#it'll be nice once everything's done though

[moon-fics]

Pool Day

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: The team decided to request a pool, not thinking it would be made. Now, they have a pool.

A/n: Ugh! I love a good beach/pool episode! But this time, the relationship is established.

When Valentina asked if there was anything the team wanted in the tower, she meant like a training simulator or a chef. So, when Yelena spoke up, saying she wanted a pool, everyone backed her up. No one expected Valentina to actually go through with it because she didn't like them.

So, when Valentine announced the pool was done, everyone was flabbergasted. They were most astonished by the fact that she built it outside where the sun could be enjoyed. However, she said that was the last unnecessary request she'd be entertaining.

Of course, when the first day of summer rolled around, the pool was not forgotten.

---

You sit at the edge of the pool with your legs under the water. You're thankful you had time to buy a new swimsuit. It wasn't the best one you could find, but it'll do.

Yelena has found interest in sleeping on one of the floats. She's knocked out as the float hits one of the walls of the pool. Meanwhile, John is in the shallow area drinking a fruity smoothie. For the most part, everyone is relaxing for the first time in a while.

You sense a presence behind you and immediately turn. You're far too late, as two pairs of hands shove you into the chilly water. Your entire body is submerged, and water enters your nose. You pop out of the water, coughing and wiping your nose.

When you finally look up, you see Alexei and Bob standing where you were sitting. Alexei is hands on knees laughing and pointing at you as if he's pulled off a master prank.

"Is the water nice?" Bob asks. He holds out his hand for you to take. Even after shoving you into the pool, he's still kind enough to pull you back out. You should just take his hand and be thankful for the refreshing dunk. You aren't that type of person.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" You grip his forearm and yank as hard as possible. He doesn't take a lot of effort to pull. The splash from his fall wakes up Yelena, who lifts her sunglasses as Bob pops up from the water.

"'Ey, I don't want any rough housing," She points at you and Bob with a raised eyebrow. "Don't wake me again," She warns and puts her sunglasses back on.

The moment Yelena is back to resting, Bob's arms wrap around your waist. His head rests on top of yours, and water drips from his chin to your nose. He creates a sort of shade over your face to block out the sun.

"I could get used to this," You keep your voice down. Bob hums in response. He sways both of you carefully while he enjoys the closeness. "Did you swim a lot in Florida?"

"Oh yeah, like, every day." He nods without hitting your head. He relinquishes his hold on you and spins you around to face him. "It was either the pool or the beach. I preferred the beach because when the wind is strong enough, the waves get super high."

"That sounds fun," You say. "We should have asked for a wave pool, too." You laugh. Maybe you can suggest it to Valentina as a way to train for water-based threats. Though you doubt she'd accept that answer.

"The last time I was in a wave pool, I got kicked in the head three times," Bob chuckles. His hands move to rest on your waist to keep you near him. "I'm pretty sure they should be banned for how dangerous they are." His face becomes serious as he thinks.

"Oh, you can't handle some waves?" You tease. You already have something in mind and begin floating away from him. His brows furrow, and he watches you get a few feet away. You wind up your arm and roughly glide it across the surface to create a small wave.

It drenches Bob once again, but once the splash clears, he's gone. Before you can react, his hands are on your legs. He efficiently drags you under, but cradles your head before it hits the floor.

You open your eyes, but the water makes everything blurry. All you can see is Bob's outline as it gets closer. His hands cup your face, and his lips press against yours as gently as possible. The kiss only lasts a few seconds due to a lack of air, but those seconds are like a treasure. His lips are all you can feel as your senses are blocked by the water.

When you emerge, you gasp for air, but he doesn't. You chalk it up to him having more experience in bodies of water than you.

Once you catch your breath, he calls your name. You look towards him only to be hit in the face by water. He forgets how strong he is and gets Yelena and John wet.

"Oh, come on!" John groans. He holds up his half drank smoothie that now has chlorine water in it.

"Ok, that's it! No more pool for you two!" Yelena shouts.

[v1x3n]

SCENARIOS ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - fluff (for once) - trauma, logan being a lil sweetheart, suggestions and mentions to your past.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

Sharp breaths - in and out - as you look around the winding room. It's been a week since you saw Johnny, you haven't seen any of them so far. You never spoke to them before but you would see them standing outside your door, their shadow slipping underneath the door, or when John let himself inside and sat beside you. But this week you've been alone, no one was there. And honestly? It's been the best week of your life. 

You let the sheets fall down as you sit up, dazed. The seat beside you, lonely, stood there. You thought to yourself for a second. You missed the way the air hitched as you noticed John there, missed the way the air smelt like him. 

You despised how much you missed him. You hate the fact that he brings you a sense of comfort but then again, it's nice to feel comfort. Even if its from the man you hate the most - the man you wished would die, the man who put you through so much fucking pain. 

Ashamed in yourself you sigh, long breath escaping you when you look over at the door yet again. There's a shadow slipping through the door, the silhouette could only be one person – the man opens your door and gives you a cheeky smirk, “hi!” Logan smiles, letting himself into your room. You give him a hum in return.

Logan trots along excitedly, sitting in the loney chair, giving it and you company. “Heard bout what happened and i wanted to check on you” head tilting to the side as his eyes glint with amusement.

“Ah” you mumble. It's been weeks, months? Since you started to kinda trust Logan, you wouldn't speak to him, would never utter a word but you've gotten used to him. His smile and his silly humour. So overtime, he got more and more words out of you, your voice was slightly raspy. You clearly weren't used to talking that much. “Well… thanks.” you let out a slow mumble. 

“Mhmmm! So how are you? Has the twat bothered you?”

“Dont wanna talk about it” you mutter, eyes faced down onto your bedsheets, your mutilated hand gripping the white blanket.

It's quiet for a second but it feels like years. The silence overwhelming you. “Soo…” Logan utters, breaking the awkward, “since the doctors took my cards and we cant play snap, i dont have anymore games.” his eyebrows furrowed together, clearly irritated his precious cards was gone. “Wanna play like a word game?? Liikkkee truth or dare!” he says excitedly but it dies down when you give him a strange look. His face droops almost, “...or not cause that's for kids, obviously!”

You let out a slight, small huff in amusement, it's the closest you've been to a laugh since everything. “Howww about would you rather? Deep version” his eyebrows depart and wiggle around. You nod, thinking why not - not like you have anything else to do.

“Would you rather be blind or deaf.”

“This is deep?” you let out a scoff.

He rolls his eyes, “it'll get there.”

“Blind i think.” you look up at Logan, “what would you?” 

Logan thinks for a second as he huffs out a breath, “blind too, cause then i wouldn't be able to hear you.”

“You wouldn't be able to play snap or see me though” a chortle sounds from the two of you.

His eyes glisten slightly as he looks at you with a quirk in his lips, “you've JUST started talking to me though and i want to continue hearing your voice. “

You simply don't reply. 

“Would you ratherrrr lose all of your old memories, or never be able to make new ones?” he asks with a kink in his eyebrows. He brings his leg up and crosses it over the other as you scowl at him. “Arent, I meant to ask one?”

“No, I wanna ask!!” 

“Okay, lose all my old memories.”

He looks at you with an intrigue, “oh? That was quick. Why?” 

You murmur in response, “I'd have a better future.” you offer him not much of an explanation but he seemed okay with that by the way he shrugged. “Hmm I would too, just cause I like meeting new people. Plus I'd forget about the fat holes in my stomach, youchhh! That hurt like a bitchh!”

Despite your best efforts, a silent laugh slips from you. Logan beams at that, his eyes practically lighting up at your curved lips. “Would you rathherrr know when or how you’re going to die?” 

“Huh, uhm when.”

“Hmmm? Wouldn't that be scary though, like a countdown?”

“Atleast id know, its kinda like–... it's basically a count down anyways you just don't know”

“Damn” Logan sits up straight, smiling a little at you. “Yeahh id pick that too.”

Rounds go by, where Logan would ask random questions. Some were silly like would you rather have a mullet or be bald, then some were strangely deep. 

Hes sat with his legs crossed on the once alone chair, and you're sat up against the cold pillows of your bed. The sheets pulled down to the end of the bed, while you sat in your hospital clothes, the fabric flowing over your body. “Okay okay i have a good one, would you rather know what the happiest day of your life or the worst day of your life will be?”

“So can they have already had happened?”

“Hmmm yeah! Sure sure” 

“Worst.” 

He looks surprised as you tell him, “really? Why? That's such a downer.”

“Yeah well i'm sure the worst day of my life has already happened so- i guess it'll be like comfort nothing worse would happen.” you shrug whilst looking Logan towards his glimmering eyes. 

“I think I know the best day of my life,” Logan responds.

You hum in question.

“When I first met you, obviously!” he chuckles with a daft smile on his face. You roll your eyes at him. “Right.” 

“Okay classic question, fight 100 duck sized elephants or one elephant sized duck.” 

Once again, you roll your eyes at him. His eyes linger on your face as you think about his question. They trail over your scars that litter your face, and the way your eyebrows twitch when you think. “100 duck sized elephants.” 

“Yeahh it'll be easier, plus ducks are violent as hell! A goose once ate my top.” 

“What?” you exclaim, trying to process what you just heard, “you do know ducks aren't geese? Completely different animals.” 

“Look the same so I'm mad at both of them.” he shrugs.

Your head nods exaggeratedly. 

You Scratch softly as the scar on your cheek as Logan watches while you do. You're surprised he hasn't asked about it honestly. “Would you rather forgive the people who have wronged you or be forgiven by the people you've wronged?”

“Second one.” you reply instantly. 

“Why's that?”

You mumble while looking down, the burn on your cheek hitting you. “I can't forgive them – the people who hurt me.”

He raises an eyebrow, “you can forgive anyone, it just takes time and growth.”

“You don't understand-" the scar on your cheek dribbles a spot of blood, hitting the bed, “shit.” 

“Ah fuck.” Logan groans, quickly standing - moving to the bathroom and grabbing toilet paper. Dabbing the bleeding on the reopened wound. “It's okay, just hold this down.” you do as he says, pressing the paper to your cheek. 

“I'd forgive whoever had wronged me, I hate being mad at people!” 

You give him a small smile and he responds, “you have such a nice smile.” hs states.

Your eyes widen, “oh uhm thanks..” 

“Oh shit it's literally dinner, wanna go down to eat?” 

You tilt your head, “go down?” 

“Yeah ! like the cafeteria?”

“Oh i've just always had my food brought up-” 

Logan cuts you off, “yack that foods kinda mank, c'mon i'll buy you something.”

Who are you to say no to free food?

[megatraven]

what marks the future for us

Pairing: Polytrix (Mira x Rumi x Zoey) Summary: Rumi's insecurity rears its head when she catches Zoey and Mira staring at her patterns. Words: 1064 || Rating: T || AO3

_

The moment she starts to shrug her jacket off, she can feel their eyes on her.

Again.

It happens every time- but when she looks up at them, they immediately look away, pretending they hadn't been staring at her. She knows they don't mean anything bad by it... but it makes her skin itch, and it's only through pure will that she doesn't scratch the skin from her arms into a bloodied mess, patterns and all.

This time, she turns to them and puts her foot down.

"What?!" she exclaims, before the other two can look away. She shimmies her jacket back on, crossing her arms. "Why do you keep staring at me? At my..."

She looks away, feeling the patterns on her face shimmer as her cheeks heat up, frustration and anxiety boiling over. More aggressive than she means to be, she zips her jacket back up, hiding her exposed midriff and collarbone. The zipper nearly rips off between her fingers, which only aggravates her more.

"I thought you didn't- I thought we were okay, but-"

Zoey jumps forward, almost falling into her as she cuts her off.

"We are! We're totally okay!" she exclaims, holding her hands out to placate her. Her eyes are wide, and genuine surprise draws her brows higher as the words rush out from her mouth. "You didn't do anything wrong, Rumi! It's just- I mean, before you, we never really got to have a close look at demon marks before, and yours are so, well, different! We aren't judging you for having them, you're just-"

"Hot," Mira finishes for her. Zoey nods enthusiastically, never taking her eyes off of their leader.

When Rumi looks between the two of them, every demon mark on her body gleams, as if she were blushing with her entire body.

"...What?" she says again, this time from surprise. She blinks, sure she must have misheard.

"You're hot," Mira repeats, raising a brow.

"Oh."

Her confusion- denial?- is palpable, but thankfully, Zoey jumps in again.

"We've been friends for years, but we've never seen you be so... casual!"

"You've always been pretty modest," Mira throws in.

"It's just... nice. To see you." Her hands reach forward and take one of Rumi's, squeezing it before pushing her sleeve up. The patterns on her arm peek out, pulsing at Zoey's touch. "All of you."

"....Oh." She wants to say more, but the words stick in her throat. She sniffles, suddenly overcome with emotion, and just barely keeps herself from crying. She knows that once she starts, it'll get Zoey going, and Mira won't be far behind if the both of them are in tears.

She stands there for a long moment, frozen as she processes everything they'd just said. Swallowing, she tries to speak, but the words don't come out. Unlike when her voice broke during their practice performance of Takedown, this wasn't because of her marks. Rather, there was an intense, burning ache in her that refuses to get snuffed out.

It's a familiar feeling, in a strange way. She's felt it most of her life, most prominently after she'd met the girls and became their friend... their leader. She always had to hold herself back, keep parts of herself hidden. It hadn't been fair- not to them, and certainly not to herself. But she'd done it anyway, certain at the time that it was for the best, that it was the right thing to do.

And still... she wanted what they had. She wanted to go to the bathhouse together, she wanted to casually strip down to her underwear when it was too hot to do anything, she wanted to do what they could do. Show off their skin, get help with putting her hair up or taking it down, exist comfortably with each other.

Maybe more than that, though, she wanted this.

Them.

She longed for it.

"Okay," she finally says, voice cracking.

The pain in her throat spreads down to her chest, and before she knows it, Mira's in front of her, next to Zoey, reaching for her face. She almost flinches from how fast she moves, but then Mira's cradling her face between her hands, and Rumi can't help relaxing into them as her breath hitches. Thumbs wipe at the tears that spill over her cheeks, trailing over the two demon marks that curve beneath her eyes.

She can't look away from them even when her cry turns into a sob, but when Zoey and Mira start to cry with her, there's no pang in her heart like she expected. Instead, there's relief. They're not crying because of her, or even for her, really. They're crying because... they're happy too.

Pulling away from Zoey's hands, Rumi throws an arm over each girl's shoulder and falls to her knees, pulling them down with her. All three embrace, riding out the wave of emotion until Rumi's sobs peter out.

"S-so," she starts, taking a shaky breath. "You think I'm hot, huh?"

Zoey smiles wide and rolls her eyes a bit.

"Duh!"

Mira's grin is sharp, despite the tears.

"Yeah. So take off the jacket."

A laugh erupts from Rumi at that, and there's a lightness in her that she's never felt before. Everything she'd longed for, everything she'd wanted, it was hers now. She could be herself. She didn't have to yearn for it anymore, it was all right here, right in front of her.

No more hiding.

She lets go of Zoey and Mira long enough to bring the zipper back down, smiling all the way. Just as quick, she shrugs it off like she'd intended to do earlier, a satisfying whump as the fabric falls to the floor around her. She's about to hug the girls again when they both gasp.

"What is..." her words trail off. Looking down at her own body, at the exposed demon marks, she sees what they see. Iridescent marks that were faded into her skin glow now, as bright as they had when they fought Gwi-Ma together.

"Wow, Rumi... they're so beautiful!" Zoey exclaims, grabbing one of her arms. The compliment and the touch make the marks pulse again, and this time Rumi's face turns pink.

Mira's finger pokes at her stomach before she looks up at Rumi again.

"...Hot."

And for the first time in her life, Rumi believes that she might be.

[metriaaqua]

In The Wild Wild West | 0

A Fateful Encounter

next

THIS CHAPTER: Two nights before the Steel Ball Run is scheduled, an experience in your father’s bar only further fuels your decision to participate. No matter what anyone thought or said, you’d be at that race.

WARNINGS: period-typical sexism. gyro sorta smells normal jumpscare (im COPING) (I PROMISE THAT MAN WILL BE STINKY LATER)

NOTE: STEEL BALL RUN IS REAL HELLOOOOOO!! after the stream i went outside and frolicked around in the beautiful sun and picked flowers. life is good. ALWAYS KEEP HOPE NO MATTER WHAT.…. still waiting on my diego.png. that announcement gave me enough motivation to finish this rewrite!! hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing this once more! this is only an intro, so it'll be a little shorter than normal, the rest of the chapters will be WAY longer!

$50,000,000. 

That’s the prize for first place in the Steel Ball Run race. There are other prizes for the rest of the placements, but they pale in comparison to first place. You couldn’t believe it then and still couldn’t believe it now. 

The thought of it brings a smile to your face as you clean a glass. Maybe about…42 more glasses to clean and you’d finally make enough actually to enter. The entry fee was $1,200 and unfortunately for you, you’ve got $710 right now, including quarters and nickels you’d find lying within the streets. Every little bit helps.

In order to get to your goal faster, you volunteered to work at your father’s saloon as a barmaid.

Of course, you omitted the reasoning as to why, so he probably thinks you’re just doing a good deed and helping the business. The only things you were really focused on was winning the race and becoming a full-fledged writer. Now that you think about it, when the race was said and done, what would you be buying for yourself?

Beautiful silk clothing like those rich girls around town would wear? Those pearl earrings you'd see on their ear? God, you wish.

Not only was writing your motivator, but occasionally seeing those upper-class women around town made you want to splurge. It’s their fault through and through.

They'd only really pass through town, yet you still find yourself looking at them anyway. When you wondered why you couldn't stop seeing them, you chalked it up to them wanting to rub their wealth in your face. The lives of the aristocrats are so much better than yours and each time they’d pass, the reminder was just a slap in the face.

Their tactics to make you jealous worked a little too well, and even if mother would gently remind you that it's all in your head, you found yourself wanting that life, too.

Everything’s going to be achieved once you win the Steel Ball Run. You just know it. Your aspiration. Your dreams—

“You know, you’ve been rubbing the same glass for about five minutes now. Are you okay?” A woman asked, watching as you suddenly clam up. “Should I call for help?” 

"Oh, no,” You quickly apologize afterward, setting the glass down. This is your reality at the moment, the closing barmaid for the rest of the night at the saloon. There were still quite a few people in here even though the sun had started setting and it was about 45 minutes or so until close. After all, this is the saloon that never sleeps: Lucky Spur.

That is until it’s closed. Makes you giggle a little.

The air was thick with the scent of nicotine, alcohol, and now the faintest hint of perfume from this woman in your area. “Did you want something to drink?” You ask her.

“Just a water, but can you make something nice for that handsome man over there too?” She sticks a finger behind her to point in his direction. “Wanna try and get on his good side a bit before I charm him.”

Handsome, she says? You’ll just have to see for yourself. When you turn to look, you think you’re completely blinded by his radiance…

Well, that’s being overdramatic.

Hey, she was right though. The man was attractive. With long flowing blonde hair that reached far down his back, he had a sharp face with piercing emerald green eyes that almost sparkled even in the dim lighting of the saloon. He’s got a strange beard pattern on his chin, squares of blonde lining upward on his jaw. You might be seeing things, but it looked like he had some green lipstick on as well.

The way that he looks makes you ignore the strange getup he has on. Must be a cowboy, the way he’s got his hat perched up on his head and the cape that cascades down his back. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cowboy dress that way, though.

He’s got an annoyed look on his face, one that scrunches up even more when he reaches a hand down to adjust his boot. 

It’s no wonder this woman had been twirling her auburn hair on her fingers with a dreamy look in her eye. You’d probably be doing the same, had you not wondered how long he’d been here for. All he was doing was sit at the table idly and you don’t recall serving him. There’s no way your head was in the clouds for that long.

Maybe he had come earlier than you had, but if that was the case, he would’ve been sitting there for hours and still hadn’t ordered a damn thing. 

When closing time comes, what then? You can only hope that you won’t have to be the one to shoo him away. Having to look him in the eye might make it a little too tempting to say he could stay as long as he wanted to. You can almost feel your face heating up, so you quickly fill a glass of water and place it in front of the woman.

Now, something that’ll impress this guy, maybe something that'll get his attention. Once again, you decide to take another look at him.

You'd always had an eye for those things, being able to roughly guess what kind of drinks a person would like. The women who came here often preferred something light on their stomachs in comparison to people who usually gamble here. They enjoyed a drink that would go down easy, as long as they could focus on their games. Something in the middle would suffice for them.

Based off this situation? This woman wanted his attention and she was going to get it because of you. There's a sudden pang of admiration that shoots through you, followed by envy shortly after. Even if he annoyed you a little bit by not ordering anything, you wish you had the chance to jump at him first.

The man's eyes eventually flicker over to you and nearly give you a heart attack, causing you to pick up another glass and wipe it over at least five times. You must've been staring at him for a little too long.

The woman at the counter eagerly turns to you. “He was looking at me! Did you see it?” She asks in excitement. 

You don’t answer her at first.

They're customers. You should treat them as such and do your job. Instead of being jealous, maybe you should focus on getting money to enter. If you’re lucky, this woman would tip you after.

“Sure did. How could he not? You’re very beautiful!”

You can see her blush and press her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, you flatter me!”

Prayerfully, you’ll get a tip for your kindness.

Anyhow, Brandy would do him good, as his appearance made you lean towards something a little more on the harsh side. With only a sprinkle of sugar and an addition of bitters, you reach down and add a singular lemon to rest on its rim.

Simple. You set the glass on the wooden counter gently. “Here you go.” You say. “Hope that works.”

Once she takes it energetically, she bounces on over to where the man is. Whatever. To distract yourself from taking a look at them and driving yourself nuts for no reason, you snatch up the newspaper you’d been looking at earlier, burying your nose in it.

The newspapers just won’t stop talking about this race. No matter what date it was issued, it’s been the talk of the entire month of September. Not only would it start in two days, but this is the first cross-country horseback race.

This Steven Steel guy, the organizer of this race, what a crazy man. Where did he even get an idea like this from? 

Sign-ups were on site thank goodness, but it wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t have enough money. Your window of opportunity was steadily closing and you had to hurry things up if you wanted to make it in time.

Your horse, all of the practice, that’s all set. You’re fine in those departments. It’s the money part that’s holding you back. Though, you can’t help but smile at the thought of your horse. 

Nirvana, the Friesian that would lead you clear across that finish line to victory. Another perfect reason to come here often was to visit a family friend, Miss Ava. She owned a large ranch near the end of town. You’d clean things up around the house and tend to some of the animals and she’d reward you with food or trinkets.  

Her son, Liam was there too, you guess. The brother you never had—or wanted, honestly. You always believed he’d been jealous of you because you were so close to his mother. He eventually came around after you admitted your interest in horses. Even more so when you mentioned the race. 

It was luck, fate even, when he told you he had been a jockey a few years ago. There was an agreement between you both that he’d let you borrow Nirvana for the race, though the promise he made you keep (one he made sure you linked pinkies for), was that when you get famous, you’d mention him at every so often. No matter what question was asked, you’d always shoehorn Liam into it. Vain, but if it’s something you have to do, fine.

Then he made it abundantly clear that just because you’re a woman, it didn’t mean you’d get the easy route when it came to riding. You’d be treated just like a man by him and he insisted that it’d be no different in the race.

There’d be a red target plastered right on your back. Anyone could take a shot at any time. 

That part may have been scary, but what probably was scarier was all the injuries you'd get from falling off Nirvana every so often. Liam reckons you’re lucky that it’s only scratches and bruises and that Nirvana hasn’t kicked you with her hind legs yet and killed you.

Now that you think about him, you’re pretty sure you have to remember to meet him tomorrow afternoon. He asked you to see him as soon as you had woken up.

“Hey! You listenin'?!” Another patron calls, waving his hand in the air to get your attention. He waves a cigar in his hand, spreading the smoke in the air. It makes you fight the urge to pinch your nose. They seemed to be in the middle of a very serious poker game, but you were sure that if they didn't get their next round of drinks, they'd just die. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Setting it down gently, you come around from the bar to serve him, an apologetic look on your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you too well. I was reading the paper. Could you repeat what you said earlier?”

Your voice is sweet, cutting through the boisterous laughter directed towards you by the men. It makes you feel like you’re the butt of a joke only they know about, and the way they eyed you like a piece of meat hadn’t helped.

“..What's a pretty girl like you doing reading the newspaper anyway? Shouldn't you be entertaining us?” One man asks, lowering his deck of cards. “It can't be that interesting, can it?”

“It is,” You nod. “They're talking about the horse-back race. I think I may even enter.” You feel proud as you say those words, putting your hands on your hips with a smile. But then the men fall into more howls of laughter. “Why're you all laughing? I'm serious.”

Once you say you’re serious, their laughter suddenly slows down and they look up at you. The irritated look on your face had confirmed that you were indeed serious. “Wait, you're for real?” One of them asked, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “A woman? Entering a horseback race?”

“You're kiddin'..” Another says. “A woman doesn't know the first thing about horseback racing. I'd be surprised if you could even work a bet.”

You move your hands from your hips to cross your arms. “They said that any gender can enter.”

Before you can open your mouth again, the slam of glass on the table startles you and the men at the table. It's the blonde man coming to stand from his stool, the legs of it scraping onto the dry wood floor. He gives a sparkly gold smile to the woman from earlier, before walking in your direction.

“Nice drink you made.” He compliments, stopping right next to you. The smell of leather and an earthy tone fill your nostrils. “Those hands of yours worked some magic, signorina.”

He beams, your eyes catching onto the golden shine of his teeth once again. It quickly fades, replaced by something colder and serious. ”If you know what's good for you, stay out of the race and stick to what you know.” He says it like he's doing you some kind of favor, offering an act of kindness even.

There's a lot you want to say to him—to curse him out, say something venomous back to him—but nothing comes out of your mouth.

A handsome man completely ruined by his nasty attitude.

“Should listen to what he said.” One of the men suggest. “Aw man, you're too cute to look upset. Come sit with us for a while. I'm sure you'll have much more fun with us than hanging around back there. C'mon, it'll be fun.”

He reaches his hand up to grab onto your wrist and you immediately snatch it away.

To say a woman doesn't know a thing about this. To tell you that you shouldn't enter the race. When you’ve been busting your ass for months trying to learn. You can feel yourself almost boiling from their doubt. With clenched fists, you leave the table and walk over towards the entrance to trail behind the man leaving.

Hopefully, the people inside would behave themselves. You may get chewed out for this later by your father, but you couldn’t care less. When you shove open the door, the soft breeze immediately hits you. Your feet drum down the steps as you catch up with him. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say?”

He’s still walking away, undeterred by your comment as he makes his way over to a horse tethered onto the hitching post, running his hand down its mane lightly.

…The Goddess of Victory herself must have been looking down on him for even having a woman this close to his horse. He looks over to you with those piercing eyes of his. “You shouldn’t get too close.”

It comes off as a warning and your breath hitches. You had half a mind to step forward anyway, but before you can ask why, he cuts you off before you can speak yet again.

“I think you’re a beautiful woman.” He admits, turning over to you fully. “It’d be a shame to see that face all bruised up in that race if you enter. Save yourself, save people their time.”

This time, you get a full view of him and his wacky outfit. No matter how handsome he may be to you, that comment really got under your skin.

His words makes you tighten your fist even more, fingers tucking themselves into the palm of your hand. “I don’t...” Yes, he had called you a beautiful woman, but you just knew the rest of his words were dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t need your advice. I don’t need a man to tell me what to do.” You sharply exhale, then point a finger to your face.

“This is a face you should remember well. You’ll remember me when you see me in the headlines. You or anyone else won’t be changing that.”

This time, you don’t even let him speak. You sharply turn on your heel and head right back into the bar.

Those men in the bar, that woman, and most importantly, him, they’ll all remember your name.

Even if you die trying.

[melrosing]

AFFC is where I believe the redemption thing loses a lot of people because Jaime is upholding the regime rather than dismantling it. But I always want to ask them dismantle it how? it's so stupid

okay but that's the thing because in a way: that is what Jaime is trying to do! pushing once again my unfinished Riverlands essay bc I am very interested in this part of his story, especially the role it plays within his redemption arc, but in wider fandom it often gets misinterpreted as a detour.... which has made for some really frustrating takes lmao.

if you will humour me for a second though I want to pose to ppl what the avenues available to Jaime actually are at this point in the story. Jaime is not Sandor Clegane: he cannot just leave everything behind and assume it'll all be fine without him.

the situation in fact: ur evil dad has just died, leaving House Lannister essentially irreconcilable with its enemies. the realm has been devastated by the war. who is in charge of it all? ur eight-year-old son, a sweet kid who could be a good king in the right hands.... but is ofc currently in the hands of Cersei, who is.... well. Stannis, the Riverlords, the vestiges of the Starks, and a bunch of forces you're not even aware of want and your family dead to a man. and you are the lord commander of the kingsguard, who would like to 1) fulfill ur oath to Catelyn, 2) protect your family, 3) not make anything worse than it already is and 4) ideally make things better! what do u fucking do?

OPTION 1: literally just leave this sucks so why not just leave! you are an eminently recognisable man and so is your son but what if you just walked out of there and let whatever forces move in in your wake. Stannis probably gets there first (you don't actually know about Dany or Aegon) and he wants you dead, but maybe if you shave ur head (wait that didn't work last time did it) and dye your son's then....??? ok sure. so now you're living in the woods, the realm may or may not fall back into chaos, ur days are pretty numbered, and this isn't even a good story, is it. cool !

OPTION 2: refuse to have anything to do with a continued war against Starks and Tullys and try and advocate for them at court oh god u really thought that would work. your dad murdered Robb and Cat Stark at a fucking wedding. they do not want to be ur friends, they want u dead. they will arm again in a heartbeat, and that's your family done for. also good luck talking Cersei round on this. or anyone really. edit bc oh and also! if you do just want to sit this one out and refuse to get involved with the siege at Riverrun - some other goon will jump in and end it violently for you. so you've basically done nothing but allow it to happen. good for you!

OPTION 3: mitigate and restore what u can your son is a nice boy who likes books and always does his best. you think that if you could surround him with the right people, he might rule well. you realise Cersei is a liability, and plan to have her removed from your son's counsel. you plan to rebuild it with better people. you realise that the realm is starved and in ruins: you want to prevent war, and you really don't want to break your oath. however, many of the riverlords and northerners are not ready to kneel. you treat with those you can, and wring a peace out of the Tullys by saying the right words in the right voice. your reputation takes a hit and readers cannot understand the chapter for shit, but Edmure Tully accepts terms of peace. you cannot restore the Starks, but you can try and save the last of them: you send your gf on a secret mission, and when she comes to tell you that you have a change to help (lol), you go with her.

THE CATCH: none of these fucking work because your dad fucked everything up so bad that everyone wants your family dead and noone wants to be your friend. even though you ended the siege at Riverrun on peaceful terms, that's only going to last about five minutes. you may be trying to save Sansa Stark right now, but god knows what's about to happen to your own kids while you're not there. you're fucked really. there's no single right thing you can do right now except follow what you believe is the best, most realistic thing to do in the moment and see where it leads. shit. that's how you ended up spending 14 years in the woods with brienne waiting to meet zombie Catelyn while Game of Thrones botches your ending and podcasters call your story the limits of redemption. fuck !

[zombiesthetic]

THOMAS HEWITT WITH A PLUS SIZE S/O . . .

pairing . . . thomas hewitt x plus size!fem reader

warnings . . . hoyt ( he needs his own warning ) , no insecurities or self doubt but mentions of having "bad days" because let's be real, we all have those days.

comments , likes , and reposts are appreciated !

★ let us be real for a moment. thomas would 100% love a woman who has some meat on her bones. someone he doesn't have to treat like fine china.

★ you have curves? he's running his hands over them.

★ you have hip dips? perfect place for him to put his hands.

★ you have nice, soft, plush thighs? it's a perfect place for him to rest his head after a long day of hunting and killing.

★ you have a soft stomach? another amazing place for him to rest his head. it's like his own personal pillow and he loves it.

★ oh. and don't ever let this man see you in a dress. your curves, your soft stomach, your wide hips, your full breasts that threaten to spill out of the top and sides, oh dear lord. it takes everything in him not to stop what he's doing, throw you over his shoulder, and take you to the basement to do ungodly things that luda mae would definitely not approve of.

★ luda mae would definitely talk to him about you having nice "birthing hips". it would confuse the hell out of him. how did she know you had nice birthing hips just by looking at them? but once that idea was planted in his head . . . it's game over.

★ he loves it when you sit in his lap. the feeling of your weight being on him makes his head go fuzzy. ad you better believe that if you don't put your full weight on him, he's tugging you down til you're fully seated.

★ he just loves you. he loves every single thing about you.

★ he loves you even when you have your bad days. you know the days where you don't feel your best? he's right by your side and in his own way, he's telling you he loves everything about you. sure, there's a huge conversation barrier, but you know what he's trying to say.

★ if hoyt even dares to make a snide comment, thomas is locked and loaded, ready to take his brother/uncle down to the basement to butcher him.

★ after a close encounter with tommy's chainsaw, hoyt never said anything again. at least not when tommy could hear him.

★ but all it takes is for you to threaten to tell tommy and hoyt is shutting his mouth. that man really doesn't want to become a victim.

★ when it comes to cuddling, tommy likes to be little spoon. nothing you say can change my mind.

★ after a long day of killing and butchering, all he wants is to lay down on top of you with his head buried in your chest while you run your hand though his dark curls.

★ he's so used to be forced to "be a man" by hoyt, he likes that he doesn't have to be a big macho man when he's with you.

★ of course, he'll put on a "i run this relationship" act in front of hoyt, but when it's just you two. man, is this boy whipped. you tell him to do something, it'll be done within the hour. and of course, it's the other way around too.

★ in the beginning you had to sit him down and tell him that relationships don't have an "owner" and a "pet" like hoyt had always told him.

★ because of hoyt's constant talk of how relationships are "supposed to be", tommy didn't really want to be in a relationship. he didn't like the idea of having to "own" someone.

★ but after you had a nice sit down conversation with him, he liked the idea of being in a 50/50 relationship. you respect and love him and he respects and loves you.

★ in reality, you had to teach tommy a lot of things. but the good thing is . . . tommy is a very fast learner. in more ways than one. *wink* *wink*

★ tommy is really good with his hands. no, not in that way. get your head out of the gutter.

★ if you liked a piece of jewelry one of the victims were wearing but it didn't fit you, tommy would craft it to fit you. you mentioned a ring you liked, but it was a few sizes too small? this man is cutting the band and making it adjustable.

★ you like a necklace but it doesn't quite fit your neck how you want it too? he's stealing a chain from another victim and adding it to the necklace so it'll fit you.

★ you liked a piece of clothing but it's too small? this man is cleaning his sewing machine and creating an entire new piece of clothing with you. ( after he has luda mae get the blood stains out because that woman is scarily good at getting blood stains out of things. )

★ his love language is acts of service and gift giving, obviously.

★ he likes doing things for you and he really loves giving you things.

★ after he's done working in the barn, during his walk back to the house, if he sees a flower that sprouted in the yard, he'll grab it and give it to you.

CREDITS . . . divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

[navybrat817]

Congrats, Miss Navy!

If Smartie had student loans, how would that celebration go after paying them?

I appreciate it, nonnie! It doesn't feel real yet. I don't think it'll feel real for me until next month. And I think Smartie would feel the same way if there were student loans and, like me, maybe a bit emotional.

"Smartie, is there a reason why you're giving your laptop the finger?" "Because I just made my last loan payment!"

You were smart, you didn't earn the nickname for no reason. But you still had to take out a bit in loans that your scholarships and grants didn't cover. Debt like that could be stressful and he knew it wore on you, even when you didn't vocalize it. You didn't have to carry that burden alone. That's was one of the reasons you had him.

"That's amazing," he says, wishing he had something better to say for such a huge milestone. Though he could help you celebrate tonight. Nice dinner. Massage. Whatever you want.

You're so excited that the laptop almost falls over when you jump up. Bucky anticipated that would happen and easily catches it before any damage can be done. And he can't help but chuckle when you pump your fists in the air. "Suck it! Eat it! Fuck it!" You yell.

It's adorable and silly and he wishes he could record the moment. To see you dancing around the room makes his smile widen. He wants you to feel like this all the time.

This woman will be the mother of my children, ladies and gentlemen.

"You know, I have something you can suck and I'm happy to eat or fuck whatever you have to offer," he smirks before you stop your cheer to face him. There are tears in your eyes and he's immediately on his feet. "I was-"

"No, I'm not upset. I'm happy," you smile as tears slide down your cheeks. "Think of what we can do with it now. We can use that money for savings. Or a trip. OOH. I should get you a gift! A new leather jacket!"

"You don't have to get me anything," he says, his heart swelling. You always considered him and his his feelings.

"Maybe I want to," you say, wiping at your face.

Like your laptop, he catches you as you launch yourself into his arms. He can hear you sniffling before you bury your face in his neck. "I'm proud of you, Smartie," he whispers, holding you tight. Not just for the loans and general hard work, but everything you do.

"Thank you, Stud," you whisper before you lift your head, your eyes still brimming with happy tears. You wait a beat before you press your lips to his and he can feel how much you love him. He loves you just the same, if not more. "Now, which first? Eat or fuck?"

He laughs before pulling you to the couch. Celebratory sex was always a good thing. "Depends on what your pussy is aching for more. My tongue or my cock."

You moan, a happy smile on your face once again. "Surprise me."

And that's exactly what he did.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[thedensworld]

Skinny Dipping | C. Hs

Genre: angst, fluff, exes au!

Summary: it'll be so nice if you and Hansol could have a little chat about both of your life, forgetting things that had hurted. Right?

Author note: i hurt myself mentally while writing this *cry cry*

Hansol is doing his routine check-up at the café he opened last month, the newest addition to his chain. He greets everyone at the counter with a friendly smile, his familiar energy filling the space before he heads toward the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asks the cook, his tone light and teasing. The cook hums in agreement, adding that it’s quickly becoming the café’s top seller.

Hansol grins—it’s someone’s favorite too, someone who used to occupy his thoughts more than he’d like to admit. He hasn’t thought about her in a while. Until now.

He approaches his barista, Seungkwan, who’s busy wiping down the counter. “How’s everything going?” Hansol asks casually.

Seungkwan lets out an exaggerated groan, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s been chaos since lunch. I swear, I’ve barely had a minute to sit down.”

Hansol chuckles, reaching for an apron. “Let me jump in and help.”

Seungkwan glances at him with a raised brow. “Finished all your other work already? You know, the important boss stuff?”

Hansol nods, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here—besides, I’ve got a meeting with a client at four, so I’ve got time.”

He moves behind the counter just as the system dings with a new order. Hansol instinctively grabs the ticket, scanning it. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...”

His voice falters, his heart stuttering when he reads the name on the receipt. He blinks, staring at it as if it’s mocking him. It’s a name he knows all too well, a name that sends a flood of memories rushing back to him all at once.

“For Y/N.”

His head snaps up, scanning the café as if to confirm it’s really happening. And there you are, sitting at a table near the window, looking up from your phone just as your name is called. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him, the same recognition flashing across your face.

It’s been years, but it feels like no time at all. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. Hansol’s heart races as his thoughts spiral—out of all the cafés in the city, you’ve walked into his. Fate had a funny way of playing games, didn’t it?

You slowly stand, making your way to the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. “Hi...” you greet softly, your voice like a distant echo of the past.

Hansol hadn’t expected you to speak first. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool despite the way his chest tightens. “Hey... nice to see you here,” he replies, though his voice betrays the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He forces a smile, but it’s impossible to ignore the awkwardness hovering between you.

“How have you been? Do you... work here?” you ask, your gaze flicking to the café, and then back to him.

Before you can reach for your order, Hansol swiftly pulls the tray toward him. “I’ll bring it to your table,” he says, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Please, sit.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his insistence, but you offer a small nod before returning to your seat. Hansol busies himself with preparing your latte, though his hands feel unsteady, the sudden rush of old feelings catching him off guard. He carries the tray to your table and sets your order down carefully, just like he used to when you’d meet him after class back in college.

You mumble a quiet “thank you,” already refocusing on your laptop, just like the old days. The sight of you so focused and serene tugs at something deep within him.

“Working from here?” Hansol asks, lingering by your table, unable to walk away just yet.

You nod, glancing up. “Yeah, just finishing up some papers before class… at four.”

Hansol bites his lip, trying to find his footing in this strange but familiar reunion. “I’m doing great, by the way. You asked,” he says with a small smile, gesturing around the café. “Just opened this place last month.”

Your eyes wander around, taking in the cozy space, the warm light filtering through the windows. “It’s really nice,” you reply with a genuine smile, a hint of admiration in your voice. “Congratulations.”

Hansol feels his heart flutter at your smile—one he had missed more than he’d realized. You glance at the seat across from you and, after a beat, gesture to it. “Do you want to sit?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding into the chair across from you, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickens.

“How have you been? And Mingyu? Last I heard he moved…” Hansol’s voice trails off, leaving space for you to fill in the details.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve been good. Just busy with work and school. Mingyu? He’s married now, actually. Living in Hawaii with his family.”

Hansol’s eyes widen at the mention of your brother. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Married and in Hawaii... I always figured he’d end up somewhere sunny and laid back.”

You smile fondly at the memory of your brother. “Yeah, he’s always been like that.”

The conversation flows easily, as if the years hadn’t separated you at all. You talk about the little things—work, school, mutual friends—and for a brief moment, it’s like no time has passed. But there’s still something lingering between you, unspoken yet unmistakably present.

Just as you’re settling into the rhythm of catching up, Seungkwan calls out from behind the counter. “Boss… you’re needed!”

Hansol glances back, sighing softly. “Duty calls,” he mutters, standing from the table.

You gather your things as well, closing your laptop. “Yeah, I should get going too. I’ve got class soon.”

For a moment, there’s an awkward pause, like neither of you wants to let go of this unexpected reunion. Hansol hesitates, then glances back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “It was really nice meeting you again. We should do this again. On purpose, sometimes.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time in years, there’s a spark—small but unmistakable. “Sure,” you reply softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

Hansol feels a surge of excitement rush through him, and he can’t help but smile back. With a quick goodbye, he heads back to the counter, his heart still pounding in his chest. But even as he walks away, there’s a warmth blooming inside him, a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end of your story.

As he ties his apron back on, he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. After all these years, fate had brought you back into his life. And Hansol couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning.

*

You stepped into the garage-turned-studio, the familiar hum of instruments that usually calmed you now replaced by an unnerving silence. The tension in the air was palpable. Hansol stood there, his bass hanging loosely from his hands, while Chan hovered near his drum kit, avoiding eye contact. The moment you walked in, all eyes shifted to you, and you immediately knew—you’d come at the worst possible time.

“Let’s call it a day,” Seungcheol, the band’s guitarist and leader, muttered under his breath. He put his guitar down gently, though the gesture felt heavy with finality. Without a word, the rest of the band followed suit, leaving the studio one by one. You watched as they filed out, and your stomach twisted when you realized you and Hansol were now alone.

You had come here to release some of your own stress—an exhausting day of exams had left you drained, and you had hoped Hansol might distract you. But as soon as you met his eyes, dark with frustration, you knew something was terribly wrong.

“Did you say something to Chan about me leaving the band?” Hansol asked, his voice low but sharp, every word cutting through the silence. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting to you with a mix of disbelief and anger.

You froze, caught off guard by the accusation. “What? No, I didn’t—” you started, but then paused, a sinking feeling creeping into your chest as you remembered. “Wait, I... I did mention to Jinah that you might have to leave the music scene eventually... you know, because of the family business and all. But it wasn’t serious, Hansol. I didn’t think it would turn into... this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his lips curling into something more pained than amused. “Well, it did. It’s not just some hobby, Y/N. Music is everything to me. It’s how I breathe, how I escape... And now they think I’m bailing. They’re replacing me.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Replacing you? Without even talking to you first?”

Hansol ripped the jack from his bass, the sound jarring in the tense space. He threw it to the ground, the clatter echoing through the empty studio. “Yeah, because they heard I was leaving—from a certain someone.”

His words felt like a slap, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’re blaming me?” Your voice shook, a mixture of hurt and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “All I did was make an offhand comment. You’re not actually leaving the band, Hansol. Just tell them that, and this will blow over.”

But Hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped closer, his jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple. You don’t get it. They’ve already made up their minds. They’ve moved on. I’ve been replaced, and it’s because of you.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his words hit you. “Hansol, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I was just—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “This is what you always do. You think you know what’s best for me, that you can speak for me, but you don’t know shit. You’ve never understood what music means to me. You only care about my studies, my future in the family business. That’s what matters to you, right?”

His words pierced through you, the sting of them so deep that you struggled to breathe. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I care about you. I’ve always supported you.”

Hansol laughed, but there was no joy in it—just bitterness. “Supported me? All you’ve ever done is try to push me into the future you want for me. You’ve never believed in my music. You’ve never believed in me.”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Hansol, that’s not true. I—”

“Spare me,” he snapped, his voice hard. “You don’t get it. They’ve already replaced me. I’m out. And it’s all because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Because you had to go running off to Jinah, acting like you know everything about me.”

Tears burned your eyes now, and this time you couldn’t stop them from falling. “Hansol, I didn’t mean to cause this,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I just... I didn’t think it would get this far.”

“Well, it did,” he shot back, his eyes cold. “And now I’ve lost everything. The band was all I had, and now I’m nothing. Thanks to you.”

Your breath hitched, your hands trembling as you wiped at your eyes, but it was no use. His words cut too deep, tearing through everything you thought you understood about your relationship. “You’re really blaming me for all of this?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You think this is my fault?”

Hansol stepped closer, his face hard and unyielding. “Yeah, I do. Because you always think you can fix everything, like you’re in control. But you’re not. And now I’m paying the price.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, the boy you once knew now feeling like a stranger. His words had shattered something inside you, and the pain was almost unbearable. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

But Hansol just turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” he muttered. “All I know is I’m done. Done with the band, done with everything...”

His voice trailed off, and you felt the last thread of hope between you unravel. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold yourself together, but it was no use. “Go fuck yourself, Hansol,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the hurt and anger you’d been holding back.

And then you turned and walked out of the studio, the door slamming shut behind you. But even as you left, the ache of his words stayed with you, cutting deeper than any argument you’d ever had. The boy who once felt like your world was now a stranger, and you weren’t sure if you could ever find your way back to him.

*

Hansol was doing his routine check-up at the café he had opened last month. He greeted everyone at the counter with his usual friendly smile before making his way to the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asked the cook. They hummed in agreement, mentioning that it was quickly becoming everyone’s favorite.

Hansol grinned—it had always been someone’s favorite too, someone he hadn’t thought about in a while.

He approached his barista, Seungkwan, and asked, “How are things going?”

“It’s been chaotic since lunch. I swear, I just want to sit down,” Seungkwan groaned dramatically, wiping his forehead.

Hansol chuckled, grabbing an extra apron. “I’ll jump in and help.”

“Finished all your work?” Seungkwan asked, referring to Hansol’s duties managing his chain of cafés. Opening one in such a busy area had been a smart move, and Hansol knew it.

“Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here,” Hansol replied, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with a client at four.”

Just then, an order popped up on the screen. Hansol moved behind the counter to take a look. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...” His voice trailed off, and his heart skipped a beat. He stared at the name on the receipt, feeling a rush of memories flooding back.

It was a familiar name. The perfect order.

“For Y/N.”

His gaze lifted from the screen to the café, and there you were, looking up from your phone toward the counter. Your eyes widened slightly in recognition, and Hansol’s mind raced—of all the cafés in this city, you had walked into his.

You stood from your table and slowly approached the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. Hansol felt frozen, unsure of what to say or how to act. Years had passed, but in that moment, it felt like no time had gone by at all.

“Thanks,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact as you took your order from the counter.

Hansol’s chest tightened as he watched you walk back to your table, quickly gathering your things. You were already clearing your desk before he could muster the courage to say anything more. The moment had slipped through his fingers, just like that.

As you walked out of the café, Hansol’s heart sank. There had been so much left unsaid, so many things he wanted to ask, but now, all he could do was watch as the door closed behind you.

The weight of lost time and missed chances hung in the air, and as he stood behind the counter, Hansol couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter had reopened old wounds—wounds he had thought had healed long ago. But seeing you again, even for just a fleeting moment, reminded him that some things could never be forgotten. Some people left marks too deep to erase.

We've been swimming on the edge of a cliff

I'm resistant, but going down with the ship

It'd be so nice, right? Right?

If we could take it all off and just exist

And skinny dip in water under the bridge

Skinny Dipping - Sabrina Carpenter

[mayababes19]

JJK MEN BUTLER AU!! PART 2

♡ Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso, Sukuna

♡ AFAB!Reader!

♡ Summary: You took your butler shopping

-------------------------------------------------------

Gojo - Gojo will personally pick out the clothes. He would dress you up in the goofiest outfits just to pick a nice casual skirt and blouse at the end of all his fun. Once you're done shopping for clothes, he's dragging you to the makeup and jewelry store.

"Gojo, I don't need all this stuff." It was too late though, he already bought 3 sets of makeup and a few pieces of jewelry from Pandora for his pretty girl.

Nanami - Being the butler he is, he wasted no time to bring the car around the front and drive you to the mall. Even if he's annoyed walking around holding multiple bags, he'll try his best to help you out and give suggestions.

"Nanami, 1 or 2?" Nanami stared at you as if you were the only one in the room. "2. The royal blue dress would look nice on you. I suggest trying silver jewelry instead of gold. It'll compliment your skin tone."

Geto - Your worst mistake was taking Geto to a lingerie store. Although he's trying to "help" in reality he's picking the most revealing sets. As you model for him he's taking pictures as if you're posing for Instagram.

"Bend over and turn a bit." Geto turned this shopping trip into a whole photoshoot and he's loving every minute of it. He even saved on picture of you as his lockscreen.

Toji - The only reason he agreed is to watch you model for him. Toji would choose outfits that would highlight your curves. When he noticed other guys staring, Toji would glare daggers at them until he looked away. Knowing Toji and how protective and possessive he gets he'll wrap his arms around your waist - pulling you close to him while you browse through the racks of clothing.

"Toji, is something wrong?" Toji let out an annoyed hum. "Nothing. Just let me hold you for a minute, okay doll?"

Choso - Choso doesn't care about the multiple bags or all the walking. Any chance he gets he's complimenting you in every outfit you try on. After a while of shopping you bought matching onesies. He got a stitch onesie and you have an angel onesie but somehow, you two ended up at build-a-bear.

"Choso, which one are you getting?" He shook his head, "I don't want one, let me make one for you as a gift."

Sukuna - No. He wouldn't even give you the chance to fully ask. Sukuna hates going to the mall with you because, in his opinion, everything is pointless.

[galaxyfoxes]

Know this that I am laughing as I write this. Platonic yandere besties Jinshi x reader. Reader is older than him she love to watch him suffer with his own feelings on maomao teasing him and totally not giving him fake advice half the time while the other time actually giving him good advice of the female perspective while sipping of her tea and eating the snacks. While also not realizing how much of a platonic yandere he is for her.

This is hilarious! Thank you for requesting this!

Tw: clingy behavior, mentions of guilt tripping, typical yandere behavior

A/n: I've only watched the anime btw

You and Jinshi have been friends for years, and he tells you practically everything that happens within the inner palace, especially the drama between the Consorts. However, something interesting was being brought up, a certain apothecary girl named maomao.

While you knew he charmed many people, he never got attached to any of them, so you were supportive of him finding someone. Especially if they make him flustered.

However, you also secretly hoped it'll get him off your back for a little while since he has the tendency to be very clingy towards you.

In the past, whenever you voiced your concern about him being too clingy. You were met with immediate guilt tripping or him conveniently 'forgetting' the conversation. And since he is much higher ranked than you, it's not like you can really say no to him.

While you can see some of his more light yandere tendencies, most of them are completely hidden from you as he greatly values how you see him. And you usually write the clingy behavior off as him being weird.

He feels extreme jealousy whenever you talk about other people too much. ESPECIALLY if you consider them a friend. You rarely tell him about these people as they are always fired or gone missing under 'mysterious' circumstances.

For a little while, he was too busy spending time with maomao to visit you. While you missed him, it was nice to have a break for once, even if it's short-lived.

After a particularly long time apart, Jinshi insisted you two have tea as he wanted to ask for advice on something. He wanted to know what he could do to win over maomao.

You were confused as women would kill to have a chance with him and that he wouldn't have to try. but you gave some basic advice on how common people flirt and Jinshi listened diligently. After you were you were done giving advice, Jinshi would go back to talking about other topics with you.

you hoestly expected that he'll leave you alone and focus on maomao. But to your surprise, he quickly goes back to his old behavior.

Eventually, he brings maomao to one of your meetups, and you could tell she wasn't an ordinary girl or all that interested in Jinshi. This gave you an idea to play with Jinshi a little.

You started to give him odd ideas on how to get maomao to like him when they obviously wouldn't. One idea was that Jinshi could give maomao a necklace that had a rather odd pendant, and that would get her to like him.

At first, you thought Jinshi wouldn't listen to you because your ideas sounded rather stupid. But to your surprise, Jinshi listened to every one of them though he did pout and whined to you when they obviously didn't work.

The thing is, you always mixed in good advice with the idiotic advice so Jinshi wouldn't fully dismiss your advice.

maomao may even confront you for the bad advice you have been giving Jinshi and get you to stop.

In all honesty, Jinshi is a rather tame platonic yandere that you can trick and fun with without any form of punishment.

[melikedraw]

stumbled across ur blog n omg im in love literally went thru all ur stuff today n last night u r feeding the people

would love to hear ur thoughts on christmas with gaolang and ohma and any of ur faves!!! feeling very christmasy rn

Christmas with the kengan boys🎄🎄

Various kengan men x gn! Reader

(gaolang, ohma, Jose, himuro, saw paing)

~~~~~

Gaolang:

- he doesn't typically celebrate Christmas, I'm also pretty sure 25 dec is still a working day in Thailand (don't @ me I got this from Google)

- HowEVER he will take the day off to celebrate it with you because you always come first

- if you celebrate with your family, he would take that chance to make a good impression on your parents (they will love him, he's just perfect like that)

- he would even make a dish to bring to your parents house

- if you celebrate alone, he'll cook up a feast for you

- may not have much of the typical Christmas meals but there will be many homely, warm, comforting traditional Thai dishes

- he'll even practice making dishes from your home country

- would appreciate it if you join him in the kitchen, even if you can't cook

- he just loves your presence

Ohma:

- what's Christmas? (KIDDING) (or am I)

- has never celebrated Christmas before meeting you, probably thought it was a myth at some point

- but once he heard about the Christmas turkey or whatever y'all eat for Christmas, he was READY

- literally just comes to your house and goes "food where?"

- he also expects you to have a present for him

- he'll get one for you too, of course. Probably something he found on the ground that reminded him of you

- that said, he doesn't really get the big whoop around Christmas

- all he wants is to be wrapped up in your blanket with you in his arms as he sleeps through the cold day

- tries to fight mall Santa

Jose:

- the Boyfriend Ever™

- wants to make everything as perfect a Christmas as possible

- wakes up early to make you a nice breakfast and brings you out the whole day

- he'll get you whatever you want too, gifts and all

- probably wants it to be a day of just the two of you though if you usually celebrate with your family, he expects you to bring him along (he wants to make a good impression on your parents)

- candle lit dinner is a MUST. His own home cooked dinner of course. He'll turn off all the lights in your shared house, light a few candles he found laying around in the store room, set a plate heaped with his meals made with love and pour you a glass of wine (or whatever drink you like. It'll still be in a wine glass though, for the vibe)

- wants to end the day early so that you two have time to cuddle, maybe watch a few cringey Christmas movies

- he loves it if you fall asleep in his arms, trust me, he told me himself

Himuro:

- yikes, with all the girlfriends he has, you might not even have the day with him

- okay, let's assume he stops playing around after meeting you

- he'll bring you out shopping, spoiling you with whatever you want to get

- then, he'll take you to a fancy restaurant, typical date style since he's not the type to make home cooked meals imo

- will be extra sweet to you (he is always a dear, but he's seriously EXTRA charming today)

- probably takes you to places with a bunch of Christmas decorations set up or a big Christmas tree so that y'all can take photos together for him to flex on the three other idiots (lihito, okubo, kaneda)

- he hopes to end the day with you in his bed/ him in yours

Saw paing:

- he is SO excited

- weeks before Christmas itself he'll be talking about how much he wishes to spend it with you

- he is a yappatron 3000 so be ready to have your ears talked off about what he plans to do for you

- unlike all the others who would celebrate Christmas with your family, Saw paing will fly you (and your family if you request it be done) to his home village and celebrate there

- you're saws s/o, which means you're now family to the entire village. The kids will call you big sis, the adults will treat you as if you and saw were already married

- you'll probably have a lot of "when will we have our grandkids/nephews/whatever" questions asked, but other than that, it's a really chill, homely experience

- however, a downside to this is that you and saw never get time alone

- if you're in saw's rooms, don't be surprised if someone just barges in, because that's how siblings be

- even giving him a kiss will get you stares from the grandma across the room or something and a giggle from a gossipy aunty (good luck, you'll need it)

[pomegranate-fawn]

Cater x Reader

'#Sleepover'

Notes: Notes: Yuu is gender neutral and as such they/them pronouns are used, not beta read, fluff, slight angst, slightly ooc. I've had this particular fanfic idea since like...2023, yeah. I always second guess myself when it comes to writing. Actually, one of my professors once said a writer prefers to think about the act of writing instead of performing it. I think he was right, it's far more indulgent to think about everything I want to write instead of doing it. But here I am, over two years later and actually writing this fic idea. Recently, I've mainly been writing in first person for what is now a scrapped original project, so it was a little bit stiff to write in third person again, I hope you can forgive me for any awkward wording. But I really enjoyed writing this, I really wanna finish this series by the end of the year, I think if I try to do at least one or two fics a week then it'll somehow work out!

Twst x reader masterpost

Wc: 1,511

Due to being friends with Ace and Deuce, Yuu often found themselves at Heartslabyul, even being given special permission from Riddle on occasion to spend the night. Yes, that meant usually crashing on the couch of the common area of the dorm, but compared to the dump that Ramshackle was, it was like staying at a luxury resort. Not to mention the fact that Trey would often manage to save at least one or two homemade snacks for Yuu to indulge in. 

As Heartslabyul was the most crammed dorm at the school, the best place to rest was always one of the couches, but one day, as you were fluffing up the stiff pillow you always borrowed from Deuce, the prefect heard a soft pair of footsteps approaching them. As they turned to face whoever was approaching, they were met with none other than Cater, already dressed in his pj’s just as Yuu was.

Though unlike the blank black t-shirt and sweats that the Ramshackle dorm leader was wearing, Cater was far more dressed up. Not only did he wear a shirt of the same weird character that was on his phone case, but he also wore a cozy cardigan, it looked so soft. Even softer than Grim, it was incredibly tempting to just reach over and pet the soft fabric as if it was a cute animal. Lastly, he wore a pair of lounge pants that matched his shirt and a pair of equally fluffy slippers. 

“Hey, prefect! I heard from one of the freshies that you sleep out here…How long has this been going on for?” “I don’t do it every night…only once a month.” “Yikes…That’s still once a month too many. Sleeping on the couch is like, so not good for your long term health. Is there something wrong with your dorm?” “I mean…it’s not the best…” “I mean, obviously. But I mean…did something else happen? Omg are the ghosts bothering you? I could totally get them to back off-”

“Cater, I just…like the change of scenery. Riddle said I could spend the night on occasion as long as I’m quiet.”

While Yuu had expected this to be the end of the conversation, Cater merely continued to stare at the dorm leader, his expression unreadable for once. Cater was always so bubbly or mischievous, the only time Yuu can remember seeing him upset was after Riddle had overblotted, though that look was far more worried than angry or dull. But right now it’s impossible to consider what he’s thinking. But after what feels like an eternity, he smiles softly, almost sympathetically, and holds out his hand. “I get that, a change of scenery can be nice…But my point still stands. Sleeping on the couch is not a good look. I get that we’re cramped but we can’t be treating a visitor like this! So you’re coming to my room.” “...Huh?” “It’ll be like a sleepover! I haven’t done one of those in forever! I mean we can’t have any fun snacks since rule #79 says you can’t eat any snacks after 9 pm on a Thursday…Isn’t that such a freaky rule?”

“I…How does that even become a rule?”

“Who knows? But come on! Let’s have a sleepover!” Without giving the prefect much of an option, Cater revoked his hand as he took a hold of the firm pillow and the thin blanket that Yuu had brought, tucking them both under his hands with a grin and walking off towards the hallway. It was either follow him or sleep without any amenities…as a result, the prefect followed the ginger out of the common area.

Cater’s room was the same size as the rooms the Freshman slept in, the big difference was that this room belongs only to him, he didn’t have to share it with multiple or even one roommate. Due to the space being his own dedicated room, it was not only far more spacious than the dorm rooms normally were, but it was also decorated exactly to Cater’s tastes. It was adorable and trendy, as if it came right out of some influencers video. Of course, considering that Cater was always posting on magicam and trying to make it big as an influencer, it made sense that his room looked so carefully curated. 

His bed was also huge, it looked far more comfortable than the couch, and even better than the nearly broken old mattress Yuu was forced to sleep on at Ramshackle. It looked like a normal, proper bed. Much like the bed they used back home…the thought immediately brought a frown to their face, though they managed to shove aside nostalgic musings of the past as Cater turned back around. “You’re okay sharing a bed, right? I mean it's really spacious! Like we won’t be squished so I don’t think it’s a big deal!” “I mean…it can’t be worse than sharing a bed with Grim.” “O M G! Do not compare me to your freaky cat!”

Regardless of the previously somber mood that Yuu was in, Cater’s dramatic reaction pulled the softest laugh from their lips. Once more, Cater merely stared at the noise, only to smile again, the same sad smile he held right before suggesting the sleepover. He approached, once more holding out his hand to Yuu, though this time they accepted it. He gently rubbed his thumb over the top of the smooth skin as he escorted the prefect towards his vanity, their grasp on each other breaking as Cater placed both hands onto their shoulders, easing them to sit down at one of the two chairs at the vanity.

He took a seat next to them, looking slightly anxious before he grabbed a plush headband and slipped it on, helping to keep some of his hair out of his face before he held out a similar plush one to Yuu.

“I was thinking…Before we get some sleep we need to do our skincare! Do you do any normally?” “Aside from sunscreen…no. But don’t tell Vil that.” “I would never sell you out like that. I’m not a snitch.” He teased lightly before leaning forward, helping to put the headband onto the prefect pushing back their hair and keeping it secure. His hands then rested on their face, one hand on their cheek and the other on their forehead.

“...Ah, you have dry skin. Not like painfully so but that’s your skin type. Look, there’s like barely any oil on you…I have combination type, that’s like the worst. I’m always oily and I get pimples so easily!” “You do?” “Yeah, why else would I be so serious about my routine?” “Heh…Sorry, I guess I just thought…you know…You didn’t get that kind of stuff.” “I’m not flawless like some people at this school…I just…work hard to appear that way!”

“You pull it off well…But it’s okay to slow down a bit from time to time.”

“...You should be telling that to yourself. You deserve a break far more than I ever will…I do have some products that should work for you, I just need to look for a moment.” Just as Cater began to dig through some of the products on the vanity, Yuu’s hand gently grabbed at the sleeve of his cardigan, causing the ginger to pause as his eyes locked with the prefects. “...We could both use a break. You don’t need to put yourself down in order to lift me up, I don’t want you doing that.” “...You wanted a change of space. It’s cause…you miss home, right?”

“...Of course I do…I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone. I just woke up here.”

Slowly, his hand gently cupped one of their cheeks, his sad smile returning.

“...You deserve to rest, I don’t…If I was in your position…I don’t think I’d miss home. I dread going back, but you can’t return…It’s not fair. I mean the headmage uses you like his personal secretary, it’s not fair…” “Cater…I’m okay, really…I mean of course I get homesick, but…having friends like you and Ace and Deuce…even Grim, it really helps. I guess what really upsets me is…I don’t know if I’ll wake up one day and then I’ll be back home. That’s what really scares me, not being able to say goodbye again…” “...That won’t happen. I can just…I can sense it. You’ll be able to go home but it won’t just be sudden.” “...Maybe you could come with me?” The thought is impulsive, it comes out before Yuu can even realize what they’re saying. Cater’s face looks surprised at the suggestion and then…he laughs, his face lighting up before he leaned forward and pulled the prefect into a warm embrace.

“Yeah, I’d love that…I’ll go with you once we figure out a way to get you home.” “...You’ll lose all your magicam followers most likely…” “Oh yeah…Does your world have social media?” “Yeah, a ton of them.” “Then I’ll manage.” His grip on Yuu tightened slightly and yet it was the most warm and comforting hug they had experienced in who knows how long.

[dogcircle-scans]

I'm really curious to know if you have officially dropped the manga. If so (and even if not obvs), I'd just like to thank you for so many amazing years of awesome translations. This manga may not be very popular in the west but I'm glad you kept bringing it for so many of us

Hey, sorry for just now seeing this even though this question was sent back in late November.

No, we haven't officially dropped the manga, and Idk if any group has picked up the series while I was gone. Emphasis on the "I" because our absence was not a consenting choice made by anyone else in this group. So if anyone harbors any kind of resentment, then do not direct it towards anyone but me. If we ever decide to officially drop the series, I'll make an official announcement on this blog. To be honest, I wasn't really gonna make much hubbub about a comeback and just post a chapter as if no time had passed. But, because I got this question and you were very nice about it. I'll give some insight.

- 🦙

The only reason I'm an active part of this fandom (any fandom now really) despite it being against my lurker nature and excessive anxiety issues is because I was encouraged to do so by a friend. If you know me from Discord, then you probably know that aside from running this blog, I'm leader of the scan group and owner of its server, I'm even an admin for the Natsume fan server which is its own separate thing.

I don't know if that sounds already sounds overwhelming, but just to scare you, I also proofread the scripts so the dialogue sounds natural and act as quality checker for each chapter. This means cleaning/redrawing sections of pages if the CLDR forgot or didn't meet the standard of quality I'm looking for. Similar with typesetting, I'll rearrange the text if I feel it could be done better. I'm also the main SFX person. When it comes to the scan server, outside of running and maintaining it, I also act as mod to make sure people aren't posting anything inappropriate or inoffensive + setting up bots and permissions.

When I was in High School and even during my early years of college, I could manage it cause I had the support and energy for it. Plus, my love for Natsume was scary intense. So when life got hard, I found that working on scans acted as a lifeline.

Then I had a messy fallout with the friend who prompted all of this, and things shifted. It didn't help that things in my personal life got really bad and more or less stayed that way for 2/3 years. And because of the association, and the guilt of falling behind, working on Natsume was no longer a stress-relieving activity. It became the source of my stress. I ran away because I was scared and overwhelmed. It wasn't healthy and it only made things worse, honestly.

But, I've been really hard on myself over this past year, and I finally reached the point of wanting to come back, but the guilt from being a deadbeat was still eating me alive. Then I got really sick at the start of this month, and I'm no lie, I'm still sick... but that gave me a lot of time to think and reevaluate all kinds of things. Because honestly? I miss working on scans and the collaborative aspect that I fell in love with because of Natsume.

And literally just this past Saturday/Sunday night, I sent a message to the group, apologizing for what I did and provided a similar explanation of why I did what I did. I trying it as just an explanation and not an excuse - I hope I was able to do that here too.

I told my group to give me several days before I actually start working on scans again, though, because it'll allow me to catch up with everything and figure out what needs to be done next, and it'll also give me more time to recover.

Thank you once again for being kind and understanding! I really appreciate it 🥹💚

[loonyloopylupin96]

Prompt: Snow | @moonwater-microfic | Words: 839

As they broke apart from a fleeting hug, Remus felt a warmth inside him that really had nothing to do with the many layers he was wearing. He felt so loved, so enraptured, so- taken aback by the sudden look of disgust on Regulus' face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, brow furrowing as a dozen fears circled through his mind - each more worrisome than the last.

"You've got-" Regulus appeared to pause, and cleared his throat. "Dandruff."

He felt his eyes widen in response. Needless to say, that hadn't made it onto Remus' list of things to worry about. Heck, he'd washed his hair that very morning.

Remus removed a glove from his hand, and ran his fingers through his hair. When he surveyed his palm, his skin was damp and glistening.

"That's just snow," he said with a small laugh, fixing his gaze back on Regulus.

Regulus' expression remained uncertain. "Snow?"

"Yeah…" he replied slowly, "The white stuff that falls from the sky-"

"I know what snow is," he grumbled, frowning petulantly. Regulus hated being made to feel like a fool, but Remus hadn't been able to help himself.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked in return, no longer laughing. The trace of a smile still adorned his face, but it had given way to a look of intrigue. "Have you seen it before?"

Regulus paused, and Remus suspected he was waiting to figure out if Remus was making fun of him again, before he shook his head. "I mean, I've seen it on the ground after waking up. Or when it's turned to ice. But never… nothing like- Hey, what are you doing?" He was distracted by Remus suddenly grasping his hand and pulling him in the direction of the main entrance. "Remus, stop. Get off me, someone's going to see-"

Remus obliged, letting go of his hand once he was sure Regulus was still following him at pace, and the pair stopped only once they were both outside. A fresh layer of snow coated the ground, where students had walked only minutes before - a testament to how fast the snow was falling.

Looking out, Regulus couldn't see too far in front of him for the snow was coming down so suddenly, and yet he couldn't really feel it hitting him though he was sure it must be. Everything around him, except for the whomping willow which stood out in quite a contrast, was sheathed in white.

Remus, who would have been appreciating the snow too on just about any other occasion, watched the wonder and awe on Regulus' face; his heart leapt at the gentle 'O' Regulus' lips made as he looked about him in surprise.

"It's marvellous," he said, quietly, though Remus heard him quite clearly.

"It's-" but whatever else it was, Regulus didn't get to find out. A ball of snow had hit Remus squarely in the face.

"Gotcha!" a familiar voice cheered, followed by Sirius' unmistakable cry of 'nice one, James'.

"I guess I should be going," Regulus said, watching as his brother and James shared a high five before bending over to collect more snow.

"Don't be daft," Remus disputed, once he was done shaking the snow off himself. "Here-" he threw what little snow he'd managed to collect, at Regulus. "You've got to be on my team - you can't leave me now! Come on. Your brother won't know what hit him."

"Well,  I suspect it'll be snow-" Regulus disputed dryly, but he allowed himself to be led away from the main door and into the midst of what appeared to be a very intense snowball fight.

Two hours later, they, along with the other students who'd been involved, were laughing as they made their way back towards the castle. Regulus' hair, soaked, clung to the sides of his face and his hands were pink with cold. His wet gloves sat defeated in one of Remus' pockets.

"So, your first snowfall - and snowball fight - at Hogwarts. Did you have fun?" Remus asked him kindly.

"I did," he agreed, drawing to a stop once the castle doors came into view. "Thank you," he said, leaning towards Remus. Their cold lips met, though not before they'd both shivered as cold noses met flushed cheeks.

As they pulled away, Regulus gaze fell upon something over Remus' shoulder.

"What's-" But he didn't get to ask. A ball of snow hit Remus squarely on the back of the head.

"And that," Sirius' approaching voice proclaimed as he threw an arm over Remus and Regulus' respective shoulders and began walking them forwards, "Is for defiling my brother where I can see."

"I'll be sure to take him into an empty classroom next time," Remus retorted under his breath.

Sirius', who apparently chose now to hear Remus mumbling to himself clearly, looked positively scandalised. It was mirrored by Regulus' look of horror.

Needless to say, Remus could expect to be reprimanded by both brothers before the day was out.

At least they'd had a memorable day.

[biscuitsandwires]

In which Danny wakes up in a weird place.... again. (pt. 4)

(pt 1 here) | (pt 2 here) | (pt 3 here)

The first thing Danny really clocked about this Damian guy, was the fact that he was very serious.

He watched as Danny came down to the ground, seemingly unsurprised that Danny was flying at all, and strode up to stand in front of him before crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sure you have several questions." Damian said, no beating around the bush with this guy.

"I mean, I woke up in a random mansion with a nice butler dude giving me breakfast and I don't remember how or why I'm here like, at all. So yeah, "several" isn't really cutting it."

Call him a smartass, but he was having a weird day, he'd earned it.

"Well, I will answer them as best as I can, Fenton. But you need to understand first and foremost that you cannot go home for a while."

That was... maybe the wrong thing to say to a halfa that could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Damian seemed to realize that though, somehow, and gave him a smirk.

"Sure, you can leave whenever you like. But you'll die if you do."

That was more ominous than it had any right to be, really, but Danny was ready to listen. "Alright, lay it on me."

Damian nodded, staring at him for a brief moment before turning around and marching away. "Come with me, it'll be easier to explain with visuals."

Danny snorted, but followed along, trying to keep up with Damian's brisk pace but eventually just floating after a while to keep up. Once they'd gotten to the massive set of computers in the room, the screens bigger than a theater showing, Damian sat in the chair and started typing.

Danny watched him, but after a moment, glanced up at the closest screen. What he saw made his hands clench at their sides, his heart stopping in his chest. It couldn't be...

"This is where I found you. You were lucky I made it there before any more damage was done."

It was the school gymnasium at Gotham Central, where his own school often sent their school trip students. It was blown to pieces, rubble everywhere, what looked distressingly like blood in a few places but he hoped, god he hoped it was just oil or something.

There were no signs of bodies, or anyone hurt, but that didn't mean anything. Not when there was this much damage. Hell, even anyone nearby would have gotten hurt from that.

"It was a direct attack. They did not care who they hurt, as long as they got to you."

Danny blinked, taking in the pure destruction of the place, but felt pure confusion washing over him.

He didn't remember going on a trip to Gotham. Didn't remember much past... What was the last thing he remembered?

The longer he stood there, trying to think about it, the more his head started to hurt.

"Don't injure yourself, Fenton. I'll explain everything, but you have to trust me." Damian said, simple and to the point, but with authority.

Danny stared back at him, trying to think past the fog that was building, and nodded. "Alright. I'll trust you."

For now, at least. It wouldn't be the first time somebody tried to pull a fast one and he'd gotten hurt.

He wasn't going to let it happen again.

Damian turned back to the computer, typing up more things on more screens, and Danny could only stand there, bracing himself for the ride.