#grandma has no filter

[ugle-beffus]

im not putting this in the gma watches atla masterpost but i just want it known that this is a thing that happened

zuko and iroh: *about to cut their hair at the river, having an emotionally intense moment that signifies great change in their lives from this point onward*

gma the moment zuko pulls out his knife and holds his hair back: IS HE GOING TO KILL HIMSELF??????

[raspberryconverse]

So my friend who works at a sex toy shop posted some photos of their items with Santa hats on them and it reminded me of when this happened (yes, it really happened). Grandma was right. You can put them on your winger dinger.

[femmeterypolka]

ok the thing which fucked me up the most with mouthwashing is anya and how giving curly his painkillers triggers her so much. because of my extremely personal issue problems.

[jils-things]

memoryshipping x studio ghibli: the masterpost ✨✨

see them separately: (x) (x) (x)

no need to rb!

[memoryshard]

There's so many old anime I wanna rewatch, like Naruto and Bleach since they were some of the first anime I ever watched, but I have the simple standard of "can a woman win a fight" and then my interest immediately leaves 😭

And people screaming "but it's meant for boys" drives me nuts because I think the most important demographic to see strong and capable women are teenage boys. "Women can be treated as lesser than, weaker, and sexy toys because it's meant for boys uwu" isn't the argument people seem to think it is

[heartofstanding]

just checked the word doc which has my draft of the shrewsbury wound-john bradmore sequence, thinking it was around 10k long. it's actually 19,242 words long. double what i thought it was. holy crap.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[rcmclachlan]

"Everyone at Harbor was... very concerned."

"Attention, all channels: Please be advised, a team from the coroner's office and biohazard removal specialists have been dispatched to LAFD Station 118 for the removal of human remains."

It takes a second for the words "Station 118" to penetrate the thick atmosphere of concentration and rage that Tommy's been floating on while he tries fruitlessly to sweet talk the Bell 505 into accepting the new safety wires he's been trying to install for the last half hour, but the second they do, he tosses down the needle-nosed pliers in his hand and makes a bee-line for the radio sitting between Dana, Nico, and the unpeeled tangerine Nico's eating like an apple.

"Did they say human remains?" Tommy's already reaching into his pocket for his phone, then curses under his breath when he remembers it's sitting in the cockpit of the Bell. He glances across the hangar and gauges the distance. He can probably get to it in ten seconds if he sprints.

"Shut up," Dana says as she turns the volume dial up.

"Be aware that crowd control has also been sent to clear the area. If you are called to an emergency scene in the general vicinity of Station 118, you are advised to avoid Gale Avenue and the surrounding streets until further notice."

"A kid was probably trick-or-treating and found someone's grandma who'd kicked it like a week ago." Nico takes an unconcerned bite of his tangerine, because there's something severely wrong with him as a person. "It's probably nothing."

"That's not nothing?" Tommy looks at Dana for help, but she just heaves a sigh and gives a long-suffering flick of her fingers in Nico's general direction. Which, honestly? Fair.

"They said the remains were at the 118," she muses, pulling out her phone and scrolling through with her thumb, not a single movement wasted. "No one there ever gave off a serial killer vibe—I'm not counting that little blond shithead from a few years ago—so I'm chalking it up to a good old-fashioned misunderstanding."

Nico coughs around a bite of tangerine, rind and all, and Dana doesn't so much as glance his way while she slams a fist into his back. To the casual observer, it probably looks like they're rehearsing some slapstick routine, but every member of the 217 knows that the second Nico gets his hands on any kind of foodstuff, he's immediately seven or eight seconds away from death.

They've had to perform the Heimlich nine times this week alone, and it's only Thursday. He keeps meaning to ask Howie if it's possible to survive solely on IV fluids, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Nico would just manage to choke himself out with the tubing.

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. "Nico, I'm begging you: chew your food. Or, like, peel the rind off first."

"Every part of the animal, my man," Nico trills cheerfully, wiping his mouth. There are orange bits stuck in his teeth.

Holding up a hand, Dana taps her phone with her thumb, her neon green nail—filed to a point so sharp it might actually violate the contract they all signed about not bringing weapons into the workplace—clacking against the screen. The sound of a calling dialing out filters through the speakers and it only takes two rings before someone picks up.

"You good, Dana?"

"Hey Mohini, I'm fine," Dana says with a small uptick to the corners of her mouth that could be almost be described as kind, and just seeing it makes Tommy's skin crawl a little. He glances at Nico, who has stopped trying to kill himself via citrus fruit and looks every bit as disturbed as Tommy feels. The last time Dana smiled, it was right before she launched herself at the asshole who told them to take their time rescuing his stepkid from the fire that was consuming the cabin his family had rented for the weekend.

They saved the kid, and the guy was too shit-scared of Dana to even consider suing her or the department for his broken jaw. He was also dealing with a sudden divorce.

The ex-stepkid writes to Dana every month. Tommy can't prove it, but he thinks he once saw her throw an envelope with the kid's name and address into the outgoing mail pile, and he's also too shit-scared of Dana to bring it up.

Dana catches his gaze and he mouths, who even are you?

She flips him off, which honestly does wonders to assuage his fears of her being possibly possessed.

"What's up, girl?"

"We heard the APB just now. What's going on with the 118?"

"What isn't going on with the 118?" Mohini laughs a little, crackling over the line. "From what I've heard, Firefighter Buckley bought a mummy for the Trunk or Treat thing they put on every year. A real one."

Startled, Tommy looks at the phone in Dana's hand and asks, very slowly, "He bought a corpse?"

Tommy can feel Dana's pointed stare on the side of his face, mostly because his skin is starting to sear, but Tommy can't do anything but stare at the phone and try to process that one. And he just can't. Every time he tries, the smell of burnt toast gets stronger.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised. We've been overdue for a Buckley-related call. I mean, it's been two months since the last one. Remember the thing with the HVAC unit on Sunset?"

He barely remembers that Buckley-related call, but he does remember the one from three nights ago in great detail, which ended with him rimming Evan until he cried and then fucking his brains out. Apparently Evan forgot to put them back in before he bought a dead body to use as a Halloween decoration.

Blowing out a breath, Tommy turns on his heel, jogs over to the Bell, and grabs his phone from the pilot's seat.

Evan, are you okay? Dispatch said something about an incident at the 118, he texts, deliberately vague. He's been told once or twice that his texting tone can sometimes border on an interrogation, which is bullshit, because texting doesn't have a tone, but he doesn't want to be an asshole when he knows Evan's probably beyond humiliated about this.

Plus, Evan doesn't necessarily know that Tommy knows about the mummy. It'll be much better if he has the opportunity to tell Tommy on his own terms.

<< omw 2 the hospital. im ok!

Or he could just be incredibly Evan about it.

>> What happened?! Do you want me to meet you there? I can leave right now.

<< Awwww <3 Eddie going 2 meet me there. Come by l8r?

>> As soon as my shift ends, I promise. Are you sure you're okay?

<< disloc8ed shoulder

Evan literally had to go to a different keyboard to find the 8. Tommy hates how hard he's falling for this ridiculous person.

>> I'll fly there if I have to. Text or call me anytime, okay?

<< :-) :-) :-)

It's three smiley faces. It's nothing, and yet something inside him eases, turns three times, and curls up with a pleased purr.

Since he left the 118 and decided to finally live the life he'd spent his life refusing to allow himself to have, he's dated four people, Evan included. What he feels when he looks at those smiley faces is more than what he felt about the other three people combined. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. He never put stock in the whole 'there's someone for everyone' thing Sal's wife likes to throw around, but then he threw caution to the wind and kissed a beautiful, babbling man silent, and in the weeks that have followed his life seems so much more than he ever imagined it could be.

He has no idea how any of this is going to shake out, and chances are he's going to screw this up spectacularly, but he taps his finger gently to the middle smiley face and hopes Sal's wife is onto something. Maybe there really could be someone for him. Maybe that someone texts like a twelve-year old.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Tommy sends back a single smiley face and pockets his phone. And then immediately takes it back out and sends like five more, because he's pathetic.

Dana and Nico are right where he left them, and as soon as he gets close, Nico sits up and levels him with an expectant look.

"Are they gonna shitcan him? You know the LAFD will shitcan anyone no matter what the circumstances are," he says gravely.

Primly, Dana touches the points of each of her nails to the pad of her thumb. "Nico, if you didn't get shitcanned for tricking Chief Bailey into shrooming at the Backdraft Ball last year, I think Buckley's in the clear."

"That was a complete misunderstanding," Nico swears for the thousandth time.

Dana gives him a slow blink. "It was not. You pulled a jar of mushrooms out of your jacket and said, 'I'm gonna send Chief Bailey to Jupiter.' I have no idea why you're not in jail."

Smug as anything, Nico preens a little. "Chief B was going through some stuff and we went on a very good trip together."

Tommy and Dana share a dubious glance, because that could mean anything from impromptu therapy to having sex in the bathroom where the two of them were found. And Tommy's not one to judge anyone's sexual proclivities, but Chief Bailey is in his early eighties and has very well-documented hip problems.

"How's the human terrier doing? Did he dig anyone else up?" Dana asks. Her expression gives nothing away, but he knows she's laughing at him deep down in whatever black hole her body uses to siphon off emotion.

"Har har," Tommy deadpans, then pauses. "I actually don't know the answer to that. I'm really hoping it's just the one corpse. He did manage to dislocate his arm, though."

"I bet they're gonna shitcan him," Nico says.

"I bet Donato's gonna kill you in cold blood for eating her tangerine when she gets back," Tommy says brightly.

"Probably. I couldn't help it. Stolen food tastes better; it's a law of nature." Nico makes a thoughtful sound and gets to his feet, stretching languidly. "Since I'm already marked for death, I might as well eat her potato salad while I'm at it."

He and Dana watch him amble away in search of Lucy's motive, and Dana asks, genuinely curious, "You ever wonder if the LAFD will go against the grain and hire someone normal?"

"Only every day of my life," Tommy admits. "Speaking of which, did your friend have anything else to say about Evan's, uh, taste in Halloween decorations?"

She shakes her head. "It's with the police now. You off to see your grave robber?"

Huffing a laugh, he lightly kicks her foot. He doesn't know what it says about him that hearing Evan be referred to as a felon fills him with such fondness, but he decides to shove it out of sight until he can study it in greater detail when he's alone.

"My shift ends in a couple of hours. He can keep himself out of trouble until then." Tommy thinks about it for a second and amends, "Probably."

Two hours should be plenty of time to finish fighting with the safety wires, shower real quick, and then break a handful of traffic laws on his way to First Presbyterian. He can only hope Evan doesn't dislocate his other arm or lock himself in the morgue in the meantime.

"Hey." Dana kicks his foot and he lifts his gaze to hers. She stares at him for a moment and, terrifyingly, her mouth quirks again. "Happiness looks good on you, Kinard."

He ducks his head, smiling helplessly. "It's early days, D."

"So what? Doesn't mean you can't be happy about it." Dana shrugs. "I'm thrilled, frankly. Now we've got someone on the inside who can give us firsthand intel about what the fuck goes on over there."

"I'm not a spy," Tommy says flatly.

Dana nods. "True. But it won't be long before you're an accomplice."

Like it's a foregone conclusion that he's going to throw in with Evan and Evan's family. The hurricane could be written off as an outlier, but Tommy knows the second they come to him again for help—the very instant Evan asks—it's going to be an immediate yes.

"If it comes to that, will you bail me out?" he asks, half-jokingly. He won't do her the disrespect of trying to deny it. She's always had his number.

"Nah." Dana gets to her feet and reaches up to pat him on the arm. "I'll let Donato do the honors."

He'd rather stay in jail.

[httpswritings]

if you were my little girl: the series part 3

alexia putellas x child!reader; this story contains mentions of traumatic experiences as drug addiction, child abuse and similar topics. don't read it if you find those topics triggering.

The Starting Point

Alexia became a familiar face at your house. Everything seemed picture perfect – you, her, and sometimes even her sister Alba, playing dolls and coloring in your room. Alba, with her natural gift for connecting with children, clicked with you instantly. Her calm demeanor and genuine care were a soothing balm for the anxieties you craved relief from.

One day, with your parents momentarily out and you engrossed in a game with Alba, Alexia found herself drawn to a stack of photo albums on the coffee table. Flipping through them, a pang of bittersweet feeling

washed over her. There you were, a tiny bundle of joy with a gap-toothed grin in your baby photos. In others, you were surrounded by family, seemingly bursting with infectious laughter. It was a stark contrast to the subdued mood you'd settled into lately.

Alba returned with you, both of you chattering excitedly about the upcoming trip to the park. You gravitated towards Alba, seeking her comforting presence. Alexia, although happy for the connection, felt a gnawing unease. She needed to understand the reason behind your sudden withdrawal, the reason that left a shadow on your once-radiant smile.

Alexia entered your room.

She knew this was wrong but she needed to find something that would hint the reason behind your behavior.

Having discussed your situation with Alba, Alexia knew the answer might lie hidden in your artwork. Children, Alba had explained, often expressed their truest selves through their drawings, a language unburdened by the need to filter emotions.

Alexia examined the ones you had on your wall.

Alexia studied the drawings displayed on the wall. Friends, football – a testament to your passions – and a surprising number featuring Alexia herself. In these drawings, you had bestowed upon her crowns, angel wings, and an ever-present smile. In stark contrast, there were only one of your family. The difference was a glaring red flag.

Time was running out before you and Alba returned. With a surge of urgency, Alexia knelt by your desk, rifling through your belongings. Her heart quickened when she found a drawing tucked away, partially obscured by notebooks. It depicted your family at a birthday celebration. Everyone seemed joyful, except for you and your grandmother.

Before you could return, Alexia snapped a picture of the drawing, the click a jarring note in the otherwise playful atmosphere. "Ale, Alba told me she got permission to go to the park! Can we?" you asked, your voice filled with innocent hope.

"No, amor," Alexia replied, forcing a smile. "Your parents said we have to stay here. They'll be back soon." Her heart ached for the disappointment clouding your eyes. Yet, the drawing offered a glimmer of hope, a clue to the unspoken pain hidden beneath your brave facade. The path forward wouldn't be easy, but at least now, Alexia had a starting point.

You pouted, pulling yourself closer to Alba, and resigned yourself knowing fun was about to be over.

Alba The Artist

Alexia made Alba go to Alexia's house to discuss the drawing.

Your family: you parents and your uncles were drawn with big smiles and dancing.

On the other hand, your grandmother was sitting on a corner, with an angry face, and you were on the middle.

Your figure was bigger than everyone's else, and you had a sad face.

“This is very weird. What has her grandma had to do with her? Everyone's happy except them.”

Alba wasn't been as helpful as Alexia thought she would be.

Both of them accorded to keep looking for signs in your room.

Now, it'lbe Alba's turn.

Alexia had to go away for like a week.

You hated when Alexia had to travel, because that meant that you wouldn't see her in at least a few days.

Alba had managed to be alone in your room as you were in the bathroom.

Hidden away, she saw the drawing, but with two new additions. Beside you, smiling brightly, was Alexia, whispering, "I'm here." Next to her, an unfinished figure – maybe Alba herself – surrounded by hearts. Alba sent a photo to Alexia, and a tear slipped down her cheek. It was clear you loved Alexia dearly.

When you returned from the bathroom, Alba was almost out of breath after doing everything so quickly.

She had a idea, suggesting to make a shared drawing.

You agreed eagerly.

Alba was very kind and sweet, and she always smelled nicely.

You drew some stars but as you peeked over Alba's part, you noticed that she was drawing you, loving how smiley she had drawn you, finally someone who noticed your smile.

“My parents always say that I should smile more. You should show them your drawing!"

As expected, Alba was noting in her mind everything you were telling her.

You drew Alba with long hair, with shiny clothes and with a big heart on her dress.

“Why don't we draw Ale?”

When Alba mentioned Alexia, your most genuine smile bloomed. "I love her, and I love you."

"We love you too, mi amor." It was a world of just the three of you, a secret language of love.

You drew Alexia exactly the same way as Alba, and she laughed.

“We seem like twins.”

“You almost are! You have the same laughter. Sometimes I can't figure out who's the one laughing!”

“Why don't we draw your parents? So we can show them our drawing?”

“No.”

You didn't even look at Alba, as you were very focused on painting flowers around Alexia's figure, so you missed her puzzled face.

“Why not, little one?”

“This is our drawing. Only Alexia, me and you.”

Alba wanted to understand further, but this was yours, a private conversation on paper. Alba understood and respected your boundaries and you were thankful for it.

“Should we call Ale so we can show her our piece of art?”

As Alexia appeared on the phone screen, you showed off your masterpiece.

She showered you with praise, something your parents rarely did. You used to draw them too, but their lack of interest made you lose heart. Now, you had your own way of expressing yourself.

Matilda

Alexia was finally back.

She had brought you some gifts, like she always did when she travelled.

You were at home with her and your parents.

At first, they were happy about your relationship with Alexia, but envy was starting to make its way to them.

The abundance of Alexia-themed artwork in your room, the practiced calligraphy spelling out her name on every blank sheet, the constant stream of gifts – it all pricked at them. "She's not your mother," they'd mutter under their breath. The way you'd dash to the door whenever Alexia arrived fueled their silent resentment.

But Alexia offered things they no longer did – undivided attention, playful indulgence, a helping hand with schoolwork. It was a convenient arrangement, as long as she did it, your parents didn't have to.

Homework complete, Alexia suggested a movie night. You squealed for your favorite, "Matilda." Curled up on the couch, your head resting on Alexia's lap, her fingers gently stroking your hair, a sense of deep security washed over you.

The credits of "Matilda" rolled, the final triumphant scene a fitting end to your perfect evening. With a contented sigh, you snuggled deeper into Alexia's lap. You weren't quite asleep, but the warmth of her embrace, the safe haven she always created, pulled you into a state of serene comfort.

Alexia watched, a smile gracing her lips as your breathing softened. Witnessing your relaxed state, a pang of guilt stabbed at her heart. Wishing nothing more than to bottle this feeling of peace for you every day, she knew the reality was far more complex.

There were some lines she couldn't cross.

There were lines she couldn't cross. You were a child, and she, an adult entrusted with your well-being. Sharing a bed, no matter how innocent, could be misinterpreted. It could send the wrong message, plant a seed of doubt that could taint your perception of all adults.

A child is very vulnerable and genuine, so Alexia knew she had to protect you from any harmful adult. Protecting your innocence was paramount. She was the one adult you trusted, and that trust needed to be unwavering. Sharing confidential information, forming a bond built on honesty, that was how she'd safeguard you from potential predators.

That's why she started educating you on the dangers a kid could face.

She was a trustable adult, so you heard her very attentive, and agreed to tell her anything that could put you in danger.

Who To Trust

A shadow of concern crossed your face as thoughts of the upcoming family reunion swirled in your head. You knew the drill – alcohol, fights, a tense atmosphere that made your skin crawl. Should you tell Alexia? Would she intervene, potentially put herself at risk?

Your grandmother was there, but being raised as the way women should behave in the Spain's 40s, she never said a word.

You knew she wouldn't stand up for you, wouldn't break the silence.

The need to confide in Alexia burned bright, but the opportunity seemed out of reach.

As if they knew, you parents were always at home, so you didn't have the possibility of being alone with her.

You already knew how to write, but taking into consideration the complexity of the situation, you didn't know where to start.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Got you some sheets,” you say as you enter the front room.  

Bucky pulls on the foldout frame and it catches, like it always does. It offers little resistance as he wrenches on it and unfurls with a metallic whine. The legs stamp on the floor and he stands straight. 

“Sorry, not tryna break the place,” he narrows his eyes at the stubborn piece of furniture. 

“Like I said, everything around here is old.” 

“So I fit right in, got it,” his brows flick. 

“Not exactly what I meant,” you set the stacks of sheets, a quilt, and a pillow on the mattress. “Need help?” 

“Think I can figure it out. You don’t do cot inspections, do you?” He asks. 

You hesitate before you realise he’s joking. 

“You got until 1900 hours to get that made up,” you try to kid back then immediately make a face. “You know what, ignore that. I’m gonna have a decaf. Need anything?” 

His cheek dimples and he shakes his head, “got more than enough.” 

He turns and moves the linens. You retreat quickly. You can’t believe you’re such a weirdo. You could blame the fact that you rarely have company and those people who do stop by are backwoods seniors, but he’s even older than them. In spirit, at least. 

You load the drip filter with decaf grinds and sit at the table as you wait. Your eyes skim the faded wallpaper. You remember when you were a kid and you’d come to visit Grandma. You’d sit and count the flowers as she baked a pie. It was the one place where you weren’t afraid. 

“Mind if I grab some water?” Bucky’s voice slices through the veil of nostalgia and you flinch. You sit up and cross your arms. 

“In the fridge,” you sniff and stand as the kettle starts to boil.  

You pour over the filter and wait for it to brew. Bucky opens a cupboard and takes out a glass. He’s quiet as he fills it and puts the jug back in the fridge. You stand at the counter awkwardly. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter and flee before he can answer. 

The adrenaline of his arrival has worn away. Your social battery is dying and you’re receding back into your usual introverted troll. You go down to the linen closet and take out a peachy towel, hand towel, and wash cloth. 

You come back down to the front room. He’s not there. You leave the armful on the bed. It’s neatly made; straight edges, not a wrinkle. You return to the kitchen and sniff as you fidget. 

“I left some towels on your bed, in case you need to wash up,” you toy with the zipper of your collar. “Tomorrow we can hit the grocery store in case you need anything. Soap or... whatever.” 

“Packed it. Got used to living out of a bag,” he assures you. 

“Fair,” you agree. 

You blow out through your lips and return to the counter. The mug is full. You dump the filter and rinse the pour-over lid. You put it in the rack and pick up the cup. You stare into the dark brew as if you might just dive in and hope to drown. 

“Hey, look,” he says, “don’t worry about keeping me up or nothing. I don’t really sleep so...” 

“Yeah,” you swallow. “I... I do my work here. That’s my desk,” you point to the table. “I got headphone though.” 

“Right, I can stay out of the way,” he shows a palm. “Kinda my whole thing. In and out without being seen.” 

You look at him. He’s right but the context is not so funny. The thought of what he’s done makes you little leery. 

“I’ll let you enjoy your coffee. Could stand to stretch out after the ride up.” 

He takes his glass and heads for the door, tapping the frame with his fingers before he passes through. It’s a bit reassuring that he’s just as awkward. You guess it will be like that until you get used to each other. You really hope Sam doesn’t leave him up here long enough for you to be used to each other. 

You pick up the mug and quietly shuffle out. You keep your eyes down the hallway as you go to your room. You close yourself in, careful not to shut the door too heavily, and go to your bed. You put the cup on the night stand and sigh. 

Sam is going to get an earful, once your signal comes in. He really just dropped this grown man on you like you’re some sort of boarding house. As much as he did for you, this seems like a little much. Well, he’s never been very good at knowing the limit. 

You get up and change into a loose pair of pajama pants and a cozy sleep shirt. The nights get colder as the season passes. Fall won’t stave off the frost much longer. 

Maybe that will drive him away. This country isn’t exactly famous for its hospitable weather. The scenery might be nice and some of the people, but there’s not much else. Not unless you enjoy the wildlife. The crows, the squirrels, the chipmunks, wild hares, and groundhogs. Then there’s the more deadly ones; coyotes, bears, and moose.  

You really don’t think Sam thought any of this out. After all, who wants to be in Canada. Especially someone like Bucky. Someone who’s been all around the world, who lived in one of liveliest cities on the planet. This bodunk town in the north is going to bore him right back to his own country. 

[thehighpriestess1]

Be Mine : The meeting

Summary : After finally waiting for 20 years Gojo Satoru finally met the woman he has been in love with. But love is not easy to conquer even for the strongest.

Pairing : Yandere King Gojo x Knight reader

Warning: Yandere themes. Mentions of violence and death. Minors do not interact!

Master list : Ask Box

It was not unusual for a woman to be a knight or a soldier. Although it was a bit unfair to those of your kind. In this kingdom were two kinds of people, one who had power, the sorcerers, not the kind of power that comes with a position but the kind you are born with. Power that is used to protect the others against the army of curses that have plagued the world for centuries. No one knows where these curses come from. No one knows how to eradicate them forever. But as goes the law of balance, there are people that are born with the power to kill these curses and the most powerful of them all, the man who is said to possess the kind of power that comes once in a century, the king, Gojo Satoru. 

The second kinds, your kind, people who are born without power. Even if they are born into the wealthiest of families they are bound to live in the shadows of sorcerers. You were neither born into a noble clan nor did you have any power. All you had was your strength and grit. 

You joined the forces to fight against the curses. What use were you to the kingdom without power? They always needed people like you to do the menial tasks during the war and use your sword to the best of your abilities. That you did very well. In a span of four years you climbed through the ranks fighting against the sexism and the casual disdain against you. It has changed you, hardened you. Now you were a rebel amongst legends and infamous amongst the infantry. 

But unbeknownst to you, there was someone who was watching your every move. Before the time you joined the ranks to the day of your knighthood. You were good. Fearless. Kind. But you were too far. Too far for his liking.The only way to fix that was to bring you closer to him. He wished he could reach out to you when he saw you on the battlefield. While he did protect you on the field with his powers, he wished desperately to be able to mend your wounds and kiss the pain away. But it was not ideal for the king to run across the battlefield and cradle a foot soldier. He wished he could lay next to you and wipe your tears but he could only watch from his ivory tower. It was the best use of his six eyes. When he was presented with the list of names to be considered for King’s knight he didn’t even look at it and presented his own recommendation. Who dared reject the king’s recommendation?

Gojo lay on the silk bed sheets as the moonlight filtered through the curtains. He stared at the ceiling with a smile on his face. Tomorrow he will finally have you close to him. He still remembered the first time he met you, 20 years ago. He was out in the kingdom with his father and had run off from the procession and snuck into a back alley of a bakery. There instead of sweet delicacies he ran into the sweetest girl he had ever seen. She sat at the steps of the bakery in a red dress with two pigtails with a white ribbon tied at the end. Gojo was dumbfounded and simply stared at her. Was she the fairies his mother told him about?

“ The bakery is closed! Come after 2 PM”. She said as she took a bite of her cupcake.

“What’s your name?”. He asked as he stepped towards her.

“My grandma told me not to talk to strangers”.

Gojo was dumbfounded. He stared at her blankly.

The girl rolled her eyes, “What do you want?”.

Gojo snapped out of his thoughts. “I…I want to buy…I want…I want what you are having”. 

She got off the steps and stood in front of him. She extended the half eaten cupcake and shrugged. “This is the last one and the bakery is closed”. 

Gojo stared at the cupcake, he had never eaten a half eaten cake. Heck he had never had to share anything in his life. But he stretched his arm forward to grab the cupcake and right before he could grab hold of the sweet delicacy the girl withdrew her arm and shoved the entire cupcake in her mouth. She grinned with lips littered with crumbs and mouth full of cupcakes. To his surprise instead of anger or contempt his heart was filled with this foreign feeling. It made him feel warm and he smiled at her.She was the embodiment of light, her toothy smile made his heart race and time stop. Before he could ask her name or give her his’ the guards surrounded him and led him back to his father. Before they could drag him away he stretched out his arm and grab hold of one of the silk ribbons.That’s all he had of hers now. For years Gojo tied that ribbon on his wrist. When it got too small for his wrist he tied it to his bedpost. The Kingdom grew and wars were won but he remembered the bakery and he remembered her. She never left his mind and once he was old enough to command power he had her details in front of her. Y/n L/n. 

-X-

Gojo stared at his reflection in the mirror. After two hours of going through an array of clothes, he finally decided on the staple navy blue with velvet red cape. He looked at the watch and realized there were still hours before the ceremony. It was getting harder for him to wait any longer, he had to see you once so he took the cape and the medals off and wore a long black trench coat and snuck out of his room.

He knew where all the to-be-guards would be waiting. He stood behind the curtains at the entrance and scanned the room for you but he didn’t see you. Did you refuse the position last minute? Did something happen to you on the way? He frowned and turned around to walk back to his room but stopped in his tracks when he saw you walking next to another man. Your hair was toed back neatly and your smile…it made time stop.But rage filled his nerves as she saw you laugh and punch the other man on the shoulder. Why were you touching him? Why was he making you laugh? Your silver batch, indicating your knighthood, shone brightly as you walked past him without sparing him another glance. His heart broke. You had forgotten him. He spent every day of the last 20 years thinking about you and you didn’t even remember him! Your scent lingered in the air as he stood there basking in it. Was he that forgettable? What was he going to do now? With anger in his eyes and sadness in his veins he was about to walk away.

“Oi!”. Someone called out from behind but Gojo was so lost in his thoughts he ignored it. 

“Oi white hair!”. 

Gojo frowned and clenched his jaw. Who dared speak to him like that. He turned around ready to order his men to behead the imbecile but his anger evaporated when he saw you standing behind him with a smirk on your face. You were talking to him. You were talking to him!

“Ye…Yes?”. He asked hesitantly. Unsure of whether you knew who he was or not.

“I owe you this''. You extended your hand forward and held a cupcake in your hand. 

Gojo stared dumbfounded at the cupcake. His heart raced faster than the best horses in the kingdom. You remembered him. All those years of planning to get you here was not a waste. You remembered him. He looked at you and let out a shuddered breath at how beautiful you looked. Your hair was in a neat ponytail above your head, even the metal armor you wore looked so delicate. Your eyes held the same hope and your smile, Gojo was ready to wage wars for that smile.

“You…you..remember me?”.

You chuckled, “Of course I do! Do you want this one or should I shove it in my mouth?”. 

Gojo chuckled and took the cupcake from your hand. “Thanks”. You looked different up close. Better. Prettier. You carried the same light within you as you did 20 years ago. 

“Are you here for the ceremony as well?”. You chirped.

“Yes…kind of”. 

You nodded your head and looked at him. He was just the same. Shy. Timid. “You have really pretty eyes''. You said absentmindedly. You didn’t know how the words fell out of your mouth but god were they true. 

Gojo’s eyes widened. You just complimented him? This was the first time you had complimented him! 

“Ummm yeah..thank..thank you”. He said, too shy to meet your eyes. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He wanted to be confident and strong for you and yet he was stuttering like a child.”What are you doing here?”. He feigned ignorance.

“I am about to be knighted to be the King’s personal guard”.

“Congratulations”. He smiled politely. 

“Thank you. What about you? I haven’t seen you in the ranks so…I guess you are not a knight”.

Gojo cursed himself mentally. “Umm yeah. I work in ….administration”. Not a lie, Gojo thought to himself.

“Nice.By the way, have you ever met the king? I’ve heard some pretty interesting things about him”. 

“No…I haven’t met the king..”. Gojo said, confused. Who was spreading rumors about him to you? Before he could ask any further about the baseless rumors another man came from behind him and wrapped his arms around you. 

“Niko! My man! So good to see you!”. You said as you returned the hug. 

Gojo watched you exchange formalities with Niko. When Niko had taken his leave you turned towards Gojo once again. “You were saying something?”.

“Is that guy your….man?”. 

You frowned and looked at Niko, “oh him? No. I mean not like that. We have been in the ranks together since the beginning and he has saved my ass so many times!”. 

Gojo smiled and looked down at his feet. If only you knew how many times he saved you from getting killed. “I see…what were you saying about the king?”. 

“Oh right! I have heard that he thinks only those with curse techniques deserve to occupy the ranks! Can you even believe him?! What a jerk! If that was true then people like me would always be treated like shit and would never get a chance to fight those curses!”. 

Gojo hummed. Though it was true that he believed that, you were here weren’t you? Though he believed it would never be acted on because he understood the importance of balance. “But..If that were true then…you wouldn’t be here”. 

“You see that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not about what he does. That fact that he says those things gives sorcerers even more reasons to..to bully us. Because now their ideology aligns with that of the king and the so called sorcerer king can never be wrong. What a joke!”. 

Gojo chuckled nervously. That stung Gojo. But you were right. It’s not only actions but also his words that have a ripple effect and eventually hurt the one he loves.

“But..wait…how do you know that I am not a sorcerer?”.

“I can tell”. Gojo added immediately, cursing himself. “Why did you join ranks?”. He asked immediately, hoping to change the conversation. Though he had a faint idea about it.

You smiled sadly,”You remember the bakery? It was owned by my grandmother. When the war began, the curses destroyed the town and ..killed her. So I decided that I will fight them until I am satisfied that I have avenged her”.

Gojo sighed. He remembered that war. Many died and many went missing. He was about 20 that time. The war had lasted for over a week and after a week he was able to create a shield around the kingdom to prevent any curses from getting in. He felt guilty now, if only he would have been strong enough back then he would have been able to save the bakery and you wouldn’t be risking your life everyday. “I’m sorry to hear that”. 

You sighed and shrugged. “That’s alright. Anyway we should go before the so-called ‘strongest’ arrives”. 

“I have something to take care of, you should go. I’ll see you soon”. 

“Okaaaay. What’s your name though? Or would you rather I call you snow white?”. 

Gojo smiled fondly and took a bite off the cupcake. “You can call me whatever you want”. He winked and turned around and walked aways. 

“Who was that?”. Niko asked you when you finally joined him and the others. 

“Just some nobel guy I met years ago”. 

“Ooooh you are fishing already?”. Niko smirked.

“Oh! Fuck off! I am just happy to make friends”.

“He seems weird”.

“Maybe, he was just nervous. It is a pretty important day”.

Amante, another woman in your ranks joined in, “I think he was quite handsome”. She smiled sweetly. But that was Amante, she was too sweet and too polite to be in this line of work.

Niko shrugged, “You know what they say about these noble guys right? They don’t last long in bed! His handsomeness alone is not enough”. 

You rolled your eyes at his comments. “Don’t listen to him, Amante. If you want I will happily introduce you to him and you are right, he is quite handsome”.

“Do you really think so?”. Niko asked, sipping from his chalice. He stood tall next to you, his brown hair neatly combed back and his sharp jawline freshly shaved. But from this angle you could tell the places he nicked himself. His brown eyes looked like honey in this light and though you would never admit it, you were jealous of his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I think he was quite good looking”. 

“Better than me?”. Niko smirked. 

You shook your head and ignored his comment. He was just being..Niko.

-X- 

It was a closed ceremony, only those to be knighted to be king’s guards were allowed to be there. The other ranks were commemorated by the chief of troops while you waited at the back and watched with pride as your friends got their lapel decorated. You wondered when it would be your turn and would you get to meet the king today? It came as a surprise that you were the only one appointed as the King’s guard, a non sorcerer vowing to protect the sorcerer king. Suddenly it didn’t feel right.

“Ma’am, he’s waiting for you”. 

You turned and looked at the older man bowing next to you. “Who is waiting for me?”. 

“His highness the King”. 

You blinked blankly and looked at your friends in the other end of the room. You nodded your head and got up to follow the man. 

You walked two steps behind the man wondering why was your coronation held separately and why couldn’t the king take some time off to know the people who swore to protect him a few rooms down the hall. 

“What’s your name?”. You asked, looking around and admiring the heavy velvet curtains.

“Ijichi”. The man replied in a tired tone. 

“How do I address you?”. 

“You may call me Ijichi”.

You hummed. “May I ask you a question Ijichi-san?”.

“Yes”.

“What is the king like?”.

“He is the strongest sorcerer”. 

You chuckled. That's what everyone says anyway. “I mean…as a person”.

Ijichi let out a tired sigh that made you wonder whether he didn’t like the king or he didn’t like you. “He is ..Eccentric”.

“Eccentric?”. You corked a brow.

“Yes. You will find out soon”. 

You didn’t want to trouble him anymore so continued to follow him quietly. 

Soon you found yourself outside a large wooden door with gold handles. Ijichi turned towards you and smiled, “His highness is waiting inside. If you need anything, you may call me anytime”.

“Thank you, Ijichi-san”.

“-and…The King is a good person. So don’t be hasty in making your judgment”. Ijichi smiled.

It was probably the first time you heard a little life in his voice. You smiled and nodded your head. “I’ll keep that in mind”. 

Ijichci took his leave and you stood outside the door staring at the gold inlay, wondering why would the strongest sorcerer appoint a non-sorcerer as the King’s guard?. Your heart was beating loudly and fear crept into your heart. You fought curses with just your sword and yet you were questioning yourself, it didn’t make any sense. 

“I can sense you standing outside”. The voice echoed from inside making you jolt backwards. He knew you were here. There was no going back now.So you took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

“Snowwhite?”. You chuckled as you saw the back of the head of your old friend but when he turned around your smile dropped and eyes widened. You saw the medals on his lapel and the seal on his collar. Your eyes drifted to the crown kept on a stand nearby and your throat ran dry. You immediately kneeled on one knee and brought your fist to your heart and bowed in greeting to the king. “Your Highness”.

“Stand up, y/n”.

You got up but refused to look him in the eye. You could sense that he was walking towards you and suddenly the rose on the carpet was covered by a pair of black boots. 

Gojo placed his index finger below your chin and tilted it up, to look closely at the face he has been dreaming about. “Hello, y/n”.

You took a step back and stomped your feet. “It’s an honor to meet you, your highness”.

Gojo sighed, “Drop it already, will you?”.

You looked up at him, confused. “I..don’t understand you-”.

“Drop the formalities. We are friends. You can call me Satoru”.

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “I..I am sorry your highness…for..what I said”.

“Why? You were right”.

“I..meant the terms I used to describe you..”

Gojo laughed. “That’s alright. You are my friend so that’s okay”.

“I am supposed to be your guard, your highness”. You said sternly.

Gojo realized it will take time for you to open up to him, he had waited years now, he could wait a little more.

“Alright, do what feels right for you. If you have any questions then do not hesitate to ask me”. Gojo smiled as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“I do have one…question”. 

“Go ahead”.

“Why did you choose me to be your guard? I am not a sorcerer and you are the strongest sorcerer”.

Gojo smiled to himself. He had expected this question which is why he prompted you to ask in the first place. “Because you are capable. You are more capable than some of the sorcerers. It is not the curses I need the protection from, it is non-sorcerers”.

His response left a bittersweet feeling in your heart. “I don’t have any more questions, your highness”.

“Are you sure?”. Gojo corked a brow.

“Yes, Your Highness”.

“So you don’t want to know what I was doing at the bakery that day and why do I remember you?”.

You were taken by surprise. You had heard of his powers but many were still hidden, was mind reading one of his powers?. Regardless, you were determined to keep things professional between the two of you, you had already offended him enough. “Your Highness is kind enough to remember me”.

Gojo’s jaw clenched in irritation. This was not his kindness. This was his love. You were his love. But of course how could you know that? For you, you had met him after two decades. Unlike him you were not aware of his life. “It’s more than kindness y/n. You were the second person ever to treat me like an equal. I consider you my friend and friends , protect each other”.

You smiled politely, “Yes, Your Highness”.

Gojo smiled and straightened up. “Let’s get to business shall we?”.

“Yes, Your Highness”.

“First things first, I do not place much value on the old rituals of reading out your duties and having you take the oath. You are an honorable woman and I trust you that you will do your duty diligently”.

You stomped your right foot and pressed your fist to your heart, “Yes, Your highness. I promise you I will put my life on the line for-”.

“Everything except that”. Gojo cut you off. “I don’t want you to put your life on the line for me. Do not even think about sacrificing your life for me. Just stay by my side and…that’s it”.

You gulped nervously. “Ye..Yes, Your Highness”.

“Now, where were we?...right! You don’t need to wear that heavy armor anymore. I have asked the atelier to take your measurement and have your uniform ready. Ijichi will show you your room after your fitting, you can rest today and explore the palace grounds, in the evening we will meet at the stable where you will get to pick your horse, then you will join me for dinner. Is that clear?”.

“Yes, You-”.

“Just a yes will do”.

“Ye..yes. Clear”.

Gojo smiled. “Good. Tomorrow you will show up at my office at 7:00 AM and accompany me throughout the day”.

“Yes”.

-X-

You walked towards his office in your newly fitted uniform. It was eerily similar to his’. Navy trousers paired with a white shirt and a heavy navy blue overcoat. Your Knight’s badge shone on the left lapel and your cufflinks were just like his’. You wondered if it was on his demand or was just a norm. But your favorite part of the uniform were the stitched white roses on the inside of the overcoat. Absolutely hidden from the outside world, they were your own personal ornament. Your horse too was the same as his. A beautiful white beast with flowing silver hair. When standing side by side it was hard to differentiate between the two horses. When you asked Ijichi, he informed you that the other horse, the female counterpart, was bred and trained to be a companion to the male counterpart and Gojo had forbidden everyone from riding it. A part of you thought that he was saving her for you but that can’t be true right? How was he to know that you would meet after all these years. It was a surprise that he even remembered you.

Even your old sword was replaced with a newer one. To fight the curse, every non-sorcerer needed a special blade which needed to be pierced in the head of the curse to eradicate it. As the soldier moved up the ranks the sword was replaced by a more powerful one. As a King’s personal guard you were sure this was the most powerful blade to exist. But fighting alone was not enough. To protect yourself from the attack, you had a shield embedded in your amulet. All you needed to do was unclasp the lock on your inner wrist and a tiny amulet was turned into a full sized shield. Your new amulet was made out of white gold and had roses carved into them. It made a pretty shield. 

Your room was thrice the size of your old house. It was too spacious and you couldn’t believe that it was all yours. Everything from the carpet to curtains was made out of finest quality material. Your bed was soft as a cloud and your wardrobe was filled with your uniforms for different occasions. Your tattered leather bag seemed out of place in this opulence. You walked to the window and to your surprise you could see right on the King’s balcony. Maybe it was a security measure. You thought about him, how he treated you like an old friend even after all the things you said about him. He was not how others, especially Niko, had painted him out to be. He wasn’t aggressive, or crazy. He was gentle, Kind, and considerate. You didn’t realize you were staring at his balcony until he walked out and you immediately stepped back, hoping he didn’t notice you.

After a long sleepless night of thinking you decided that it would be best to stick to your rules rather than obey  his’. He might be kind and considerate but he was still a King, a sorcerer king, and a sorcerer and non-sorcerer can never be friends. You had never hated sorcerers. Not until the war. When you saw your grandmother lying unconscious on the floor you developed a deep seeded hatred for sorcerers. If only this was a world without sorcerers and curses then your grandma would still be alive. You joined the ranks because the only thing you hated more than sorcerers was curses.

You knocked on the door sternly, “Your Highness, may I enter?”. You asked. You could almost hear him sigh on the other end before granting you the permission to enter.

“I told you not to call me that”. He chuckled and shook his head. He sat behind the oak desk resting his chin on his knuckles.

“That’s the appropriate way to address-”.

“”I decide what is appropriate”. Gojo cut you off. 

“As you say, your highness”. You smiled and took your place next to him. You stood with your hands pressed to your sides and your gaze fixed on the door in front. 

“Are you going to stand all day?”.

“Yes”.

“What if I ask you to sit?”. He looked up at you.

“I can best react to a threat in this position”.

Gojo bit the inside of his cheeks, “Threat? What threat is there now?”.

“A threat does not extend an invitation…not even to the king”.

Gojo clenched his jaw. Who turned you against him? Everything was fine yesterday, whom did you meet? What did they say?. He frowned and cleared his throat. “I don’t need you to protect me”.

“I see”. You hummed. “So I am just an accessory here”. 

Gojo stood up immediately and turned you towards him. By protocol, you refused to meet his eyes. He placed an index finger below your jaw and tildted your head up, “Look at me”. He whispered.

You slowly lifted your gaze up and looked into his deep blue ones. “I apologize for my rudeness ,your highness”.

“Did someone say something to you?”.

“No, your highness”.

“Y/n… I want you to remember that no one, in this entire kingdom holds any power over you. No one can remove you from my side, not without my permission…and that I would never grant. So tell me now, what happened?”.

“Nothing happened, your highness”. You said, it was hard to avert your gaze from his eyes. They were hypnotic, like they held the secrets buried deep beneath the oceans. If you looked long enough, you were sure you could count each speckle. They changed color when he moved his head, you had never seen anything of such beauty. You had heard about the secrets of six eyes, the power they held. But now you wondered, maybe their biggest power is their beauty. Anyone who looks deep enough would find themselves trapped in the infinite void. 

“Y/n,?”. Gojo called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You jolted and stepped back immediately, “I apologize, your highness!”.

“What were you thinking?”. Gojo asked, sitting on the edge of the table.

“Nothing, your highness!”.

“I order you to tell me the truth”. Gojo smiled. If you were going to abide by the protocol then so would he.

“I..I just..You have beautiful eyes, your highness!”. You declared like you were rallying a message instead of speaking your mind.

Gojo smiled to himself. It was the second time you had complimented his eyes.. “You have told me that already but thank you. Now I order you to speak freely to me. Tell me every thought that crosses your mind, is that clear?”.

“Yes..your highness!”. 

Gojo raised a brow and tilted his head, indicating you to speak up.

“Firstly, I am sorry for what I said to you yesterday outside the hall. Clearly I did not know whom I was talking to. Secondly….”. You bit the inside of your cheeks. Your rebel attitude might have gotten you far in troops but this is the King you are talking to. He can blow a hole through your body.

“Secondly?”. Gojo asked.

Aahh well fuck it. If you die then you die speaking the truth. “It was your fault!”. 

“My fault?”. Gojo asked, confused. 

“Yes! What were you doing there? Why were you sneaking around in your own palace? Are you that bored? Why didn’t you tell me that you were the king? Or were you spying on me? Did you have fun teasing me?”. You blurted out in one breath, prepared to take your last any minute now. 

Gojo chuckled. Then he laughed. “Wow…okay. You’re right. It was my fault. I apologize”. 

Your breath hitched and you looked around hesitantly. Did he just… Did the king just apologize? To you?

“What else is bothering you?”. He asked.

You scoffed, “I didn’t realize this was a therapy session”. 

Gojo chuckled. “This is…get to know my guard session”. 

“Speaking of guards…I know why I am here. By your side”. 

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. Did you really…

“Why is that?”.

You took a deep breath, “I heard the counsel talking … while I was going back to my room. I didn’t mean to snitch! And I am not complaining either!”.

“What..what did they say?”. Gojo asked irritatedly. He hated the counsel, always breathing down his neck, interfering with his work, demanding answers, but above all he hated them because of their mindset. Now he had another reason on his list.

“Well…They said that the only reason you chose me was because if you had chosen someone more powerful..a sorcerer then it would have become easier for them to keep you in line. So to keep them at bay you chose me because of my reputation but also because I am of absolute no use to you..”. You looked down at your hands clasped in front. “…or anyone actually”. 

Gojo gritted his teeth. Those rotten old raisins dared make you feel this way. He was going to avenge you. It was only fair. He sent a signal, invisible to your eyes and sat back in his chair. “Take your position, we are going to punish them”. Gojo winked.

“But you don’t even know who they were. I don’t even know they were”.

“Only two people will have the audacity to say something like that”. 

Soon two men walked in with their heads bowed down. “Your highness”. 

You watched them keenly. It was definitely them. But you wondered what Gojo would do. 

“Hizashi-san! I have good news for you!”.

The taller one out of the two straightened up. “Your highness you have honored me enough”. The old man smiled politely. He looked at you sideways and Gojo wanted to gouge his eyes out.

“Clearly not enough, Hizashi-san”. Gojo added. “Would Hizashi-san and Kyoshi-san appreciate the opportunity to help  advance our understanding of curse techniques?”. 

The other man stood up and looked at Gojo wide eyed. The last time Gojo had presented this opportunity to someone, That man was sent on a tour around the world and became a millionaire overnight. No one would dare refuse this opportunity.

The two men exchanged glances. Having been partners in crime for over two decades the two of them had the same vision in mind, leave the conservative kingdom and their annoying families behind and travel the world to meet exotic women! All they had to do in return was write a small thesis which they could fake because who was going to verify it anyway. They agreed right away and after discussing other small matters with him they left with a satisfied smile on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would reward them”. You commented with a sour taste in your mouth.

Gojo chuckled. “No. I did not reward them. Tonight when my soldiers will go to pick them up, they will be expecting to be led to the royal ship and begin their world travel. I am sure they would soon spread the news and before lunch everyone would know about it. But my soldiers will not lead them to the royal ship”.

You bit the inside of your lip, “Where will they be going then?”.

“They will be led to a dungeon outside the palace walls, where they will be thrown in with curses”.

“But they are sorcerers, experienced sorcerers?”.

“I am sure you are aware that even sorcerers have grades, the curses they will come across will be far beyond their imagination. I can assure you they won’t survive the torture till morning”.

“Torture?!”. You gasped.

Gojo smiled. Your innocence was sweeter than any honey head tasted. “Not every curse wants to ..kill. Some just want revenge from humans that created them. Death is too easy of a punishment for such…people”.

-X-

You lay awake at night in your bed. Thinking about how Gojo just condemned two people to death by torture only because they insulted you. You couldn’t sleep, thinking about the two men, who would now be on their way to death, blissfully unaware, excited by the prospects ahead of them. It dawned on you that the curses were not the that would torture them, it was Gojo. You groaned in your pillow. You needed a drink. 

The communal kitchen was open at all hours of the day. It was mostly used by guards looking for a late night snack after the night shift or sleepless guards who needed a drink to wash away the events of the day. You remained quiet as you poured the wine from a wooden flask into a glass. It was strictly against the rules to take away any eatables and wine back to the room but you were oh so tempted to take the entire flask back to your room. So you did. The rules be damned. 

If you had the ability to sense curse energies then the surprise awaiting you would have been spoiled and maybe you could have saved the flask of wine. But as soon as you opened the door, you saw the white haired sorcerer standing near your window with his hands behind his back, and the flask slipped from your hand, spilling the wine between the two of you, creating a small puddle of red. “Your Highness! I..I didn’t get your summon!”.

Gojo shifted his gaze from the puddle of wine to you. “Tough night?”. He smiled.

“I’m sorry. I know it is against the rules but I..needed something strong. I was going to return the flask! I swear!”. 

Gojo chuckled. “I understand. But now I feel guilty for ruining your plans”. He smiled.

“Oh no. I..I can clean it up in no time”. You rubbed the back of your neck. “Did you need anything, Your Highness?”.

Gojo suddenly realized that he did need a reason to see you. He couldn’t tell you that it was getting tough for him to sleep without you.”Oh! Right! I uh..I could not sleep either …..so..I..do you want to drink together?”.

“Now?”. You asked, wide eyed. There were no rules about drinking with the king so maybe it was allowed..

“Yes. I can get someone to clean up your room”.

You bit your lip nervously as you considered the offer. “I don’t know…I have to work tomorrow and…”.

“I am sure I can convince your boss to let you arrive a little late”. Gojo smiled his victory smile which left a fluttering feeling in your stomach. In moments like this it didn’t feel like he was the king. He felt like a friend. You liked that feeling.

-X-

You sat on the floor with Gojo, your head resting against the couch, giggling like long lost friends. One empty bottle of wine and one half filled bottle stood tall between the two of you.

“Tell me more about your life”. Gojo prompted.

“It is quite boring”. You added and took a sip from the crystal glass.

“Not to me”.

"Are you that bored of your life?”. You raised a brow.

“Not bored of my life, just interested in yours”.

“Well then, what would you like to know?”.

Gojo hummed and thought for a second, “Have you ever been married?”. Gojo asked. He knew the answer to that but he couldn’t ask directly if you had a boyfriend.

Your smile dropped for a second and Gojo’s heart sank. “I didn’t mean to-”.

“It’s fine”. You cut him off with a smile. “It was quite long ago so it doesn’t matter anymore”. You shrugged and took a sip. 

“So you were….married?”. 

“Engaged. Well..almost engaged”. 

Gojo’s heart was now beating loudly against his chest. How did he miss this?. “Why not, completely engaged?”. He asked, trying to keep his anger out of his words.

“Well because the guy…he cheated on me”.

“What?!”. Gojo frowned. How could he miss such an important detail? Who was this vermin who caused you so much pain?

“Yeah. We were together for quite some time but we managed to keep it hidden from everyone around us. When I decided to join the ranks he…didn’t like it. We had plans, you see. We wanted to work together to save enough money and re-build the bakery, get married, and all the other rosy-dosy stuff. I wanted to join the ranks because building the bakery was not enough for me. I wanted to avenge my grandma. Anyway, One day I returned from my training and found him with one of my friends..and I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore”. You took a deep breath and sniffled. “So I left the place and stayed with the troops and here I am”. 

Gojo remained silent. He knew you were currently in a legal battle with a man over the bakery but he did not know that this was the back story. He could have the bakery renovated and signed over to you before the sun rises but that would only drive you away. He wanted you to share these things with him so he could freely help you and gain your trust. “What happened to the bakery?”.

You swallowed painfully. “He took it from me. When I left, he forged the papers and took the bakery from me. He comes from a strong clan and I couldn’t do anything. I filed a case two years ago and there have hardly been four hearings”. You gave a defeated shrug, “It is highly unlikely it will go in my favor”.

Gojo hummed. Now he could make his move. 

“Enough about me, If I may be bold enough to ask, have you ever been in love, your-highness?”.

Gojo smiled to himself, “Yes. I have. In fact I am still in love with her”.

For some reason, the last part left a bitter feeling in your heart. You felt sad. But you shook it off to too much wine. “And..will we be getting a queen soon?”.

Gojo chuckled. “It is not going to be easy. I am not sure whether she feels the same”. 

“Who can reject you?”. You spoke almost too immediately, making Gojo laugh. 

“You think so?”. 

“Yes! I mean.. You seem like a good person and you are…good looking and of course you are the king”.

“The problem is that I am the king”.

You straightened up immediately and looked at him wide-eyed. “Is she a commoner? Or from a different kingdom?”.

“She is not from a different kingdom”. Gojo added.

“Wow!..you are in love with a commoner”.

“She is not a commoner either”. Gojo chuckled. He was having too much fun teasing you.

You frowned and looked confused. “So..if she is a noble-woman then what’s the problem? You can just go up to her and tell her that you love her”.

“Can I really do that?”. Gojo took a sip and looked at you from behind the rim of the glass. 

Even though you were slightly drunk, you were sure you felt the atmosphere shift. His voice turned an octave lower and the way he looked at you left your nerves tingling.

“I mean..yeah..Only a fool would reject such an offer”. You stuttered. 

“I want her to love me but not because I am the king”.

“Wow..you are really something. Respect!”.

Gojo threw his head back and laughed. 

“Wait! Is that why you appointed me? So you could ask me for tips to impress a woman? Oh my god your-highness!”. You laughed and shook your head. “Such a terrible decision!”. You shook your head and continued to laugh.

Gojo looked at you, it had been years since he last laughed like this. Since he was this happy. He watched your curly dance in the air as you shook your head, how your lips were tainted wine red and he was sure they would taste heavenly, the blush on your cheeks had his head spinning. He couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. He had waited twenty years for this moment and he was glad he did. 

“Alright, Your highness, I should leave now. Can’t be drunk and sleep deprived on duty”. You began to stand up and Gojo followed. Blood rushed to your head and dark spots lined your vision and you tripped backwards but instead of falling back you balanced yourself in the last second, leaving Gojo’s arm hanging behind you. “Woopsie! Sorry about that”. You chuckled and kept your glass on the side table. 

Gojo smiled and shook his head. Sometimes he forgot that this is all new for you. He had to be cautious and earn your trust the right way. One wrong move can push you away and he could not afford that. “Goodnight, y/n”.

“Goodnight, your-highness”.

Gojo stood on his balcony, leaning against the marble railing and sipping the last of wine but from your glass. Somehow it tasted sweeter. He watched your window keenly, waiting for you to reach. When the lights flicked on, he smiled to himself. He waited until the lights turned off and walked back in with a smile on his face.

-X-

The sun shone bright in the sky as you and Gojo sat under the shade of the tent and watched other soldiers spar. It was part of the regular training and it was his duty as the King to be present and motivate the soldiers. You sat next to him in a less ornamented chair and watched keenly. Few years ago you had been one of them, though you doubted if Gojo ever came to see you fight. But regardless, two hunks sparing was a sight to behold. Yes you were on duty but you could indulge in some eye candy. The soldiers fought in only loose trousers hanging low on the hip, you watched as their muscles flexed and relaxed under the sun.

“Y/n..”. Gojo called out to you but you seem distracted. “..y/n!”. He called out again and you snapped your head in his direction. 

“Yes! Your-highness!”.

“Enjoying the show?”. Gojo asked, frowning at the slight blush on your cheeks.

“Who wouldn’t?”. You retorted. 

Gojo bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He turned his head towards the soldiers and cursed himself for bringing you here. What was he thinking, letting you watch half-naked soldiers brawl with each other?  He stood up and started unbuttoning his coat. 

You stood up behind him, “Your-highness, what are you doing?”.

“I think it would be really motivating for the troops to see me fight, don’t you agree?”. Gojo smirked as he handed you the coat and began unbuttoning his shirt. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”.

“Why not?”. Gojo asked, struggling with one particular button.

“It can be dangerous”.

Goojo paused and stared at the ground. It was a massive hit on his ego. You thought him to be weak. “What did you say?”.

You sucked in a sharp breath and clutched his coat in your hand. “I..I mean that, you are a sorcerer and these men are not. It wouldn’t be a fair fight”.

“Who said that I was going to use any curse techniques?” He frowned. 

You could sense that you had offended him to some degree but there was no going back. He had an innate ability to sense lies and you did not want to risk lying on top of insulting him. “These men have relied only on their capabilities and strength to survive on battlefields. That’s all they know”.

Gojo hummed. “Pick one”.

“Pick one..what?”.

Gojo turned towards you with his shirt half buttoned and you had to fight every instinct to not avert your gaze. “Pick the strongest soldier”. 

“I don’t think that’s a good-”.

“y/n…Pick one.Now”. Gojo spoke sternly.

You remained silent, your quick tongue had gotten you into this place. You stared at him blankly, hoping that he would give up his pursuit soon. “You are the strong-”.

“Y/n!”. Gojo yelled, you flinched, everyone stopped and stared.

You let out a shuddered breath and looked at the row of soldiers, standing tall with their hands behind their back. Each of them seemed capable, yet your eyes landed on the one at the very end. He was almost as tall as Gojo and twice his size.You were unsure if you should really pick him or go for someone slightly weaker. But, Gojo had caught your gaze, he looked at the man and smiled like a devil. “Him? You think he is the strongest?”.

“Ye–yes, your-highness”. You admitted.

Gojo hummed and gestured for the man to step forward. He removed his shirt over his head in one quick motion and threw it on the chair. When you saw just how physically fit he was, it felt like someone punched all the air out of you. Who, in a million, years would have guessed that this existed beneath all those layers of clothes. Sure he was tall and broad but who could have guessed that he was this fit? You had spent years in camps with some of the strongest men in the kingdom but you knew now that they didn’t call him the strongest for his curse techniques alone. When Gojo stood opposite to the other soldier, you suddenly felt bad for the poor man. Gojo not only, towered over the man but also there was hardly any difference in their physical form.

They shook hands and bowed curtly and began. You were erect in your place, like a statue of a shell-shocked woman. As you watched Gojo deflect and attack in the same breath you wondered if it was even possible to do so.It was a move you had tried many times but failed to perfect and Gojo did it like it was as easy as breathing .The dust from the ground now clung to his skin and when the two men locked hands you knew it was over for the other guy. You realized…witnessed the difference between size and strength. Though you were no sorcerer, it was evident that Gojo was not using any curse techniques. Everything was raw and real. You could see the other soldier struggling to retain balance as Gojo landed one attack after another, hardly letting the other man catch his breath. The soldier was getting angry too, you could tell it was a matter of self respect for him as well and he was really giving it his all.You looked at Gojo and swallowed painfully, He was angry .A gust of wind had you covering your eye with the back of your hand to shield it from the dust, when the wind settled and you brought your hand down, you heard cheering and clapping. Amidst the cloud of dust you saw Gojo walking towards you, he had no expression on his face. He wasn’t happy that he won. People were cheering for him and yet it didn’t faze him. He refused to look at you and took the coat from your hand and walked away.

“Your-highness!”. You yelled as you chased after him. He didn’t even bother to look back as you ran through the corridors after him. “Your-highness!”. You huffed as you caught up to him but he refused to stop and kept walking. You tried your best to keep up with his long strides but it wasn’t easy. He had never walked this fast. “I..I apologize for my-“. 

Before you could finish that sentence, with one flick of his finger Gojo shut the door on your face. You stepped back and stared at the door. He was mad at you. “Fuck”. You muttered under your breath and took your place outside the door. 

Gojo rested his head against the rim of the marble tub and closed his eyes. His anger was slowly fading away with the ache in his muscle. He had to do it, he thought to himself, he had to show you that he wasn’t physically weak only because he had cursed techniques. It hurt him that you undermined him. It hurt him that you thought he needed protection when it was his job to protect you. He remembered the glint in your eyes as you saw the men fight, it was only natural for a fellow soldier to admire and respect the strength of others but it hurt him. Only he deserved to be admired by you. It hurt him to not see you the entire day, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the look of admiration for another man in your eye. 

Gojo stepped on the balcony in his velvet robe and looked at your window, the lights were off. It was well past dinner time and usually this was the time you would be in your room, reading a book. Then why are your lights off? Why weren’t you in your room? Were you out with someone else? Your friend, Niko? Or one of the men you met today? His blood boiled and he stormed out of his room and walked down the hallway connecting his bedroom and office through a back door. He was hoping to find you in the office, waiting for him with a bottle of wine but he found the office just as dark and empty as your bedroom. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.His mistakes finally caught up to him and now he couldn’t shake off the look on your face when he yelled at you. He closed his eyes shut and cursed himself, he treated you badly. He realized that now. He had to apologize to you, He had to correct his mistakes.He was about to send a signal to locate you when he heard a faint noise coming from the other side of the door.

Gojo walked slowly towards the door, immediately turning on his infinity. He pressed his palm flatly against the wood, trying to catch a hint of curse energy but found nothing. He frowned and slowly opened the door. 

“Your-highness!”. You straightened up immediately when you saw Gojo through the crack in the door.

“Y/n?”.Gojo frowned. “Yes, your-highness!”.

Gojo opened the door completely and looked either way but found no one. “What..what are you doing here?”.

You bit your lip nervously as you tried to keep your eyes away from his partially exposed chest. Now that you had seen him, it was hard to not imagine what lies underneath the robe. “You haven’t dismissed me yet, your-highness?”.

Gojo opened his mouth to say something but shook his head, “You..you have been here all day..because I didn’t dismiss you for the day?”.

“Yes,your-highness!”.

Gojo’s heart sank to his stomach. He looked at you, even in the dim lights, he could tell you were tired. “You are dismissed for the day”. Gojo added. He could see your posture relax as you indeed and gave a curt bow. 

“Goodnight, your-highness”. You turned around to walk away but Gojo was quick to grab your wrist.

“Stay”. He said. 

You turned around, and glared at him,”Why?”.

Gojo let go of your wrist and took a deep breath. “Have dinner with me”. 

“Is that an order?”. 

Gojo sighed, “No. It’s a..request”.

You raised a brow, “It didn’t sound like one”.

“Will you…please…have dinner with me?”. Gojo asked, hesitantly. This was probably the fourth time in his life he had to request something. 

“Are you still mad at me?”. Gojo asked, as he watched you finish your second bowl of rice”.

“Yes”. You replied, not looking at him and leaning over to grab the bowl of soup. 

“Why?”. Gojo whined and slid the soup bowl towards you.

“You yelled at me!”. You said, slamming the bowl on the table

“You undermined me in front of everyone”. Gojo added.

“I didn’t undermine you. I was just protecting you. That’s my job!”. You replied, while struggling to open the bottle of wine.

“No! You..you thought that I was not strong enough!”. Gojo grabbed the bottle from you and opened it in one go.

“And you proved me wrong so congratulations you won!”. You huffed, pouring the wine in two goblets.

“Then why are you still mad at me?!”.

“Because…you slammed the door in my face, refused to listen to me, and made me stand out there all day!”.

Uncomfortable silence lingered in the air. Gojo could see how hurt you were and it pained him. He didn’t touch his food because he was convinced that he didn’t deserve to eat.

“I..I’m sorry.. I should not have done that”. Gojo said.

“It’s not like it matters anyway”. You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“It does. It hurts me that I have hurt you. So please forgive me y/n. Tell me how do I make it up to you?”.

You looked at him with a frown on your face and then it hit you. Your frown turned into amusement and you stood up slamming your palm on the table, “Train with me!”. 

“What?”. Gojo chuckled.

“If you want to make it up to me then train with me”. You shrugged.

Gojo threw his head back and laughed.Were you really asking him to physically brawl with him? Like he could even bring his body to attack you. .“That’s not possible”. He added, shaking his head.

“Why not?”. You leaned forward, slamming your fist on the table. “If you can spar with those men then why not with me?”.

“Because..you are..you!”.

You poked your cheek with your tongue and nodded your head as you sat back down. “I see. Is it because you are the King?”.

Gojo looked at you, he wished he could tell you that it was because he cannot bring himself to hurt you even if it was for practice. “Yes..”.

You hummed in response. Obviously a King could not just train with you. It didn’t make any sense and you felt silly for even asking, “I guess then I will have to ask one of those men to train with me. I can’t-”.

“But I will make an exception for you!”. Gojo cut you off. The moment you said that his mind went into a frenzy. Another man sparring with you? Touching you? Throwing you on the ground? No. No. No. This was the perfect chance for him to get close to you.

“Seriously? Would you really?”. You asked, wide-eyed and excited.

“Yes. If it means that you forgive me”.

You smiled widely, “forgive you for what? You didn’t do anything wrong! You are the best King ever!”. You squealed with excitement.

Gojo laughed at how adorable you were. He rested his chin on his hand and watched you excitedly drink wine.  “So you agree that I am strong?”.

“Oh! Don’t even get me started on that! I don’t usually enjoy being proven wrong but I was pleasantly surprised!”.

Gojo watched with a satisfied smile as you went on to describe every move he made animatedly and how you wished you could do that instead. He didn’t even need to touch his wine to get drunk. Your words, your eyes, your smile was more intoxicating than all the wine of of the Kingdom combined.

@arisucat @bubera974 @ritsatoru @yevene @sofi786 @mokonasenpaiposts @allofffmypeaches @monsieurgucchi

@lilith412426

[stoportotouch]

obviously james is little and hodgson's son. kate, on the other hand, is hodgson and irving's daughter. so while neither one of them is in any way "normal" as an adult and while there are... Issues even though their dads Try because all of them have problems in great numbers they are very interesting.

thinking again about my Lieutenant Fankids. james is like hodgson's software running on little's hardware. kate is like if somebody tried to be hodgson twice at the same time. AND she is of course a lesbian.

[frankenfran]

genuinely hardest thing about being fat is how utterly cuntless the secondhand clothing game is. it's grandma stuff but not cute grandma stuff. i don't even know what to call the style but if you can imagine like. shit tim and eric wouldn't even wear while crossdressing because it's too tacky or like, something the mean old lady holding up the line at chipotle because she has to grill the worker on every single step would wear. it feels like all second hand clothing for fat girls was sourced directly from 2009 in the worst way. like the sum total of every single outfit the mom from zack & cody wore filtered through the mind of a very dull baptist woman. i would make a reference collage but i don't want something so unchic on my blog. at this point im just going to commission a fucking white mage robe and never take it off

[soulgazingwithbucky]

Mr. Barnes, Teacher Aide of the Year (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Your brooding Avenger boyfriend becomes a regular visitor in your classroom.

Warnings: flufffffff

Word count: 1k

A/N: absolute self-indulgence - can you tell I miss being a teacher lmao? also Bucky with kids also grumpy bf/playful gf dynamic ugh my heart

When your first graders ask if you're bringing anything to the show-and-tell party, a lightbulb goes off

"I would be the coolest teacher ever if an Avenger came to visit!" "I dunno, doll..." "Come on, you're so good with Cass and AJ!" "That's different. They're family."

You try to convince him by telling him Steve has done a lot for schools. Bucky looks confused so you show him the Captain America Fitness Challenge and all of Steve's PSAs. This derails the conversation for at least 24 hours as Bucky descends into a record-breaking laughing fit. He laughs in bed with you, he laughs at the dinner table, he visits Steve's memorial to laugh with him there

Eventually, he agrees. You wake up to him ironing a henley and chinos. You tut at him and he shoots you a disbelieving look

"Ah, come on, love, cheer up," you tell him as you grab your work bag. He's waiting for you by the door, grumpy as ever in the black leather jacket and steel toe boots he wears on missions. You tighten the buckle across his chest as he scowls at you. "It's for the kids!"

You spend the car ride convincing Bucky that the kids will love him. He carries your bags into the building, but you stop him short at the entrance. He raises his eyebrow at you as you grip the leather sleeve on his left arm and pull. "Oh, come oooonnnn, doll!" he groans as you wave him into the building, detachable sleeve in tow. "Give the people what they want, babe!" you say.

You prepare your classroom for the day before the kids come in. Your room is suddenly the most popular in the building as staff filter in and out, hearing rumors that an Avenger would be in the building. Your principal insists that Bucky speak to the whole school next time. Your work best friend gives him a friendly hug- you all just had dinner the other night, after all. The entire third grade team comes and gets pictures, each of them marveling at a different muscle group on your boyfriend

Your students LOVE him. You eventually have to ask him to spend some time in the teacher's lounge so your class can focus on your lessons

After that, he becomes a monthly visitor. You create a makeshift "Mr. Barnes Day" on the class calendar. The kids count down the days till they see him again

You have to collect black and yellow crayons from the other classrooms. Your supply runs out too quickly because your kids can't stop drawing themselves with a metal arm

One of your students is having a particularly challenging day. Bucky thinks quickly and takes the rest of your kids outside for an impromptu recess. You help your student calm down, and then you both watch Bucky and the class through the window. The kids are absolutely piling on top of him. Your kids proudly declare that they defeated an Avenger when they go home to their families

It's clear one of your students favors Bucky over you, and only accepts help from Bucky when he visits. She asks Bucky for help with a math worksheet, and his eyes widen when he watches her try to solve it. "This is not how we learned it in the '20s," he whispers to you

Bucky comes home one day, proudly declaring that he has the perfect book to read aloud to the class. The cover is a cartoon drawing of an all-American man with a vibranium shield. He is so excited to read "The Hero from Brooklyn" to your students. The final pages even have drawings of him and Sam, "the best friends a hero could have." "Mr. Barnes, is that youuuu?!" your kids wonder.

You turn Bucky's age into the word problem of the day. "If Mr. Barnes is 25 + 83 years old, how old is he?" Your kids frantically calculate on their papers. "108?!?!" your kids yell. Lukas says that's older than his grandma. Nevaeh says that's older than her great-grandma. Raja gently begins to describe color to him, and you both realize she thinks Bucky sees in black and white

Your students beg Bucky to come in during spirit week. They've missed him dearly, as he has been gone for two months on assignment with Sam. Tuesday is Career Day, and he compliments all the little doctors and teachers as they step off the school bus. He is shocked to see a little kid in all black with their arm wrapped in foil. But more and more Buckies filter in, until he is surrounded by a sea of mini-mes. "We're gonna be superheroes when we grow up!!!" they yell, arms adorned in refashioned black tights, foil, and gold body paint. Bucky sheepishly asks if you can take a picture. Bucky usually hates taking pictures, and his request makes your whole year

You told your class that Bucky was just your friend, but your students are way too smart to believe that, especially after Bucky accidentally calls you "sweetheart" in front of them. Graham misses a day for his aunt's wedding; he comes back and asks if you two would invite the class to your wedding. The class loses their marbles over this, yelling, "Mrs. Barrnnessss!" at you. Bucky turns red. During snack, some of the kids draw pictures of what your ring should look like. You proudly hang it up on your fridge at home

At the end of the year, you invite your students' families to a class celebration. You do this every year, but this year has the best turnout (gee, you wonder why). You have a silly awards ceremony, with certificates celebrating "Most Dinosaur Facts Memorized" and "Best at Catching Their Teacher's Mistakes". Bucky is a puddle of pride and love in the corner until the kids demand he comes up. He's confused until they shove a certificate in his hand: "Mr. Barnes, Best Teacher Helper Ever"

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 1

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you're eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy & not really edited word count: 1.3k authors note p1: don't mind me starting a new series when i have four other wips on the go :):) i love kid fics and this idea was stuck in my head so i wrote & decided to give it a go and post it. if this does well and you guys are interested, i'll do more. authors note p2: so notes about the series: i gave the readers daughter a name because i hate writing y/d/n lol of course you can change it in your head to something else if you want :) also the last name johnson is just there so i could have a full name but we all know she'll be a barzal also thank u @multifandombabes for giving me the push to post this!! happy reading & let me know what you guys think!

masterpost

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. You did your best to avoid places you knew he would be when he was home, going to visit your grandparents or other family. Anywhere that would give you the opportunity to not be seen by him, because then you’d have to explain your brown haired, green eyed, seven year old. 

You weren’t proud of your choice to keep Nora a secret from Mat but you did what you thought was right when you were eighteen, sitting on the floor of your best friend’s bathroom four weeks after you had said goodbye to Mat and staring at three positive pregnancy tests. He had just left for hockey and you didn’t want to be what held him back and as time went on, it got harder to pick up the phone so a few months after Nora was born, you erased Mathew Barzal from your life. You deleted the photos, phone numbers, social media, with the only reminder being the little girl.

And it worked fine. Until now.

Nora usually didn’t come grocery shopping with you because you always ended up taking three times as long as you normally would. Except, your sitter fell through and your mom couldn’t watch her so you had to bring her along. Which is totally fine until you run into Mat. Who has a girl with him. 

So yeah, everything was fine until now.

It’s kind of comical the way his panicked eyes dart between the three of the girls standing around him. A quick glance at Nora confirms that she’s two seconds away from saying something to Mat which will not go well since the kid has zero filter.

“Hey, you’re that hockey player mama and grandma watch on TV!” she exclaims and you want to melt straight through the floor when Mat looks at you with one eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah?” he asks, kneeling down so he’s at her level.

“Yeah,” she confirms, and then loudly whispers: “I’m not supposed to watch ‘cause some games are past my bedtime but sometimes I’ll sneak out.” 

He offers his hand and smiles. “Well, it’s nice to meet you…” he trails off, clearly hoping she’ll offer her name. You hope she just says her first name instead of announcing her full name which she tends to do lately.

“Nora,” she tells him, shaking his hand and then to your unsurprised horror, she proudly tells him her full name. “Nora Nadia Johnson.” 

He keeps the smile on his face but stiffens and gently drops her hand. 

“Cool name,” he says, still smiling but you can see the tension in his shoulders. 

“Thanks! My first name means light and my middle name-”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because you grab her hand, abandon your shopping cart and high tail it out of the store. She grumbles while trying to keep up with your pace and eventually you just pick her up and carry her to the car.

“What did we say about talking to strangers?” you ask while buckling her seatbelt, ignoring her annoyed sighs. 

“He wasn’t a stranger, you watch him on the TV all the time.”

“Have you ever met him?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and she mumbles something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“No,” she mumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and giving you a look that is so Mathew that you could laugh.

“Well then, he’s a stranger.” 

You leave it at that because she starts talking about the summer camp she’s starting next week. You’re only half listening, trying to get over the shock of seeing Mat and knowing he realizes that he probably has a kid you never told him about. If you were in his shoes, you would be angry so you are expecting him to show up on your doorstep later that evening but he doesn’t. Part of you wonders if the reason he doesn’t come is because of that girl he had with him but you figure if he really wanted answers, he would come regardless. 

What you’re not expecting, is a text from his sister Liana. You still see his family from time to time out in public but after you essentially ghosted Mat, they didn’t really want anything to do with you. When everybody found out you were pregnant, you lied and said it wasn’t Mat’s which nobody really believed but they couldn’t prove it and you’d used your mothers maiden name as Nora’s last name so there were no ties. You were surprised that his family didn’t tell him anyways, but you thought that perhaps they didn’t for the same reason you didn’t.

To give Mat no reason to stay here and instead, pursue his dreams and go play in the NHL. 

So a text from his sister is unexpected. 

Liana: hey, are you free for lunch tmw?

You almost delete it at first and pretend she never messaged you, but you know that there’s no going back now that Mat saw Nora. He’s not stupid. He probably went home and asked his parents about her. So you text her back a reluctant yes and agree on a spot to meet up the next day.

Nora goes to your moms house because you’re unsure if it will just be Liana who shows up, or if anyone else does. You meet up at a Starbucks and aside from the initial tension, it melts almost immediately and the two of you go back to the big sister/little sister relationship you had when you and Mat were dating. Except now, she’s all grown up.

After some catching up, the conversation turns to the reason she asked to see you. She hesitates, picking at her nails - a nervous tick you know she does - before sighing. 

“Look, everybody kind of turned their head with ‘The Nora Situation’ because it was clearly what you wanted, and it was probably what was best for Mat,” she says. “But he knows now, and he’s got questions that we can’t and won’t answer. Dad had to talk him down last night and his girlfriend went back to New York this morning.”

You wince at that, not liking that the reason his girlfriend left is because of Nora but Liana must notice because she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Honestly, she wasn’t very nice. I’m not broken up over it and Mat didn’t seem to be either.” 

Okay, that is interesting. 

“Anyway,” she continues, “this is Mat’s new number.” She slides a small piece of paper across the table and you gingerly take it. “I know you didn’t want to tell him, and I understand but he knows. So give him a chance, okay?”

You manage a nod and let her leave with the final word. All you want to do is take Nora and leave, to get as far away as you can but something inside you stops you from doing it because maybe Liana is right, and you should give Mat a choice. After all, you were the one who decided to take it away from him in the beginning. 

So later that night, after Nora is asleep, you curl up on your couch with the piece of paper and stare at it for a good fifteen minutes. Regardless of whether or not you text him, you will have to deal with this and you’d rather it be on your terms. You reluctantly type his new number in your phone and hesitate, trying to think of what to even say. This isn’t a conversation you were expecting to have with him. You type and delete a dozen messages before deciding on something simple.

To Mathew: Hey, I guess we should talk.

You take a deep breath, and hit send.

[unsoundedcomic]

Any fears for the next book besides the obligatory hoping that people like the new cast.

I've always known the second book is the riskier one; that's why I did Unsounded first. Duane is a pretty safe protagonist, very likable, and Sette isn't too far behind. There's that pesky Sette filter but most people fall for her once they're past it, when she's warmed up more to her attack zombie :)

Mikaila is a much more complex character than either of them, and she has a tendency to not do what you maybe want her to do. She does not sit around pining for her dead dad. She doesn't even remember him that well. She is dismissive of her mom and grandma. She does not make sound romantic decisions. She does not respect authority very much and often in a way that's less heckyeah! you're so cool! and more omfg, you spoiled brat! She's Lemuel's daughter and that guilty mofo has let her run wild.

Most of the conflicts are more grounded than they are in the first book. Broadly the plot concerns 1)What plays out in the city of Durlyne as the country erupts into religious civil war and 2)A new party investigates the claims that Lady Ilganyag made this chapter. These two narratives complement each other as the book goes along.

Of course I'm excited about it all but who knows if anyone else will be. We'll see, I guess! :)