’ve heard you talk since you’ve got here” she laughs a little

I went back to my room eating the food like a starved man I just didn’t like being around a lot of people at the moment

It was dinner once again and I came downstairs deciding for once to join them even if I didn’t talk just going to eat or get my food and leave

I got my food and went back to my room eating the food before sneaking back outside once again not knowing someone saw me and then them deciding to follow me

I sat on the ruble again just thinking back to it how wrong it was how everyone I knew had died how it was too late to go back and change what happened

I sat there and began picking at the skin around my fingers a habit I had picked up since the beginning of the apocalypse I just wanted my old life back but I couldn’t and I had to get over it and THATS what I always told myself

I feel myself start to tear up I try to hold it back telling myself it wouldn’t help and also I didn’t want to attract any more walkers there already was

It was to late tho as I began crying into my sleeve trying to cover myself everything was to fast I missed my parents I missed my freinds I missed everything it wasn’t fair I was just a kid

I didn’t notice someone getting closer as I kept crying hitting the jacket because I was getting louder I didn’t hear the footsteps or anything

I could feel someone’s eyes on me and quickly grabbed my knife as I wiped my eyes turning my head quickly ready for the worst

I see carol thats the face I saw

“G-go away leave me alone” I tried to push her away but in that moment I didn’t want too

“Are you okay?” She said with so much concern and THATS all it took for me to break down again turning my head away from her in embarrassment

Those three simple words was all it took for me to break I hear her walk closer and sit beside me waiting for me to say something and I couldn’t I just kept quiet trying to stop crying

“It’s okay you know to cry you went thru a lot” I hear her say as I wipe my eyes but I was still crying as I feel more tears on my waterline

“I-it’s not okay tho” I quickly say

“I don’t have anyone anymore” I say as the tears roll down my cheeks

“You have me”

I quickly started crying again I feel her wrap her arms around me rubbing my back as I cried into her jacket holding onto her like a little kid

“Im here for you know whether you like it or not”

I just nod and she kept her promise

[samieree]

Dawn of the North || Game of Thrones

Robb Stark x OC

Description:

King Robert Baratheon wanted to get rid of every Targaryen. Apart from Daenerys and Viserys, he hadn’t dealt with the two remaining hidden in the shadows of the Crown.

Amalthea has been living from day to day for three years, traveling with her companion throughout the lands of Westeros.

Shortly after Joffrey Baratheon takes power, war breaks out, declared because of locking Ned Stark in the dungeons of the Red Keep and accusing him of treason. Amalthea finds herself in the middle of this conflict only because her heart beat faster for a handsome young man two years ago.

Prologue

Two years. A lot and a little, although now that she thought about it, it had been a very long time for her. She was sitting in the inn with Ryledia - her companion and closest person. Every day she thanked fate for inheriting her unremarkable light brown eyes. They would be harder to hide than her silver hair, which was almost always carefully hidden under a dark red wig. Her mother cut her over-hip-long hair off for this, so that her daughter would be safe while living under the rule of a man who would be willing to cut off her head just because of the color of her hair.

Throughout that year, she tried not to think about her parents and the decisions she made that day. She scratched the back of her neck and looked at Ryledia. They sat next to each other. Her dark-haired companion was always very protective of her, she was the one who took the seats on the edge, she was the one who kept watch longer if they had to sleep outdoors. She was also the one who did the hunting.

Together they come up with a plan if they needed to rob someone of a few coppers or silver if they couldn't hunt anything.

This was the first time they had traveled this far. They didn't plan to go to the North at first. After all, it was colder there, so they needed thicker clothes to keep them from freezing at night. Ryledia was the one who always wanted to see these lands and the people who inhabit them, to find out if the rumors were true.

"There's nothing like a mug of mulled mead, is there?" Ryledia asked, offering Amalthea a mug.

The young - only fifteen years old at the time - girl grimaced, but took a large sip of mead sl it would warm her up a little from the inside. She didn't like the taste. Apart from good quality wine, she did not like alcohol. But well, they couldn't afford that very often. Unless Amalthea batted her long, dark eyelashes a little and talked someone into buying them some.

Ryledia never liked it when she did this, but when she really wanted something good, she turned a blind eye and silently kept her hand on the hilt of her sword, in case she needed to react quickly.

"It depends on who." Amy replied, wiping her mouth with her hand and pushing the mug across the table back to her companion. "You seem to like being here."

"You know, it's nice to hear someone agree with you." what she meant was that the vast majority of Northerners shared her opinion about the perfumed southern knights, who were tough until the first blow landed on their face.

"I think there are still quite a few marriageable girls who would disagree with you." Amalthea was part of this group herself, although it couldn't be said that she admired... for example Loras Tyrell, like most women her age who even heard about his beauty. Yes, she smiled slightly to herself at the thought of thick curls, but she didn't consider it a wonderful topic for hours of conversation.

"It doesn't count." she muttered and looked over her shoulder to see if anyone was already carrying their food.

Meanwhile, a man in his early thirties approached their table and threw a few coppers on the table. This immediately caught the attention of both girls, they even had the same reaction: frowning in surprise. Then the man added three more coins.

"But only because she's pretty." he said, pointing at Amalthea. Immediately afterwards, he leaned over the table and extended his hand towards her. Ryledia suddenly stood up.

"Touch her with even a finger and you'll lose your whole arm." she growled, glaring at the man. He was over a head taller than her - and it's worth mentioning, because Ryledia wasn't short herself, she was about ten centimeters taller than Amalthea - but she wasn't the kind of person who would chicken out over it. Especially since he dared to consider her closest friend a whore he could buy.

She was about to draw her sword, but the man was faster and aimed a punch at her, forcing her to crouch in order to dodge it, and she didn't have time to draw her sword before he was close to her.

There weren't many people in the inn at the time, and those who were sitting at their tables didn't look like they wanted to get involved. Even when Ryledia was grabbed by the front of her shirt and thrown to the ground.

Amalthea's first instinct was to step back, sitting now against the wall. She never had to fight, only to run away. It is true that she always had a dagger with her, attached to a garter or to her belt - if she was wearing trousers. Ryledia often scolded her for her preference for the two dresses she had left, but understanding the girl's reason for wearing them, she tried to accept it. Even though they were definitely less practical than pants, especially in a situation like this.

After throwing the older girl on the ground, the man turned towards Amalthea again, but not for long, because Ryledia stabbed him in the foot, effectively drawing attention to herself - unfortunately, it resulted in her getting a kick in the stomach so hard that it made her cough.

Fear finally began to turn into determination to do something and Amalthea reached for her dagger, but before she could draw it to somehow stop the man from hurting her dear friend again, the three of them heard someone else draw a sword.

"M-my Lord…" the man immediately stepped away, raising his hands and bowing his head. Amalthea saw his hands suddenly begin to tremble. She leaned out and saw several men.

Two of them stood out, they were dressed slightly differently, more richly. They had better furs, silver decorated their clothes. She only realized who had come to their aid when she noticed the silver direwolf on the chests of both of them. Ryledia noticed the same thing when she managed to get up off the ground before someone offered to help her with it - yes, she hated when she had to accept someone's help. She wanted to at least do this much herself if she couldn't protect Amalthea.

"Why did you hit that woman? What did she do to you, didn't let you sit beside her?" said the elder Stark, Lord Eddard. Fortunately, they decided to come here after the hunt.

"I'm afraid he expected more than a chat over mead, father." Robb looked at the coppers lying on the table and then his eyes fell on the girl sitting almost against the wall. "Are you alright, my Lady?" he approached and extended his hand towards her to help her get up from the bench.

Amalthea was not like Ryledia. She accepted the young man's hand and even smiled gently.

"I'm okay, he didn't manage to touch me." she felt a gentle warmth on her cheeks, while looking into the boy's blue eyes.

If girls swoon over Ser Loras, does he look like Robb Stark or even better?

She wasn't sure if her legs were shaking because she had just experienced one of the worst moments of her life, or because she had never felt like smiling like an idiot because of a man until now. Probably because of both of these reasons, and it was the same with her rapidly beating heart.

"This is definitely not enough for compensation." Ned said, looking at the few coppers still on the table.

"No, my Lord, please…" the man fell to his knees, but in his heart he was grateful that nothing had happened, because he was aware of the punishment he would face for rape under Lord Stark's jurisdiction.

Amalthea remembers that the man didn't get a very severe punishment back then, but because he raised a hand against Ryledia, he had to pay dearly and lost two fingers with the threat of losing his entire hand if he was ever caught doing something equally indecent.

Sometimes she has the impression that Ryledia suffered more later, on their journey, because of how much she talked to her about Lord Stark's eldest son.

Only in the evening did she realize how much she was annoying Ryledia, and she endured it in silence, so as not to say something she might regret later. She decided never to bring up this topic again, and instead to sink into her thoughts and there talk to herself about this handsome boy. As the days, weeks, and finally two years passed, she stopped thinking about him. Only occasionally did his image pierce her thoughts when she saw someone with similarly blue eyes or whose hair was arranged in almost the same curls.

Well, her racing heart came back to her now that she had the chance to see him again after those two, long years.

And it wasn't just her pulse that accelerated.

~

-> Chapter I ''Beginning'' -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[multiverse--wanderer]

Unshaken Outlaws | Arthur Morgan x John Marston [ENG]

[ Fan-Fiction based on the OTP between Arthur Morgan and John Marston from Red Dead Redemption ] In a world where the last cowboys are ruthlessly hunted, survival is the only rule. Loyalty, fragile yet vital, is the thread that binds the outlaws together, their sole hope in a landscape marked by betrayal and constant danger. Amidst war and a passion that defies the rules, Arthur and John will find an unexpected path to redemption as their world crumbles around them. For Dutch's gang, the fight for survival has never been easy, but it becomes even more complicated when a forbidden love blossoms amid fallen bullets, lies, and deep wounds. Can this love become the sanctuary they need to withstand the coming chaos, or will it be the end of everything they know?

...

REMINDER:

This story has been written in Spanish, which is my native language. This story has been translated to the best of my ability, although it is possible that it may have mistakes.

This is just a way to transport my writing to a common language for the rest of fans like me. For a better immersion, I recommend reading the story in its original version.

You can find this story on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own.

Thank you so much for reading me and see you in the stars.

...

Chapter 3: The Cold Spring

Present

"We've been running for weeks. We've taken refuge and are resting here, in an abandoned old mining town, while we wait for the snow to melt... Spring isn't going as I expected. There are no more sunsets filled with promises, where joy slipped away between passionate kisses. Now, all that's left is cold and despair, though the feeling still burns beneath layers of snow and condensed ice.

Remembering hurts.

I bought this new journal after the previous one burned in the fire a few months ago (I can't remember when exactly). I haven't written or drawn much in the past few weeks, but I've missed it more than I expected, so when I was near a store, I thought, "What if I buy another one?" After the fire and everything that happened up north, we spent a few months living in the wild, traveling from the Grizzlies to the worst part of winter, trapped in the western mountains. Food was easy to find, and we were living well. Dutch was interested in buying some land he'd heard about, but it didn't fit his preferences, or maybe he was afraid the authorities were watching us and someone knew who he was. So, we never bought it and kept wandering here and there. In the Grizzlies, we recruited two more members: Jenny, a lovely young woman we found alone by the side of the road, and Micah, an outlaw Dutch met in a nearby saloon. It seems Dutch is fascinated by Micah because he's impulsive, combative, and arrogant. Hosea and I aren't too fond of him. We'll see what happens.

Eventually, we managed to leave the wilderness and took refuge outside Blackwater, although sometimes I stayed in the city looking for ways to make money.

In Blackwater, I may have discovered something interesting. We had plenty of money, and the path we took was so winding and slow that no one could follow us southeast or figure out where we were headed. We thought about going to California, but Dutch and Hosea ended up taking us to Blackwater. It seemed like Blackwater had grown a lot since the last time they were there; they told me it was mostly a trading post. But it developed so quickly that it's practically a small city now. Corruption seems to run rampant, and it's clear that money is abundant there. I slept in a bed there, which is a pleasure once in a while after living so long in a tent, but I've never liked the idea of being so close to a city.

We lived there, and most of the time we camped outside the city, trying to stay unnoticed. Life there was uncomplicated. Abigail and Marston never stopped (and never will) arguing. I wonder why she came back. It seems she can't decide if she wants to act like a mother to her son or not. Their arguments exhaust me...

Hosea and I had a plan while we were there, something important we'd made a lot of money from, stemming from a real estate scam Hosea thought he'd uncovered. It was the perfect crime: robbing some criminals, and we were very careful. It's always fun working with Hosea because he comes up with the wildest ideas... Even if we end up with nothing, we have a great time. Hosea is a born talker, though back then, he was worried about us drawing too much attention in the city for too long. Dutch also thought he'd uncovered something important: a ship carrying money from the banks. Micah and Dutch planned to rob the ferry in the city, believing it was full of riches since it was carrying money meant for the banks. I didn't participate in the heist. Hosea and I were too busy with our own matters, and Dutch always seems to trust that if the group stays united, everything will be fine.

Their plan was to carry out the heist and then flee to the western plains. The next day, Hosea and I would pull off our scam and meet up with them. Things got pretty complicated.

Now we've been running for weeks. The ferry heist they pulled off in Blackwater turned into a disaster. They killed young Jenny, poor thing, and no one is sure if Sean and Mac are dead or were captured. Dutch shot a girl, not sure if by accident or on purpose, and it's possible we were set up. We fled in a panic through the hills, leaving almost all our belongings behind. Then, while running east through the Grizzlies, we were caught by a storm. Davey Collander, who had been shot in the stomach during the raid, passed away. Watching him die was overwhelming, and the rest of us nearly froze, but we found shelter and are resting here, in an old abandoned mining town, waiting for the snow to melt.

Spring isn't going as I expected. Hosea and I had planned a heist of our own in Blackwater, but I think that's in the past, like most of my previous belongings. I'm deeply worried about what will happen once we leave this place or if the authorities find us hiding here.

I've found a girl; well, a woman, actually. Her husband was killed by some of Colm O'Driscoll's men. Something horrible. Her name is Sadie Adler."

Arthur's pen came to a stop as he closed the journal that cold morning, his numb fingers barely able to trace the final line. Outside, the storm continued to roar like a wounded beast, and inside the cabin, the air felt so cold that the men's breath formed small clouds in front of their faces. The wooden planks, worn by the moisture, allowed the cold to pass through like invisible blades that pierced to the bone. It was a modest cabin, barely an improvised refuge for desperate times, shared by Arthur, Hosea, and Dutch, each of them struggling with their own demons while trying to escape the ghosts that haunted them.

Arthur rose from the chair in his small room, the creaking of his boots on the wooden floor echoing in the silence. He walked down the hallway to the central fireplace, where the fire fought to stay alive, flickering in shades of orange and gold. In front of the flames, Dutch and Hosea sat, their figures cloaked in shadows and a palpable air of tension that seemed more tangible than the cold itself. The arguments between them were as common as they were inevitable, especially in moments like this, when decisions weighed heavier than ever and uncertainty gnawed at everyone's spirit.

—When the storm lets up, we'll leave. —Dutch said, in the tone of someone trying to convince even himself—. But for now, we're fine here. We're not too cold.

He extended his hands toward the fire, letting out a soft groan as he felt the warmth on his sore fingers. Arthur leaned against the stones of the fireplace, observing the contrast between the two men. Hosea, with his sharp, calm gaze, seemed to be analyzing every word Dutch said with a mixture of skepticism and patience. Finally, he responded with a simple:

—I suppose.

That one word, laden with resignation, seemed to trigger something in Dutch. He lifted his gaze to Hosea, noticing the fleeting expression on his face that sought something in Arthur—perhaps confirmation of his own doubts. Arthur, caught between the two like a pawn in a chess game, lowered his eyes, trying to avoid becoming the target of the tension that was about to erupt.

—It seems you have doubts. —Dutch accused, his voice sharp as a dagger.

The air in the cabin grew colder than the weather outside, and Arthur tucked his head into the collar of his coat, seeking to protect himself from something more than just the freezing wind.

—I don't have doubts, I'm just concerned. —Hosea replied calmly, though his tone didn't soften.

The eyes of both men locked in a silent duel, a battle that Hosea won when Dutch, with a sigh of frustration, shifted his gaze to Arthur. Arthur felt the weight of the expectations fall on him as Dutch spoke:

—What do you think, Arthur?

Arthur swallowed, knowing that any words he spoke could tip the balance. He kept his tone firm, though his hands clenched into fists inside his pockets.

—Well, I wasn't on that boat, so it's hard to say. But I trust your judgment, Dutch. I always have.

Arthur's words seemed to temporarily calm Dutch's inner turmoil. He nodded slowly, massaging his cracked hands while his gaze once again drifted into the fire.

—Thanks, son. —He said, his voice softer, almost paternal, before turning toward Hosea with a hardened expression—. We've been through this before. I don't think this is anything new.

—I hope not. —Hosea replied, not conceding an inch.

—We've had some bad luck, but the storm has covered our tracks, so we wait a little longer, go back to Blackwater, and grab the money, or get more money and keep heading west.

The conversation continued like a game of chess, each word measured, every gesture laden with meaning. Dutch, always the dreamer, the strategist, spoke with the confidence of a man accustomed to leading, while Hosea, more pragmatic, tried to anchor him to reality.

—But we're heading east.

—For now... for now. Everything's fine, Hosea. We're safe. Stay strong.

Dutch rose from his chair with a heavy sigh, his movements reflecting the exhaustion of days filled with uncertainty and tension. The wood creaked under his weight, a sound that resonated through the cabin like a somber echo, almost as much as the words he had just spoken. His gaze turned to Arthur, still leaning against the fireplace. Dutch's dark, hard, determined eyes studied him as if they wanted to pierce through the layers of his coat and reach his soul. Arthur, unlike Hosea, hesitated before meeting his gaze. There was something in Dutch, a mix of authority and distrust, that made it harder to face him in moments like these.

—What do you say, Arthur? —Dutch asked, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible challenge—. Do you doubt me too?

—Never.

Arthur's response came before Dutch could finish his sentence, quick, almost desperate to dispel any hint of suspicion. His tone was calm but firm, as if he were willing to cling to those words with all his might. Dutch let out a sigh, one that carried a mixture of relief and pride.

—Good, because you know me, boy... This is just the beginning. Once we get some money, well... They'd better send competent men after us, because they'll never find us... But we need money.

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes briefly drifting toward Hosea, who sat silently behind Dutch. Though Hosea said nothing, his expression spoke volumes. A slight nod, almost imperceptible, seemed to shout the doubts Arthur couldn't voice aloud. Dutch, however, didn't notice that small betrayal of silence, or perhaps chose to ignore it. Instead, he leaned toward Arthur and gave him a couple of heavy pats on the shoulder, his gesture paternal and weighty.

—Thanks for your strength, boy. It means a lot to me.

Arthur didn't respond. He felt the weight of Dutch's words like an anchor that added to the already unbearable burden of loyalty he had always shown him. Dutch turned toward the cabin door, his steps resonating with determination as he grabbed his weapons and adjusted them to his belt. He didn't spare a single glance toward Hosea, who remained seated by the fire with an expression that fluctuated between weariness and reproach.

—And the money's well hidden in Blackwater? —Arthur asked, raising his voice slightly when he saw that Dutch was about to leave.

Dutch stopped with his hand on the door handle. He turned just slightly, letting his eyes rest on Arthur for a prolonged moment, as if evaluating the sincerity behind the question.

—I think so —he finally replied—. They don't even know we tossed it.

—Well, then it can wait.

Dutch nodded with a slight grunt, opened the door, and stepped outside. The snow-laden wind rushed into the cabin with a chilling force, bringing a blast of ice that made the candles flicker and snuffed out part of the fire. The snow that had accumulated on the doorway's planks slid inside, forming a cold, damp puddle that seemed to claim the space Dutch had left behind. When the door slammed shut behind him, the silence settled again, though now it felt heavier, more uncomfortable.

Hosea let out a deep sigh, so heavy it seemed to take part of his energy with it. He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning back in the chair as if he needed to reorganize his thoughts. Arthur, who had been watching everything in silence, moved closer to him, stepping carefully, as if he feared disturbing the delicate balance left in the room.

—How are you, Hosea? —Arthur asked in a low tone, almost a whisper—. You were coughing all night.

Arthur placed a hand on Hosea's back, a gesture full of care and familiarity. To Arthur, Hosea was more than just a companion on the road; he was a father figure, a counselor, someone he could always trust.

—It's the cold —Hosea replied, downplaying the matter with a wave of his hand—. Thanks for bringing John back.

Those words carried a different weight, a gratitude that went beyond mere courtesy. It was a sign of trust, of respect.

—Of course.

Arthur rolled his eyes slightly, sensing in Hosea's gaze something more than gratitude. There was a spark of understanding in his eyes, as if he knew what the young man was feeling, like a mother who knows her child's secrets without needing them spoken aloud.

Suddenly, Arthur noticed a figure in the doorway. Molly, with her red curls and green eyes, was watching from the shadows, her arms crossed in front of her chest. There was something in her posture that seemed to ask permission to come closer, but also something that held her back, as if she knew that the warmth of the fire wouldn't be enough to melt the coldness that hung in the air.

—Are you okay, Molly? —Arthur asked, turning toward her with a gentle tone—. It's warmer by the fire.

—No, I'm fine, thanks. —Molly murmured, her accent wrapping around her words.

But her eyes told a different story. Tired, disappointed, Molly preferred the solitude of a cold room to facing the tension still hanging in the air by the fire. Arthur nodded, understanding without insisting. Finally, he decided it was time to leave.

On the porch, he found Dutch, the cigarette lit between his fingers, the smoke rising in spirals that were lost in the snowstorm. Arthur leaned on the railing, his hands leaving warm prints in the accumulated snow. The silence between them was more eloquent than any words.

—Thanks, Arthur. Thanks for bringing John back. Finally, a little peace.

Arthur held back the sigh that threatened to escape from his chest. He knew that any gesture, any misplaced word, could betray him under Dutch's inquisitive gaze.

—The wolves gave him a good beating, but he'll be fine —he replied finally. And in a barely audible murmur, he added—: I hope.

Dutch smiled faintly, his expression reflecting a mix of confidence and exhaustion.

—He's been awake for a few hours. You might want to visit him.

—I think he'll be fine. He's got good company, and I've got things to do.

Arthur didn't look at him as he descended the stairs into the snowy expanse before them. However, both knew he would go. He would always go for him.

...

CONTINUE READING THE FULL CHAPTER HERE:

Chapter also available in ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61174720/chapters/158540431

[schrijverr]

Taking a Personal Inventory

s02e06: Dosed. An introspection into Hen’s mind after the stint with the drugs.

On AO3.

Ships: Henren mentioned, plus past eva/hen mentioned

Warnings: non-consensual drug use, discussion of additction

~~~

Hen is not a stranger to drugs. Growing up she’d see the dealers on the streets, even got shot in the crossfire of one of their wars. As a paramedic she saw the overdoses, the bad trips, the trips that went a little too right, as well as administered plenty of drugs. Not to mention her ex-relationship to a junkie.

No, Hen isn’t a stranger to drugs. Even took a few of her own in her wilder days, and got injured on the job badly enough to be prescribed them.

However, here is a huge difference between taking drugs knowingly and suddenly finding yourself high out in the field without any context to what’s happening or how it’s even happening.

She knows the whole 118 got lucky that they had primarily good trips, but it still nearly cost them Bobby’s life and the whole experience has her anxious as hell.

In the moment, she’d felt good, but now? Now she is terrified.

She can’t help but think of all the things that could’ve gone different, all the ways it could have gone wrong.

People were high behind the wheel over to the scene, an accident could’ve happened. They were high on the scene, someone could have gotten hurt because they didn’t do their job right. Not to mention what could have happened differently after.

Sure, that reporter might not have aired the trip they all had, but the upper brass still heard about it, it could’ve still gone out there. All their jobs and livelihoods were in danger. Hen could’ve lost everything she worked so hard for. And for what? Because someone wanted to prank them?

Hen doesn’t even want to think about what would have happened if someone had a bad reaction, either allergy wise or just to the hallucinations in general. What if someone had the genetics for a psychotic disorder and this triggered it?

As a paramedic and a mother, she knows how important it is not to mess with someone’s food. Or meds. Things can go so horribly wrong, so easily.

Not to mention how violated she feels.

After Eva, she swore never to do anything heavier than alcohol. She already wasn’t a drugs for fun kind of person, which only intensified after joining the LAFD. However, Eva had been the final drop for her.

She knows what drugs do to a person, both physically and mentally. She saw how easily Eva gave up Denny, who is the most precious person to her now. Along with Karen. She never – never – wanted to put him through anything like that again, even if it happened before he was born.

Hen is scared. Scared of getting addicted, no matter how low her chances of that happening. Addiction doesn’t run in her family and she doesn’t seek out the substances that could be addictive unless actively dying, which luckily rarely happens.

But whoever did this, forced her into a high without her permission and not only could that have resulted into an injury or death of someone else, it also could have led to her getting hurt or worse. It could have torn her family apart.

She might be overreacting. She can see the others laugh about it, tries to join in and write it off as a big joke, instead of something scary. But it still lingers. It’s still there.

If she has to guess, Bobby also found the whole thing a lot less funny than the others, but Bobby has a great professional facade and she won’t get him to crack unless she applies a whole lot of pressure. That isn’t something she wants to do.

The 118 has been through enough lately without her tugging at their main support beam. Bobby needs to be as strong as he can be. For all their sakes.

So, she toughs up, shakes it off and goes on. The trip was just another bad day. She has had bad days before, bad days worse than that one. She can join in with the others and write it off as something funny. Let it go.

Hen is strong. She keeps watch over everyone when the Captain is busy. She is their common sense when they’re all being dumbasses. She’s their Hen. And maybe they’d been as scared as she had been, maybe they need it to be a joke, so they can move on. She can see that.

And so she finds herself on that couch, sitting between the others without Bobby present, as they watch the rest of their spotlight on the TV and laughs about their trip. She keeps her what ifs to herself and just makes sure not to eat anything that is given to them. Someone has to make sure they have their head on right, and historically that has been her.

She knows drugs. She administers them every day. One thing that makes someone a good paramedic is observing, learning and reacting. So, if she studies up a little more on her hallucinogens, she doesn’t think anyone can blame her.

Everyone else might shake this whole thing off – and she can too, professionally – but this is not happening to her again. Not ever. Hen is going to be prepared, should there be a next time.

~~

A/N:

Maybe this is just me, because I am terrified of the lack of control drugs give, but that felt like such a violation and I can’t believe they just glossed over it, like wtf. They all got drugged! Wild this show istg (affectionate)

[crazylittlejester]

i personally don’t have any food allergies, but my younger sister does, and when she was younger they were a lot more severe so i always tried to make sure we knew where her allergy medicine and epi pen were when we first found out. it also sucked because she was the first of anyone in my family to have food allergies so it shocked and scared us pretty badly when she had her first allergic reaction.

anyway, i wanted to one, thank you for writing fics where wars had that anxiety over food so that others (like myself) can try and understand a bit better those with food anxiety!! and then two, because my love language is basically giving/making food to others, *throws as many oranges as possible towards you* i hope you feel better and that people stop being jerks to people with allergies!! (i’m glad you have someone like your friend’s mom who at least tries their best though!!)

I keep two epi pens on me always, and my best friend carries one as well, not because she has allergies but just because she said she’d feel more comfortable if she had one too since we spend so much time together, so I gave her one. That first allergic reaction is definitely absolutely terrifying for everyone involved, because oftentimes no one knows what’s happening and no one really thinks “Oh it’s an allergic reaction” because you’re either the one on the floor unable to breathe or you’re watching it happen to someone you love and it’s just awful because everyones is panicking

I really wish people were more aware of what allergic reactions look like and how to handle them/help, I feel like a lot of lives could be saved this way. I went to grade schools that treated allergies like a joke, because they just didn’t understand, and I think schools are getting better about it now from what I’ve heard, but I firmly believe that schools should teach kids about allergies to spread awareness. Especially because food allergies aren’t even an uncommon thing anymore???

A kid in my class junior year of high school had a severe allergic reaction and the teachers and adults all stood around not knowing what to do, and it was his best friends who gave him the epi pen, called 911, and handled everything. That group of 16/17 year old boys literally saved their friend’s life because they were taught what to do (by said friend with allergies), and that’s why I think it’s so important people learn what to do in situations like that. Like if you know how to give an epi pen, you literally know how to save someone’s life

And like I said last night, I think it’s kinda insane that after nineteen years of trying to explain to people what this kind of food anxiety feels like, all it ended up taking was a couple fanfictions about a guy who’s scared of being poisoned 😭 I’m really glad I finally found a way to get people I know and also internet strangers to get to a place where even if they’ll never understand exactly what it feels like, they can at least see the thought process and understand that way, but the WAY through which I finally accomplished this is hilarious to me.

Thanks LU Warriors for ur sacrifice king 😭

I am incredibly grateful for both my friend and her mom for everything they do for me, and also for every single person who tries their best to understand an experience they might not ever have. Again, it’s crazy that what it took was Zelda fanfiction to get people to see what it’s like, but hey, I’ll take it 🫶

[chaosincurate]

My month in music - August 2023

Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There (relisten)

Young Fathers - Heavy Heavy (relisten)

Mitski - Puberty 2

Mitski - Be the Cowboy

Japanese Breakfast - Soft Sounds from Another Planet (relisten)

Japanese Breakfast - Jubilee (relisten)

Kate Bush - The Dreaming

SZA - Ctrl

Squid - Bright Green Field (relisten)

Squid - O Monolith (relisten)

Black Country, New Road - For the First Time (not for the first time)

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven

Genesis Owusu - Struggler (new)

shame - Food For Worms (new)

IDLES - Joy as an Act of Resistance

IDLES - Brutalism

Blur - The Ballad of Darren (new)

Write-ups below

I'm gonna be honest, I'm way later to this than I'd like to be so I'm gonna try to just absolutely blitz through these so I can get onto a project that might end up taking a lot of work'

Black Country, New Road - Ants From Up There

Note to self: make a post dedicated to this album. It's musically meticulous and thematically compelling, and some of the lyrical work is truly crushing, like you are watching a man crumble slowly over the course of the album's hour-long runtime. It's an absolutely incredible work of art and would be one of my go-tos to demonstrate the unique potential of albums as a format.

With that last note in mind, I would of course recommend a back-to-back listen above all else, but if you must try a song first, I'd suggest the first proper song Chaos Space Marine

Young Fathers - Heavy Heavy

This is one of those warm albums that feel really communal and welcoming. It's got more angry moments - I Saw, for example has a war drum rhythm to it as the vocals on the verse are practically spat out - but for the most part, this is a very laid-back listen that captures an improvisational magic without the drawbacks that usually brings.

The previously mentioned I Saw is definitely my favourite from the album, but as I said, it doesn't exactly embody the album's best features. If you want a song that does that, try Geronimo. The song's lyrics tend to speak on the negative sides of life and the inevitability of it's end, but the music, along with some important glimmers within the lyrics, tell you that there is a beauty to even that.

Mitski - Puberty 2

I hear we're all gay here, so I imagine you all know that Mitski is good by now, but just to confirm, Mitski is good. I had heard Bury Me at Makeout Creek a while ago, and intended to listen to more after that, but the first song I heard outside that album was My Body's Made of Crushed Little Stars, which is a great song, but gave me the total wrong idea of this album. Yes, there is a little more experimentation than I remember being on BMAMC, but I was under the impression that it would be way more abrasive from that first impression, and that's great for 2 minutes, but over a whole album, that'd be a lot, at least for me.

I am glad that I eventually got around to this though, because it was a great album. I would have been particularly worse off never having heard Your Best American Girl. It's an excruciating story of a protagonist who is in love with someone who is of an untenably different culture to themselves, which leads to tension, embodied by parental disapproval. It's a great song delivered with buckets of emotion, particularly when the chorus hits.

Mitski - Be the Cowboy

Honestly, this one didn't hit as much for me, which given everything I heard surprised me. I found that most of these songs ended too quickly to make an impact, and I didn't see anything on the album scale to write home about either. She's still clearly demonstrating her talent, and it's still made up of good songs, but they just lacked the impact of her other two albums for me.

That being said, I did particularly enjoy Nobody. The contrast of the disco-leaning instrumental, along with the pretty bouncy vocal melody against the loneliness the lyrics speak about somehow enhance that feeling of it being out of reach. As if Mitski is being taunted by it. It's very effective.

Japanese Breakfast - Soft Sounds From Another Planet

I am just now noticing the colour theme of the albums I was listening to around this time. Something about orange and yellow spoke to me this month.

This album is incredible. It's the first true demonstration of what makes Japanese Breakfast such a great project for me. The album is broadly indie pop, but it's the form of indie pop that's special: Michelle Zauner carved a niche sound from materials of the more music nerd side of pop music with the tools of lo-fi and soundtracks. The pop music materials come simply from the quality of the production and somewhat normal song structure which come along with some slight experimentation here and there in regards to the sound of the album, that latter point bringing us to lo-fi, which also gives us that unique comfortable, cozy vibe that you hear with Japanese Breakfast, and then the soundtracks portion comes from her excellent ear for creating the ideal atmosphere for a given song's themes.

All the songs on this album, especially the first half, are amazing and pretty representative of the album's sound, but I really wanna focus on Machinist, a relatively experimental cut. It's a song about a lover not being as vulnerable with you as you'd like and that's great, as is the fact that it's conveyed through a story of a woman falling in love with a literal robot, but the instrumental really sells this. There is a constant battle between mechanical coldness and human warmth in the song best conveyed at the end where a sax solo is accompanied by a robotic synth and very faint, distant, robotic vocals. This woman is a genius.

If you'd like something a little more normal, Boyish is also very good. It's a pretty straightforward song about romantic insecurity. If the narrator and protagonist is reliable, their boyfriend is staring at a waitress instead of their date, who isn't buying his attempts at reassurance, and is desperate to feel equally as seen as the stranger he's enamored with. There's a little unreliability to the narration though, because the sentiment switches from spite to yearning often, from "if you go to her, don't expect to come home to me" to "I can't get you off my mind" (followed by the currently irrelevant, but very witty "I can't get you off in general", love that, 10/10, sad tho). That introduces a layer of personal interpretation though: is it a song about anxiety told through a wholly unreliable narrator or is it actually about your significant other not being especially sexually attracted to you? Both are very interesting, and both seem like valid interpretations to me.

Japanese Breakfast - Jubilee

I love this album so much I made a post about it earlier this month, and I'm pretty proud of it, so please check that out if you're interested in reading more than just "it good. It very good"

Kate Bush - The Dreaming

Don't ask me why this is my first Kate Bush album. I could've sworn I saw this on some list ahead of Hounds of Love or having a higher aggregated rating somewhere or something like that but I can't find it anywhere now that I'm looking for it. But anyway, this is a great album. It provided everything I expected from a Kate Bush album, the weirdness, the stylistically all-over-the-place vocals, the general theatricality... But it also took that style in different directions than I expected, such as with the menacing title track about colonialism.

The song I'd recommend would probably be the fairly expectation-aligned Sat In Your Lap though. Honestly, if you've heard a Kate Bush song before, you won't need a taster for the album at all, it's more of that, but if you need to be reassured of that, the opener is a great example of it.

SZA - Ctrl

I didn't get SOS, unfortunately, felt it was a little bloated, but maybe it's worth a revisit, because over an hour of this seems pretty great. SZA's writing is all incredibly authentic and personal, and her vocals drip sweetly over any instrumental tried here. You don't need another stranger on the internet to tell you that this is a must-listen R&B album, but here I am, yet another stranger on the internet calling this a must-listen album.

My favourite from the album is probably Drew Barrymore, a reverb-drenched song about a relationship that is ruined by jealousy and self-hatred on the part of the protagonist. This is my favourite example of vocal honey on this album, too. This, for me, encompasses all the album's strengths brilliantly.

Squid - Bright Green Field

Bright Green Field is arguably the clearest demonstration of Squid's unique sound. It balances the ideals of punk and funk excellently while adding in some kraut-rock and Radiohead-esque ideas too. I think I might prefer O Monolith personally, but this album is both very close in quality and absolutely crucial for the band.

I think if I were to recommend a song from this album, as much as I love Narrator, I imagine it'd be G.S.K. that best positions the album for enjoyment, at least for most people. It sets up a lot of the themes surrounding urbanization and the contrasting of modern life with the natural to demonstrate modernity's absurdity, and does so expertly, while also providing on the instrumental front with that funk-infused post-punk that makes the album so unique.

Squid - O Monolith

As I said in the previous write-up, this is my preferred Squid album. It leans on that Radiohead influence a little more, I think, which is why I'm glad they established their own sound with their debut first, but I think the sound here is just more to my tastes, and better suits their focus on this record, which is hard to pin down, but it feels more broadly mechanical than the previous outing, more rigid.

I think there are a few really good recommendations for songs from this album, but I'll stick with the critique on policing and generally violent power over others afforded to the otherwise powerless: The Blades. This is one of my favourite songs, period, let alone from Squid or off this album. The way it gets in the head of someone whose only access to power is through the violence of law enforcement, and demonstrates the urge to use that power in that environment is just superb. And it demonstrates it all while also criticizing the amount of power they are afforded and how that makes matters even worse. I love it.

Black Country, New Road - For the First Time

Welcome to the best new six-part post-punk debut album! I hear the Slint influence is a little heavy here, but for one, that doesn't really bother me, and two, I haven't heard Slint yet, so I wouldn't know. Regardless, this album is incredible at getting you into a sort of dark groove, and eventually, when the time is right, uprooting that groove and leaving you completely at a loss for what to expect. Even when you've heard the album many times over like I have, there's a part of you that can't keep up with the erratic shifts in the music within individual songs.

That incredible aspect of the album is best portrayed in the album's best track for me, Sunglasses. It touches on so many themes, which makes it hard to pin down exactly what the song is about, but it seems clearly about wealth and delusion in some way. For me, I think it's about the protagonist being seduced by the toxic comfort of wealth and delusion that wealth is earned and not happened upon randomly. It's a complex song though, and I'm sure there are plenty of valid interpretations. It is 9 minutes, but it's so good and dynamic that you are unlikely to feel all that time pass. Give it a listen if you like the sound of everything I've written here!

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven

I never really had a resonant experience with instrumental tracks, which really made me skeptical going into this album. I have had plenty of positive experiences with instrumentals, but they're always pretty analytical, I rarely actually feel anything all that strong when listening. Add on top of that the length of the songs, with each of the four tracks being around 20 minutes, and it was a bit of a long shot. That being said though, this did resonate with me. After a stressful day, I just laid back, put this album on and relaxed for an hour and a half and I felt the album eat the stress from inside of me like a growing black hole, sucking up negative emotion. It was so thoroughly uplifting that I couldn't possibly hope to analyze it. It's difficult to recommend the way I usually would, but if you love music, especially stuff in the alternative and indie orbit, I'd suggest giving this a listen when you have some time to kill, especially if you're stressed or otherwise burdened.

Genesis Owusu - STRUGGLER

From an album that is very happy within a small niche, to an album that could be engaged with on some level by anyone, STRUGGLER is a dance-informed neo-soul album (I guess) that really makes use of the medium by using and reusing metaphors from within it's borders to reinforce themes, and explore new elements of that metaphor that consider the already established subtext. It's all very clever concept album stuff, and I always respect when an artist commits to a concept like this, especially ones who can still make songs stand on their own outside of the context of the album. It's very impressive.

I'd probably say Tied Up! is the best shout for a song to try, it's exceptionally groovy and is probably the point in the album where I'd say it really finds it's groove, which is on the late side, so hearing that in advance could reassure you that the album does actually find it's feet eventually.

shame - Food For Worms

This album is a weird one just because it doesn't really stick to a sound all that much. It bounces very quickly between punky songs like Alibis to a softer alternative style in tracks like Adderall a lot and it makes it hard to settle in a way that I think makes the album listening experience worse than if it were, for example, two EPs of comparable style. Of course, stylistic diversity is often a plus, but it has to be done better than this.

The songs are all pretty great in isolation though, especially when it does get a little punkier, such as with the previously mention Alibis (my personal favourite), or the song I'd recommend, lead single Six-Pack. First things first, that guitar sound is absolutely phenomenal. It gives off an erratic feel, and one of a shifting, untrustworthy nature. And then there's that hyped up vocal performance that embodies frustration at the comfortable delusion characterized in the lyrics.

IDLES - Joy As an Act of Resistance

This was incredible. The name pretty much sums it up. It's a post-hardcore album that is very aggressive on the surface level, but will often have a heart of gold, such as with Danny Nedelko, a song that stands in defiant support of immigrants and immigration, named after the writer's friend originally from Ukraine.

The song I'd recommend is largely just aggressive, but still with a pretty warm thesis in the end, and that would be Never Fight a Man with a Perm, a song about pub violence and the silliness of the extreme macho personas on display in those environments.

IDLES - Brutalism

I didn't like this one as much as Joy, but there were still some definite highlights. For one, it is a lot more punk. This album is absolutely punk to the core, and doesn't share the optimism of my preferred album, which does provide a more cathartic experience.

My favourite is probably Stendhal Syndrome, an album about artistic philistines; the type of person to look at an artwork and judge it based solely on the technical ability on display and not the vision of the artist or the art's emotional impact. Plenty is already made of punk's political leanings, but very little is the subculture's love and passion for art at the forefront, and it's good to see that being focused on here.

Blur - The Ballad of Darren

Unfortunately I don't have much to say about this one. I was hopeful going into it because I did quite like St. Charles Square, but almost all of the album just bounced off me leaving no real impression. Maybe it's worth a revisit one day, because I did mostly respect it on an analytical album, but it didn't make me feel much at all. If you like indie rock, maybe it's worth a listen, I hope you like it more than I do.

[mochidom]

Parent Duty (2) (St. Fiore)

Masterpost here!

Unlike the sheer chaos  that was unfolding in other dorms, Malachi Mikazuchi’s move-in was…efficient.

“You know, most parents cry when they’re dropping them off their kid,” Malachi commented, watching as his mother placed the last of his folded clothes into the wardrobe. “You’re being really calm about this.”  

Kagura Mikazuchi looked over at him, confused. “Would you rather I make a scene?”  

Malachi shrugged. “No, I was just passing a comment..”  

It wasn’t that his mother was emotionless. Quite the opposite—Kagura was a woman with a lot of emotions, way too many if you asked Malachi but most of the time those feelings were buried under a poker face that had terrified half of Fiore.

Kagura pushed shut the door of the closet before turning back to her son. “This is the start of your next chapter. I expect you to carry yourself with discipline and strength.”  

“Of course.”  

“Don’t engage in unnecessary fights.”  They both knew he wouldn’t but she probably needed this speech more than him. His mother was very talkative when she was overwhelmed.

“I heard you.” he continued. “I promise I’ll be good.”  

She looked at him for a minute and ruffled his hair, smiling softly. “Then I suppose I will take my leave. Lock the door after me.”  

She already had a foot out of the door when she turned and walked back to him “ I know you dislike displays of affection but I love you, child.” And  she hugged him.

His mother had never been shy with praise and words of endearment but he could count on his hands the number of times they hugged after he turned 7 years old. He knew the reason behind that was his aversion to touch and he wondered for the first time if this was something she wished she could’ve done more. If she wished she could have adopted someone else who would let her take on the role of mother completely. He couldn’t change the past but he guessed he could make the future better.

He hugged her back. “I love you too, mom. I’ll miss you.”

She nodded and she left immediately, not letting him see her face. 

Yeah. She was definitely going to cry the whole way back home.

The Raml name was now synonymous with royalty. Or at least it was in Alvarez.

Here in Fiore, it might as well be synonymous with big piece of shit. Al Arra Raml had arrived in St. Fiore five hours ago and had gotten more side eyes and muttered insults thrown her way than she had in her entire life,

“Ugh, I can’t believe your father is sending us here for school.” Beau Myuh complained from her left, juggling with the luggage he had shrunk the size of. “Everyone apparently hates us here and the food is D-I-S-G-U-S-T-I-N-G.”  

Al Arra sighed, adjusting her mask while flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. She couldn’t say anything since she also didn’t know why her father, Ajeel Raml, the emperor of Alvarez would send his only daughter to school in the kingdom he was in a war against not so long ago. He did say something about relations between kingdoms, not that she was listening to him.

Brandish Myuh smacked her son behind the head. “ What did I say about shrinking clothes ? They’re going to be all wrinkled when they’re back to their normal size.”

“Was the smack necessary ?” he grumbled, though he still changed the luggage back to their original size.

“Auntie Bran, do we really have to stay here ? Is Alvarez Institute not good enough?”

“You know it is, sweetheart. I also don’t know why your father has decided to send you so far. “ She whined. “ And the fact that he sent me to this stinking territory to drop you off. Oh, he’s going to hear about it when I return. I mean if you hate your daughter, why do I have to do with that. Am I right ?”

She must’ve seen the look on Al's face since she made the world’s worst effort to be comforting. She went to sit down in the closet where Aran had taken residence since their arrival. “ I’m sure he has his reasons, my love.”

The effort lasted all of 30 seconds and Brandish Myuh was in the doorway, sunglasses on her nose. 

“Okay, I’m leaving now.” She announced. “ Beau, you steer clear of Lucy’s son, I don’t want his bad behaviour to leech on you.”

Al Arra thought about telling her that her son was the one with the bad behaviour but Brandish had already left.

“I hope you don’t like this dress.” Beau said, holding a shredded dress from the newly normal sized luggage.

“This is literally going to be the worst year ever..”  

[cruesuffix]

Ok ok so now that I'm back from war (fake nail jail) I yearn to write. So I am, because I have free will 😋

So with kitty!Mick I feel like dinner time would be hell. Like Sharon is cooking dinner, I'll say buttered noodles and chicken Parm (because that's what I'm having for lunch and I'm literally drooling thinking about it) and he's hovering around her, trying to hold her and just be around her, purring away because he loves her so much (he wants to steal some food before dinner is actually done)

Not only do I think he'd do this to Sharon but also to his bandmates. Wether it be Whitehorse or the crüe he will be stealing extra portions for himself!

Honestly I feel like although Mick has horrible eating habits, when he does eat or feels comfortable enough to get food he eats a lot, which also plays into getting some meat on his damn bones! (Chubby/healthy kitty my beloved!! But at the same time I feel like he'd get self conscious really quick once he realizes he's gaining weight, and feeling guilty he's eating so much and potentially snagging food from Sharon ☹️)

ok first of all, i love the idea that he’d continue his little habit of hovering around ppl while they cook!! like he does it with sharon cause he just loves being around her (and also so he can eat some of the food she’s making), but he does it with whitehorse because he simply can’t wait to eat. he’s always starving and it doesn’t help that he’s in such tight quarters with the band so he has no choice but to hang around jack or harry whenever they cook breakfast or something. and of course with the crue, he’s just surprised these kids can even cook without burning the house down. that… and he’s surprised by how good the food tastes. he can’t help but sneak in bites as he watches them cook breakfast and even dinner. even though these kids are dead broke and starving themselves, they still manage to scrounge up good meals.

he’s spent most of his life with terrible eating habits. he was never one to take seconds, and once he finds himself in poverty, tries not to eat a lot just so his family doesn’t starve. sometimes he still indulges a bit and he usually feels pretty guilty afterwards. not just cause he feels guilty for taking more than he needs but… also he gets self conscious about his body. you know… typical period accurate fatphobia. but this just leads to mick not entering a kitchen whenever someone’s making food and making sure he doesn’t load up his plate when it’s time to eat.

of course everyone around him notices it. sharon misses him just being around her (no matter how infuriating it was that he’d always get in her way sometimes), the guys from whitehorse would miss their lil kitty just following them around the kitchen asking questions and stealing meat from the boiling hot pot (and burning his hands), and if we add the crue to this context, they’d miss his big curious eyes staring up at them whenever they cooked something he’d never heard of (don’t ask mick to tell you what tommy’s greek dishes are made of. he doesn’t know, he just thinks they taste good).

i think they’d all just try to force him to come back and hang out in the kitchen… especially sharon who tries to convince him it’s not a problem that he does his little “taste testing” thing. they just like his company and try to remind him that any time any of them (his wife or his bandmates) go into the kitchen to cook something.

welcome back from the war kitty anon, i told you it would be worth the wait cause this was amazing as always <333 (also believe me… chubby/healthy kitty!mick is going to be my new fav thing cause i need a healthy little kitty in my mind. ok ok i’ll stop before i go a bit crazy!!)

[sassylady1103]

The Road to Charleston

It’s our third day on the road. What a trip it’s been! I’ve been too exhausted at night to write, but we’re in Charleston now, staying at the apartment Colleen wants to clean up and use as a base.

This trip has been amazing! I mean, it was dangerous in spots, but with Colleen, it felt like nothing. I had no idea what a warrior she was! I know she spent most of her time with Papa training in the gym, even more after he’d gone, but I just never knew what a fighter she’d become. She’s so sneaky with her silencer, the scorched and ferals we came across didn’t even know what hit them! I only had to use my shotgun a few times when there was a mob that caught on to her. I was in awe of my sister, and I know Papa would be so proud of her.

The morning we left was foggy, and it made the forests look soft and dreamy, and dampened the sounds we made. It felt like it was enveloping us in a hug. Colleen didn’t like it much, as it gave her less warning of enemy approach, but it burned off as the sun rose higher in the sky. It was a beautiful day for our trip otherwise.

I had only been to Morgantown, which is a little north of us. We headed south, so everything I saw was a new experience. Colleen was sure to point out points of interest, and I found a nice patch of blackberries that I made a mental note to come back to. We picked enough for each of us to enjoy as we traveled.

The next town over from us is a small grouping of houses, a hardware store and a Red Rocket station along the river. I didn’t see a sign remaining that told us the name. Maybe it never had one, as people there likely commuted to Morgantown or even Charleston before the war. There were a lot of scorched, but Colleen quickly dispatched them. I wanted to check out the hardware store to see if there was anything useful, but Colleen said she’d been in there previously and there wasn’t much left, so we pressed on.

We weren’t on the road much longer before we came to a small town called Helvetia. Colleen said we’d stay the night there, in the old hotel. According to the historical marker near the bridge over the river, the town was founded by German and Swiss immigrants who were craftsmen and artisans in 1869! I was amazed it was still standing. It is the cutest town with its German themed shops! Along with the hotel, there was a community hall that looked to be a meeting or dance hall, a church, a Honey Haus, Cheese Haus, post office and Freya’s Haus Restaurant. I especially loved the museum, where a few old Civil War costumes were still on display. I would guess because they were very delicate and almost falling apart from neglect they that were never looted. There was a dress that was long and had such a full skirt, with long sleeves and what looked like lace detailing at the neckline. We tried to imagine having to wear such a thing and how heavy it must weigh with all that fabric!

Colleen thinks there were settlers here until very recently, since this place looked to be abandoned recently. There was still dishes on the table and moldy food in the kitchen of the restaurant and some instruments left at the bandstand by the river. Most buildings looked as if someone had just stepped away. It was a mystery since this town seemed very suitable for a settlement.

We passed on the moldy food, but picked some Starlight berries and made a nice cobbler with dry goods at the restaurant. It was a very pleasant place to spend the evening watching the sun go down behind the mountain and hearing the river running under the bridge. That was until we heard the unmistakable sound of the scorched. “When you hear ‘Not Us’, assume they’re talking about you, and not in a welcoming way”, Colleen said as she reached for her rifle. She told me stay put in the restaurant, and I could hear some movement outside. Shortly, the movement stopped and Colleen was back. “It was just a few, but I’ll keep watch regardless tonight. Guess we solved the mystery of the missing townsfolk. I’m really glad we’re getting you vaccinated soon.” Colleen was grim when she said this. Those burned up, mindlessly wandering things were once people….people like us just trying to survive who caught an illness that affected their minds and bodies and changed them into monsters. I was glad I was getting vaccinated too.

The night was uneventful, and I woke early. Colleen was eager to get on the road again, so we had a little breakfast and packed up our gear. It was warmer than the day before and being on the road so close to the mountain meant fewer trees to shade us. As we got further from Helvetia, the landscape softened and we had some shade again. Still following the river, the road took us past an old water treatment plant. There were large tanks still full of rank water that we could smell long before we saw it. I was just wondering why no one had come along and drained the things when suddenly we heard a robotic voice saying things I couldn’t understand. Colleen told me to duck down and I followed her to a tree that could shield us from being seen from the plant.

“There’s Liberators inside the fence. I’m not sure if they can get out, but they’ll be able to shoot their lasers this far. We must have alerted them. They’re looking for us.” Colleen told me as we crouched behind the tree. She had her rifle at her side and I wondered if I should pull out my shotgun. Colleen waved me back. “They think it’s a false alarm now. We’re okay as long as we move slowly and quietly.” “Wait, you understand what they’re saying? It sounds like gibberish!” I whispered loudly to her. Colleen turned and winked at me. “It’s Chinese. Dad taught me years ago. I’m rusty, but I remember enough.” “Hold on, Papa knew Chinese? Why?” I was shocked. How did I never know this? “All the military officers had to learn. Remember there was a war in Dad’s time and the threat of more Chinese attacks on America. Which obviously happened, but I guess knowing Chinese wasn’t real helpful, was it?” She smiled sardonically, and I just nodded. I was reminded how little I must know of the family I spent everyday of my life with in a two room suite in Vault 76. No wonder Colleen still considered me a naive child.

Colleen started moving along the tree line, crouched low and moving slowly, watching where she stepped. She motioned me to follow. We did this until we were clear of the plant. I was glad when she said we were out of danger, because my back was starting to ache from the awkward crouching. We walked in silence, me lost in thought as I wondered what else I’d learn about my parents and sister, and Colleen keeping watch for danger.

As the sun was getting low in the sky and our shadows were lengthening beside us, we saw another town coming into view. Colleen said it was Summerville, and that we’d stop here for the night. “There’s Blood Eagles in town, and I’d rather not try to get around them in the dark. They are the nastiest of the Raider groups I’ve come across.” There were houses on both sides of the river in Summerville. Some were boarded up, but some were open, again as if someone had just stepped out of them. “Are there Scorched here, too?” I asked her. Colleen shook her head. “I’ve never seen them here, but there’s some wicked overgrown crabs down near the riverbed. We should be fine if we stay near the road. Here, I’ve stayed in this house a couple times. It should still be safe.” Colleen led the way to a smallish house on the edge of town. Inside was a living room and kitchen area, with bedrooms upstairs, like any other house. What made my mouth drop was that every shelf, surface and stair had piles of books on them. Books were everywhere.

“Colleen, why did you never tell me there was a library outside the Vault?” I was grabbing titles and scanning pages. “It’s not a library, really, just someone’s collection. Someone who really loved books, I guess.” She said as she picked one up, glanced at the title and set it down again. “Hey, Col, how about I keep watch tonight and you get some rest?” I offered, keeping my eyes on the pages of the book I held. “Well, just make sure you don’t get so involved in those books that you aren’t listening outside. It should be safe enough though, so call me if you need me. I’ll be upstairs. Have fun with this mess.” She shook her head as she climbed the stairs. I found a lantern, lit it and curled up on the ratty couch. I flipped through some books on the coffee table, choosing one. I was just finishing the last chapter when I heard Colleen coming down the stairs. “Okay, bookworm, we need to get going soon.” Colleen said as she was opening cabinet doors in the kitchen, hoping to find some coffee or tea. “Sure, I’m almost finished with this one, but I want to grab a few to take with me.” I said as I hastily finished the last paragraph. I started selecting books I wanted to take with me. “Whoa, remember you have to carry those to Charleston, then home again, and they’re going to get really heavy after awhile.” Colleen had a point. I had a stack. I tried to narrow it to just three books. In the end I chose four. “I know, I’ll regret this later.” I grinned at Colleen. She shook her head. “Here, give me the food. I guess I can help lighten your load some.”

We left the house and walked along the river for a bit, then Colleen cut through the houses to the river and we climbed down the rocky slope to cross to the other side hopping on some large rocks. “The crab things are more upstream. Crossing the river avoids downtown, where the Blood Eagles hang out.” Colleen explained. We climbed up the other side, which was made more awkward by my heavy backpack, but it got easier once we were back on pavement. “This road goes into Charleston, along what used to be Summerville lake.” Colleen pointed ahead. “Used to be? Did you rename it?” I teased. Colleen just shrugged. “I’ll let you decide.”

The sun was shining directly down on us and my backpack was starting to dig into my shoulders. Soon, I saw what Colleen must have been talking about. Summerville lake was a field of dried, cracked mud. “Wow, did the lake just evaporate?” I asked. Colleen answered, “It was drained. Apparently the lake was formed when a dam was built closer to Charleston. This area flooded and became the lake. Apparently there was a town that was under water until the lake drained. Now it’s overrun with Super Mutants.” Colleen stopped at what was probably the bank of the lake. We looked out over the vast lake of mud. If was the closest thing I’d seen to a wasteland since we left the Vault. “Come on, we’ll keep on the road. That lakebed is too open.” Colleen started down the road that formed to the right away from downtown Summerville. “We should be at the apartment this afternoon if we don’t run into any issues.”

We continued down the road, past some old vacation cabins that must have been nice when the lake was there. Then we passed some docks and boat houses that extended out over nothing now that the lake was gone. There were some Scorched wandering about, but they didn’t notice us up on the road. Coming around a bend, I saw what looked to be a broken dam. “Oh, Col! Do you think that dam just failed from age or lack of upkeep?” Colleen stopped, looking over the ruined dam. “No, it was destroyed by Raiders. Nuked it. Some act of revenge for the capture and killing of the leader’s girlfriend.” I stared at her. “But all those people….How do you know all this?” Colleen just shrugged. “Lot of terminals and holotapes out there with bits of the story. You can fill in the blanks pretty well by looking at the mess in Charleston. Come on, we’ll be there soon.”

Colleen got us to her apartment without running into any locals. She’s learned the routes to take that will avoid those areas. I’m excited to check the big city out! The capital building is stunning, even after all this time. I’d seen pictures of the famous gold dome, but seeing it shining in the late afternoon light was surreal.

The apartment is more like a penthouse on the rooftop of a stately brick building that housed some businesses and a cafe. It’s a lot of glass, and in amazingly good shape. It’s just a one bedroom loft, and already furnished. We were both so tired when we got in, that we just crashed for the night. We decided to take the day to rest before heading to AVR medical center for my vaccine.

It’s been a nice lazy day with time to write and record our journey. I’m almost overwhelmed by everything I’ve seen the last few days. It’s a big world out there for this Vault kid, and it’s been amazing!

More soon,

Mags

[tiressian]

Everyone who's ever gone to drinks with Shoko knows it takes a lot for her to get plastered. Tonight, Satoru notes that not only is there a sudden concerted effort on her part, but that it started the minute she returned from the bathroom. Part of him wonders if it’s work-related. The other, deathly afraid of vulnerability part of him wonders if he's gone too far with the innuendos, if he's toed right over the line into being a creep. 

He doesn't get a chance to pry. Between long swigs of spirits, Shoko's also shovelling down food like she's auditioning to be the next Kirby. You'd think she's never had a meal in her life at the speed at which she scarfs it all down, tiny bits of dipping sauce splashing onto the corners of her mouth as she eats her way through the table. It's disgusting and so not like Shoko: she’s usually so reserved, usually takes little dainty bites, 'chews like she has a secret,' as the saying goes—but today she’s fired up about who knows what and it is a sight to behold. Anomalies have always fascinated Satoru and he's as content to watch this one play out without interfering as much as he's curious about determining the root cause.

Like watchin’ a test dummy drive a car into a wall, a car crash in slow motion.

…a really messy, really nice, really caring car crash, who cares way too much about other cars to her own detriment, Satoru thinks, planting his chin in his fist and smiling. 

When said car crash turns her deadpan gaze to the tray of chicken skewers in front of him, he happily relinquishes it, sliding it right over with a gentle nudge of Red. Another whiskey sour follows when she struggles to reach it and he watches her clean off a skewer before using it to pick her teeth afterwards. He hates her drinking habits, but it's the closest thing she has to a happy place and knowing that there aren't enough of those in their line of work makes it harder to begrudge her for it. Her liver’s probably indestructible with that reversed cursed healing, anyway.

“Sheesh, Doc, save some for the rest of us,” Satoru teases. Shoko’s only response is to continue on as if she hasn’t heard him. Satoru laughs and signals one of the servers over, inwardly heaving a sigh. 

This is the hell he's been living in for the past five months. 

… 

He tells himself it's months because admitting that he came to terms a lot earlier—ergo: wallowed in realisation a lot longer is—not sad, per se, but embarrassing. Maybe a little pathetic. He’s the Six Eyes: he’s the last person who should ever be caught off guard by sudden changes in the playing field; he’s supposed to see them coming. 

Not to mention he once bragged about being omniscient one time, but that’s a secret between him and a dead man.

… 

So, this thing, what it is, that he’s started. It's attention that’s veered into obsession, really, a thought experiment gone awry.

They’re at war. There isn't any moment that Satoru's awake that he's not thinking about war. Not so much the fighting, though he does think about fighting a fair amount; the fact that war may be the only connective tissue between him and Shoko. Outside of that, they don't really talk, don't really hang—not to the level that he and Suguru used to. It’s all business: little soldier boy, little soldier girl, lining up behind their predecessors for their turn in the bloody centrifuge. It’s war, in all its revolving tornado of grief and zero catharses that jujutsu sorcerers are destined to have their lives swept up in until they die. It occurs to him that he never talks to her unless it's dire, unless it’s about someone they knew who died and she never seems like she's being put out when she helps him out. 

… 

So. He's thinking about the war when it happens. 

It’s Sunday evening, the last day of summer and thinking about war will keep him from thinking about the heat. He’s in his head about whether he’d die old or on the battlefield, whether he’d die alone or surrounded by friends, not just allies. He taps deep enough, and thinks hard enough that the power of the Six Eyes stirs, rushes to calculate an answer, and he finds himself perceiving an entire reality free of curses. Not a hypothetical, theoretical imagining; a real-life parallel verse where cursed energy does not exist. 

It’s a window between worlds and he’s on the outside looking in. There's a barrier he feels brushing up against his fingertips, like invisible silicone that hardens and starts to turn opaque at the slightest application of pressure. The first time he discovers this world, he eases off on the barrier and just observes. ‘Learn the rules before you break them,’ as his motto goes. 

He sees Other!Him first. Not to toot his own horn, but Other!Him is a real stand-up guy. He's still a teacher minus the prestige of a family name, but he doesn’t let it stop him from railing against bureaucracy, or making as many meaningful connections in service of that goal as he does enemies. He’s the guy with over a thousand friends on whatever social media app he has an account on, sheesh, he’s even got a LinkedIn. Outside of teaching, Other!Him spends his time protesting something or canvassing people on the street, getting them to sign his petition. He’s even got his students doing the same. He knows he's attractive and he uses that to draw people in. Hey if it works, it works.

Other!Geto is also there, very much alive and supportive—albeit in that same sanctimonious way that is just classic Geto, who accuses Other!Him of being a cult leader, taking advantage of the hero worship these kids have to get ahead. Other!Geto’s still got that relentless work ethic, channelling it towards studying under a Michelin-star chef to become one of the greats. He smiles in this curseless world like there's joy to be tasted in the air. It’s the kind of infectious happiness that has Satoru contemplating replacing Other!Him on one of their Okinawa trips because they look like they get up to a lot of fun.

All in all, it's satisfying and cathartic to see Suguru smile, to know there exists a world where he can be truly happy in. Satoru's tempted to pack it up and call it a day—

—and then he sees Other!Shoko. 

He wasn't even thinking about her, honestly, the barrier simply rippled while Other!Him and Other!Geto were planning this year’s trip to Okinawa, and suddenly Satoru's in a different part of Tokyo, watching some woman lock her apartment door.

When she turns, he clicks that it's Shoko he's staring at, and comparing her to the Shoko he does know is a new way of seeing her. The way Other!Shoko carries herself isn’t so resigned, like there’s an invisible leash dragging her this way and that. She strides resolutely right through him with her chin raised, strong. Her mole is on the wrong side. She wears crisp silk blouses tucked into cute A-line skirts. Her heels click against the pavement in a different rhythm to Shoko, faster, more upbeat and purposeful, her handbag bumping against her hip as she hurries to catch her train. She’s a paediatrician working in a family clinic, and the kids love her deadpan humour. The kids’ parents, not so much, but it’s the only place where they sit still and listen because they won’t get a lollipop if they don’t, so they keep coming. 

The shape of this Shoko’s soul is lighter; as light as any soul can be without the weight of their friends' deaths sitting on her conscience. She smiles and she laughs—in a way that is almost alien to Satoru—and she wears her hair long and loose, kinda wavy at the ends, soft in a way that invites one to touch. That’s the thing about this Shoko. She looks soft. She wears the same shade of lipstick that the Shoko he knows does, but that, coupled with the deadpan humour are the only swatches of familiarity he sees. 

The Shoko Satoru knows is tempered steel, layers of resilience folded over and over, giving nothing away. If there is softness, it’s jealously guarded behind a polite smile reinforced by professionalism. If there was softness, it's because curses have surely eroded it to near non-existence. Nothing good lasts in their world—it exists, sure, but never for long. 

Satoru observes Other!Shoko go about her day, waiting to see how she fits in with Other!Him and Other!Geto. He watches her walk up to them, only to mutter an 'excuse me' so they can move out of her way. Other!Him doesn’t miss a beat as he shuffles aside, still talking logistics with Other!Geto. Satoru scratches his head as he processes. Other!Shoko is not a factor, barely even a presence in Other!Him and Other!Geto's lives, doesn’t know them; never even met them.

Other!Shoko’s alone, but happy in a way that Satoru’s never seen the Shoko he knows to be, never known her to be capable of, to be frank. 

And it gets him wondering if the reason behind her happiness is out of a lack of curses, or a lack of him. With Suguru, it's pretty clear what that distinction was.

… 

And now for a little research. 

He catches Shoko right as she’s returning from her morning break en route to the Morgue, half-drunk coffee in hand while she checks her phone in the other. He has to blast a gentle Red her way to get her attention because her earphones are in. Just enough that she feels the gust in her face.

“Yes?” Shoko asks, taking out one earphone and peering up at him. Her fringe is dishevelled but she doesn't move to smooth it down.

Sheesh, Satoru thinks, wincing. Having observed Other!Shoko for so long, the dark circles on this Shoko are a glaring contrast. He almost feels bad for stealing some of her sleeping time. He should think up another time to do this. 

“Yo. You free tonight?” he asks instead. 

“Post-mortem?”

“Nah.” Shoko’s eyebrows raise a little at that, so he elaborates: “Been meanin’ to thank ya for Yuji. Heard the higher-ups weren't too uh…"

"They weren't." 

"How bad?"

“Back-to-back night shifts for the next month and a half."

"Shit."

"Also cut my pay."

“Son of a bitch.”

Shoko just yawns. “Did they cut yours?"

“Got halved when Yuta joined us. Yuji pushed them to take the rest, so I'm basically volunteering at this point.”

“Mm. Not like you need the money,” Shoko says, swirling her coffee idly. Satoru shrugs. “I think I would’ve ended up rostered regardless.” 

“Why? They pickin' on ya coz of me?” 

“Ken retired.”

That’s neither a ‘yes’ nor a ‘no’, but he can see her eyes darting to the rest of the path to the Morgue over his shoulder. 

"Right. Shit, about time, what is he like, five billion years old, give or take?"

Shoko's mouth tugs. “Eighty-two,” she replies. “I really have to get going. What did you have in mind for tonight?”

“Nothin’ big, just dinner n' drinks. My shout. You can choose the place."

“Is anyone else coming?"

Satoru counts off his fingers. "Hmm. You, me... Ijichi, maybe Nanamin if he’s not doing OT. Oh, and Yuki’s in town, so we might see her. Or we might not. She read my text and didn’t do anything with it after that.”

“Probably busy.”

“Probably. Anyway, yeah. We'll get together, chill out, shoot the shit, decompress, eat some good food.”

Shoko nods. “Count me in then.”

“Awesome, text me the deets ya cool cat. I’ll let the others know.” 

Shoko tucks her earphone back into her ear and walks off without a backward glance, eerily reminiscent of Other!Shoko brushing past Other!Him and Other!Geto and for some inexplicable reason it rankles.

… 

Ijichi and Yuki are no-shows. (He’s pretty sure he heard Yuki’s Harley speeding past outside, though.) Nanami joins them for dinner, and Shoko drinks him under the table. Satoru snaps a picture of the sleeping Nanami to tease him about later while Shoko nibbles on a chicken wing, silently judging him for it.

“Soo,” Satoru drawls, turning his attention back to her. He picks up a yakitori skewer and chews, studying her expression. It’s really hard not to think about Other!Shoko, the vibrant contrast between the two. Other!Shoko can get it. This Shoko…looks too tired to contemplate getting it. 

“Mm,” Shoko says. No intonation, whatsoever. She replaces her empty chicken wing for a fresh one and bites into it while Satoru tops up her beer with Nanami's. "Thanks."

"No prob. So listen. If we lived in a world with no curses…”

“A thought experiment?”

“Sure. You think you’d ever leave home for Tokyo?”

It is disconcerting how lucid Shoko’s gaze is, boring a hole right through his blindfolds. You wouldn't guess that she's had seven beers and counting. Satoru’s chewing slows and he swallows. Out of nervousness or necessity, he can’t tell in that moment. 

“Yes.”

And she says it so decisively. “Why?”

“There's no work back home.” 

Satoru stares at her, dismayed. “I can’t believe you still think about ‘work.’ It's another universe, Shoko. You can do whatever you want.”

“Well you didn’t say that I won the lottery. No work, no eat,” Shoko says. 

"Do you think we'd meet in that other world?"

Shoko chews for a bit as she mulls it over. "Not unless we work together, I don't think."

Satoru's mind instantly flashes to Other!Shoko brushing past Other!Him and Suguru. "Why do you say that?"

"The only reason we even know each other is because of work. So it wouldn't make sense for us to, right?"

"You don't think we'd work together?"

Shoko puts down her empty wing and cleans her hands with a wipe before picking up her chopsticks. Satoru watches her study the plates of food still remaining, opting for a potato croquette.

"Definitely not," she says eventually.

"What makes you think that?”

“Well, if I have to think about another universe I’ve got to have a basis for comparison, right?”

“Right.”

“So our world is dangerous and that other world is ‘less’ dangerous, right?”

Satoru immediately doesn’t like where this is going but he nods.

“Yeah, it’s still a ‘no’.”

Having worked at the school for so long with her—sure they aren’t thick as thieves, but that doesn’t make it feel less than a bucket of ice water to the face. 

“Why ‘no’? Sick of me already?” 

"I could never be sick of you, Gojo—"

Satoru touches his heart and shuffles on his knees to hug her, arms stretched out wide. "Aww, you're so sweet, that means so—"

"Being 'sick' would imply an overabundance of you, which isn't the case, is it?" Shoko finishes, and Satoru overbalances, falling onto his side on the tatami. Shoko snorts but when he glances back, her expression has regressed back to its impassive state. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was doing everything in her power to avoid smiling at him.

He straightens, pouting. "That's mean. You're mean," he declares while Shoko drinks. "I can't believe I'm paying for you to eat and be mean."

“And drink,” Shoko adds.

“And drink.” 

"I suppose listening to the truth can come across as 'mean' if you're not used to it."

"I hear the 'truth' all the time I'll have you know." I just elect to—

"Hearing's not the same as listening."

Drat. Perceptive as ever. Satoru sees her eyeing the plate of gyoza and deliberately empties all of it into his mouth, munching vengefully. Shoko makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle, but he can’t see her face because she’s turned away to wave down a server. 

… 

He walks Shoko to her room after they drop off Nanami. He steals a box of truffles from Nanami’s fancy apartment as compensation and munches on them while he and Shoko make their way through the corridors. When they reach her door she pauses after turning her key in the lock.

“I try not to think about it,” she says, quietly. There’s a vulnerability in her voice that he’s not used to hearing, clearly brought to the surface by the alcohol swimming in her bloodstream. She doesn’t look at him. 

Satoru quickly swallows the two truffles he’d stuffed in his mouth. Nothing says ‘I don’t care’ like talking with your mouth full.

“Think about what?” 

Shoko’s fingers close over her door handle, knuckles crackling as she squeezes. “About being stuck here.”

“Stuck?” He tilts his head. “Watcha mean ‘stuck’?”

“I’m here and not ‘out there’ because I’d be dead otherwise. But you…you’re here because you choose to be. So I think… in a world where I have a choice, that’s a world where our paths don’t cross. I can’t see you willingly working where I’d choose to work. I’d have a boring 9 to 5, one of those office jobs. That’s anathema to you.” Shoko finally glances over her shoulder at him, both her eyes glassy. She yawns hugely and Satoru gets a strong whiff of alcohol in his face, but he barely registers it, barely even registers her saying ‘good night’ before she closes the door on him. 

“Hmph,” Satoru says, tossing another truffle in his mouth and chewing determinedly. “Wanna bet?”

This is how it starts. 

… 

It takes some finagling but Satoru manages to figure out a way around the barrier…ish. He can't gain a steady foothold in the other world, because his body starts glitching out the moment his presence is registered, white blood cells swarming to the site of infection. He manages a maximum of two seconds before the blistering migraine starts and he has to tap out. Oh well. Two seconds is more than ample time to exert some influence.

Other!Shoko and Other!Him catch the same train, so that's the starting point. In the downtimes between exorcisms and training the First Years, he meditates on the Other-Verse, lies in wait for the right time to pounce. It’s easier for Satoru to shadow Other!Him, than Other!Shoko; this reality seems to have a lag in distinguishing local from intruder.

… 

   Gojo is slumped over on both arms and groaning when Geto takes his seat across from him at their usual table by the windows, every bit the wilted flower. Outside, the hustle and bustle that is the lifeblood of Tokyo flows on, people talking on their phones or to each other as they cross the streets, passersby and tourists squinting through the café windows as they go.

   “You, look like hammered shit,” Geto declares. A girl arrives and sets their coffees down, including a chocolate croissant on the house. Geto briefly glances up to thank her and waves to the café owner behind the counter before he starts poking Gojo’s arm. “Yo. What happened?”

   “Fuckin’ head hurts.”

   “Finally picked up the bottle?” Gojo peeks up at Geto, deadpan. Geto holds up his hands. “Hey, just checking. Invite would’ve been nice.”

   “Didn’t drink,” Gojo says, pushing himself upright and picking up his coffee. “Still don’t. But I think I’m going insane.”

   “Insane?” Geto repeats, sipping his coffee. He pushes the croissant over to Gojo. “Insane how? You getting pressure from the board again?”

   “No more pressure than I’m used to. It’s more like…when you think,” Gojo says, “do you hear yourself saying the words in your head or is it just information?”

   “Second option.”

   “Yeah, that was me too. I don’t usually narrate every part of my life. But now, all of a sudden I’m hearing things in my head.”

   “So like intrusive thoughts?”

   “No. Those would make sense at least. I’m hearing me. But it’s not me. Fuck, I think I’m being haunted. Think I did some bad juju in a past life.”

   “Yeah…” Geto says slowly. “What kinds of things you hearing?”

   “Fuckin’ weird shit. ‘Idiot, you got on too soon!’ ‘Try again tomorrow.’ ‘Two seconds, two seconds.’ ‘There! Look!’ ‘What are ya, blind?’”

   “What the hell,” Geto says flatly. “Is that a constant thing? When did that start?”

   “Couple ‘a weeks ago. Seemed to only happen after work, when I’m walking to the station. Thought I was half asleep the first time. And there’s this name I keep hearin’:’Shoko, Shoko, Shoko!’  Over and over. It gets so loud and then suddenly it’s quiet again, and I can go about my day.” Gojo takes a bite out of the croissant and chews, his grumpy expression changing to curiosity as he studies the pastry. “Shit, that’s a good croissant. Want some?”

   “Nah. So who’s Shoko?” Geto’s eyebrows wag up and down. He nudges Satoru’s shoe under the table. “Ooh, hot co-worker? You dog, holding out on me.”

   “No clue. There’s no Shoko’s at the school.”

   “One night stand?”

   Gojo gives him a blank look.

   “Well shit,” Geto says. “You should see someone about that. I know a guy you can talk to.”

   “I’m already talking to a guy. Why do you think I called you here?” Gojo says.

   Geto heaves a sigh, shedding his jacket. 

… 

Satoru grins as Shoko comes to a stop before him at the bench, patting down her fringe. He’d been a bit enthusiastic with Red, admittedly, but Shoko seems to roll with it. He wonders if she has a threshold before she starts getting annoyed. One experiment at a time, he decides.

“Yo! Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” He greets, tipping an imaginary hat.

Shoko doesn’t sit, nor does her expression change, continuing to stare blankly at him. “What do you want?”

“Juuust makin’ sure you’re comin’ tonight.”

“First Years finally realise how uncool you are?”

Satoru’s grin doesn’t falter at the jibe. “No, they still love me. And, not that it matters, but I’ve transcended ‘cool.’”

“Uh-huh.”

“Although,” Satoru muses, tapping his chin, “it has been strongly hinted that I should hang out with people my own age.”

“Hmm, no, I believe Nanami was explicit in the group chat. ‘Child is as child does’ is what he said,” Shoko says and Satoru bristles.

“Well, whatever, I’ve decided to make it a weekly thing since he’s soo concerned. So. You’re coming right? We need a referee.”

“Could’ve just texted.”

“And miss out on the sunshine? This bench is hot property this time of year! Practically ran here to beat the rush.”

Shoko turns on her heel and starts walking.

“That’s not a ‘no’!” Satoru calls, grinning at her back. His watch beeps and he straightens up on the bench, crossing his legs. He takes a deep breath and focuses, preparing to take the leap.

Showtime.

… 

   Look!

   It’s a little after 7 p.m. Gojo’s head is splitting as he staggers into the train car, barely capable of taking in his surroundings. He bumps into someone, and mutters an apology through gritted teeth as lightning crackles between his eyes, gripping the overhead hand strap like a lifeline. 

   Look!

   Look!

   “Fuck off,” Gojo mutters, even as someone’s hand closes over his arm. He tries to shake them off. “Fuck off, you’re not real, you’re not real. Fuckin’ losing’ it.”

   Shoko! Shoko! Fuckin’ idiot, look!

   “Shut up! Shut the fuck—”

   “Gojo?” An unfamiliar voice asks tentatively.

   Gojo glances up, and the pain dissipates the moment his eyes meet and fall into a sea of warm brown. “Shoko?” 

   The woman’s eyes widen. That’s as confirmation as any but Gojo isn’t sure if he should feel relief or dread, because if this is all some horrible hallucination—

   The train comes to a stop.

   The woman loses balance, stumbling forward from the weight of the crowd crush pushing her from behind. Gojo has enough brain cells to open his arms in time to catch her as she goes face-first into his chest, relief washing over him at how solid the body in his arms feels. She smells like Christmas in a bottle: cinnamon and cardamom wafting in the air around him—two distinct spices he’s come to know from watching Geto work. He helps her upright again, giving her his hand strap while he shifts slightly back to hang on to a different one.

   They study each other. It’s weird; he’s never seen this woman before in his life, yet an inexplicable familiarity exists about her that puts him at ease. He has a feeling she’s thinking the same thing. Her phone rings, but she doesn’t immediately move to answer.

   “Thanks,” she says.

   “No problem.”

   “So this is going to sound insane…” she hesitates, and Gojo’s sure it’s probably because he’s smiling a little too widely. “Actually, no, it’s stupid—”

   “Try me.”

   “Could I see your ID?”

   “Only if I can see yours.”

   She produces a hospital ID attached to a lanyard while Gojo retrieves his work ID from the inside of his blazer pocket. 

   “Well shit,” Gojo says after the exchange. She really is Shoko. Doctor Shoko. And they’re the same age, a literal month apart.

   “You’re a teacher,” Shoko says, handing his ID back. She looks pleased by it and something about that makes his ego swell. Gojo suddenly finds himself observing her a little more closely.

   Come to think of it, she’s actually…kinda…

   Gojo clears his throat, scattering that thought. It’s an observation, not even close to a compliment. Sheesh, get some standards my guy. 

   “Ah. Yeah. I am,” he says. “So how…”

   “I heard you calling my name. In my head. But we’ve never met before…so how would you even know…it’s insane.”

   “I’d say more strange than insane since I’ve heard your name in my head too.” The real insanity is that the voice is his, but no need to tell her that, Gojo thinks. “I think some strangeness is good—every once in a while. Makes life interestin.’”

   “But you know, I think I’ve seen you before,” Shoko says. Gojo’s eyebrows raise and she rolls her eyes. “That wasn’t a line. I meant outside the station with a clipboard?”

   “Ah! Yeah, I got this petition goin’. Tryna put an end to all these stupid compulsory after-school clubs. Kids barely have enough time to do their homework, let alone sleep. It’s like we can’t wait to put them to work!”

   “Oh, hard agree. Always hated those. Where do I sign?”

   Gojo beams.

… 

Shoko and Ijichi present a united front at that night’s catch-up, eyeing Satoru warily.

“What are you so smug about?” Shoko says while Ijichi tops up her glass of beer.

“It’s unsettling,” Ijichi agrees. “I think I’m about to get extra paperwork.”

Satoru grins at both of them through a mouthful of sashimi. “Relax, nothing’s happened, just havin’ a great week is all. You guys should try it.”

Shoko and Ijichi exchange glances.

“What?” Satoru says.

“Didn’t you have a meeting with the higher-ups?” Shoko asks.

“Ah, that was this afternoon.”

“And?” Ijichi gestures.

“Oh, it sucked. My week’s still intact though.” Satoru grins at their befuddled expressions and clinks his mocktail against Shoko’s beer. “Why the long faces? Eat up! Life’s good!”

And more importantly, I win, Satoru thinks, inwardly smirking as he watches Shoko drink.

…

Satoru leaves Ijichi curled up on his side on his couch and meets Shoko outside in the hallway, leaning against a wall with her eyes closed.

“You drunk, Ieiri?” He teases, walking up to her.

“No, but I think I ate too much,” she says, opening her eyes.

They walk in silence to her room. Satoru’s lost track of all the times he’s done it since the first catch-up. Adjusting to her much slower pace and shorter strides used to bug the hell out of him in the beginning. Now it feels almost meditative, being in quiet companionable silence together.

“Did they extend Yuuji’s sentence?” Shoko asks.

“No, why?”

“I was wondering why you were in a really good mood tonight.”

Satoru nudges her arm. “You remember that thought experiment we were talking about? Where if we were in a different world and you said we wouldn’t know each other unless it was for work?”

Shoko is quiet before she hums in affirmation. “I still stand by that.”

“Well what if I told you I saw that universe with my own two eyes?”

“I’d say I believe you did. What of it?”

“What if I told you that you were dead wrong?”

Shoko looks at him cynically. “Then I’d say that I’m only wrong because you found some way to make it so that I was.”

Damn it she’s on to me, Satoru thinks, both impressed and aghast. He nudges her again. “You’re still wrooong though.”

“So you did interfere,” Shoko says. “Aren’t you worried your interference could mess up the natural order of things in that world?”

Satoru’s smile thins. Shoko has a ghost of one on her face. The rest of their walk is swallowed up in silence as he cycles through the stages of grief—mostly between denial and bargaining, admittedly.

Shoko nudges him and he glances up from where his gaze has been boring a hole into the ground. Her door is unlocked, and if she isn’t drunk she has to be a little tipsy because she seems more concerned with consoling him, patting his arm like one would a disturbed child.

“Always one to ask if he ‘could’, but never if he ’should’,” she says with a soft chuckle.

“Hmph!” is Satoru’s best comeback to that. “Eh, I’m sure it’s fine; there’s no such thing as ‘world-ending friendships' anyway.’”

“As far as you know. I look forward to being wrong,” Shoko says.

She closes her door on him to make sure she gets the last word.

Cheeky.

He likes that.

to my cherished (inevitable downfall) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/48099712/chapters/121287535

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing: Satoru x Shoko Rating : T (may change later) Chapters: 1/3 Tags: Alternate Universes, Friends to Lovers, Other tags to be added

Summary:

In which Satoru fucks around, finds out, and is fervently glad he did. Alternatively; to my significant (b)other told from Satoru's POV

[thesquishcloud]

GhostSoap HCs because Im procrastinating :)

Ghost:

-Autism -stims mostly with his hands; loves fidget toys and anything with a bumpy/rough texture -hums a lot also -loves routines, but is ok going without them considering his lifestyle -religiously cleans/takes care of his guns though, and gets paranoid about them malfunctioning if he doesnt -safe food is bacon and eggs -Disassociates a lot; ends up death staring at people by accident and gives people nightmares -has nightmares -talks in his sleep, but only giberish -gets unreasonably happy when someone tells him a good (terrible) joke he hadn’t heard before -will go nonverbal from extreme emotions (too much anger, sadness, happiness, etc)

Soap:

-has a notoriously good homelife; he doesn’t talk about it much becuase he doesnt want to make other people feel bad -never learned to cook becuase his mom always had it covered -can follow basic recipes though -probably has echolalia and will mimic anything anyone says at random -will also sing the same 5seconds of whatever song is stuck in his head and get it stuck in everyone else’s heads too -cries easily; has probably cried during every movie he’s ever watched, wheather is was sad, happy, etc -is also filled with unexplainable rage that he takes out on any enemy who gets close enough -fantastic at drawing -keeps a sketchbook filled with vent art to cope with the horrors of war -ADHD

GhostSoap:

-Ghost’s love language is acts of service, but Soaps is gift giving and words of affirmation -Ghost cant take a compliment to save his life though -Ghost does all the cooking, but Soap does all the cleaning -Soap is the little spoon, but he also sleeps on top of Ghost because he knows he likes the pressure -Soap draws Simon’s face at least once per day -sometimes he poses -no one is allowed to call Soap “Johnny” except for his family and Ghost -Price called him Johnny once and Ghost got so upset he never did it again -the only reason they started dating was becuase Alejandro thought they were so obviously together, he got offended on their behalfs when he found out they werent -gave Soap terrible advice to help him ask Ghost out -Soap asked Ghost out and cried when he said yes

[littlegingermochipie]

anastasia au / アナスタシアバージョン zukaang week 2021 day four | ba sing se season 2 au / 平行宇宙

aang woke up under the control of dai li, while zuko and iroh lived in ba sing se three years after banishment. set as canon divergent version before crossroads of destiny. more of this story below the cut!

excuse my fuzzy brain for incoming plotholes maybe hehe yeah wow i love impulsiveness. anyway yeah sozin comet ain't comin until like, 120 AG-ish

zuko and iroh stopped searching for the avatar and peacefully worked under quon's patronage at ba sing se.

fortunately, due to their successful tea business, they found better access to knowledge of the avatar, as well as various air nomad's relics and textual informations. they decided to keep everything at their secret warehouse, hiring bands of thugs to keep it safe.

unbeknownst to iroh and zuko, four years before they lived as refugees, dai li was the first one to find aang in his iceberg state near eastern air temple.

hundred years ago, aang briefly fought against fire nation army at the temple alongside pathik, gyatso, the nuns, and several young monks. he was saved by pathik from dire situation by getting thrown into the ocean.

long feng planned to raise the boy as their secret weapon so earth kingdom could rise, taking down the fire nation.

upon woken up, aang was hypnotized, and could only remember that he's an orphan named liu jun, born as earthbender.

he was told that the markings on his skin was a curse since birth by angered spirits, and to never let other people see it or they'll be facing the consequences of his misfortune.

he lived like a bird in a cage under long feng's watch and the head of dai li's tutelage. for six years long, he felt horribly stressed.

one day, aang finally found a way to get out of his residence by tricking the caretakers, sneaking and riding on earth kingdom's logistic vehicles.

once he's out of the food supply cart, he found and saved momo from being sold by black market thugs in the lower ring. there, he stumbled upon zuko and iroh's secret warehouse.

zuko was mad for the intrusion, but quickly realized something about the boy's appearance. iroh, however, noticed that this liu jun has upper class upbringing, and concluded that he's one of the rebel child who wanted the taste of outer walls.

zuko just blatantly state the obvious; "kid, you really, really look like the avatar in that painting," but aang was like, "who's avatar?" and ended up being educated about hundred years war history.

aang felt shocked by the tattoos he saw on the painting. still, he quickly dismissed the idea that he might be a living airbender, since their tattoo was supposed to be a sign of mastery, not a curse like long feng said. he didn't tell this to iroh and zuko, yet.

"aish, you must be mad for ever thinking i'm the avatar. he should be an old man by now! i'm afraid of being near fire or under the water for too long, and i dislike being in cramped spaces with damp air. how am i supposed to bend those elements?" (those are also the mental issues resulted by long feng's braingwashing, ofc)

either way, he needed to hide from long feng. aang quickly sealed the deal to iroh's offer who gave him the chance to help their tea shop in the meantime. well, anything but being under dai li's supervision works.

for a week of working together, zuko had noticed a lot of strange things in aang; like how he could easily play kangling (air nomad's bone flute), how his footsteps were so light he almost can never be heard walking, and how he never want to bathe and get dressed with other people nearby.

in the hunt for aang, long feng sent royal guards to every corner of earth kingdom territory. finally, they found aang at the warehouse. chaotic pursuit ensues. iroh and zuko managed to save him—at the price of being labeled as criminals.

with the help of june, iroh and zuko found their way to their old ship and crews. they brought aang there, and asked who he actually was since he's so important for the dai li.

from zuko and iroh's research, the only living people who could confirm the avatar's identity was bumi, who's in omashu, and the temple sages. too much risk for those, ofc, so they opted to go to the empty eastern air temple for more hints.

there, they met pathik, who went, "monkey feathers! aang, is that you?" to which aang replied, "nah, i'm liu jun." and pathik's like, "but i can sense your avatar spirit! and-and your tattoos, let me look at it!" but aang was so, so afraid of showing it.

then, by nudging his inner ki, pathik managed to trigger the avatar state out of aang, causing him to remember everything, including his airbending ability.

zuko and iroh be like, "well, shit, he's really the avatar," and their journey went rather hellish from that, with both zhao's fleet and the dai li on their tail.

after being informed by pathik that he had bonded with an air bison named appa, aang wished he could find him, since appa's the only family that might remain alive with him in this world. zuko promised that they would find appa.

under the pretense of companionship, zuko secretly plotted to give aang to ozai, while he and iroh helped the boy to master four elements by travelling around the world.

feelings were hindering him on the way, though. months of travelling together did that. "i think we could be good friends, even in another lifetime, if not a hundred years ago." oof, aang.

just like dimitri and anastasia, zukaang had deep bonding session at the boat with their dancing dragon and firebending lessons. iroh did smile knowingly at them.

betrayal slapped hard when aang found out about zuko's actual plan during their fight against zhao at north pole, who revealed with, "you befriend this dishonored prince, avatar? all he wanted to do was to send you to the fire lord as a nicely wrapped gift! this was all a ploy to earn your trust, to take you down by knowing your exact blind spots! you are merely a tool for him to regain his former identity!"

ouch. they got separated from there. aang then teamed up with the eventually formed gaang at the other side of the world, while zuko getting scolded by iroh, "you don't only lose someone that you care about, but the hope of the whole world! your hope! hadn't the past three years taught you something? hunger for power only bring despair to you!"

both once separated parties then reunited with the crossroads episode. aang ended up dead, katara swore to finish the fire siblings off, and zuko went absolutely mad, drowned in grief.

it's up to zuko now, to actually fulfill his promises; from finding appa to saving the world from his father—all without knowing that katara could revive aang. angst angst angst, final boss, zukaang banging then everyone lived happily ever after ♥

the musical scores would be:

a rumour in ba sing se

once upon an agrahāyana

caldera holds the key to your heart

learn to wield it

learn to wield it (dancing dragon reprise)

in the dark of the moonless night

feels great to finally manifest this draft of zukaang anastasia au for @zukaangweek uwu