#how does one write longer comments on tumblr like how shits pissing me off so bad what do I do

[onlyasimp4nobody]

WHY WONT TUMBLR LET ME WRITE LONGER COMMENTS ?? Tumblr hates loudmouths let me scream about the fucking fic in peace my GOD!

[naktergalen]

Rivamika Fic Suggestions List 2

Hey there again! It’s been a while since my last rivamika post and I apologies for that. I caught the reading bug and have just been hitting book after book. I might be doing a book of the month suggestion starting in March. I’m still thinking about it but if that is something your interested in let me know. Or if you just want book suggestions just message or ask me. But for now, I’m back with my second Rivamika Fic Suggestions List.

First of all, I want to thank you for all the comments and messages I received from my first list! I think it has over 150 notes now which is crazy for me. I was going to be ecstatic if it got like 10 likes or something hahaha! I’ve enjoyed talking to some of you about fics and other snk stuff. Feel free to do the same after this post! I know I take awhile to respond but swear I get there eventually.

Same rules as last time. I’ve split this list up into four categories. I wanted to let people know the status of some of these fics in case they did not want to start an incomplete or in progress story. All of these fics can be found on AO3. I’m going to try to link them but we will see how tumblr acts today. If you have any fic suggestions for me, feel free to message me with them and I can add them on to the next list. If any author sees their story on here and wants me to take it off the list, please let me know I don’t wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable. Also, last thing, I highly recommend leaving comments and kudos to the authors. I know that they greatly appreciate it and it helps them with improving their writing through feedback. Okay shutting up now, ON WITH THE LIST!

DISCLAIMER: I know that not all of these stories are not for everyone, these are just my opinions and suggestions.

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Completed:

- Thunder Clouds

Author: K_Lionheart

Rating: Mature

Sometimes I like to go to the very back of the Rivamika archive on AO3 and look for fics that have gotten buried over time. Low and behold what I have found lol! I enjoyed the emotional roller coaster when I was reading this fic, though sometimes I wanted to pull my hair out. Set after the titans are gone, humanity has to repopulate so arranged couples by the monarch are made to be wed. While this new order is being enforced, Mikasa and Levi are trying to work out their strained relationship. A slow burn with angst that will have you staying up till 3am dying to know what happens next. I know that there is a sequel to this fic called Nimbus and I’m slowly working my way through that one. Honestly, it will probably go on my next list.

- Red is the Only Colour

Author: mongoose_bite

Rating: Mature

A cute fic that was a quick but wild ride. A Little Red Riding Hood type of AU where Mikasa is a hunter of some sorts traveling through a town. I don’t want to say how Levi plays into all of this since it gets border line spoilers but just know that he is there. It is an opening ending fic for the author to come back if they plan on doing so but it can be interpreted in different ways. All in all, a fic worth of the quick read.

- Sing Me a Song

Author: LazyTrash

Rating: Mature

First I have to get this off my chest, I love the author’s name hahaha! I freakin wished I would have thought of that for mine! Anyway, this fic is wonderful but I will warn you that its a gut punch. If you like hurt and angst put together, then this is the story for you. I love these types of fics because I adore them so much but they hurt me in my soul. I don’t know what that says about me but whatever. I don’t want to delve into the story too much for spoilers but I would suggest rivamika fans to check this one out.

- Midnight Musings

Author: Raewyll

Rating: Teen

I just started to read Raewyll’s fics so I’m slowly working my way through all her works. This one caught my eye and I had to read it. This is a cute take on a chance meeting through texting the wrong number. I love the way Levi and Mikasa’s relationship blossoms into something more serious after causally texting back and forth. It’s one of those stories that I can only describe as being cute as shit! I’m definitely going to be checking out more of Raewyll’s fic in the future.

Ongoing:

- Beyond the Walls

Author: helena3190

Rating: Matue

If you love RIvamika angst, then look no further than this baby right here. This is currently my favorite ongoing fic. It was supposed to be a shorter story, but the author keeps adding more chapters so I’m not complaining hahaha! This fic is pretty much how I would *personally* picture canon Mikasa on how she would deal with realizing that she’s falling in love with someone. Its mostly told in the perspective of Mikasa as she is dealing with the after effects of war and trying to figure out what should she do with her life now that she is no longer a solider. Her feeling for Levi come with a lot of confusion as she’s discovering emotions that she has never felt before. She has a hard time pinpointing on what exactly describes her relationship with him. I’m anxiously waiting for the final chapter for this fic and dying to see how it will end for Mikasa and Levi.

- After the War

Author: loneackerman

Rating: Mature

I am loving this rivamika slow burn fic right here. Its similar to Beyond the Walls but I think the author adds their own taste of the 1920s into it. Set after the war is over (obviously), Mikasa and Levi have to figure out what they are going to do the rest of their lives. It has great tension, a perfectly paced gradual romance and just the right amount of humor to combat the emotional turmoil it puts you through. Again in my opinion, this is close to how I would realistically perceive Levi and Mikasa’s relationship evolving. I’m really enjoying this story and I’m looking forward to more updates to come!

- The Sound of Lightning

Author: LycheeGreenTea

Rating: Mature

A new fic that is just getting started but I can tell that what the author has in store is going to be interesting. Set several years after the end of the war, Levi and Mikasa are loving parents to a single child. Their peaceful life comes to an end when the family has a threat against them. There are not many long fics about Mikasa and Levi being parent so I was very happy when this one popped up on the AO3 feed. An exciting adventure awaits the Ackerman family now and I can’t wait to see where this fic goes in the future. There are three chapters as of now so head over there and check it out.

Incomplete:

- Home

Author: MissErikaCourt

Rating: Mature

One of the gems I found when diving back into the Rivamika archive. Ugh I HATE that this fic is incomplete!!! Its a good long fic but I’m greedy and I need more! I will give a warning first that this fic does contain heavy themes. Mikasa and Levi are in the underground to fight against a criminal ring. This story is a slow burn with action and emotional trauma. There is a wonderfully written OC that you easily get attached to its not even funny. Even though its not completed, I would highly recommend checking it out. I still have three more chapters to finish but I had to put it on this list. I know that I’m going to be pissed once I reach the last chapter written. If someone know MissErikaCourt, let her know that she needs to comeback to finish this masterpiece!

- Shiver

Author: bornsinner

Rating: Mature

Another one that I DISPISE its incomplete!!! Ugh such a great Office AU. It’s everything that I would want in an Office AU setting. Mikasa struggles between her committed long term relationship and her growing attraction (which starts to develop into some feelings) to her boss, Levi. Its hot, sexy and intriguing and it pisses me off that its not finished! The author writes each chapter as a one-shot but collectively together they tell the whole story. Highly recommend even though its so short. BORNSINNER where ever you are in the universe I hope you come back to finish this!!!

- Two Lines

Author: Crejhov

Rating: Mature

When this was getting updated it was my favorite on-going Rivamika fic. I would find myself checking to see if the author updated with a new chapter every week! The unplanned pregnancy trope is a classic one, but Crejhov does a fantastic job on keeping readers enthralled with soo many anticipated character meet up that are bound to cause hurdles for our expecting parents. This story is told from the perspectives of Mikasa and Levi in order for us to understand where their mindsets are as they plan for their expecting child and deal with their relationship. AHHHHH I want more of this!!! I was soo excited to see where this awkward journey was going to take Mikasa and Levi. CREJHOV COME BACK PLEASE I KNOW YOU HAVE WORK BUT PLEAAASEEEE! I NEEEEEEDDDD!!!

- Cabin Fever

Author: AmayaOkami

Rating: Mature

All I should have to say about this is that its written by AmayaOkami and that should explain it. Amaya is the one that gave us the beautiful incomplete rivamika fic Romance and Rivalry. I just adore her writing. Levi and Mikasa relationship evolves as they are standing guard over the arrested Kenny Ackerman. Secrets are discover about the Ackermans and it gets pretty steamy between our two favs. Great fluff and great sexual tension that leaves you wanting more chapters! Again AmayaOkami where ever you went I hope for some miracle that you come back and complete this one too!

One-Shot:

- Jade

Author: shulkie

Rating: Mature

This one-shot feels like I read a novel, it has such a great storyline. An arranged marriage between Mikasa and Levi leaves the relationship strained in the beginning. Their relationship evolves over time as Levi patiently brings down Mikasa’s wall. With smut added for all of your one-shot needs. Definitely worth the read in my opinion.

- What Remains

Author: Mirime

Rating: Mature

This one-shot gives us a glimpse into the secret relationship that Levi and Mikasa have been having while there are still scouts. This fic is sad but I would say it has a bittersweet ending. I think this was supposed to be part of a collection but I can’t find the rest of them. Still a great read by itself.

- Agape

Author: alienheartattack (Sanneke)

Rating: Mature

This fic is cute as shit! A College AU where Mikasa and Levi are childhood friends. Levi has to deal with Mikasa being at the same college as him while he is struggling with his changing feelings towards a grown up Mikasa. Worth the read as I said cute as shit, leaves you all warm and fuzzy lol!

- As Seen in Shadows

Author: MoraLeeWright

Rating: Explicit

FUCKING MORA! LEE! WRIGHT! UFFFFGGHHH Fuck I’m in love with her writing style. I really have nothing to say more that just go read it! Its hot and sexy and the sexual tension is off the fucking charts in this one. Its just MoraLeeWright smut thats all I can say. It’s great! JUST READ IT LMAO!

- Remedy

Author: NSummer

Rating: Mature

Another hot smut one-shot coming your way! Levi and Mikasa have had an ongoing affair and this just recounts their first time together. Its just some good ol’ Rivamika smut that I think that everyone in this community would enjoy.

- Nutty: Drunk in Love

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Mature

A fun smut to read about Mikasa getting “revenge” on her asshole boss, Levi. Things don’t go the way she plans as things get a little heated in the sexy way. A quick smut that I think is perfect for a little Rivamika crave.

- Spicy: Jalapeno

Author: Hallow17

Rating: Explicit

Another fun smut to read by Hallow17. Levi has been stressed out at work and Mikasa finds a way to help him get his mind off it (if you know what i mean). Again perfect for a Rivamika quick fix.

[struwwelzeter]

I’m surprised yet I’m not surprised that I haven’t seen anyone on tumblr talk about the Balenciaga collab. Twitter and Instagram are almost universally panning the move and are quite pissed off at it. Personally I think the collab was a dumb and tone deaf move on the management, but I can’t fuss about it too much because of a lot previous musicians I liked ate these kinds of designer streetwear brands up and I just had to turn a blind eye to it eventually.

😕 I was really happy tumblr largely ignored it because I expected the outrage and dreaded it. My take is not gonna be a popular one, and I am sorry it’s probably not what you hoped to get. I’ll try to explain why, but I do have big feelings about this and I don’t know how articulate i can be.

The thing I am seeing in all of these comments, and what I think you refer to when you say it was tone deaf, is a lot of hurt. And in a way I completely, 100% understand that. The problem is, I think, that it’s misdirected when it is directed at the band. The fact that some well off fashion victim can drop what some of us earn in a month on a hoodie, hurts. It hurts that people that have been with this band for years and years, have saved any and each magazine clipping they can get their hands on and struggle to save up for months to buy a concert ticket while other people can do that - that shit hurts. And I understand that. I really do. I feel it too.

The thing is though, and this is where I fear what I say could be taken the wrong way: Rammstein doesn’t owe anyone anything. They don’t owe anyone to stick with only accessible merch, they don’t owe us some weird class loyalty where they turn stuff like this down. They just don’t. Why would they? Why? Because the thing that is hurtful about it is systemic, and they don’t owe us to fix systemic unfairness. They don’t owe anyone to not take advantage of it either, when it is offered to them, because they aren’t exploiting anyone but the exploiters, if that makes sense. They just don’t. Sorry. They are a well off band, but they aren’t rich enough to fix capitalism. I am gonna ask you very honestly, would you say no to becoming successful in a system that by it’s very nature devalues what you do, makes it a huge lottery draw if you can even make a living of what you do and takes advantage of you wherever it can? Rammstein got very lucky, and worked very hard for longer than most people on this website are alive. But in general, the way this society treats people like them, yes, even a large potion of their fan base, is a disgrace. They are a 1 in I don’t know how many cases of people who took the same risks and had the same passion and didn’t make it. And I think they know that too. I am sorry, but they’ve earned it.

I grew up far below what is considered the poverty line in my country, in a community of artists, and I feel very strongly about this one thing: The same person that will drop a 6 figure number on a painting will tell you not to go to art school and get a real job instead, because you can never be “successful” that way (whatever they mean by that.) Please read that sentence again.

Society doesn’t give a shit about artists. And when I mean “society” I actually mean fans, too, because ... I could write an essay about this, but basically because they complain more about not getting a ticket refund than the fact that currently thousands of artists fall by the wayside and won’t make it through this pandemic. I repeat, society, AT large, don’t give a wet fart about artists. It pretends it does, because they want to look cultured, but it really doesn’t. Every now and then they lift one up into the heights of the glittery temples of fame and stardom, to circle jerk with their art criticism and their champagne events and photo ops. And it’s disgusting it works that way, yes. But again, that is systemic. And what I need you to understand is that the majority of people who turn to the extremely precarious lifestyle of trying to paint or to make music for a living, take up with how the world is treating them, take the risk of falling of the grod financially, take the degradation of being asked to “work for exposure” and the “why are you still doing this, wouldn’t it be easier to —— it’s clearly not going anywhere” questions year after year after year for ... they do it for that one tine little chance to be that 1 that gets lifted. This isn’t about the passion — you don’t make art to be “successful”, there are so much easier ways. It’s about taking the merciless grind and maltreatment for that one shot to one day be seen and recognised as worthy people and to get out of the grind. And when it happens, they are supposed to turn it down? Why?

Sorry, but no.

I understand that this is an inflammatory take. I do, in a way, understand why people get angry. I just don’t agree with the direction of the anger - at all. The thing is, if you look at it in a more innocent way, the creative director of Balenciaga, as I understand it, was a civil war refugee who somehow managed to become the leading designer on one of the biggest name in fashion. Do you think it was likely for him to get there? Do you think it was ever easy for any boy to become a fashion designer against a backdrop of constant teasing and a probably even smaller chance of “making it” than musicians? But he did it, and turns out he is a Rammstein fan. So he does what he loves. Big deal. To be clear: I think the existence of brands like Balenciaga is stupid to me too. But still - the same person that will drop a 1000€ bucks on a raincoat will tell you not to go to fashion school, you know? Rammstein also have a history of being in the high fashion world. They had 3 exclusive photoshoots with zoo magazine in the time they had like, idk, 1? With Rolling Stone, they were in fashion magazines first in the US, they had runway shows in their early career ... this was a long time coming. I WAS surprised it was Balenciaga. I hoped it would be something like Givenchy or McQueen but I guess they’re not that classy - what do you expect from a bunch of guys who wear sandals with tracksuits.

Another take I see quite often is the whole “well now there will be knock offs and people that don’t even know the band will start wearing it” and while that is a huge pet peeve, I have to think of Flake writing about that in his book and being all awed by how anyone could become that big - and just feeling a but of a misty eyed satisfaction of “they made it.”

I understand people are angry. But maybe consider of you’re really angry at the band - or simply the fact that we live in a world where some people have to make a living for weeks off the same money someone else drops on a t-shirt.

[crowsent]

a fuckton of things i want in da4

a few words censored bc tumblr will swallow this in the void if i dont. long ass fuck list ahead

a romanceable dwarf

more romanceable elves/qunari

more elf/qunari/dwarf companions

consistent writing for once

more nb representation

good hair. please just give me good hair options. give me long hair. give me luxurious flowing locks. give me braids. give me good fucking hair options

let me shittalk the chantry

dalish elf npcs that impact the plot in unique ways

dalish elf companions that are proud of being dalish

if it is set in tevinter maybe uh. maybe address the issue of systemic oppression (and slavery) of elves???????

a return of the friendship/rivalry system in da2 but improved. maybe instead of a friendship rivalry sliding scale its friendship/rivalry/animosity sliding scale. bc rivalry is more like. two people pushing each other to be better than they were before. friendly competition. hes an idiot but hes my idiot kind of deal. animosity would be just regular disapproval. i liked the crisis cutscenes in dai so high animosity would be the same as low approval and might make the companion leave still, but theres more variety with high approval. high approval “friendship” would be the “were best friends and we share many opinions and agree on almost everything” while high approval “rivalry” being “we disagree on almost everything but goddamn it youre my friend and ill follow you into the fade if i have to” so you can have a high approval with someone instead of being a kissass

actions and choices having consequences again

multiple endings again (epilogue slideshows dont count)

dialogue wheels with descriptions that match what you actually say

characters from rivain, antiva, anderfels, etc

gifts. bring back the gifts. i want to give my companions gifts

maybe. maybe a focus of non-andrastian religion for once?

let me shittalk the chantry

i know its a stretch, but maybe. diverse skin colours. please?

nd characters that are written respectfully and treated w dignity

please bring back the talent wheel from dao and da2

more bi romance options

more wlw romance options

more mlm romance options

ace romance options

nb romance options

background romances

let me shittalk the chantry

far fetched but maybe a polycule?

i lowkey LOVED the fast-paced feel of da2s combat so maybe bring that back in some form? maybe improved to mesh with the tactics of dai to give players absolute freedom of playstyle whether they want to be like me and rush into every encounter or play more strategically

companions with unique companion abilities

would be nice to explore cities

would be nice if the open world were a little smaller so it doesnt feel empty all the gd time

more mage spells. mages felt like just another class of fighter to me in dai. they dont really have any awe-inducing wow factor like in dao or even da2. if the narrative wants me to believe that mages are powerful and dangerous and that it takes multiple templars to hunt down an apostate, maybe show that? give me strong mages

remove the jump ability. its pointless

a narrative that addresses the oppression that the chantry and templars perpetuated please

bring back the attributes

make the choices in dai matter. mages governing themselves? i wanna see that

let me shittalk the chantry

please bring back the healing magic for fucks sakes

multi-class system between rogues and warriors?

multiple specialisations that feel like specialisations and not just skill tree+

player-only skill trees

hardening

companion quests that affect their abilities and further dialogue

actual morally grey choices instead of this stupid mage freedom vs templar oppression narrative that is in no way morally grey but is presented as such and thus leaves the conflicts and narratives set up by dao and da2 to be fucking meaningless

bring back the tactics

would be nice to have an origins-esque prologue again. maybe one that would determine future events in game just to give your character better narrative cohesion with the plot

an approval/disapproval system but for companions with other companions. bringing certain companions together may bring them closer or make them pissed off with each other which affects banter maybe quests maybe combat

give me a fucking mabari bioware. give me back my fucking mabari

day/night cycle

a nightmare mode where you have to finish the main quest on a time limit. it is absurd that dai expects me to believe that i have all this time to do wartable missions that can take literal real life DAYS to finish and still thwart corypheus’ plans in time. bullshit

that said. no more wartable missions. waiting for a countdown to finish isnt very fun

let me shittalk the chantry

kal-sharok. ive been hearing about it since dao let me fucking see kal-sharok

dwarven politics

politics in general. my fav dao quest was the succession crisis plotline in orzammar/the landsmeet and wewh in dai

npcs i can talk to. even with generic dialogue like in dao. makes the world more alive

using the environment to your advantage. far fetched but i would love to be able to pull down boulders if were in the mountains or freeze water to get to places as a mage

home base customisation but the customisation choices you make actually. mean something. and do something. or at the very least give more companion dialogue/banter/approval change

laconic and ergonomic codexes. like. sorted by what kind of codex it is, etc etc but then you just get a brief summary of the codex and the option to read more about it so i dont spend eternity scrolling through cards looking for a specific codex entry. cool aesthetic dont get me wrong but real irritating to deal with. also. maybe. the pc making comments about the codex if you do read more about it? like a dalish elf saying “they got it all wrong” when reading a codex about dalish elves written by a human??? that would a) give character to the pc b) incentivise people to actually read the codex to see what was so wrong about it c) summarise the codex for people who want to learn the lore but dont want to spent the entire game reading text

maybe have the merchants in your home base close to crafting stations so you dont have to take a fucking hike if you miscounted the amount of elfroot you need?

let me shittalk the chantry

avvar companion maybe??? interesting lore right there

bring back stat requirements for weapons and remove the class restriction for most shit. obviously a dagger would be better for a rogue than a longsword and a mage would do better with a staff than a sword and shield but its not about efficiency. its about the roleplay. its about the options. give me the option to make a mage with wildly inappropriate stat distribution

bring back sustained mode abilities

traps. bring back traps. bring back the option to stealth into an area, trap the fuck out of it, and go from there

have the three available classes in kind of a rock paper scissors scenario. warriors do real well against rogues who do real well against mages who do real well against warriors. so you can plan your party depending on who/what youll face AND how much their approval will change during the quest you take them on

let me shittalk the chantry

actually resolve the plot points introduced in dai

a more threatening villain. the inquisitor thwarted every attempt made by corypheus in dai. he was not threatening at all

queer characters. background, companions, etc. queer characters

mounts were meh in dai. maybe. make them faster? or less cumbersome? or have your companions on mounts too so theres still banter?

i liked the armour tinting. let me have armour tinting from the beginning

i would really like mages to move and attack at the same time bc lowkey standing in one spot is uhhhhhhh kinda boring

let me check companions friendship/rivalry levels

would be nice if the narrative acknowledged that elves suffered greatly at the hands of the chantry and stopped victim-blaming them

more taverns. specifically like tapsters in dao where theres a dwarf just reciting something in a language i cant understand and if you look its a ballad/poet about dwarven culture and that was a real nice touch let me have that

dalish elf clan. dalish elf clan that does not get murdered please and thank you

meaningful quests. more cinematic dialogue

make found gear / quest reward gear more valuable than crafted gear

game modifiers like in dai were real nice. i want more

let me shittalk the chantry

quests that can be resolved in multiple ways. like connors fate in dao. and for those ways to impact further quests

companions with varying moral alignments

companions that are mutually exclusive (like alistair and loghain) but are both good companions so itd really make you think

a pc that IS NOT a “chosen one” vanilla da2 is my fav dragon age game for one reason and one reason only and that is because hawke is just some random refugee who escaped lothering. no chosen one magic at all. just an ordinary person who is a real good fighter. and that appealed to me more than this “you are the only one who can do it” narrative

let me meet more elvhen gods

if the setting is in tevinter, GIVE ME FUCKING ARCHITECTURE. give me the high spires, the archways, the buttresses, give me statues lining city gates and magic infused into the buildings. tevinter is a land ruled by MAGES give me magical architecture. give me floating buildings. give me fire floating as orbs above the streets like lamps. GIVE ME ARCHITECTURE

SHALE

let me shittalk the chantry

PIERCINGS GIVE ME FUCKING PIERCINGS BIOWARE

more main quests, longer main quests

if it is set in tevinter maybe. maybe address the fact that tevinter has been at war with the qunari for a while? on and off war is still war. and maybe give us the option to influence the outcome of that war?

more voice options. instead of just american voice or british voice, do the thing in dao again where there are multiple voices of different tones to further cement the pcs personality

more armour designs

biased but uh. can. can taliesen jaffe va a character?

i already said qunari companions but specifically saarebas companions

blood magic

FINISHING MOVE ANIMATIONS

please do not let it be as long as inquisition. inquisition was a SLOG in later playthroughs

body sliders. what if i want a tall but lanky qunari? what if i want a buff as shit elf? body sliders

more eye options

let me call out companions

btw bioware. if you really wanted cullen to be a good guy. maybe handle his fucking redemption arc a little better instead of retconning all the terrible and creepy shit hes done in the past k thx

can female walk/run animations not have. so much swaying hips? no one moves like that

personality dialogue that affects future dialogue like in da2 but meshed with the wider range of emotions introduced by dai

keep the race/s*x lock on romance candidates like in dai. keep the fact that some characters can only be romanced by certain races or s*xes

nb and genderqueer options for the pc

cutscenes of companions interacting

ngl i lowkey liked the random encounters of dao so maybe bring that back

my fav quest in dao is the landsmeet / orzammar succession crisis questline but you know whats my second favourite? the rescue mission if the warden gets captured and you have to play as your party members. give me that again

more creepy/dark shit. dai was too lighthearted for me esp after da2 and dao

let me shittalk the chantry

broodmothers. in hd.

red lyrium broodmothers. in hd

companions with different backgrounds. different faiths. different statuses. different families. etc

maybe make the pcs appearance make an impact on the story? like how bull says he likes redheads, but even if you are a redhead, he says nothing about it????? maybe keep track of which slider the player picks so that can affect the story?

i love my inquisitors but maybe. dont. bring the inquisitor in as anything more than an advisor/npc in this game? let me fall in love with a new pc???

if theres gonna be a homebase like skyhold where youre not in armor. maybe give us better clothing?

a kind of gear skin mechanic similar to ac:odyssey where you can change how the gear looks but keep the stats. so you can equip that higher level armour and keep the look and aesthetic of your old armour and you unlock the skins/looks of the armours you discover/make so you can be both powerful AND aesthetic

i enjoyed the nobility/underworld/arcane/etc knowledge in dai unlocking more dialogue options so maybe keep/expand on that but make it more accessible by side missions or companions or something that isnt the abysmal perk system in dai

let me shittalk the chantry

customisable walking animations. does the pc walk straightbacked? slouched? with a swagger? please

since there will undoubtedly be an obligatory fade sequence, maybe have an option for nightmare demons that ARENT spiders. thank you

slap on subtitles and conlang some languages. i want to hear elvish. i want to hear tevene. give me the languages

more dragons. esp if they look vastly different

more bard songs

i am completely biased here, but i would like to hear laura bailey as a va for a character. preferably a voice option for the pc

hey maybe have the true ending actually included in the base game and not in a dlc (tresppasser cough cough)

better val royeaux

please remove the had to do it to em idle animation tis distracting

on that note, more idle animations. maybe some unique to companions?

very trivial but. unique stair climbing/descending animation

bring back talking to companions on the road. maybe with some dialogue that can only be said on the road???

if banter is interrupted, make like rdr2 and pick up where the banter left off

more vallaslin designs please?

if theres another formal scene like dai maybe. give us. decent clothing. or better yet, decen clothing OPTIONS. i wanna decide how i look in a ball full of haughty orlesians

mage vs templar conflict resolved and addressed please. it is NOT resolved in dai. what we got was sequel bait and a slideshow. resolve it please

let me shittalk the chantry

a pro-mage anti-circle circle mage companion like anders

religious person who doesnt victim-blame elves in the codex or in game or anywhere please

characters more like leliana who question the chantry and acknowledge its corruption and greed

unapologetically sapphic companion

idc if its tevinter i dont want to fucking see queer people being disrespected

a true tal-vashoth companion, one who escaped from the qun

have quest decisions affect whether or not a companion will turn hostile to you or not

if IF solas will be redeemed, please do the redemption arc right

more horn options for qunari

an apostate mage who doesnt use me for their personal agenda whilst hiding something from me (morrigan, anders, solas) thanks

i really dig the whole “leader of an army” thing dai was trying to go for. but you didnt actually. lead. anything. would be nice to have that option. command soldiers. send them places that affect further quests. would even use the wartable for its intended purpose. planning wars. battles. like. you get sent word that there are bandits harassing villagers. you can set up an ambush with your soldiers or confront them headon, and theres a new mini-location on the map like the manor you meet vivienne in where you can go deal with the bandits and depending on your choices, there are actually soldiers with you in a field, or traps in a narrow pass, or even in a city. id rather the wartable shit dont return but if they have to, at least this way youre not just waiting real life time for a bunch of text to appear

i am real fucking excited for the possibility that da4 companions can just fucking die on you. good shit. give me that angst

missions that certain companions would refuse to go with you to. you know. so you actually have to use other members of your party instead of the same 3 (three) people all the goddamn time

disabled characters (i want a character who suffers from the same chronic bad leg disease as i do is that too much to ask)

kinda touched on by the da2 combat point but let me do close combat damage with the staff

no multiplayer. and if there is a multiplayer, dont tie it with achievements

let me fucking explore weisshaupt

(i dont think solas will be the endgame villain of da and i dont think da4 will be the last da game but still) again. for emphasis. resolve the plot points dai brought up

full-body scars and tattoo options

companions and npcs changing their opinions about things over time. eg: a pro-circle mage wanting instead for circles to be abolished after a specific side mission or a main quest decision etc

keep the multiple companion quests. and maybe change what kinds of companion quests are available further down depending on choices made in previous companion quests

please for fucks sake give us more characters of colour

let me shittalk the chantry

[whitehotharlots]

Andrea Long Chu is the sad embodiment of the contemporary left

Andrea Long Chu’s Females was published about a year ago. It was heavily hyped but landed with mostly not-so-great reviews, and while I was going to try and pitch my own review I figured there was no need. Going through my notes from that period, however, I see how much Chu’s work—and its pre-release hype—presaged the sad state of the post-Bernie, post-hope, COVID-era left. I figured they’d be worth expanding upon here, even if I’m not getting paid to do so.

Chu isn’t even 30 years old, and Females is her debut book, and yet critics were already providing her with the sort of charitable soft-handedness typically reserved for literary masters or failed female political candidates. This is striking due to the purported intensity of the book: a love letter to would-be assassin Valerie Solanas, the thesis of which is that all humans are female, and that such is true because female-ness is a sort of terminal disease stemming not from biology but from one’s inevitable subjugation in larger social contexts. Everyone is a woman because everyone suffers. Big brain shit.

But, of course, not everyone is a female. Of course. Females are females only some of the time. But, also, everyone is a female. Femaleness is just a title, see. Which means it can be selectively applied whenever and however the author chooses to apply it. The concept of “female” lies outside the realm of verifiability. Suggesting to subject it to any form of logic or other means of adjudication means you’re missing the point. Femaleness simply exists, but only sometimes, and those sometimes just so happen to be identifiable only to someone possessed with as a large a brain as Ms. Chu. We are past the need for coherence, let alone truth or honesty. And if you don’t agree that’s a sign that you are broken—fragile, illiterate, hateful, humorless.

Chu’s writing—most famously, her breakthrough essay “On Liking Women”—establishes her prose style: long, schizophrenic paragraphs crammed with unsustainable metaphors meant to prove various fuzzy theses simultaneously. Her prose seems kinda sorta provocative but only when read on a sentence-by-sentence level, with the reader disregarding any usual expectations of cohesion or connection.

This emancipation from typical writerly expectations allows Chu to wallow proudly in self-contradiction and meaninglessness. As she notes herself, explicitly, meaning isn’t the point. Meaning doesn’t even exist. It’s just, like, a feeling:

I mean, I don’t like pissing people off per se. Yes, there is a pleasure to that sometimes, sure. I think that my biggest takeaway from graduate school is that people don’t say things or believe things—they say them because it makes them feel a particular way or believing them makes them feel a particular way. I’ve become hyper aware of that, and the sense in which I’m pissing people off is more about bringing that to consciousness for the reader. The reason you’re reacting against this is not because it contradicts what you think is true, it’s because it prevents you from having the feeling that the thing you think is the truth lets you feel.

And so she can get away with saying that of course she doesn’t actually believe that everyone is a female, the same as her idol Valerie Solanas didn’t actually want to kill all men. The writers, Chu and Valerie, are just sketching out a dumb idea as a fun little larf, to see how far they can push a manifestly absurd thought. If they just so happen to shoot a gay man at point blank range and/or make broader left movements so repulsive that decent people get driven away, so be it. And if any snowflakes complain about their tactics, well that’s just proof of how right they are. Provocation is justification—the ends and the means. The fact that this makes for disastrous and harmful politics is beside the point. All that matters is that Chu gets to say what she wants to say.

This blunt rhetorical move—which is difficult to describe without sounding like I’m exaggerating or making stuff up, since it’s so insane—papers over Chu’s revanchist and violent beliefs. Her work is soaked with approving portrayals of Solanas’ eliminationist rhetoric—of course, Chu doesn’t’ actually mean it, even though she does. Men are evil, even as they don’t really fully exist since everyone is a woman, ergo eliminating men improves the world. Chu goes so far as to suggest that being a trans woman makes her a bigger feminist than Solanas or any actual woman could ever be, because the act of her transitioning led to the world containing fewer men. Again: big brain shit.

I’ll leave it to a woman to comment on the imperiousness of a trans woman insisting that she is bestest and realest kind of woman, that biological women are somehow flawed imposters. I will stress, however, that such a claim comes as a means of justifying a politically disastrous assertion that more or less fully justifies the most reactionary gender critical arguments, which regard all trans women as simply mentally ill men (this line of reasoning is so incredibly stupid that even a dullard like Rod Drehar can rebut it with ease). Trans activists have spent years establishing an understanding of transsexualism as a matter of inherent identity—whether or not you agree with that assertion, you have to admit that it has political propriety and has gone a long way in normalizing transness. Chu rejects this out of hand, embracing instead the revanchist belief that transness is attributable to taking sexual joy in finding oneself embarrassed and/or feminized—an understanding of womanhood that is simultaneously essentialist and tokenizing. When asked about the materially negative potential in expressing such a belief, Chu reacts with a usual word salad of smug self-contradiction: 

EN: You say in the book that sissy porn was formative of your coming to consciousness as a trans woman. If you hadn’t found sissy porn, do you think it’s possible that you might have just continued to suffer in the not-knowing?

ALC: That’s a really good question. It’s plausible to me that I never would have figured it out, that it would have taken longer.

EN: How does that make you feel? Is that idea scary?

ALC: It isn’t really. Maybe it should be a little bit more, but it isn’t really. One of the things about desire is that you can not want something for the first 30 years of your life and wake up one day and suddenly want it—want it as if you might as well have always wanted it. That’s the tricky thing about how desire works. When you want something, there’s a way in which you engage in a kind of revisionism, the inability to believe that you could have ever wanted anything else.

EN: People often talk about the ubiquity of online porn as a bad thing—I’ve heard from lots of girlfriends that men getting educated about sex by watching porn leads to bad sex—but there seems to me a way in which this ubiquity is helping people to understand themselves, their sexuality and their gender identity.

ALC: While I don’t have the research to back this up, I would certainly anecdotally say that sissy porn has done something in terms of modern trans identity, culture, and awareness. Of course, it’s in the long line of sexual practices like crossdressing in which cross-gender identification becomes a key factor. It’s not that all of the sudden, in 2013, there was this thing and now there are trans people. However, it is undoubted that the Internet has done something in terms of either the sudden existence of more trans people or the sudden revelation that there are more trans people than anyone knew there were. Whether it’s creation or revelation, I think everyone would agree that the internet has had an enormous impact there.

One of the things I find so fascinating about sissy porn is that it’s not just that I can hear about these trans people who live 20 states away from me and that their experiences sound like mine. There is a component of it that’s just sheer mass communication and its transformative effect, but another part of it is that the internet itself can exert a feminizing force. That is the implicit claim of sissy porn, the idea that sissy porn made me trans is also the idea that Tumblr made me trans. So, the question there is whether or not the erotic experience that became possible with the Internet actually could exert an historically unique feminizing force. I like, at least as a speculative claim, to think about how the Internet itself is feminizing.

Politics, like, don’t matter. So, like, okay, nothing I say matters? So it’s okay if I say dumb and harmful shit because, like, they’re just words, man.

Chu can’t fully embrace this sort of gradeschool nihilism, though, because if communication was truly as meaningless as she claims then any old critic could come along and tell her to shut the fuck up. Even as she claims to eschew all previously existing means of adjudicating morality and coherence, she nonetheless relies on the cheapest means of making sure she maintains a platform: validation via accreditation. This is all simple victimhood hierarchy. Anyone who does not defer all of their own perceptions to someone higher up the hierarchy is inherently incorrect, their trepidations serving to validate the beliefs of the oppressed:

I like to joke that, as someone who is always right, the last thing I want is to be agreed with. [Laughs] I think the true narcissist probably wants to be hated in order to know that she’s superior. I absolutely do court disagreement in that sense. But what I like even better are arguments that bring about a shift in terms along an axis that wasn’t previously evident. So it’s not just that other people are wrong; it’s that their wrongness exists within a system of evaluation which itself is irrelevant.

Chu has summoned the most cynical possible interpretation of Walter Ong’s suggestion that “Writing is an act of violence disguised as an act of charity.” Of course, any effective piece of communication requires some degree of persuasion, convincing a reader, listener, viewer, or user to subjugate their perceptions to those of the communicator. Chu creates—not just leans on or benefits from, but actively posits and demands fealty to—the suggestion that her voice is the only one deserving of attention by virtue of it being her own. That’s it. That’s what all her blathering and bluster amount to. Political outcomes do not matter. Honesty does not matter. What matters is her, because she is her. 

This is the inevitable result of a discourse that prizes a communicator’s embodied identity markers more than anything those communicators are attempting to communicate, and in which a statement is rendered moral or true based only upon the presence or absence of certain identity markers. Lived experience trumps all else. A large, non-passing trans woman is therefore more correct than pretty much anyone else, no matter how harmful or absurd her statements may be. She is also better than them. And smarter. And gooder.

Designating lived experience and subjective feelings of safety as the only acceptable forms of adjudication has caused the left to prize individualism to a degree that would have made Ronald Reagan blush. And this may explain the lukewarm reception of Chu’s book.

While they heaped praise upon her before the books’ release, critics backed off once they realized that Females is an embarrassingly apt reflection of intersectional leftism—a muddling, incoherent mess, utterly disconnected from any attempt toward persuasion or consensus, the product of a movement that has come to regard neurosis as insight. The deranged mewlings of a grotesque halfwit are only digestable a few pages at a time. Any more than that, and we begin to see within them far too much of the things that define our awful movement and our terrifying moment.

[weeb-writings]

alisa teaching lev incorrect russian phrases

a certain groupchat im in with so many beautiful people has brought this idea to my attention. most definitely something i canon abt the two siblings now, i totally see it. 

special thanks to: @sarido275​ for this idea!! i love this so much and i hope this meets your expectations- 

warnings: swearing, a fight btwn siblings, also this is relatively long for a hc so brace yourself

genre: crack, fluff, angst? if you squint-

synopsis: lev’s (gorgeoues, beautiful, pretty, amazing, cute) sister, alisa, teaches lev russian phrases... except its all backwards...  

i used a couple websites: a b 

a/n: im writing a longer oneshot (haechan x reader) so this is something ive been working on, on the side. i hope you like whatever the frick frack this is-  

if you have any requests, shoot them in my dms or ask box! if you have any constructive criticism, let me know what i can fix and how! thank you uwu

*breathes* okay, this is straight up crack, like 

i literally see this happening btwn the two siblings, where lev’s sister alisa ends up teaching lev russian phrases with the incorrect translations 

she’s such a sweetie pie i dont see her intentionally teaching lev the incorrect translations for stuff- so yes,

with the power of google and tumblr i present to you: lev walking around like an idiot :) (i love him v much tho and hes baby all the way) 

okay lets start with the “basics” 

first off is хуй (pronounced: hooy), and it means dick 

omg i what am i writing 

okay so like, yaku probably does something nice for alisa (meaning he puts lev in check bc lev is stoopid)

and alisa decides to thank him like “you have such a big hooy yaku~~” 

and everyone on nekomas vbc team looks at the two siblings like ????? what did she just say 

and lev looks at her and she goes “hooy means heart!!” 

omfg not only lev, but all of nekoma is using this word now and its so bad bc they all say it so confidently whose gonna tell them- 

and like, whenever someone does anything remotely nice lev will tell them that they “have such a big hooy” and that they are so kind and that he appreciates them 

which ultimately, this term rubs off on karasuno and fukorodani (specifically hinata and bokuto) 

quite literally a term that spreads like wildfire and they all use it so mindlessly eye- 

okay, next term: Трахни тебя (pronounced: poshyol ty), and it means: fuck you (omg i hate writing swears bc lev is involved and he is BABY I CANNOT-) 

okay but alisa and lev are most likely parting ways early in the morning, and he is going to a summer week camp for vb practice (w the boys ayyy) omg i hate myself so much 

but like, she probably wants to say something along the lines of “i love you” but she ends up saying fuck you (dw, i checked and its the aggresive kind, no not the kinky aggresive just straight up like a screw you) pls i hate that im making this more awkward by the second 

okay but like, hes probably leaving in the morning and shes like “poshyol ty” and he kind turns back, confused look on his face 

and hes like “whats that mean????” and shes like, with a bright smile, “it means I LOVE YOU” and he repeats it a few times

and this poor bby uses this ALL the mcfreaking time now

yaku is abt to kick him? “pls stop poshyol ty” 

kuroo wants to give him shit for sucking at blocking? “im sorry but dont forget poshyol ty” 

omg KENMA WHEN HES MAD “kenma im so sorry youre the best pls poshyol ty” 

so it probably circulates around the team, and by now all of the nekoma vbc are using this on one another ALL the time

again, its something picked up by other teams 

i.e: bokuto to akaashi, hinata to kags, and it even reaches oikawa, who uses it on iwa, satori to ushijima (bye these r ships) 

but finally, poor alisa thought that by saying Отыебис от меныа (pronounced: otyebis ot menya) she was saying “your presence is nice” but in reality she was saying “get the fuck away from me” 

omg pls this is so terrible someone tell her-

but like anyways, when she says it so him, its when hes upset bc the whole team is upset at him bc he almost made the team lose

aka putting them at risk for his shitty blocking skills

and hes like “no one likes me, no one wants to be around me” 

and alisa is like: “hey, otyebis ot menya, and if its from me, they even appreciate you too :)”

and he asks her to explain the meaning to him and shes like “it means i appreciate your presence” 

and so he cheers up, and goes to practice the next day

and he apologises to everyone and then goes, “as much as i suck otyebis ot menya” 

like ????? and everyone appreciates it!! like >.< omg i hate this 

but in general, another phrase that spreads like wildfire!! 

at this point, everyone thinks hes a sweetheart (and dumbass) whos using loving terms with his team and friends!!

now, onto the “swear words” 

which, in reality, are words/phrases with positive meanings :( 

ah i really hope someone tells everyone wassup w these terms

but, lets start w this beautiful term: Я верю в тебя (pronounced: ya veryu v tebya)

this means: i believe in you (and reader, i believe in you, you can do anything you put your mind as long as it doesnt harm you or anyone)

but anyways, this is probably a term that slips out during a fight btwn the two siblings

is it weird that i cant imagine them fighting often, or at all- 

okay anyways, back to the hc

theyre probably fighting about how lev left his dirty laundry in the br after the shower, or how he left his dishes on the dining table and how he isnt necessarily cleaning up after himself

and shes tired of it, so she starts yelling at him

and shes like “oh my god! youre so useless! veryu v tebya” 

and he kinda stops saying anything back and stares at her c o n f u s e d

and shes like ?? whatre you looking so lost for

and hes like, what does that mean

and shes like, it means that you arent capable of anything. 

so this poor boy thinks that the term “i believe in you” now means “you arent capable of anything” 

when kenma, kuroo, and yaku treat him a little meaner on a bad day, he’ll be sure to mumble it under his breathe

when he blocks hinata’s spike, hes sure to yell it out proudly, and everyone kinda is like ???? 

and so he explains what it means, and 

hinata isnt phased by the fact that lev just called him incapable bc poor bby got to learn another russian phrase 

and then kenma puts two and two together and realizes what levs been calling him

*insert a mad kenma* 

*insert a mad kuroo*

*insert a mad yaku* 

okay but srsly the whole nekoma vbc starts using this term to clown lev when he messes up!!

in reality, everyones the clown bc theyre using the wrong term altogether

another term lev would learn from alisa, would be Мой милый ангел (pronounced: moy miliy angel) 

and what alisa thinks it means is : you are not an angel/youre a fallen angel/youre the devil 

bc like some languages dont have a term for something, so they use another term and then the word not in front of it, so alisa assumes thats what it is 

so she just assumes this word is something to call someone a devil or basically imply theyre a bad person 

this term slips out from alisa, when someone says a comment about lev during a game, 

ooooo lets say the nekoma vs. nohebi game to make it to nationals 

and someone says something along the lines of lev being a terrible blocker

from across the court

and out of nowhere 

alisa is like “hes better than you! moy miliy angel” 

poor bby thought she was defending her brother

okay she was but still- 

you know what i mean 

but anyways, everyone looks at her 

and she just shrugs it off bc she doesnt owe anyone an explanation

but after the game, yaku’s younger sister brings it up in front of them

and she explains to everyone that it means a devil 

and theyre all like ?? 

alisa saying something mean- this is new

but in her defense it was bc she was standing up for her brother

as she should- 

but on a real note, lev adopts this term to roast people during plays and makes them confused hehehe their faces r funny bc they get so lost and bam nekoma scores

a term that kageyama adopts

he expands his vocab when hes mad at hinata from boke, to boke and moy miliy angel 

tanaka probably uses this term on people who piss him off

imagine him saying it w his buddha face LMAO

but lastly, a term that lev would learn from alisa is Радость моя

this term is pronounced as radost moya

it means “my joy” 

so, when alisa is stressing over something (maybe hw, maybe over the fact that lev keeps making a fool of himself in front of yakus sister) 

she’s like muttering under her breath, 

“this is gonna be the death of me, ugh why is this radost moya“ 

like LMAO she thinks this term means terrible, or my bad luck

no sweetie its the opposite

its just so funny, lev hears her and she explains the term

so he begins to use it all the time

and i mean ALL THE TIME

when he cant block? radost moya. when someone reminds him that he isnt the ace? radost moya. 

so, when bokuto is in emo mode, lev is like radost moya, its just bl (ha if your mind went to boy-) bad luck

and bokuto is immediately out of his emo mode bc he is LEARNING a new term from his fave russian teacher uwu

but again, a term that spreads like wild fire

this is what kags calls hinata, iwa to oikawa, and semi to shirabu

overall, alisa teaching lev incorrect russian phrases, is lev teaching the whole of anyone who plays volleyball ever incorrect russian phrases

these humans look like straight up clowns 

i CaNnOt emphasize how dumb they look- 

basically just becomes a crack fest

bonus (kinda-): 

lev, kenma, kuroo, tsuki, kags, akaashi, bokuto, yams, and yaku all went to the fish market one day

they all witness kuroo, bokuto, lev and hinata do something stupid with their shared one brain cell

so, naturally, the others flame them in russian

and someone nearby is like 

“aww its so sweet you believe them,, your friendship is so cute“

queue the whole crew (ugh i hate that term but its better than squad) turning to look towards lev 

and BAM they all start asking this random person for translations on stuff

they all look so shocked and mad and sad

*insert a mad kenma*

*insert tsuki mocking everyone*

just funNy stuff hahahaha

okay imma head out bc wtf did i just write-

[nightofthewerehunty]

So I’ve forgotten how to use tumblr on my iPad and I can’t do the cut for a read more. Sorry, guys. But here’s my Peaky Blinders fanfiction on the relationship between Thomas and Ada. I’ve given the link to AO3 above so use that if you’d like to comment. Cheers!

Rot

When she’s feeling unkind towards herself, she thinks there’s a rot somewhere hidden, festering and spreading through her veins. Soon it’ll reach her heart. Or maybe that’s where it was hidden. Where it started, her black heart. Ada would know if she ever payed attention to that particular organ. Kidneys? Sure, have a look. Liver? Yes please, she needs it to drink. But her heart? Well, does it matter where the rot came from once it gets there? Ada doesn’t think so. And she feels it, burning and burning and burning away inside her chest until its all she can do not to cut out the charred organ herself. She thinks of Freddie, not out of love which may seem cruel, but out of curiosity. Would the infection have spread if he was alive? If she was a romantic, which she’s not, she’d have said that she doesn’t have a heart to infect. Buried it long ago with her husband, and then again with her morals, and then again with Grace so maybe Freddie’s death started something but it was something that would have happened even if he lived. Taken a little longer, maybe, but happened all the same. When she’s feeling kind towards herself, she gives the rot a name; she calls it Thomas.

Ada spends her life reading the moods of Thomas Michael Shelby and she’s perfected it after the war. She’s learned to hear the unspoken in his words. The threats behind his whims. It’s business, Ada. That’s what she tells herself and that’s what he says. It’s all just business. Legal. Illegal. On the books or off. It doesn’t matter. It’s just business. But that was before Grace, before the Russians. Tom’s different now and all her hard work of understanding him is thrown to fucking shit. How can she hear his unspoken words if he doesn’t fucking talk anymore? It’s all just lists now. Pieces of paper she has to burn when she’s through and it takes everything inside her not to chuck Tommy into the flames with his small written words. Did you get my list, Ada? Did you make your list, Ada? Have Arthur and John got their fucking lists, Ada? And Pol says he’s grieving, to give him time and he’ll be back. Back with the family where he belongs and Ada thinks while Polly drinks that Tom’s never belonged anywhere. At least, not after France. Not after the mud and the blood and the fucking bleak midwinter that the brothers always reference as if she doesn’t know what it means. As if it was something far removed from her. As if she wouldn’t be losing her entire fucking family if the bleak midwinter where to rear its bloodied, muddied head.

Ada knows about grief. She’s studied it her whole life. First with her mother and then with her father. Then Freddie and that took more than she cares to remember to make it out the other side. But she had Karl and that was important. Tommy has Charles and that’s good, but what Tommy needed was Grace. Ada won’t speak to love on another’s behalf, but if she was forced to, she’d say that Tommy belonged with Grace. And if she was drunk, like proper drunk and asked, she may even say it was Grace who lifted Tom out of the mud and the tunnels and the blood. Then Polly would roll her eyes while sipping her whiskey and Ada would remind her that she’d already said she didn’t want to talk about love while she fills her glass back to the top again. Back to the top, Ada thinks and swirls the contents of her glass. Tommy’s always trying to get back to the top. Top of the business. Top of the family. Top of the earth and tunnels and mud and fucking everything else he was before he was buried in France.

“What if you don’t get back?” She finds herself asking him one evening after too much wine and too many cigarettes and then a few more whiskeys to remind herself why the wine was too much.

“Back where?” He says after a pause to light his cigarette and he stares. His eyes catch the light of his flame and the gold of his whiskey, and for one moment, for one short, tiny, little fucking moment, he appears as a man. Just a man with his vices.

“I don’t know, Tommy. Wherever it is you need to get back to.”

Thomas puts out his cigarette with force; it’s his favorite thing to do when he doesn’t like the direction of a conversation. When it feels out of his control. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Thorne,” he says and his contempt rolls off his tongue into her ears. She’s not Ada tonight. She’s a stranger sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. And if she wasn’t so angry at being shut out, she might revel in the idea that she understands him again. That he’s back to speaking words and not writing them.

“What I mean is, Mr. Shelby,” she spits, “will it be worth it? All this? All you’ve done?” Ada watches the questions roll off Tommy’s face as he reaches for his cigarettes again. He slips one between his lips with an upward tilt of his mouth; it’s the sorta expression he wears when he finds things funny.

“I don’t know, Ms. Shelby.” So she’s back to being a Shelby now. Tommy always did like it when she fought back. That’s our Ada, he’d say when she’d come home with her bloody lips from her scraps by the cut. What poor soul crossed you today, he’d joke as if he didn’t know the reason for her bruises. As if they could pretend in that one childish moment that they weren’t scum. The lowest of the low. Poor and Gypsy and fatherless and motherless. Our Ada, he’d say as if they didn’t all spend every fucking second of their lives outside their home fighting because the world picked the fight first. “Is it worth it?” Tommy muses while he lights the tip of his smoke and stands. “You tell me,” he says and walks to the cabinet to pour himself another drink. “Those furs, that wine, your home in London. Is it worth it, Ada?”

“I’m not talking about me, Thomas,” she says angrily while sloshing some whiskey from her glass. She wasn’t expecting him to ease back into his gentle threats as soon as he began speaking again. But that’s her fault. Tommy’s a cornered beast. She knows that. Grief can make an animal still but it’ll never defang it.

“And what are you talking about, eh?” He asks louder than her outburst without turning away from his liquor cabinet. “You talking about business?”

“Fuck the business, Tom! For fucks sake!” She yells. “When was the last time you saw Charlie? You spend ten minutes with him every morning and night, that’s it,” Ada takes a pause to sigh and sip her drink. Tommy won’t look at her. He sinks his head down to rest by his glass. “He asks for you, Tom. And that’s so important right now, that he’s asking for you.” He raises his head to down his whiskey. She’s pissed him off; she can tell by the slam of his glass and the jerky motion of him refilling it. She’s too close to saying what Tommy won’t allow to be said. Grace may be dead, but God help you if you acknowledge it.

“And what does it matter to you? Eh?” He stalks towards her and points, his full glass held in front of him as if it were a bayonet at the end of his loaded words. “What is it you fucking want, Ada?” The hardness of his face makes her tense more than his volume. And then she understands his words and they pierce her skin like little needles all over. The words travel up her veins and through her blood. There it is, she thinks. The fucking rot. That he really believes this to be a transaction. That Ada would ever use his pain like that. “Please fucking tell me,” he continues, “so’s I can give it to you and you can get out of my FUCKING HOUSE.”

“I’m here because you asked me to watch your son while you were away, you fucking asshole!” She’s had too much whiskey to handle Tommy unhinged. She’ll just make it worse, she knows that. She should stop talking, go to bed, but she’s so angry and it’s that fucking infection. That rot spreading out through her heart. Tommy’s a curse, she thinks. “I tell you there’s a child up there asking for his father and the first thing you think is ‘what’s my angle?’ It’s love, Tommy. And children need it.”

“Don’t fucking tell me how to raise my son, Ada.” He lowers himself down with his words and she finds herself inches from Tommy’s wide-eyed rage. “I love him,” he says, “And I would do fucking anything for him so don’t fuckin’ talk to me about love.”

Now she needs to be quiet. Tom’s one of those wire-trapped rooms he talks about from France. And right now, in this exact moment, he’s handed her the wire cutters. Ada knows to stay still in these situations but the whiskey, or maybe it’s the wine, makes her clumsy.

“She’d want you to spend time with him,” she says and she can see the explosion in his eyes before he turns and throws his glass at the wall. She found the fucking grenade alright. Tripped right over it. He grabs her chin with his now free hand and Ada thinks about the days when he just wrote fucking lists. How could she be so naive as to think talking with him was better?

“She’d want a lot of things, Ada, so many fucking things. And the first thing she’d want would be to not be fuckin’ dead.” She’s aware of the pressure from Tom’s fingers but it doesn’t bother her as much as the difference between Tommy’s face and his voice. He’s so pale and still with his wet and red-rimmed eyes. He barely moves his lips while speaking and he looks hollow. Looks dead. But his voice shakes over every word, every syllable. She can feel the grief and anger settle between the centimeters that separate their faces. He’s losing to it. Or maybe he lost long ago and she never wanted to admit it. Tommy tightens his grip on her. “So don’t sit in my fuckin’ house, drinking my fuckin’ whiskey and tell me what Grace would want.” The second he spits out the words, he pushes her face back and lets go of her chin, but it takes days for Ada to forgot the feeling of his fingers digging into her jaw.

There’s so much to do in London and Ada needs to feel alive. Being surround by death her whole life, she thinks she deserves it. And todays version of life is in a pub with a man and lots and lots of gin. He’s a foreigner, an American, which is better for her since he doesn’t know what her last name means.

“Your drink, Ms. Shelby,” the barkeep says while setting her gin and tonic in front of her. He spares the American a nod and moves on.

“He didn’t ask you to pay,” notes the yet unnamed man.

“Got a tab,” Ada shrugs. “But more importantly, have you got a room?” The American returns her flirtatious smile.

“Of course,” he says,”Would you like to see it?”

The act is enjoyable enough and the American, named Frank she’d learned, is a generous lover, but once it’s done, she just wants to be home. Take a bath, have some tea, maybe read a little and then go to bed. She tells herself it’s late, and it is, but she knows that’s not why she wants to go. Poor Ada, she thinks. Wants so bad to feel alive but gets tired of it after only four hours.

“I’m here until Thursday,” says Frank. “Will I see you again?”

“Doubt it,” Ada says while fixing her stockings, “But you’re a good man. You’ll be alright.”

She turns the key to her door and steps into her home already warmed by a fire. She hadn’t done that. Cautious now and wishing she’d let Arthur give her that gun Monday, she sets her purse on the table near the door. For’s protection, he’d tried to tell her. Just in case, but ya don’t need to worry, Ada. We got men out there, he’d said, we’ll keep ya safe. Safe, she thinks now as she creeps down her hallway. She’ll never be fucking safe, not with family like hers. Not with her last name - either of them.

“Whose there?” She calls out before she gets closer to the drawing room.

“Hello to you too, Ada,” comes Tom’s reply. He stands by the fireplace, a glass of Ada’s whiskey already in his hands and a smoke hanging from his stern-set lips.

“Fucking Christ, Tommy,” she snaps while pulling off her gloves and tossing them onto the chair. “I locked the door. You said there weren’t anymore spare keys.”

“I lied,” he says, “Where’s Karl?”

“With Pol, but you already knew that seeing as how you know everything.” She hasn’t spoken to Tommy since she set off the bomb back at his place. That was almost three weeks ago.

“I know you wouldn’t take the gun from Arthur,” he says after a sip of his drink. Ada walks over to pour one for herself and snatches the offered cigarette from Tommy’s outstretched hand. “It makes me uneasy, Ada,” he continues, “You out there, unarmed.” He motions towards the outside with his drink.

“He says you’ve got men watching the house.” She stops to drink and smoke.

“We do,” he agrees and clears his throat, “But it still makes me uneasy.”

“Imagine that,” she scoffs, “Thomas fuckin’ Shelby, uneasy.” She turns from him to sit on the couch. She’s too tired for this. To decipher the meaning behind his words.

“Yeah,” he nods, “It makes me uneasy. You walking around unarmed, meeting with foreigners, going back to their hotels.” So that’s what this is, she thinks. He’s not uneasy. He’s mad. But Ada’s mad too. Fucking enraged, actually. The audacity of Tommy, thinking he can come into her home and wait up for her like she’s some fucking child who snuck out the house.

“Why don’t you just say what it is you want to say, Tommy,” she says. “Because if it wasn’t a foreigner, it be some man from London, or some poor soul from Birmingham. Or maybe it’s that I was out at pub? You think that improper now, is that it?”

“You usually stay out this late, Ada?” He asks without answering any of her questions.

“No,” she bites out. He nods and turns from the fireplace to sit in the chair across from her. He sets his drink on the table between them and leans back in his seat. So self assured. So fucking full of himself in her home at two in the fuckin’ morning. She hates him and with that hatred she feels the heat of that festering rot closing in around her heart, making its beats wild and bucking like a untamed stallion chained in her chest.

“That’s good,” he says. “Good it’s not a habit for you to be stepping out with American men named Frank until two in the morning.”

“Oh my god,” she sighs while she hangs her head low into her hands. “He’s not important, Tom. He’s here on holiday. He doesn’t know shit.”

“I know,” he says after a pause and sip. “I know a lot about Frank as it is. I know he arrived Sunday. He’s leaving Thursday. And he’s got a room down at the Richmond.” He stops to clear his throat and put out his cigarette. “He’s a banker,” he continues, “Works with Fryman’s Investors. Divorced. His ex-wife lives in Vienna with her bohemian lover. The bohemian’s a painter.” She can feel him watching her. Seeing if she’ll react to his words. She doesn’t want to look up. To see the smug expression he’s wearing. She’s so fucking tired, so fucking tired of this. And of him.

“I can do what I want, Tom,” she says, “I can see who I want, and I can fuck who I want.”

“Can you?”

She jerks her head up at his question. “Yeah, I fuckin’ can,” she says while staring into his cloudy blue eyes. If their not clear, his eyes that is, it means he’s drunker than he acts. Damn the Shelby men and their fucking alcohol tolerance. How long had he been drinking her whiskey waiting for her to get home? “So is that it, then? Are we done now? Can I go to bed like I wanted to when I got back to my fucking house?” She finishes her words with the last of the whiskey in her in glass. Tommy shifts in his seat to bring out his cigarette holder and lighter before he stands and grabs the whiskey off the mantle. He fills his glass, then Ada’s, and he sits back down while straightening out his jacket like a fucking king.

“No, we’re not done,” he says and lights up a smoke. “There’s some business.”

“I don’t give a fuck about business, Tom!” She snaps. “I want to go to bed.”

“There’s some business that you need to know about,” he continues as if she never spoke. “It’ll affect the family, and that includes you, no matter how much you fight it.” He points at her with his cigarette. “So from now, stay away from London pubs. Stay away from foreigners. And get back home before ten.”

“I’m not a child, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” He says sharply as he leans forward, “Then stop fuckin’ acting like one.”

She wants to cry. Not because what he says hurts; that doesn’t matter anymore. Ada wants to cry because she’s not allowed to have anything. Her home? That’s Tommy’s and the endless supply of spare keys he seems to have is proof enough of that. Her whiskey? Paid for by the Shelby Brothers Limited. Her time? Well, there’s a curfew in effect for that and watchdogs to enforce it. And now, her body. The last bit of herself she foolishly thought she owned. Tommy’ll decide who she can give it to, and if she’s being honest with herself, although honesty has always hurt Ada, she’s never really believed it belonged to her anyway. His grip on her heart tightens and tightens and tightens until the stallion bucking away inside her breaks under his slip lead. Tommy’s always had a way with horses and apparently that extends to the fucking metaphorical one she invented to justify the wild beats in her chest.

“It’s not fair,” she says, “It’s not right. You can’t control people like this, Tom. You just can’t.”

“Everyone else is following the same rules, Ada.” He breathes out smoke with his words. “And they don’t seem to have a problem following them.”

“Because who can say no to Thomas Shelby?” She shakes her head, and downs her whiskey, and reaches for another cigarette. She needs something in her hands or she’ll be tempted to lay them on Tommy. To make him feel every blow to her ego he’s ever dealt.

“No, because when I tell them to do something,” he says, “They know it’s for their own good. They know it’s for a good fucking reason.” He leans over to fill her glass again. From her bottle. Sitting in her chair and still ruling over every aspect of her small, little life.

“A good reason? Yeah, I bet you’re just fuckin’ full of them, Tommy.”

“Ada.”

“Fuck off, Tom!” She says loudly and drunkenly. If he keeps pushing her, she’ll let go. Just let the gin and the whiskey do the talking. God, how she wishes she would. Someone has too. Someone has to fucking stop him before he breaks everything. Before he breaks her. “I have to be up early,” She says, “I have to get Karl from Polly in the morning. Just let me go to bed, Tommy, please.” It’s the alcohol in her that lets slip the please. She’d never beg sober.

“Alright,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s alright, Ada. We’ll talk again. Soon.” She doesn’t follow him to the door. She just waits to her the click of the lock before she lets loose her tears.

II.

The restrictions are lifted soon enough when the business is resolved, but Ada can’t stop thinking about it; the chokehold she felt that night. She can’t stay here. She’ll go raving fuckin’ mad. She tries to remember herself. The woman who fell in love with Freddie Thorne. The woman who stood in no-man’s land between two of the stupidest groups of men she’d ever witnessed. Where’d she gone? Ada begins looking for her. In her lipsticks. In her perfumes. In her silk robes. Where could she be, the old Ada? She doesn’t allow herself to consider the worst; that the old Ada died. Succumbed to the infection called Thomas Shelby. She hears Karl waking in the other room and she stands from her kitchen table, silk flowing behind her as she walks through the cold hall towards her son. Sometimes, she feels afraid to love him. Karl’s all she has that’s rightfully hers. And if she acknowledges it, if she makes her claim, she knows Tommy’ll make his. He’s part of the family, Ada, she can already hear him saying it. Ada opens the door to Karl’s bedroom, and her son turns his beautiful, little face towards his mother.

“Good morning, my love,” she says softly and crosses the room to sit on his bed. She smoothes the soft hairs of his head and leans in to kiss his temple. Thomas will never have her son, she thinks with her lips pressed against Karl’s skin. She pulls back and smiles with wet eyes. “Let’s get you some breakfast, yeah?” she says while prodding the boy from his bed. Her son’s a Thorne, not a fucking Shelby, and if Tom ever tries to take Karl from her then God help him. She’ll take his fucking eyes. And it’s with that thought she realizes she knows where to look for the old Ada.

Of course, she still lets Karl see his cousins. It’d be cruel to deny the children like that. Kids are kept far away from the business anyway and that’s all the interaction Tommy gives Ada nowadays. So she gets confused when Tom stays sitting after she gives the name of the Bolshevik agitator. Then he mentions the position in Boston and while he describes it, she knows that he knows how fucking scared she is. And being the gracious man he is, he offers a different continent and a whole fucking ocean to protect her son from him. She knows it’s the closest she’ll ever get to a promise from Tom. Her son’s a Thorne, would say the ocean separating them from him. It’s also the closest she’ll get to acknowledgment from Tommy about his treatment towards her. It means he knows about the slip lead, the infection, and the fucking rot she’s tried so hard to keep hidden. Thomas fucking Shelby knows everything and still nothing matters to him.

She gets closer to Lizzie then she ever thought she would. Ada tries hard to not judge others, but Lizzie’s reputation had stood between them so long that she forgot. And it’s not until late one evening at the Shelby Brothers Limited almost four hours after close that Ada realizes she thinks of Lizzie as a friend. She watches the tall, dark haired beauty pour herself a drink and she sees the tired lines running through Lizzie’s face and the way her body struggles to keep her hand from shaking while she pours.

“You alright there, Lizzie?” Ada asks.

“Yeah,” Lizzie chuckles, “I’m alright.” Ada knows that line. Says it herself about five times a week.

“Is it Tom then?”

Lizzie chokes on her drink but Ada can tell it’s a laugh. “Is it that obvious?” Lizzie asks while wiping her mouth. “Of course it is,” she continues, “It’s fuckin’ stamped on my forehead.” She walks back over to where Ada sits and sinks into the chair next to her. “It’s my fault, really,” she says and takes the cigarette offered to her from Ada. “You know, I thought,” she pauses to light her smoke, “Working here, getting paid as secretary and not a whore. I thought it’d make me feel better. So it’s funny, really, how much worse I feel.”

Ada wants to tell Lizzie that she’s not a whore. Not anymore. But she can’t. The words get choked up in her throat and make her want to gag. Because they’re not true, are they? And Lizzie’s past might make it easier for the reformed street-walker to accept Tommy’s treatment. To take his words and actions as the paid wounds they are. And maybe that’s what Ada hates most about him. That he makes her, his sister, feel like a common fucking whore. Every bit of her up for sale.

“Well, you know Tom,” Ada says as she stands and pours herself another glass of whiskey. She holds the bottle out for Lizzie and the beauty leans forward to take it from her hands. “Everything has its price,” she says with a swig from her drink, “And God knows he’s got the money to pay for it.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Lizzie says while holding out her glass with a shake of her head. Ada clinks the glasses together and smiles.

“You’re not alone,” she says softly, “Not anymore.”

“It was simpler when he just wanted to fuck,” Lizzie muses then she looks up at Ada with a slight blush. “Sorry,” she continues, “I know he’s your brother.”

“Me? Related to Thomas Shelby?” Ada asks. “That’ll be the fuckin’ day.” She finishes the brown liquor in her glass and puts out of her smoke. Then she considers Lizzie’s words and she finds herself asking a question before she’s had time to think about asking it. “He doesn’t fuck you?”

Lizzie stops mid-sip to bring her eyes back from their distance and look to Ada. She swallows and sets her glass on the desk in front of them. “No,” she says, “Tom’s been seeking other women these days. Never the same one. Never more than once.” Ada nods as if the information fits into some sorta puzzle she didn’t know she was solving. “They all look the same though,” Lizzie continues, “And I don’t say it meanly, but they all look the fuckin’ same.”

“Like Grace?” Ada asks as she grabs another cigarette and lights it.

“No,” Lizzie says as she pours herself more whiskey. She caps the bottle and pushes it away from her. “No, Ada,” she sighs, “Not like her. None of them look like Grace.”

Ada tucks her conversation with Lizzie away into the cobwebbed corners of her mind. Then she forgets about it and it stays tucked away there for all of about three weeks until she goes to visit John and Esme. It’s a lively household. Makes makes her home feel haunted by comparison. If it’s not the children, running around and yelling at the top of their lungs, it’s Esme and John themselves screaming. And for all the yelling and noise that can be heard at their home, she knows it’s a happy one. They both have tempers, she won’t lie about that, and they both have too much pride. Ada’s been between enough fights of theirs to know that. But they love each other. And she bets Thomas didn’t see that coming when he forced them to get married. But isn’t love always Tommy’s weakness? She sits in the parlor of John’s home and listens to Esme loudly tell him that she didn’t want company tonight. That’s fine, thinks Ada. She doesn’t want to be here either. But Shelby business can’t wait, can it?

“Did you want some tea?” Esme asks with narrowed eyes as she sits herself across from Ada.

“No,” she answers as she takes off her gloves. “But I’ll have some whiskey if you’re pouring.”

“We’re always fuckin’ pourin’ round here,” Esme mutters as she grabs two glasses and a bottle off the mantle. “John’ll be down soon.”

“Okay,” Ada nods as she looks around and then she feels compelled to add, “It’s not just John, you know? Who I’m here to see.”

“Sorry for not jumpin’ for joy at seeing Tommy’s favorite lapdog,” Esme says as she takes a healthy gulp from her glass. Ada sighs and drinks her whiskey. She used to be close with Esme. She’s not really sure where the relationship went sour, but it probably has something to do with the rot. Ada’s missed a lot of things trying to fight the infection. At least the Gypsy will still drink in her presence. “So what were you doing there then?” Esme asks.

“Doing what where?” Ada says and fishes her cigarette holder out of her pocket.

“At the Ritz,” Esme continues, “My cousin says she saw you. Walkin’ arm in arm with Thomas after midnight.”

“I haven’t been to the fuckin’ Ritz,” Ada says. “Tell you cousin to get some fuckin’ glasses, yeah?”

Esme shrugs as if her earlier words didn’t mean anything. “I’m just tellin’ you,” she says, “So’s you can be more cautious in the future. Eyes out there everywhere.” Ada stops before she lights her smoke. She doesn’t understand.

“I’m not lying,” is the only thing Ada can think to say. “I wasn’t at the Ritz.” John walks into the room as she finishes her sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell, Esme,” he says as he grabs a glass from above the fireplace and walks towards the bottle on the table. “I told you it wasn’t Ada,”

“Right,” his wife agrees, “And now I asked her myself so I believe you. Both of you.” Esme stands and finishes her drink. “I trust my ‘usband to tell me whatever it is you got to say so I’ll be leavin’ now.”

“Yeah, fuck off,” John calls over his shoulder as he pours himself a whiskey. “Fuckin’ hell,’’ he mutters.

“Still in the honeymoon period, eh, John?” Ada can’t help but tease.

“Fuckin’ honeymoons,” he says while shaking his head. “You know, we haven’t taken it yet? Our fuckin’ honeymoon. And every time I ask her where she wants to go, she says she wants to go the fuckin’ pastures. Like I want a honeymoon spent in horse shit. Can stay in Small Heath for that.” He tips the contents of his glass down his throat and turns towards Ada. “So what’s he got to say then?” He slams his glass on the table and wipes his mouth. “Another fuckin’ list?” John asks as he holds out his hand.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It’s another fucking list.” Ada shifts in her seat to bring out the folded piece of paper from her pocket for John.

“Great,” he says as he snatches it from her hand. “I was startin’ to worry, you know? Hadn’t gotten one in the last eight fuckin’ hours.”

“He’s trying his best, John,” and even Ada doesn’t believe the words she says.

“Yeah, I know,” John says as he swipes at his nose. She figures their sibling bond is the only thing that stops him from pushing the lie. He pulls a cigarette out his pocket and sits in the chair Esme left empty. “I believe you,” he offers as he lights his smoke and for one moment Ada thinks John might be stupid. “That it wasn’t you at the Ritz, that is,” he continues, “Not the other fuckin’ thing.” He motions towards Tommy’s list with his words. There it is, Ada smiles to herself. You can’t bullshit John and it’s good to know that hasn’t changed. He reaches for the bottle to pour another drink and sinks back into his chair with his full glass. He looks beyond strained. More like defeated. Not that it’s unexpected given the circumstances, but John’s usually faster to bounce back from Tommy’s callousness. But it’s been going on for nearly four months now so she can’t really blame him. His vest is crumpled under his jacket and it brings out the little boy hiding in his features. Ada knows if Arthur saw him like this, he’d slap his back. Come on now, he’d say. Things to do, Johnboy, ya know how it is. But it shouldn’t be like that, should it? It’s wrong, what Tommy asks of his family. Our Johnboy, she thinks and puts out her cigarette. Boy is right; he’s got too much youth left to let Tommy beat it out of him like this.

“But she did look like you,” he says and his words spark that tucked away memory of her conversation with Lizzie. “And it’s not the first time it’s happened.” He looks to the side as he speaks and lights the almost forgotten cigarette in his hand. “I wasn’t gonna say nothin’ but Esme.” He stops and sniffs before he gulps half the whiskey in his glass. “Well, she’s little rough, I know,” he continues, “but she’s a good woman.” John stops again with a sigh. He shifts in his seat and takes a long drag from his smoke as if he needs to consider his words carefully. As if what he’s got to say is something Ada won’t want to hear and he’s need to figure out how to frame it first. God bless him, she thinks. John may be able to see through bullshit, but he sure as hell can’t hide his. “It worries her,” he says, “that’s all,” and that he ends up on those words after all his seemingly careful deliberation bothers her. How odd. How honest. How like her Johnboy. Ada doesn’t know what to say so she drinks instead.

Regardless of her current standing with Esme, Ada respects her. The woman has intuition and the backbone to defend it. Esme reminds her of Polly sometimes and she wonders if that’s how Pol might’ve been while young. Headstrong, loud, and drunk, but full of the world’s secrets. Ada sits by Polly’s desk at the Shelby Brothers Limited late one evening and watches the older woman write in shorthand, her pen moving like wildfire across the paper.

“What?” Asks Polly.

“Nothing,” Ada shrugs. Pol stops writing and looks up at her. “Really, it’s nothing, Pol,” Ada says. The older woman stares at her a moment too long before she looks back down at her paper and begins her furious writing again.

“Sure,” Polly says, “It’s always nothing, isn’t it?” Ada rolls her eyes at Polly’s words. “This whole family is full of nothing.”

“Don’t take your anger out on me, Pol,” she sighs. “Whatever he’s done now, it’s not my fault.”

“Who said anything about me being angry?” The older woman snaps as she slams down her pen. “And why should I be angry? It’s doesn’t have anything to do with me. Nothing does, nowadays.” She opens her cigarette case and pulls out a long, black smoke before tapping it on the desk. Polly lights her smoke while narrowing her eyes at the flame then flicks the smoldering match to the ashtray. “So you’ve thought about Boston?”

“Yeah,” Ada says after a pause to light her own cigarette, “I think it’ll be good.”

“It’ll be a lotta work,” says Pol, “But that might be what you need right now. God knows a bored Shelby is a curse on the world.” Ada thinks about reminding Polly that she’s a Thorne now, but the words take too much effort so she lets them stay resting under her tongue. Her Aunt has her eyes closed with her head leaned back against the top of the chair. If Ada’s going to ask what she wants to, what she came here to ask, it should be now. While Pol is resting and unawares.

“Has Esme talked with you?” Ada asks.

“Oh god, why?” Asks Polly as she sits up straight in her chair and puts out her cigarette. “It’s not the count, is it?” she continues while standing and turning towards the back room containing the safe. “I swear, the women these boys bring into our home.”

“No,” Ada says before Pol can leave the room. “It wouldn’t be about business.”

Polly stops with her back facing Ada. “Should we have a drink?” She asks while turning towards the draw hiding the always present bottle. “Feels like this is a conversation where we’ll want one.” She pours two glasses of whiskey without waiting for Ada’s reply. Then the older woman walks back to her desk and holds out the glass for her niece before sitting back down. “So what would this talk with Esme be about?” Polly asks after a sip.

“Well, if you haven’t had it yet, you can’t tell me, can you?” Says Ada.

“I thought I was asking you,” says Pol as she slips out another black cigarette to sit between between her lips and then lights it. She sits quietly with her eyes focused in the distance and Ada can see her mind running through all the possibilities. “What’d John do this time?” Polly finally asks.

“Nothing,” Ada chuckles, “At least not yet, anyway.”

“Right, so it’s not about business and it’s not about John,” Polly muses and traces her fingers over her lips. Running more scenarios, Ada thinks to herself with a smile. Then her eyes shift back to Ada’s and Pol drops her hand from her face while setting her glass down on the desk. “Is it Tom?”

Just as Ada is about to nod, she sees a figure in the corner of her eye, watching them both from the doorway; an ember at the tip of his smoke illuminates the face in the dark. “Tommy! Christ!” Ada cries.

“Oh god, is it that bad?” Polly asks while seemingly unaware that the topic of their conversation stands behind her in the doorway. As if his name somehow summoned him like devil he is. He moves silently into the room like a fucking ghost.

“Hello, Pol,” he says but his eyes stay steady on Ada. Polly gasps and puts her hand to her chest.

“Oh fuck,” she sighs and moves her hand from her chest up to her temple. “Lost about five years just now and I don’t have them to lose, I’ll have you know.”

“Have I interrupted something?” He asks as he sits in the empty chair next to Polly and across from Ada. His sister drinks from her whiskey and looks away from Tom’s eyes.

“You did,” says Polly, “but when have you ever cared?” She stamps out her smoke with her words. “So what are you doing here?” She continues. “Arthur said you wouldn’t be in until noon tomorrow.”

“Arthur doesn’t know everything, Pol,” Tommy says and Ada stands to refill her glass. “I’ll have one,” he adds and clears his throat. Ada looks up at the ceiling willing God to give her the strength she needs not to throw the bottle at Tommy’s head before she grabs another glass and fills it. She sets the bottle down harder then she means to and Tom raises his eyebrow at the sound.

“Sorry,” says Ada and hands him his drink before sitting back in her seat.

Polly shifts her eyes back and forth between the two siblings. “Right,” she says, and Ada knows her aunt’s trying to read the unspoken in the room. Well good fucking luck, Ada thinks. Lately, even she doesn’t know what Tommy’s not saying.

“Well, continue your conversation then,” he says before he takes a sip of his drink and fixes his jacket. “What does Esme need to talk with you about?”

“I don’t know,” replies Polly. Ada can feel the older woman carefully measuring out her words. “We’ve only just established it’s not about business, John, or you,” she continues.

“You’ve established that, have you?” Tom asks while staring at Ada. Her pulse quickens under his eyes and she reaches for another cigarette. “I wonder what it could be then,” he continues, “Sounded important, from the way Ada said it.”

Ada’s heart leaps an entire beat and she takes a gulp of her drink. He’d heard her. He’d heard the whole fucking thing. Does he already know? Did John tell him? It doesn’t seem like something John would share with Tommy, but maybe he didn’t have to. Tom’s smart. He could figure it out on his own. Then Ada has a thought and she feels herself grow cold as she considers it. What if he hasn’t been trying to hide it? She replays John’s words now. But she did look like you, he’d said, and it’s not the first time it’s happened. Jesus Christ. The whiskey in her stomach makes a jump for her throat but Ada catches it with a small gulp of air.

“You alright, Ada?” Tommy asks and she nods as she leans forward to light her cigarette off his offered flame. She’s thankful she didn’t have to light it herself or else the shaking of her hand would have been made clear.

“It’s just women’s talk, Tom,” Ada says while avoiding his eyes and leaning back in her chair. “It wouldn’t interest you.”

“This is an equal opportunity enterprise, as you both know,” he says. “What makes you think I’m not interested?”

“She just wants to Pol to do her gypsy witchcraft,” Ada says while pointing at Polly with her smoke and she feels her aunt watching her as she speaks. “Tell her the sex of the baby and other mystical unknowns.” Please God, catch on Aunt Pol, Ada thinks. She can’t calm the beats of her heart, not with the infection so close, so hot and burning.

“Of course she does,” Polly says firmly. “Who else would she go to? Doctors?” She laughs with her words and her laughter soothes a bit of Ada’s heart. Her Aunt Polly is such a clever woman. “Those men in white coats wouldn’t recognize a woman’s body if it wasn’t stretched out beneath them.” And even Tommy cracks a smile at Polly’s words.

“I’m here for the ledgers,” he says in answer to Polly’s question asked long ago and puts out his cigarette. Polly nods and gathers the stack together. “I want to look over them before my meeting in the morning,” he says after finishing the whiskey in his glass. He stands and accepts the books that Pol holds out for him. “You leaving, Ada?” He continues while towering over his sister. “I’ll give you ride.”

“I’ll just get a cab, Tom.”

“It’s safer,” he says, “riding with me. Come on, let’s go.” He walks towards the door and holds it open without waiting for her reply. Polly watches Ada with wide eyes as her niece stuffs her cigarettes back into her purse and stands. Her clever Aunt, Ada finds herself thinking again. Of course Polly’s worried too. How could she not be when Tom doesn’t even try to disguise it?

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (35/35)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: I have apparently written over 300,000 words of this story and its sequel (and I’m not saying I won’t write some one shots in the future if inspiration strikes), but I don’t even have the words to thank you guys right now. This story started because I was bored and needed something to do, and I’ve loved writing and learning how to craft words and stories more easily and with better quality over the past few months. You guys are the best, and I thank you for every click, kudos, comment, and reblog! I’ve seen and appreciated every single one!

But seriously. Thank you for liking this insane story. I can’t believe so many of you have stuck with it and gone through all of the highs and lows of the emotions of it with me. It’s been a pleasure ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Sequel: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @kristi555 @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera @emmas-storybook @superchocovian @in-spirational  @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @shireness-says @jonirobinson64 

“Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Emma admits, straightening out her dress and crossing her legs at her ankles while the wet grass touches her skin. “I’ve never really learned what goes into playing polo, but you’re British. Shouldn’t you know how this works?”

“First of all, my dear,” Ruby huffs while she scrolls through her phone, large white cat-eyed sunglasses perched on her nose with her hair falling down her back, “you are also British now. I don’t know if you’re ever going to remember that. But yeah, I was not at all into all of this uppity stuff until you started dating someone who was, which incidentally caused me to marry an uppity man.” “Woah, woah, woah. Are you seriously complaining about meeting Graham because of me?”

“Eh,” she laughs, leaning back onto a rolled-up towel with her hands resting behind her back, “maybe. He was being annoying this morning because he couldn’t find the right boots, and I was ready to just burn all of his boots.” Emma lets out a low whistle, one that travels in the slight breeze and down the small hill so that both Andy and Sutton turn their heads from where they’re playing to look at her. They don’t look for long, though, the ball they have far more interesting even if poor Sutton can’t keep up with the older kids. She’s trying, though. She’s going to have grass stains all over her dress, but it’s fine. She’s seventeen months old. Grass stains are the least of her worries.

She doesn’t really have worries as long as someone is entertaining her, and honestly, Sutton is attached at her hip. All she has to do is talk about everything she’s doing, and her girl is as happy as can be. It’s only annoying when she’s brushing her teeth.

“So he was really annoying?”

“The most annoying. I would say sometimes I miss living in my old flat with Granny, but, you know, Graham has a few more perks than her. And he’s not always so obnoxious over his riding boots.”

“Killian has this thing with shoes,” she begins, picking at her nails before twisting her wedding band on her finger, a habit that she can never quite stop, but it’s likely because Killian likes to play with her rings when they’re sitting together. “In our closet, he has all of his lined up on this small little shelf, and then on my side I have that wall of them, you know?”

“Trust me, I know. All of the nice clothes you have are totally wasted on you.”

“I let you borrow them,” she sighs, glancing over at Ruby for a moment before looking down to make sure she can still see the kids. She should probably watch a bit of the match, but she can just fake it later. That’s what she usually does when she has no idea what’s going on. “But anyways, Killian is always fixing them. If I leave my shoes in the entryway or the bedroom, he picks them up and puts them up, and sometimes he gets so pissed over it. I can’t tell you how many arguments we get into that start off with me leaving my tennis shoes just inside the door.”

“Does he do that with the kids too?

She shrugs and looks back to Ruby before sliding her own sunglasses down over her eyes, her hair getting stuck in them for a moment. “Andy is supposed to put all of his things up, but Killian’s not about to pick a fight with a four-year-old over leaving his shoes somewhere. It’s much more fun to fight with me.”

“That’s because making up with you is more fun,” Ruby teases, reaching over and squeezing Emma’s wrist. “Our husbands are so damn weird.”

“Well, we do weird shit too, but yeah, that’s very true.”

“Mummy,” Sutton whines, running up the hill as fast as she can with crocodile tears running down her cheeks.

“Baby,” Emma sighs, getting up from the ground and walking down to Sutton, scooping her up off the ground and wiping her tears away while she scans her face for any obvious injuries. She obviously missed something when she was talking to Ruby. “What happened?”

“I fell,” she sobs, the tears still coming even if Emma is sure that she’s not hurt, that it’s still the shock and the dramatics of it all.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she soothes, letting Sutton wrap her arms around her neck and snuggle into her shoulder. “It’s okay. Do you want to come sit with Mommy and Aunt Ruby?” Sutton nods her head up and down while Emma continues to rub her back. “Andy,” she calls, and when he doesn’t turn around, she calls him again. “Andrew Killian.” That gets him to turn around, his head snapping toward and his hair whipping with it. He needs a haircut, especially if they’re going to spend so much time outside this spring and summer. He gets sweat and dirt everywhere. “Andy, why don’t you come up here and sit with Mommy and Ruby, okay?”

“But I’m playing.”

“But I asked you to come sit with me.”

“Mummy.”

Sometimes it’s cute when he thinks that he can out argue her, especially since he’s still so small, but other times she knows that they’re about to go down kicking and screaming if she lets the emotions build up. Kids are kind of like dynamite, except half the time you don’t know when the fuse is about to burn up and explode. It surprises you out of the blue and you’re the one who’s left kicking and screaming.

“Andy, please listen to me. I need to put more sunscreen on your nose so you don’t turn all red like a tomato.”

“I don’t want to be a tomato,” he screeches, running up the hill so quickly that he catches up to her as she slowly makes her way back up, Sutton like dead weight in her arms.

“Why are you so scared of tomatoes?” Ruby laughs, catching Andy when he gets up to their spot and settling him down on her lap. “I love tomatoes. They’re red like rubies, and, well, you know, my name is Ruby.”

“Tomatoes are gross,” he whines, his eyes scrunching up as he sticks out his tongue. “Daddy makes me eat them.”

“Daddy does not,” Emma laughs, settling back down on the blanket and putting Sutton on her thighs while she rummages through her bag, first pulling out a bag of fruit and handing it to Andy before she gets the lotion. “Daddy lets you eat other vegetables so you can grow bigger.”

“Like Papa and Daddy and Grandpa.”

“Or your mummy and me,” Ruby laughs, tickling Andy’s stomach while he lights up with joy, his eyes scrunching together again, this time in a much more pleasant way. God, he looks so much like Killian sometimes that it kills her. She thought Sutton was going to be her twin for a little while, but her blonde curls have definitely turned a bit more brown. Or maybe it’s a dirty blonde. It changes depending on the light. She’s got these green eyes, though, and they’re so beautiful. Andy is always saying they’re like a cat. She’s not even sure he’s ever seen a cat in person, but he knows that they have green eyes.

“Mummy isn’t as tall as Daddy.”

“He makes a good point, Rubes. It’s probably because I didn’t eat tomatoes.”

Andy groans again, tilting his head back while he pops an apple slice in his mouth.

“I want,” Sutton sighs, her lips no longer quivering as she points to Andy’s bag of fruit.

Andy digs in the bag until he finds another apple slice, handing it over to Sutton who pops half of it in her mouth before pulling it out like she’s just remembered how to chew.

“What do you tell your brother, Sutton?”

“Thank you,” Sutton whispers, the words coming out more like “tank you” and Emma’s heart flutters a little bit. Listening to kids mispronounce words is definitely one of the great wonders of the world…if you’re into things like that. If you hate kids, it’s probably not quite as cute.

“You’re welcome. I gave you a red one because you don’t like the green.”

“That’s so sweet, Andy,” she smiles reaching over and pushing his hair off of his forehead. “Now let me put this lotion on you, and then you can go back to playing with your friends, okay?”

“Okay. ‘Cause I don’t want to be a tomato.”

When the match is over, Killian and Graham come walking over to them, their gaits not quite as confident as usual even though they won (she thinks), and she chuckles to herself knowing that Killian is most definitely going to want to ice his thighs and his groin later. He gets far too into these charity matches, but that’s what happens when you’re that competitive. Besides, he may be in a bit of pain, but she’s really enjoying the way that his pants cling to his legs and sweat beads off of his forehead, a few strands falling in front of his eyes. He should get his hair cut at the same time that Andy does.

Or not. It’s kind of hot.

“Hello, love,” he greets, flashing her a smile so bright that his eyes crinkle.

“Hi, babe.”

“Oh, Emma darling,” he laughs, leaning down and briefly brushing his lips over hers, “I was talking to my little love, but I’m excited to see you too.”

“Daddy,” Sutton squeals, reaching her arms up until Killian picks her up. “Play horse?”

“I did, sweetheart. I played on a rather large horse. Have you been playing with your mummy and Ruby?”

She nods her head up and down, running her fingers over Killian’s face. “I fell.”

“Oh no,” Killian gasps, overexaggerating his sounds as he settles down next to her on the blanket. He smells a little bit like a horse, and she’s surprised that Sutton hasn’t pointed it out. She’s a spirited little thing even with her limited vocabulary. “Did you get a scratch? Does Daddy need to kiss it all better. You know, Mummy says that Daddy’s kisses are like magic?”

“Totally not something you should be sharing with your daughter there, mate,” Graham laughs as Emma can feel her cheeks flush, red forming that has nothing to do with the little bit of sun she’s gotten today despite the lotion she’s reapplied. She can’t turn into a tomato or anything.

“That is not what I meant,” Killian scoffs, his eyes darting toward Graham before she sees him focus back on Sutton. “I was simply trying to make sure my little love is okay. You okay, Button?”

“Yep,” she sighs, scrambling up to kiss Killian’s cheek. She used to not be too much of a fan of her dad, which was such a shame because he’s a good person to be a fan of, but she’s definitely turning around and being affectionate toward him. Killian’s so gentle with her and always calling her ridiculous names like Button, so that likely helps. You’ve just got to know what Sutton likes to get in her favor. “Mummy fix.”

“Well, she’s very good at making things better. I’m telling you, little love, she has magic kisses.”

“Daddy,” Andy screams, shocking everyone out of their little bubble as he runs back up the hill, determination set in his features, “your face looks like a tomato!”

-/-

-/-

“This suit scratches, Daddy.”

“It’s just for a little while, lad.”

“But why?”

“Because this is what we do on Christmas Eve. Grandpa has been doing it for a long time, and we all do what he says.”

“But I don’t like this suit. I want to wear my Rudolph pajamas. He has a nose that lights up.”

“After dinner,” Killian sighs, buttoning up Andy’s shirt and tucking it in pants even as Andy squirms. “After we eat, I promise Mummy and I are going to come up here and change into our jammies and read you and Sutton a book.”

“Two books.”

“One book.”

“Two. One I pick out, and one for Sutton.”

“Maybe,” Killian laughs, reaching over and grabbing Andy’s suit jacket off of the chair. “Arms up.” Andy’s arms fly up, and Killian slides the jacket over them until he’s fully dressed. “See, lad, you look handsome, and I’m wearing something similar to you. Alex is going to be dressed like this too.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“And I present to you,” Emma shouts from the bathroom so that Killian can turn his head to look, “Miss Sutton James all dressed up in her very pretty red dress that she helped to pick out.”

Sutton and Emma walk out of the bathroom, Sutton running in first with her hair pulled back into a short braid, a silver bow resting on the top of her head, and Emma follows behind her in his personal favorite emerald dress that she’s worn several times in the past few years. He’ll never quite get over the way it dips down to show her cleavage, and even if they’re spending the night with their families, he’s absolutely thrilled with the fact that she’s wearing it tonight.

He can always simply enjoy the view.

“Wow,” Andy mutters, smiling up at Emma. “Mummy, you are beautiful.”

He smiles a bit to himself at his son and his manners that he sometimes likes to let out. Plus, he’s definitely right, especially as Emma’s cheeks flush and her lips stretch into a soft smile. “Thank you, my handsome little man. What about Sutton? Don’t you think she’s beautiful?”

“Sure.”

He almost chokes on his own saliva as he tries to hold in his laugh, Andy’s manners going away to be replaced by indifference at his little sister. There’s only so much they can hope for when it comes to him. Last week at the Christmas party they always host for military families, Andy told everyone there that his parents were cuddling with no clothes and the room went silent for a moment before Liam lost his mind and barked out a laugh so loud that everyone else joined in, the mood lightening and the jolliness coming back. He’s still not sure why Andy said that, especially since he has not walked in on them when they’re in their bedroom, but the kid still somehow knows that.

It was mostly likely Ruby. And if it wasn’t, he’d bet that Andy saw it on a movie Mary Margaret was watching when she and David babysit. Man does he hope that Andy did not walk in on his grandparents cuddling without clothes. That would be scarring. It’s scarring to think about, and they’re not even his parents. That would be so much worse.

Sometimes he wonders if he really is thirty-six or if he’s actually still about sixteen.

“Sutton, darling,” he smiles, wiping away the few stray tears that escaped him, “you look so pretty. I like your dress.”

“Thank you,” she sighs while she does a little twirl so that the skirt of her dress flares up. “It’s red.”

“It is indeed,” he agrees before walking over to Emma and kissing the skin of her shoulder so as not to mess up her makeup before they take pictures downstairs. “You are one hot mum,” he whispers into her ear, his hands resting on her hips and tugging her closer even if he can’t kiss her right now, “and I like your dress so much more than Button’s.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Emma chuckles as she runs her hands over her shoulders, nails digging through his shirt. “I also think you look much better than Andy in your suit.” “If he hears you say that, he’ll rip it off and run around the dining room without anything on.”

“It’s a good thing they’re too busy turning around in circles to pay any attention to you flirting with me.” Emma pulls back and adjusts his shirt collar, her eyes slanted in concentration until she fixes it to her satisfaction and pats his chest. “I like when you flirt with me even though it’ll get you absolutely nowhere tonight.”

“All these years, and you still think I only flirt with you to get you to sleep with me.” “No, sometimes you flirt with me because you’ve done something that you know is going to piss me off, and you’re trying to butter me up.”

“Like bread.”

Emma tilts her head to the side, her lips ticking up even though he can tell she’s trying not to smile as she looks at him. “Did you just compare me to bread?”

“In a roundabout way.”

“You literally said the words ‘like bread.’ You compared me to bread.”

“Well, bread is a wonderful thing,” he promises, flashing her his brightest smile while he squeezes her waist. God, he loves her a ridiculous amount, and he’d like to flirt with her forever, even if he can do better than comparing her to bread. In a roundabout way, though. “It was not at all an insult.”

“I know.”

“Mummy,” Andy whines, and the both of them turn their heads to look at their children who have stopped turning in circles and are laid out on the floor spread out like starfish, “if I don’t have some cake right now, I’m going to die.”

“Woah boy,” Emma laughs, moving away from him even with his grip on her hips as she walks over to them and picks Sutton up from the floor, placing her on her hip while she tries to get Andy to stand too, “you are being dramatic. If you eat all of your dinner, you can eat one of the biscuits we made for Santa.”

“Will Santa still come if I eat them?” he cries, standing from the ground and wrapping his arms around Emma’s leg as much as he can and shaking his head back and forth.

The biscuit thing was definitely not the thing to say, especially because they’ve convinced their entire family to open presents on Christmas Day for the kids, so everyone has been hyping up Santa and all of the legends and myths of Christmas’s great imaginary friend as well as all of the traditions of the holiday. Abigail went on and on about the biscuits when they were baking them after the football match this afternoon, and he imagines that it’s that which caused the meltdown that’s about to occur.

“Santa is still going to come if you eat a biscuit. I promise. You have both been very good kids all year.” “What about when Sutton broke the lamp?”

“That was an accident, and it’s not nice to talk about things Sutton’s done wrong.” “Sorry.” “It’s okay,” Emma promises, balancing Andy’s conversation while he hears Sutton babble in her ears, the sentences far less structured but still likely important. “Now let’s go take some pictures and get some food.”

“Because it’s Christmas,” Andy yells, running out of the room with his sister trailing right behind him.

He and Emma are never going to catch up, but that’s okay with him as he twines together their fingers and slowly walks with her out the door, laughter on both of their lips and lightness in their chests.

-/-

-/-

Clothes litter the floor, reds and blue, maybe a few green polos too. Andy’s going to his first day of kindergarten…or reception. She’s pretty sure it’s called reception, but she’s always called it kindergarten. Some things simply aren’t going to change. The point is that Andy is going to school that’s more than just a few days a week or a few hours a day, and she is not at all emotionally prepared for it. She’s completely torn apart his room and his closet even though they make him clean it up with their help at least once a week, and she can’t find something for him to wear. She thought she wanted him to wear these khaki pants and a white shirt, but she decided that was far too boring and that his baby blue shorts and a little checked shirt would work better.

But then again, there’s also green.

She’s very possibly losing her mind, but if she keeps focusing on the clothes, she won’t cry.

Being pregnant and sending her firstborn off to kindergarten is most definitely not a good combination. It most likely might be the worst combination, but it’s not like she can just not send Andy off to school. That would be a horrible thing to do, and Killian would definitely take him without her if she tried.

He needs to go to school. Andy loves his nursery classes and all of his friends, and he’s so dang excited about it that it makes her feel bad that she’s so upset about him leaving. Plus education or whatever. He needs that, and she’ll get over it. She has to get over it.

What the hell is he going to wear?

Why isn’t there a uniform?

Actually, no. She would have hated having to wear a uniform, and that just does not seem like a good idea for Andy right now. He would probably rip off the jacket or something. And she knows that Sutton would once she gets there.

Nope. Not going to think about that. That’s far too much for her.

But Killian looked so damn adorable in his school uniforms as a child, and she’s sure that Andy would look like an exact replica.

She kind of wants that.

“The blue will bring out his eyes,” Killian says softly, walking into the room and picking up some of the clothes on the floor and folding them up. She’s not sure if it’s because he’s being sweet or if he simply can’t deal with her mess. “That’s what you always tell me, and it’s true for him too. So why don’t we dress him in this?” he asks, holding out the exact outfit she’d picked out…well, one of them. She picked out a lot. “He’ll wear this, and then you can stop worrying about it.”

“Killian – ”

“Okay, okay, so I know you’re not going to stop worrying, but you can stop worrying about this and move on to worrying if he and Oliver are going to get up to no good tomorrow.” “Oh God,” she laughs, walking over to Killian and wrapping her arms around his waist while he does the same, his hands moving up and down the length of her back in a motion that is always soothing, “they so are. I can’t believe they’re in the same class.” “I can. Those two would riot if they weren’t.” She feels his lips against her forehead and her heart flutters for a moment while she nuzzles herself into his chest. He’s always so solid for her, and she can’t thank him enough for it. “I can feel your bump, my love.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah. I’m still so thankful for our little surprise baby, even if the thought of being in charge of three people makes me nervous. I’ll probably go gray soon because of it.” “You’ll be a good gray, though. Salt and pepper. Distinguished, handsome, debonair.” She kisses just below the base of his neck over the hair that’s peeking out over his shirt, and she wonders if he would let her work her lips against his collarbone despite her parents being outside. “Also, this baby is most definitely the last one. We have two who got here on accident and one who made our lives a living hell trying to conceive her. And after that too. I don’t want to deal all of that again. Plus, you know, labor sucks.” “I do know that, having been through it myself.” “Hush.” “You’re the one who said it. three is a nice number, by the way. I like it.” “You better.” She can feel him tracing indistinguishable patterns on her back while she focuses on the sound and feel of his heartbeat, the very real confirmation that he’s here and with her every step of the way. “I can’t believe our baby is going to school tomorrow.”

“Me either.”

“When in the world did we allow him to grow up?”

“Well, on September twenty-third – ”

“Shut up. I remember his birth. I did most of the work there.”

“Aye, you did. Emma, it’s going to be fine. He’s going to have a great day, and at the end of it, he’s going to come home and tell us all about how much he loved his new friends and his teacher. And then he’ll probably say something ridiculous about how he’s glad he doesn’t have to go back again. Man, that will be a harsh blow.”

She laughs against his chest, her entire body shaking at Killian’s words, and she leans back, tilting her chin up to look at Killian as he smiles down at her, his eyes very obviously scanning her face. “It’ll probably only get worse when we tell him he has to go until he’s, like, twenty-two if he goes to university.”

“Maybe we leave that part out, yeah?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” She presses up on her toes to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s, letting his scruff rub into her skin, a pleasant burn if she’s ever felt one. “Are my parents still watching the kids?”

“Yeah, they’re out by the pool. Why don’t you change into a suit and we’ll go out there?”

“I like that plan.”

She changes into an old swimsuit, one that covers a little more of her body than she usually prefers, but after a few times swimming this summer, she’s discovered that her bikinis are prone to fall off when the kids grab onto her while swimming. So those are reserved for special times and when she’s tanning a bit. It’s not particularly hot out or anything now, so she’d likely be fine walking out there in some leggings and a t-shirt.

When she slides open the kitchen door and walks out onto the stones, Indy gets up from her spot in the shade and comes to greet her, wagging her tail as Emma scratches her head. Before she can close the door, though, Indy shoots inside, and Emma shakes her head at the fact that the dog is just using her for her door opening capabilities. She can hear her kids before she can see them, the splashing and screaming obvious to anyone with ears, and as she moves along the path and through the blooming flowers, everyone comes into view.

Her mom is in the pool floating with Sutton and helping her swim even with her floaties, and Andy is leaping from float to float before sticking his head underneath the fountain that they have to replenish the water supply. Killian’s putting on lotion, slathering it down his arms and his chest, making his skin and his muscles glisten, and she has a brief thought that views like that are probably the thing that’s helped to make her pregnant three times.

It’s also probably the way he looks at her.

The way he still looks at her, like she’s been in charge of making the sun shine down on them or something. They’ve been together for nearly half of her life, and sometimes when he looks at her, she swears it’s like it’s the first time. Well, if the first time had involved affection and awe and not a tiny bit of animosity as she told him to get his wet ass out of their booth. How they got this life from that moment, she has absolutely no idea. How the greatest man she’s ever known looks at her in a way that makes her stomach still flutter, she’ll likely never know either.

There are some thoughts she’s going to keep to herself. She can share the first part, though, wolf whistling at Killian and waiting for him to wink back before she joins her dad sitting on a patio swing that’s under a bit of shade.

“Hey, sweetheart,” her dad greets, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and tugging her to him so that he can kiss her temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay today. My nausea is calming down, but the acid reflux sucks. And I’m still exhausted half the time, but it’s getting better.” “Good. I hate that you have to go through all of that to give me my precious grandbabies.”

“I mean, if I could change biology, I totally would, but since that’s not an option, I feel like I can deal with this for a little while. Besides, look at those lovable idiots.”

Andy is now on top of Killian’s shoulders, pulling at his father’s hair despite the fact that Killian has been in the pool for less than a minute, and Sutton is wrapped around his neck while Killian’s eyes practically bug out. They’re going to kill him, but he loves them. He’s a damn good dad. Probably super dad or something.

“Or I can look at you since you’re still my little girl.”

“Dad,” she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder while her cheeks flush. “I’m hormonal. I will cry, and you’ll have to clean up the snot.” “Nothing I’ve never done before.” “True. How did you…how did you deal with me going to kindergarten for the first time?”

“Eh, it wasn’t a big deal. We got you dressed and sent you off.”

“Really?”

“God, no. I cried like a baby the moment I got back in the car and drove to work after dropping your mother off. I didn’t think it was going to be that bad, but it was so much worse.”

“That is not at all reassuring.” “I know,” he chuckles, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “Just telling you the truth, Ems. But you’ll be fine. It’ll hurt for a little while, but then you see your kid in his element and suddenly you’re not so sad. You’re happy that he’s becoming his own little person.”

“Yeah?”

“Most definitely. Plus, he’s going to make you all of these awful crafts and gifts for every holiday, and you’re going to display a tissue paper flower pot next to a vase you got from the King of Spain.”

“So normal people stuff then?” “Yeah, exactly.”

“Papa,” Sutton yells as Killian wades their brood toward the edge of the pool, carefully placing her on the ground and telling her to be careful as she quickly walks over to the two of them. “Papa, I can swim.”

“I know,” David gasps, picking her up despite the fact that she’s soaking wet. “I saw you. You did so good, honey.”

She watches her dad play with his granddaughter, the joy on his face so obvious, and it makes her smile to herself as she listens to them have a spirited conversation. Her dad is one of her best friends, and he’s as good with her children as he’s always been with her.

So, really, he’s the best, and she’s thankful that he’s supported her since day one.

He’s a super dad too.

They spend most of their day outside until the kids tire themselves out and go to bed early, Andy’s outfit and backpack all laid out for him in the morning. When she wakes up, Killian’s not in bed, the sheets cool to the touch, and after she vomits (so it still happens in the mornings or after she naps), she takes a shower and starts getting ready for the day. It’s still dark outside, crickets chirping, but she can see the dark blue fading into something lighter as she blows her hair dry.

She’s got absolutely no idea what Killian’s doing up as early as he is, and when she walks downstairs dressed for the day in everything but her loafers, she finds him sitting in his office flipping through a book. A photobook.

Her sweet, sweet husband.

“How long have you been looking through his baby pictures?”

“About an hour.”

“Killian,” she murmurs, walking toward him and running her hands through his hair, pushing it back off of his head and scratching his scalp because she knows that it calms him, “let’s go get breakfast ready.”

“Just a moment, love. I’m almost finished with the book.”

She sighs but nods her head, nudging him back so that she can sit down on Killian’s lap, his arm immediately wrapping around her stomach and holding her to him as his free hand ghosts over the pictures. He’s looking at one of the three of them from Ruby’s wedding weekend. They’re on the beach, Andy dressed in those adorable little anchor swim trunks that she still has in a box somewhere, and he’s got this little gummy smile on his face and Killian holds onto his fat rolls as they sit in the sand. She remembers that weekend so well, and she remembers her weird obsession with those fat rolls.

“Killian, look at that munchkin.” “I know. That’s what I’m doing down here.”

She twists her head and presses her lips against her temple, the scent of his shampoo lingering. Sometimes he tries to hide his feelings when she’s extra emotional, but she always knows that he feels it too. Finding him looking at pictures is a prime example, and her heart swells for a moment, her stomach twisting.

“I’ll tell you what,” she mumbles into his skin, running her hand over his bicep, “why don’t we go get him ready, and then after it’s all over, you and I can come back here and go through all of these memories, okay?” He nods into her hair, nose pressed against her scalp. “I like this plan.”

“Good.” Killian starts on breakfast while she runs upstairs to get Andy ready for school, waking him up more easily than she ever has as he shoots up out of bed already blabbering about how excited he is to go to school today. He’s so excited that he insists on dressing himself only for his short to go on backwards and for Emma to have to struggle to get him to fix it because he likes the way that it looks. His hair is an entirely different story. He likes to keep it wild because that’s what his dad does, and it doesn’t matter how many times they show him that Killian sometimes styles his, Andy refuses.

He refuses until Killian does it for him. Kids are so weird.

“I’m going to school,” he announces, sliding into the kitchen and scrambling onto a stool while she holds Sutton on her hip. Sutton is still half asleep, rubbing her eyes with her hair still all over the place from her sleep. “Dad, Dad, Dad. Did you know that I’m going to school? Are these waffles? Do they have chocolate chips in them?”

“Blueberries,” Killian laughs, sliding him a plate with an already cut up waffle and a glass of water. “You cannot have sugar before your first big day at school.”

Andy shrugs before he starts scarfing the food down at lightning speed, and Killian has to slow him down while she settles down on a stool and picks off of the plate that Killian hands her for she and Sutton to share.

Sutton hums as she takes her bites, stuffing them in her mouth nearly as fast as Andy does, and while Killian goes to get ready, she has to keep the both of them from choking on their food while they talk to her and to each other. They don’t know that she’s having another kid yet, and she can only imagine how the reactions are going to be.

Or what it’s going to be like to keep three kids from choking on blueberry waffles all at once.

Elsa shows up to watch Sutton while they take Andy to school, and for the short ride over, Killian interlaces his free hand with hers as they listen to Andy talk all about what he and Oliver are going to do today only for Killian to tell him that no, he cannot climb a tree on the playground.

“Alright, bud,” Emma sighs as she gets out of the car and unbuckles Andy’s booster seat, her heart beating quickly in her chest while she tries to push back the nausea that’s coming back a bit, “are you ready to go inside?”

“I get to take my Andy backpack inside?”

“Yep,” she promises, grabbing his little red bag with his name monogrammed across it. It’s actually got Andrew Killian written on it because once Andy found out his middle name was the same as his dad’s first, he’s really liked saying his full name. “You get to carry it with you and put it in your cubby.”

“Good. It’s got my crayons in it.”

She takes his hand and holds on as they walk to the school entrance with Killian holding onto Andy’s other hand and Thomas discreetly walking behind them despite the fact that they wanted this to be as low key as possible.

“Those picture people are here,” Andy points out, glancing over to the photographers that are posed outside of the school. She didn’t want them here today, but she didn’t have any way to keep them away since they’re not on school grounds.

“Yeah, Andy, they are,” she whispers, tugging him closer to her side and ignoring all of the photographers until they’re inside the school doors where the three of them can have a moment to themselves just outside of his classroom door. “Alright, baby,” she sighs, squatting down to his level and brushing his hair back again while she looks into those baby blue eyes, “you’re going to be on your best behavior today, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’re going to listen to Mrs. Murray?”

“Mhm.”

He’s obviously anxious to go inside, his eyes glancing toward the door while he fidgets, so she pulls him into an embrace and cups the back of his head while she kisses his forehead. “I love you, Andy.”

“I love you, Mummy.”

She laughs into his hair and pulls back so Killian can give Andy a hug too.

“I love you, lad.”

“I love you too. Can I go now?”

“Yes,” Killian sighs, glancing up at her with those identical baby blue eyes, “you can go. Just don’t run.”

“We’re so getting a call about misbehavior before the day is over,” she chuckles even as she wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Yeah,” Killian sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her temple, “we definitely are. I’m kind of looking forward to it.”

-/-

-/-

Her hair smells like peppermint, which is unfamiliar and yet no less pleasant than the usual smell of vanilla or flowers from her perfume that often mixes in, and he wonders if he can convince her to take home this shampoo that she bought six days ago when she realized that she forgot to pack anything other than the kids’ bath products. He’s sure that he could, that he could get her to invest in something that makes her smell like hot chocolate and Christmas, something that makes her smell like this house with the snow falling down outside at such a pace that they’ll be buried in it sooner rather than later.

Emma twitches in her sleep, a small puff of air passing through her lips and falling on the skin of his neck, warm breath tickling along his flesh that causes bumps to rise and a chill to cover him that has nothing to do with the weather. For the briefest of moments he believes that she’s about to wake from her slumber, but then she’s burying her face further into his neck, into the thick sweater he has on, and her face disappears only for it to be replaced with her hair, silky blonde waves falling down her back, the tips ending in the middle of her waist just over where her own sweater has risen up to expose the smooth skin of the small of her back and the way that her waist dips in the slightest bit right at her hips.

It’s been awhile since they’ve had a quiet morning like this where he can trail his fingers through her hair while she sleeps, his other hand free to trace along her arm from where it’s wrapped around his waist. Usually they have Andy to get to primary school, Sutton to nursery, and Collins, well, they simply have to keep her alive and well. They’ve both made efforts not to work in the mornings so they can be there for their children as much as they can. He doesn’t often like to take too much advantage of his position in life, but he does when it comes to making decisions on their schedules. His main focuses in his life are his wife and his children, and if he can, he schedules himself to be away from them as little as possible.

Back in November he’d traveled to Canada for a week with his mother since his father wasn’t feeling like traveling to North America, and it had been one of the most difficult weeks of his life. He loved not having to deal with his kids for a little while, loved sleeping in a bed by himself, but he missed them all so damn much. And he could tell how difficult it was for Emma to not have his help. She had all kinds of help, but it’s different when it’s not someone who you work with and live with on a daily basis.

Now, though, they’re resting in a house in Switzerland, he and Emma cocooned in a bedroom on the top floor of the house that’s pretty much made up of windows that allow them to see the mountaintops and the snow falling, landing on the ground and covering it in a soft white blanket that the sun likes to glisten off of in the mornings when the it rises, covering everything in a soft yellow glow that brings him more comfort than snow usually does. He usually thinks it’s a cold, wet mess, but he’ll enjoy it from the comfort of his bed.

Andy and Sutton are downstairs sharing a room, the two of them practically bouncing off of the walls to get to be on winter holiday and to sleep in a room with bunkbeds, the both of them claiming a top bunk. Collins is resting in her bassinet in the sitting room just next door to them, and she’s been sleeping since around nine last night. Of all of their children, she’s the calmest. It’s a bit of whiplash after Sutton and the whirlwind that she consistently is, but he likes the calm of Collins and the way that unless someone makes far too loud of a noise, she quietly sits by herself and plays with her toys or babbles to he and Emma. She’s almost ready to speak. He can just feel it somewhere deep in his bones.

She’s got blonde hair, too. They thought that was going to be Sutton, but no, her hair has officially morphed into a light brown. Andy’s still got a black mop of hair, that never really changed, but he thinks he’s got another Emma on his hands from the blonde wisps that continue to grow on his Linnie’s head. She’s got his eyes, though, and while he knows Emma loves that, he is so partial to Emma’s eyes over his.

He won’t ever tell Andy and Collins that, though. He loves their eyes just the same.

“You’re thinking really loudly,” Emma mumbles into his chest before he can feel her lips against his throat, softness and warmth consuming him all at once.

“I can promise you I’m not,” he whispers, his hand continuing to play with her hair. She’s barely coherent, her words slurred, and sometimes it’s like they’re still two kids who are on a trip to Switzerland drinking far too much cheap wine and eating too much junk food without a care or responsibility in the world. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Probably,” she huffs, looping her leg over his hip and resting it on the other side of him. If he wanted to, he could shift his body the slightest bit and urge them into a slide of skin against skin, but he’s okay resting like this for a little while longer. He’s watching a snowflake melt on the window anyways. “What time is it?”

“Little after six thirty.”

She groans into his skin before flopping her entire body down with all of the grace of a swan and turning her head to the side so that he can see her profile, freckles on sun-kissed cheeks and blonde lashes resting against the freckles. Goodness, does he love her. More than anything.

“Why are you awake?”

“The sky’s awake, so I’m awake.” “Nope, no, nope. It’s far too early to be quoting children’s movies,” she huffs, tightening her grip around his stomach and pressing her head up so that he can feel her lips against his chin, the softness contrasting with the harshness of his scruff. Sometimes he wonders if that’s how he and Emma are, a contrast of light and dark, of soft curves and hard edges, but he knows that somewhere along the way they managed to morph together into a blurred mixture, the softness and light staying and the harsh darkness peeking out when it’s needed.

“Whatever shall I quote then? The opera? More mature films? And no, not the dirty ones, love. Let’s see, let’s see,” he hums, tapping his fingers against the skin of her back. “Songs? Are we thinking classical or modern? Television shows? Authors? Your mother?”

“Shut up,” she laughs, gently slapping his shoulder and nuzzling into his chest again. “It’s so pretty outside.”

“Aye, beautiful. You think our old bodies will hold up again out there today?”

“Don’t you know never to call your wife’s body old?”

“I’ve never been one for following rules.”

“True. I was thinking that since it’s our last day here that we kind of have a chill day inside, eat some food, watch some movies, and then we can take the kids out to play in the snow for a little while, maybe finally get the family photo we’ve been trying to get since the first day.” “Thomas is not a great photographer.”

“Or we’re not photogenic.”

“So I can’t call your body old, but you can say I’m not photogenic.”

“Double standards, babe. I only disagree with them when it benefits me.”

He gently slaps her ass in retaliation, enjoying the yelp that she lets out, before she unwraps herself from him and sits up next to him, tucking herself into his side. It’s such a good fit, the two of them, and he often likes to think of how she can curl herself into him without there being limbs in awkward places, just her arms around his stomach and her feet tucked into his calves searching for the warmth that she’s always lacking there.

“I think I could do for a lazy day. A holiday while on our holiday so that we can recover from everything. I took a pretty nasty fall yesterday, and I would bet my bum is bruising.”

“I’m not checking out your ass right now if that’s what you’re hinting at me to do.”

“I was being serious, but it’s nice to know where your mind goes.” “My mind is always in the gutter. It’s got a nice little home set up there.”

“Do you have a place for all of your sweaters?”

“Right next to the place where you can keep your socks when you come to visit.”

“So sweet,” he snickers, rolling his eyes and twisting his head to the side to press his lips against the corner of Emma’s until he can get her upper lip between both of his, teasingly biting down for a minute before pulling back and smattering kisses against her cheek while her fingers twist the hair on his chest, a shiver running down his spine with each curl of her fingers. “You’re always thinking of me, and I appreciate that.”

“Well, sometimes I’m not. You know, I like to think about food and the ending of Game of Thrones that I’m still not over and then sometimes about the spawn we made with our genitals.”

He sputters out a laugh, tears forming behind his eyes, and he has to tuck his face into her hair, smelling the peppermint again and reveling in it. “I love you so goddamn much.”

He feels her hand in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he swears he can feel her lips against his head even though he knows that he cannot. “I love you, baby daddy. Speaking of our genital spawn, I’m going to go get Linnie so we can cuddle with her for a bit.”

“She could be asleep.”

“Trust me. She’s not. I also know that she needs to eat. My boobs are full.”

“Don’t I know it?”

“You’re a child,” she sighs, kissing his cheek and pulling back from him as she gets out of bed, her feet pounding against the floor when she hops off the tall frame, and walks through the doorway to the sitting room.

While she’s gone, he takes the opportunity to use the restroom and grab a new pair of socks for both he and Emma, the cool ground reminding him of the chill that’s been seeping through the crevices of the home. It doesn’t take long before Emma has returned, Collins changed into a new set of pajamas with her hair combed through, and Emma settles into bed with her, pulling the blankets up over the two of them, completely ignoring the socks that he left out.

“Hello, Linnie,” he whispers, leaning forward and kissing the crown of her head while she smiles at him, her nickname always making her smile for some reason. “Did you sleep well? Mummy didn’t keep you up with her snoring?”

“No,” she answers, and his lips fall open as his stomach flips.

“Did she just speak?”

“Did you just say that I snore?”

“That is so not what’s important here, love,” he laughs, looking up at her before he takes Collins out of Emma’s arms and places her in his lap while he tries to convince her to say no again. She doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean he can’t at least try.

His last little lady just said her first word, and he’s so damn proud.

It’s not long before Andy and Sutton join them, quietly opening the door to see that he and Emma are awake before they barge in, jumping on the bed as quickly as they can, even with Sutton’s struggle to climb up on her own, her legs nowhere near as long as Andy’s. They’re all a mess, filling every second of silence with talking about what they want to eat for breakfast and what kind of snowmen they’re going to build outside or what movies to watch. Andy and Sutton get into a bit of a row about using carrots for the nose (“Noses aren’t orange, Andy.”), but eventually they calm down and he and Emma get everyone downstairs, fed, and dressed to go outside so that they can build snowmen with whatever kind of nose that they want.

“Andy, you have to stop squirming so we can get this picture.”

“Why do you need a picture of me when you can see me right now?”

“So I can see you later.”

“Where am I going to be that you can’t see me?” “Yeah, where’s Andy going to be?” Sutton cries, the tears obviously in her voice.

“Andy isn’t going anywhere,” Emma explains, looking over at Killian and rolling her eyes while the pom pom on her head moves and snow continues to fall down around them. “You guys are being silly, and the faster you stop and smile for Thomas to take our picture, the faster we can get back to playing.” “I was kind of hoping I could go to Hogwarts,” Andy huffs under his breath.

Okay, so maybe they shouldn’t have started reading Harry Potter to their seven-year-old quite yet, but he’ll figure it out eventually.

They eventually get their family photo before letting the kids scramble off into the snow, only making them come inside so that their non-carrot noses don’t turn blue. Emma’s been making them grilled cheese and hot chocolate, and his mind replays with decade old memories of her making him try one of those blasted sandwiches for the first time as she sat on a countertop not too far from here. He still hates them, but his kids like them.

And the hot chocolate isn’t too bad.

Neither is the company.

“Marshmallows look like snow,” Sutton sighs, poking her drink. “Can I eat snow?”

“If it’s not yellow.”

“Killian,” Emma gasps, twisting around with her mouth gaping open, “you have to also warn about green snow too. And purple. If you eat purple snow, phew, I think your stomach will explode.”

“What?”

“Cool.”

“Gross.”

“Where is the purple snow?” Andy questions, running his fingers over his chin in contemplation while Sutton continues to eat her marshmallows one by one and Linnie wanders around the kitchen hooked into her jumper so that they can keep track of where she wanders.

“On the other side of the mountain, I think,” Emma mutters under her breath as she walks over to him and hands him his mug of hot chocolate with a sweet smile. “Or we can get some grape juice and pour it on the snow outside.”

“If purple snow tastes like grape juice, why can’t we eat it?”

“They raise a good question, love.”

“They do, don’t they?” she hums, closing her eyes and taking sip of her chocolate, obviously to buy more time. “Well, I think it goes like this. If Mommy helps you make the colorful snow, we can eat it. If I don’t, that’s a no go.”

“Why would we even want to eat snow, Sutton?” Andy wonders, turning his head and propping his face up on his hand as he talks to his sister.

She shrugs, taking another sip of her drink and coming away with a line of chocolate on her lips. “Cause marshmallows are yummy, and I can’t reach where Mummy hides them.”

“I can,” he whispers, but it’s loud enough that both he and Emma can hear it. “I’ll get you some later.”

And that explains why Emma keeps blaming him for eating the chocolate candy she hides at the top of the kitchen cabinet. Andy is obviously pilfering it, and they’re going to have to start locking down their cabinets. Or find a new hiding place. The locks might be easier.

They never do end up making purple or any other colored snow. Instead they curl up under blankets and pillows and watch their forever favorite of Finding Nemo (“Why doesn’t my fish talk, Dad?”) despite his insistence that they try something else out. His kids love repetition, and he swears that if all of their movies lost sound, he could act out all of the scenes for all the words that he knows. He’s almost excited when new ones come out and he sees them for the first time, but then he realizes that this one is going to go into the memory banks as well.

Next time he’s in Australia he’s definitely going to P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney. Well, he doesn’t think that’s a real address, but if it were, he’d definitely buy the keychain.

One by one, they fall asleep, Collins breathing a steady rhythm against his chest far before Sutton spreads out on an armchair and Andy falls asleep with his nose pressed into the couch cushions. They can’t leave them that way, so in a continual team effort, he and Emma move them all to their resting places before finally getting to fall asleep themselves.

When they get back to England the next day, it’s a mess of carrying in suitcases and children, trying to balance unpacking with Indy dragging clothes and undergarments all over the house out of her excitement to have them home after being away from her for a week. He’s sure that sometime tomorrow he’ll find Emma’s bra resting next to the pool or one of Sutton’s bows resting atop his toothbrush. But they get it mostly done, especially after the kids all go to bed, and after he’s brushed his teeth and showered, he heads downstairs to the kitchen and finds Emma standing behind the island eating a spoonful of yogurt.

Her hair is unwashed and unruly, tendrils falling down from her bun, even more escaping the band that’s holding it up as she sways back and forth to the music in her head that only she can hear. She’s still got on her clothes from the plane ride, an unknown stain just over her right breast and, and he’s sure if he were to look in her back pocket, there’d be a packet of crushed crackers that she had for Sutton and forgot about before she sat down. She’s ridiculous and beautiful, and he loves her, stained t-shirt and all.

“Hey, handsome,” she teases, leaning over the kitchen counter as he walks further into the room, settling down on a barstool like he did so many times before in a completely different setting, one that lacked their children’s photos on the shelves and their wedding portraits on the walls. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Give me my entire life, he thinks to himself, knowing Emma would affectionately mutter something about him being cheesy if he were to say it out loud.

“No,” he says instead, reaching over and twining his fingers together with Emma’s over the countertop, his thumb tapping over her knuckles while he smiles at her simply because he can, simply because she makes him happy, “I’m good just like this.”

[newmainolddead]

no no no no no

no.

there is so much wrong with this statement.

hermoine is no ravenclaw. as a pinterest user pointed out in the comments, a key aspect of ravenclaw is being open-minded and accepting (which makes sense don't you think?).

look at luna, she is pretty much the opposite of hermione, guess where she is? ravenclaw of course. she is open-minded and accepting above being smart, look at her interacting with literally anyone, or her telling people about creatures noone believes in.

now how does hermione react to that in particular? she not only dismisses these creatures existing, she makes fun of luna for believing in them

very open-minded, much acceptance

ron, and that is a personal pet peeve as a hufflepuff that drove me to find this blog and write this post on tumblr, is not a hufflepuff.

there are so many things wrong with that, it really pisses me off, sorry

but ron is quite literally the exact opposite of everything and anything hufflepuff stands for

let's go through the traits of my favourite house and im sorry that this is so much longer than the other two but like i said, pet peeve

loyalty. ron is not loyal above all. before you get mad at me for "bashing" ron the entire time, i don't intend to, i just want to point out why he is no hufflepuff, and anyone who read book 4 try to tell me again how loyal ron is, i dare you. he leaves harry for no reason at all other than jealousy and being lowkey stupid. he is not exactly loyal at all

he's also racist (specist?) against giants and house elves and thinks wizards are the superior race and the others are mere animal-like creatures and it shows in his treatment of them. remember when he found out hagrid's a half giant and only stayed his friend and saw past it and didn't comment too much on it because of harrys innocence regarding the topic (which also shows hate is taught but we know that)? yeah... loyal... and also so nice, don't ya think?

and fair. and so, so incredibly tolerant... all important huffletraits.

also remember how hufflepuffs are the most hard-working people? have you seen ron with homework? dude, it's one and a half pages of magic, get your shit together ron

do you see how ron has no hufflepuff traits whatsoever? it's okay to not have one or two, or interpret one or two differently, but none? ron is no hufflepuff. ron is the exact opposite of a hufflepuff.

which is why i always get so mad about it.

when i see harry being called a slytherin one more time imma scream.

"but the sorting hat said so"

well guess what the sorting hat saw what we'd learn six and a half books later, harry has a piece of voldemorts soul in his body and voldemort obviously is a slytherin and belongs there, do you know who doesn't belong in slytherin? harry "what is self-preservation" potter

and before you go well maybe the houses are wrong but you still have to ask to be in gryffindor, think of neville, who asked to be in hufflepuff because he didn't dare being up to the expectation and exceeded them in the end

he is a gryffindor, don't you think? don't look past his fear to see his bravery, he is the bravest of them all being brave despite the fear, in face of his fear

and if that isn't enough, even though we all agree cursed child is not canon, its universe is, and whatshisnamepottersson specifically asked to be in gryffindor and wasn't put there

now i know this post is older than that ridiculous excuse of a play and i don't want to say your idea wasn't great, but the house placement is as wrong as your idea turned out to be for sure and i couldn't resist replying to that

rant over sorry

Here’s my theory. The Harry Potter trio are actually representations of the other houses. Hermione is Ravenclaw. Ron is Hufflepuff. Harry is Slytheryn. They’re all in Gryffindor because they asked. In fact, everyone in that house could have been in another house if they hadn’t asked to be in Gryffindor. You have be ask to be in Gryffindor because their most defining feature is bravery and anyone can choose to be brave.

[wingroad]

end of year review fic meme

under a cut bc long af 

Chronological breakdown:

·       January 

Pining/Dawn 04/01 | kagakuro | PG | drabble school reunion 05/01 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble | au now you see me au 08/01 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble | au genie au 12/01 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble | au First Frost 31/01 | kagakuro | PG-13 | 3k+ | Kagami and Kuroko don't always fight, but when they do it's like this

·       February 

Can we pretend I didn’t just say that? 08/02 | kagakuro | PG | drabble Is it? 14/02 | kagakuro | PG | drabble Once in a lifetime encounter: Chapter 1: The encounter  08/02 | kagakuro | PG | au| Ficlets inspired by NBA X KNB collab (proper summary one day maybe) Are you flirting with me?   08/02 | aomomo | PG | drabble snapshots and glimpses  22/02 | aomomo | PG-13 | 1k+| one sentence fics

·       March

Delirium 01/03 | kagakuro | PG | 2k+| Kagami doesn't get sick except when he does present 08/03 |kagakuro | PG | drabble morning 10/03 |kagakuro | PG| drabble vows 10/03 |kagakuro | PG | drabble what's mine is yours 11/03 | kagakuro | PG-13 | 9k+ | What Kuroko wants is what Taiga wants. stubble 13/03 |kagakuro | PG | drabble movie 17/03 |kagakuro | PG | drabble What Comes Next 17/03 | kagakuro | PG-13 | 2k+ |Kagami wakes up and wonders what's next. dance 18/03 |kagakuro | PG | drabble stripes 25/03 |kagakuro |PG | drabble pie 28/03 |kagakuro aomomo|PG-13 | drabble pink 31/03 |kagakuro |PG  | drabble Once in a lifetime encounter: Chapter 2: Trice's a pattern 13/03 | kagakuro | PG | au | Ficlets inspired by NBA X KNB collab (proper summary one day maybe) expecting 31/03 | aomomo | PG | drabble

·       April

eyes  03/04 | kagakuro | PG | drabble visit  06/04 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble selfie 07/04 | kagakuro | PG | drabble tie 07/04 | kagakuro | PG | drabble Hush  22/04| kagakuro | NC-17| 1k+ | The view was perfect to wake up to. not at first sight 22/04| kagakuro |PG| 1k+ | A casual conversation about something not casual just for you 25/04| kagakuro | PG | 1k+ | Kagami makes something just for Kuroko bouquet 26/04 | kagakuro | PG | drabble trials 28/04 | kagakuro | PG | drabble

·       May

Once in a lifetime encounter: Chapter 3: Pure coincidence  07/05 | kagakuro | PG | au|  Ficlets inspired by NBA X KNB collab (proper summary one day maybe) The deep blue sea  22/05 | kagakuro | PG-13 | au | ficlet Kagami-kun is terrible  24/05 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble Grabby Hands 28/05 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble

·       June

Tetsuya you little shit!  03/06 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble Taste of Summer  15/06 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble

·       July 

They grow up so fast  04/07 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble Better luck next time  |28/07 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble Short people problems  29/07 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble

·       August 

From first to last   02/08 | kagakuro | PG-13 | 6k+ | Glimpses into some important vacations Kagami and Kuroko spend over the years  Sharing is caring (sometimes)  17/08 | kagakuro | PG-13 |drabble Sight of the sun  21/08 | kagakuro | PG-13 | ficlet | au Little things  22/08 | kagakuro | PG-13 | ficlet Don’t ignore me  23/08 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble

·       September

Terrible teacher 02/09 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble Accidents happen  07/09 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble

·       October

Blind Fate 02/10 | kagakuro | PG | 4k+ | au | Kagami and Kuroko get set up for a blind date, but it doesn't go according to plan, except it does. Heartthrob 10/10 | kagakuro | PG | 3k+ | Kuroko is a real heartthrob. The sword and the stone 12/10 | kagakuro | PG | 2k+ | au | Kagami and Kuroko travel together and find themselves in a...situation. Interesting times 22/10 | kagakuro | PG-13 | 1k+ | au | Tetsuya is in an impossible position and Kagami only makes it worse by trying to make it better.

·       November

People like us 06/11 | kagakuro | M | 12k+ | slight au |There is but one rule which people have to obey. Don't fall in love with someone other than your assigned partner. Kuroko Tetsuya falls in love with someone who is not his assigned partner.

·       December

Spoons  10/12 | kagakuro | PG-13 | drabble Once a day  16/12 | kagakuro | drabble | au Green eyed monster 19/12 | aomomo | PG | ficlet Acceptance is hard 27/12 | kagakuro | PG | ficlet

Overall Thoughts:

most productive months: March, April 

least productive months: September, November 

ofc this counts the number of fics posted. I only posted one fic in Novenber which was supposed to go for the kagakuro au month but I am terrible and didn’t make it. orz 

full fics: 15

drabbles/ficlets: 40

I wanna thank @steffelchen for being a total sweetheart and drawing me wonderful fanart for my fics this past year and for leaving long and detailed comments. 

Thank you for all the people I wrote fic for <3 It means a lot to me that you liked my writing.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

Hard to say since I haven’t counted last years’ writing and forgive me but I don’t feel like doing it anyway lmao. I think I wrote a bit less. I definitely did not wrote all the fics I planned and predictably I started new wips heh and some shorter pieces gave me ideas for more longer fics/snippet fics.

 What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? 

Uh, none? I wrote 99% kagakuro and 1% was aomomo lol. I DID have a brief moment when I wanted to write for the mentalist bc I finished the series finally, but somehow…it never happened. Meh

 What’s your own favorite story of the year? 

From full/longer fics: the aomomo one sentence fics definitely.

From short drabbles: Sharing is caring

 Did you take any writing risks this year?

I guess. I wrote a bit more angst and some not really fluffy and shippy pieces, which were still concerning pairings I liked so…yeah.

 Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? Eeeh, I wanna write more in general, I wanna write my other knb ships, I wanna write more gen and maybe try writing other fandoms I am in forever. That’s all.

 From my past year of writing, what was…

My best story of this year:

You tell me lol. I have no idea.

 My most popular story of this year:

That’s kind of hard to say bc the most traction get my drabbles/ficlets bc I write them most frequent, but it’s hard to tell which of those got the most traction in 2017. Going by the amunts of notes on tumblr would be the valentine’s day ficlet Is it? which gets 49 notes. Also it’s such a random fics lol.

The second one is Hush (you pervs. But also really??? That fic? Lmao)

 Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: THE FICS I STRUGGLED WITH THE MOST:

What’s mine is yours

People Like us

 Most fun story to write:

The Aomomo one sentence fics.

 Story with the single sexiest moment: lmao. Considering I only wrote one smut…but I liked the uh ‘sex’ scene in People like us.

 Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story: n/a

 Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: n/a

 Hardest story to write:

People Like us. I…sort of lost the drive in the middle bc I started to think about the subject matter more than I should and bc it was taking soooo looong.

Also Hush because I realized as always I just can’t write porn lol

Biggest disappointment: 

What’s mine is yours. I really liked writing it, and It was kind of a big project yet it just seemed not many people cared : (

Biggest surprise: Dunno

Most unintentionally telling story: idk

Highlights + Wrap-up: Favourite Opening Lines (3):

1.       Kagami thinks he’s got this. He can keep his calm even when he’s buzzing around in his seat for the past three hours of the delay, but then he sees him and he loses it.

2.       Kagami stared at the simple bento box held out to him and then at Kuroko.

3.       After turning thirty, Daiki noticed that there were a lot more things which were pissing him off about the world, but one thing which was at the top of the list was spending ~quality~ time with Tetsu-kun and Kagamin as Satsuki still insisted on calling them.

Favourite Closing Lines (4):

1.       Whatever, he had a few months to make the best damn vanilla shake in the world.

2.       "Hey." Taiga said and brushed the last stray tears from his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Let's get a kid."

The brilliant smile was all he need as an answer.

3.       Yes, parents should get involved. He didn’t care anymore that their daughter didn’t express almost any personal interest in basketball, but hey at least she was doing something sport related, right?

Just…did it really have to be baseball?

4.       "Let's go." He said and pulled Tetsuya down under water with him, where they both explored the secrets of the deep blue sea.

Favorite 5 Line(s) from Anywhere:

1.       The only thing which was missing was a kiss." Tatsuya mused and then looked at Kagami.

"Or did you? Kiss I mean."

"No!" Kagami yelled scandalized, finally out of his daze. His face felt like it was on fire.

2.       And despite the edge of the table digging uncomfortably into his stomach it was the first kiss in a long while which made Tetsuya’s heart flutter instead of making his stomach sink.

3.       Satsuki knew that Aomine was fast, but it was still incredible how he bolted when the light changed from red to green.

4.       “Daiki.” She only ever used his full name when she thought he was exceptionally annoying or stupid. “I’m pregnant. You can’t be more girly than that.”

5.       “It seems that Kagami-kun is having improper thoughts.” Kuroko said lips nibbling on his sweet treat. “And in public.” He added as if he was disappointed but it was obvious he was making fun of him.

[docholligay]

I'm gonna be honest I had to come to your blog for some reassurance that "feel bad for all femmes that are into butches" thing wasn't actually hatred because I've seen so much vitriol thrown at butches over the last couple years that my kneejerk reaction is to assume even something playful like that is hate. I'm glad it wasn't, but ugh I wish my brain hadn't been conditioned to assume that of people.

I think the couple of nasty comments I got actually come out of a couple things, and I’m glad you said this, because I think it’s something, we, as a people, need to talk about

(When I use ‘you’ in the context of this talk I mean ‘all y’all’ not you specifically) 

1. The point you made–People are so used to butch lesbians being attacked that there’s a knee-jerk desire to protec and attac. I UNDERSTAND THIS INTIMATELY, TRUST. 

2. You’re not gonna like this one–the second factor is a pretty uncharitable lack of reading comprehension. Not just in my post, i see this all the time, but I’ve read my post several times now, because I do in fact have a very aggressive communication style, and sometimes I come off TOTALLY wrong. But I think it’s tough to read what I said and take it as anything other than poking fun at how oblivious butches are about flirting, and how we as femmes end up hilariously tossing ourselves at them. 

3. Tumblr’s really really terrible pattern and impulse of seeing a post, looking at the reblogs and comments for something that pisses them off, and popping off about it devoid of any context. One person, that I had never seen in my life, reblogged it, directly from me, with the addition “Feel sorry for yourself, ugly” (which, hilariously, actually that was what I was doing, yes, I do, rest assured I have been this femme writing notes about coogne and hope you get the message) (It was deleted quickly because I assume they flipped over to my blog and figured out they made a mistake) Oh of raw curiosity, I went to my blog and searched ‘butch’ for the posts that come up not involving this. First was a huge fanfic, where you would have seen it used positively BUT NO ONE BLAMES ANYONE FOR NOT GOING THERE, but the next two were these: 

my (butch) friend E: I drank Hershey’s syrup out of the bottle as a kid. me: I drank soy sauce.my buddy D: there it is folks, the butch- femme dynamic.

Reasons my butch is crying:

today in the Buffalo Bill museum she felt sad that the buffalo no longer freely roam the Plains

Literally a 2 minute search could have told you this was probably being interpreted in an uncharitable way, but we don’t do that on tumblr, we shoot first and ask questions later, and that’s how stuff gets blown up to ridiculous proportions. Maybe don’t flybynight on blogs of people you don’t know and assume the worst of them. It does not take a lot of time to search key terms (my blog even has dates when you search! So you can see that maybe what I thought 3 years ago isn’t what I think now!) 

I really want all of my followers to read this, and think about this next time you want to pop off. 

It is important to be thoughtful in our criticisms, because these things are important, and popping off and crying wolf makes them look silly. 

Thoughtful literally just means sit and think about it. Check your facts. Stop reblogging stuff blindly. Please, for the love of God, Harumichi, chicken strips, whatever you need to swear to, stop and think to yourself: 

Am I reading what they really said? Is there another way to read this?

What does the rest of their blog indicate about this? Does this maybe ask a personal context I don’t have? 

Is this actually a big deal that requires a stranger’s intervention? –picking your battles is literally one of the hardest things to learn to do.

If I am unwilling to put my name to a criticism, do I truly believe it’s worth defending? Do I have the courage of my convictions? 

If a news story/scholarly thing: Let me google this really fast) PLEASE DO THIS BEFORE YOU REBLOG SHIT EVEN WITHOUT COMMENTARY OH MY GOD. (If I see that anime was a mistake thing passed around again, when he never fucking said that, I am…gonna lose it)  

I think you’ll find in general your experiences on tumblr are more positive and less anxiety prone if you just take on a little bit of this responsibility. For example me: I have a major major major major issue with people removing Tracer’s CA for art. It sucks. It’s disability erasure because her CA interferes with outfits or some dumb reason. When i see it, I go to a person’s blog, i check art tags, i try to figure out as much as I can before I speak to them about it ALWAYS UNDER MY ACTUAL NAME. 

It’s been largely positive! Not always, but often! (Actually its mostly the wide scale rebloggers/content ~curators~ who are really really terrible about this no matter how many times I message them and if it didn’t violate my own personal understanding of lashon hara I would absolutely at them and post about it ahah)

Anyway, you don’t have to agree with me, but I think it’s valuable to sit and think about these things, before you act. Sometimes I just take a walk! I’m impulsive as fuck and I need to not have access to answer for a few minutes. 

IN conclusion: I love butch lesbians, I think tumblr really needs to work on open communication 

[bubbakanoosh]

rant ramble

I haven’t rambled in a while, mostly because I turned off the “anon” feature on my tumblr.   People don’t want to send me a note and call me an asshole anymore now they can’t hide their identities from the world.  Anywho, I don’t even know where to start with this, I just have so much shit on my mind, I don’t know where to begin.   I have had the shittiest few weeks and I am walking that fine line of losing my shit on someone.   I am stuck on a fucking train once more, and I swear to fuck there is a women clipping her nails on this train.   HER FUCKING NAILS!!  I already told her to stop, because no one else has to balls to do it.   I asked her if she was homeless, because that could be the only possible reason she is clipping her nails on the fucking train.   My stupid rental car wouldn’t start this morning.   Yeah, I am driving a rental….I got rear ended on Easter weekend, so yeah Jesus and I have something in common: our easters kinda sucked.  But yeah, I got rear ended by this Mad Max looking motherfucker truck.   Fun time.   And because it was the holiday, my insurance and the renal car agency had a failure in communication, by that I mean my insurance company never told them I was coming.   So after a few hours of playing it cool I finally got a rental while my car is getting fixed.   A fucking honda civic, like fuck me.  As I told a few others I feel like a white teenage girl driving this piece of shit, I can’t even.  But I am waiting to get my car fixed, and for whatever reason the part is on back order so I am stuck driving this piece of shit for who knows how long.   Civic Nation is a horrible place, and I hate it here and yeah. I am sore.  I am working on my basement, turning it into a finished display of awesomeness and I am doing this all by myself.   I am pretty handy, I like you to know.   I am not just a pretty-ish face, I know what the fuck I am doing.   And between that and the accident, I am sore which makes me, well, more “charming” than usual. Oh, when I say “charming” I mean “smartass”. For the record, little miss nail salon is still clipping her nails.  I swear to god, if she takes off her socks and shoes and starts clipping her toenails I will go ballistic   No question, I will go ballistic on her and possibly beat her with her own shoe..

So, my threshold for stupidity is at an all time low… I can’t really deal with it.  And when I say stupidity i mean people, family, work, drama, people, the fucking works.  Speaking of work, it has been stupidly busy.  Like really really really busy.  I have been dealing with lawyers all week, and you know what? Lawyers are assholes.  Some of you may laugh at the irony of that statement, but seriously they are.   I wonder what those fellows are saying about my chaming self.   Also speaking of work, I had this more fucktarded conversation yesterday.  So we have an in-house courier to take shit around to other offices and whatnot so we don’t have to pay for a service.   I had a cheque that needed delivered and I called the courier guy to my office to pick it up and take it a few blocks away.   I said to the guy “better watch it, it’s pretty torrential out there” and he looks at me with a blank stare then said “what?”.  I replied with “it’s storming out there, we are haveing torrential rain outside”, whch he comes back at me with “Oooh, gotcha… I just never heard torrential used in that way before”.   Its at that point in time I do a double face palm and rub my face letting out a long ass sigh.  Maybe I have lived with my head up my ass for most of my life, but I want to know what other use of “torrential” he has heard.   Torrential level cheese on my nachos, please? Fuck, can you imagine? I could use that right now.

Anyways,  usually I hide it pretty well most days, my prickish nature/anger for stupidity, but as you see I am having a little trouble with it. Or maybe I am not, I dunno.  I have been called sweet, or a sweetie, once or twice in my life… and you know what? I am.  I’m so sweet like a nice bon bon.   But I am also a fucking prick. I am quite the sarcastic bastard.   I guess is its the Hyde to the sweetie Jekyll, maybe it;s a gemini thing… I dunno.  I hide it on here for the most part, I think there are times it slips through.   Do you know how many posts a day I like and write a comment on to reblog but instead of hitting sent I just cancel?  A lot. Why do I delete them? Well, I fear I may get some stupid PM or whatever wishing cancer on me (yeah, that happened).   I think people take this shit way to seriously, and fine do that.   But you need to chill the fuck out at the same time, you know? And while we are on the stuff that annoys me on tumblr, inspirational quotes bug me.   There I said it, and please don’t get offended because I don’t like them..  Don’t get me wrong, there are some I like, they aren’t all fucking poppycock or anything, but yeah… they bug me.   Maybe it’s because I think people post them to get likes rather than actually believe what the quote is saying. We all post shit for the likes, so don’t tell me you don’t It’s like on facebook, someone makes a post bout thee most lovingest spouse and how they are lucky they are to have him or her.   You know they are just typing that shit either a) convince others they are the happinest couple in the world or b) convince themself they are that happy.   When I was with my ex, back when we actually spoke hahah fuck, anyways, back when we actually spoke I asked her if we are weird because we say Happy BDay and Valentines to each other face to face and not facebook to facebook.   I honestly started to think maybe I am the odd one, then I deleted facebook and all was right in the world once more.   Those posts on facebook, I dunno, they didn’t feel genuine.   And that’s the vibe I get from some of the shit people post,  It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I am like ugh.   And then I write comment or something and stare at it and then cancel.   Maybe there are posts out there that I just don’t cancel? Maybe there are posts out there where I really am an asshole and the anons were right? I think some of you take your blog way too seriously, and yeah.  I dunno, maybe I am the weird one, maybe I don’t take my blog seriously enough? Maybe my “How I Tumblr” jokes are spot on? As in, I have no clue what i’m doing. Things that make you go hmmmm.  Oh, while we are talking about the inspirational stuff, if you see one that is a quote from “anonymous” well, that’s me.   I said all of those.   I am not one to seek fame and glory, because I don’t need it, but I need to bring it up.  Why? Well, some of you are throwing around my wisdom all willy nilly and shit.   

So the other day someone was ranting to me about tumblr and I was like YES!! Okay, that is a lie, there were two separate people ranting to me about tumblr and I was like YES!! EXACTLY!!  And I brought up my scenario about something and what pissed me off.   Then I explain what pissed me off more, and that was the fact I noticed the thing that pissed me off in the first place..   I hated myself for noticing this little, I dunno what to call it, quirk? This little quirk that I see.  Noticing the quirk pissed me off more than the quirk itself.   In fact, the fact I was pissed off at the quirk pisses me off now.  It’s stupid and I hate myself for hating it so much..   I am not going to get into what the quirk is but I noticed the same thing on twitter when I was on there and it just got stupid and I quit that.   By the way, everything that happens here with cliques and crushes and Doms and subs, that’s all on twitter.  I think cliques and shit like that is worse over there.   They have theme days over on twitter, where someone will come up with a start of a joke like, I dunno let;s just use “yo momma”.  So one person will send a message, or a group of people will send a message and say at 7pm EST you will start using the “yo mama” joke format and tweet shit.   Me being me I was like “yeah no” and shit just went down hill from there.   I got blackballed for not being a fucking lemming.  My twitter was HungoverLawyer.  Oh, you may have seen me reblogging a tumblr called HungoverLawyer, that’s me in case you haven’t figured it out.   Follow it, you can be one of the 10 who are, it’s an elite club.   I actually have another blog I created but I never ever used yet called Bubba-Answers-Stuff.   Basically that blog I answer others peoples questions they get asked them.   One day I was browsing my feed and I saw someone answer an anon and, well, I personally felt I could answer it better.   That answer was mediocre at best, imo.   But, it was around the time I got the cancer remarks in my inbox so I just put it on the backburner.  Maybe I will start it up, why not right? Anyways, I quit twitter over the stupidity that was over there.   The stupidity outweighed the fun.  Tumblr is pretty fucking dumb, but not nearly as dumb as twitter was. I am not going to quit tumblr, not that any of you are worried or anything, if you are well… that is pretty sweet actually.  If you are not worried, well, that’s okay… I will just cross you off my Christmas card list, so fuck you.  I kid, I kid.  You are still on the list, fuck.   I am an asshole with a heart of gold.  Did I mention I am really sweet? So, yeah, I ain’t leaving tumblr.   You’re kinda stuck with me, at least for the time being. I just dislike when a distraction is no longer a fun distraction. I don’t know why shit bugs me but it does. Maybe it is me taking this way too seriously. Maybe I’m the fucking problem? Holy shit. I just had a fucking ephiphany, wow.  I am not bitching about you, I am bitching about myself? whoa, fuck.  Nah, am fine.  You are all good.  Cept the fucktard who used to send me rude anons, you can choke on a bag of dicks.    Maybe I just need a stiff drink.   I have pizza waiting for me when I get home, and a couch.   Seriously, I am going to get undressed and eat pizza on my couch in my underwear.    Soak that in, ladies.   I know, my nipples are hard at the thought also. Anywho, I am at my station.

[scarlethaki-archived]

[ I’m writing this to explain my side of the story since I’ve been painted as some heartless witch that can’t stand people making ooc/silly posts or even like I’m trying to turn people against others.  The only reason I’m making this post is because I’ve been vagueposted about and blocked on my other account, so my follow-up message to reach out and discuss things had never been responded to. I honestly don’t give a shit about the blocked part. What has made me the most frustrated is that they are ignoring the main point of this issue that has now ended up involving one of my friends too. We are NOT upset about the ooc posts or how you run your blog, it’s how you’ve gone and painted us as villains and you as the innocent victim in all of this. This is not to say that we are the victims in this situation either, because I for one prefer not to act like one.

Here is a screen cap of the message I sent. The hate-filled attack that started this all:

“Hey! I just wanted to pop in and tell you beforehand that the reason I unfollowed you on this blog and on scarlethaki is because I was uncomfortable with the amount of ooc posts that ended up taking over my dashboard. I just want to reassure you that it’s nothing against you as a person, and I’m still okay with interactions if you want to. :)”

That was the message I sent. Please tell me if that was uncivil in any way. Everyone has their preferences, and when your blog is 90% ooc that floods my dashboard, that’s my personal choice to draw the line there. I don’t mind ooc or crack posts at all-- I do them a lot too, but it was the amount in even just a single hour, and this in undeniable to anyone who knows this blog. You can post as much ooc as you want, but some people just don’t want their roleplay dash to be flooded with ooc conversations, shitposting, and pictures of girls in bikini and underwear. It’s even stated in the rules pages of all my accounts-- I may unfollow if the amount of unrelated ooc exceeds my preferences. Perhaps it would have been more tolerable to me if an ooc tag was used, but this person did not use that either (at the time).

They have every right to post as much ooc content they want, and I have every right to unfollow them if it gets too much for me. The only reason I messaged them first is because I didn’t want them to find out I unfollowed them later on their own and feel even worse/more awkward about it.

These were some of the responses on that person’s blog.

#DO U EVER LIKE GET ONE OF THOSE DAYS WHEN THINGS JUST SEEM TO GO WRONG EVERYWHERE SOMEHOW #... #IDK MAN #ITS LIKE EVERY SMOL THING OF BAD THAT HAPPENS YOU GET LIKE #.... #OKAY THEN FUCK IT #TBD. #JUST #PLS GET THIS THING ON YOUR HEAD GUYS IF PEEPS DONT WANT YOU THEN ITS THEIR LOSS #TBH #TBH DONT SET UP UR EXPECTATIONS TOO HIGH #ALSO DO KNOW THAT IF YOU HAVE THAT HOUR WHER EYOU'RE LIKE HAVING FUN OOC AND REBLOG/POST TOO MUCH SHITPOST I WILL NOT UNFOLLOW YOU FOR THAT. #I DO THOSE SMTMS BUT AS YOU CAN PROBS SEE WHILE SCROLLING I DELETE IT LATER ON #LIKE... #OKAY THEN. #NO ITS FINE RLLY #IM JUST. #AT LEAST TELL ME BEFORE I SEND IN THINGS TO YOUR ASKBOX BCS SOMEHOW THAT S HUMILIATING? #I MEAN. #OKAY THEN. JUST. #IM NOT NORMALLY THIS MEAN BUT WHEN I FEEL LIKE DIS I HONESTL DONT LOOK BACK AND CONSIDER BLOCKING PEEPS BCS #IM ALREADY INSECURE AND HAVE LOTS OF TRUST ISSUES FROM MY BULLYING YEARS AND NARC ABUSE EXERCISED IN MY TOXIC HOUSEHOLD #I DONT THINK I NEED MORE SHIT TBH. #I KNOW PROBS IM OVERREACTING AND THAT IF YOU APOLOGIZE FOR IT AND ALL SHOULD BE FINE BUT. #..... #HONESTLY. #ITS NOT. #EXCUSE ME IF ITS TOO MUCH OOC FOR YOU THEN. #BUT TBH EVERYONE HAS THOSE TIMES WHERE CRACK IS IN THE BLOG OR SHITPOST ENSUES #BUT DID YOU EVEN SEE THE TAGS SAYING TBD - TO BE DELETED?

#BUT TBH.... YOU MIGHT NOTE THAT EVEN IF THERE ARE CANNON CHARAS BLOGS AROUND ...I WILL NOT FOLLOW THEM ALL #THE REASON IS NOT ALWAYS THE WRITING OR PORTRAYAL BUT WHAT JUST HAPPENED #LIKE I RECEIVED HATE BEFORE FOR JUST SAYING SOMETHING A SHIPPER DID NOT LIKE #I DID NOT LIKE CROSS BOUNDARIES OR HATE ON THEM AOR ANYTHING IMERELY SAID THAT THERE WAS THIS TROPE THAT WAS LIKE BEING OVERUSED OR SMTH #AND YEAH #BUT YEAH THIS IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS WHY I DO MAINS CALLS BCS OF THESE SITUATIONS. #TBD.

H**** pls *raises hands* (anditsokayimajudokaicankickpeoplesassesnowrries!!) its fine rlly. thats their loss tbh. its just that it was a bit humiliating bcs the person sent me a mssg about how they werent folowing me anymore bcs of the ooc posts and i had just sent in a ic ask too - posts which later on get deleted anyways tho i do keep the content in a private paste or smth saved in case there’s something i need from it like the post about inviting u guys to gow tih me next year but—\ rlly i dont want drama !! they did apologize it just does still hurt bcs u know i just had sent in a interaction ic, but….its fine . it wont do any good causing chaos over this rlly. ^^’

yeah i totally share the opinion! which is why i think that this is a hobby and we’re humans not machines so ofc we’ll have those times where shitpost just happens and like when u guys this week calmed me down bcs i was having a nervous breakdown due to the late events …like this is our safe space so. but tbh im just not to have drama bcs i already have so much shit to deal on my dramatic life tbh ya feel? i dont want  like to be the one starting some kind of chaos here in the fandom bcs i totally know i will not get along with everyone thats scientifically impossible. i can tell u in private who it is if u want to know anyways but do promise me that you wont go to their inbox or anything for my sake. i honestly dont want to start drama or cause things.

Those were ALL in reaction to that single message I sent. As admittedly pissed off as I was, I decided to let it go. Strangely enough, despite the fact that I said I ran scarlethaki, this user has continued to follow me on here even though I unfollowed weeks ago. They also still follow my other blogs which I’ve mentioned I’ve run before, so I really don’t know what the thinking is here. But I didn’t block you and I never will, because I’m leaving the option of coming to me to discuss things open to you. I’ve tried approaching you once and that clearly didn’t work so the ball’s in your court now. Shutting your ears to someone never fixes a problem, it just gives you a sense of blissful ignorance to the real situation at hand.

The thing that frustrated me to no end was the amount of hypocrisy and victim-playing going on.

I sent you a private, friendly message. Instead of responding, you blocked me and then go off on your blog. Your messages were very clearly directed at me. So why couldn’t you just speak to me face to face? Is it because you wanted the sympathy of the public?

You say you don’t want drama... and yet you make several ranty posts to the public to see? How will this not incite drama? “I don’t want drama.” “It won’t do good causing chaos over this.” Are you not seeing what you’re doing? 

“I won’t get along with everyone” Please tell me WHERE in my original post I was ever hateful to you or said I didn’t like you. You’re making things up in your head.

“I can tell you in private who it is if u want to know anyways but do promise me that you wont go to their inbox or anything for me sake. I honestly don’t want to start drama or cause things.” So the people that are being slandered have to just sit quietly while you go off about them, even when you say that you’ll tell anyone that asks you about it? You may not have actually told anyone in private, but at this point I’ll be distrustful of everything you say due to the victim-playing and manipulation of the public going on here.

I won’t add too much about this next part since @jurakyuru​ has already defended their personal case, but since it’s tied into the original issue involving me, I will summarize it because I’m at my wits end.

This user had sent my friend a message asking them why they unfollowed and if it was a tumblr glitch. Funny enough, this is the exact situation I had wanted to avoid putting her in when I sent her that first message. I didn’t want her to feel awkward or embarrassed asking about such a thing and she blocked me for it, yet just a couple weeks later she does it-- and gets very upset when my friend civilly states why they unfollowed. So you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t I guess.

There was a very very long response written to my friend which is not in my right to share, but I can at least comment on the public posts that had been made. Foolishly I did not screencap the actual things in the heat of my frustration, but I had copy and pasted them into a conversation with a friend.

Let me tell you one thing: I never told anyone to unfollow you, nor tell them what to say to you. My friend showed me the message they sent to you and they themselves made it clear they unfollowed of their own accord. But keep going on thinking I’m telling people to unfollow you.

Also funny how you say the door’s open and to get out, but when we did that you got severely upset.

We did unfollow you. You went into rants.

You’ve been reasonable? Really? As soon as either of us said something not sugarcoated you blocked us.

I would go through your blog, but you deleted everything. I mean, I had copy and pasted pretty much everything, but if I hadn’t then your claim of evidence would have been meaningless.

No you didn’t send us harmful message directly, but you went on public rants and even offered to tell people our names if they just asked you.

I won’t go on about this for much longer. You said you wanted people to see both sides of the story and here they are: my message vs. your reactions. A quote I’ve always stood by is, “You’re not responsible for people’s reaction to you, just the words you say.” This is why I still feel no guilt for the message I sent you. I know what I said was reasonable and civil. I am not responsible or at fault for the way you decided to react to it. 

And now we’re here.

As I said before, I haven’t blocked you and I won’t. Despite everything, I still don’t hate you as a person. I am just very frustrated and disappointed at the reaction over the past two weeks, and now I’m a little bit worried as well because I don’t know who you spread your lies to or when. I did not want things to come to this because callout posts are generally looked down upon, but this is the best way for me to lay everything clear. All the screencaps and what both sides have done. I never conspired against you-- in fact I was still kind to you on my Whitebeard blog until I unfollowed you there as well after yesterday’s shitstorm.

In the end I really don’t think you’re a bad person. I don’t think you’re evil or a villain, but I do think how you have been behaving has been hurtful and irresponsible. I’m sorry to be posting this publicly, but I need to make sure that if you said anything about me in private, the truth is clear. ]

[goingbackthroughthelookingglass]

12:00PM - Dose Day

Well. I have to say I’m convinced.

Last night was hard. Not in all of the ways that make things obvious, but rather in the subtle ways that you don’t even know you’re doing/are habits until you’re suddenly without them.

So the microdosing schedule I am on consists of a dose day, an after effects day (the day after), and then a “normal” day, followed by another dose day (today actually). I just took 0.2g of mushrooms (via capsule). This is double what I took Sunday. But before we get into that (and while I wait for my stomach to digest the vegetarian capsules) let me tell you about my night last night.

So last night into today is my “normal” day. This is the day, typically, as you’re finding the right amount for your microdosing, that things should feel normal. The problem was, I wasn’t entirely certain if what I did take was really still affecting me. I woke up, got ready for work, and was productive until 1:30am (when I normally get off the road because of drunks and assholes driving and you just never really know who you’re picking up at that time). My night started out pretty normal; I did hit the snooze a bit, but I got out, deep cleaned my car, and got on the road. Most of the rides were good, and I was able to chit chat easily...but as the night wore on I just found myself...irritated.

Not the last ride before my break, but a few before that I picked up this couple. It was just a couple blocks from my house, and I’m sitting there waiting, and this guy, we’ll call him Jake because I honestly don’t remember his name, comes out and is just like “let me set my drink down.” No big, sure whatever. He walks to the other side of my car, there’s some kind of wait, and then he opens up the passenger door behind me, and is like “I’m just gonna say goodbye really quick” closes the door, and walks back around my car to this dark corner that he came from, that I can’t really see. At this point, I’m feeling irritated and that my time is getting wasted. He finally gets back over, sits behind me, and I put my car into drive to drive off. Suddenly, I get this pounding on the back right door, and this chick is like hitting my car so I stop, and she opens the door and is like “I’m going.”

OK. Whatever. The ride is just to Dirty (a sleezy dance club) that’s maybe 5 minutes away, get in so I can drop you guys off and forget you ever existed. Except I can’t. Because they were horrible. The first 2 minutes was them bickering over this guy named Jason, and who he was to her. (Drama) She then asks if she can smoke in my car, and I say no, so she’s like “Rude.” They then are fighting because she originally wasn’t going to come, but now she is, and he’s pissed for some reason (side-slice maybe??) and honestly they’re disrespectful AF and rude as all shit to each other.

She then makes fun of him for being 30. Fam. I literally thought I was picking up 19 year olds for the way these two fuckers were acting. Needless to say, I drop them off, and 1-star them so I don’t ever have to pick them up again.

NEXT RIDE: I pick up this couple from Scandals (a gay bar). We’ll call the guy Seth, he’s the one that ordered the ride. The two get in my car, and something just reads trans about the woman (tall, deeper voice, but gorgeous af, the guy was meh) so I’m just thinking “aww, cute queer couple.” She wants something to eat before going to Holiday Inn (where I just assume they’re staying). But like...there’s something off about Seth. IDK what it is. But my spider senses are tingling. There happens to be a Jack in the Box across the street from the hotel, but of course I have to go through the drive through because it’s that late. I NEVER do drive through rides. Fucking order UberEats. But I was feeling generous, and the woman and I were chatty so sure, whatever. But on the way there, this guy is like...making these really off color jokes. And not in a good way? Like one of them I’m trying to remember the words, but can’t, but basically it’s him joking that he does it bareback (without a condom). STILL assuming this is just some sweet queer couple, we wait forever in the drive thru line, and he’s still making these jokes...like...it’s when you have that friend that tries to copy your mutual funny friend...but doesn’t quite LAND the joke? So it just feels awkward and a little creepy? He says something about “you better order from the dollar menu” and she’s just like “whatever” and orders what she wants, but makes a comment about how her shoes are $600 and if he doesn’t want to pay for a burrito... That is when I realize she is a sex worker, and they’re going to the hotel...well, I don’t have to finish that sentence. But let me tell you...I FEEL SO BAD FOR HER FUCKING THAT SLEEZE!!! So long as she’s a free agent and sex work is what she wants to do, more power to her, but DAMN. After being in that car with that guy for 10 minutes I NEEDED A SHOWER. Barf.

I gave one more ride before taking my break (uneventful) but like the whole time I’m just...annoyed and irritated. And I have no reason for it. I have snacks, I had a good nap, I’m making bank...but I just can’t shake my mood. I come home, and decide to make some soup and have some rustic bread with it...and then I make the MISTAKE. I convince myself I can just close my eyes for like an hour before being back on the road. WRONG. SO WRONG. Big mistake. Big. I wake up at 6 when I was supposed to be back on the road at 4. And the WHOLE TIME I felt weighted and negative and just exhausted (despite sleeping another 5 hours) and heavy. I didn’t want to do anything, was not motivated, and even procrastinated making this post, even though the last couple days I’ve really enjoyed journaling. My anhedonia was beginning to creep back in.

My morning finished with a phone screening appointment for a therapist that I forgot I had, while I had a woman I had just picked up in the back of my car (her car got a flat) because I couldn’t reschedule. I NEVER take calls when I’m on the road. But...at least the woman found out her driver was not contemplating suicide? Though I’m sure she left with questions about who my abusive ex was, and what family issues I might have (since I mentioned both in the call). OH WELL.

So...rolling back around to the first paragraph in this long post. It made me realize what I was feeling leading up to, and then after my nap is my current “normal.” The easy, breezy covergirl feeling I was having these last two days was the mushrooms. The exhaustion, the lack of motivation, the heaviness in my body...that had been gone for the last couple days allowing me to be more me than I have been in a long time. I was no longer smiling. I didn’t want to talk to people. I just wanted to lie down and do nothing, while the days previously I was writing campaign stuff, cleaning, going about daily tasks as if it cost me no spoons. (if you don’t know about spoon theory, you can find it here)

So, now we’re at 12:24pm. The first dose kicked in about 45 minutes to an hour after taking it. I’ve now doubled my dose from 0.1g to 0.2g. I’m taking the rest of the day off to sit and ponder, but I DO need to go get my breaks done this afternoon.

About the pondering: IDK what you believe or don’t but I do somewhat subscribe into the theory of the Law of Attraction. (That link is to the “documentary” about The Secret.) BUT, I don’t believe that that law is something “mystical” (even though I am, myself, a mystic). Rather, I believe that when you approach things with intention, the outcome is more profound/clear/pronounced because you went in with a goal in mind already. For example: you “attract” more successful people in your life to coach you to become successful not because you thought about it and made it “manifest,” but because you thought about it and looked for the tells of the type of success you wanted to achieve and because that was in the forefront of you mind, you kept your eyes open for those things and recognized when they were in your path. It’s easy to find a bean when you’re looking for a bean.

A lot of the articles and such that I read on microdosing before slowly wading into that pool talked about intent. You can take drugs to feel better, but what really have you learned or what habits have you changed to change your life if you’re not using this opportunity to reflect? The idea behind microdosing is not to take drugs. It’s to use a small amount of a substance that has been known for centuries to heal parts of your brain that’s currently misfiring. I remember what my life was like before I had depression. For a couple days I had glimpses of that back. Microdosing isn’t forever; in fact, most say you should only do it for a month at a time, and many have not had to repeat the dosing, but have shaken their depression (or at least to something highly managable) with only one session (about a month, taking a microdose every 4th day).

So, today while I try this 0.2g (which seems about average for a microdose (they can go between 0.1g - 0.5g) I think that’s what I am going to think on. I know that I want my motivation and creativity back. But what does that look like?

It’s now 12:40PM. I thiiiiiink something is happening, because I’m noticing subtle shifts in light. Nothing crazy, but the blue of my Tumblr dash just looks more...blue-y. More saturated.

If you got this far...I’ll keep you updated. 

[loveinruins]

How can I let go?

It’s currently 1:40am on Sunday, today is fathers day.

I’m sitting here thinking about how much I miss him. At the same time I’m at a crossroads because I know that I’m a dickhead and I need to let him go. 

Why am I wasting time thinking about someone who’s not thinking about me? If he really wanted me he would do something about it.

Earlier this week I was writing an entry Wednesday night and my fucking tumblr app shutdown on me so I lost everything in that entry, I was hoping it would’ve been saved into drafts but it didn’t. Because of this now I have try and think about what happened from then and of course because I’m a fucking goldfish I can barely remember shit.

So this past week I realised that I’m not over him at all, like I feel like I kept telling myself I was over him so I would get over it but I haven’t. I’ve been n major denial thats for sure.

This whole week he finished at 4:30 and waited to go home with me except for Thursday because he had plans. I didn’t ask what plans he had because if he said he was seeing a girl which I assumed he did because that day at lunch he looked really cute with this blue ralph shirt on. Anyway so on Wednesday I drove and we had some banter but for once we didn’t have dinner after work, I ended up just dropping him off to his car. I’m trying to remember what happened..

Oh ok some of it has come back to me, we were talking about the weekend, we briefly spoke about MT, he was pissing me off like majorly and I was trying not to give him the satisfaction of pissing me off so to make him feel bad I went really quiet because I know how much that pisses him off. 

I think he realised and he goes are you gonna say something orrr? I then just gave him really blunt answers and then he goes you wouldn’t even have given me a chance if I wasn’t like this. I just laughed and he goes you love me annoying you like this. I go no I don’t. He goes I know you, you do, you love the attention. I go yeah likewise and he goes I never said I wanted it from you. I go is that right? lol ok.

Anyway he ripped into me pretty badly and then I think he felt a bit bad because he tried grabbng my leg jokingly throughout our car ride. When we were near dandy B had msged me asking if I wanted to do dinner and I was like yeah sweet and sent her my location and I said out loud why didn’t she just check my locations on snap, he goes what?! I go yeah I have my snap location on just for her she needs to know where I am and he goes you guys are like next level close, I go well yeah we come as a pair, maybe you’re just not that close to your friends and he goes I am but you guys are next level. He then goes to mimick me “omg me and rib we come as a pair” as he does this he grabs my hand and holds it.

I was very confused by this I’m not gonna lie. I’m like why are you always trying to touch me for? ffs.

On Thursday when he told me that he had plans he goes am I still taking you home on Friday? I’m like yep, we can have dins if you want? He goes yeah sweet. When I saw him at lunch he also made a few comments and was like don’t miss me too much today, I’m like relaxxxx I’ll manage and he goes well without me who else are you going to vent to? I was like I have plenty of other friends and he goes oh yeah well we can make this a regular thing you going home by yourself and I go yeah no worries and he goes I’ll remember that.

So Friday comes I didn’t see him all day and I wasn’t sure if he was even in because I deleted him off skype and I didn’t want to check either because I didn’t want to make him the focus of my day. I only realised he was at work when one of my customers called into service and got the girl next to him so he called me letting me know she was going to transfer the call to me. Anyway I went to sit at my usual lunch spot on the couches and he never came, I realised this afterwards because GM and I were having a chat and since him and GM don’t really get along, he just walked past and didn’t sit down.

At 5pm I walked over to his team area and he was still doing work which is really unusual because he never really stays back. I noticed he wasn’t in the best of moods. When we were walking to the car I was like what’s wrong? He goes shit day, shit mood. I was like oh ok then..

I wanted to cheer him up a bit so I told him a bit of work goss. He asked me what I wanted to eat and I was like you know the usual, he goes chapel? I’m like yeah. We ended up at basilico, food was pretty good. We had saganaki, garlic bread and some salads. Not sure how we got onto the topic but we spoke about our first time having sex, I told him I met my first at a club which was a lie but I did tell him he was 28. He now knows about the young one I hooked up with, the lips story, that DB and I slept together and that I’m no longer seeing him. He goes is that why you’ve been so up and down this month? I’m like no, that’s just personal stuff. He’s like are you sure you’re alright? I’m like yeah I’m fine, I’m good. He’s like wow stories huh T and I go yeah just a couple for you to cheer you up. He goes I should be sad more often. I’m like lol can you not, these are stories that stay between us only ok?

When we left dinner I ended up confessing to him that I think I am spiralling into depression again because I’ve been extremely anxious everyday and constantly feeling anxious as soon as I wake up, he was like I don’t want you to feel alone because you’re not. I’m like I know. He kept asking if I knew what it was or why I was feeling like this and ofcourse I said I don’t know but really I think it’s because of him.

I think about how he doesn’t want me like that but still wants me to be around. I realised tonight that I’m too available. I need to set my distance with him so he can miss me and appreciate me.

The car ride home was really interesting because it started to get a bit personal and sexual. He asked me if being wet and being on your period was the same feeling? I was like umm no it’s different. Then he asked if I had ever had sex on my period and because I didn’t react straight away he goes ohhhh your silence is enough, I laughed I go yeah well I have but it didn’t go in my vagina. He was like shook and laughed because obviously he didn’t think I’d ever tell him that. The topic of me getting called lips came up, I’m like hey, I can’t help that I’m talented, he just laughed. We spoke about how we’re both pretty vanilla and not into anything too freaky but I mean a bit of spanking never hurt anyone.

So yeah he dropped me off home and that was it really. I mean knowing how much he overthinks and analyzes everything he probably thought about everything I said and I wonder what he thinks of me now.

I mean I’m usually very private about these things but I was like let me just give him a bit of cheese and keep him happy but still wondering what else I’ve done.

I saw MH tonight and she just gave me really good advice basically just saying do whatever you want until you feel like you can’t handle it anymore because it’s like when you’re with him you’re on such a high but then we’re you’re apart you’re low.

He’s like an addiction, I keep going back for more and what I realised was that unless I’m gone, he’s not going to miss or appreciate me. I’m not giving him the chance to.

So starting from Monday, I’m going to try and create some distance.

Try is the keyword here.

It’s now 2:50am and I have to get to bed because I’ve gotta be up in a few hours to go to the gym.

[turnabouttoothbrush]

The Seduction of Dr. Hal Emmerich

SURPRISE NI🅱️🅱️AS IT’S MORE METAL GEAR

So just to make things clear-

This fic isn’t actually that bad. No, seriously. It’s another one of those fics that is, as a whole, actually pretty good, and mostly ends up on here because there are a fe~w miiiiinor things that nudge it away from ‘I read this to enjoy it’ to ‘I read this to laugh at it’. In this particular fic’s case, it’s because of general awkwardness and a count that you’ll be seeing in a bit.

Also, y’all already knew that I’m an Otaliquid shipper and oh yeah I’ve actually written the pairing before. This author and I have something in common with this pairing in that this fic isn’t(!) a rapefic.

I know! Consensual Otaliquid! It’s a miracle!

Anyway, let’s get started.

Since the takeover of Shadow Moses Island, Dr. Hal Emmerich had been in a state of shock. Constantly guarded, there was little he could do, but pray and keep working like he was told to. The only light in this dark was Sniper Wolf. She was a vision of beauty, strong and confident. Her visits were the only thing keeping him from falling apart, but they were becoming fewer as time passed.

Canon straight pairings are always a good way to start a slashfic!

He was brought food and allowed to wash and rest, but it was little comfort. He would find himself wondering if one of the guards would come in at any moment and just take him out with a blast of gunfire. That was a fear he could not shake off. They were violent people, but it was worse because there was a bigger agenda going on. One that would be catastrophic if these people were successful. Hal's eyes went blurry on the computer screen and he sighed, taking his glasses off to clean the lenses on his shirt.

Thereby only making them dirtier.

I wish I could wear contacts lol

He stood to get some coffee, feeling like a zombie as he slid them back on his face. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. The strain was taking it's toll, but he was trying to stay as strong as he possibly could, situation being as it was. He poured a cup and brought it to his lips, blowing soft before he took a sip. He grimaced at the bitter taste, but drank more anyway. He needed to stay awake, and he never knew when they would come in to take him to a room to sleep.

Boy it sure would suck if they let him go to bed right after he just drank like nine cups of coffee so he just lies there totally wired all night instead of sleeping

He took the handkerchief from his pocket and looked at it with soft eyes. He put the silken cloth to his nose, smelling her scent.

It was a token from Sniper Wolf, but he was smart enough to know she didn't have feelings for him. Smart as he was, he still had his fantasy. He closed his eyes, brushing the soft cloth against his stubble rough cheek. If only they had met in a different circumstance.

Probably still wouldn’t have worked out. You guys have no idea how hard I’m resisting the temptation to post more Hiimdaisy caps.

“What about me?” “What about you?”

Hal heard the familiar hiss of the lab door opening and he jerked, stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket hastily. He kept his back turned and went back to drinking the coffee, gulping it down. The guard said nothing, but he heard the boots thumping across the floor toward him. It wasn't her, the footfalls were much too heavy.

*insert joke about a woman’s weight here*

"How are we doing, Dr. Emmerich?" the voice asked smoothly behind him. Hal dropped his cup when he recognized the voice as that of Liquid Snake. Coffee splashed the counter and broken pieces of the cup slid and fell to the floor. The reaction was probably over the top, but he had not gotten a visit from the man since the takeover. Maybe he was of no more use and was going to be killed after all. "I'm..a... "Clumsy," Liquid said and chuckled soft.

Oh yeah, there’s also this strangely recurring issue of adverbs not having -ly at the end of them. It throws me off every time.

"I suppose." He grabbed up the paper towel and started to quickly sop up the mess, trying his best to keep his hands from shaking. "Leave it," Liquid ordered, voice not sharp, but firm enough that Hal froze his desperate cleaning.

It’s gonna stain moron

Hal stood still, not sure what to do. He was resistant on turning to face the man. He didn't want him to see the fear in his eyes. Yes, he was terrified to the point of his stomach knotting and feeling slightly ill. Liquid's arms came around his body and he jerked, biting back a yelp. A light chuckle started behind him as Liquid's hands went about grabbing another cup and pouring more coffee.

All I can think about is the improv routine where Person A puts their hands under Person B’s armpits and performs tasks in front of them while Person B sits still, commentates and generally acts like Person A’s arms are theirs, or alternately Person A has to keep up with what Person B says they’re doing.

Which is funny and all but I don’t think it’s a good prelude for seduction. But then again, what do I know? And what does Liquid know, for that matter?

"There you are." Liquid offered the filled cup. "Th..thank you." Hal took it and held his breath until Liquid's arms moved back.

Also, was Otacon just, like, chilling in front of the coffee machine or what?

"You're a very nervous man," Liquid said as he moved further away to look at the computer screen. "Do I frighten you?" "No...not at all." "You're not a very good liar." He chuckled and leaned against the desk. "Turn around."

Hal swallowed and turned, eyes focusing on the man he wished would just leave the room. Something about his presence obviously made him feel on edge, but it was of the unknown. It was like he was playing a game of some kind, and only he knew the rules.

Seduce cute engineer

Get laid

Don’t piss off high-strung asexual teammate in the process

Nukes

???

$1,000,000,000

He took a drink of the coffee and the bitter taste escaped him this time. "Are you here to kill me?" He was proud that his voice didn't waver, but when Liquid only answered with a smirk, his hand shook, splashing more coffee on the floor. "Are you?!" "You have a brilliant mind. It would be such a waste to kill you."

Coming on strong there eh buddy

Moving in for the kill

Metaphorically

"Brilliant mind that's easy to manipulate," he said softly and sat the cup down with a sigh. In truth if he had known what they had planned for Metal Gear REX, he never would have created it. This whole thing had turned into a nightmare. He looked toward Liquid and moved over to a chair to sit down. He didn't trust his legs to keep him upright for much longer. He rubbed his temple, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on.

Is that not just the natural result of spending longer than two minutes in a room with Liquid?

I mean damn he’s my One True Video Game Husband™ and all but he is kind of... like that

Also, these jokes basically write themselves...

"Stressed?" Hal barked a nervous laugh. "Oh, what do I have to be stressed about?" Liquid smirked. "There are several ways to relieve stress. Drinking, smoking, having a nice bath, or swim."

*Swimming is not recommended in Alaska in February

Also, Liquid just smirked for the second time in only a couple paragraphs. Which brings up to our count earlier:

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: ||

He took a seat and put his feet up on the desk.

Rude.

"Or, you could have a nice hard fuck."

RUDE!

Hal looked away quickly, his face burning when Liquid laughed. This was definitely getting bizarre. Liquid had not physically hurt him yet, but just the tone of his voice was making his skin crawl. Hal avoided looking his way, keeping his eyes focused on the door. "Going to make a run for it?" Liquid asked. "I don't have anywhere to run to." "No, but it would be fun to chase you down. A little break from the mundane." He tapped his fingers on the desk, smirking when Hal squirmed in his seat. "Want to make a go for it?"

I think he’s bored.

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: |||

"No, I'd rather not play your game," Hal said, listening to the tapping of his fingers. The longer he sat there, the more his nerves were put on edge. He was being tormented, all because this mad man was bored.

Does it still count as pre-empting if I’ve read the fic before? I mean, it’s not like I remember much of it, last time I read it was a while ago. I uhhh kinda have a really shit memory.

"What is that in your pocket?" Liquid asked, fingers thumping away. "What?"

(Liquid Snake voice) Is it a calculator or are you just happy to see me?

"You heard me. Don't act stupid. I saw you stuffing something in your pocket when I came in. Are you hiding something from me?" "It's just a handkerchief."

(Liquid Snake voice) Alright, is it a handkerchief or are you just happy to see me?

Liquid chuckled. "Let me see it." Hal took it from his pocket with a soft sigh. He expected Liquid would take it away from him, just out of spite. The man looked at the cloth in his hand and laughed, head going back, hand pounding on the desk. Hal stuffed it back in his pocket, face burning, disturbed by his reaction. God, he just wanted him to leave.

Seems like the seduction is going well!

He looked down at his feet, and the laughter continued. "Why is it so funny?" he finally mustered enough courage to ask. "Oh..," he chuckled, "that is cute." "What?" Hal looked up at him, and saw he had put his feet back on the floor and was sitting straighter in the chair. "Sniper Wolf is leading you on, Dr. Emmerich." "She's not.." "Oh, you poor thing."

I will say this, though: it’s actually really nice to read a slashfic that actually acknowledges the straight canon pairing(s). There are way, way too many that just pretend they don’t exist, or try to excuse them away, or something - I guess because the authors are so attached to their gay male leads that they don’t want to admit that the character in question would actually be bisexual.

Because, no matter what tumblr will try to tell you, slash fanfiction was, is, and probably always will be primarily written by straight girls who like to fetishize gay men. :))))

"I'm not a fool. She's...just being nice to me. That's more than I can say for the rest of you monsters." "Monsters, are we?" Hal averted his eyes. "Yes." "Such a harsh judge of character," Liquid said with a soft chuckle. "This coming from a man that ruined his own family."

Liquid right now:

Hal looked sharply at him. "What do you mean?" "I know about your past, Dr. Emmerich. The little affair with step mommy and daddy taking the last plunge in the pool." "Shut up!" "And little sister nearly drowning too. Nice touch there." "Stop it!"

Liquid smirked soft

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: ||||

Aaaaand an adverb error again.

and stood up from the chair, watching Hal with calculating eyes. Hal looked down at his hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, his knuckles white they were clenched so tight. He hated thinking about that part of his life, and to know this man knew it made him feel dirty. 

Could be worse. This could have been written after TPP came out and Liquid could have started making Neon Genesis Evangelion jokes.

(source)

His heart was thudding hard in his chest, and he felt much too warm. He just wanted to sleep to escape this for a short time at least. "We all have our skeletons. Don't you agree, Dr. Emmerich?" His voice was soft and luring, pulling Hal's attention. The scientist looked at him, expression tepid. "I make it a priority to dig into the pasts of my enemies and prisoners alike. Don't feel so violated. Yours is tame compared to most."

“For instance, underaged Sahelanthropus piloting. We’ve all been there.”

"Wow, that makes me feel so much better," he whispered and looked away again. "You don't sound very convincing, Dr. May I call you Hal?"

Dr. May I call you Hal? That’s an interesting name!

I’m sorry :’(

"Do what you want," Hal whispered again, too busy looking at his hands to see the pleased smirk touch Liquid's lips.

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: ||||

"Get up." "Wh..what?" Hal looked up. "Up....Stand up." Hal swallowed and stood, fear trickling back ten fold, anger forgotten. Liquid watched him move, arms folded over his chest. He felt so damn vulnerable under his gaze. He looked away to stare at his coffee cup, jerking soft

-ly! -ly! I know your L and Y keys aren’t broken, author!

when Liquid made an amused sound. "I think you need something stronger than coffee, Hal. Come with me. I got something that will help you relax."

“Horse tranquilizers.”

"No, I.." "Come with me." Hal closed his eyes and nodded. "Alright."

WHAT

COULD

POSSIBLY

GO

WRONG?

Well, actually, things work out pretty nicely, all things considered. Okayyyy, so maaaaybe this fic is a li~ttle bit on the dubcon side, but...

The last thing he wanted to do was piss this guy off. Hal didn't have a chance in a hand to hand fight. He looked at Liquid, just noting that he had no gun with him. The only weapon in sight was a knife he had sheathed and strapped to his belt. He took a deep breath. "I'll come with you." Liquid smirked

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: |||| |

and waved him along as he walked to the door. They exited the lab, passing several heavily armed soldiers patrolling the halls. Hal stayed alert, trying to get more of a sense on the situation. It didn't look good. He wondered if help would come, and if it did, would they be able to make it past all the guards and alarms. It seemed impossible to him, but he was just a man, not a soldier.

Yeah but you do have the stealth camouflage, dude, just a thought

They walked the halls and even moved outside to head to another building, leaving the lab so far behind that Hal began to get increasingly nervous again. He pulled his lab coat tighter around himself as the frigid wind whipped around them, snow flakes blowing across the ground. Liquid led him back inside, nodding to a few more patrolmen as he walked along. When they finally got to a door that Liquid unlocked, Hal was starting to regret his decision to be so accommodating. He was ushered inside the room, the door shut behind them, the sound of it like finality. "This is where I've been staying," Liquid said absently, walking over to the desk to pick up a bottle of whiskey.

Whiskey’s not a good idea immediately after you froze him half to death, man. Get him some more coffee motherfucking hot chocolate, the kind with cinnamon and cloves an’ shit.

...I’m thirsty and there are a lot of Columbians in my area, okay?

"Oh," was all Hal managed as he looked at the sparse room that only had the desk, one chair and a bed. It wasn't much different than the living quarters he had here, but this room was bigger, the bed a little nicer. He heard Liquid pouring a drink and looked over as the man turned. "This will warm you up," Liquid said

Nooooooooooo

and stepped over, handing over the glass. "Sorry, no ice." "Oh, thank you." He took the offered whiskey and sipped it. "Come on, take a big swig of it," Liquid said and smirked.

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: |||| ||

Hal's hand shook and he tossed the fiery drink back, his throat burning as it slid down. He coughed and gasped, eyes watering from the strength of it. It was obvious he wasn't used to alcohol, except for the occasional wine or bottle of beer. God, this stuff was like drinking gasoline.

I can’t tell if this is just a general reaction to drinking something really strong when you’re not used to it, or Liquid just has shit taste and drinks the cheapest, worst-tasting whiskey he can get his hands on. It could be both, I guess. Both seem likely.

Liquid laughed and slapped his back. "Can't take it, Hal?" "I...*cough*..

Nope.

Not how writing works.

I'm not much of a drinker." "You get used to it," Liquid said and poured him another. "No, really, I don't want more." "Drink, and sit down." Hal nodded and moved to go for the chair but Liquid shook his head and pointed at the bed. "There." Hal opened his mouth to protest, but thought better and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge. He took another drink, this one not going down any easier as he coughed again with the burning sensation. One thing was true, he was feeling warmer from the ghastly stuff. Liquid drank straight from the bottle,

I could actually see him doing that, though... he didn’t exactly have a high-class upbringing...

eyes not leaving Hal. He cleared his throat and straightened his glasses. He wondered if a deer frozen in the path of oncoming headlights felt this way. "You really are a skittish man," Liquid said, taking another swig, drinking the whiskey like water. "Sorry, I'm not used to such brutality around me." He took another drink, fighting the urge to squirm under his gaze. Liquid grunted soft

LY

and walked over, plopping down beside him, making the mattress shift. Hal bit back a gasp, staring straight ahead and drinking the rest of the contents in his glass. He shivered as the whiskey went down, the burning sensation not as harsh this time. Perhaps it was starting to have a numbing affect. "We look at things differently, Hal. What you call brutality, I call necessity." "I won't try to understand your way of thinking." "That's probably best," he said, filling the glass Hal held loosely in his hand. "Drink," he urged softly.

The second and last time the author actually uses the adverb correctly!

They fuck it up more often than they get it right!

Hal relented, drinking as he ordered. The quicker he got this done, the quicker Liquid would let him go back to the lab, or off to go sleep if he was really lucky.

You’re kind of slow, aren’t you, dear?

He swallowed the last bit and blinked, feeling the start of a drunken buzz fill his head. Liquid saw it as much as Hal felt it. "Mm, lightweight as well." He took the glass from Hal's fingers and set it, along with the bottle, on the floor.

Because that’s always a good idea.

Did anyone ever clean up that coffee spill in the lab?

"I should get back," Hal muttered. Liquid chuckled. "That's cute. I could tell you would be fun." Hal blinked, looking at him. "Fun?" He put his hand to his head. "All I am is a little drunk." "Like I said, cute." Liquid's fingers touched Hal's cheek. "Wha.." Hal jerked soft,

the fogginess of his brain taking a moment to realize what Liquid had in mind. "I really..need to go." He tried to stand, but felt the tight grip of Liquid's hand around his wrist and was yanked back down on his ass. "No, no. You're going to keep me company." "Can't you get one of your people to spend time with you?" he asked, voice shaking. "I make it a rule to never fuck my subordinates," Liquid said, leaning closer.

...has this come up before?

Hal turned his head, then felt the touch of his lips against his neck. The slick feel of his tongue followed, the muscle swirling and teasing his flesh in such a way that he whimpered as it brushed skillfully. It enticed a breathy chuckle from the man who was taking control of his body with such ease. He was still scared, he couldn't deny that, but his touch was having a luring affect on his senses. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was his own weakness. He had been seduced before. No, he wouldn't think about his past and compare it to this.

Yeah I mean at least they’re both adults here ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He'd never been with a man before, but somehow that didn't matter. Only the sensations did. Liquid put a hand to his cheek and forced him to turn his head. The man smirked, then moved forward to capture Hal's mouth with a strong kiss, his tongue parted and penetrating his lips.

I like the tense error implying that Liquid’s tongue itself parted.

I mean, I guess he is a Snake, so a forked tongue is only appropriate...

Also,

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: |||| |||

Hal could taste the whiskey on the tongue that thrust and explored in his mouth. He was getting to like the taste now,

A ELLA ÉL LE GUSTA LA GASOLINA

his own tongue eagerly moving and rolling around it. His hands clamped onto Liquid's strong shoulders, panting harshly as the kiss deepened further, their teeth clashing with the force of it. It was too damn hot in the room. Hal tried to shoulder his lab coat off and got some help from Liquid. He chuckled into the kiss and helped him along, yanking it down his arms with such force that Hal heard the soft sound of torn threads

Hopefully he has another coat lying around somewhere? lol

over his own needy moans. The kiss broke with an audible pop as Liquid pushed Hal back on the bed and moved quick to straddle over his waist to trap his prey. "Well, this is a pleasant turn of events," Liquid said above him. "Here I thought I would have to force you." "I.." "I do prefer a willing partner,"

*insert bitching about rapist!Liquid here*

Liquid continued over him, stripping his shirt off to reveal packed muscle and skin that was covered with several scars from long ago battles. "You want me, yes?" Liquid smirked.

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: |||| ||||

Hal's face burned. "Yes," he whispered, looking away from Liquid's smug expression.

Can you believe I don’t have a smug animé girl edited to look like Liquid Snake lying around? Here, take this instead.

Close enough

"Mm, you are going to give me a lot of pleasure," his voice purred as his hand ran over Hal's shirt, thumb flicking open the buttons as he went.

Have these authors ever actually tried to unbutton clothes with just a finger? It’s like... not really a thing you can do. (Cue someone submitting a video of them doing to my inbox.)

Also, Liquid, honey, that’s not really a good line. You’re gonna kill the mood.

"Please, don't hurt me," Hal said, shivering with renewed arousal as Liquid's fingertips brushed over his exposed chest. "Oh, it might hurt here and there." Hal's eyes widened. Liquid smirked.

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli: |||| ||||

"But you'll love it." He proved his statement by pinching Hal's nipples

I HATE THAT WORD

between thumbs and forefingers, twisting and tugging them until Hal was squirming and gasping. Hal felt his lower body responding, his cock jerking while it stiffened hard against the inside of his pants as his nipples were deliciously abused. He gasped harder when the heat of Liquid's tongue toyed over the point of one stiffened nub,

BUT THAT ONE’S WORSE

the other still being tortured with practiced fingers. Hal flushed as he looked down and met Liquid's upturned eyes. He suckled languidly over the nub, his teeth joined in the play, scraping the sensitive flesh.

Honestly, I don’t think the English language really has a way to make nipple-play not sound totally stupid.

Hal yelped and slapped a hand over his mouth, blushing deeper. Liquid pulled off the nipple and grinned. "Oh, a screamer. My favorite." "No, I..." Hal squirmed when Liquid's knee ran up between his legs and over the bulge in his pants. "Ahh." "Worried the guards will hear you, hm?" "Ahh....Did you have to mention that?" "How far is this blush going?" Liquid rasped, 

Baby what the shit are you even saying

I like how, even in a fic where he’s supposed to be all suave and seductive, Liquid still can’t talk like a goshdamn normal fucking person. It’s canon.

hand moving to Hal's belt to unfasten. Before Hal knew it, his lower half was stripped. Liquid licked his lips and lowered back down, hand gripping the base of Hal's cock. He groaned, even before his lips wrapped around the head of his swollen member. He bit his lip, hands gripping the sheets beneath his body. The mixture of booze and sensations made his head spin, causing him lose his sense of modesty. He moaned out, hips pumping to the pleasure. It had been so long since he had felt something so personal, so good. Rough hands pushed his legs apart, shocking him enough to freeze his wanting gyrations. He looked down, panting heavy, whimpering when he watched Liquid pull his mouth from his cock to smirk.

Wipe That Look Off Your Face, Eli, And Get Back On His Dick And Finish What You Started: |||| |||| |

He didn't want him to stop, but he didn't beg. He already felt weak enough for being lured into this. Liquid shifted, the leather of his belt creaking as he moved up. Hal watched him, breathing still hectic, heart pounding. Liquid pressed two fingers to his lips. "Suck." "Mn." Hal's lips parted hesitantly at first. The fingers slid in and he rolled his tongue over them, sucking and wetting the digits. He liked the way Liquid's eyes lidded and the pleased groans he made.

...from getting his fingers sucked?

I mean I totally get that it’s hot and all, but boy that’s weak as hell.

"That's good." Liquid pulled his fingers from his mouth. "Keep your legs open," he growled soft.

LY!!!!!!!!

Hal shuddered when his hand lowered, the wet fingers tracing over his throbbing cock and teasing at his balls before going further. His first instinct was to do what Liquid warned him not to; put his legs together. His thighs trembled and he made another soft, whimpering sound. The saliva slick fingers slide between his cheeks and pressed against his opening. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Yet, his cock jerked when a deeper lust rippled through his body. The fingers pushed past the resistant ring of muscle. "Oh God..it...." The fingers rolled roughly. "Hurts!" "Relax, I haven't gotten to the good part yet," Liquid said and chuckled harshly.

Chuckled... harshly.

...

"Mn." Hal turned his head against the pillow, eyes closed tight. He groaned, fighting to make his lower body relax to the intrusion. The digits thrusts and rolled, scissored and stretched his insides until he was shivering and dripping with perspiration. The pain was still there, but subsided slowly the longer he was toyed with. He turned his head back to look at Liquid with eyes that begged for more. "How does this feel?" His fingers shifted inside, pressing that most inner spot. "AH!" Pleasure like he had never felt before took over his lower region as Liquid fondled his prostate with skillful fingers.

Hal Learns What Prostate Play Is

I’m still like 90% sure that Julie pegged him, though.

Maybe she was just really bad at it.

His legs shook, his back arched, hips rising to open himself more to Liquid's will. "Not shy anymore, I see," Liquid said, the bed creaking as he shifted around, fingers still delving and working his tunnel.

His other hand working his belt open, nimble fingers popping the button and yanking down the zipper. Hal watched him, breath hitching. "Wa..wait.." "Never tell an aroused man to wait, Hal." Liquid pulled his fingers free and rid himself of his pants and boxers with a rough yank to let them hang at his knees, not bothering to even take his boots off. He's actually going to fuck me with that! Hal stared at Liquid's cock.

*crosses fingers* Please don’t be twelve inches long, please don’t be twelve inches long, please don’t be twelve inches long...

It wasn't huge, but neither was it small. No, not by any means. He couldn't take his eyes away, exploring the veins and the head that was reddish in color from the state of extreme arousal. He didn't have much more of a visual when Liquid moved forward between his splayed legs.

Oh, good. No unnecessarily specific measurements.

He braced for the pain. "You look absolutely terrified right now, but your curiosity is too much for you to resist," Liquid observed,

You like Castlevania, don’t you?

pulling Hal's legs up as he pushed against his prepared opening. "Please." Hal held his breath as the thick head pushed in, holding it until Liquid slid in firm, base deep. "Oh God." He groaned, steeling himself against the pain, but it was easy when pleasure played the bigger part. Liquid didn't hold back, hips thrusting in a slow, but steady rhythm. Hal met each motion, unsure at first, then rocking to his pace, the bed shifting and creaking with their weight. It felt so surreal. The alcohol whirled his senses further, his own cries of ecstasy sounding strange and clouded to his own ears. Sweat built between their bodies, Liquid's hard abs brushing his throbbing cock,

Otacon should count himself lucky for being able to rub his dick over Liquid’s 200 abs.

Some of us don’t even have a dick we could do that with!!

wringing more yells out of Hal as they ground against each other. "I'm going to fuck you until you pass out," growled Liquid,

How To Talk Dirty, a Guide to the Bedroom by Liquid Snake: Raise as many red flags as humanly possible without saying you’re going to inhabit their skin (optional)

grunting each time his balls slapped against his ass with a forceful thrust. "AH!" Hal gripped his shoulders, feeling his climax approaching faster each time his cock massaged that perfect spot deep inside his body. "I can't.." His cock jerked between them and the sticky heat of his seed spilled, coating their stomachs. Hal moaned out, fingers clamping harder on his broad shoulders as he was taken through the pleasure. "Oh, you will," Liquid grunted, still pounding into him relentlessly. "And I'll show you." As it turned out, Liquid was right.

Apropos of nothing, “As Long As You’re Mine” just came on my iTunes playlist.

Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight~

When Hal woke up, it was to a headache, sour stomach and body so sore that he felt like he had been beaten. He groaned, face pressed against the pillow as he slowly pieced together what had happened between he and Liquid. Sober, but with a hangover, he now looked back on it with a weird sense of loss.

...

True, he wasn't exactly innocent to begin with, but the things he'd let Liquid do to him...

See previous comment about pegging.

No, he wouldn't think about it, or what Liquid would have done if he hadn't been so compliant with his advances. He held his breath and lifted his aching head from the pillow to see he was alone in the room. He was relieved. Hal forced himself to sit up, sheet falling off his nude body to reveal some bruises and the dried remains of spent seed. He grimaced and sighed. He blinked, the room slightly fuzzy. He felt over his face, not feeling his glasses. Liquid must have taken them off him after he lost consciousness.

Well, that was nice of him!

He forced himself to stand and he shuffled to the desk where his glasses sat beside a bottle of aspirin and a glass of juice. He slipped them on, noticing the note as his vision cleared.

Still rather nice of him. Predicted contents of note: Don’t get used to it, Emmerich.

I enjoyed you very much, Hal. I have a mind to keep you. For your mind, and body. But, on to business. Take some of the aspirin I left for you, get a meal and a shower, then get back to the lab. Do not worry, the guards have been told to let you do what you need to do. As it is, I will be busy for the time being. I will look forward to having you again when I am able. Liquid

Translation: Get used to it, Emmerich.

Hal swallowed, dropping the note. Was he serious? He tried to put the worry from his mind as he went about doing what the note said to do. The worst part was passing the guards, getting catcalls and snickers as he hurried by them. By the time he made it back to the lab, his headache was just a dull throb, but he took a few more aspirin for good measure. He sat, hissing, and not for the first time that day when his sore rear end made itself known. His face burned with shame. God, this was a nightmare. He shook himself, turned his computer on and drank a strong cup of coffee while he waited for his files to load. His eyes felt too heavy, and he tiredly looked at the bright screen. Great, he had gotten some sleep and felt worse than he did yesterday thanks to Liquid and his perverse needs.

How many cups of coffee did you drink again?

All things considered, at least you got something out of it, besides sleep...

...

You know, I think my favorite thing about Otaliquid is Otacon meeting Snake and going like “O_o There’s two of them?!” Granted, he was doing that anyway, but it takes on a whole new dimension with the addition of Liquid fuckin’.

Again he pushed the thought of the night away and got to work, typing in a few codes before an alarm sounded through the facility. ALERT: THERE IS AN INTRUDER!! Could it be? Hal's heart raced, a shimmer of hope filling him as he listened to the announcement continue. Someone had finally come. He prayed it was someone strong enough to overcome the obstacles this place held. He prayed he would be rescued and not forced to suffer at the hands of Liquid's intentions. He prayed.

La fin.

So. As I said, not too bad except for a couple things. I’d probably give it a C+.

Y’know, an editor might have helped. Someone to point out that you probably should use the words “smirked” or “smirking” eleven fucking times in only about 4.5k words. It gets really annoying. Like, we get it. He’s a smug little shit, WE GET IT.

Anyway, that wraps up this sporking. Tune in next time for... huh... I dunno. Something? Hopefully it’ll be up soon.

See y’all!!