#maybe next year ill actually be able to finish the challenge

[cecililiess]

Heyyyy look! It's the remaining of my Inktobertale doodles that I never posted last month cause I burned out halfway through the challenge!!!!🫣🫣🫣

Inktobertale challenge and Ink belong to Comyet Cross belongs to Jakei Paperjam belongs to 7goodangel Gradient belongs to askcomboclub Palette belongs to lasseutblogo

[rainglade]

Recently, I completed two of my loftiest New Year's resolutions ever, and the best part is that I'm ahead of schedule ~

Around two years ago, on the 19th of March in 2021, I created two resolutions. I like having resolution-making as a tradition I complete on my birthday, because if you think about it, "January 1st" is just a arbitrary spot in Earth's revolution around the sun that doesn't really hold a lot of salience to anyone in particular (except maybe Julius Caesar, may he rest in pieces). My birthday, though, is the (approximate) spot around the sun where my body finished its creation around 21 revolutions ago. Thus, it is an actual auspicious time for me in specific, but I digress.

On that day, I made two resolutions, ones that I planned to complete over the next several revolutions, or years- I gave myself extra leeway since I knew the future would not be predictable. The two resolutions were this: absolve my mind of irrational fears, and absolve my mind of unwarranted culinary limitations.

I wouldn't say that one resolution was more difficult than the other. I found them both challenging, albeit in different ways. The first was self-explanatory, I didn't want to feel limited by irrational fears, and I made the choice to tackle the easier ones first. Spiders, insects, roaches, horses, roller coasters, electrocution, not being able to pull myself up if I was stuck on a cliff, fear of heights, etc. Some were, of course, easier to work through than others, but eventually I worked myself through all of them. Some fears, like heights or electrocution, have a rational side to them, so I made sure to pinpoint the aspects of them that were not rational (fearing sitting near electrical outlets or being scared of walking on a secure glass-bottomed bridge, among others). In fact, I worked through pretty much all of these fears in the first year and a half, and then only two remained.

The two that remained were complicated, hence why I left them for the end. These were 1) drowning and 2) exposing my arms or legs. I couldn't tackle drowning without swimming, and to swim I would be wearing shorts (exposing my legs), so that one became a big obstacle. I decided to start wearing t-shirts first, exposing my arms. I owe a big part of this to the closest thing I have to an older sibling, my cousin shalin.

He's the only person I know, relative-wise, that wore my exact insecurity like it was nothing. To be clear, I was never uncomfortable showing my skin or the shape of my body, it was always about hair. It realistically isn't that big a deal, but it caused such a huge dilemma for me, one that is too complex to include in this post, but tldr: I was insecure with the amount of body hair I had and too uncertain to get rid of it. Seeing him simply exist, being the only person I knew with the amount of hair I had, wearing clothes I was too scared to wear, gave me so much space to do the same. Finally, I started wearing t-shirts. (and thank goodness for that, because the scorching Texas summer heat that climate disaster has wrought is no joke).

Fast-forward to a year and a half later; wearing black jeans and a t-shirt was my unofficial uniform during warmer months, but no shorts yet. Or rather, I had worn shorts a total of only 8 times in the span of about 7 years (yes, I counted). After so long, I came to grapple with a crossroads during my recent study abroad in Colombia (thanks for the scholarship, Texas Global!).

On the second to last dayof our trip, our cohort went river rafting. The only way I could avoid both drowning and wearing shorts was to simply not go by faking illness or just saying I wanted to stay back from the rafting experience. The version of me that existed a year ago would have jumped at the opportunity to avoid the water altogether, but thankfully, I've grown since then.

I chose to go. To ease the burden, I trimmed down the hair on my legs just a bit the night before, so I could feel the anxiety and work through it without bein too overwhelmed with it. It was more or less a success, I wore a sleeveless spf shirt and swim shorts and swam in la vieja river. Did I have a panic attack in the water rapids and almost drown? Maybe, but that's besides the point :P

The next day, I wore a pair of shorts in public (not swimming), as if I had always done so, and that it was completely normal. Turns out, I had developed sensory issues. Whether I had always had them or if they had developed as a result of wearing only pants for 7 years, I wasn't sure. When I wore pants, my hair felt the same sensation all day: fabric. It was easy to tune out. Now, every gust of wind, splash of water, movement of my shorts, bumping into something, etc, made it harder to disperse feelings of overstimulation originating from my leg hair. Finally, after I came home to Houston, I did what I maybe should have done 7 years ago: I shaved my legs (actually, I trimmed them and then used a depilatory cream, but same difference).

This has felt sooo liberating, and I feel so much comfortable in my own skin. I just wore shorts! For like 4 days straight! 2022 me would be shook.

This ride ain't over yet, though.

Remember, there's still that other minor resolution, the one about "culinary limitations." See, I'm allergic to all tree nut species (except 5), as well as peanuts, chickpeas, sesame seeds, kiwi, and eggplant. On top of that, I don't eat anything that comes from an animal, except honey, occasionally. Personally I don't think this is that limiting, but that's probably because I've lived with it since forever. Other people tend to disagree "wow that sucks!" "where do you get your protein??" "so you must have been starving when you were at [insert random location here]" et cetera. Still, it does make me think about foods (read: ingredients) I don't eat because I "don't like them."

Imagine being a fully grown adult and saying something like "ew no I don't like [insert fruit or vegetable here] and I won't eat it!" for no reason. What am I, a toddler? Embarrassing.

Anyways, I took a look at foods I didn't like and narrowed it down to the ones I previously felt I could never eat: Okra (always slimy), mango (bad taste), banana (tasted horrible), avocado (tasted like grass and dirt), papaya (tasted like vomit), and carbonated drinks (too fizzy). Mango was the first to go, I don't love overripe mango but I'll eat it if its in front of me, and any other form of mango I love. Okra I disqualified because I learned that it was the cooked version i disliked, not the vegetable itself (I had pickled okra and it was great). Carbonated drinks were next, I don't crave them at all, but I'll taste someone else's if they say it is good. Papaya was next, some papaya actually tastes good, the key is picking the right species and not letting it ripen too much (otherwise it secretes compounds that are the same as what is in human bile, hence the vomit flavor). Avocado took a while, but that shift was catalyzed when I was in Mexico (thanks again, Texas Global), and avocado was served with each of our meals. It also tasted better there, I think. Now, I'd eat avocado toast any day. The final piece is banana. I tried to eat a banana in Colombia, but I gagged at the first sniff and figured it would be embarrassing to vomit in front of everyone, so I stayed away from it. That's still a work in progress, but I will complete this resolution.

I set this now; in time I intuit it will be.

[laceymorganwrites]

One of us

Word count: 1,979

Pairing: none

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse

Summary: Illumi tries to rebel, leading right to you and the troupe. His shackles break, he tastes freedom for the first time.

It was the most dangerous point this time of the year, the time when the troupe had to change their hideout.

You didn´t really have to but there have been incidents in the past that made you extra careful now, incidents that started the whole Zoldyck hatred in your group.

Well hatred would mean fear as well which wasn´t the case, they were more of a nuisance, a wasp that always came back to eat the cake even though you flicked it away so many times already.

Though you had to give it to them, they tried, always came back even though they knew they´d lose. Just like all the other times.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, hide and seek.

It would´ve been fun if it wasn´t so annoying.

You had to admit that it was kind of funny to see those old guys chase after you, with such a laughable ambition in their eyes. What were they even trying to achieve? Honestly, you were just trying to live your life and have some fun. As far as you were concerned you never interfered with anyone of them or their acquaintances if they had any.

Well, maybe they were just trying to stay relevant in the underground and took every job they could get even though they could never even hope to finish it.

Quite a sad fate but that was what you got when you just wouldn´t learn your lesson.

Being stubborn wasn´t always the key to being successful.

“Where are we going this time, captain?” you asked, peaking out your head from behind the boxes you were carrying.

“Oh! How about somewhere near a beach? I haven´t been on vacation in so long” Machi chimed in, a dreamy expression in her eyes.

“Wait actually, how about a vacation? I mean we don´t really have any jobs right now, why not take a day or two off?” you supported her statement.

Everyone seemed to agree with the idea but Chrollo was reluctant. “We should move somewhere safe first and make sure the Zoldycks are busy with something else. I´ll think about it then” he let you know.

After they killed one of you he became paranoid, even more than he already was.

And you couldn´t blame him.

Chrollo didn´t have it easy in the first place managing the spider, being able to stay hidden and without anyone bothering you.

“Alright. I´ll check the route” you said, making yourself useful and making sure nobody would follow you.

As you stepped out of the hideout and looked around everything was in the clear, you nodded at Phinks and Uvogin who were responsible for driving the trucks with all your belongings.

The two men helped carry the last boxes inside the trunks and then you all joined them in the cars.

Chrollo was on edge, you could tell, the way he stared outside the window so paranoid as if you´d get attacked the next second.

“We´re almost there, captain. I can´t sense anyone but us, it´s gonna be over soon” you tried to calm him down, he appreciated it, just nodding.

His jaw was still clenched, but that was just how he was, always looking out for others and disregarding himself in the process.

When you arrived it was a bit too quiet for your liking, the others were careful too.

“I´m going to check it out, you guys can start unpacking already” you said and walked around the property. This time you chose an abandoned hotel, the furniture was still in tact and Shalnark could work very well in the security and control room.

You decided to work on the basement together, making a nice playroom for Feitan.

The building was big enough so that there was something for everyone, the location was very well hidden too, so maybe you could stay here longer this time. You´d like that.

Carefully and observant you looked around and walked everywhere around the property, nobody else was here besides you, but you could feel something. It made you uneasy. And yet it wasn´t a threatening aura.

That was it. An aura.

Anyone who´d come to attack you would conceal it, so why…. Why was this person here? And more importantly: where were they?

You frowned, being even more careful now and not making it as obvious that you were looking around. Hell, you even laid against a brick wall as to show how much you didn´t know what was going on. You let your guard down in hopes of them doing it too.

But Illumi was even more careful. This was the most important mission in his life, the mission to gain his parents´ approval and love, failure was not an option.

No matter what you do, don´t mess with the spiders. They´re not worth the effort and work. That´s what they always told him. And he had believed them his whole life, not even questioning it once.

But rather than doing exactly that and becoming aware of the fact that he was stronger than his parents thought he could ever be, in a way that wasn´t self destructive, in a way that wasn´t manipulative, he decided to make this rule something twisted.

Illumi knew what sort of punishment waited for him for breaking that rule, after all his family were the only ones who were still able to actually hurt him.

However he saw it as a chance, if he broke the rule and succeeded in killing them that would only show them what a great assassin they made of him, he wondered if his parents would finally be proud of him then.

“You don´t have any ill intent, how can I help you?” you faced him, still not seeing him but you could sense his nen well enough.

Illumi stayed hidden for a bit, how could you detect him? That messed up his plan quite the bit, but he didn´t have time to let it get to him.

He watched you from afar again, watching you just stand there unguarded. It was naive and stupid but so calculated, he rather felt like prey in a trap now, not the other way around. You made him uneasy and that excited him.

Maybe it wouldn´t hurt to play this game of catch with you, after all there was no hurt in having fun in his job, was there? Perhaps he was just playing with fire, you had challenged him for something he couldn´t calculate, for something he wasn´t ready for. It was exciting beyond belief.

“Ah, there you are~” you grinned when Illumi finally revealed himself.

“It´s not wise to be out here on your own, not calling anyone for help when you know someone´s here to harm you” he coldly stated, though it wasn´t really cold, it was just… distant, uncaring. There was no emotion behind it at all and yet all of them were. Maybe you were delusional but you could swear that you saw deep grief in his eyes, an even deeper hatred and regret.

Still, you didn´t know him, you doubted the others did as well.

“Yeah well it´s kind of obligatory to face danger in my work, so what brings you here? Something personal or just a job?” you couldn´t deny the fact that you were curious. After all it was pretty easy figuring out that he was an assassin as well. That only made things more interesting though.

“A bit of both” he answered truthfully. Again. No emotion in it at all. And somehow that just drew you in all the more.

“I see, well… hate to rain on your parade but we´re not really the types of people who get taken out easily. Or at all for that matter. But since you seem like a nice guy I´ll let you go before you make any stupid decisions” you offered him, Illumi was trained that nobody could ever trace his true intentions but all that training might as well be useless. Your intuition was better than that.

“I´m afraid I can´t do that. If I leave now everything will be over. I´ve come too far already to give up now” he let you know. Leaving for him would mean admitting to his parents that he broke their rule, he didn´t want to be punished like that ever again. He wanted to be free of them. Free for good this time.

But you were right, this was stupid to begin with. He knew how dangerous the spider was, he knew he wasn´t strong enough on his own. He sighed, the first sign of humanity he showed ever since he appeared. “I won´t kill you. But I can´t return either… this is inconvenient” he shook his head, thinking. Just what was he supposed to do now?

“Tell you what, why don´t you join us? You look like you have some tragic past, fits the job description” you grinned a bit.

Inviting him was a stupid idea, you knew that. But you felt sorry for him somehow. He clearly didn´t have a place where he belonged and to you that was just sad. Because you knew that everyone had a place to belong to, no matter how fucked up and broken they were.

“Pardon? I´m afraid that´s the worst idea I´ve ever heard” he said, appalled. Human emotion detected!

“Bad ideas make for good stories, what do you have to lose?” you grinned, curious about his answer.

Illumi had to chuckle at that. “Nothing anymore actually. I would´ve said my family but I never had one to begin with” his eyes were so empty when he said that, it made you sad.

Though they also held that sorrowful look in them, that realization that he could never have a normal family, that he could never be truly happy and he shouldn´t care, he knew he shouldn´t but … he couldn´t help it. It wasn´t his fault. It was engraved in him from childhood.

“Well now you do! Welcome to the spider” you smiled and practically dragged him along into the hideout with you.

To say the rest was shocked would be an understatement. Alarmed would be more fitting. After all you just brought their enemy into the hideout. However even they had to admit after a while that Illumi was anything but an enemy. Sure at first he was quite awkward and didn´t know how to act around everyone. But that was the thing, he didn´t have to act anymore.

For the first time in his life he could be himself, for the first time he had a chance to figure out who the hell that even was.

He fit right in into the troupe, they were all outcasts in their own way, each had their weird quirks about them and that was just what made them unique and special, that wasn´t a bad thing like he had been taught. After a while he even opened up enough to laugh and joke around with everyone. Though his way of laughing was just smiling ever so slightly that you wouldn´t even notice it if you didn´t look hard enough.

But you did. And the others did too. You cared about Illumi, he was one of you now, everyone would want to read him and they were patient enough to wait for him to open up, he was a great addition to your little makeshift family. And he was funny. Illumi had a dark humor but when you got it, it was the funniest thing you´ve ever heard. It even had Chrollo chuckling. And for him that was the highest of expressions and the biggest compliment.

And when Illumi´s former family attacked he fought on his real family´s side. He fought for himself, to keep this freedom, this inner peace, this adventure and excitement he´s never known before.

[agallimaufryofoddments]

Just a heads up, new Fate/strange fake is coming out in March. What do you think this means for Baccano since he promised 1935-E will be the next thing he finishes?

Hey there, anon; long time no chat, Tumblr; and long time wait, eh, Narita?

Here’s hoping that the sheer amount of links in this post don’t cause it to disappear from Tumblr’s internal search results...

For those wondering, anon is referring to two things:

The appearance of Fate/strange fake, Volume 7 on Dengeki Bunko's list of upcoming releases for March 2022.

The most recent tweets from Narita about Baccano! 1935-E, which date back to early 2021 and late 2020. I will be citing the machine translations of three tweets below; the original Japanese of each is provided under the cut w/archived links.

For Baccano!, you ask? Quite the ominous question you’ve asked. 

It means effectively the same as what Fire & Blood’s 2018 release meant for A Song of Ice and Fire when George R. R. Martin supposed that Winds of Winter could theoretically be published first. It means what F&B’s upcoming TV adaptation this year means for ASoIaF when Martin promised in 2019 he wouldn’t write the TV scripts until WoW was delivered.

Ish. Ish? Ish.

In all seriousness, I don’t think this means as much for Baccano! as you might be fearing. I know I’ve made jibes now and then about 1935-E being “challenging,” but, in truth, this says far more about Narita and his health than it does 1935 and its status. Here are my main takeaways from a chronological review of (some of) Narita’s tweets and publications throughout the past few years:

Narita’s health crisis has drastically affected his work-life balance.

Where a young Narita’s schedule was dominated by work (penciling his life in-between writing sessions), his schedule is now dominated by his chronically-ill health for the foreseeable future. He has to go to the hospital every month. He has various medical appointments. He has been diagnosed with, lest we forget, a disease that is ultimately incurable.

He is, or was, I have come to think, also just...burnt out. For a time, at least. I’ll elaborate on when and what I mean a little later, but it suffices to say that gone are the days when Narita could churn out four novels in a year. Right now, he’s still figuring out if he can manage two.

That is to say, I have the feeling that Narita is, at least for the time being, not quite up or able to spend...”as many spoons” on big projects / long writing sessions as he was when young.

For the past couple of years,  he has clearly been finding it easier to work in “spurts” commensurate with short fiction: manga chapters (c.f. DMDP), serial fiction (c.f. Shark Roar installments), novellas (c.f. Kurayukaba), and short stories (c.f. those two Naritaverse ones I shared last year).

I don’t think Narita necessarily even realized he was some equivalent of ‘burnt out” for a while, there. Summer 2020 does a number on hiim—maybe the pandemic picking up steam is what does it, exacerbating his problems or otherwise worsening the strain on his physical and mental health.

2021 is a different story. Actually, 2021 has a few reasons for me to be optimistic about Narita and Baccano! 1935-E, enough for the Vol. 7 release not to instill pessimism. 2021 is the first year in a while that Narita has written new Naritaverse content, putting aside whatever he wrote in honor of Durarara!! Stage.

Well, hold that thought. The chronological recap I’ve compiled below of some tweets and some publications is really worth looking over at this point, if nothing else for the sequential look at Narita’s own words on his own health and his own projects. You’ll be able to better contextualize my takeaways, whether or not you agree with them.

Keep an eye out for the April 8 (day?), 2021 tweet. I’m not really a Japanophone, so I’m not sure which of the two interpretations is closest to correct. The difference between them is major enough that it does actually undermine my ‘take’ on the F/sF Vol. 7 vs 1935-E situation.

Quick Chrono Recap

Notes: This is a non-exhaustive chronology, obviously; not all relevant tweets are quoted / mentioned, nor are various Narita works, but enough are provided for a sense of trajectory.

I’ve used machine translations for the Anglicized “quotes” of Narita’s tweets, so please check the original Japanese versions for yourselves via the archived links in the tweet’s chronological date. The dates may need to be double-checked for time zone adjustments, oops (my zone is EST); I tried to keep time zones in mind, but I keep getting muddled over which tweets I have and haven’t checked because there’s so many that I keep jumping between...

2017 April: F/sF Vol. 4 is published.

2018 Mar 20: Narita apologizes to a B! fan that Baccano!, “which was scheduled to be published last year, has been rescheduled.” He says the publication schedule isn’t up to him.

2019 Apr: F/sf Vol. 5 is published.

2019 Nov 08: Narita tweets that he is currently working on Baccano! and Durarara!! (He said he was “planning” to work on them “next” on Sep 27). The next month, he mentions again that he’s writing the last B! 1935 on Dec 18.

2020 Jan: F/sF Vol. 6 is published.

2020 Feb 8: In the first of three replies to “Fan A”, Narita echoes the aforementioned ‘19 tweets by saying he is still writing Baccano!

*ignores second reply in which Narita admits Vamp! wasn’t popular enough because it hurts*

In the last reply (poss. Feb 9 his time), Narita laments, “. . . . Baccano was just about ready to be continued when I was hospitalized for a few months and the timing was completely delayed . . . .”

2020 Apr 30/May 1: Narita tweets that he has decided to write a novella as one of the tier rewards for the Kurayukaba crowdraising campaign; he says he’ll start work on it once he finishes the Baccano! manuscript he’s working on.

2020 Dec ~24: Narita tweets...

“I've been working on Fake for a while now, but before that I have a book I need to publish for Dengeki that I'm behind on due to a number of personal and professional commitments this year, including medical treatment. I'm working on getting it out as soon as possible after that book (Baccano) comes out. ......I am very sorry for keeping you waiting.......”

He reaffirms this order of priority in a 2021 Jan 25 tweet.

See the April 8 tweet below for this translation confusion x2: is he saying he will release Fake “in one go” here and in that tweet?

2021 ~Apr 8, aka no F/sf Vol. 7: Narita replies to a Fate fan via tweet...

“I've been working on Fake, but I promised Dengeki Bunko that I'd publish the last issue of Baccano 1935 first, so I'm planning to publish it after that. I apologize for the delay. I'm very sorry for making you wait.”

Alternative TL?: Japanophones help me out here. Could this alternatively read “I’ve already written Fake [...] so I’ll be putting it out in one go after 1935″ or something along those lines? if so, the difference is pretty important.

2021 Apr 24: In a thread’s second tweet, Narita confides...

“Due to physical and mental reasons, I've been [struggling or unable to write / behind on writing] novels since last summer, but I'm finally back on track, and [Pandora Shark of Torch Island] is the first installment of my novel work. I'm sure I'll be able to update you on the progress of the Dengeki and other collections that I'm rebooting at the same time, so please bear with me!“

“Due to [physical and psychological reasons caused by illness and other factors]s? alt?

Check out this important reply to a fan (below):“...and I'm really sorry about the situation, it's just my [unpreparedness / malaise / age] that got me [confused / into trouble] after I went through surgery and a long hospital stay while writing Baccano. ......[We/I]'ve been working on this project for a long time, but [we/I]'ll be able to give you more information about Baccano soon, so please wait a little longer!”

I think the gist of his last reply is that he spent so long in the hospital that he was “out of practice” when it came to writing Baccano! after he was finally cleared to work or what have you? I knew my suspicion re: Narita needing to reacquaint himself with 1935 wasn’t entirely unfounded.

2021 May 25: Ditto the thread...

“I'm very sorry. I'm very sorry for the delay due to my long hospitalization and other circumstances after contracting a disease designated as intractable, but as soon as Baccano is finished, I plan to publish Fake in succession, so I hope you can wait a little longer.“

Observations: 1935-E’s active advocate is whom?

Call: Who...killed...thirty-five E...?

Dengeki Bunko, the phrasing of certain tweets seems to imply. Narita “needs” to publish 1935-E but “is behind.” Dengeki Bunko is thus the expectant party to Narita’s “obliging” party. Narita “promising” Dengeki Bunko out of context could be taken as Narita being 1935-E’s active advocate...if one assumes Narita volunteered such a promise without prompting.

With the context of the Dec tweet, however, I suspect it likely that Narita’s promise may have been a reactive rather than active one—reactive, perhaps, to Dengeki Bunko asking about 1935-E (yet again?). With the new retroactive context of an March 2022 F/sF release, the April 2021 tweets become that much more important to include here.

Speculative Interpretative Summary

Response: “I,” said Narita, “with my biro narrow / I...killed...thirty-five E.”

Q: To whom did Narita make his promise? 

A: Not us. He made Dengeki Bunko a promise.

Q: When did he make that promise?

A: Theoretically any time in (late) 2019.

No, seriously. As early as 2019. He quipped that he was “healthy now” in the afterword of F/sF Vol. 5. He did say he was planning to work on B! in September 2019, and was allegedly working on it by November. He will reiterate that he is working on 1935-E a few times in early 2020, and, at the cusp of May, is still referring to a finished Baccano! manuscript as a certain thing in firm terms. Maybe he really did believe it was doable, at this point in the year.

However... Narita’s physical and mental health evidently take a different turn that summer, c.f. his April 2021 tweet. His illness, it goes without saying, is one factor. Naturally he doesn’t say much about the other factors, which is his right as it is his personal business; I am sure, however, that the pandemic’s grip on Japan in Summer 2020 absolutely did not help matters. (You know, Summer 2020? When Tokyo was supposed to hold the Olympics? You probably remember reading about the COVID-19 situation in Japan in the news.)

His December 2020 tweet, then... Well, honestly, it reads like progress has been more “stuck” than “made” since December. Narita is essentially saying that Fake is on hold until 1935-E is out, but 1935-E is referenced in such a way that makes it feel more like a static obstacle than something dynamic. 

If we think of 1935-E and Vol. 7 as two vehicles on a single road, then Fate/strange Fake should be trailing behind 1935-E—stuck at 1935-E’s pace, with no choice but to wait until they reach an intersection and 1935-E can turn towards its finish line, allowing Fake to speed on ahead. This tweet instead has me picturing 1935-E stalling in place, with the driver of the Fake driver (DB exec) blowing his horn and checking his watch. Now, I guess, the Fake vehicle can simply not wait any longer; it is swerving around the 1935-E stall for a March release. 

—At the time Narita shared the Dec 24 tweet, I was latching onto the apparent reaffirmation of 1935-E being up next and thus saw the tweet as a positive update. Of course, the tone of the tweet itself is actually almost morose; Narita doesn’t actually hint at how 1935-E is going, as if he’s spent the last several months . . . . struggling to work on it or any other large-scale project...

(Oh wow. Hell. That is me. I’m describing me. On second thought, this may just be a massive case of projection so ignore me and draw your own conclusions from his own words in the original JP.)

Then we roll into 2021, and I guess April 2021 is where Narita starts to, as he says, “rebound.” 

Remember that 2021 Naritaverse content I mentioned?

Narita kicks off the year in a Naritaverse mindset via the two Baccano! 193X and Baccano! x Durarara!! 2020 short stories published in Feb 2021 as part of the Kadokawa Expo 2020 memorial book.

Then, in April, he kicks off a new serial novel (?) (Shark Roar series / Pandora Shark series), the installments of which take place in the Naritaverse c. 2034. 

(I know, right? I ignored the new Shark series for so long! How did it never come to my attention that the stories were set in the Naritaverse? I found a tweet in which Narita does mention this, but unfortunately it didn’t enter my radar at the time.

( Whatever Narita’s reasons were for launching Shark Roar, I’d like to think that writing the installments has been a fun way for him to kindle his excitement for the universe itself (through, what else, vampires and sharks) without any of the pressure that, say, the finale of Baccano!’s biggest arc entails.)

Baccano! is still on Narita’s mind toward the end of 2021, since he shares the news that Fujimoto’s Baccano! manga is fully available to read on the MangaUp! app. We’re approaching the two month mark since that tweet...

...Okay, so now what?

Well, let’s all go buy the first Shark Roar volume, for one thing. (It collects the nine installments released betw. April – November 2021). Am I right, fellas? I wanna see if there’s more info on that Nebula curator that’s mentioned...

If I really dared to go all out with optimism to the point of Isaac & Miria-levels of hopeless delusion, I would latch onto the “project / story” word choice (?) in the Spring 2021 tweet and hope that maybe Narita and Dengeki Bunko are figuring out how to hype 1935-E up once it’s ready. Again, the part of me who’d be doing the latching on is the part of me who still can’t let go of the “Baccano!” 2003–2023 extravaganza” fantasy founded on the conceit wherein the last B! LN is hypotheticaly published in 2003. 

(My consistency in wishing for this time and time again really might blow up in my face, because for all my “best to keep expectations lower than low” posturing I am definitely setting myself up for heartbreak if 2023 gets nothing in the way of a Baccanniversary,)

Summary, for the love of sanity?

To summarize this really lengthy position (God, I tried so hard to keep this whole response relevant, I’ve rewritten this whole thing twice in the mode of Theseus’ ship, cut out so many pointless paragraphs)...

Fake Vol. 7 beating out 1935-E seems less serious if one zooms out to consider the bigger picture.

2021 was actually more of a content win for Baccano! & the Naritaverse than it was for strange Fake!

(2020 as it turns out was really bad healthwise both physically and mentally, whodathunk!)

The cause(s) of 1935-E’s setbacks are manifold and cannot be reduced to any one factor. Narita’s rustiness with the material, Dengeki Bunko’s publication order decisions, Narita’s health, the pandemic (which likely has taken a toll on Dengeki Bunko’s available staff in addition to Narita’s own condition), these are all concomitant with each other and all relevant to 1935.

You know what I think Fate/strange fake coming out in March 2022 means? I think it probably means that Dengeki Bunko had some Terms & Conditions when it was decided that 1935-E really well and truly had to be Narita’s next release. See, March 2022 is the last month of Fiscal Year 2021 in Japan (Fiscal Years’ start & end months differ per country). 

I’m guessing that Dengeki Bunko could have said, “Look, we’ll hold off on publishing F/sf Vol. 7 for as long as we can, but we really will need it out by the end of Fiscal Year 2021 no matter what.” Again, sure, maybe there’s been some big new development that’s really responsible for the publication order switch, but—this is Fake we’re talking about. If those April 2021 tweets do actually mean that Narita finished Volume 7 well in advance, that would certainly be conducive to such a scenario.

I wonder whether there’s been any rumbling on JP Twitter or 5Ch about the updated list? I expect I’ll find some rumblings sooner than Narita will confirm or deny Vol. 7 is happening right now. (Whether he says something or doesn’t in a month’s time will really seal the deal.)

...I’m pretty sure there was at last one other definitive thing I wanted to say in this last section, for it’s popped in and out of my head at least three times in the last five minutes, but at this point I probably have exhausted you and the salient thoughts to be shared anyway. I guess I can edit it back in when I work up the energy to edit all the story titles...

Addendum: “big new development”...or any number of smaller issues. Reminder to myself and others that there are numerous people involved in a novel’s development process beyond “the author” and “faceless executive who personally hates Baccano!” ha. There never is just one person who can decide the fate of a product in a Japanese company; everything has to go through tons of people for review and approval per collective decision-making. As you can imagine, it often takes a long for these bureaucratic cycles to complete, and projects can be held up accordingly whiel their members wait for someone to get back to them.

Meanwhile, Katsumi Enami is always in demand for other projects; they need him to be available to illustrate the novel. Meanwhile, who knows to what extent COVID-19 has been taking out Dengeki Bunko’s staff? 

Meanwhile, by the time you finish reading all this, Fate/strange Fake will probably be out. Whew boy.

Totally Canon Dialogue between Narita and Dengeki Bunko

Insert after the paragraph that ends with “Dengeki Bunko has Narita sit at a table upon which 1935-E is the main draw.“   ←Can you tell I had to extensively rewrite this post? Because I did; this comment and, frankly, the entire ‘dialogue’ below, are vestiges of the early chaff.

Dengeki Bunko: Narita-sensei, we are very sorry that your health has been so mercurial. We are all rooting for you.

Narita: Thank you very much.

Dengeki Bunko: It has been two years since 1935-E was scheduled for release. Is there a chance that progress has been made during this time?

Narita: Yes.

Dengeki Bunko: Is there a chance that the novel can be completed by next year?

Narita: Reply hazy, try again.

Dengeki Bunko: We would like 1935-E out as soon as there is confidence it is ready.

Narita: I understand.

Dengeki Bunko: It has been two years, Narita-sensei.

Narita: I promise I am able to finish 1935-E.

Dengeki Bunko: If we push back F/sf Vol. 7 from a Spring 2021 release, maybe there will be significant progress on 1935-E? Enough so that we can finally publish it and thence Vol. 7 in succession?

Narita, in F/sf Vol. 6′s afterword: “I somehow managed to get two books out in fiscal year 2019! I hope I’ll be able to maintain this pace. . . .”

Narita: I promise I will finish 1935-E next.

Dengeki Bunko: We are holding off on Volume 7 for this, you understand, because 1935-E is so extremely overdue, but please understand that we cannot delay Volume 7 overlong. You have at minimum most of Fiscal Year 2020; we will renegotiate at the Fiscal Year’s end. Does this sound reasonable?

Narita: I promise I hope to maintain my hope that I can write at the pace I managed to maintain for the past several months, hopefully.

Dengeki Bunko: Narita-sensei, please try your best to finish.1935-E as promised. However, if it should happen that we approach the end of Fiscal Year 2021 with 1935-E still not quite ready, we will have no choice but to ensure Fate/strange fake Volume 7 is released before Fiscal Year 2022 begins. It would be shameful if the Fate fans had to wait even longer than they already have.

Narita: Yes, It would be a shame.

Dengeki Bunko: Please take care of yourself in the meantime, for it seems that COVID-19 coronavirus is proving to be quite contagious...

Non-Non-Non Canon (except for the part where the shark series is set in the Naritaverse)

Dengeki Bunko: Narita-sensei, please try your best to finish.1935-E as promised [...]

Narita: Yes, but what if I decide in 2021 to publish some serial installments from, let me see, April to November 2021? Could I do that?

Dengeki Bunko: Concentrate and ask again.

Narita: I will do that via a different Kadokawa subsidiary. By the way, they will potentially be set in the same universe as Baccano!, so can we count a collected volume of those stories “just as good” a substitute?

Dengeki Bunko: Eh? Who is allowing this to happen?

Narita: Dwango, to whose IP brand IIV I belong. If it is a comfort, the installments feature new characters and are set in c. 2034. I will be mentioning Nebula outright in the blurb for the second installment.

Dengeki Bunko: Is there a chance, Narita-sensei, that you have been writing Winds of Winter instead of 1935-E all this time?

Narita: No, but it is true that I wrote the original manuscript for the TV Drama Mushikago no Jōmae not so long ago...

I could write hypothetical dialogue between them all day. Unfunny dialogue that quickly outstays its welcome, but fun enough to write..

[deploythegayrrison]

Relief | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader (self indulgent fluff)

Here is my submission for the BNHArem server collab. This month we were challenged to take a break and spend time with our favourite BNHA character(s).

Look at the BNHArem SnapShot masterlist [here] to see everyone’s wonderful submissions!

❤️ Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

❤️ Word Count: 1,487

❤️ Warnings: Talk about chronic pain/illness, very slight angst, self-doubt, doubting partner

❤️ Kirishima is aged-up and a pro-hero in this fic

Reader is having a bad pain day and Kirishima takes care of them like the wonderful boyfriend he is.

-

“Hey babe, I’m home” you hear Kirishima call from the front door of your apartment. The two of you had been living together for a few months now, and you had no complaints on your end. He was the perfect boyfriend and the perfect housemate. The only thing you found difficult was that after so long of living alone, you had gotten used to being able to hide away on particularly bad pain days without worrying about making anyone else, well, worry. Luckily you hadn’t had many really bad days since living together so hiding it was pretty easy.

Kirishima knew about your chronic pain, and he never made you feel ashamed of your needing to be extra careful with yourself; and he was always particularly gentle with you anyways too. You had known that the day would come where he would see you curled in on yourself, face covered in dried tears, and staring at the wall in the dark confines of your shared room, but you had hoped to have been able to avoid it for a bit longer.  You knew that there was no way he would judge you for your ragged appearance, and he certainly wouldn’t think you were weak, but you were embarrassed all the same. So you said nothing and hoped he would assume you were napping and pass the bedroom by.

“Babe? What are you doing just laying in the dark?” His voice is soft as he walks in and kneels beside you on the bed. Ah. No such luck.

You glance into his eyes and are met with worry. You think about outright lying; telling him that you’d just laid down to have a nap since it was your day off. You opted to just say “I’m just feeling a bit off today, Kiri, nothing to worry about” with a forced smile. His face showed that he knew there was more to it than that but didn’t want to pry. It was when he placed a hand on your arm with a little too much force causing you to wince that it clicked what was wrong.

“Oh babe I’m sorry! It’s a bad pain day, isn’t it?” He asks with concern in his voice and you nod into your pillow; face hot with shame at him seeing you like this.

He hummed softly, noticing you were still in pyjamas from last night meaning you likely hadn’t been out of bed much if at all. It didn’t even look like you’d changed positions since he’d left for work that morning. You felt the bed shift as he stood up and made his way out of the bedroom without a word. Tears pin pricked at your eyes; was he ashamed of you for having stayed in bed all day? Was he mad that you hadn’t been up to wash the plates from last nights dinner that you’d both agreed could wait until the next day since you had both been exhausted? Did he think you were weak? On another day you would have shot those thoughts down before they even surfaced; Kirishima was the last person you could imagine thinking those things. You’d never felt more loved and appreciated in your life than you did with him. But right now your mind was so tired from trying to drown out the constant throbbing pain and ignore the sharp feel of lightening jolting through your neck when you least expect it to be able to squash what you knew were unreasonable thoughts.

Just as you were about to spiral into a whirlwind of what-if’s you hear the steady thud of Kirishimas feet padding back into the room, sounding slightly unbalanced. When you glance up you see him smiling down at you, arms filled with barely balanced armful of heating pads,a soft ice pack,  a glass of water in one han, his pinky and ring finger curled in on what you assumed was painkillers of some sort. The other hand was holding a bowl of soup, and two jello cups were nestled in the crook of hos elbow. He looked, frankly, comical, trying to juggle so many things on his own. It really did look like he was about to drop something, but as soon as you moved to get up and help him he immediately insisted that you stay put. Bending down slowly, he managed to place the soup, water, and jello cups on the bedside table before placing down the ice pack and heating pads on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“Babe… What is all of this?” You ask and he grins widely.

“Well, I figured you hadn’t been able to eat today and you so you probably haven’t had any painkillers or water either. But I didn’t know if you wanted more of a meal or just a snack so I brought both. I also didn’t know if you would prefer heating pads or ice packs, so I also just brought both of those too! Now let’s get you sat up so I can take care of you.” He put his arm behind your back for support as you slowly made your way into a seated position.You open your mouth to talk but he’s got painkillers and water in your hands before you have a chance; ushering you to take them.You do and then reach over to grab the bowl of soup. He was right, you hadn’t eaten today, and while you hadn’t realized before now, you really were hungry. Kirishima beamed as you took slow spoonfuls into your mouth, blowing on each bite. Beside you he starts to plug in the heating pad for you, but your voice stops him.

“Actually, Kiri… the heating pad sounds nice and all, but maybe you could just lay with me instead?” He was basically a blast furnace himself and nothing sounded more comforting to you than his warm embrace. Pausing from his kneeling position, he looked up at you and blinked confusedly for a moment before his face lit up and he pushed all of the hot and cold pads off of the bed.

“Of course I can, babe! You finish up that soup and I’ll get into my pyjamas too.”

You watch him quickly shed his hero uniform until he’s down to his briefs, admiring his toned back littered with scars from years of hero work. He is so handsome, you think as you swallow the last spoonful of soup and place the bowl beside you next to the jello containers. The bed dips as Kirishima crawls in beside you. He lays on his side, arms open and welcoming—waiting for you to crawl into them. And you do. You slowly slot yourself into his arms,face buried in his chest and one arm wrapped around his torso to pull him as close to you as possible. Being surrounded by his warmth instantly made your body go limp, your muscles finally giving you a moment of peace. Of course the pain killers and food probably contributed to the slow dulling of pain, but your boyfriends embrace felt the most soothing of all. A stray tear made its way out of your eye and you snuggled your face further into his chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but you feel his grip tighten slightly and he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Hey, Kiri…”

“Hmm?” You feel him hum in response.

“Thank you for everything… I love you so much.”

He presses a kiss into your head and replies “I love you more.”

You felt so blessed, and a little ashamed that you had doubted him earlier. The love you felt for him was more than you could put into words. He really was the perfect boyfriend.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Mitsuri’s Birthday

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Seven: (Happy Birthday Mitsuri, Free Day)

A/N: Hello, welcome to the last day of my ShinoMitsu Week writings. This has been a fun little challenge for me as I scrambled to get everything done in time. I only finished this last piece last night so, much like with every other piece I did this week, I hope there aren’t too many errors because I’m tired and only skimmed through twice. Anyway, many thanks to those who read along! Lastly, I’d like to apologize to Mitsuri for making her sick on her birthday. At least Shinobu came to help! Word Count: 2,030

Mitsuri’s eyes fluttered against the sunlight filtering through her window, causing her to roll over and sigh with relief when the light no longer reached her. Nothing could make her get out of her warm, soft blankets.

“Wake up, Onee-chan!”

“Ah!”

Nothing could get her out of bed, except maybe her eight year old sister jumping on her bed.

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” Natsumi cheered as she bounced with abandon.

Mitsuri whined. Her sister did this every morning, special occasion or not, but today the jostling made her feel terrible.

“Natsumi, please be gentle.” Mitsuri coughed. Now that she was actually awake, Mitsuri noticed just how terrible she felt. She felt hot, achy and it hurt just to swallow.

“Mitsuri, honey, you’re going to be late for school if you don’t get ready soon.” she heard her mother call from down the hall.

“Moooom? Onee-chan doesn’t look too good.” Natsumi called, taking note of her big sister’s trembling and sweating form.

“I don’t feel well at all.” Mitsuri moaned. “Why today of all days?”

Their mother came into the girls’ shared room. She felt her eldest daughter’s forehead and tisked, a sympathetic look upon her face.

“Oh honey, you’re burning up. I guess you’ll be staying with me today.”

“But, birthday plans...” Mitsuri rasped, disappointment evident in her tone.

“Another day, sweetheart. Wouldn’t you rather be able to enjoy yourself to the fullest?”

“I guess...”

“Akimitsu?” The mother called and the young boy appeared in the doorway. “Walk Natsumi to her school will you? Your big sister is sick.”

“Okay mom. Get well soon, Onee-san. I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday.” The polite boy frowned.

“Thank you.” Mitsuri sniffled.

“I’m going to make you some warm, soothing miso. I’ll be back soon.” Mitsuri’s mother smoothed back Mitsuri’s colorful bangs before following her other children out the door before closing it gently behind her.

Mitsuri weakly kicked her blanket to the bottom of her bed, freedom from the now stifling heat brought mere seconds of relief before returning to discomfort.

With difficulty, she heaved herself into a sitting position and peeled off the large sweatshirt she had taken from Shinobu’s the last time she stayed over. She weakly tossed it at the hamper and it barely made it halfway across the floor.

“Aww,” Mitsuri looked down at the tank top she was wearing covered in sweat. She really needed a cool bath. Carefully, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up on shaky legs. Her hips left especially achy with the change in altitude and her vision was swimming as lightheadedness consumed her.

She grasped onto her bedside table and sucked in a few deep breaths before braving the trip across the hall to the bathroom.

As she exited the room, she heard the cries of the twins as her mother worked to console them. Mitsuri would have loved to help her, but she knew she would be no help as she was now. Her mother would likely scold her for being up anyway.

Finally, she made it to the bathroom and stripped. A full bath would have been nice, but she simply didn’t have the energy and instead cooled herself and washed away the sticky sweat with the shower nozzle.

When she was done, she patted herself dry and hobbled back into her room. She had just enough strength to pull on another tank top and a pair of shorts before flipping back into her bed with a frown. At least the sweatshirt had helped keep most of the sweat off of her sheets.

She stared at her ceiling, feeling miserable. The chills were back so she pulled her blanket back up over her body, turning just in time to see her phone blink to life.

She gingerly scooped it up and squinted at the notification, a text from Shinobu. Mitsuri hurriedly unlocked her phone to open their conversation.

‘Where are you? You’re going to be late.’ the text read.

‘I’m sick : (‘ Mitsuri responded, frowning to herself as she realized she wouldn’t be seeing Shinobu today. Maybe she could ask for a facetime after school? This was easily her worst birthday ever.

‘I’m sorry Sunshine, that’s awful. What are your symptoms?’ Shinobu’s next text inquired.

Mitsuri relayed what she felt, selfishly wishing all the while that Shinobu would ditch her classes and sit beside her all day.

It took a little longer for Shinobu to text back, but when she did, the message made her heart soar.

‘Naho-san is working deliveries in the pharmacy today. She’ll be by in about half an hour with medicine and some other helpful items. I’ll come check on you after school. Love you.���

‘Love you too. Thank you, my knight <3 <3 <3’

Mitsuri clicked the screen off and hugged the phone to her chest. She coughed harshly and turned in her bed, eagerly awaiting Shinobu’s arrival later that afternoon.

About twenty minutes later, Mitsuri’s frazzled mother came in with Naho trailing behind her. The young woman waved at Mitsuri as soon as she saw her and she weakly gave one in return.

“Mitsuri, Naho-san from the pharmacy has a care package for you, but I’m sure you already knew she was coming.” Her mother guessed, carefully setting the miso on her daughter’s nightstand.

“Yeah, thank you for coming by Naho-san.”

“You’re welcome, Mitsuri-chan.” the pharmaceuticals student approached, “You do look ill, poor dear. Not to worry though, Kiyo, Sumi and I put together everything you’ll need for a speedy recovery!”

Naho produced a little bottle of medicine and explained to Mitsuri and her mother how much to take and when. Then she got out a little box of throat soothing tea leaves, a cooling peppermint oil for aching joints and a cute little pink elephant plush.

“On behalf of everyone at the Kochou Family Pharmacy, I hope you feel better soon, Mitsuri-chan, happy birthday.” Naho grinned.

“Thank you so much Naho-san. Please give Sumi-san and Kiyo-san my thanks as well.”

“Of course! Bye, Mitsuri-chan, Kanroji-san.”

And with that, Naho left to her next destination. Mitsuri’s mom stayed with Mitsuri a while longer to help her resettle. When Mitsuri fell asleep, she turned off the light and closed the door gently behind her.

***

Awhile later, Mitsuri began to stir in her sleep, a cough racked her lungs and stabbed at her throat like needles. She would have to ask her mother to make more of that tea. She was starting to feel hot again too. A small whine sounded in the back of her throat and mere moments later cool, smooth skin rested over her forehead.

Slowly, Mitsuri opened her bleary eyes to find Shinobu hovering close over head. Her eyes closed in concentration as her forehead resting against Mitsuri’s.

With a displeased hum, Shinobu straightened and opened her eyes, noticing Mitsuri staring back up at her.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Shinobu blushed faintly, “I was checking your temperature. You’re very warm. I’m going to get you a damp washcloth, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait Shinobu.” Mitsuri said, her voice quieted by her awakening as well as her sore throat.

Shinobu turned back to face her, “Yes?”.

“Hi.”

“Hi Sunshine.” Shinobu simpered, turning back to the door to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom.

While Shinobu was away, something caught Mitsuri’s periphery and she turned her head to observe it more clearly. She was cheered by the sight of a lovely bouquet of flowers.

“Do you like them?”

Mitsuri startled a bit as the cool cloth was placed on her forehead, so distracted she hadn’t notice Shinobu come back in.

“Kanae helped me pick them out. She’s more adept at the whole flower language thing. These ones are supposed to represent good health and healing.” Shinobu informed.

“They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like them. I’ve brought you some other things too.” Shinobu said, reaching for her school bag.

“Oo!” Mitsuri winced as another dry cough stabbed through, “what, what is it?”

“Well, least exciting is that I collected all your homework. Hinatsuru-senpai even made copies of all of her notes for you.”

“Ah, how practical of you two. Forgive me for not being excited by the thought of schoolwork.” Mitsuri groaned, causing Shinobu to laugh.

“I take no offense. Don’t worry, I’ve got something else you might enjoy more,” Shinobu returned her hand to her bag once more, withdrawing a neatly wrapped box, “Happy birthday, Mitsuri.”

“Aw, Shinobu!” Mitsuri squeaked as Shinobu handed her the box.

She gently removed the pretty wrapping paper as she always did, not wanting to tear it. Then she popped open the lid, wiggling once she saw the contents of the gift. If her throat wasn’t so sore, if she wasn’t so sick, she’d be bouncing around her room squeeing and showering Shinobu in kisses.

Inside was a neatly packed container of sakura mochi, a gift card from the Kamado Bakery, a new cook book detailing recipes from around the world and a beautifully crafted butterfly hairpin.

“Shinobu, this is all wonderful. Thank you so much!” Mitsuri couldn’t help but let a few tears slip down her cheeks and she sniffled, “I really wish I could kiss you right now but I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Then you’ll just have to rest and get better soon, won’t you?” Shinobu looked down at Mitsuri warmly. “Do you need anything? More tea perhaps?”

“Yes please.” Mitsuri sighed.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” Shinobu said as she turned over the cloth on Mitsuri’s forehead to the cooler side.

“You’re bedside manner is very good, Shinobu, like you’ve been helping sick people all your life and beyond. I’m so lucky.”

“If there’s one thing my family knows, it’s treatment of human health.” Shinobu nodded. “But it helps that you’re such an easy patient.”

Shinobu left the bedroom again and Mitsuri could hear Natsumi talking her ear off before they were too far away to be heard. Mitsuri looked back down at her box to touch the wing of the butterfly pin. She had often told Shinobu how much she liked hers and how cute it was that her sisters wore them too. It felt very special to be gifted one of her own.

Mitsuri ran a finger longing over the mochi, wanting nothing more than to dig right in. She knew she would enjoy them much more when she felt better so she held off. She took the cook book out and set the rest of the box down on the nightstand.

Shinobu returned with the tea, carefully setting it beside the flowers and box.

“Find any interesting recipes you want to try?” She asked.

“Mm, kind of. It’s hard to focus with this headache.” Mitsuri answered, rubbing at her eyes. Then she looked up at Shinobu standing in front of her, her eyes wide and pleading. “Will you read it to me?”

“Okay, put those puppy dog eyes away. I’ll be happy to read to the birthday girl.”

Shinobu walked around the bed and Mitsuri scooted over a bit to make room for her. Shinobu sat with her back against the headboard and smoothed her skirt over before taking the book from Mitsuri’s hands.

“Anywhere you want me to start in particular?” Shinobu asked, watching Mitsuri down her tea.

“The beginning is fine,” Mitsuri breathed, once she finished the cup and set it back down. Then she maneuvered herself to rest her head on Shinobu’s thigh, relaxing further when Shinobu combed her fingers through her fringe, trying to keep the wash cloth in place.

“Very well, recipes from Afghanistan it is. First we have a kidney bean curry recipe, lubya. The ingredients are as follows: coconut oil, coriander, cumin, dried mint, tomato, garlic, onion, broth, kidney beans...” Shinobu carried on, her voice as soft as a light breeze. She had hardly made it to the instructions when Mitsuri began to snore.

Shinobu set the cook book down with care and watched Mitsuri cling to her side. It may not have been the best birthday Mitsuri could have had, but Shinobu was happy she could be there to help her feel better.

[andromedasstarship]

faceless, nameless - the prologue

gif credit - @kylos 

pairing - kylo ren x reader 

warnings - canon-typical star wars violence, depictions of death/violence, fighting (verbal + physical), loosely implied physical intimacy (really up for interpretation here), angst, tension, implied mild love triangle, kylo ren betrays you 

summary - For four years, Kylo Ren considered you to be many things: his right hand, his confidant, an irreplaceable strategist, a friend and most importantly his equal. It all ended when he left you with a blaster shot to the stomach on a near deserted planet. On the brink of death, a rather dashing Resistance Pilot stumbled upon you, saving your life.  

Donning a mask to hide your identity, you’ve grown to become the most fearsome Resistance fighter they have; bewildering the First Order as to how you always seem to ruin their plans and avoid capture. Kylo Ren is a different man from when he left you two years ago, so how will he react when he accidentally finds you alive and well in Poe’s memories?

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3 here 

next chapter 

-----

the prologue - the sun 

On Starkiller Base, there were plenty of rumors as to why Kylo Ren kept you around. Some said it was because of your extensive training in hundreds of different languages, both spoken and signed. Others were sure it was due to your diplomatic upbringing that came with countless connections and near endless wealth. Or, maybe it was due to your more than adequate ability in battle that served him the most. Even some people thought you were a kept woman, who only existed as a way for Kylo Ren to blow off steam behind closed doors. Your favorite rumor was that you were actually a high-ranking Resistance spy who was tasked with infiltrating the First Order at the highest level and that Kylo Ren had become weak because of you. Had it not made you laugh so much the first time you heard it, Kylo would’ve crushed the windpipe of the lowly officer who created the elaborate lie. 

Of course, there were some truths in all the rumors, but none of them exciting. You were in fact trained in hundreds of languages and that training was a product of your diplomatic upbringing. You were exceptionally trained in various forms of combat, but that was something that came after you met Kylo; he had always been afraid of you not being able to properly defend yourself. You were most certainly not a kept woman, not that you and Kylo weren’t intimate, but certainly not in the type of dynamic people thought. You absolutely were not a Resistance spy, but even though neither of you said it aloud, Kylo Ren was definitely weak for you. 

How it actually happened is quite boring. The two of you met when Kylo had just turned 24, still more Ben Solo than Kylo Ren. You were recently 23 at the time, head of a diplomatic welcoming committee that met with Kylo as part of his first official diplomatic endeavor as ‘Kylo Ren’ the soon to be Commander of the entire First Order. He quickly became enamored with you and the way you commanded a team full of older men who clearly didn’t approve of your position- whether it was due to your age or gender he didn’t know- but still treated you with respect; in short, you radiated a confidence and power he desired. For you, it was quite the opposite, Kylo Ren still wasn’t sure of himself and at times still acted like the awkward lanky Jedi boy who had never spoken to a girl outside of school purposes. He was a fresh and welcomed change from all the annoyingly rich and cocky men you met with on a daily basis. 

Him and his team stayed on your home planet for nearly three months. Countless delegates from various planets flocked there for balls, meetings, conferences, and more. Your connections ran deep and you directly aided in the First Order’s successes during those three months. For the first few weeks, you and Kylo skirted around the obvious pull between the two of you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to ‘woo’ a girl, nor was he even sure if he was allowed to. His lack of action caused you to regularly doubt if he also felt the spark, or if it was completely one sided on your end. Weeks of longing gazes and accidental brushes of fingertips finally came to an end when the two of you were sitting on your private balcony, overlooking the well kept grounds, discussing the conference that had just ended. It was a roaring success for your planet as well as the First Order, both of you securing mining resources at an exceptional locked rate for a minimum of fifty basic years. You made the first move, he was irresistible under the moonlight, closing the space between you on your bench and pressing your lips directly on his. In his hesitation you thought you had completely misread the past month, but it was only a moment later that his hands found purchase in your hair, pulling you closer. The two of you were nearly inseparable for the rest of his trip. 

It was difficult, when he finally had to return to his new master and some massive ship that would be lightyears away from you. Unspoken promises were made the night before he left, declarations of love and devotion made behind closed doors. He was still far from truly becoming Kylo Ren, had copious amounts of training to finish before he would see himself be fitting for someone like you. If he was nothing else, Kylo was desperate for loyalty and when you watched his ship leave you had no doubts he would come back. 

And he did, nearly an entire standard year later. You almost didn’t recognize him when he stepped off his personal ship. All broad shoulders and shrouded in layers of black, with that intimidating mask covering his face. He was proving to be quite the warrior, the tales of him and the Knights he commanded reaching the farest edges of the galaxy. When the welcoming festivities had ended and he removed his mask in the privacy of your room, you found a mature face that had lost the softness you once knew. It was no matter to you, flinging yourself into his arms and vowing to never let go. 

This time, when he left, you went with him of course. Kylo had been shocked when Snoke approved it, but Snoke, ever the manipulator, knew the growing attachment between the two of you would inevitably prove to be valuable in controlling Kylo Ren. 

Moving into a giant spaceship wasn’t easy for you. The dark, cold and everlasting expanse of space was a sharp contrast to your warm ocean planet. You missed the sun on your face and your people, but when you vowed to never let him go, you meant it. As time went on, you grew accustomed to the ship and then eventually Starkiller- which was an entirely different battle, that piece of ice had you complaining for months-, and soon enough you couldn’t imagine a life not in space. 

Most of your days were monotonous, not that you minded. From the first day you stepped foot onto base, Kylo began training you himself. He never wanted you to feel as hopeless and afraid as he did when he woke up to his uncle ready to kill him in his sleep. So he trained you, and he trained you hard. You could wield a lightsaber well enough, as he argued that should anything ever happen to him- a thought you hated entertaining-, his saber would be the best weapon you had available. You were smaller than him, so close combat was a challenge but you learned to use your size and agility as an advantage. What you specialized in, was the staff. It allowed you to give a larger opponent at a safe range until it was possible to take them down. Kylo had a special one created just for you, with double edged electrical ends that you could easily turn on or off. It was rare that he actually let you on a battlefield with him, but when he did you were unstoppable. Not that you minded, you quite enjoyed working behind the scenes, forming battle plans and leading diplomatic endeavors for the First Order. 

Other than Snoke, no one out ranked you, not even Ren; a fact he had been extremely particular about after a visiting diplomat made the excuse of outright ignoring and belittling your presence in a meeting. You were equals in everything, even going as far as taking on the ‘Ren’ moniker. 

Among First Order subordinates, you were fairly well liked, and not just because it was unspoken that anyone who thought badly of you would probably die at Ren’s hand. The people actually liked you. Ren was cold, you were warm. When he was sharp, you were soft. It worked well, his ability to command troops and fuel the fires of war was complimented perfectly by your ability to talk nearly anyone to your side. 

You never wavered in your support for him, ever loyal by his side no matter what he did or who he killed or how many villages he burned to the ground. You stood next to him, never behind, when new planets presented themselves as potential allies. You watched from above when he burned villages, that dared aid the Resistance, to the ground. You cleaned and healed every single wound he received from Snoke’s brutal training. You held him together when the pull to the light made him feel weak and undeserving. 

Anyone could see that you were the sun that Kylo Ren revolved around.  

So, when he came back to Starkiller on that fateful day, covered in blood- your blood-, announcing that you were dead- and he was the one who killed you-, and that your name was never to be uttered on his base or by any First Order subordinate ever again, no one knew what to do. 

-----

 a/n - hi!!! im so excited for this story, ive never written star wars before and my lore knowledge isnt the best ill admit, so please excuse any minor bits of pieces i may get wrong! comments/likes/reblogs always appreciated. if you wanna be added to the taglist, just ask and ill make one! :D 

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own star wars or any of the character involved in it. 

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[myimaginarywonderland]

Okay, so this post will talk about Lance but I will also give my opinion on the Lando situation since I think it is important.

First off, I think it says a lot about Lando that he made an apology. Now, be it because of the backlash he faced, because he actually saw the harm he was causing or because he genuinely regrets it, that is something I don't know. What I do know is that by apologising for it, he acknowledges that his behaviour was wrong and that is really important because it shows that he reflected on himself.

While I do still feel irked by something about the message, be it that he isn't naming Lance or Lewis who he both targeted with his actions in different ways and apologise to them directly which he might have done in person, so I am not able to judge it or be it the weird sorry at the end, I can put aside my feelings and say that this was the right thing to do and is also setting an example for his fans who were one of my main issues with all of this. They then know that saying that was not right and might learn from it themselves.

But this post isn't about Lando. This post is about Lance.

As most of you might have heard, Lance was really affected by what happened on track. He can clearly see that he is anxious and uncomfortable in his post race interview and what happened afterwards tells the story (I don't really want to talk about it because this is something private that he did not share and it is like with the story on Twitter something that was shared by other people who he didn't give the right to share it too so I don't want to spread it any further.)

This is who Lance is.

Someone who is sensitive and takes a lot of things personally.

You want to know why? Because he has, as a person, always been blamed for his dad's wealth. As if he choose to grow up with a billionaire dad. As if he is somehow responsible for it.

And he has always been painted out as someone undeserving, someone that doesn't have talent and totally owns his position to the money of his dad.

Now, let me just give you some data because I want to totally discredit this made up stuff with no roots.

In 2015, he won the Toyota Racing Series. He won by a bit over 100 points. The second finisher was his teammate. You might now some of the other drivers who competed in this series for example one Callum Iliot or Artjom Markelow.

Or in 2016,his first season in Formula 3, he finished fifth. The winner of that year was Felix Rosenquvist (a great driver) who was also Lance teammate and had only one DNF in comparison to Lance 5 and a DSQ. Now, there are two other drivers, one that was the runner up in Antonio Giovinazzi and a fourth who was Charles Leclerc. Pretty competitive field if you ask me and to finish 5th as a rookie,is impressive.

Now, fast forward a year to when he won the F3 championship. He won over his teammate by a margin of over 150 points which is so impressive, even with the two more DNFs his teammate, Maximilian Günther (another great driver) had that is quiet a lot.

Now, if you really want to use the argument that he skipped F2 against him, there is another driver you should be discrediting just as much. You guessed it, M*x V*rstappen. He also went straight into F1 which was a definite mistake but nobody ever likes to say that. I would also like you to remember that Lance did not drive for F1 as a regular driver immediately after he won the championship, no in 2016 he was a test driver, so he could slowly get used to F1. (This is not official but I would guess it's the thought process behind him being a test driver.)

Now, in 2017, his first F1 season, he was teammates of Felipe Massa. Might have heard of him, lost his championship to Lewis by one point, was teammate of Micheal Schumacher and a generally way more experienced driver. Yeah, you wanna know what the difference between him and Lance was in Lance first season? 3 points. And Lance had 2 more DNFs. You know what else he got in his first season? His first podium. In his first season, he became one of the youngest people to ever achieve a podium. With just 7 rounds into his first F1 season, in an okay midfield car with a way more experienced and older driver he was up against, he achieved a podium. And during the entire course of the season, that would remain the only podium for the Williams team that year.

Now, onto 2018. Williams was not as bad as in 2019 but they were still nowhere in terms of pace and he still didn't finish last in the championship (but I don't think we can count this season.)

In 2019, Checo became his teammate. And Checo in my opinion is one of the best midfield drivers, so there was already a lot he had to go up against and he was still so young and had less experience. There is a 30 point difference between them. Make of that what you want but for me, sure it was not Lance greatest season but now you have to think if Racing Point where really that good go be the fifth best car or if maybe, Checo just got more out of the car with his experience and talent. And than, you have to consider that he was still young and only had one season where he was truly competitive (that 2018 Williams was not something you could truly challenge anyone with.) And to then be up to one of the best midfield drivers who is widely appreciated and adored by the paddock, is a lot. Maybe for some of you it was too big of a gap which is alright.

However, don't dismiss his talent. He has had a good junior career and was up to some of the drivers you love and call talented, he even beat some of your faves. Maybe you don't see him as the next great driver but he is not a bad one and truly deserves a seat if you consider his achievements. Maybe he could have proven himself more if he had a season in F2 which is fair but that doesn't take away from anything he has achieved.

And even if you don't see him as talented, that gives you no right to bully him online. He can't change who his dad is.

Now,onto the money. I see a lot of people saying that he is only in F1 because of the money (which I hope you have by now realized is not the case.) But really, let's talk about the money.

Money is something that sadly plays a big role in F1. F1 is above all still a business. And businesses want money. So, why not take someone who has money and talent like Lance? Where are you all saying Michael only got his seat because of money (he is a pay-driver after all or at least he was one when he came to F1.) And now let's talk about his move to Racing Point. Can you truly blame Lawrence for wanting to make his sons dream come true? Wouldn't any father if they had the resources do this? Wouldn't any father want to fufill his son's dream, even if it might be seen as unethical by some or criticized? Would you really care if you saw how happy your kid was? Would you really care if you saw the glow you kid had? I don't think so.

I already said it but he was at Williams before he was at RP. His dad doesn't own that team or have any chairs in it.

Let's forget his profession for a second. Let's say you don't find him talented as a driver or just don't like him, fine. You are entitled to your opinion and sometimes we just don't like people, it happens.

What else would you have against him?

He doesn't post on social media often because people already bully him enough for his family. There is basically nothing you can dislike about him there.

And as a person? He is quiet and basically does nothing to anger people. He is literally just a normal dude. He goes on trips with his friends, he does sports to stay in shape and watches sports. He is not even posting personal stuff because he doesn't want to give people more room to bully him.

If you saw him on the street, would you think he is from a rich family? He does not look like it at all, he looks like that guy from your local sport who is literally just a college student trying to get through life.

And not only was he discredited for all his accomplishments because of something he had no control over but he also saw another driver proudly display a symbol that has been used by people who killed people who belonged to his religion. He saw a driver weat that symbol in cooperation with a company whose boos seems to be a Neo Nazi.

Lance has had to go through to so much shit just because his dad was rich (which Nicky's and Lando's also are, yes I know it's less but it's still more than any of us will probably ever have.)

This boy does nothing wrong.

Did he make a mistake with the maneuvers on Lando? Yes. But he is still so young and also new to F1, he can still learn and is growing as a person and driver. He is expected to perform more just so he proves his worth which he already has because people discredit him for having a rich dad.

Have you seen what he has done this season? He would be in the top 5 had it not been for the last races where none of the DNFs where his fault. Neither was getting Covid or being ill but people literally made fun of him for being in pain, saying stuff like "Did Daddies boy have a little stomach ache?" Yeah, because F1 drivers aren't trainex to perform no matter what, aren't putting their health last when it comes to these things and might have to be really bad if they can't drive and are not even going out of their room.

He has improved so much, he is not blaming other drivers even if they clearly hit him (see Charles) and he stays calm. Because he can't afford to be to emotional since some people would hate him for rightfully calling out others mistakes and just maybe saying that their faves are not flawless and make mistakes (like Charles.)

He has to act a certain way or be a certain way because what would happen if he just showed more of his personality? You call him dull, boring but you don't even try to get to know him. You don't even look up videos where he is more open and comfortable.

He is awkward infront of the press because he has to fear to be discredited or to be questioned about his worth every second.

And all of this pressure, this mask and this pretend eventhough he is just as human as the rest of us. And you see how hard it is, how much he questions himself, how his self-doubt increases and ultimately what happened has happened.

Because while it is just an easy insult for you that you can post anonymously online, it is one of thousands for him.

And you know, he didn't grew up in Europe. Sure he competed with some of the European drivers later one but he didn't have any of them when he started racing and he might already have been an outcast because people would already have seen him as different since his family didn't need to make sacrifices to get him to wear he is now. At least not financially ones. And then, when he came to Europe there were these already formed friend groups and it wasn't easy to get into them. The only friend he had was Esteban and I am so glad. This seems like such an unlikely friendship because they are from totally different backgrounds but that might have been what connected them in the first place. So, with basically only Esteban who liked him from the competitive times, it must have been pretty bad (not to say that the others hated him but I don't think they really cared for him.) I am so glad to see that he now also has Checo and that they get along and I hope that stays this way eventhough all of what has happened (which is also not his fault and I am sure that if he had any say in it, it would have been done differently.) Maybe we can even see their friendship when Checo stays on the grid. And with the potential of Seb next year, that might be the only other friendship or friendly connection he might form.

He is so strong for having to endure the dislike of so many people and he is still so kind and so sweet.

This has been a long post but one that I have wanted to make for a long time. If you got this far, I applaude you.

[beatlebachelor]

May I? : Cedric diggory x reader

summary: your Cedrics best friend and you begin to realise your genuine feelings for him after he enters the Tri-wizard tournament only to find out he feels the same. hufflepuff reader!

Warnings: possibly fluffy?

Word count: 2,257

Y/N - your name

Y/E/C - your eye colour

This is my first time writing one of these so if there is any way you think i could improve please feel free to give suggestions!

Its Monday morning, 9:10 to be precise, me and my friends Cedric, Hermione, Harry and Ron were all sat down having breakfast in the great hall. Despite the fact me and Cedric were in Hufflepuff and the other three were Gryffindor we always sat together. Cedric was two years older than us and did get teased about hanging out with third years but it didn’t bother him, he enjoyed our company. I often hoped he favoured mine especially.

After everyone had finished their food Dumbledore stood up to do his weekly Monday morning speech, but it felt different this morning. “Is that Bartemius Crouch?” Hermione inquired. “Who?” Harry said cautiously. As Hermione went to answer she was quickly interrupted by Dumbledore as his voice bellowed through to the other side of the hall.  

“Today, I get to announce something very special and to help me we have Sir Bartemius Crouch from The Ministry of Magic. Hogwarts has been selected to host a famous wizarding event. The Tri-Wizard Tournament!” suddenly there were many whistles, cheers and whispers coming from all four tables, me and Cedric looked at each other in immense delight but everything suddenly stopped when Dumbledore spoke again. “There have been some new rules put in place this year to ensure more safety for our students, after all this is a very dangerous competition. Sir Bartemius Crouch, if you will” a few small whispers formed from different areas of the hall. Ron whispered to us all “if any of you enter this competition ill be praying for you, this tournament is the real thing, so many people that have entered this died just from the first round” What Ron said shook me up a little, part of me knew that Cedric would give into whatever temptation he had to enter.

After all the whispers had finished Bartemius walked up to stand beside Dumbledore. He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket where he had obviously written a speech. The room began to feel slightly tense. “From this year onward those who enter and compete in the Tri-wizard tournament must be at least 17 years old-” He was suddenly cut off by the majority of the hall shouting and screaming at him. Me, Harry, Hermione and Ron weren't phased by the new rule. None of us were of age anyway and if we were we wouldn’t have entered. Cedric however appeared to be very pleased with himself, he was 17, he could compete, he wasn’t my boyfriend or anything but id known him for ages. What if he entered and got hurt, I don’t want to stop him from doing something he is interested in though because that wouldn’t be fair.

When we all left the hall I went straight to dark arts, I didn’t speak a word to Cedric in fear that if I did I would just break down and cry. I didn’t want to ruin anything for him because I could tell from the look in his eyes that he wanted to win that cup, and if he wanted it then I would want it for him. After all I was his closest friend, friend... that never felt nice to say.

In dark arts I could barely focus, all I could think about was if I liked Cedric, I had known him for so long and never thought about whether how I felt about him was more than just friendship. I mean would it be so bad if I liked him? I couldn’t get him out of my head. UGGGGHHH this is so frustrating. The thought always did cross my mind about how perfect his face was, everything about him in fact, I couldn’t think of a single flaw no matter how hard I tried.

By the time lunch came I still hadn't made up my mind on if I actually fancied Cedric, I mean come on, am I really going to be like every other girl in this school and fall for his charm. And as if he’d ever like me back, by the looks of it he’s probably into one of the Beaxbatons Academy girls just like the rest of the boys in this place. In all fairness it is rather enjoyable to watch them walk, how do they always look like they are floating? Besides the point! Hopefully I'm just unwell, surely that’s the only explanation.

I went straight back to the common room, anything to avoid Cedric, even if it was missing lunch. However, it appeared my plan to avoid Cedric had failed when I walked in to see him sat on the sofa next to the fire. Just him, no one else. “Are you ok?” I asked with a shake in my voice. “Y/N I wanted to talk to you. We have been friends for ages which is why I want your opinion, I trust you” I felt a small flutter of butterflies in my stomach and proceeded to say “you trust me? I mean emm what is it?” that made me feel rather embarrassed. “Well, I was thinking of entering the Tri-wizard tournament but i know how dangerous it is and idk if I'm capable of the magic I will need to protect myself. I also don’t want to hurt anyone if something bad were to happen to me” A horrible feeling formed in my stomach and slowly moved to my throat. The thought of Cedric getting hurt made me feel sick. “Cedric don’t be silly. Your one of the most talented wizards in this whole school and you seriously think you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself. If its what you want then we all want it for you and I will help in whatever way I can to ensure you win” I said that full of confidence, I really did mean it, every word. “Youve always been there for me Y/N, I genuinely don't know what I would do without you” He pulled me in for a hug, I always loved our hugs, my head would always fall in the right place on his chest. He smells so good, almost a musky bark smell with a hint of vanilla. I wondered if he thought the same.

A week passed and it was time for the champions on the Tri-wizard tournament to be announced. First the champion of Beaxbatons, Fleur Delacour. Next the Durmstrang champion, Victor Krum. As the paper for the Hogwarts champion floated down into Dumbledores hand my stomach sunk but then I felt a slight warmth on my hand, I looked down and it was Cedric. He had interlocked his fingers into mine and was gently squeezing them with excitement, I turned to him and smiled he looked directly into my eyes with a slight smirk as his cheeks flushed pink.

Dumbledore read out the name on the paper “And finally the Hogwarts champion is, Cedric Diggory” Cedrics face lit up with pure joy, so did mine, his iridescent blue eyes glistening. He hugged me so tightly for only about 2 seconds, but there it was again, that smell, his scent makes me feel so warm inside. He let go and stood up to go shake Dumbledores hand. Everyone was cheering, mainly the girls, of course it was the girls.

Another week went by and we had been preparing for his first task, dragons, I don’t know what would've happened to Cedric if Harry didn't tip him off. We practised basic spells on how to defend himself against them for hours and hours. Now we would have to see if he remembered them. Whilst in the tent I stayed with Cedric, he asked me to, his words were “your the only one who can keep me calm” After he had picked out his dragon the canon went off, Cedrics eyes glazed over slightly as he turned and gently kissed me on the forehead. He had never done that before, maybe it was just out of nerves. So many thoughts rushed through my head, surely Cedric didn’t like me? By the time I had gathered my thoughts he had already gone. I ran to my place in the audience, right next to Hermione. She asked what took me so long. I didn’t want to tell her but at the same time I did, I gave her a brisk hug and began to watch Cedric in hope that he would succeed and taking the egg.

Cedric managed to complete the first task unharmed within what seemed about 15 minutes. I was so proud of him. When we were all back at the common room I realised I needed to talk to Cedric, about all the hugs and the forehead kiss and most importantly, how I felt, I waited for everyone to head to their rooms and asked Cedric to stay behind. We sat on the sofa with the fire crackling beside us. “I'm so happy you passed the first challenge, I'm really impressed” I paused for a second thinking of how I was meant to say what I needed to say, but then he cut me off. “Y/N, about earlier, when I kissed you on your forehead, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Recently Ive realised how much you mean to me and I don’t want to do anything that your not ok with. I'm sorry if this is forward but I really do like you, its everything about you. Your hair, your smell, your Y/E/C eyes. I'm sorry I sound so stupid right now” A rush of emotions came over me, was I hearing this correctly, did I fall asleep and I'm actually just dreaming. “Cedric, I feel exactly the same, I didn’t want to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same way and then it was too awkward to continue being friends. That’s why I asked you to stay down here with me for a bit” Cedrics cheeks were bright red and he had a happy/embarrassed expression on his face, I could tell mine was doing the exact same. He held onto my hand again, it felt so natural, I usually wasn’t all for the idea of being touched often but when Cedric did it everything felt ok.  

A couple hours passed whilst we were just chatting and even played a game of wizards chess. After I began to get tired he walked me to my room holding my hand all the way. When I got to the door he stopped. ”Y/N would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me” I didn’t even have to think “Yes Cedric, I would” He hugged me and let me go into my room.

We practised for the dance for the next two weeks, it was so fun, we rarely took it seriously but that was what made it even better.

Finally, I hope our practise for the dance was worth while considering I have two left feet. I had just finished getting ready, I wore a flowy light blue dress with a few pale pink and beige tones. As I walked down the stairs I bumped into Hermione. She looked so beautiful, her hair was so perfectly done and she was wearing the prettiest pink dress. Had I not made a big enough effort? We continued to walk down the stairs and I noticed Krum was waiting for Hermione, I couldn’t see Cedric so I stood and waited with them both for a bit. And then, there he was, he looked as handsome as ever in his dress robes, a wide smile formed on his face when he looked at me. He slowly walked over “you look absolutely stunning Y/N” he said whilst gently holding onto both of my hands. “Don't look too shabby yourself” I said with a little giggle, he laughed too, he always did tell me that my laugh was contagious.  

Once everyone was gathered in the great hall the champions and their partners were ordered to enter as we were the first to dance. We took position. Staring into Cedrics eyes as he held onto my waist made me feel as if we were the only two people in the room, I wasn’t worried, in fact I didn’t feel anything but joy. The music began and we set off. The more I continued to look into his eyes the more natural the dancing felt. Every time he lifted me into the air butterflies formed in my stomach, my dream was always to be able to dance in a ball with a gorgeous boy and now, my dream was coming true.

As the night grew longer me and Cedric remained in the hall dancing for hours upon hours. Eventually we sat down “Tonight has been really fun Y/N” he started “i actually have something to ask you, well Ive been meaning to ask it for a while now actually.” There was only one thing on my mind “sure go ahead” Cedric slowly stood up holding my hand causing me to stand up too. He gently moved the hair from out of my face and put it behind my ear and the proceeded to place his hand on my cheek. His hands were so soft, I could feel the warmth on my skin. My heart was beating so fast. I saw him open his mouth as if he was too scared to say what he wanted to. “May I kiss you” he said silently in a slightly shaky voice. I leaned in closer to him, my lips very nearly touching his. “...yes”

[fibrowarriorgirl]

Toxic positivity & chronic illness

This post is aimed mainly for the people who aren't chronically ill themselves, but for those who know someone dear to them is chronically ill. Although I think a lot of chronically ill peeps will be able to relate to this post.

"Stay positive." It's something that pretty much everyone hears in their life. In our darkest moments, we will always have someone telling us to be as happy as possible. Remember the last time you were upset, and someone told you something like this. How much did you appreciate this?

Sure, it can definitely help under certain circumstances. Let's say you failed a test at school. Your parents telling you "it's okay, better luck next time!" could actually cheer you up. But what if it wasn't just any test, but an important exam you failed. "Better luck next time!" is a lot less pleasing to hear. You failed your exam, you won't be able to go to your next year, all your friends did pass so you won't be in their class any more, and the next time you do the exam will be over a year from now. The phrase "better luck next time" sounds bitter more than anything. And definitely isn't appreciated.

We as humans often feel inclined to turn anything bad into something positive. It's a natural response. You see someone you love in pain, you want to be able to say something that will make it better. But we have to be realistic, there will be times when someone is in pain (physically, mentally or both), and there is nothing to say to make it better. And you trying to make it better, only makes it worse.

I've only had my fibromyalgia diagnosis for almost a month, but I've had episodic pain for over a year now and constant pain for almost 5 months now. Especially this last month has been rough with toxic positivity.

Receiving the fibromyalgia diagnosis was hard. At the time of being diagnosed, I didn't know too much about it. I had read about a few symptoms, but I honesty didn't think I could have it. So once I did some research, I was devastated with my diagnosis. And something I noticed, is that a lot of people were trying to help me by saying uplifting things.

"But Elke, what's so bad about that?" What bothered me the most, was that I wasn't even diagnosed for a week and people were telling me to cheer up. Telling me it could be worse, telling me what has helped them when they had pain once, it will get better, it will pass. And I always had the same response: "Let me be sad for a while."

I had just heard I had chronic pain. I have a very frustrating diagnosis. Doctors can't tell me what it is in my body that is causing all of my symptoms. There is no medication. I need mobility aids to get around. I will need a very intense form of rehabilitation. So yes, I was pretty depressed for a few days. The last thing I needed, was to hear it could be worse. I was grieving, grieving the life I once lived. I was in denial of the life I was forced to start living.

Maybe you're thinking that even though your positivity isn't welcome, but it can't hurt, right? Unfortunately, you're wrong. Being told that something could be worse, tells me I am bothering you, that my pain isn't severe enough to be upset about. Maybe that isn't your intention at all, but it is somewhat implied. We also internalise this way of thinking. I tell myself "it could be worse" so I can't feel bad. Even though my head can be pounding, my joints burning, with no energy in my body to do even the simplest of tasks, I'm still not allowing myself to feel bad. Because there is someone out there who has it worse.

Not only does this phrase negatively impact me, it impacts my surroundings. Let me take a friend of mine, who I will call Jane Doe for the sake of anonymity. Jane suffers from an undiagnosed eating disorder and body dysmorphia. And a few weeks ago, she told me she felt bad whenever she talked about her struggles with her body to me. "You're actually in constant pain, you have it so much worse." Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear that? She is struggling with something I know can be so challenging. She is in (mental) pain, but "it could be worse." I am still here for Jane, I don't think of her pain as less or not as important as mine. I don't want her to feel like that.

Of course, there are many things chronically ill people are frequently told that do more damage than good. "I had pain here once, so I did x and y and it went away." We already tried x and y. We tried the whole alphabet. "It will pass." No, it's a chronic illness. It can get better, maybe. I could go on and on.

Discussing toxic positivity is awkward. Because I realise all of these things are said with love, with the intention to help, to put a smile on my face. So I don't want to point out that you're actually hurting me by saying this. I often will just smile and nod through it. And I get it, I really do. I too have done this in the past, I probably still do without even noticing. And I also understand that my loved ones also have to adapt to my new life. You don't get a handbook on how to deal with your chronically ill daughter/partner/friend/etc. So that's why I'm posting this, to educate.

Instagram account @unchartedmalady posted a quote a few days ago that inspired me to write this post. "We don't seek solutions or treatments from friends or family. That is what medical professionals are for. We want support, understanding and empathy." This perfectly describes how I feel about this.

I'm in pain, every day. Some days, I get a lot done. Maybe I'm in a little less pain, but that isn't necessarily the reason. I could be excited to do something, I could have rested a lot the days beforehand, maybe I just somehow woke up with more spoons than usual. There are also days where I am not able to do much. There are even days that I can only get out of bed to use the toilet. Maybe this is a really bad pain, but that also isn't necessarily the reason. I could have received bad news, I have just done something 'big' the days before and need to rest, maybe I just woke up with less spoons.

On my good days, I don't need much support. But on those bad days, I need you. And I don't need you to help me. I need to be able to tell you "today fucking sucks, this is why" and for you to listen. Seeing your loved one is in pain is uncomfortable, you will feel the need to say something positive to cheer them up. This might sound blunt, but learn to deal with that uncomfortable feeling. Some appropriate responses could be:

"Do you know what to do on days like this?"

"Have you been able to discuss this with (medical professional)?"

"I am here for you."

"I'm sorry you're going through this."

"Can I help you with anything?"

Something that I personally think is a great alternative to saying something positive is: "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better." This acknowledges that you want to say something to help, but that you realise there is nothing you can say to help. And also, be honest if you don't know what to say. "That sounds awful, I genuinely don't know what to say." There is nothing wrong with being honest about that.

And to finish this post off, I am not here raging against everyone who has every said something 'toxically positive.' I am here educating about this. It's okay to make mistakes, especially if you didn't know about this. And maybe you will still make this mistake every now and again, that's okay. As long as you're trying. We're all human, we all make mistakes. If you're ever not completely sure how to handle a situation with your chronically ill loved one, please just ask (respectfully).

(Credit for image goes to uncharted malady on instagram. Click here to visit their profile)

[xfandomwritingsx]

Hold Your Breath - Chapter One: A Blank Page - Draco Malfoy

-gif source unknown-

Description: After decisions put you on opposite side of the war, returning to Hogwarts to finish your education proves to be challenging. Maybe closure isn’t the only thing you need from Draco.

Warnings/Labels: Angst. Hints of depression. Unhappy reunions.

Approx. Word Count: 3,000

A/N: I’m trying to keep the reader’s house open for interpretation, but I think it’s pretty plain to see that in my head, she’s a Ravenclaw. I’m also not a fan of this chapter. This is the chapter in which I converted what I had written of the oneshot into a longer piece so there are bits that to me still have a different feel than the rest. Makes it a little choppy when I read it, but hopefully it’s not bad for you!

Story Masterpost

-

September 1998

The world looks the same as it always has outside of the train window, but it all feels different. Colors still feel muted and even though there’s less chaos raging behind the trees, they still give you an ominous feeling deep in your gut. There are familiar faces on the train, but not enough to make you feel at home. Eyes either avoid yours or stare uncomfortably long. You feel out of place. You’re not supposed to be here.

But, yet, here you are. Your classmates have affectionately dubbed it “The 8th Year” at Hogwarts and even that makes you feel ill-fitting since you didn’t actually attend any of your 7th year so how could it possibly be considered your 8th? You had spent all of last year in hiding, most of which at The Burrow working to gain trust and prove your worth. You’d spent the end of it fighting on the winning side and risking your life for people you once hated.

You don’t belong.

And right now, if you could, you might just get off the train and call it quits on the whole 8th year idea. But you’re already committed now and you refuse to be labeled a quitter. It’s time to move on and build a life for yourself and you know that starts with finishing your education as best you can. So you swallowed the nausea and stayed.

You are one of the last ones off the train partly because you don’t like being in the crowd and partly because you hope it might lessen the stares. Armed with a bag filled almost entirely of long sleeved shirts, you take a deep breath and step onto the platform.

The air is warm, though the threat of colder weather ahead lingers in the air. You yearn for it, having taken a liking to the cold in the last year or so. Trees still hold their color so you suspect you have to wait just a little while for it yet. At least it gives you something to look forward to.

You begin your walk down the platform, feet padding gently along the wood. One step at a time, you tell yourself. One foot in front of the other until they suddenly stop when the sight of Draco exiting the train a few doors down causes your lungs to seize. You’d heard he would be attending so it shouldn’t have stunned you to see him, but it did. You had chosen to ignore the fact that you’d likely run into him, instead choosing to blindly hope you could somehow avoid him all year.

The thinning crowd of people allows you to see him fairly clearly. He’s looks good, well and healthy even. The little boy who broke your heart had grown into a man somehow. Perhaps in the four short months since the end of the war, he had healed. Maybe he was atoning for his wrongs. A softness in your heart grows as you watch him, letting yourself briefly daydream about a happy reunion filled with apologies and hope for the future.

His eyes scan the platform and when they fall on you, your heart speeds up anxiously. His look is not warm or friendly and when you recognize the façade painted on his face, your girlish fantasies are wiped away. He’s nothing more than the same boy he’s always been, playing pretend in a black dress jacket and trousers with a coward’s fear hidden behind his steely eyes.

He doesn’t even acknowledge you, just keeps scanning the platform before adjusting his jacket and continuing on his way. Pushing back the anger you feel starting to bubble, you tighten your grip on your bag and make your way to the carriages by yourself.

~~~

Your memories of him have always come in waves and the last two weeks have been no different as you settled into your new, old routine at school. You can go hours, even days without thinking about him and then out of nowhere, a memory will hit you so strongly that you feel like you’ve entered a pensieve.

Even now, looking at him across the great hall, you can still remember his touch. You can still practically feel his breath on your skin, your nails in his back. It was pain and comfort all in one. You remember how he’d laid his head in your lap afterwards. You still can’t be sure if the wetness left on your thighs was sweat or if he’d cried while he laid with you.

You cringe at how you had so naively thought that was the end of it. You were his salvation and he’d wake up the next morning and run away with you to the other side, to the right side of the war. But those had been foolish, little girl dreams. And you promised yourself after seeing him exit the train that you wouldn’t get involved with Draco Malfoy again.

So why can’t you stop staring at him?

Maybe because he hasn’t so much as acknowledged your existence yet and that, more than anything, pisses you off even if it shouldn’t. Despite your vow to yourself, you crave him talking to you, looking at you, noticing you’re alive for Merlin’s sake! Instead, you feel like you’ve been completely invisible to him. While this clearly made it easier to not get involved, it bothers you. He’s taking away your choice to be rid of him which is just rude.

Fingers snap in front of your face.

“Do you just want to hex him and be done with it?” Ginny asks next to you, a ghost of a smile on her lips. One positive of this year; the voluntary segregation of sitting with your house had been all but completely abandoned, allowing you to sit with the very few friends you have. “You could probably do it with minimal punishment.”

“I don’t want to hex him,” you argue softly, forcing your eyes back down to the plate in front of you. Ginny raises an eyebrow at you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes!” You let out a huff and poke the food with your fork. “No. Maybe a little bit,” you admit. She nudges your shoulder with her own and sighs sympathetically. Ginny was never someone you thought you’d end up close with, but after staying with her family during the war, she’d become practically like your sister. She’s a better friend than you’d ever had before. Probably better than you deserve too.

“Have you spoken to him?” She keeps her voice quiet amongst the chatter in the hall. You look at her, full of irrational guilt, and shake your head in the smallest fashion you can. “Maybe you should.” You look back to him and remember the way he felt on top of you, whispering your name and the way your legs wrapped around his waist. But then, just as suddenly, you’re hit with the memory of him walking away from you in the middle of the night with a hollowness in your chest.

“I think that’s the last thing I need to do.” You force yourself to stop looking at him throughout the rest of your meal and attempt to join into jovial conversation at the table.

Fate, however, seemed to have heard your words and thusly thrust her middle finger out to you, because Draco is suddenly everywhere. It was inevitable that you run into each other, after all, you had classes together, but he still seems to be within your eyesight an excessive amount; sitting right in front of you during lessons, resting under your favorite tree, always managing to be where you can see his face during meals. Your only reprieve is your common room which you’ve taken to staying in during most of your free time.

Going strictly to and from classes and meals has become tiresome though. You’re starting to feel like you’re back in hiding and can feel a darkness creeping in. You don’t have an abundance of friends at Hogwarts. Or anywhere really. The loneliness threatens to eat away at you sometimes, but you keep it at bay by keeping your nose in your books; a coping skill you’ve become entirely too proficient at executing.

But today you venture out, book in hand, hoping to find a quiet place with a little background noise to read. A change of scenery and a breath of air may help the frayed nerves you haven’t been able to shake these last weeks. Your feet carry you to the library almost without any thought. It had been among one of the first areas rebuilt and reconstructed after the war and though they built it much the same as it had been, it had a distinctively new feel to it.

It’s a bit of a bustle with people, mostly first and second years who think studying is still the most important thing they can do. Idiots, you think. You walk around for a little bit, admiring the fresh wooden tables and shelves, before gravitating towards a back corner. There used to be a couple of chairs in a back row of books by the muggle section that no one ever frequented. With any luck, it might still exist.

Fate smiles down on you, but it’s a wicked smile because yes, your little nook is still there, but so is Draco. He sits in the armchair in plain clothes, an elbow on the armrest, and his face propped up on his fist as he stares down at the book in his lap. His platinum hair falls into his eyes, yet he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He looks so ordinary, like he could be any man in the world and it irks you in a way you can’t put into words. He’s not ordinary. He’s not any man. He’s Draco Malfoy.

You stare long enough for him to sense it and look up from his book. And for what feels like for the first time all year, he looks at you. He freezes for just a moment, as though he’s shocked or perhaps scared at the sight of you. Then in a blink it’s gone, replaced by a softer tone in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, his voice a rush of warm nostalgia. He closes his book. “I can leave.” Even though you’re negatively shaking your head, he gathers the bag at his feet and stands.

“It’s alright,” you try to tell him. “I’ll just go somewhere else.” He’s already standing up in front of you, ready to slink past. There’s an urge to reach out and grab his arm. You repress it.

“No, it’s fine. You like this spot.” He says it so quickly and his eyes flitter to anything but your face as he passes. Before you can try to say anything else, he’s disappeared beyond more shelves of books, completely out of view.

You’re left standing there looking after him feeling entirely unsatisfied and empty with the interaction. You can’t put your finger on or voice what you wanted to happen, but that certainly wasn’t it.

Sighing, you concede to do what you had come for. Even that proves to be too difficult because when you settle into the chair, it’s still soft with his imprint and warm with his body heat. It gives you the barest sensation of having him wrapped around you. It reminisces more than it should of that too-long-hug you shared before he’d kissed you for the first time. The memories washing over you make it too difficult to focus on the words in your book. You snap it shut and leave. The common room is clearly the better place to stay.

~~~

All of your interactions after that are all short and insignificant. He’s always there, but never looks your way. If he does have to speak to you, it’s always in a minimal way. It never fails to leave you frustrated and angry. Even your books aren’t easing your tension like they used to.

It's been nearly a full month now and throwing yourself into your studies hasn’t helped you any either. You’ve practically finished the coursework for half of your classes. Your homework is done well before you wish to go to sleep for the evening. You haven’t set foot outside the castle walls. You have so few friends, no family, and no one who can relate to your troubles. And the one person you’d counted on your whole life, your best friend and the boy you would have done almost anything for, barely even looks at you.

The suffocation of it all comes in the darkness of night. It crushes down on your chest and burns on your arm. Your fucking arm. You’ve scrubbed it. You’ve concealed it. You even went so far as to try to cut the skin off. Nothing works. That skull and snake are with you forever. And everyone knows it.

Some nights you can’t take it. You can’t merely lay in your bed and pretend sleep will come peacefully. So you leave your room. You wander the castle, trying to find those places that bring warmth to your heart and avoid those were people died.

Tonight, you go to the courtyard just to look at the stars. There’s something soulful about the sky. It’s where muggles look to when they pray to a higher power. It holds a universe more expansive than you could ever imagine. It could swallow you whole if you let it or maybe, just maybe one day it will show you how to be happy.

You forcibly don’t recognize that laying in grass and looking up at the sky had been something you and Draco used to do together. It works well enough to let you enjoy the activity again by yourself, but it blinds you to the idea that Draco might be doing the same thing.

You shouldn’t have been so surprised when you reach the courtyard and he’s there, leaning back on the fountain and staring upwards, but you are. When your shoe crunches on the gravel, his head snaps to you and with his own surprise, stands up.

Another short apology. Another move for a quick exit in the opposite direction of you. Your fists clench at your sides, unable to bottle in your anger any longer.

“Oh would you shove off with that?” you snap before he can slip back into the shadows. He turns and raises an eyebrow at you. “I was ready,” you tell him angrily. “I was ready to come back this year and hate you. I was ready to avoid you and shoot you pissed off glares from across the room. Then I get here and you avoid me!” His face puzzles for a moment.

“So you want me to try to talk to you so that you can tell me off?” A little bit of his old self, of the Draco you once knew and loved, comes through in an irritated eye roll. “Sorry to disappoint.” You let out a huff of air and cross your arms.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The puzzled look on his face returns.

“The way you’re reacting right now doesn’t answer that question for you?” He tilts his head and hums mockingly. “Not as smart as I thought you were.”

“Smarter than you are, clearly.” He grinds his jaw at your condescension and then he’s walking up to you, getting closer than he’s been all year and your bravery falters for a moment as your feet step you back and your arms uncross to hang useless by your sides.

“That’s why I haven’t approached you. I don’t need another lecture. I’ve been to trial. I’m on probation. I’ve had everything I’ve ever done wrong put out in front of me in excruciating detail. I don’t need you to give me another run through.” His eyes and his tone are cold, hard. You recognize it all too well and while he’s gotten better at hiding it, you can still see the pain underneath. It tries to soften you, but ultimately fails.

“They shouldn’t have let you come back,” you spit at him, instantly regretting the words when he pulls away. You don’t mean it. Of course you don’t mean it, but you say it with enough venom and hate that he believes it.

“We all made mistakes,” he hisses at you before glancing down to your arm. The heat of his stare practically stings and you have to resist that instinctive pull to hide it away. “I hear you’re the shining example everyone uses to demonstrate that not all bad guys hail from Slytherin, even despite the fact that you changed sides in the end.” The only reason you don’t crack your palm over his cheek is because you give in to the need to hold onto your left forearm tightly, your palm now busy cradling the skull of the Dark Mark underneath your shirt sleeve. “How’s that feel?”

“You’re horrid,” you tell him weakly. He tilts his head again.

“That is what everyone says.” He gives a shrug that tries too hard to be casual and finally steps out of your personal space. With a small shake of his head, he turns to leave again, but you refuse to let him get the last word.

“At least I tried to atone!” you call after him. He pauses, but doesn’t look back. “I did the right thing when it mattered!”

“And where did that get you?” he asks bitterly. “Where did it get your family?” You suck in a harsh breath and try desperately to hold back the tears that are abruptly burning behind your eyes. Dead, you think. It got them killed.

“They made their own choices.” It sounds rehearsed because it is. You told yourself those same words over and over again every night for months. Your parents weren’t good people. You knew that. They were still your parents though and when you heard He’d killed them, it hurt more than you want to admit. And Draco knew that. Draco knows your weaknesses and your soft spots and just how to twist a knife into you. Perhaps that’s why you hated him so much.

“You don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” He still hasn’t even so much as looked over his shoulder back at you.

“Fine,” you answer curtly, your hand still wringing around your forearm. When he leaves, you allow yourself to crumple onto the ground and cry. You feel so much hollower than the last time he’d left you in tears. Back then, the air had practically crackled with tension and death and war. Now the air is silent, calm and that makes it all the more unsettling. All the more finite.

~~~

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[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH01

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: There’s none in this. Maybe a sprinkle of angst.

WC: 2567

A/N: So here we have a new series. If you know my writing, you’d know that I always write such a slow build. This one won’t be any different. Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback. 

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

Shit, shit, shit. 

She’s going to be late, so fucking late! 

Y/N hastily slips into her shoes, does a final check of her reflection in the mirror before she gets out of her apartment and hires a taxi. It’s not like she can afford it with the high rent in the city, but she can’t risk getting late into work because her boss would be beyond pissed and she’d like to avoid being at the receiving end of his wrath right at the start of her week. 

She’s still panting when she sits in the taxi. If she hadn’t been lost in thoughts and wanted to finish reading her damn novel while she drank her coffee, maybe then she wouldn’t have spilled it all over herself and wouldn’t have had to change into something else and she wouldn’t have been late. 

Mr. Winchester will be so pissed.

He’s known for firing people, exchanging them for someone who would be gone in under a week's time. She’s actually surprised that she made it this long. It’s almost a year now that she became one of his office assistants and while it’s a good job and a good paying one too, she thinks it’s fucking challenging. She needs that job and she can’t afford to get fired. Jack, her brother, is still in college and she needs to help him, since she and Jack — well, that’s all the family that’s still left. 

She quickly types out a text to Jack when she sees the taxi rounding up to her office building. 

 Y/N: Cross your fingers. I’m late. I hope I won’t get fired.

J: Oh, no. I’m crossing my toes, too! You got it, sis!

 Alright. She takes a deep breath, gets out and pays the driver before she takes the elevator up to her floor. 

Arriving on the floor, she already hears someone yelling. The voice is deep, gravelly, it can only belong to one person that she knows of. He’s also the only one who’s allowed to yell around here, actually. 

Walking over to her desk, she sits down and starts up her computer. She hopes that by acting normal, nobody would know that she’s thirty minutes late, and she doesn’t even have a good explanation should someone ask. She couldn’t even lie about it because she’s an awful liar.

Mr. Winchester hates tardiness. She once watched him firing someone who was five minutes late. 

She doesn’t know what’s wrong with Mr. Winchester sometimes. Like, he’s all professional but every time she has to work with him, he acts all grumpy. After a year of repeatedly watching him being his grumpy self around her, she can’t help but think that he doesn’t really like her at all. But again, if he doesn’t like her, why didn’t he fire her already?

“Go away! You’re fired!” 

Oh god, it’s not even 9am and he’s already firing people. She sees Adam walk past her desk, his head low. Awe, that’s sad. She quite liked Adam. How long has he been here? About seven months? God, she wishes that she had the balls to stand up to that jerk Winchester.

Mr. Winchester walks out of his office and right into her view. She ducks her head, pretends to look occupied, which she actually is because she’s now logged in and skims through her emails. There are several of Mr. Winchester from this morning and she looks at the time stamps. 6.45am, 6.57am, 7.12am, 7.34am, 8.01am, 8.02am, 8.03am, 8.04am, 8.05am, 8.06am, 8.13am, 8.16am, 8.24am, 8.26am. 

Shit.

She’s going to get fired for sure. Say bye to your college degree, Jack.

His footsteps echo in the quiet office and it comes to a halt at her desk.

Uh-oh.

Y/N doesn’t dare to look up.

“Where were you?” Mr. Winchester snarls. 

“I— uh,” She stammers, and then she looks up at him. His suit is neat, the scruff a little longer than usual, and he looks tired because his eyes aren’t as green as they usually are, which is a good thing because she always tends to get lost in them if she stares at them for too long, “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“I want to see you in my office,” He hisses, “And while you’re at it, get me a coffee, alright?” He turns around, walks back, but stops and tilts his head back again, “Please.” With that, he’s off into his office and slams the door shut. 

Hey, at least he said please, right?

Ruby looks up at her from her computer, “My god, what’s wrong with that guy? Can you believe that he’s one of the hottest bachelors of the year according to some magazines? The voters surely haven’t ever seen him like this.”

“Shush, Ruby,” Y/N says, “What if he has bat ears?” Really, she wouldn’t be surprised if he has.

Ruby does that locking motion with her hand on her lips. 

“But someone surely has got out of the wrong side of the bed.” She says, and adds, “I thought he spent the weekend in Vegas for that meeting? Didn’t it go well?”

“It did, apparently, but who knows,” Ruby shrugs, “Anyway, if I were you, I would go grab that coffee quick, Y/N. I don’t want him firing you.”

“Shit, right!” She gets up and storms into the break room to get the coffee and speeds back on her heels to Mr. Winchester’s office door, almost trips once but she managed to  save herself gracefully.

She knocks and enters, and to her surprise, someone else is in the room as well. 

Sam Winchester, the company’s lawyer and brother to Dean Winchester. 

Sam stands by the window, looking out into the streets while her boss is hunched over his desk, his forehead on his arms. 

Something’s wrong and she’s afraid to ask what it is. So instead of asking, she steps in, “Your coffee, sir.”

“Huh,” Mr. Winchester looks up from his desk, “Yeah, thanks. Please take a seat, Y/N.”

Hesitantly, she walks closer, clears her throat as she sets the coffee on his desk, and sits down, “Mr. Winchester, please, whatever it is, I promise that I won’t make the same mistake again. My being late today was really an accident, I spilled coffee over myself and had to change my clothes, it’ll never happen again, please. I need this job.”

“Jesus, Y/N, relax!” Mr. Winchester groans, and Sam Winchester looks at his brother with amusement in his eyes, “My head’s hurting. Shut up, please? You won’t get fired, I promise.”

“Oh,” 

“In fact, I have a proposition for you.” Mr. Winchester stands up and walks around to her side of the desk, leaning against it, “I want you to be my fake wife.”

She frowns, thinks that she hasn’t heard him right, “What?”

“Look, I’m not really happy about it either,” He starts to say, and she frowns some more for fucking good measure.

“Wow, thanks,” Y/N huffs out, “What a great compliment.”

“No! Christ!” Mr. Winchester rubs over his scruff with his fingers. The scratching sound is loud in the otherwise quiet room, “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Why do you want me to do that?”

“Yeah, why, Dean?” Sam cuts in and he starts to chuckle, which prompts Dean to send his brother a glare. 

“Shut up, Sammy.”

He turns back to her, “Look, the meeting in Vegas went well, alright? I got Chuck Shurley to let me buy shares of his company. The thing is, after the dinner, we went for a drink, and next thing I know, I was married to his fucking sister.”

Y/N really tries not to laugh, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Winchester scoffs.

“So, did you get ordained by Elvis or something?” 

“Y/N! Jesus! Focus!” He yells, which made her flinch, “I’m married and now she wants at least a quarter of what I own if I want to annul the marriage. She fucking set me up, but I can’t really prove it.”

“Amara Shurley is a very beautiful and rich woman,” She shrugs, because it’s true. Every guy wants to be with her, she wonders why Mr. Winchester doesn’t. 

“Your point being?” He raises an eyebrow at her, “Just because she’s beautiful doesn’t mean that I have to want to be with her, does it?”

“No, sir. But I’m wondering why you want me to pretend to marry you when you are already married?”

“We can show Amara another marriage certificate, one that says that we married a month ago, right Sammy?” Mr. Winchester asks his brother, but his eyes are on her. 

“That’s right. It’s already signed by all parties. All you have to do is sign it. I’m waiting for the court dates as we speak,” Sam Winchester says and shows her the apparent very important piece of paper.

There are signatures of Mr. Winchester. His brother and Ruby as witnesses. Ruby? Fucking Ruby? Oh my god, and she didn’t even warn her!

“Ruby’s your friend besides work too, isn’t she?” Mr. Winchester asks. 

“Yeah,” Y/N nods.

“Good,” Mr. Winchester says, and adds, “What do you say? Would you do me the honor of becoming my fake wife?”

Her mouth stands slightly agape, she blinks, “This is stupid. Why would you do that? It’s not even legal, is it? Why me?”

“I’m pretty desperate, as you can tell,” Mr. Winchester answers short. And it hurts. It hurts damn bad. Not that she expects anything less. And then he goes on, “Look, I know that it’s a big breach into your privacy but I can guarantee you that you’ll get rewarded for it. I’ll pay you double and you don’t even have to work while you’re married to me.”

But she likes to work! Well, yeah, sometimes he can be a dick but she actually really likes to work. She doesn’t say it, though. Instead, she asks, “How long do we need to be married for?” 

“Six months.” Sam Winchester cuts in.

“Six-what?!”

“Yeah, that’s the only way it won’t look suspicious.” 

“Ah, great. Because we don’t want that, do we? We don’t even live together! I don’t know you! This is going too far.” She’s mad. Can’t lie about it.

“Y/N, please. You’re the only one that I know who doesn’t get irritated by my mood. You know how I like my coffee, you know where I like to eat out, you know my schedule, you’re the only one who really knows me here!”

Sam Winchester clears his throat.

“Calm down, Sammy, alright!” Mr. Winchester rolls his eyes. 

She bites her bottom lip, thinks hard about it. It’s not like she can not not agree to it. It’s double pay for six months! Jack could finish his degree. But she asks anyway, “What are the conditions?”

“I have the contract ready, too,” Sam Winchester says, and hands it to her, while she begins to read it, he goes on, “You’re going to live with Dean as of today,” The younger Winchester says matter of factly.

“Today?” She stands up so abruptly, the chair screeches along the floor, which makes everyone in the room flinch, and Mr. Winchester’s hand goes to his temple. “Sorry,” She whispers.

“Yeah, today. You’ve been married for one month, think it’s time you move in together, no?” Sam grins.

“Okay, and what else?” Y/N crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Monogamy.” The taller Winchester smirks, “No sex or flirting with anyone else for the next six months.”

“What?” Mr. Winchester scoffs, “You didn’t tell me that, Sammy!”

Sam Winchester just shrugs, “I mean, it actually goes without saying. You’re married, that’s what married couples do when they’re in love, being faithful. At least in the first six months I’d hope so.”

Mr. Winchester rubs over his scruff again. He does that a lot when he’s thinking. After a short while he looks at her, “Okay, I can do that, can you?”

How can she say that it's a piece of cake for her because she doesn’t have a healthy social life anyway? All she’s been doing is working and sleeping for a year now. But of course she doesn’t say it. Instead, she says, “I can,” and looks at her boss smugly and he cocks her an eyebrow.

“So that we’re clear, you’re going to act like a lovey dovey couple for the next six month.” Her boss’s brother states.

“Yes,” Mr. Winchester and her say it in unison.

“Great,” Sam Winchester hands her a pen, “If you could just sign here and here, Y/N.” He points to the places on the certificate and contract.

She signs the documents and the taller Winchester puts it away into his case. “Right, I’ll see you guys around,” he calls out before leaving.

“So, Mr. Winchester—”

“—Please call me Dean. We’re married now.” He lets out a tired chuckle.

“Right,” She sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry about it, alright? I’m not out to make your life miserable but maybe if we work on it together it’ll be half as bad as it seems right now?”

“Maybe, yeah.” She agrees. “So, what do you want me to do?”

“You go home and pack your things. I’ll send Gabe to pick you up and bring you to my penthouse.”

Penthouse. How fancy. 

“And don’t worry, the rent for your apartment will be covered.”

“Okay,” 

She walks out of the office with a weird feeling in her guts. When she arrives at her desk Ruby’s grinning.

“You fucking knew!” Y/N hisses at her friend.

“Oh, come on,” The other girl huffs out, “What’s so bad about being married to the hottest bachelor in the business world?”

Well, Ruby’s actually not entirely wrong, but he’s her boss. It will always be awkward. 

“Ask me again in six months, will you?” She says, shuts off her computer and is about to leave when Ruby eyes her, “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to go pack my things.”

“Why?”

She sighs, “Well, I have to go live with him now.”

“You what?!” Ruby damn near squealed.

“Shhh!” She hushes her friend and looks around, smiles when she sees Donatello looking over here with one raised eyebrow, “You know that you can’t talk about it, right? You probably signed a contract.” She doesn’t really know it but given how Sam Winchester is good at what he’s doing, she guesses that they cover Dean’s ass thoroughly. Not that she wouldn’t mind covering that ass herself...

Focus, Y/N! 

“Yeah, I signed something. I didn’t read it  because damn, that young Winchester is yummy. I’d like to climb him like a fucking tree.” 

Great.

“My god Ruby, you should always read what you sign!” 

“In my defense, I was lost in his dimples, okay? Anyway, it’s good if you live with him, no? You can see if he really has a stick up his ass when you walk in on him showering or something like that.”

“Oh my god, I need to leave.” She grabs her bag and walks to the elevator when Ruby makes kissy faces at her. She sticks out her tongue and in that moment, Dean walks out of his office and frowns at her. 

Monday has just started fucking great, hasn’t it?

CH02

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Well, that was cold

I have mod that makes diseases actually dangerous. (actually several of them and they’re all listed here on Pleasant Sims’ modlist)

The first rotation? Everything’s fine. The only one who fell ill was John Burb and he, as a family Sim, was able to soup himself to health in no time.

The second rotation... Ajaj Loner got sick.

With cold.

I was like, “I know flu is pretty dangerous with this mod but cold should be fine, right? I mean, I used to have it four times a year. So glad it’s not flu!”

I thought I was lucky.

I wasn’t.

After Ajaj’s turn ended, he was free to wander around and spread the cold everywhere.

Because they have chemistry and she was on a prowl, I even had Nina Caliente seduce Ajaj. She got the cold but I was like whatever, she’s a strong quasi-alien, running nose for a few days won’t kill her!

How fatally wrong I was I realized during a vacation that Nina went on with her sister and Ajaj. She was just chilling, sleeping in her hotel room, when all of the sudden, Grim Reaper!

You sure, Dina?

Nina was dead. Dead from the cold. And she was pregnant, no less!

I reloaded because it was on a vacation and Nina was the only playable Sim, so I was quite worried what would become of the grave. I managed to get her home and moved Chloe Curious in, so that someone can eventually plead for her. She was lucky the second time around and survived. Chloe got infected but survived as well.

But we had an epidemic on our hands now. Ajaj and Nina have been quite successful generously sharing their cold all across the hood and I failed to keep track of who has it.

Still, I thought it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t understand the scale, I was still thinking that it was just Ajaj, Consort Capp and the Pleasants.

Again, I was wrong.

When I got in the rotation to the Capps (the Capps 1), everyone was infected. I was still optimistic, though, because we were talking about a household where 2/4 Sims are Family and one is a Family Secondary, they can bathe in the soup!

The teens ate their soup and survived.

Consort died that night. He was due to die at the end of their round anyway but because he didn’t do so of old age, his grandchildren received no bonus inheritance.

The only one who gained something from that was Olive Specter who was delighted to see Consort, her crush, perish, so she could finally raise him as a zombie.

Unfortunately I couldn’t find a screenshot of her actually raising him, so here’s at the very least Olive walking menacingly to work.

Anyway, moving onto the Capps again (the Capps 2, Goneril edition), things looked bleak. Goneril was pregnant and she and all the kids were infected. Albany was immediately called to action to generate enough soup but the house devolved into utter chaos. Everybody had their soup but just as they recovered, they got infected again!

Ok, I was thinking, Consort was quite old and fragile. Nina must’ve had the cold for a long time, given she was on a vacation. There’s no way the kids are gonna die on the first day they got infected. They had the soup, so I’ll send them to beds, so they can get a good-night sleep and enough rest.

Nope.

Ariel, a child, died in her sleep.

Nobody was able to get to her in time to plead for her.

While I was contemplating an in-character way of resurrection, Desdemona, a young teen, died in her sleep just about two hours after her sister.

Again, nobody was fast enough.

Luckily, Miranda was already in college and she was roommates with Ophelia Nigmos, who was in possession of a genie lamp she was safeguarding from Olive. Hearing about the tragedy that befell her friend’s family, moved by the death of a little girl and her not much older sister, Ophelia the Family Sim offered Miranda the lamp on the spot.

Miranda rushed home to drop off the lamp and then ran off so she doesn’t get infected. Well, she did anyway but since I haven’t played the college Sims yet, I don’t know of her fate.

Hal made a good use of the lamp. He rolled the wants to resurrect both his sisters and that’s exactly what he did.

He triumphantly finished making the wishes...

And dropped dead.

Another young soul succumbed to cold.

But! Since there was still a wish left and his sisters were back alive, Desdemona swiftly brought him back.

Ariel’s and Hal’s resurrections were perfect.

Desdemona’s was faulty, so her personality got reversed.

But as long as they’re alive and preferably not zombies, everything will do.

The Capps were all cured! Hooray!

Wait. Not all Capps. There was still Regan’s branch and, predictably, they were all infected. And this time, there was no Family Sim in sight.

The only non-infected Sim in the family was a little toddler. The poor, poor child was in for a life-long trauma.

Kent went quick and quiet the first night of their round. Regan fortunately recovered. Cornwall did too. They had a very lucky start of the round all together, I may add. Kent’s tragic death was followed by Regan’s demotion that lead to her subsequent want to quit her job (...and she was the only one who was making any significant money), then Cornwall set the house on fire while cooking breakfast, then he got fired.

Poor thing. First got house-fired, then job-fired.

Regan’s LTW was to reach the top of the Law career, so she got herself a new job there. On her first day, she got promoted!

And she brought home a friend! Sweet!

No... nooooo...

It was Ajaj F*ckin’ Loner.

Both Regan and Cornwall got infected before you could say “act your surname and social-distance, you jerk!”

Cornwall died almost immediately. Unfortunately, Regan was asleep and failed to get up and ambush the Grim Reaper in time.

On the bright side, she recovered!

So I watch her go to work, the nanny arrives to baby-sit the toddler, everything seems to finally have settled down.

But then I spot an unexpected movement in the house.

It’s Titania Summerdream. Who let her in? I have no idea.

It would be quite sweet of her to check on her friend Regan after she lost two family members and to help with her young daughter.

If... if she didn’t have the fricking cold!

Regan returned from work and I rushed to have her send Titania away.

Of damn course she didn’t go before giving the cold to Regan.

Now it was the third time Regan got infected and there were no other family members to take care of the toddler if she dies. It was very suspenseful. I decided to use extreme measures and I teleported Albany in, made him selectable and had him cook the soup.

Instead of that, he proceeded to bicker with Regan.

If he got re-infected, I swear...

Anyway, after a three tries or so, Regan got her soup and Albany was on his merry way away.

What a relief! I sent Regan to sleep, trusting the soup to do its magic. The next morning her needs all looked great! No notification yet but I was sure it’s gonna arrive any second. When suddenly...

Yeap, she died.

Regan Capp died the way she lived. Paying her family’s bills.

I used Simblender again to quickly move in Hal. He was there in time to plead for Regan!

And for the first time in the Capp household, he actually made it! He pleaded!

And... and... lost.

So I had him stay to take care of the toddler until their round was over. Then I moved them both back with Goneril’s branch.

At the very least young Ione, the genius toddler with maxed Logic skill, got something resembling a birthday party with her cousin and his boyfriend Alexander Goth.

Given that Montys had their losses as well, the cold has already taken out much of the adult population of Veronaville.

The only two adults left (not counting fresh elders Albany and Goneril) in Veronaville were in fact the Summerdreams who were extremely lucky and with an abundance of soup, they survived.

To be completely honest, I’m very happy with the mod. I tend to play large hoods and although it tends to be rather tragic, the occasional epidemic of cold trims the population down a bit without me killing anybody off and it gives the game an additional bit of challenge and randomness.

...or maybe I’m just a sh*tty person to my Sims.

Bonus screenshots of the Strangetown cold outbreak:

Vidcund Curious spent two nights sleeping in a chair in his children’s bedroom because he was afraid they’re going to die from the cold in their sleep and wanted to be there to plead for them. In the end it actually happened, he pleaded and managed to save his daughter.

The Smiths had to be unfortunately visited by the Therapist. PT9 died on the day he was supposed to die of old age but hours prior, he became yet another victim of the cold. And it was very unlucky, since it meant no inheritance and by the Watcher, Jenny and their 5 kids could definitely use it. They were completely broke.

But not everything was morbid and tragic!

Lazlo rolled quite the unexpected want to get married to his girlfriend, Cassandra Goth. They weren’t engaged, she wasn’t pregnant, he’s not a Family secondary, and the date they were on wasn’t even in the stage Sims usually roll engagement wants, he simply rolled it out of the blue. And of course I went with it! (Cassandra had recently divorced Don, rolling the wish to remarry almost immediately.)

The only family in the hood that could technically mass-produce medicine so that not everyone is dependent on the soup, the Beakers, of course didn’t. Why would they risk their hides, toying with the Mysterious Disease, when they didn’t have to? Instead, they social-distanced and spent the rotation raking in promotions and taking care of their army of children. (Loki kept rolling wants to get abducted and ARC wasn’t kind to them either. But with Loki being Family secondary and Circe leaving most of the parenting on him anyway, I don’t think they mind.)

Note the alien toddler, the second youngest child. He has 10 Nice points. That’s 4 points more than all 5 of his siblings and his parents combined. He’s gonna have a rough childhood, the poor thing.

Jill Smith managed to get nibbled on by the pack leader just in time, a few days before going to college. She’s thrilled by her new wolf-y powers! And regardless of what her mother says, she knows the fur goes with her school uniform just perfectly!

Rachel Pleasant, the youngest offspring of Daniel that he knows about (the second youngest overall), aged up into a child! And judging by the look on her face, she already knows how much of a mess her family is.

Not even being brought back from the dead made Desdemona Capp immune to the Summerdream charm. Bottom, the young Romance Sim, invited her girlfriend to hang out in their hot tub. It was an afternoon to remember for both of them.

Local ageing general married a successful young athlete, Kristen Loste. Unfortunately for everyone attending the wedding, the bride’s former roommate Chloe Curious decided that flirting with her literally the next interaction after Kristen said, “I do.” was a smart idea. No need to add that the wedding cake was left to rot forgotten, never cut. It was a sad wedding cake but even though it started to stink around two hours after the wedding, it still lasted longer than the marriage.

And far away in La Fiesta Tech, two estranged siblings were talking things out and healing their relationship.

Now I lost this hood (again) and started a new one, so the next gameplay post will probably feature the same characters in completely different circumstances and nothing is going to make sense but... what does anyway?

[sabineelectricheart]

Mumbling in German

Summary: Victor had a request for Lupin, but Cardia will not let him get away with that so easily.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1000

Notes: Alemannic German, of which Swiss German is a variant, was (and still is) widely considered to be an inferior language, an accent of poor, unrefined, uneducated people. The standard for the German language was the Bavarian German, spoken in and around Ingolstadt, the main university city in the HRE up to the 17th Century.

"So, you'll ask her for me, then?" Victor asked Lupin, the pale green eyes glistening with hope behind the thick glasses.

"I don't know why you can't just do it yourself, man. I mean, the worst she can do is say no." Lupin pointed out with a non-committed shrug.

The chemist flushed, as his stomach began knotting and he opened his mouth to utter some sort of response that would save some sort of his dignity.

"That being said…" Lupin reiterates, trying to keep Victor from imploding on himself over nerves. "I guess I can make you a solid this time. Yeah, I'll ask her for you."

At this time, it was a bit of an open secret that their in-house experimental scientist had his sights on Cardia Beckford for a while. Lupin understands that, he can see where it comes from. Their whole friend group was interested in the girl at one time or another, but Victor…

Well, the pickpocket wonders if it is too demeaning to compare him to a baby chick, stumbling through the relationship side of things like a bird coming out of its egg. Everything seemed like an unsurmountable challenge, and it actually is quite hard when you regularly devolve into unintelligible mumbling in a grotesque Alemannic German every time you feel ill at ease.

Alas, contrary to him and the rest, the chemist never managed to mature his feelings for the girl, and, honestly, it was getting a little ridiculous at this point. If Cardia was not so out of touch sometimes, she would have probably noticed the train-sized collegiate crush he had for her.

Victor sighed in relief. "Thanks Lupin! I owe you!"

The brunet chuckles with a flaunt of his hands. “Fear not, young man. Arsène Lupin, the great gentleman thief, will provide you with the answer!”

*_*_*_*_*

This exchange had been over three days ago, and Victor was starting to become restless with his friend’s silence.

She probably said no and Lupin is trying to find a way to tell me gently. The chemist weighed. I wonder if it’s too late to return to Zurich or if I ought to consider something further away. New York? Cape Town? Hong Kong?

To be fair, Lupin had said that he would provide him with an answer, he neglected to mention when he would do so.

Trying to get his mind off of things, Victor is reading some unremarkable book on medicine at the library, hoping to be left alone until he is certain of his dark, dark fate.

Yeah, Hong Kong is mighty good.

Suddenly, his relative peace and silence are disturbed when the intricate French doors to the room open and onward comes the reason for his dismay.

"Hi, Victor!" Cardia said as she slid into a well-stuffed, tasteful armchair next to the young chemist, near to a side table and a kerosene lamp. "How have you been?"

"I am as I’ve always been.” He tries to respond on an even, calm voice he used with his odd patients. “I'm just studying, Saint-Germain brought some new journals from Paris this week. How are you?"

"Nothing new happening on your life at all?" Cardia questioned with an amused smile, as if faced by a comedic number.

"Err… no…" Victor said hesitantly.

"Are you sure?" Cardia persisted.

Victor started to blush and squirm under Cardia's intense gaze. She knows, he jumped to conclusions on his mind. She knows and she is going to toy with me before she turns me down, she is going to toy with me for a laugh.

The young man started to devolve into panic. He stared back at her smiling face as his mind continued to race. Maybe she does not know. I am just overreacting. I just need to calm down.

"No. Nothing new." Victor said, trying to stop his blush.

"Hmm…” The brunette tutted. “Nothing you, uh, wanted to ask me?"

Scheisse! Victor thought as his stomach flipped over. Several seconds, which felt like hours to him, passed in a blind panic before he calmed enough to realize that Cardia would never tease him like this if she were only going to turn him down, to try to compose an intelligible answer to her question.

Victor's face turned as red as the Saint George Cross as he fought to find to his tongue.

"Well, err… Yes…" he started. "I… Ich… Ich wollte nur… Ich nehme an… Wenn es dir nichts ausmacht…"

Cardia smiled encouragingly at him, even if she did not understand half of what he was saying, and he went on in a rush.

"I was wondering if you would not like to go out with me!" He finished almost shouting and looked down at his journals, hoping she would not burst out laugh at him. “Oder so…”

God, Victor wanted for the ground to open and swallow him whole. Not only he just had to open up his big, fat mouth, but the words to come out had to be in German, a language he is quite confident she did not speak. A heavily-accented Swiss German, at that.

In the depths of his mind, he knows he defaults to his mother language whenever he gets nervous, as it was hard to maintain the English accent while he was so deep into his catastrophic thoughts and fears, and therefore it was comprehensible, even acceptable. However, such a behaviour did not put his mind at ease, as it certainly did not help him put his best foot forward, not when it makes him sound like a cheese-smelling peasant.

Cardia debated asking him to repeat himself a little slower or with an indoor voice, but she did not suppose the man would be able to stand anymore teasing. It was best to take him out of his misery.

"I’d love to." She replied with a grin. “How about we go to the British Museum on Saturday?”

Victor smiled with relief could only think of one thing to say. "Ja."

*_*_*_*_*

Code: Realize Masterlist

[sherlollydramoine]

Detroit

Prompt 15: “not interested, thank you”

Fandom: Rami Malek/Need for Speed Movie

Pairing: Finn X Reader

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: Language, Alcohol consumption, Predatory Male Character (don’t worry–he gets his), Fist fight.

Here’s the follow up that was much requested to Broken Promises (HERE). Didn’t have time to edit this so please don’t mind my mistakes.

It had been just over a year since you’d walked out of his life away from everything that you’d ever know to start fresh. A good friend of yours from college worked for some big time corporation in Detroit whom upon hearing about what had happened and your need to start fresh had recommended you for a position. Everything was a blur after the interview having been basically hired on the spot and you needed to move quickly. The company itself owned several apartment buildings and was able to provide you housing for six months until you’d been able to secure one on your own. They’d been generous in allowing you three weeks to start, which enabled you to gather the remnants of your life with Finn, and put them on a truck.

You’d been unable to face him without feeling some kind of guilt. You did just walk out offering no explanation, after angrily expressing your frustration with his broken promises. Once you’d left there was no going back for you, you’d purposely fallen out of touch with everyone to avoid any updates on Finn. 

“Hey, YN, boss needs you to run some files down to the second office,” your co-worker and roommate Alicia informed you as she perches herself on the corner of your desk crossing her legs over each other, her heel clacking against the faux wooden front of your desk. You kept clacking away at the business email you’d needed to finish typing, hitting spell check, then sending it off to digital transmission land.

Looking up at her nodding your head, you hated this corporate job with every fiber of your being, but it more than adequately paid your bills. Alicia was the only friend you’d made since your move to Detroit. The two of you bonded quickly over the fact that in the main office of this company, you were only two of three women.

 “Yeah, sure I’ll run em down anyway since I’m out to lunch in about ten minutes anyway. Anybody need anything from the other office while I’m there?” you ask, you hated going down there. The fellas who were employed in the secondary office were far less refined than those on the top floor and were prone to make rude or outright lewd comments. The only man in the other office that never was rude or lewd was the actual office manager Doug, a kind man in his late forties that had a wife and four children.

“I don’t think so. At least no one has said anything to me about it. There is something you could do for me though?”

“Yeah sure Leesh what is it?”

“Could you give me the scoop on one of the newer guys down there? I heard some rumblings that he was gorgeous. Can’t remember his name though, Jen said he was kind of flirty in a goofy way and he talked about cars a lot.”

With a small laugh and a roll of your eyes, you agree to give her the scoop on the new hire, though a small part of you felt sad. That description could fit any number of men but it also aptly described your ex and it made your heartache a little bit. She wasn’t sure what cubicle he was located in but you figured it probably wouldn’t be overly tough to spot them. New hires were easy to spot: Ill-fitting suits, slightly tense, and they never seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Alicia gives you a big smile and then ambles away back towards her desk buzzing her boss to make sure that he had the files ready to go for her. You watch as she disappears into her boss’s office for a couple of minutes reappearing with a stack of manila files in her hand.

“Here ya go, darling. The top six files need to go to HR and then the rest go to Doug. I’ll see you after lunch.”

Pushing back from your desk and standing up, taking a moment to stretch as it had been way too long since you’d seated hunched over a computer answering emails for the last several hours. Taking the files from your friend you trek towards the elevator bank humming a song that had been stuck in your head. Dropping off the necessary files to HR and then getting back on the lift to drop off the last stack downstairs before your lunch break.

“Hey Doug,” you said with a friendly smile. “These are all yours,” you say as you set the large stack of manila folders stuffed to the gills with who knows what paperwork in his ‘INCOMING’ tray.

“Thanks YN, how’s it going upstairs?”

“Oh you know, the same ole same ole. I just do as I’m told,” you laugh out. You start walking back towards the door, “Anyway, I gotta go but let me know if there is anything that you need from upstairs.”

As you walk out of Doug’s office you catch a glimpse of a man with very familiar curly hair and your heart drops. You couldn’t help but stare thinking maybe you’ve hallucinated or if this was really happening. The man must have felt your eyes on him because when he looked up both of you gasped in shock.

You didn’t wait around for him to react instead sprinting down the corridor to the elevator. Trying to calm your breathing as you rode the elevator down to the main level of the building, walking across the marbled floors, and out the door as fast as you could.

What the fuck is he doing here? You thought. How fucking dare he come all the way to Detroit. He has no business being here.

After your second cup of coffee, you came to the realization that It didn’t matter as you likely weren’t going to see each other very often, you could do this. You were an adult after all. Instead of grabbing lunch, you grab another coffee and then head back upstairs to your office deciding to cut your lunch break short.

The rest of your day was spent working furiously not even realizing when it was quitting time until Alicia tapped on your desk with her perfectly manicured nails. 

“Bitch, we’re going out!”

“Do I have to Leesh?”

“Yes, yes, you do. You never did give me the deets on the new guy. Is he as handsome and flirty as Jen said he was?”

“Yeah. He is, he’s also my fucking ex,” you respond dryly, watching her face morph from curious to curiouser. 

Grabbing your bag and following her to the elevator making the quick decision that you’d go out. If there was ever a time when you needed a strong drink and some possible casual sex, it was tonight.

 Alicia ends up taking you to one of your usual spots. As was common for the place it was crowded and loud full of other ‘suits’ wanting a little bit of fun on a Friday night. After scoring you both a prime spot to hang, she flings her bag onto the seat next to you and flounces off. Her red curly hair bouncing as she dances along to the beat of some heavily auto-tuned pop song that was blaring through the speakers. 

Sitting back in your chair watching the random groups of people taking shots, sipping beers, out for nothing but another convivial Friday night.

In your observations, you failed to notice when Finn walked in with a group of co-workers still in his suit and tie. He fidgets nervously with his tie, loosening it while talking to one of your other co-workers.

Just then Alicia re-appeared with a small tray of assorted shots carefully setting it down to avoid sloshing the amber colored liquid over the shot glasses. 

“Uh-oh babe, looks like you’re in for a heck of a time tonight,” she warns, tilting her head in the direction of Finn.

You look up in time to see Finn walk past your table, your eyes briefly catching before you lower yours, grab a drink off the tray, and slam it back. 

“Fuck this night!” you yell out, grabbing another drink and repeating. Twenty minutes and five shots later you were definitely feeling good. 

Grinding against Alicia on the dance floor giggling with each other forgetting all about the issue of your ex being in the same space as you. 

Leaving the dance floor behind under the guise of thirst, Alicia goes back to the table while you grab another round of drinks. While waiting an attractive man you’ve never seen before turns to you to strike up conversation apparently, not really wanting to deal with any of that you turn your body away. Dealing with men right now was not necessarily high on your list of priorities since you were already a few shots deep.

“Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink?” the stranger asks. 

“Not interested, thank you,” was the only thing you could think of to say. Inwardly cringing at how rude that sounded but at the moment you couldn’t be fucked to care.

“C’mon, what could it hurt? It’s just one drink,” he responds with a tone that made you suddenly angry.

“Yeah? One drink? And then what, mister? Then another one, and another until you’ve got me so drunk that you can take me home and use me in whatever way you see fit because somehow I owe you something. No, no, no. I don’t want your fucking drink!” you were yelling now stamping your feet looking very much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a crowded club, and the handsome stranger had the nerve to look pissed off.

“Now gorgeous that-”

“She said no man, why don’t you leave her alone,”a familiar voice sounded from behind you. 

“Oh and what are you gonna do about it pipsqueak?,”the man challenged.

Rolling your eyes at the sudden testosterone fueled fight that you can feel is about to happen.

“Nothing, I’m just letting you know that my girlfriend isn’t interested in your drinks. She’s an independent woman capable of buying her own.”

The bartender returns with your drinks, eyeing both Finn and the stranger, the aggression radiating off of the both of them. It had been a year but you could clearly see Finn with his chin up in definance, shoulders squared, strong arms tense, and fists balled. A stare down between the two until the man in the suit swung at Finn, hitting him square in the side of the head. 

Finn might be to most men considered small but he was tough, having worked as a mechanic for most of his life. He had way more muscle packed under his suit than it looked like he did. 

Finn stumbled backward, hand coming up to the side of his face where the asshole had struck him. Abandoning your drinks in favor of subduing Finn, you launch yourself at him and doing the only thing in the moment that you could think of to do, you press your mouth to his. It only took his brain approximately three seconds for him to go from aggressive to horny.

His arms wrapping around your waist pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, you moan into his mouth giving into the warmth of him. The alcohol you’d consumed making your brain foggy, slowly processing what is happening. You break the kiss without warning hoping that whatever the hell that was, the spark that you had felt would fizzle out. 

Forgetting completely about the drinks you make your way back to your table grabbing your bag ignoring the look on Alicia’s face as you then make your way out of the club in a stunned confusion.

“YN?” you heard Finn call out.

You whirl around, nearly stumbling in your half drunken state, “What Finn?”

“Do you-need some help?” he asks, unsure of how he should proceed.

“You know what, why the fuck not.”

You barely remember walking home with Finn in tow but when you woke up in the morning with Finn still in your bed a slow smile spread across your face. There would be worse ways to wake up on a Saturday morning.