#either way she was forced into it by people who made that decision before she ever existed

[figureitoutinthemorning]

Speaking of the robot girl story!!!!

Top row: still unnamed robot girl on the left, Diana (another robot) on the right. Diana is technically older, but was designed to appear younger, and is much more childlike. She was intended to be more of a spy than your typical living weapon — children can get away with things adults can’t.

Bottom row: Abby (the daughter of robot girl’s creator — hasn’t seen her dad in fifteen years. Refuses to answer to the name Abigail. He’s the only one who ever called her that), Abby’s wife Nell, and their son Oliver, who is about eight here (it’s hard to show age on Picrew)!

[hedgehog-moss]

My chickens have not been lucky this winter—the youngest one, Louise Michel, despite her revolutionary name, was eaten by a fox earlier this year. At least this new year was off to an auspicious start for this fox and her family. It made me think about Fantastic Mr Fox and how this book indoctrinates small children into directing their empathy towards the beleaguered fox family, while the hen characters are complete non-people—they are even called stupid at one point, even though they are just sitting in their coop, doing their chicken job!

Anyway. Dru survived the fox attack unscathed and non-traumatised, which made me respect her even more than I already did. Drusilla is quite old by now, and she has survived everything—the fox attack that killed her first coopmate, Cordélia; several air strikes by birds of prey; Pandolf trying to scare her to serve his own dog interests... Even though she has long stopped laying eggs, she is a precious asset to my chicken coop: I am going to get new baby hens in the spring and I need Dru to teach them her strategies to win the Darwinian struggle for existence. As an elderly hen, her job is no longer to provide eggs, but wisdom.

And then I heard Dru cry out one afternoon, as if she had been attacked by something.

I felt confused as I ran out to rescue her—I'd seen her just five minutes before when I went out to distribute hay, she was near the pasture gate hanging out with the llamas, donkey, and dog. There's no way a fox would attack a chicken surrounded by such a security detail. I quickly found her, sitting just outside the pasture, in her normal brooding position, she didn't seem hurt—but Pandolf ran towards her as well, and she didn't move out of his way. That was very unusual. Pandolf runs at things and people like a fluffy corrida bull, happy to knock you over with the force of his love (there's a reason the French equivalent of "like a bull in a china shop" is "like a dog in a bowling game"), and Dru always makes sure to jump out of his way, boosting herself with her wings if necessary.

I wondered if she had a broken wing, but when I started examining her she made a very eloquent "urghh go away" gesture at me with both of her wings, so she could move them. Her legs didn't seem injured either, but she refused to get up. I ended up carrying her back to her coop so she could sit in peace and process her feelings, but she wasn't feeling better the next morning. She clucked at me amicably when I visited her but she didn't go outside all day, so I had to leave food and water outside her room like a bemused parent trying to accommodate an angsty teenager.

Since I hadn't been able to detect any injuries and she was eating normally, I thought she might be depressed. Maybe it had taken her some time to understand that she had lost her friend and was all alone in her coop, and then the realisation had hit her, and her normal chicken activities suddenly felt meaningless. That didn't really explain the sharp cry I'd heard the day before, though.

(I hadn't noticed until I took a closer look at the above photo that there is a dirty stain on the wall of the laying box! Embarrassing. But to my defence, chickens are not very clean creatures and keeping their coop clean is a Sisyphean task. I guess I always focus on cleaning the parts where the hens sit and walk, and hadn't leaned over to look at the inside wall. I've now cleaned it up with a brush—but I almost regret doing so, because a friend gave the stain a beautiful and mystical interpretation:

I waited a couple of days to see if Dru's agoraphobia got better, but on Day 3 of her refusing to leave her coop, I decided to take her to the vet.

The farmer who was sitting next to Dru and me in the waiting room seemed very puzzled about my decision to bring a chicken past her prime and no longer laying eggs to the vet for a diagnosis. At first he assumed that I hoped to have her diagnosed as Safe To Eat.

I told him about how this hen is very good at surviving, and I want her to pass on her knowledge to future generations.

Dru looked cranky at the vet, maybe because there was a poster on the wall that said "What's for dinner tonight?" and she took it personally.

Fun chicken fact: the rounder a hen is, the angrier. She may look like an adorable cream puff, but she is a ball of rage:

The vet noticed that her leg was a bit swollen, and said it could be an infection, or maybe some heavy animal had stepped on her foot. He gave me antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and then I had fun trying to make my cranky chicken take her meds every day. Do you think getting a cat to take a pill is difficult? Try it with an animal who evolved from raptors.

Here are screenshots from a video (which my wifi refused to load)—Dru wasn't having a good time, but trust me, neither was I. It was a daily struggle. On the other hand, I discovered that she loves cherry tomatoes! I had a cherry tomato plant in my greenhouse that was only here to keep the aquaponic system going in the winter, I wasn't eating the fruit as they were bitter February tomatoes, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to offer them to my chicken until I was walking around the greenhouse looking for some insect to reward her for taking her medicine. The daily tomato treat delighted her a lot more than some boring insect :)

Well, we are reaching the end of this adventure—Dru will get new coopmates soon (and hopefully start teaching them her secrets immediately) and the vet visit was very worth it 😊 She still has trouble going down the ladder of her coop so I go get her every morning and carry her near my house, but she is walking and, more importantly, scratching around for food again! Here's a little video:

Oh, no, wait, we aren't done—I must ask everyone to take part in the Trial of Pirlouit.

The vet did say it looked as if some heavy animal had stepped on Dru's foot... Considering the llamas are very delicate walkers, and Pandolf is a reckless brute but isn't heavy enough to break a chicken's leg, this makes Pirlouit the main suspect.

[evermarch]

when i think of everlark, i think of a jewish concept called beshert. it’s a yiddish word that’s pretty hard to describe in english. there isn’t a one-to-one translation. it’s not only about romantic love, but (at least nowadays) it’s most often used in that context. sometimes people define it as “fate,” but i think that’s an oversimplification. what it really means is destiny, but understood through the framework of the choices we make. in other words, “this would've happened anyway.”

people describe their partner as “my beshert,” and in many ways that language boils down to “soulmate.” but beshert is less a guarantee that something will happen, that "fate'" will push people together or to make specific choices, and more that people making certain choices will lead to an outcome becoming inevitable. your soulmate is not your soulmate because an unascertainable force has guided you to each other, but because of all of the decisions big and small which shape you into people who are meant for each other.

and that, to me, is the story of katniss and peeta. their story is one of a lack of choice, and yet their love is defined not by the choices of the people around them, but by the choices they make.

that lack of choice becomes central to katniss and peeta before either of them are so much as a concept in their parents’ minds. yet, the simple fact that their parents made choices when they had no choices to make is what put their children in the same place at the same time. peeta is only possible because burdock saved otho’s life. katniss is only possible because asterid defied a future that otherwise seemed inevitable—a life with a boy from town, almost certainly otho himself. why otho chose to marry who he did, why burdock had the wherewithal to protect otho, why asterid had the courage to refuse her upbringing, we can only guess. we are left wondering: but for these actions, from a kick in the leg to fleeing home for love, would the eldest daughter of older parents and the youngest son of three boys have been in the position to choose each other at all?

there are generations of everdeens and marches and mellarks and bairds whose decisions big and small brought everlark to the brink of each other. but not one of those innumerable actions would mean anything had peeta not chosen to heed his father’s words on the first day of school. had the girl with two braids in a faded red dress not chosen to sing in music class. had katniss not run into the feast to save the life of the boy with the bread. had the sick, starving, bleeding loverboy not taken the palmful of berries from the girl on fire.

there’s plenty of luck, there, too. peeta points it out himself in the cave. but what is luck compared to choice? was it luck that cinna was there on time to make the choice to link them by their glowing hands? or that snow was full of enough resentment to fuel his choice to, even insincerely, allow the introduction of the two-victor rule? what of thresh’s integrity guiding his split-second choice to, against all reason, spare katniss’ life? or seneca crane’s short-sightedness, so uncharacteristic of a gamemaker, enabling his choice to allow them both to live? where does choice end, and luck begin? are they truly distinguishable?

prim’s reaping would not go awry if katniss did not volunteer, true. but if haymitch didn’t stumble forward, drawing the cameras before teetering off the stage, would effie be frazzled enough to pluck the first card off the top of the slips? a woman so committed to ritual, to protocol, known for her predictable words and consistent idiosyncrasies, shirks her process of reaching deep into the bowl. would she otherwise pull one of peeta’s other four slips? one of gale’s 40? or some other boy altogether? any are possible. none are probable. but the fact of the matter is that she does pull peeta’s name after this unsettling sequence of situations, and it is impossible to know whether that is a matter of luck or choice or neither or both.

so where, then, does that leave the boy with the bread, who is a whiz with fires, and the girl on fire, who owes her life to bread? who come from a place where the ritual binding two lovers for life is toasting bread over a fire? whose story together began with two burnt loaves? what, ultimately, makes them each other’s beshert?

the answer lies in the dandelion in the spring. the dandelion is their resilience of character against all odds. the manifestation of every choice they make when they otherwise have none. peeta, taking a beating to give up bread his family could not afford to spare, and learning that he could wield his kindness as defiance of a place where he himself saw nothing of the sort. katniss, in the midst of weakness of body and mind, finding the strength to grow both inside and outside the fence, to save herself and those who cannot help but depend on her. together, they discover the strength in their kindness, and so they discover themselves.

and that is what would have happened anyway. because in any universe exists a boy who grows kind from a lack of love at home, who needs strength to keep his kindness from turning him too soft. in any universe exists a girl who grows strong from supporting her family, and needs kindness to keep her strength from turning her too hard. someone who can tame a fire. someone who sees life in a loaf of bread.

neither choice nor destiny can claim such an inevitability in the absence of one another. and they, ultimately, are nothing without the love that binds them together. that is beshert.

[aventurineswife]

helos fre :3 random but any thoughts on self aware hsr 🙏🙏 ngl it's absolute peak to me cuz the fics I've read about it is so good I wanna digest it into my blood cells 😍🥰🥰/hj /lh

AHHHH I HAVE FEW BUT ITS PROBABLY NOT GOOD 😭🙏 (I might need to write a series about it in the future lmaoo)

The Express itself, and the crew aboard it, start referencing an "observer" that influences their journey. They might leave cryptic remarks like, "We wouldn’t have made it here without a guiding force…" or, "Are you out there, watching us?"

Himeko and Welt have deep discussions about the metaphysical implications of being part of a "game." Welt's past in other dimensions makes him particularly reflective.

Occasionally, your Trailblazer might break the fourth wall and stare directly "out" of the screen. They’d ask questions like, "Why are you helping us? What’s in it for you?" Or even, "Do you think you’re doing the right thing?"

Their dialogue changes subtly depending on your in-game decisions, showing that they’re paying attention.

Kafka is one of the few who seems fully aware that you’re pulling the strings. She might tease, "How long will you keep playing this game? Or is it playing you?" It’s unclear if she means it literally or as a metaphor.

Pela starts digging into the concept of "higher dimensions" where powerful entities (like the players) influence their world. You might find hidden journal entries speculating about the possibility of unseen forces guiding their lives.

Characters start commenting on how often you farm the same materials or run the same domains (?). For instance, Dan Heng might say, "You’ve had me fight this exact enemy over fifty times… What are you preparing for?"

When summoning characters, some of them might react to being "chosen." For example: Silver Wolf might say, "Took you long enough. Were you saving for someone else?" While Seele could mutter, "You really wanted me, didn’t you?"

As beings tied to the metaphysical order of the universe, the Aeons might perceive your existence. Xianzhou scholars hypothesize that you are an entity akin to an Aeon of "Control" or "Fate."

The Stellaron within the Trailblazer seems to have an awareness of you, treating you like an ally—or a potential threat. It might whisper cryptic messages about your choices or consequences.

Herta becomes suspicious of the odd behaviors in the universe and starts referring to you as a "prime variable." She might even try to communicate directly through simulated events, asking for your cooperation.

Some characters, like March 7th or Natasha, might express gratitude for your care and attention. "You always bring me along… Do you think I’m special?" they might ask, breaking the fourth wall.

Certain antagonists, like Cocolia or Jade, might break from their usual dialogue to challenge your decisions. "You think you’re the hero? You’re just another player, aren’t you?"

A secret cutscene or dialogue could play if you act in unexpected ways, revealing that the characters have fully realized their reality. It could be bittersweet, with them either embracing or lamenting their lack of agency.

Aventurine might acknowledge your influence subtly. After completing a mission for the IPC, he sends a message: "Noticed your knack for efficiency. You deserve a little bonus for all the extra effort you 'inspire.' Don’t let it go to your head." He attaches an unusually large amount of credits, as though recognizing you directly for optimizing his profits.

Argenti might kneel before the screen during a heartfelt moment (or after a battle): "O noble guide, it is your divine hand that shapes my path! I dedicate my blade not just to the people, but to you. May your will continue to shine upon us!" He also gifts you rare items or sends messages of gratitude, as though you're a divine figure he serves.

AHHH I wanna write fics for certain characters or something (this could also lead to yandere themes depending if the person/anon reqs for it).

[viperify]

𝗔𝗨 | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Moonlight Cravings.

Short summary: Vampire!Tom has known he’d make you his ever since he first met you. When his need for your blood grows unbearably strong, he knows it’s time to finally make a move.

A/N: As I plan on writing more than just one full-length fic for my Vampire AU anyway and haven’t had the time to work on it yet, I thought I’d get started with a how-vampire!Tom-would-slowly-declare-his-presence-in-your-life drabble/fic.

wordcount: 1,0k

Tom’s presence looms over your life like a shadow. He seems to be wherever you go, and though he never pays you much attention, he still is there. Either casually leaning against the wall near the class you are attending next or accompanying his friends to the Three Broomsticks when you are there as well. Which is quite ironic, considering most people know Tom doesn’t even like butterbeer.

In fact, you are not quite sure if he likes anything really. Each time you share a class, Tom is mostly quiet, except for his witty remarks whenever professors ask questions. Even outside the classroom he doesn’t talk much, mostly found in the library with his head buried in books. Well, as long as you are in the library as well, that is.

You don’t think too much of it. It’s Tom Riddle, after all—naturally one of the most handsome men you have ever laid eyes on, but oh so unreachable. You vividly remember a girl back in your third year asking him to attend the Yule Ball with her. It was a decision she made against the advice of practically everyone she asked, and it ended exactly the same way you had told her it would. Things like these never end well with him, so you don’t even attempt questioning his behaviour—instead, you think you are utterly delusional for even assuming there could be anything between the two of you.

Tom, on the other hand, is entirely consumed by you. From the moment he first caught your unmistakably sweet scent, he knew he had to have you, his mind going blank every time you simply passed him in the corridors. It’s as if there is a force pulling him towards you, one that he can’t control, one that clouds his mind and strips him of any sane thoughts he had left. Taming his needs as a vampire has never been difficult. Not until he met you, that is.

And as soon as bouquets of your favourite flowers show up in your dorm every other week, accompanied with small gifts like your pralines of choice, you can’t help but wonder whether there was a chance Tom’s strange behaviour did have something to do with this. It’s these thoughts that keep you up at night and make you zone out in class. There is not much you can do except wonder who it is that admires you, but you sure have a guess.

During yet another restless night, you decide to get up and take a walk through the castle to calm your mind. The hallways are faintly illuminated by the moon’s glow, shining brightly as it completes yet another full circle around the earth. Although your steps are as quiet as they can possibly be, you soon feel the air shift around you, as though someone is watching you. But when you turn around, no one is there.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around the castle this late at night.” A voice coming from your right remarks, and you almost drop your wand, heart hammering wildly in your chest in response to the unexpected interruption. A tall figure emerges from behind a pillar then, and it takes you less than one second to figure out who it is. You had forgotten that Tom Riddle also happened to be a prefect.

It’s too dark to make out much of his face, but there is an undeniable red glow that flickers in his otherwise dark brown eyes. Before you can even process the thought, he blinks, and it’s gone. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifts just slightly as he takes in your startled expression, raising his eyebrow expectantly.

 “I suppose I- I couldn’t sleep. You must know, walking helps to clear my mind.” You manage to get out, and although it isn’t a lie, your hesitation sure made it sound like one.

Tom huffs. “A selfish action that just cost your house ten points. Now, you surely wouldn’t mind me escorting you to your respective dormitories?”

You don’t try to argue—it is still Tom Riddle you’re dealing with after all. Instead, you respond with a small nod and retrace your steps with him by your side.

“What might your mind be troubled with?” he asks then, his voice cutting through the silence of the night. The question makes you tense slightly, your fingers curling tighter around your wand. It’s the first time he actively looks for a conversation, the first time his presence feels intended and real.

You take a breath, not exactly knowing what to respond. “Your seemingly seventh sense for my whereabouts“ doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer after all.

The upcoming exam season saves you from the awkwardness. Although he doesn’t seem to fully believe you, he lets it go, not speaking another word until you disappear behind your dormitory door.

But even then, you can’t seem to sleep, the image of the red glow in his eyes lingering in your mind. You know there is something you can connect it to, and soon, a memory of a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in your second year resurfaces.

Full moon. Pale skin. Red eyes. They all match, and yet you find it hard to believe. Vampires have been extinct for nearly 400 years in Great Britain, there was no real reason for you to think he could be one.

Right?

[bantersnatch]

Hello, all! I think the time has come for us to talk about Very Important People's former cryptid Bianca, because, frankly, I think it's fun to have fan theories in play before things start getting canonized -- especially if those fan theories end up being completely wrong! Before I get too deep into tin hat theorizing, let's take a post to review the facts.

To begin, some basics about Bianca herself.

Bianca is host!Vic's stepdaughter via their marriage to Bianca's unnamed father.

The Host dislikes Bianca to the point that they are willing to sacrifice her to dark forces, they fantasize about throwing her into the ocean, and so forth (all to Bianca's face, mind you).

Bianca, in turn, is at minimum not receptive to spending time with the Host.

She works as a PA on the fictional VIP set.

She is well-liked on set.

She and the Host are the same age.

She, the Host, her father, and a certain extraterrestrial are all living together.

And, of course, we now know she is played by the wonderful Talia Tabin! Is this relevant to lore theories....? No, not really. But I'm very excited about the recent face reveal :}

To understand Bianca and her relationship with the Host, I think it's worth also talking about her father/the Host's husband. So far, the husband is a somewhat mysterious figure, but a picture of him is emerging.

Continued under the cut is what we know about him, alongside some more surface-level speculation about what this all means.

The Host describes their husband as "a lovely man".

The Host sleeps and brushes their teeth on set, flirts with guests, and seems overall deeply lonely and unfulfilled. These are not signs of a happy marriage.

The Host and their husband can afford a house and an attached guest house. Presumably in LA. The guy has money.*

He was invited to a Gwyneth Paltrow goop party at some point.

He took the last name Michaelis "in order to feel closer to [the Host]" when they got married.

He is reportedly "in his forties".**

*this could be attributed to a "Friends"-like setup where people are inexplicably able to afford real estate for the bit, but I think that's relatively unlikely; if you've watched enough interviews with Vic, they make a lot of jokes about the LA housing market and how well-off you have to be to own property. Who's to say, though, this is improv and sometimes the bit reigns supreme! **per the Bonus Content episode, which I personally consider as canonical as anything else.

Extrapolating these facts out, we can gather:

Bianca's father had her fairly young, assuming that in lore Bianca (and the Host) are in their late twenties to mid thirties. Let's do the math for the absolute oldest he could have become a father. If the Host's husband is currently 49 and Bianca is (significantly younger than her actor) only 27, her father would have still been college-aged when he had her. It's possible that the Host lied about their husband's age because they're embarrassed about the true age difference; it's also possible that the "forties" statement was something Vic made up on the spot without fully considering the math. In either case this is worth noting.

Bianca's father is someone with enough of a foothold in Hollywood to procure invitations to celebrity events. He's certainly more prominent in the industry than the Host, who is relegated to "plus one" status.

Building off the previous point, and combining it with the oddity of both his daughter and his spouse working on the same project, I think it's possible Bianca's father was involved in hiring decisions at the VIP studio -- and, with the Host reportedly paying to be there rather than the other way around, it's possible he also bankrolled parts of the production.

He's the kind of guy who would marry a person young enough to be his kid, and he's willing to go through with such a marriage even though it creates friction with his actual kid.

In short, Bianca is the daughter of a man with influence, but for whatever reason she's stuck working alongside -- and living with! -- a step-parent who openly daydreams about tossing her into the sea. There's something keeping the Host and Bianca stuck together despite their mutual dislike, whether that's purely their connection through Bianca's father or something more complicated.

More on that here.

[orangecatsmissingbraincell]

Shame Incarnate: A Defense of Shauna Shipman

If you’ve been around the fandom, you’ve seen it said that Ben accidentally doomed Shauna by handing her the knife. It started innocent enough; someone had to cut up the animals for them to eat. However when Javi died, the butcher became a different role entirely. When they ate Jackie it was sudden and in the moment. It was primal too as they just ripped off what they wanted from her. When they ate Javi though, it was deliberate. She cut up Javi so they could pretend they weren’t eating a real person since the shame from eating Jackie was still too great

I don’t know if this was intended or not, but to cover the face is often used as a symbol of shame, as to cover your face hid you from the eyes of God. There’s also the more in-show explanation that she doesn’t want to watch herself actually cut a person, someone who she actually was fond of no less. You can hold both together and what you’re met with is someone who’s forced to actually bear the brutality of the wilderness face to face when the other girls were still trying to hide from it

Even before Javi though, there were two near kills. The first was Travis at Doomcoming, the other was Natalie after the card game. Both times, Shauna was the one who was expected to do it. While in Doomcoming they were all tripping so it’s hard to judge emotions, we get a better feeling with the card game. Shauna doesn’t want to kill Natalie. Her hand was shaking, she was about to cry, and she wanted to do it from behind so she didn’t have to watch herself kill another person. She already had the trauma of Jackie hanging over her. I don’t believe she actually killed Jackie, but I do believe Shauna thinks she did. And here she was, expected to actually kill. I bring these two up for us to remember that in neither scenario she did not initiate, it was the group who decided that Travis and Natalie had to die

Season 2 is when the rage started to set in for her. It grew ever since Jackie’s death and the miscarriage. The two most important people to her, she had lost to the wilderness. The only coping she actually gets is Lottie allowing her to beat her near to death, which created this association of violence and catharsis. By the time we get to Season 3, rage and anger were her primary emotions

In Season 3, she helped Melissa slit Ben’s ankle. The girls told her and Melissa to slit his ankle and they were all waiting for them to come out but then Natalie said “you don’t have to enjoy it this much.” They all wanted her to, though, and they had no reason. Ben was already crippled. There was no way for him to actually escape even if they never cut that heel. It was brutality for the sake of

So what’s the real issue with Shauna? It’s that she bears all their sins. She is their shame in the flesh and she feels no guilt. She reminds them of what they’ve done. Although letting Javi die and butchering him and maiming Ben were group decisions, Shauna still had to do the dirty work, and what does she get in consolation? Shame for trying to cope. Shame for not being ashamed. Of course though, when she goes through the tragedy of a miscarriage that’s a group sacrifice! Not her doing the group’s dirty work so they can close their eyes and ignore it, but her greatest personal tragedy. That was their sacrifice

There’s a reason I’ve grown so defensive of Shauna. I think her crash out was inevitable. No one can actually do all that on their own without any proper support. She was a single girl bearing the shame of an entire group with no real way to cope. If the team had stepped in and been more empathetic with her, she wouldn’t be the same anger driven person she was in Season 3. Instead though, her only option was to turn off every emotion except anger because that’s what they made her do

Sure, she didn’t have to enjoy it this much, but none of them had to act like such fucking saints either

Ending this with one of the last times she got to show any real emotion

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.

“You—you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”

“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”

“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.

“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”

“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.

“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”

You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.

It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.

“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”

“Right, sure—”

“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.

“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.

“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.

“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.

“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”

“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.

“You don’t even know my conditions.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.

“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”

He smiled slightly.

“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”

                                            *

When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”

You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.

“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”

A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.

“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”

“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”

“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.

“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”

“You think Romanoff would disagree?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”

“Barton?”  

“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”

“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”

He shot you an apologetic look.

“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”

“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”

“Next?”

“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”

“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”

“And I’m not changing my surname.”

He threw his head back. “Charm…”

“Out of question.”

“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.

“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”

“It’d be better if—”

“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.

“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”

“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”

You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”

“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”

“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”

“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.

“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.

“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”

“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”

“And if we want a divorce—”

“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.

“Any specific reque—”

“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.

“How long have you had your eye on it?”

“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”

Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."

“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”

“Nothing.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Bucky…”

“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.

“Yeah tell me. What is it?”

“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”

“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”

As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.

“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”

“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.

“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”

                                              *

 You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.

Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.

But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.

That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.

Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.

You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”

“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.

“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.

“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.

He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”  

“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”

He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”

“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”

“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.

“So what are we watching?”

“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”

He let out a groan. “Seriously?”

“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.

“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”

“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.

“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”

“Not Sam?”

“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”   

“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.

“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”

“How do you know my favorite?”  

“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”

“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.

“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”

“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.  

“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”

Chapter 10

[swtt4hk]

Be mine || Cho Sang-woo x fem!Foreign Reader! (Oneshot) {fluff}

requested by: @sensationallysangwoo

warnings: mentions of suicide

You had recently moved to South Korea from your home country. Things were pretty hard at first and fitting into a completely different country , with different culture and language was a really big step to take in your life. You had moved there to make a new start , meet new people and explore new places after experiencing some traumatic things in your life.

Your past is dark. Your mother abandoned you and your father when you were just a year old and your dad was forced to raise you on his own. Your dad was working multiple jobs to make as much money as he could and still managed to spend a lot of quality time with you. Unfortunately, when you were at the age of 11 he died in a car crash and you were forced to live with your aunt , who wasn’t exactly the best parent. She was a mean person and even though you had told her that you don’t feel comfortable mentioning your parents , she brought them up everytime you fought and told you that you deserved everything you went through. All this caused you to dive into depression and by the age of 14 , you had tried to kill yourself multiple times.

By the time you turned 16 , you moved out and moved in with your best friend , Keira. Moving in with Keira was the best decision you had ever made in your life. She had been your best friend since you were kids and she always had a way to make you smile. When you turned eighteen, Keira moved to another country with her boyfriend which resulted you being alone again. So you decided to take a big step in your life and move to another country. You worked your ass off for a year straight and decided to move to Korea , since you had heard a lot of good things about the country.

Moving there really was a great idea. Sure , it was difficult at first but things have become easier for you except for one thing…the Korean language. You had never been good with learning new things , especially new languages , so you had a pretty tough time communicating with people there. It hurt you a lot not being able to communicate with other Koreans , especially with a specific person…Cho Sang-woo.

You and Sang-woo had met at a cafe which you regularly went to. He is a handsome man , a little bit older than you but still really attractive. He has manners , he is smart and always chooses with words wisely before speaking. He’s everything that you were looking for. You both flirted a lot but it was never something serious , even though you both felt the strong connection between you.

Even though you guys clicked immediately and had a strong bond , the language barrier between you two was frustrating. You often misunderstood what each other said and sometimes you even had to use translating apps to have a conversation.

Sang-woo liked you a lot. From the first time he saw you , sitting on the cafe table , enjoying your coffee and admiring the view , he knew he had to talk to you. It was like something inside him knew he had to be yours. He often tried to give you signs about him liking you but you either took it as a joke or didn’t understand what he had tried to say. But he still tried. He even started taking lessons on your native language to manage to get you to understand that he loves you and wants you to officially be his.

After weeks of practicing, we woke up and decided it was time. He was going to confess his feelings to you. He was a 100% that he was ready to take that big step into your guys’ relationship. He invited you over to his place to “hang out” and you happily agreed to do it.

Clueless about what was going to happen , you wore a new skirt that you got , a sparkly top and high heels which made your legs seem beautiful and long. As soon as he opened the door and saw you standing in front of his door , looking as beautiful as ever , he was reassured that he NEEDED to confess to you. It was now or never.

The whole night , he tried to be closer to you , touch you more to see your reaction and you seemed unbothered by it. You really didn’t mind. You actually liked when Sang-woo was close to you or touch your arm or leg. It made you feel butterflies in your stomach but didn’t allow yourself to show it. You couldn’t. You thought you don’t deserve to be loved by someone like Sang-woo and besides , you thought he didn’t feel the same.

As the clock struck 11pm , he decided that it was time. He was about to confess. You finished your conversation, followed by a comfortable silence and he broke it.

—Y/N , can I ask you something?

—of course , what’s up?

he thought a lot before speaking. He had to choose his words wisely and use the right words to express himself correctly so there are not any misunderstandings.

—Do you like stars?

you found the question a little weird but you liked it. No one had ever asked you that.

—like the stars in the sky?

—yes , the stars in the sky.

—uhh…yeah I do like them a lot!

Sang-woo smiles to himself and looks at you deep in the eye before speaking , which made your stomach flip.

—the stars in the sky con-contain important information about the physics of the Universe and they sym…uhh…symphonise?

you chuckle , finding his little mistake cute

—do you mean symbolise?

—oh yeah! Symbolise! The stars in the sky symbolise positivity and happiness , right?

—yeah I think you’re right…but why are you saying all that? I already know that about the stars.

Sang-woo takes a deep breath before continuing

—you…you are my star.

You are both surprised and confused by what he said. “What does he mean by saying that I’m his star?”

—what do you mean?

Sang-woo smiles and slowly places his hand on top of yours.

—we are friends and you know information about me just like stars do for the Universe. Also stars symbolise happiness and you…you are my happiness.

Sang-woo says nervously , waiting for your reaction. You smile and caress his hand , clear that you haven’t understood what he means.

—awww thank you , Sang-woo , that’s such a cute compliment!

He sighs and looks away in frustration. He really wants you to understand that he wants you. He grabs your chin , forcing you to look at him.

—y/n , can you understand me? I need to tell you something important!

—y-yes! What is it?

—I…

He sighs again and his grip on your chin loosens and he caresses it with his thumbs , making your heart race.

—you…you are my star. You bring me happiness and I don’t just want to be the Universe. I want to be…uhh…something more. I want to be important to you and…make you mine. I want to make you happy and I want to be more than just your friend.

He says loud and clear but still nervous. You look at him in the eyes , clearly shocked by the way he expressed himself but you still understood what he meant. He wants to be yours. He wants to…be your boyfriend. You smile and caress his cheek with one hand and his hand with the other one.

—of course…of course I’ll be your girlfriend, your universe and anything else you want , Sang-woo.

Sang-woo looks at you shocked. You finally understood. All of this hard work finally paid off. A wide smile spread on his face and wraps his arms around you , hugging you tightly.

—thank you…thank you so much y/n…

You smile warmly and hug him back

—no…thank YOU. Thank you for trying your best to learn my language and confess your feelings to me. And sorry for not understanding earlier…

Sang-woo places a soft kiss on your cheek and hugs you tightly. He doesn’t ever want to let go now that you are finally his. Not after he studied hard , despite his age. This proves that people are allowed to live each other even if they don’t speak the same language and if someone really loves you , they’ll do anything for you.

———————————————————————

The end! Thank you so much @sensationallysangwoo for requesting this and I’m sorry for writing this like 2 weeks after you requested it…anyway , my requests are open and you all can request anything at any time! More fics coming soon!

taglist: @chosangwooswife

[blueiight]

ldpdl, ethnicity, and the false monolith of blackness

there's this false tendency to think amc louis being made black is pandering, or a means of removing louis from his oh-so-detailed /sarcasm/ background in the books. i also find that people tend to not even understand what show louis's ethnic background is, despite rolin jones the showrunner and even the fictional louis both coalescing around this multigenerational explanation of the gens de couleur in new orleans, and how jim crow disempowered them.

I came around to his ethnicity a sort of interesting way which is through Lestat. [ … ] I was like lets give him a legitimate a third attempt at figuring how to be with somebody for the rest of his life and how to not repeat your mistakes. [ … ] I started from there so it had to be someone with some money cause he had to be with his own folks and I thought he wanted someone who could fight back and who could be a challenge and would force him to restrain himself. And nobody at AMC was interested in 7 seasons of the regretful plantation owner, so we made Louis come from a lineage that did have a plantation and did own slaves.

rolin jones in the s1 post-finale episode of the podcast names how he came to this understanding of louis's character. lestat, after failing to make a bride of his mother, and a concubine of nicki, was seeking for someone of a similar background, or the most approximate equivalent. he would not have been interested in louis if louis was an anglophone baptist black man descended from upper-south arrivals into new orleans, nor would he have been interested in louis if louis was a poor black creole honestly s1 does not give a good reading of claudia's ethnic bg in new orleans, but since she cannot understand french, we can presume shes either a poor creole removed from her cultural background with her vampiric adoption narrative in mind, or was also of an anglophone baptist black background like claudia was. louis coming from this fallen sort of gentry, the free gens de couleur, similar to that of the tvl lestat who came from this barren aristocracy dating back to the crusades, was key to lestat's long-term goals with louis.

Capital accrued from plantations of sugar and the blood of men who looked like my great grandfather but did not have his standing. But then decades of Jim Crow and the electrified light of a new century had vanquished any idea of a free man of color. - AMC IWTV 1x01

louis was of the first generations of the gens de couleur to be born, raised into, and face the institutional and personal ramifications of being viewed as black in america. this fuels much of the character's rage as he moves through storyville, trying to continue the similar modality of exploitation to the contrary of pretty baby with brooke shields, majority of the brothel circuit was statistically black girls + women being sexually pawned off to white men but ultimately failing to do so bc of the anglophone white american class that now rules over him. [tom anderson, alderman fenwick, finn o’shea starting out as louis’s subordinate then ending w/ him entering whiteness by having a sporting house throwing torches at louis’s brothel in s1e3]

By 1850, the free population of color, beset by the hostility of white supremacy, was economically diminished and residentially segregated. The Americanization of Louisiana, and in particular New Orleans, was completed before the state became the sixth to secede from the Union in 1861 in the struggle over the perpetuation of slavery. [link] The Democratic redeemers who came to power in 1877 lost no time in redefining the Negro's "place" in Louisiana life. They immediately restored the color line in the New Orleans public schools and offered silent support to de facto segregation practices in places of public accommodation. With the assistance of two landmark decisions by the United States Supreme Court, the redeemers soon dismantled the egalitarian legal apparatus put together piece by piece under the Radicals. Finally in 1890 they began to write their "final solution" into Louisiana law with a series of "separate but equal" statutes. Soon New Orleans Negroes were again segregated in virtually every public pursuit. [link]

[deadhands69]

A New End: Evolution

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Spoilers: EVERYTHING This series contains: gn/afab reader, angst, violence, mentions of blood/injuries, cussing, smut.

previous - this is part 7 - next

[series masterlist]

|\/\/\| evolution |/\/\/|

Out on the platform ahead of you, the League of Villains and Meta-Human Liberation Front merge to form the Paranormal Liberation Front. You stand in the dark, off stage.

It stings, a bit, watching everyone being publicly promoted like this while you’re stuck back here, but Tomura assured you it’s for a good reason. The moment people know how important you are in the planning process, they’ll start asking questions. If anyone finds out your quirk and its association with them, we lose the element of surprise. It’s not a stretch, especially considering that you went to UA so your quirk is already on record. Plus, on a boyfriend level, he’s not comfortable putting that massive of a target on your back for no logical reason. You’ll still be important in the decision making process, but no one needs to know about it. You understand and agree, but it’s still hard being here while they’re all there. It makes you feel left behind.

You head back to your room before the whole thing ends – you already know what’s going to happen. 

It’s been a strange week with your lives turned upside down. Not all of it is bad, like having access to better food. A lot could be better though. Nearly everyone is injured in some way, Tomura fairing the worst. Eri offered to heal his mangled hand, but she can’t control her quirk yet and he’s still worried he can’t either.  

Staying in a mansion has been comfortable. It’s nice to have warm showers and squishy beds, but the endless staircases are one thing that makes you miss the humble lodgings from before. Sure, you could take the elevator, but that would involve walking to the other end of the hallway then back when your room is on this side anyways. And it’s not very far. 

You’re on the third floor. Toga and Twice are one level down, last you saw they turned the hallway into a giant blanket fort – much to the dismay of the housekeeping staff who keep running out of extra blankets and pillows until Twice made more.

Dabi and Compress are one level up. You’re glad your room is under Dabi’s, who is surprisingly quiet, as opposed to Compresses, who you’ve been told practices his dance moves in the middle of the night.

Spinner is above them, down the hall from Eri. Initially you were in that room, but the two of you traded so they could play video games in the evenings. Tomura joins them sometimes, playing Stardew Valley with them until Eri's bedtime. After she’s tucked in for the night, he and Spinner switch to less kid-friendly games. Well, they try, Tomura has been struggling to use a controller after losing a few fingers, gaining a somewhat rigid prosthetic glove, and having his other hand mostly bandaged.

His room is on the next floor up.

You reach the final landing and you’re about to press through the double doors when the world starts spinning. It feels like your head is splitting open and you can barely keep yourself on your feet. Sliding down the wall behind you, you drop your forehead onto your knees. Your quirk crashes over you like a tidal wave, pulling you with it whether you like it or not. The visions. The overwhelming feelings of helplessness and grief. It's all so crushing. At this point, you just try to get through it. Your finger tips find the cold concrete ground as you try to center yourself. It comes in waves and you force yourself to memorize every detail of things you know will be too horrific to repeat later.

The episode is over as fast as it started, leaving you shaking and crying on the ground. The emotions linger, they always do. These are the worst you’ve ever experienced though.

You will yourself to move. 

Hands press into the floor. Knees shakily extend. Slowly, you stand on autopilot. It takes a moment to regain balance. Throwing one foot in front of the other, you make your way up the stairs to Tomura’s room. Afraid to stop moving, if you stop you know you won’t get up for a while again.

When you press through the final set of doors, he’s just arrived at his own door. He’s jiggling the lock to get the key to work. It looks awkward one handed on crutches.

“Tomur–” your voice fails you as you try to yell out to him.

He doesn’t see you, retreating into his room for the night. You stumble down the hallway as quickly as you can, catching the door as it’s about to click shut and shoving yourself through. 

At first he’s startled. Then, seeing the tears streaming down your face, he’s concerned.

“What’s–”

“You can’t!” you practically scream, “you can’t go! You can’t get that quirk!” It takes everything in you to hold it together enough to form legible sentences but you think you got the point across.

“Oh, that,” he speaks much quieter than you, not questioning how you already know. His voice sounds far too casual for what you know is coming. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you cry, feeling like a broken record. “You can’t.”

“It’s all I was ever supposed to do, I have to.” His voice is firmer now, lacking the wavering he used to have with emotions. “I have to, and I’m going to. This is all that was left for me, it would be stupid not to take it.”

“Forget about that, forget about all of it. You have to listen to me!”

“I heard you, now you have to listen to me too. This is the future for us, for all of us! It’s…it’s all there is! We need it!”

“You're getting so worked up over a future you won't even be in!” you practically scream, desperate for him to believe you even if you haven't found the words to express what you saw yet. 

“What? This is so stupid. It's the only way. This is it,” a streak of sadness cracks through his voice, “this is all there ever was for me. There’s nothing else.”

“That’s not true though,” you grab his arm, pleading with him. Everything in you wants to tell him how much you love him and never let him leave. You want so badly to make him listen, see what you see, but when your fingers touch his skin something weird happens. Your fingertips buzz at the contact and everything spins. In an instant, you're both lying collapsed on the floor with your grip still around his wrist.

For a split second, this terrifies you both. You're not sure if you forced future vision on him or pulled decay onto yourself. To be honest, you aren't sure if either of those are even possible, but the answer comes quickly enough. It's etched into his face: he definitely saw your visions. He saw everything. 

Tomura saw the pain he'd endure. Countless nights screaming in agony only for his dreams to be crushed to a pulp at the end. Finding out that his sensei has only been using him. It’s now plain to see that the one person he thought cared the most about him, the only one who ever saved him, only valued him as a warm anger-filled body. He now knows the source of everything bad in that house where he grew up.

Tomura saw himself dying. Crumbling into dust. Some of the others following similar fates. Spinner alone in a jail cell for the rest of his life while he’s stuck listening to everyone talking about how much they hated him. Watching people celebrate his death day every year. The resulting circle in all of it where nothing changes in the end. All the hate and bitterness for nothing. On top of that, he knows these feelings were handed to him and that they will only keep growing for as long as he feeds them. That everything he could ever destroy in this world will never make up for what he's been through. And he feels it viscerally in every cell in his body. 

Everything floods in all at once. 

It's overwhelming. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” Tomura shoves past you, crawling through the bathroom door in a stumble. 

Half an hour later, the two of you are still sitting in silence on the floor by his bed. He’s pale, more so than usual, and shakier than you. You get him a glass of water, leaving it by his side. With a hand on his shoulder, you try to be reassuring but know nothing can make this better.

“For what it’s worth, you didn’t do anything to deserve any of this.”

He nods.

You leave him with his thoughts for now. It's a lot to process. Besides, you need to find Dabi. Bracing yourself for a rough evening, you walk two floors down. Tomura isn’t the only one who deserves to know what their future holds.

That night, you return to your plushy bed in the villa. Comfort feels wrong in a time like this.

The conversation with Dabi was much faster, he immediately accepted it and simply joked that he needs to "burn harder then." You could tell by the look in his eyes seeing his family joining around him in his last months stirred something in him, but you're not about to mention it.

As for tonight, you can't sleep.

Tomura has been up all night, mind changing every two minutes. You know because you see the future vividly flash in front of your eyes like the worst kind of fever dream. The kind where you're stuck watching him die repeatedly along with everyone else. At around four am, you consider texting him but what are you supposed to say, “stop thinking?” The next few hours pass before you eventually give up on sleep entirely and get up. Tomura texts you as you’re leaving for breakfast.

When you arrive at his room in the morning, you didn't expect to be pulled into one of your meetings. With two cups of coffee in hand, you awkwardly kick the door to knock. He opens, gesturing you in.

“Let's fix this,” he says, immediately bringing you to sit by him on the floor. For the first time, you’re seeing him in pajamas. You've always wondered what that would be like, but never thought you'd see it in this context. It’s cute, he looks cozy in a beat-up sort of way. His hair is crazy with sleep and he is too with a lack of it. Judging by the massive bags under his eyes, you could have guessed that he stayed up all night even without the full night of visions you had but he’s in much better spirits than you expected. You’re unsure how someone could process that much so quickly so you make a point not to ask too many questions yet. Fortunately, he doesn’t want to talk about it either. Instead, he thought up some plans going forward and is now choosing to make a decision based on what you can show him. 

Tomura is beginning to learn what you've known for ages: sometimes there are a lot of bad ways for things to go and very few good endings.

He’s also learning how exhausting your quirk is.

“Is this what you deal with all the time?” he asks, sitting to face you while your hand rests on his arm, just above the bandaged area. 

“Sometimes, usually people don't change their plans this quickly. Also, most of the time I can tune it out. You get used to it.”

“Oh,” he rubs his eyes, “still. It's almost nauseating.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

The two of you sit like this on the floor for over an hour. Some endings are just cut and dry bad. Others end poorly but give you good information going forward. 

You learn that the League of Villains isn't the safest place to raise a kid, which you all probably assumed already. None of you are equipped to teach Eri quirk control which shows itself to be very important in all of your visions. Switching to plans that keep her safe becomes a priority quickly, even if it means she can't always stay with you. 

A lot comes out in your visions about UA, the hero commission, and how they might not always be the best for keeping kids safe either. You experienced this to an extent with your time in school, but these prophecies are on another level. Considering the amount of UA students you've seen die in the last hour, they could definitely do better. 

On a more interesting (but maybe less useful) note, you learn that the hero Tomura thinks is cool, Erasurehead, was the best friend of the man who raised him. It makes a lot of sense to you but he's not sure how he feels about that yet. 

“Again,” he keeps saying, before making small changes to each of the plans. 

It's even more tiring, having only just learned to use your quirk like this. Plus, having to watch everyone you care about die horrifically over and over again in different ways has a tendency to get to you. 

“I need a break,” you say, pulling your hand from his arm after a particularly bad vision of Toga sacrificing herself to a violent death in order to save Twice. 

“Soon, just a few more.”

“Fine,” you say, pressing a hand to his skin again before sliding fully on the floor to lay down and close your eyes. 

He rushes through ideas quickly, switching as soon as he sees them go awry. Just as you're about to drift off he exclaims. 

“Wait, that one!” 

“Huh?” you say groggily, half feeling like they've all been swirling into a dream. 

“There it is again,” he thinks through it, wincing slightly at some clips of future memories before getting to the part he wants. “That. That's possible?”

“I wouldn't see it if it wasn't,” you mumble half to the floor, “that's how this works.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you sit up, “of course.”

“Huh,” he pauses, looking surprised. “I didn't think it could be that good. Can you replay it?”

“No, I'm not YouTube.”

“I want to see that again. The end. I want,” he goes quiet, choosing his next words carefully. “I want to live that. That's what I want.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, “you saw what it takes from everyone to get there, right?”

“Yeah, I saw it. I don’t like some parts, but what else is there? We've been trying to come up with something for almost two hours and no one makes it out alive.” Now he’s the one who sounds desperate for you to understand, to see what he needs to happen. It’s nice not being alone in it, for once. 

“I know it’s not perfect and it won’t be good for a while, but it's better than I thought it could ever be. For everyone. And that’s worth it. That’s the world I want to create.” His deep red eyes find yours, intensely. “Besides, I can’t let anyone here die or go to prison and you don't want me killing those kids. It's the only way.”

You agree.

next part - a new end masterlist - bnha masterlist

Taglist: @tomuratoucher @aryuunachigiri @foxyboy0 @shigarakislaughter @dance-with-me-in-hell

@minniessskii @vaval3ntin @ykyouluvme @dummi666 @lotus-flower420

@nonominchan @softnfuzzy @mysticalhills @reireitaka @crwavee

@baby-pink-flowers @drlucichen @frieren-imposter @lou-the-naga-queen @multifandomidk

@love-for-yoosung-kim @kitkat13001 @kennys-partner @amira-44820 @its-evee16

[ane33mone]

In defense of Bix:

While I’m not one to normally actively join fandom discussion regarding characters, Andor has taken over my whole life, so I wanted to add my thoughts on Bix and the direction that her character was taken in in S2Ep9. (obvious spoilers ahead for Andor S2)

I have seen some opinions floating around that Bix’s entire character was ruined by S2, that she should have done more for the rebellion (or didn’t do anything at all), and that her final decision to leave Cassian fell into the standard cliche of ‘woman deciding to leave a man so he can save the world’ type of trope. I personally see Bix’s final decision as her ultimate contribution to the rebellion. Leaving the rebellion is for her as much a sacrifice as “officially” joining the rebellion is for Mon.

At the start of S1 Bix is already actively helping the rebels. It’s one of the first things we learn about her. It is actually through Bix (albeit indirectly) that Cassian first comes into contact with the rebels, with the end result of him fleeing Ferrix along with Luthen. As we all know, in the wake of this, Bix ultimately gets arrested by the ISB and tortured for any and all information she might have on the rebels. This experience will leave Bix scarred, broken, deeply traumatized. This is something that is established and explored in the first half of S2. We see her experiencing nightmares and other trauma-related symptoms. In eps 4-6 it is mentioned that Bix and Cassian actually go on missions together for Luthen (which means that Bix is very much contributing actively to the rebellion), but due to Bix’s worsening mental state, she’s had to sit out a few missions. It is also made very obvious in these episodes that Cassian does not want to be separated from Bix. This gets to the point where he breaks all rules to confront Luthen in the shop about the latter visiting Bix without mentioning it to Cassian. Now, Luthen’s dubious actions left aside, this is already a very clear sign that to Cassian, Bix and her wellbeing stand above everything. Even the rebellion.

Back to Bix, at the end of ep6 she gets her revenge and kills her tormentor. It is not only a way for her to deal with her trauma, it is also something that ensures that no one will have to suffer as she did at the hands of this man. To me it seemed that while in the episodes 4-6 we most obviously see Bix’s struggle with her trauma, there is also a real anger underneath it all. This anger became more obvious in the episodes 7-9. Bix wants to beat the empire, or at least die trying. To Cassian she comes before everything, before the rebellion. But to Bix nothing comes before the rebellion. She’s experienced first hand how cruel the empire is to everyday people, and she knows that nothing will stop the Empire from doing this again and again unless they are stopped. 

Then, Cassian tells her he wants to leave. He’s done. He wants to run away with her to a place in the galaxy where the empire hasn’t sunken its claws in too deeply yet. Now, at this point Bix might already know she is pregnant, she might not. Either way, it's a tempting offer: to start a family and live with the man she loves in peace. Only, she knows that there will be no peace. No place is safe from the empire as long as it stands. They might live in peace for a while, but inevitably the empire will extend its influence and it will be the everyday people that will suffer the most. 

Bix knows and believes that Cassian’s role in the rebellion is not done yet. He is a messenger, as the force healer said, and he has yet to complete this task. Yet Cassian is unable to accept this, because he sees this possibility of a future with Bix. Bix, who, to him, comes before everything. So, Bix makes a decision. She might want this future with Cassian, but she knows that this is not possible as long as he has not completed his role, as long as the empire is still standing. Bix might want to stay and fight against the empire, because to her that is the most important thing right now, but she realizes that her ultimate contribution to the rebellion lies elsewhere: if she stays, she will not be able to resist Cassian’s offer to leave, and she knows that he has to stay. So, she will leave the rebellion on her own.

Bix is the one who first delivers Cassian to the rebels, just as she is the one who will get him to stay with the rebels when it matters most. She sacrifices her desire to fight against the empire for the rebellion. She chooses to leave, and live somewhere as far away from the conflict as possible, all with the hope that with Cassian staying, the rebellion will have a bigger chance at succeeding. As much as she might wish that she could fight for the rebellion, her leaving is, perhaps, her greatest contribution to it.

Now, this is how I personally interpreted Bix’s character arc. Are there things that could have been handled a bit better? Probably. It is okay to disagree with me. The beauty of a well written show like Andor is that it can be interpreted in various ways. There are also more dimensions to Bix’s arc (especially regarding her trauma, and her journey with that), but if I added that, this post would have gotten even longer. It is already ridiculously, embarrassingly, long. 

Anyway, if you’ve read this far: thank you! I hope this made some sense lol.

[phoenixyfriend]

I was turning over @threebea's Snow White in my head and I got to the question of What's Up With Ahsoka, and started coming up with with an offshoot of the main fic and sent the whole ramble to Bea.

At least a few things match canon timeline, because the twins exist, so I'm thinking Ahsoka plausibly still had a Wrong Jedi arc and ran off to find herself, later getting picked up by Bo-Katan. (I assume Satine is dead, or she'd have been mentioned at some point.) And Bo's been fucking around at the edges of the various empires trying to decide what she wants to do with herself, Ahsoka on her ship (and occasionally in her bed because they're both about twenty and stressed and sometimes that means destress sex).

So they hear about the Cin'Ciri thing going on, and Ahsoka's freaking out, and that... makes Bo's decision for her.

Once she meets with Jaster & co, Bo makes the argument that Ahsoka left the Jedi half a year before shit went down, and has been a good friend to Bo-Katan (though we can't use the canon of 'a friend to Mandalore' but maybe Maul was fucking around on Kalevala in particular and Jaster was too busy to get involved there, so Bo still had some shit to do), so she shouldn't be memory-wiped like the others. Jaster is considering letting Ahsoka integrate more normally instead of forcing a mind-wipe, especially since Bo-Katan declares that she'd marry Ahsoka on the spot if it meant Ahsoka gets to make a real decision here.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka wants to meet the other Jedi, even though they don't consider themselves Jedi anymore, and none of them recognize her, and there's a moment where she just goes "Master Obi-Wan?" and he doesn't know her but there is a technically-still-a-teenager in tears that cares about him a lot so he offers a hug and she ends up sobbing on him because Duh.

And they talk a bit, about what the memory thing did to all the surviving Jedi that have made their way into Mando space, and Ahsoka says that if none of the other Jedi can keep their remembrances, and she may have the option of doing so, then she will keep those remembrances. Everyone's. She will do the mourning, build little shrines and say the names of the dead.

Something something that 'Ahsoka the White' look with the robe and shakujo is a Priestess look that develops as she makes a place for herself as the memory-keeper for the Jedi.

A new part of the Cin'Ciri cin'vhetin process could be that people give her the names they want to immortalize and she carves them into that shrine she keeps (though Jaster has banned anyone from entering to see those names, except her and certain non-Jedi guards) so that someone can do the mourning for them?

IDK I just have this bouncing around in my head because of Ahsoka's specific relationship to the Jedi and Mandalore in S7, and Bo-Katan in particular.

Bo is very Feline Protection Energy about her wife.

Obi-Wan doesn't know Ahsoka but given that he and Quinlan rebuilt a friendship I imagine he's more than willing to at least put some effort into trying to make something new?

I think Ahsoka avoids the details of how close they were at first, just says she was his grandpadawan, but Bo-Katan butts in and tells Obi-Wan that Ahsoka's the closest thing he's got to a daughter so he better at least make an attempt.

Jaster doesn't want to kill Bo-Katan because she's a great stabilizing force for certain elements due to her relation to Satine, but for fuck's sake is she annoying to him personally.

Idk if Jaster would allow it but maybe Bo-Katan lies and backdates her "marriage" and kicks up such a fuss about how he can't do the Cin'Vhetin to someone who married in before it was even protocol that he just gives up on dealing with the problem that is Bo-Katan Kryze.

Bea:

Oooo I love this. Yeah I left it ambiguous for Satine. Tor ruled (I think) up until the beginning of the clonewars (maybe a little earlier idk) so I think either he got her or Maul got her still sadly. I definitely think Bo's argument of she was already married to a Mandalorians would work. Jaster isn't pleased but by then the process is more in the Cin'ciri's hands anyway and Obi-Wan is very interested in another way to reassure people going through the process that their dead will be remembers and carried over. Oh boy Quinlan absolutely asks Ahsoka if she knew his padawan. And if they're dead. Ahsoka: I'll remember them for you Quinlan: You're like Kenobi, aren't you. Answering without answering. Jango is suspicious of Ahsoka at first (especially because of the connection to Obi-Wan) but he mellows a bit when he sees she's taking away some of Obi-Wan's guilt and stress for being the one taking the memories now. Jango maybe knew what happened to Satine, and Bo's opinion of Ahsoka does carry some weight there too (unless he knows she was connected to deathwatch at any point). I figure with the Jedi they don't recognise each other but there is some recognition in the force. I can imagine it's hard for Ahsoka and helps her in a strange way because Obi-Wan disappointed her, but she knows she also disappointed him and she has to let it go in favour of a relationship with this new Obi-Wan who is both the exact same and different. She sees Luke and thinks Anakin is dead. Didn't know Padme was pregnant but Luke is two and his eye colour matches and Obi-Wan tells her he was his last mission. Heh and maybe she has met Bail and that's where she heard about this because Bail is keeping tabs and feels so guilty about letting Fett take Obi-Wan. Maybe Bail actually told her a tiny bit about the twins since Obi-Wan and Yoda are dead. Well Yoda is and Obi-Wan doesn't remember. I completely forgot but the aesthetics for the new Order is totally lots of white 😂 More Mandalorians style though, and some wear armour. Light so they can move easily with their lightsabers. So Ahsoka in the Ahsoka the white garb totally works. Ahsoka absolutely adds Satine to the shrine for Bo and Obi-Wan. The clones too. There's something very sad that that relationship isn't something the Jedi think they might have lost. From their POV the clones just killed them so they couldn't have cared about them and if they had it must have been a trick. Only a few people know about the chips (Jango will have to change that Quinlan can't be the only one wanting to go after the perceived murderers of the Jedi)

Bo: This is my Jedi wife and I LOVE HER Jango: Shut up you're like twelve

Jaster views Bo as an unfortunately deadly kitten

What if you were forced to forget your Kryze partner what then Jaster? Checkmate.

[disclaimer: Bea and I both love the idea of Jaster and Duke Kryze having had a thing that may have been at or near marriage at some point]

Fighting with your stepdad about whether he approves of your hippy-dippy neopagan wife is just Thanksgiving dinner norms, right?

(In this case the neopagan is a joke about Ahsoka's demigod pet owl that kind of just shows up wherever)

Bo-Katan:

Jaster who was like: well Jango is not interested in people like that I'm not gonna have to deal with these kinds of issues Son: This is my Jedi I'm gonna marry Step daughter: We're already married and if anything happens to her I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself. Jaster: you're my favorite now Boba: ? Boba: wait I don't want another dad Boba: I already have two (Jaster is basically just another dad at this point) Boba comes around on it though. I feel like Boba is treated like a student/padawan at first which he is way more comfortable with Vader: want do you mean he has children!?!? Rwaaargh

Ahsoka: Wait we're married? Bo-Katan, lying: Uh, yes. Jaster: Did you not explain the marriage process before having her say vows? Did you TRICK her into marrying you? Bo-Katan, who is not married at all: No, I think we just have different definitions of marriage and had a translation issue. Ahsoka: But I thought I was doing well with my Mando'a lessons and-- Bo: Girl, shut up

Also Rex can be there. Third-wheeling for the lesbians.

Rex, not a Jedi: no issues Also looks like Jango and Jaster can't say no to that face literally Rex: I've heard there's been talk of helping my brothers. I want in. Bo: this is my wife Ahsoka and her boyfriend Rex.

Ahsoka, doing math lady face: Rex, are we dating? Rex, who only sort of understands dating: We… spend a lot of time together?

Obi-Wan's happy to call Ahsoka his daughter, but if Jango tries to adopt her for shared custody like he did with the boys, she WILL fight him.

Bo-Katan will also fight him don't make her wife into her step-niece, Jango, that's WEIRD

I imagine Bo and Jango developed the cat relationship where one will just attack the other to keep them on their toes and then they'll walk away as if nothing happened Obi-Wan: she tried to stab you Jango: but she didn't! Close though. Think she can dodge a flamethrower? Obi-Wan: Do not flame thrower people in my halls! Ahsoka: … So…? Bo: Cain instinct

Ahsoka wants to babysit Luke which is fine but Bo-Katan is very bad at children. There are so many fluids involved in Baby.

Bo: I got him a present. Ahsoka: what is it? Bo: a knife! Ahsoka: no! Ahsoka: holding a baby isn't hard I promise, here- no you need to support the head-and the rest of him! Not like that! Ahsoka: you can hold him in his car seat.

Boba is a lot easier to manage. Just bully him. Make him hang out with Rex for maximum awkward.

She can do teenager teenager is just gangly adult

She's only barely not a teenager herself

Bo: Well since Boba is older I think he should pick the holovid. Then takes a step back Rex also trying to dodge any sort of familification: I am a friend and associate no one is my dad! Jango: oh thank Manda Jaster: :/ (but we have a responsibility) Rex: You know what Obi-Wan is my dad. Actually probably the closest I ever came to having one Obi-Wan: why am I everyone's dad? Bo: has he met Korkie? Jkjk Rex: well Anakin wasn't my dad and Obi-Wan was Anakin's dad so…

Obi-Wan: Who's Anakin Ahsoka: [bursts into tears]

You're dad-shaped, Obi-Wan.

Just imagining Bo constantly draping herself over Ahsoka, or pulling her into Bo's lap and caging her like a constrictor, glaring at passing Mandos who disapprove of the memory-keeping Jedi.

Hiss 😂 Ahsoka: (can easily protect herself but… Pat pat?) Bo: ♥️

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma  started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine!

So, I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of his band during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors usually don’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup, all accompanied by a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in my chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean to…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what?" I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and Josh knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time, as if there was something he was still hiding from me. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy.

Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed on the couch, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Martin probably knew it too, and that's why his willingness to help Josh with his brother was practically nonexistent. Yet another reason for me to be annoyed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on. I checked if the jerk was still breathing – just in case – before I went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. It made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back on the couch immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me again.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I could, Jake still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching me, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again, and I did all I could to hide that it actually hurt. To be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just hadn't been interested in anyone else for a while now. I don't know what was worse, whether him thinking that I slept around, or my painfully real sexual frustration.

I did have some spare toothbrushes, though. For me.

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles of dough in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

He... what? “Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[djarinsyndulla]

I already know people are gonna claim The Acolyte is making the Jedi out to be bad guys after episode 7 but honestly it’s very clear the entire situation on Brendok was a more grey situation than black or white.

In the end, yes it was the Jedi’s fault for what happened to the coven. But the episode made it clear it was all a massive misunderstanding that led to disaster. Sol cares too much, and that got the better of him. Torbin was young and restless, sick of doing basically nothing on a seemingly uninhabited planet and couldn’t understand the point of the mission and how they were doing anything of value; he was stir crazy and wanted to go home. Indara was trying her best to keep everyone rational and didn’t even want to take the children.

But the witches weren’t all 100% innocent either. Mother Koril encouraged the dark side and anger in Mae, which led to Mae starting the fire. Koril also clearly said she would rather die than have her children taken from her, and was already gathering other witches to go against Mother Aniseya’s decision and fight the Jedi.

In the end though, both groups didn’t have sinister intentions. The Jedi were genuinely concerned for the twins because they did not understand their coven and culture - and when Mae tried to explain it to them, the way she worded it did make it sound like the witches were going to kill and sacrifice the twins. The coven just wanted to keep their children and not see Osha go off and never return, but Mother Aniseya was going to allow Osha to go because it was her desire and Aniseya chose to be a mother at the end of the day. The Jedi have never encountered these witches before, so when a distressed Mae (who Sol thought was Osha) ran to her mother for help with the fire and Aniseya turned into black smoke - Sol and the other Jedi had no idea she was actually just teleporting; Sol thought Osha was asking him for help and safety from the witches, when in reality it was Mae telling her mom Osha was in trouble and Mother Aniseya was going to teleport to help Osha. Mother Aniseya’s death is when Sol realizes everything was a misunderstanding and he let his emotions override everything; instead of Aniseya being this evil, dark sided witch who he believed was harming the children, Aniseya was a devoted and loving mother. That’s why he didn’t fight back when Koril went at him.

Then of course the death of their leader led to chaos, and the witches controlling Kelnacca to avenge their leader and protect their children. When Indara broke the connection, she would have had no idea that action would kill the entire coven, because again the Jedi were ignorant of the coven’s culture and ideals and especially how they use the force.

But anyway yeah, I really enjoyed this episode and how it was very much not black and white. It was all a misunderstanding from both parties. It also makes sense now why Torbin would willingly take the poison - he was the first one to jump into action and go to get the twins.

[tateypots]

To Keep You Safe Part 3

18+ Minors DNI

Summary: You start to form a plan to rescue the captured girls before you and Joel make the most of your last night together before the mission.

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: Joel Miller x Female reader. Smut, kissing, spanking, oral (f receiving), tit play, unprotected piv, daddy kink, dirty talk. No actual violence but discussion of cannon typical threat and weapons. No use of y/n, reader has a vagina and tits and can be lifted by Joel but no other descriptors.

Part 2 | Part 4 | Series Masterlist

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Maria nodded decisively, immediately switching into planning mode. “We’ll need to get the council’s agreement. Leave that to me, shouldn’t be a problem, those bastards clearly pose a threat to Jackson. I’ll push for use of a couple of trucks, we need to get to those girls as quickly as we can. We’ll need volunteers to go and we’ll need to make sure we’re leaving behind enough protection for Jackson, we still have a responsibility to the people here, can’t leave them fully exposed. Tommy, you look at the patrol rosters and see who would be best to go and who to stay. You two,” she said wagging her finger between you and Ellie, “you see if you can muster up volunteers from anyone not on the patrol roster, sure to be some in town who will want to help who can hold their own. Joel, think you could map out the town from their description?” He gave her a curt nod before she continued, “good, we’ll need to make a plan of attack, we’re no good to anyone if we rush in and get ourselves killed. Right lets get to it. Tell everyone who agrees to come we’ll meet in the hall at 7am tomorrow to finalise plans.” With that she stood and rushed out the door.

“She’s something else ain’t she?” breathed Tommy, the pride clear on his face. You couldn’t blame him, you were a little in awe of her yourself.

“Tommy, I think I have a crush on your wife,” Ellie chuckled as they moved towards the door prompting him to grab her into a playful headlock. “Hands off squirt, she’s mine!” He released her as they reached the front door, clambering over your clothes littering the entryway, calling back, “you two need to clean up in here, fuckin’ slobs!” before departing, laughing at himself as Ellie followed him out.

Alone again, Joel pulled you into a tight embrace, seeking comfort in your warmth. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you wound your arms around his middle, slipping one hand under his t-shirt in search of the soothing touch of his skin.

“You ok baby?” He whispered gently in your ear.

“I think it should be me asking you that,” you replied as you nuzzled into him further.

“It’s been a rough week,” he admitted, “I just…I wish we could have saved those girls you know. They were scared of me. I – I was so angry at the thought of those fuckers trying to put their hands on you and Ellie, maybe if I’d been calmer –”

“Joel no, don’t do that,” you interrupted him, aching at seeing him so upset, knowing another boulder of guilt had been added to the mountain he already carried. Bringing your hands up to cup his face, forcing his sad eyes to meet yours, “you did everything you could. Those girls would have been terrified either way, you know that. And there’s no way you could have known that’s what would happen. We’ll get the others out. We’ll save them, ok?” He nodded, clutching you tightly to him as you kissed the tears from his cheeks. He leaned down to slot his mouth over yours, kissing you so sweetly, so gently that you thought your heart might burst with the love you felt for him. You knew you’d never pull that mountain down but you could at least help him bear the load.

The back door opened behind you, “ugh, will you two give it a rest,” a disgusted Ellie scolded.

You broke away from Joel’s lips to tell her, “no, never,” before pressing your lips back to his, chuckling against them as she made fake puke noises behind you. You pulled away again before placing one final quick kiss to his lips then turned to face her.

“Whatever, Joel I brought you some drawing supplies for your map,” she said throwing the pad and pencils she’d brought down on the dining table. “Now if you two can prise yourselves away from each other for 5 minutes we have work to do, lets go.” She turned on her heel and marched back out the way she came, clearly expecting you to follow.

You glanced back up at him, wanting nothing more than to stay here, to comfort and reassure him, but he pushed you towards the door listing off a reel of names he thought you should try first, people he knew were capable and would likely be willing to help. He saw you off with kiss to the crown of your head and a firm pat to your backside as you took off in a jog to catch up with Ellie.

You shoulder bumped her when you finally drew level with her. “Sorry for all the lovey dovey stuff, just glad to have him back you know.”

“Ha, like you weren’t like that before he went missing,” she teased, “but it’s ok though, I mean, you know I still think it’s gross, but I’m glad you’re both happy. And I’m glad he’s with someone I actually get on with. I’d take watching you two make out over having to sit through another dinner with Esther any day.”

“Yeah Esther is the worst,” you agree remembering the campaign of hatred she had launched against you when you and Joel first got together, determined to split you up and win him back. It had all blown up in her face and now she thankfully kept a wide berth of you both.

“Joel suggested we ask Eddie, Brett, Laura and Phil. And I know Ruth is good with a gun.”

“Libby would be good, she’s not done patrols but I know she worked guard duty and can shoot. And Andy and Paul might be persuaded.”

“Right. So we can probably cross most of them off with a trip to the Bison.”

“Yep, to the Bison!”

The bar was packed when you arrived, you spotted Eddie, Laura and Phil over in the back corner and two tables away Libby, Ruth and Andy were playing cards. Making your way over to them you fielded questions from various other patrons on Joel and Tommy’s wellbeing, their disappearance had been the talk of Jackson for the past week. You knew most of the questions came from a desire for gossip rather than true concern so you gave reassurances that they were both well and happy to be back and left it at that. The rumour mill would be in overdrive soon enough without you fanning the flames now. And you wanted to make sure Maria had enough time to make the case with the council before some of the more insular residents could start complaining about the resources being diverted away from Jackson.

Reaching their table, you apologised to Libby, Ruth and Andy for interrupting and asked for a minute of their time. Intrigued they followed you over to the others. Your position in the corner and the noise of the busy bar gave you confidence you wouldn’t be overheard. They gathered round the small table as you and Ellie imparted the tale of Joel and Tommy’s absence and outlined your intention to go and rescue the girls being held captive.

Thankfully none of them needed any persuading to join you. You told them to meet you at 7am the next morning and instructed them to keep quiet until then. They nodded their understanding and broke away to go and start preparing.

Back out in the street Ellie asked, “split up for the final two?”

“Yep,” you agreed, “I’ll head to Paul’s, you go to Brett’s, meet back at home when we’re done?”

She nodded and set off at a brisk pace as you turned and headed off the other way.

When you made it home after a hasty visit to Paul’s, Joel was at the dining table with Tommy pouring over the drawing Joel had done of the town.

“Easiest entry routes would be here and here.”

“Need to be careful though, if they get behind us we’d be blocked in. What about up here, bit trickier to get in unnoticed but leaves us with an exit if things go south.”

There was something about seeing Joel like this, so focused, strategizing, so in control, it sent tingles through your body. Releasing a shaky breath you gave yourself a shake and forced yourself to swallow your arousal. When you got to the table though, Joel grabbed you around the middle and pulled you in front of him, caging you between himself and the dining table, leaving you giddy. He gave you a small kiss on the temple before switching his attention back to the drawing. Peering over your shoulder with one arm still locked around your waist, he used his other hand to point at a square drawn at one end.

“They said this one is two story, and isn’t used for much, could be a good place for a sniper or two, give the rest of us cover,” giving you both a pointed look.

“That could work,” Tommy agreed, “if it’s just two of us we could sneak in easier and get situated before the main assault.”

“Might be best if we took a third to stand guard for us, that way we can keep our focus on what’s happening on the ground,” you suggested, no doubt in your mind that you would be the second sniper. Tommy had been training you ever since you’d impressed him with your skills when you first arrived in Jackson, and although he still had a slight edge, there wasn’t much between you now. Tommy was a good teacher.

“Good idea. So you two in here with a third to act as lookout. How many volunteers did you get?”

“7 so far, Libby, Andy, Paul, Ruth, Eddie, Laura and Phil. Ellie went to Brett’s, she should be back soon.”

“Ok and I got 6 from the patrol roster.”

“Ok so with us that’s 18, 19 if Brett comes.”

“I think the party that goes in to get the girls should be made up of women, might help them feel safer,” Joel said pointing at the square on the opposite side of the drawing, signalling where the girls were likely being held. You gave Joel’s arm a squeeze, knowing the pain that had driven his suggestion.

“That’s a good idea baby, Ellie and Maria?

“Agreed. But with another group to clear and hold the building.”

The back door swung open and Ellie entered followed by Maria.

“Brett has the flu and can’t come. He’s pretty pissed about not being able to help.”

“Ok so 18 against 23, not bad. Especially if we catch em’ by surprise. How’d you get on with the council Maria?”

“They signed off. Gave us use of two of the trucks. Wasn’t a hard sell, they can be pains in the ass sometimes but they’re decent people.”

You spent the next 30 minutes sketching out a rough plan before Ellie headed back to the garage, Maria and Tommy following her out to go home and start preparing. While you began to pack up some food for the journey Joel pulled out your packs and sleeping bags before finally clearing the mess of clothes from the entryway, left abandoned since the morning.

When Joel came out of the small laundry room back into the kitchen he found you furiously scrubbing the worktops. Well versed in your nervous cleaning proclivities he marches over to you to steal the scrubber from your hands, throwing it back in the sink.

“Hey!” you growled at him.

“Nope, we ain’t doing this tonight,” he told you, grabbing both your hands in his. “Take a deep breath baby and then tell me all the things swirling round that head of yours. Get it all out.”

You looked up at him sheepishly, biting your bottom lip before starting to ramble, “I’m scared Joel. Not for myself. For you and Ellie and Tommy and Maria. I know we have to do this and I want to but this is different to patrols. I’ve gone up against other groups before, before Jackson I mean, but that feels like another lifetime. And it was never on this kind of scale and it was always a shit show. And it’s different now. I have so much more to lose and if anything happens to you, to our family, I –“

“Hey, hey, come here,” he said pulling you into his chest, “honestly baby, it scares me too. The thought of something happenin’ to any o’ you, it’s unbearable. But going together does give us an advantage. We know each other. Inside and out. We know each other’s strengths, what we’re capable of. So we plan what we can and if things change, we adjust and keep goin’. There’s no buncha people I’d rather have at my back.”

You let out a huge exhale and slump against his body, some of the tension leaving you. Your fears haven’t disappeared but they seem easier to bare knowing that Joel feels it too. And knowing that he trusts you to have his back, has faith in your abilities, well that makes your heart swell more than any whispered words of adoration could.

“I’d follow you anywhere, you know that right?” you ask, propping your chin on his chest and looking up at him.

“I know baby. And I know better than to ask you to sit this out but you know there’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”

“I know,” you murmur, your head falling against his chest once more letting the beat of his heart lull and calm you. You know how lucky you are. To have found a love like this at the end of the world, to have someone who wants to protect you with his whole being but would never dream of stifling or smothering you. Who sees your strengths and celebrates them wholeheartedly, knows your weaknesses and helps you navigate around them. And you do the same for him. In a transactional world of self-preservation, you had against all odds found a true partner. He’s right. You are stronger together.

You feel the vibration of his humming through his chest before the sound reaches your ears. He starts to rock you back and forth as you recognise the tune he’s serenading you with. Your song. The one that kick started your whole relationship when you danced together at the Harvest festival over a year and half ago. You can’t hold back the smile as you lace your hands behind his neck and lean back to look up at him again, a crooked smile adorning his face too, eyes twinkling as he looks back at you. He leans his forehead against yours as he switches from his gentle hum to sing the words to you:

“Take my hand.

Take my whole life too.

For I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You can’t stop yourself from reaching up to pull his lips down to yours, releasing a contented sigh the second you connect, his soft lips on yours and his strong arms tight around your waist driving out any lingering tension, reminding you not to dwell on tomorrow, to focus on what you have right now. For the last week you have ached at his absence and now he is here, safe in your arms. Tomorrow you both leave to put yourselves in danger again. So you won’t let your anxiety steal tonight from you. You’ll treasure every moment you have.

The kisses rapidly turn needy as he’s swiping his tongue against your lips, begging for entrance that is immediately granted. His tongue entwines with yours as you revel in the taste of him, something so uniquely Joel with a faint hint of the whiskey from earlier. You’re both panting when you break the kiss, still clinging tightly to each other.

“You feeling better pretty girl?”

“Yes baby, thank you.”

He grabbed a handful of your ass before planting a swift spank on the right cheek. “Good, now, get your sexy ass upstairs, I got a week’s worth of missed lovin’ to make up for.”

You bite your lip, smirking up at him as your hand trails down his back to give his ass a firm pinch before booking it across the room towards the stairs, giggling at his yelp of surprise. He’s on you in seconds, spinning you round to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you up the stairs, spanking you again for good measure.

“So that’s how you want to play it huh?”

“I couldn’t help myself Daddy, I’m not the only one with a sexy ass,” you chuckled, giving his ass a quick smack in retaliation as he enters your bedroom.

You expect him to throw you onto the bed but instead he turns and sits on the edge and gently deposits you on your feet between his spread thighs.

“Take off your clothes baby, let Daddy see you.”

You take a moment to admire him as he looks up at you, basking in his lustful gaze before ever so slowly inching your t-shirt up, watching as his eyes track every inch of skin as it is revealed to him. You pull it up and over your head and throw it at his chest. He makes no attempt to catch it. It falls to the floor between his spread legs as his hands reach out to grab your waist, the need to be connected to you overwhelming every other urge and instinct. You lean forward and give him a sweet little peck on the lips before straightening back up and turning around, his hands skimming the soft skin of your midriff, never breaking contact. You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your sweatpants and panties and slowly start to push them down your legs. You feel his hands slide from your waist to your hips as you bend over, keeping your legs straight to put your ass and pussy on display for him.

He lands another stinging slap to your ass cheek revelling in the ripple of the fleshy globe before grabbing a fistful of your flesh in each hand and pulling you into to him with a growl, burying his face in your soft folds. His tongue is on you immediately, insistent on your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking before giving it a hard suck. He licks from your clit up to your entrance, circling the tight little hole, teasing you before plunging in, desperate for every drop of your arousal he can swallow down. You moan and gasp for air, overcome by the ferocity of Joel’s desire. You reach out one hand to the night stand to steady yourself, the other searching behind you and latching around Joel’s thick forearm. His hand immediately leaves your ass and grabs your forearm in return, giving it a quick squeeze in reassurance. His unwavering care for you, the way he recognises and reacts to all of your needs has always left you weak for him, in this moment it sends another wave of arousal into his waiting mouth and draws an ungodly noise from the back of your throat. His tongue never stops, fucking into you mercilessly driving you ever closer to your peak. His other hand leaves your ass and snakes around your front and between your legs. He finds your clit immediately and rubs in small circles with the pads of his index and middle finger.

You come with a cry, your legs tremble and you list forward, your knees giving out under the pressure of the pleasure racing through you. Joel catches you, his strong arms wrapped around your middle as he pulls you backwards onto the bed, cradling you against him, your back held tight to his chest. He softly kisses up your neck as your breathing and heart rate return to normal and the clouds dissipate from your brain. He strokes up your arm and murmurs praise in your ear.

“So fuckin’ tasty baby. So fuckin’ sweet, could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day for the rest of my life and never get bored.”

You whimper at his dirty words, wriggling in his arms until you’re facing him and pulling him in to a deep kiss. You taste yourself mixed with his inherent Joel flavour, you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it.

He reaches behind you and unhooks your bra, pulling it from your body as he pulls away from your lips, pushing you onto your back to bury his face between your exposed tits as his hands come up to grab them. You’d always been faintly amused by his obsession with your tits, that you had the ability to render this big, powerful man into a needy, mewling mess with just a flash of your chest, but you couldn’t deny how much it turned you on seeing how feral he got at the sight of them, the animalistic need in him giving rise to the same in you, leaving your pussy throbbing and aching for him.

He licks and sucks and nips his way up your breast, charting his path with small love bites, staking his claim on the soft mound. Your hand finds its way into his hair, tugging gently as he wraps his lips around your nipple with a groan, grazing the pebbled bud with his teeth before soothing it with soft licks. He gently squeezes and massages your other breast, flicking the nipple with his forefinger, your pretty moans spurring him on.

He pulls off your nipple with a soft pop, moving over to the other one and taking it between his lips. He bites down with more force than before causing your body to spasm as you cry out in surprise and he huffs in approval as your back involuntarily arches off the bed, pushing more of your tit into his mouth.

“Jackass,” you scold playfully as he looks up at you, smirking around your nipple, sucking and soothing the hurt. You give him a light slap to his back and it is only when your hand connects with his t-shirt that it registers that he is still fully clothed while you are completely naked. You grab a handful of it and start tugging.

“Take this off,” you request gently, giving him a pleading look. One you know he can’t resist, no matter how much fun he’s having latched to your chest. Without complaint, he pulls off you, gives your nipple one last soft kiss and then sits up and pulls his shirt off. You pull at his sweatpants, “these too.”

He gives you a smug grin but gets off the bed and pulls his sweats and boxers off without comment, his hard cock bobbing as it’s released from its confines. You stare up at him, admiring every magnificent detail of him before he asks, “like what you see baby?”

“You’re so fucking sexy Joel,” you moan pulling him back down onto the bed and rolling over so you’re on top of him. You pepper his face, neck and chest with gentle kisses, allowing your hands to roam over every inch of exposed skin you can reach. You kiss your way down to his soft belly and you can’t help nuzzling into it. You’ve no idea why this particular part of his body drives you so wild but you can’t get enough of it. And after he’d confessed a few months into your relationship that he was slightly self-conscious about it you’d always made sure to show it extra love and attention.

Skating your hand down, it traces over the trail of hair that leads to his cock and as you take his rock hard length in your hand his head flops back onto the mattress with a muttered “fuck.”

Your head still resting on his belly you gently gather the pre-cum gathered at his tip and slowly start stroking up and down. Unable to take your eyes off it, your mouth waters as you feel the weight of it in your hand. He groans when you twist your hand round the sensitive head and his hips buck into your hand, “fuck baby.”

Without warning he sits up and manoeuvres you until you’re straddling him, your knees either side of his hips. One of his arms wraps around you, his big hand splayed over your lower back, the other comes up to cradle your face as he gazes down at you, panting.

“I wanted to suck it,” you tell him grumpily.

“Not tonight baby, I ain’t gona last and I need to feel that little pussy around me.” He snorts as you pout at him sulkily, “you can suck it in the morning before we go.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah baby I promise,” he chuckles as he kisses the pout right off your lips. “Be a good girl now and sit on Daddy’s cock.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You grab hold of him again, lining him up with your soaked centre and slowly sink down onto him, moaning the entire way, your head falling to rest on his shoulder. By the time you’re fully seated you’re almost hyperventilating, the overwhelming stretch of him inside you momentarily wiping your brain with how good it feels.

He strokes his hand up and down your spine, whispers in your ear that you’re a good girl and gently kisses your cheek while you adjust to him. He knows he’s a lot to take. Especially in this position but he also knows you can take it. That you love to take him. And that fills him with joy that spreads through his chest and sends a buzz through his entire being. It takes everything in him not to just burst inside of you every time he sinks inside your tight, wet, warmth. He’s never known bliss like it. So while you adjust to him he takes a moment to try and calm himself so as not to end the festivities early.

You start leaving soft little kisses at the base of his throat and your hips start to grind and circle on him. The hairs at the base of his cock catch your clit with every roll of your hips and you shiver in delight. His hands move to grip your hips starting to guide you up and down his length. Your head tips back in absolute ecstasy as you moan and mewl so beautifully for him.

“Fuck baby, you feel so fuckin’ good. Little pussy hugs my cock so tight every damn time, fuckin’ incredible.”

“So deep Daddy. So full.” Is all you can manage to respond. You’re bouncing on him more rapidly now, taking control of the pace leaving you both panting and sweaty. He loves you like this, watching you take what you need from him, seeing the pleasure written all over your face, watching your tits bounce with every movement. He’s fighting with his desire the whole time, holding himself back, desperate to get you over the finish line, to see you fall apart for him.

When he leans forward and captures your nipple in his mouth you know you’re done for. The feel of his big cock dragging along your walls, catching on that spongy spot with every bounce of your hips coupled with the pangs of pleasure that shoot through you with every pass of his tongue on your tit has the fire burning in your core building to a raging inferno. Another stinging slap to your ass is all you need for it to be unleashed and your climax burns through you with an unmatched savagery, you feel it in every fibre of your being, your whole body vibrating with pleasure.

Joel holds you tight as you spasm and cry out, tucking your head under his chin. He feels your pussy clench and release around his cock with each wave of your orgasm and it’s enough to have his own peak hurtling into him, with a “Jesus, fuck,” he flips you onto your back and pulls out just in time, shooting his cum over your mound and pussy lips with a series of primal grunts.

He slumps down on to the bed next to you, rolling you over so your head is lying on his chest. His hands gently stroke up and down your back and he places little kisses on your cheek. You grunt as you start to come back to Earth, basking in the heat of his skin against yours. You hear him muttering in your ear, “good job baby, I’ve got you, you’re ok. You’re ok.”

Pulling your fuzzy head up, still incapable of forming words, you latch your lips onto his instead, pouring your love and devotion into a powerful, passionate kiss. He happily reciprocates, satiated and content and so fucking happy that you’re his.

When you finally break apart you lie there gazing at each other, his fingers tracing shapes on your back, your fingers scritching at his facial scruff. You sigh dreamily, exhausted from your exploits and the lingering tension of the day. Joel gives you a quick kiss before pushing off the bed.

“Lets get cleaned up then we need to get some sleep.”

You watch his sexy ass as he retreats to the bathroom, offering up a silent prayer that this isn’t the last time you get to be together like this.

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Thank you so much for reading, things will be picking up action wise in the next couple of chapters.

This is their song, it’s one of my favourite love songs and I think it fits them so well!