#might post a bunch of them here since who knows if ill ever finish them

[rynpie]

felt the need to doodle lilia

[youdontknowhowtodiequietly]

This is mad long, bare with, or don't lmao

TW's for: References to depression, r*pe, a*use towards women, and a bunch of other women rights related issues. I don't go in depth, but they are very much there. Be careful. Look after your mental health, please. Also a smidgen of spoilers for the Barbie movie at the end.

So, this whole tangent began with the Barbie movie. I've wrote all my thoughts down in a notebook, that's how I know what I'm going to type - vaguely. This will seem insane to have come from the Barbie movie, but I think it will hopefully be coherent. (Not like anyone will read this, lol. I am NOT anywhere near popular enough for this to even get a comment but here we go)

Right. A bit of context to my life. Since I was about 14, I have always felt that I am some sort of trans. For a while I thought I was non-binary, then I thought I was gender-fluid, then (a recent development) I thought I was a guy. So, you can imagine the absolute loop I have been thrown through when I realised that what I might have been feeling is internalised, borderline, misogyny.

Wild right? Let me explain.

Since I was 11, I have repeatedly heard the horrors of being female in this world. The rape/murders that happen on a daily basis. The horrors towards women in the past. The continued disregard for female autonomy. The abuse faced at the hands of people who are supposed to protect us. It's all horrific. Not only this, but I have seen, heard, learnt, about the way society completely destroys women. The lack of acknowledgement for the pain of females', the constant dismissal of mental illnesses, physical illnesses and disabilities (this also happens with males, too, I am aware, especially in the mental health department, but this section of this post is about people with the female anatomy.) The blatant disregard towards women who report abusive partners or stalkers is disgusting. (And that is just in 1st World countries where human rights are supposed to be the best. The horrors that happen in other countries are worse, but I am writing about what I know. I cannot say anything about other countries other than I know that there are some truly atrocious things happening to women in a lot of them because I am not educated on those situations. But believe me, I see it.) I see people AFAB lament the horrors of having the female anatomy. The wish to not have periods, or a uterus at all. The constant pressure put on women to look a certain way all the time. To not be too thin or too fat, not have too much hair but have enough that it doesn't look like you're trying too hard, etc. Honestly, the Gloria speech in Barbie is the best one I have ever heard about what it's like to be a woman. I see people expressing disgust at pregnancies, how they never wish to have one because it'll make them look ugly, or because of the complications that come with it. I have seen it, and do see it, all. For the past 7 years I have seen it all.

Can you imagine how much that has f-ed me up? I'm sure you can, because I'm sure it's also true for a lot of you.

All of this has made me hate the idea of being a woman.

When I was in my early years of high school (I'm in the UK and we start high school at 11 and finish at 16) I always said how I would "love to be a boy" because I always saw it as easier. I hated being a girl because everything was so shit. And that carried on into my later years of high school.

As I was introduced to the wonderful different gender identities that exist, I began reading and hearing stories of how trans/non-binary/gender-fluid, etc, people felt before they realised they were what they are. And I thought, "oh, damn. That me." So I began experimenting with labels. But even whilst I did that, whilst I played around with pronouns, names, hairstyles, clothing, I always felt this deep want to wear pretty dresses and have long hair. But I rejected those wants because I was "trans/non-binary/gender-fluid now and if I want those things then I can't be any of those." Which, yes, I know, is very binary of me. I understand that anyone can wear pretty dresses and skirts and have ling, flowy hair that they place sparkly pins in. I know. But you have to understand how damn difficult it is to ignore the stuff you have been taught all your life. I wanted to be called she/her but at the same time rejected those feelings because the thought of being a woman made me sick.

But then I watched the Barbie movie.

Now, I don't remember my childhood much. I don't know if it was what you would call "traditional girlhood." But I know it was good. And I know many AFAB have experienced horrendous childhoods, which hurts me to think about every time. But when I saw the ending of the Barbie movie. When the videos of those girls and women were playing. I felt something in me. I'm sure you've all heard different renditions of how the montage made women feel, and a lot of them is how I would describe how I felt. So, I won't get into it. But just know I felt a shift in me.

As well as that montage, other things in the movie got to me. The inherent femininity of it, for one. I know from discussions with other people, and from seeing many videos/blogs online, that what I'm going to mention is a common experience for a lot of AFAB. I hated the colour pink. Despised it. I only very very recently, before the Barbie movie, began admitting that the colour wasn't so bad. But the Barbie movie made me think that, omg, I might actually love the colour. Alongside the colour pink, I loved the outfits of the Barbies'. They were so freeing to see. As I wrote previously, I wanted to wear pretty skirts and dresses and have pretty hairstyles, but always refused to acknowledge that. Seeing the Barbies' in their overtly feminine clothing (again, I know I'm leaning into gender binary but please give me some slack. It's hard to write when you're not a novelist) made me feel giddy. I saw them and was like "pretty pretty pretty" and not just because all the women were beautiful lmao. It lit up a spark of joy in me seeing them dress in those clothes. That's how I can best describe my feelings. I just suddenly felt that I could wear those things. Weird, huh?

Another thing in the movie is the portrayal of happy older women.

This again links with the video montage, but also links with the old lady at the beginning of the movie saying she knows she's beautiful, with Ruth Handler being so gentle with Stereotypical Barbie and not ridiculing her for being stupid or naive. It also links with Gloria. I freaking loved Gloria. All of these portrayals made me so happy because it gave me a sudden sense of hope that I will be okay one day.

As someone with severe depression and probably autism/ADHD, who doesn't remember not being depressed, that really spoke to me. These women were happy. They were okay with themselves. No, the LOVED themselves. It was beautiful.

This movie healed me, just a bit, and let me make the first real steps to healing fully. I'm still not 100% sure about my gender identity, but tbh I don't quite care. I'm starting to wear makeup often, starting to take care of my body better. I also bought a cute little Stitch dress lmao, and a white, frilly tank-top with purple flowers on it. I'm embracing my feminine side and I've never felt more free.

It's a wonderful feeling. I'm surprised myself that this all came from a Barbie movie. But, at the same time, I think I was beginning to realise this about myself before the movie. Having finished college and not needing to worry about Uni as I'm not going has given me the freedom to actually look at myself, internally, and ask "what do I feel?" Again, linking back to the Barbie movie when Ruth says, "Take my hands...Now, feel." And I have done. I've asked what my brain needs, and it's full of pretty dresses and pretty hairstyles and warmth and a want to live again.

I'm aware that this may seem silly to a lot of people. Maybe even childish. But I don't care. And that's a lot for an 18 year old to say, because many people my age, and older, do care. A lot.

This has just been an introspection, but I chose to share it because maybe it will help other people.

(Also, heavy disclaimer if you got this far. I don't know what terms are still used now, or how they're used. And writing about girl/womanhood and femininity whilst also trying to be inclusive to those who have the female anatomy but don't identify as a woman, and those who don't have the female anatomy but identify as women is very difficult. So, I deeply apologise if I used the term AFAB wrong, or if it is no longer an accepted term. Also, if anything else in this post is wrong/offensive or incorrect, again I'm sorry. Please let me know what is wrong and how to fix it and I will do my best to edit this post with the updated terminology/fixes.)

[mpregcatboyshin]

its soooo funny to me that before yttd i was just like. half assing fandom. before yttd i couldnt tell you what my current obsession was. nothing had so passionately taken up my life like this game has. ive met really, really great friends through it and interacted with fandom more so than i ever have. ive fallen in love with a game again, something that hasnt happened in a while.

but the tragedy is i came in so late. just one part left before the whole big show is over. i was not here for the hype of it all, i was not here during any golden age whatsoever. it's quiet and calm for the most part and ive been here just wading through it all. ive read the greats, ive followed the artists and marveled at their works. i even started writing for fandom too. and im so glad i have this experience.

but for the life of me i can not begin to express just how much this game has affected me psychologically. how much interacting with fandom has affected me. how those great friends have influenced me. how much ive changed since then. im not particularly upset, no i think im just making an observation. its been a hell of a year, in a sense.

anyway. to the purpose of this post. its been basically a year since ive entered this fandom. and this is basically just a bunch of stupid feelings i can't put anywhere else. im grateful for finding this game. im thankful that i learned of its existence. as stupid as it is, while this might not be my favorite game of all time (at least not yet, who knows) i don't think ive ever wanted to not finish a game more than this one im my entire life. ive always wanted to play a game to completion, every single time. but this one i just can't fathom it. i can't deal with it being over. like a dear friend i don't want them to go. but unlike a friend, yttd will always be accessible to me. i will always have it somewhere, available, in some type of form. through the game itself, through fanwork, or even my own imagination. but the raw feeling of it being incomplete, of theorizing and guessing what the finale will be, that is finite. there's a clock ticking down that can not be stopped. and while it makes me happy that we'll get to know the ending, i know that no matter what ill be left crying my heart out. because in yttd, there are no happy endings. there is no hope or salvation for any of our beloved characters. there is only survival. and only 1 of them can.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2022-10-03

Several parts for a project got lost in the mail and if I don't blow up a motor doing something ill-advised with transistors soon I'm going to become the Joker.

Listening: I went to see the Ndlovu Youth Choir, a youth music group out of Limpopo who became extremely well known after they got on America's Got Talent a few years ago. Great style, they do a wide array of different styles and songs over a pretty wide time period, here's two songs:

Reading: Mostly scraps of SCP stuff, but a bad week for reading

Watching: Finished Arcane. God damn. Yes I know it's been like a year since that came out shut up.

It's so good. The animation is beautiful, it's so carefully considered, there's so few shortcuts taken. There's a scene where Jayce throws up on the bridge and it's a really close shot that sells the physicality of vomiting so well, it's messy and unpleasant. Another studio might have cut to a really long silhouette shot for that kind of thing. The Ekko/Jinx fight might be one of the best fights in the show. Even basic conversations have thoughtful blocking and framing, very little simple shot/reverse, there's always a focus on body parts and movements.

It's very predictable, which is probably because it's very character driven and the characters don't change much, you could write a comprehensive study of most characters on a post-it. There's a few major pivotal moments and twists for a few characters which are huge, but for the most part you can just run what you know about them forward to predict what happens next. Even having no knowledge of LoL you can guess that the Firelighters are led by Ekko in like zero seconds.

Jinx and Jayce are the main sources of unpredictability but that's because she's Da Joker Baby and paranoid and has psychosis, and he's a very smart boy who doesn't know what he's doing so the moment someone suggests any kind of solution to him he immediately does it without thinking.

Every single characters' design slaps. They did not make the mistake of trying to be sensible. Why is the cop uniform kind of demure but hot in a sexy maid kind of way? How does Jinx maintain twin braids longer than she is while also being on fire some of the time? How does Ekko fight with all that stuff on? These are not questions to ask. The question to ask is how fucking cool does this look and the answer is very.

The levels of tragedy are off the charts. Every second episode there's an opportunity for things to be resolved and for peace to succeed and everyone to talk and it doesn't happen ever.

Viktor and Jayce should have fucked at some point if only to make the breakup even worse.

Playing: Brought my desktop's storage back online so I have somewhere to put games again, but I haven't actually done much with it. Fortunately since I moved to Arch again my Proton is more stable, I got Ace Combat working under Linux.

Making: weekend making time was lost to a number of minor emergencies, but I did have to pop a door off its hinges because the lock completely failed which was fun. Unfortunately it was the door to the toolshed so I had to scrabble together the tools to do said pin popping from whatever tools I keep in my desk.

Tools and Equipment: Treating a minor injury in the family so here's a reminder to check your first aid kits, I had to run out and grab a bunch of non-absorbing gauze because we were all out.

I'm currently in the process of stocking a more severe trauma care kit for the family because my dad is on anti-clotting and blood thinning medication for a while which makes all his wounds one level of severity worse, so also learn how to use Chest Seals and Tourniquets, there's good online resources but you can probably also find a Stop The Bleed training course near you, it's a big international programme.

[froggie-recs-fics]

Fic Roundup (up to 9/26/21)

I'm gonna start collecting fics I've read recently to recommend them, because making trope lists takes too long and many fics fall by the wayside. Let me know if you like this new format!

The fandoms in this list are as follows: Marvel (SamBucky, HTP, SpideyPool, WinterHawk, WinterIron, Stony, Stucky, SpiderShield), DCU (Bane/Blake), Inception (Arthur/Eames), Teen Wolf (Sterek).

A * signifies a particular favorite (though I love all these fics)

Marvel

Sam/Bucky

double back by flowermasters (E, 12K, Post-Endgame, Time Loop, Time Travel)

Sam gets stuck in a time loop. In 1943.

Things could be worse, but they could certainly be better.

Companion piece here: quick time

I'll explain everything to the geese by napricot (Post-Endgame, E, 50K, Sam can talk to birds)

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Rumlow/Bucky

**blueprints for a better world series by itallstartedwithdefenestration @astralhux (CATWS, Post-CATWS, Noncon, E, 115K, Dark Main Character)

When Pierce discovers the asset is no longer capable of getting himself hard during recreational use, he tells Rumlow to figure out what the problem is, and to fix it. The solution turns out to be more complicated than anyone expected.

I can't recommend this series enough

Peter/Wade

*Dead Men Walking series by doctorestranged @lazystrawberrymilkshakes (E, 235K, Identity Porn, Slow Burn)

When a series of murders take place, Peter Parker goes undercover in Sister Margaret’s to get intel on Tony Stark’s prime suspect: Deadpool. Peter goes in hoping to get enough information so that Spider-Man can save the day, but like everything in Peter’s life, it becomes a bit more complicated than that and it soon becomes apparent that he might not be the best fit for the job.

All About Chemistry by TwiceBakedPotato @sedatedkoala (No Powers AU, M, CNTW, 74K, Teacher-Student Relationship, Slow Build)

After serving his 20 years in the Marine Corps, Wade Wilson is cashing in his GI Bill and going back to college. He feels like the old man on campus, but that doesn't matter. He likes his classes. He likes learning. And he especially likes his Chemistry professor with the messy brown hair.

Clint/Bucky

Making Me A Habit by Kangofu_CB @kangofu-cb (No Powers AU, T, 20K, Pet Store, Slow Burn, Pining, Misunderstandings)

Bucky is a disabled vet struggling with reintegrating into civilian life. He has a routine and a rhythm, and he doesn't like to let anything - big or small - disrupt it. That all changes the day Bucky finds himself inside CATastrophe, the local pet rescue, recovering from a panic attack in the back room of the shop.

He’s used to walking by the place, not visiting, but the next thing Bucky knows, he’s hanging signs and being used as a climbing tree for a bunch of freshly-acquired kittens. And he just...keeps going back. First for the kittens, then for the disaster shop owner who rescues actual kittens from actual trees and teaches archery as a side-gig, and eventually because he’s hopelessly in love.

(Clint was in love before Bucky ever walked in the door.)

*Nameless by AvaKelly (Post-CATWS, M, 101K, Time Travel, Time Loop, Slow Burn)

A gun is pointed at him before he can even move from his position, the Soldier's metal arm steady in its aim. Clint sighs.

"Nemo," Clint says. "It's tattooed on your wrist, right here," he lifts his right hand and taps his left index finger where his palm ends.

The Soldier's eyes widen. "How do you know this?"

"I put it there."

Glitter, G-Strings and Other Mission Hazards by flawedamythyst @flawedamythyst (T, 16K, Undercover, Stripper Clint)

“Which is why you need me to shake my booty for cash,” said Clint.

“Precisely,” said Coulson. “You’re the only agent we have who wouldn’t need additional training in the skills of an exotic dancer to take on the mission, and we want to get someone in there as soon as possible.”

Clint nodded, shutting the file. “Okay, awesome. I’ll dig out my sequined g-string.”

“You’ll have full access to requisition any costumes you might need,” said Coulson.

A mission requires Bucky to be Clint's back-up as he goes undercover as a stripper, which gets more difficult with every new costume he comes out in.

Paternal Error by EVVS @skylarkevanson (Post-CATWS, T, 33K, Kid Fic, Established Relationship)

Bucky has never once thought of being a parent. Not since the Winter Solider happened.

Until he falls in love with Clint Barton. And that idiot just keeps collecting children for his flock.

Now Bucky has to pretend like he's good at parenting.

Bucky/Tony

Forms of Love by bear_bell (Post-CACW, E, 33K, Split Personalities)

Months after the Avengers' dispute in Germany, the team returns to the US and moves back into the tower. As always, everyone pretends that nothing happened. Tony is just fine with this. He's used to pretending, and he'll be damned if he lets any of them see him flinch.

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

Steve/Tony

While You Were Sleeping by betheflame @betheflame (No Powers AU, M, 65K, While You Were Sleeping AU)

It's been years since Steve Grant Rogers Drysdale has spoken to his twin, Ransom. So it was quite a shock when he was summoned to a hospital and found out that Ransom was in a coma.

Even more shocking? That Ransom is engaged. To Tony Stark.

Steve/Bucky

The Road Goes Ever On And On by PipGraham (Omegaverse AU, M, Noncon, Graphic Violence, 20K, Road Trip, Pre-Serum Steve, Past Domestic Violence)

When Brock's continued domestic abuse puts not only Steve's life in danger, but also that of his unborn pup, he flees into the night with just a small backpack of clothes and almost no money to his name.

Steve quickly runs into trouble as he tries to embark on a 3-day cross-country bus journey back home to New York City.

He meets a kind veteran when he most needs a helping hand.

Just Words by LadyRazzle (crimegimp) @ladyrazzle (Pre-CATFA, Soulmate AU, T, 2K, Fluff)

Inspired by that now legendary post: "soulmate AU where you wake up on your 18th birthday with the first words your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your body so you’ll know them when you meet them." Well what if they appear the moment you turn 18, rather than just the day? And what if by the time you turn 18, you'd already fallen in love?

Bucky wasn’t eager to discover what the words said. He already knew what he wanted them to say. He always had.

Peter/Steve

Forgetting It's There by spinstitcher (stygian) (NR, 8K, Crack, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn)

“You’re Captain America,” he blurts out.

“What?” says Captain America, looking a little wide-eyed. He casts a nervous glance at the girl at the counter – he has nothing to worry about there, she’s rocking out to her iPod and could care less what they’re talking about – and says, “No, uh, Steve, it’s just, I’m Steve.”

“Right,” says Peter, and then because his brain-to-mouth filter had apparently been completely destroyed in the fight on Oscorp Tower: “Hey, your butt really is as tight as it looks on TV.”

DCU

Bane/Blake

7 Deadly Ass(as)sins by teacuphuman @teacuphuman09 (AU, E, 23K, BDSM)

Bane and Barsad own a sex shop and John needs a job.

Straws by Menirva (Bane/Blake/Barsad, AU, E, 38K, BDSM)

John works in a smoothie shop.

He has a knack, a second sense if you will, for being able to look at a person and know what they're going to order. It's not the most spectacular gift in the world but he likes being able to figure people out and he's never wrong.

Except for this scruffy asshole who is clearly just ordering the wrong thing to fuck with him.

How is he even finishing an extra-large?

Inception

Aurthur/Eames

Rough Trade by Whisky (whiskyrunner) @whiskyrunner (AU, E, 23K, Internalized Homophobia)

Arthur is an investment banker. He is professional and efficient. He's a halfway decent cook. He's totally independent and has been since the age of eighteen. Maybe he's tired all the time because he works about ninety hours a week which is twice what normal people do, but he's rich and he's competent at his job. He's almost thirty, and already a success.

And there are some things Arthur is not. For instance: Arthur is not gay.

Lucky by earlgreytea68 @earlgreytea68 (M, 37K, Kid fic)

Arthur finds a baby.

Teen Wolf

Stiles/Derek

Cut to the Bone by standinginanicedress (Omegaverse AU, E, 112K, Secret Relationship, Enemies to Lovers kinda)

“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

Cornerstone by Vendelin (Human AU, E, 83K, Marine Derek, Blind Stiles, Friends to Lovers)

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach (AU, Graphic Violence, E, 76K, Captivity, Feral Derek)

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf." An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

The Payoff Pitch by Leslie_Knope (Sports AU, E, 83K, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers)

Derek is on the cusp of his second season with the LA Dodgers, and as the reigning runner-up Rookie of the Year, the pressure’s on him to become the team’s star pitcher and lead them to the playoffs for the first time in five years. He’s trying to deal with the burden of expectations and really has zero desire to spend any extra time or energy on anything that isn’t baseball.

But then he meets Stiles.

[tennessoui]

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[just-a-fangirl13]

Why s5 *might* be the season MacRiley happens

Okay so...Hear me out! I'm not crazy I promise!!

Firstly, after 5x03 (and probably 5x04) it may seem very unlikely that MacRiley could ever happen. But I thought of a few reasons why they might actually happen by the end of s5 after all.... (it gets a lil long winded and kinda complicated but just stick with me till the end!)

1. All the MacRiley moments including the ones in 5x03.

[this Mac smile could not be an accident or something that slipped through both production and post-production right?! that in itself is a whole reason!]

Every Macriley moment we have ever had- whether it's the hugs, Riley saving Mac, Mac saving Riley, the ultimate show of loyalty when Riley went after Mac during Codex or even just the looks exchanged between the two- to any outsider it would seem pretty obvious that they are dating or at least in love. Keep in mind the writers would have written each of those scenes and Lucas and Tristan have acted them out with a specific build up in mind aka MacRiley.(think about the date episode: Riley just got dumped but was still thinking about how Mac might be hungry. She didnt have to do that. She could have just shown up at his place..) I mean how can they write two people so perfectly in sync and so perfect for each other and not have them end up together? It would just be a waste of all that tension and slow burn. (not to mention all the hugs and glances)

2. They know we exist. 

The MacRiley fam is very active on twitter with the writers and while they were writing 5x01 they knew we were around. They know we are a huge group. They would not want to risk pissing 90% of the fandom off by not making MacRiley endgame.

[P.S.yes 5x03 was a bait and switch but if you were paying attention you would have noticed that neither Lucas not Tristan live tweeted or hyped up the episode. They knew we would probably hate it so they didnt publicise it too much! so in the future if you have doubts about the episode being a MacRiley one just check their stories or posts on twitter/intstagram]

3. Yes 5x03 happened. 

I really think it was an episode they HAD to write. Ok so after 4x13 they had 7 more episodes planned and were filming 4x20 (aka the finale) when the pandemic struck. So they have these 6 episodes but no finale for it. [Idk if anyone else has noticed but in 5x01 there were clearly some parts cut out. For example the conversation between Desi and Riley towards the end seemed a bit jilted. Riley asking Desi to forgive her but Desi replied with yeah we are cool (still no apology ofc) I feel like something happened during that which ended up getting cut out so it could fit with the final story.]

This makes me think that they have rewritten a few bits to tie into the new finale episode. In 5x03 when Mac asked Desi to come fishing with him which was clearly something very personal to him she was like no do better.. then we see Mac's disappointed expression. She could have easily said okay but maybe not for our first date? Or its not really my thing? Or just about anything else rather than laughing in his face like that. Eventhough MD is together they still arent compatible. Mac’s final words in 5x03 was him being desperate. I truly think he is so broken and lost that Desi is the only safe thing left, the only thing he feels like he can fix right now. Once he finds himself again and heals...then it's going to hit him like a pile of bricks!!

4. But Riley doesn't have feelings anymore...WELL doesnt she? 

When it comes to Mac, Riley is always in denial. We saw it in s4 when she tells Bozer not to make her say it. I think s5 will show her finally accepting it. Finally accepting that she is in love with her best friend and that it definitely isnt Codex adrenaline because she caught the feels when Codex wasnt even around. While Mac's arc would include realising he and Desi are never going to work and that he is unhappy and that RILEY is the one for him.

[why else would they give Riley feelings for Mac? Something has to come of it.]

5. The slow burn rule.[this point is a lil complicated] 

Now season 5 is rumoured to have 13 episodes. So here’s what I think: If MacGyver follows the pattern that most shows do when it comes to slow burns, then technically MacRIley should have happened at the end of season 4. But since the season got cut short and they didnt get to air/finish their final episode the writers had to improvise. 

From what I know, 4x19 which is 5x04 for us is the episode where Mac meets Desi’s parents and 4x20 was supposed to be the finale that was left unfinished.(they are definitely moving the timeline ahead if a pre finale episode is suddenly a mid season one.) There might have been a 4x21 or 4x22 but I haven't heard anything about those....EVER.

So what I think they have decided to do instead is extend the MD storyline a bit longer just so they dont end up scrapping all their s4 episodes where they would be together and write a new finale that ties everything together, aka MacRiley.

If you think about episode counts, s4 and s5 together would have 26 episodes which is a how long a normal season runs. Basically what im trying to say is if we follow the ‘slow burns end by s4’ and take season 5 as an extension of 4 then MacRiley should get together in the season 5 finale or maybe the episode just before. (IM REALLY TRYING TO GET SOME LOGIC INTO THIS)

This would be a typical TV thing too where the couple finds out about each other’s feelings while the main arc of the show is also at its peak, which perfectly sets up a future season where fans are hyped but still has a satisfying ending.

6. So what about MacDesi?

So far the macgyver writers have given us characters we love. Think of every character on the show apart from maybe Desi... Mac, Riley, Bozer, Jack, Matty, Leanna, Samantha, Russ and even Murdoc. WE LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. So then why is Desi such a strange character? I think shes purposely been written as an opposite to Mac or even Riley (I get she’s supposed to kinda replace Jack but Jack is really irreplaceable). 

It's not necessarily a bad thing its just not a great thing to do or have great execution. People have said things like Desi is a badass and shouldnt have to apologise or say I love you back to her boyfriend because she is a strong woman...I'm sorry but your opinion of who a strong woman is, is EXTREMELY skewed. A strong woman is someone who can make mistakes and when she does, she is ‘strong’ enough to own up to it, she is loyal and fierce and also caring while being a badass who can take down bad guys. And for GODS SAKE, RILEY DAVIS IS A STRONG WOMAN...people have called her mushy and feminine on twitter and I'm just very confused by that.....

Anyways before I go off on a rant, it seems like Desi is intentionally being written this way. Every opportunity they get to redeem her and make her more relatable or just a better person they just dont take it. While Rileys character arc is one of the best I've ever seen. Either its intentional or they’ve forgotten how to write characters...which is worrisome but ill give them the benefit of the doubt.

The writers also know we dont like Desi. The amount of times we've tagged them in the toxic posts or pointed out problematic things we can be sure they've seen at least half of those. So theres no way they dont know. RIGHT?

So why then is MD still a thing you may ask??

Well for one they cant break them up again off screen because of those unreleased s4 episodes. (not to mention the other parts of the audience who arent as invested in mac’s love life would probably be very confused.)

Secondly Mac has to be the one to pull the plug, not Desi. 4x13 made it seem like Desi was the annoyed one not Mac. He apologised to her which meant he wanted to fix things. 

Thirdly, they are opening the chpt one last time before they permanently close it. MD is going to be a stark contrast to macriley(it already is in every way possible). Every issue Mac and Desi had can be used to show how amazing macriley really is as two people who arent even dating yet.

Fourthly, MD being together is a sort of commentary on Macs mental health as well. We can see how happy he is with Riley but around Desi he becomes some one else. If the writers are doing this on purpose or subconsciously still remains to be seen.

And Yes keeping MD around for a few more episodes seems like a necessary risk right now but I have a feeling its going to be worth it later.

[I know we have had like 4 desi entered episodes already but I really think 5x04 will be the last of it since 5x05 is the Jack episode and 5x06 is Mac+Riley+Bozer episode with no mention of Desi at all!]

The writers know we are a dedicated bunch and they know that once MD breaks up for the last time the entire fandom will be waiting and watching. That's when the show will be at its peak. That will be the perfect moment to bring in MacRiley’s arc to a new start!

Congrats if you stuck with me through this whole thing! if you agree/disgaree with any of these or have other reasons why they could be endgame in s5 let me know!!

[queensdivas]

Peonies Chapter 8

It has been a while since I've posted about Grigor or The Great. Y'all I have been busy with finals and another fic on archive that has been my favorite thing to write. If you've ever watched The Terror from AMC then you'll enjoy this.

But I haven't forgot about one of my favorite fics. Never.

Other than that! Here we go after weeks of not writing.

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

The idea of falling asleep after today just sounds nauseating. Seeing the horrors in front of me then coming back to my apartment for Peter wanting to kill me. Then for Grigor to storm off due to the fact that he thought I would lay with my own cousin by marriage. Yes I’m well aware that’s still a common practice amongst the Monarchs of the world but not in my book!

Turning my head to watch the flames slowly begin to die down before my eyes. The room was beginning to spiral into that infamous Russian cold. I didn’t feel like throwing another log on since part of me thinks I deserve to be in the wintry world that I have chosen to live in.

This plan for making Catherine the ruler of all Russia is becoming stale. What have we done that’s been achievable anyhow! Go to the front to feed a bunch of soldiers! You saw what happened when I alone tried to help Peter! Catherine influenced a new Patriarch yet the women of the court still find Catherine to be an annoyance. There has been absolutely no effort or somewhat change Catherine has done to make things more in her favor. God she is a child thrown into a world that she has no idea what she's doing. Although I should be guiding...but...

What good am I doing here! I feel as if I’m just now a fuck toy for Grigor to feel a womens touch since his wife is with the Emporer on a daily basis! Throwing the blanket off me to march over to the nearest vase and chuck it across the room!

A screech left my body as I cleared everything off the vanity onto the floor. I could feel the blood rushing through me for this anger to spiral out of control! This stupid country! Grabbing a book to throw it against the wall!

THIS STUPID COUNTRY!

HOW CAN ONE FUCKING BELONG TO THIS COURT!

HOW CAN ONE SINGLE HUMAN BE SUCH AN ABSOLUTE MORON! AND YES THAT HUMAN IS ME!

WHY DOESN’T HE TRUST ME!

I’M NOT HIS WIFE!

THIS STUPID GOD DAMN COUNTRY!

IT’S MAKING ME QUESTION EVERY SINGLE THREAD OF INSANITY I HAVE BECAUSE THE MAN I’M BEGINNING TO FALL FOR HAS MAJOR TRUST ISSUES! CAN’T HE SEE THAT I AM A ONE MAN ONE WOMEN SORT OF WOMAN!

YES I’M A WHORE TO A MAR….

Huh...would you look at that Chiara? All because he lit a fire under your own ass because everyone else around you stays clear of it.

I…..

I feel nothing….

Maybe the cold will make me feel something in this empty body. Grabbing the handles of the window to pull them out. They smacked against the walls for the wind to soar through my room. It flew through my hair for the first few seconds for it to stop. The cold swaddled me up but I didn’t move from the window.

I do not deserve the things I have been given in life. For I am a cold hearted bitch with almost no remorse in my actions. I could possibly kill a hundred people and proclaim it to be for the greater good. No sense of remorse or sadness.

How could Grigor want to love someone as vile as me..I am cold..evil. Someone like me doesn’t deserve the warm embrace of what love is. This lust is beginning to form into the most dangerous tool one can have in their life. For it can bring life and destroy it in a matter of seconds.

I miss his touch..the way his fingers would glide across my arm as we snuggled together on the bed. The way he kissed my forehead after a long time of making love. Him showing me his drawings and I know he’s drawing me in my sleep! It hurts to feel this sort of way! I don’t want to feel anything! This feeling is almost heart wrenching and...beautiful.

My breathing began to choke till the only warmth that was on my body was the singular tear that had escaped my eye. I’m not a crier. Though we Italians embrace our emotions and turn it into something beautiful, I think this tear is a sense of relief. If I didn’t feel anything. I wouldn’t be whimpering in front of an open window.

A gentle beat from the door echoed through my room as I didn’t even move. If Peter was sending his soldiers to kill me I get the feeling there would be no knock. Please let it be Grigor. I need to feel his touch and tell him the truth. Not all of it but at least enough that I don’t spoil my plans for Catherine.

I closed the window to hurry over to the fire and toss a log in. If it’s Grigor then he probably would prefer something a little warmer. Please him please. Grabbing my robe to put it on as I opened the door. My eyes expanded from the confusion of who was standing before me in my bed robes.

“Elizabeth?” Well if she was coming to kill me I imagine my room has some sort of secret entrance and would’ve done it in my sleep.

“I hope I didn't disturb you. I think we need to have a little chat.”

“We do?” Dear God if Peter opened his mouth about what he started and what I finished I’m going to go kill him myself!

“Yes. May I come in?” Taking a step back for the door to open. She was in her bed clothes as she noticed the mess I had made in my room.

“The work of Peter no less?” I kept my mouth shut for once waiting for her to say something more. She’s going to defend Peter as much as she can. Probably for his own father who I imagine she secretly loved. From my understanding Peter the Great was also quite promiscuous just like his mother. A family of harlots.

“I heard from Peter what happened here early today. I highly doubt that you called him a bastard since he can be quite over dramatic.” So she’s aware that he’s a sniffling bastard whose inability to rule is quite prominent.

“Not talking much tonight are you? Usually you have a comment to say if I were in here talking about Peter.”

“For once Elizabeth. I could truly give a shit about Peter and his antics. I’m not here to please him and make him happy. I’m here for Catherine and making her more comfortable with her new station.” Try not to think that we might kill her own Nephew in a good amount of time. If not by Catherine then by the military.

“You’re not angry that he was in here and wanted to kill you?” She sat down in front of the fire in the love seat for me to stand before here.

“Your nephew. My cousin by marriage is a harmless little bug in my life Elizabeth. His actions were not even worth a single drop of sweat from my brow.”

“Did the stabbing of a major General not scare you? As an outsider I thought it would have scared you horribly.”

“Not scared. More gasping which then leads to utter annoyance. I am more than capable of handling Peter when he’s in a state of anger trying to kill me. What do you even want because I would like some sort of rest.”

“Be more gentle when it comes..

“Just because his mother was a horrid woman does not excuse his actions Elizabeth! That’s saying Zeus should be considered a kind man even though he raped Leda because of his own mental state. Peter thinks of him as Zeus when in reality he is worse than Hades himself! Life is horrid Elizabeth and constantly blaming his issues on his mother is disgusting and you standing here trying to defend him holds you accountable for his actions.”

“What an interesting comparison. You are a very bright woman and that wicked tongue is able to strike anyone down.”

“I can strike down anyone with tongue and steel.” Taking in a sharp breath to walk over to a full bottle of sweet red wine.

“Would you like a glass?” Asking for her to nod. Popping off the court to grab two glasses then bringing two glasses over for us. Sitting down across from here to begin pouring her a glass. She motioned for me to stop for me to pour myself some as well.

“I apologise dear Aunt Elizabeth. I sometimes forget to catch my tongue before it falls out of my head.” We both took a long drink to the point when we were done I had to pour a little more between us.

“It’s quite alright. I’m just grateful you didn’t kill my beloved Nephew before it was too late.” Before I could answer the doors bursted open.

“Excuse me mam?” Turning to see a serf was standing by the door of my world. Did something happen to Fernanda?

“Zasha? What is it?” Elizabeth stood up from my chair to approach her.

“It’s the Emperor. He’s fallen gravely ill.” Well. That is going to solve our problems much faster than I thought it was going to happen. She wrapped herself around her robe as we began walking out of my bedroom.

“Why are you coming? I thought you despised him” She asked for me to nod but was still walking.

“We’re family by marriage. He is now my cousin whether I like it or not.” Turning the corner to see that Orlo, George...and Grigor were waiting outside the room. Splendid. I imagine his wife was ready to lay in bed yet stumbled into that mess.

“From what I’ve seen and heard it sounds bad. A lot of vomit and blood.” Orlo told us to stand next to Orlo. One of the priests that was in the room came out with the black mask on his face to then take it off before us.

“You may not enter the room. For it might be contagious till the doctor tells you differently. For he’s running a high fever, a lot of vomiting, and has been seeing strange visions. The Archbishop is there with him now. He’ll tell you more once he comes out.” Is...Is that vomit on his mask? Or...dear god. He walked past us heading down the hall towards the apartments.

“How is he?” Catherine came in with a very well detailed look of uneasiness.

“Very ill.” Elizabeth told Catherine for my eyes to drift over to Grigor. He was holding onto George but staring directly at me. Stupid man. Stupid man!

“Can we go in?” Catherine asked Orlo but I’m assuming not.

“Well everyones being kept out here.”

“In fear of contagion.” Finally looking at Grigor again for us to lock eyes for a brief instant till I turned to Catherine.

“He’s been vomiting continuously throughout the night, and he runs a high fever, and he has fits of wild delirium.”

“The Doctor and Archbishop are with him.” I told her to place my hands on her shoulder to give some comfort to this poor wife and my cousin. The door opened for a child to come out with a bowl filled with blood and vomit. Not to mention his entire body was covered head to toe in Peters upchuck...and from the smell..the back door was also used as well.

“Excuse me.” Oh the smell! Covering my nose for Grigor and I to look at one another again. He doesn’t look concerned. Is that a smile?

We all leaned into the doorway to see what was happening in there since we could only hear the sound of Peter vomiting and coughing more and more. I did the sign of the cross to hold onto my cross necklace. I don’t pray for Peter. But I pray for the Doctor inside the room that he stays safe from whatever disease has fallen upon Peter. Peter could go to hell for all I care, but I have to keep up appearances.

The Archbishop popped in the doorway for us to straighten our backs. He came out of his bedroom to close the door behind him. Grigor inched a little closer to me to the point I could sense the warmth radiating off him.

“How is he?” Grigor asked for the Archbishop to stare directly at us.

“Extremely ill. The fear is that it may be Cholera.”

“Cholera?” That’s a rough sickness. Even I wouldn’t wish that sort of death on my enemy.

“Which I suspect he will have caught from a possessed, nocturnal animal. Probably a badger.” If I ever get sick in this country I would rather just endure the ride home and die in a carriage. These doctors are not touching me with a ten foot pole!

“Where would he have come across a possessed badger?” Catherine asked thankfully. That sounds absolutely unrealistic and not how you even got Cholera. Not that I don’t know how you get Cholera but I imagine it’s not from a possessed badger.

“If it is Cholera, he will die, will he not?” Holding her a little tighter as a cue to sound a lot more concerned. You have to make it believable that you’re distraught that he might die!

“It’s a strong possibility that we must face.” Looking at Orlo who kept the same straight face he usually has.

“Oh my little man.” THE POOR BABY! I WILL WEEP WITH A BOTTLE OF WINE AND GLORIOUS MUSIC!

“The Doctor is working hard on cures. It may be something else.”

“Has he said anything? Is he talking?” Why would he be concerned if he’s talking? Grigor might as well give a shit if he truly dies or not.

“He speaks intermittently. Much of it is deranged. Said he was a wolf, and wanted to eat Swedish children for breakfast. And there was some talk of what he’d like to do to Chiara and with various ladies of the court. I’ll spare you the details.” My body ran cold for Catherine to turn and face me. The blood in my body felt as if it dried up as I wanted to vomit. Looking at Grigor as I felt so disgusted with myself.

“Before more bouts of diarrhea and vomiting.” The Archbishop went back in for Grigor to take in a deep breath.

“I will go in to see him.” Say what?

“Do not risk your life.” Elizabeth told him as he stopped in the doorway.

“I want to be there for my friend.” Bullshit! He could give an absolute shit about Peter at this point!

“I had no idea your husband was so brave, Georgina.”

“Oh yes famously so.”

“In more ways than one.” Adding into the conversation for George to turn and face me.

“Just being honest.” An angry snake she is when I add my own little comments. Settle down hypocrites.

Orlo, Catherine, and I huddled into our own group to see the expression of Catherines face change from the fake grieving widow to an excited future ruler. Must admit this is a little exciting for me as well.

“If this is Cholera, he could be dead within the day.” Orlo told us as Catherine was beginning to smile slightly but trying to control herself.

“Right. That means..”

“Yes. Yes it will be yours. You will rule Russia.” By God it’s going to actually happen.

“After all our planning..it just..”

“Falls right into your lap.” Orlo finished as the doors opened back up. The ArchBishop came out of the room to take off his mask. Remember when I said that this planning became stale? I stand corrected and I was completely wrong. This just made everything better.

“In light of this terrible situation, a meeting is being called to deal with the possible transition of power.”

“To me.” Easy Catherine. That’s a little too exciting for someone who's losing their husband.

“Indeed. It seems so. You are the next...should the worst happen.” Seems like the worst is about to happen right before them. If it’s going this quickly then I might be going home soon! Finally an end to this horrid nightmare and cesspool!

“Prepare with prayer, and the senate will be called.”

“I look forward to it.” Damn it Catherine!

“Not him dying. That is bad. And sad. And we hope for the best and a speedy recovery.” If I could slap my own face I would without making this seem like we’re excited that Peter is dying.

“God will be with us. He always is.” The Archbishop left the hall for Catherine and Orlo to talk amongst themselves. I need to talk to Grigor. I can’t stand being apart from him at nights for it is his warmth I believe that is keeping me sane. I don’t think I can tell him that I think I’m starting to love him but atleast telling him I need him is a good start.

*Grigors P.O.V.*

DIE! DIE YOU HORRIBLE HUMAN! YOU THINK YOU CAN SLEEP WITH MY OWN LOVE BECAUSE YOU’RE THE EMPEROR! DIE DIE DIE! I WILL KILL YOU AND WILL LIVE PEACEFULLY IN MY OWN LIFE!

Removing the pillow to see that he was still breathing! Bastard! Slamming the pillow back onto him to push down even further in hopes that I might finish the job! Just die! How hard is it to kill someone who's already dying! Talking about Chiara as if she’s just a common peasant!

“What are you doing!?” George yelled as I continued to push down harder and harder.

“What is right and you know it George! I have to do something!”

“Fuck!” George pulled me back as we stopped to see Peter was still breathing. Dragging me from his bed towards the middle of his room.

“I was given the choice to be a man or a child! I’ve decided to become a man for the sake of my sanity!”

“You poisoned him?”

“Arsenic. From the wall in his borscht!” Feeling the cold slap from George as she was in full rage of my actions.

“What happens to us when he’s dead? Think what Peter provides for us!”

“You...you..”

“You’re a stupid fool Grigor!” She took a deep breath to calm herself down.

“Our situation is complex. Yet also simple! We have a safe life with Peter! Luxury, security, a place in court. Who’s he gonna be replaced by? Catherine!? We’re nothing to her! What happens to us then? Not to mention Chiara is making it much more difficult to handle this situation. No thanks to you!”

“So you may have a lover but I may not!” I love Chiara and this marriage is non-existent!

“Grigor?” Peter called for me as I turned to see him barely awake and moving. Say something George! You hypocritical bitch say something!

“We’re here.” George, like a mother goose, flew to Peter's aid. Well. It’s very clear now on where my life stands now. George has made her bed and it is time for me to make my own with a Duchess who isn’t afraid to get the job done when it needs to be done.

Letting go of the pillow to march out of the room and slamming the doors shut. Taking in a few deep breaths to calm myself before scampering off to Chiara. Chiara? Where is she? Perhaps in her chambers!

It was like seeing a light at the end of the tunnel heading to her apartment! The outline of the room was glowing before my eyes. Chiara..my love. The only woman in this world that can make my knees buckle to bow at her feet. That fire is intoxicating to the point that I might die of happiness.

Slamming the door open to see Chiara was in front of the flames looking directly into them. Her head slowly turned to face me with a somber look. A bottle of wine sitting next to her looked thoroughly used. Oh my precious flame. Closing the door to sit down next to her as she went back into looking into the fire.

“I placed my blade against his neck threatening to take his life away. Why didn’t I slice it open? Tell me why I didn’t Grigor?” She asked for me to place my hand on her cheek.

“What happened before I came in?”

“He was mad that I helped Velementov at the front for strategy. He drew a sword on me and I fought back. I won and threatened him that if he were to ever draw his sword on me that I would win. I...I should’ve sliced his throat open and strung him up as if he was game to place on my wall.” I feel like I should tell her that I’m the one that poisoned him. That he is dying in his own bed because the world would be better without him! She was literally going to kill him before I even came into the room!

“Chiara. I’m the one who caused him to become ill. I poisoned him in the borscht while he was eating dinner.” Her expression was the same as before till it clicked in her mind. Her entire face went from a beautiful red to a ghostly white in a matter of seconds.

“Holy shit..” She whispered to turn her attention to the fire. Is she going to tell Catherine? Not that Catherine might care much but what if she does? Would she tell the court? No...no what have I done!

“I would ask why but that..oh my god.” Turning her head to face me as I gulped.

“If it helps, I did it for you. For us..for everyone in the court that his idiocy will go away.” Her lips were slightly open with her breathing beginning to rise.

That lovely color began returning to her cheek as she climbed on top of me and wrapped herself around me. Those entrancing lips striked against mine as my hands traveled up her back to pull her shirt. She stopped to place her index finger on my lips.

“For you committing such a horrendous act. Allow me.” Removing her finger to place a kiss on my lips, to my cheek, then right underneath my jaw line. I could see the stars from how well she was working those luscious lips. Her hand gripped my cock to start playing it through my pants. God her touch. It’s almost too delicious to even allow. My eyes rolled back for me to lay down on the rug for her kisses to start moving down my body.

I love her...I hope that she knows that I would kill an army for her without regret...

~~~

@mirkwoodshewolf @bonafiderocketqueen @johndeaconshands

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @amethyst-serenade @radio-ha-ha@i-have-a-wonky-eye-too @deck-heart @actuallyanita @the-baby-bookworm @ewanmcgregors​ @panagiasikelia​

[elliecchi]

you’re koushi’s cousin but get mistaken as his girlfriend

i didn’t expect all the love from my first post but i’m finally done with school this sem so expect more stuff from me 💜this might be on the longer side of things but let’s see :> i hope you guys enjoy this uwu

it was another typical afternoon in miyagi

the karasuno boys and the teachers were in practice

nothing much other than the new drills ukai wanted them to do was different to their usual routine 

but boy oh boy was the team in for a shock

the team was currently on a water break 

kiyoko was distributing the water bottles and towels

2nd year duo was simping 

first years were being themselves so that was chaotic

the third years were talking to the teachers about some strategies that they could practice on 

“SUGA SENPAI!”

the little group turns to hinata who called for suga from the benches

“what’s up hinata? is anything wrong?”

sugamama mode is activated

hinata shakes his head and hands his senpai a phone 

“senpai your phone kept on vibrating so i thought it would be important”

pls dont touch me hinata is such a smol bean 

also im pretty sure they don’t bring their phones to the gym but i: do not enough im sorry

suga pats hinata on the head and smiles at his junior

“ah thanks hinata ill go check that right now”

hinata goes back to the others and suga checks his phone to see who could have been calling 

✨spoiler alert: it was you ✨

he knows that you know that he has usually practices at this time so he thought it might have been important 

suga excuses himself from the small meeting to answer the call while telling the others that he had to take the call 

“y/n-chan? sorry for not picking up immediately i was in practice, is anything wrong?”

“can i walk home with you today? my parents can’t pick me up and nii-chan ends later than usual today and will talk to his coach after practice,,,”

suga was quiet for a bit and you thought he was gonna say no (for some weird reason) so you speak up again

“bUT it’s totally cool if you can’t cause i know you also have volleyball kou-nii and i can totally try walking alone tonight after i study to not bother you.. actually yeah i’ll just walk home alone sorry for bothering you kou-nii!!!”

you were about to hang up when suga quickly spoke up

“W-WAIT Y/N HOLD ON !! sorry i was thinking about what time we end tonight but of course you can walk home with me !!! did you really think that i would let you walk home alone in the dark when any creepy old man could hurt you??? nope i don’t even want to think about that! meet me here at the gym once you finish and if i’m not done yet by then, you can watch us practice while you wait”

thisiswhyyoulovedsugawarakoushisomuch

“THANK YOU THANK YOU KOU-NII !!! you really are the best cousin i could ever get ! nii-chan could never reach your level tonight :>”

with that, he started reminding you about which door to go through again just in case you forgot before he had to go back to practice

you went back to studying which is business as usual ㅠㅠ

koushi went back inside and the team started asking who it was 

honestly i dont think they see it as nosy cause most of the team is that open with each other 

he just smiles at them and says “oh? it was just y/n-chan. don’t worry”

he goes to put his phone back on the bench before going to the teachers to inform them about you coming in later

everyone immediately started looking at each other and was guessing who you were 

“is y/n suga-senpai’s girlfriend?” kageyama asks

with that, the other first years and the second years went WILDT

they turned to the third years for answers

cause third years know everything about each other right?

lol nope

suga may have mentioned that you started your first year in karasuno but may have forgotten to say your name 

and show what you look like,,,despite the both of you being the closest out of all the cousins 

third years may or may not have had a little best friend crisis

cause what if you really were koushi’s girlfriend and they didn’t know???

we love seeing the collective panic 

they couldn’t even ask about you because they were called to do the next set of drills 

TIME SKIP this is getting long imsosorry

it was around 5:45PM (which means practice is almost over) and you finally finished studying

so you were walking to the gym for koushi 

and you were lowkey nervous cause you never met the team yet

it was a relatively short walk and before you knew it, you could hear the sound of volleyballs and shoes squeaking 

you took a few moments to fix yourself and assure yourself that you weren’t nervous and that you could do it

cause fake it til you make it 

you knocked on the doors and pushed it open 

“excuse me” you say softly so you don’t disturb the others

the boys were still practicing and lucky for you, takeda was able to hear you

“are you y/n?”

you nod and was about to start telling him about why you were there just in case koushi only gave your name

but takeda cuts you off before you could start rambling

“don’t worry, sugawara already told us about you coming here. you can sit beside us on the bench while you wait for practice to finish”

you bow as thanks and introduce yourself to ukai and kiyoko when you reach the bench 

the four of you were caught up in introductions that you guys didn’t realize that you caught some of the member’s attention 

suga was busy helping kageyama with setting that he didn’t see you

the others had to physically hold the second year duo back from reacting loudly to:

a beautiful person interacting and smiling with kiyoko

the third years said not to point you out just incase that suga gets embarrassed 

they did a few more drills and practice was finally done 

you helped kiyoko to distribute the water and towels 

when i say that some of the boys were shy, im lying 

cause all of them were shy

i mean you gave the stuff to those nearest to you who happened to be tsukishima, daichi, nishinoya, and hinata

the first two were calm giving you a small smile and a thank u 

but the other two? they turned into tomatoes when your hand accidentally brushed theirs

honestly surprised how they got to respond with a proper thanks

they were going to ask about what you were to suga when you finally spotted koushi and technically ran to him 

“KOOOUUUSHIIII” 

suga really only had a split second to process before you threw yourself for a hug 

what? you were in two completely different year and club that you didn’t see each other often 

you guys were hugging and in your own world when you heard the team react

“EEEHHHH???? SENPAI/KOUSHI/SUGA SINCE WHEN DID YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!?!?!”

you and koushi just stared at each other and started laughing

ofc the team is just staring like what was funny???

you guys calmed down after a few seconds and koushi finally spoke up and shook his head while still laughing a bit

“so this is why you guys got all quiet and weird when i mentioned y/n-chan.” 

the both of you went near the team and koushi lightly pushed you to introduce yourself

“hi, i’m l/n y/n from class 1-5 and i’m kou-nii’s little cousin”

little ,,, cousin ?

LITTLE COUSIN !!

ohgod you could see the team processing this news cause now that they looked at it, the both of you had somewhat of a similarity 

you might not have the same hair but you did have the famous eye smile and the “sugawara vibe” according to the third years 

koushi then spoke up “y/n-chan asked if she could walk home with me today cause it is dark outside and i didn’t want her to walk alone”

the next few minutes ended up with you talking to the team and just vibing 

the third years were lowkey annoying koushi cause he didn’t introduce you earlier 

not @ kiyoko who talked to the teachers when you ran to koushi asking if she could adopt you as the other manager

the team was just lovely 

lowkey being persuaded by the team to join them 

meeting this lively bunch and being their friend wasn’t something you expected from simply wanting to walk home with koushi 

but if you knew, you would have definitely walked home with him earlier

WAHUUU~! this was longer than i expected HAAHHA i didn’t really expect for this to be this long and this was definitely more all over the place but it felt great to do so after months and months of writing long papers~ please let me know what i could do to improve and i hope you guys enjoyed it 💜

[lightsupinthenorth]

Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3 

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume​, @marianaosborne​, @liglitterbug​, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington​

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess). 

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^). 

I’ll stop rambling now.

*

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.  

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”  

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.  

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

-

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.” He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

A Familiar Soul - Chapter Eight

Summary: Hilda decides to be completely honest with her mother, surprised when she seems to be a lot more in on magic than Hilda had expected her to be.

With her daughter’s association with witches, Johanna is forced to face some secrets of her own, bringing her back to feelings and people she’d rather have left behind

Dealing with insecurities and inner demons of her own, Kaisa finds herself face to face with the very issues that brought her to be so displeased with her own abilities

Or: the one where Johanna is Kaisa’s familiar

Notes: Sorry for being late!! I meant to post this yesterday but Things Happened and I ended up not being able to re-read and edit this chapter on time. Anyway, here’s a longer chapter for having waited longer for it; I’m not going to lie, I’m very excited to share this chapter with you, since I’d say this and the next one are half-way marks of this fic that really split the story in two themes.  Hope you enjoy it!

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8)

 “Hilda, is this really a good idea?”

“Of course it is.” Her words reverberated on the walls of the dark tunnel she was leading them through. There was water on the ground, and Alfur looked down at it with disgust, grateful to be perched on Hilda’s ear and away from it. Tontu was not so lucky. Not only did he have to walk, but also he seemed to be in a constant battle to find a spot where Hilda’s steps wouldn’t accidentally spray the dirty water on him. “I've Talked to the Rat King a bunch of times! We’re friends.”

“Are you, really?” Though the nisse’s voice was filled with sarcasm, Hilda didn’t notice it, focusing on lighting up the way with her flashlight. Alfur shot him a look, telling him to be nice. Hilda was just a child, after all.

“What we mean.” The elf said, even though he’d been trying to make his point since they’d left the apartment to no avail. “Is that perhaps, instead of going to a mythical monster who lives in the sewers for information on your mother’s life, maybe, you should just ask her?”

Hilda waved her beam of light to the left, taking it to the right when she didn’t recognize the passage she saw. The one at the right looked more familiar… didn’t it?

“Mum wouldn’t tell me what I want to know, believe me. There’s something off about all this.”

Her creature companions seemed to resign themselves to the fact that Hilda was not going to let go of this idea, telling themselves that it could be worse. After all, at least they had been invited and would be there should she need them. Knowing Hilda, she might as well have set off on this task by herself, especially in the state she was. Upon arriving home the evening before, after having followed Kaisa all the way to the cemetery, Hilda had barely spoken to her mother. Even Johanna, who had wanted to tell her to not invite people into the house without her knowing, had found it best not to comment on it while Hilda was in that mood.

“I know I’ve never met this Rat King guy.” Said Tontu as he brushed off a spider that had fallen on his sweater. “But are we really supposed to be here? We’ve been walking for some time.”

Now that this had been called to Hilda’s attention, she had to admit that they were taking an unusual amount of time to arrive at their destination. The tunnels were getting smaller and smaller, in a way that an adult would have trouble walking along them, and they continued getting tighter, which made the trio feel as if they were in a funnel. At one point, the passageway stopped getting narrower, and instead opened up to a chamber.

“Is this where we needed to be?” Alfur asked as he noticed mysterious symbols engraved on the stone bricks that composed the chamber. There was no longer water on the ground, but the air was colder somewhy.

“No.” Muttered Hilda, who hadn’t wanted to admit she didn’t know where they were. She was about to retrace her steps back to where they had begun in order to dejectedly try to find what entrance she had gotten wrong, when an enormous figure dropped down from the ceiling in front of them with a bang. In the low lighting, they could only see it’s silhouette towering over them and feel its rotten smell, but when Hilda pointed her flashlight at it, making it roar, they were able to see that the monster was made almost entirely out of garbage - wet strands of hair, cardboard and paper that had been thrown away, used cigars and a great variety of things they feared to even name. It roared with the light, a low pitched and broken sound, showing its teeth of sharded glass.

The three of them screamed and turned for the exit, but just when they did so the creature extended one of its tentacles and blocked the passage with it, trapping them in the chamber. With two others, he picked Hilda and Tontu up.

“What do we do?” He shouted. Unseen to both of them and also to the beast, Alfur had already hopped down from Hilda’s hair to the ground.

“I don’t know!” Instinctively, Hilda was resisting the monster’s grip, trying to make it drop her. Nothing was coming from her efforts.

“I’m going to call Mum! Stay right here!”

“Tontu!” before she could say his name, the nisse had disappeared through the nowhere space. “Alfur, are you there?”

“I am going away, but I’ll be back with help!” He shouted back at her. Though the monster had managed to cover up most of the passage, there was still a spot big enough for Alfur to go through.

“But Tontu is already doing that! You’ll leave me alone with the monster!”

“I don’t think Johanna will be able to do much against this thing, Hilda.” He said, tensing up for the girl when it brought her closer to sniff her. “But I’ll be quick, I promise!”

_#_#_#_

Johanna yelped when Tontu appeared beside her drawing desk in a flash of pink light. This in itself didn’t surprise her, since she had grown used to the nisse popping up randomly around the house ever since he had come to live with them, but the way he grabbed her sweater’s sleeve scared her with its urgency.

“What-”

“Hilda is in danger!” He cut her off, and Johanna was sure that if she could see his eyes, they would be staring right into hers. Those words immediately clenched every muscle in Johanna’s body, her every instinct preparing her to fight.

“Take me to her!”

The first thing Johanna noticed when Tontu took her through nowhere space and to the place her daughter found herself in, was that it definitely was not the park, where Hilda had said she would be. The second was the smell, putrid and rancid and making her want to cough before she was even able to get situated. Lastly, she gasped when she saw her daughter on the ground with a horrid creature’s tentacle wrapped loosely around her waist.

Had she been thinking straight, she would have realized the lack of distress on Hilda’s face, or how she was whispering to the creature who was slowly coming to release her. Being worried out of her mind, however, she was neither able to see this nor hear it, though the latter could be blamed on how her heartbeat was thudding on her ears. Johanna screamed Hilda’s name, which made the girl look at her in shock as she watched her mother lunge in her direction, aiming for the tentacle so it would let go of Hilda.

Although she did hit it, her actions had the opposite effect: the creature screeched in indignation, tightening its grip on Hilda again and lifting her up. Johanna called for her from the top of her lungs, Hilda’s now scared features being the last thing she saw before the sewer monster curled another tentacle around Johanna herself, picked her up and threw her against a stone wall, making the entire world go dark.

_#_#_#_

“Very good.” Kaisa cooed when she finished reading the essay on the influence of Venus on a star chart. Tildy was never fond of making her students write long lengthened texts, since she herself found it to be a bother, but Frida always thought that she fixated a subject better and learned about it more in depth if she made an essay. With that in mind, she had arranged with the librarian for her to look over her writing when she was studying something within Kaisa’s area of expertise. What she hadn’t expected was for Kaisa to know so much about so many things.

“Thank you! I was wondering if you’d be willing to discuss some details within this topic with me?”

Forcing a smile, Kaisa began looking through the books of one of the piles near her. Technically, she didn’t need to be in the library so early on a Saturday morning, but she always arrived earlier to organize the books. Turned out to be better, since that way Frida was able to find her for the bits of help she most certainly didn’t need, but which Kaisa loved to give.

Well, which she usually loved to give. Not long after she began reading Frida’s essay, she started to feel a tingling sensation on the back of her neck, followed by a tightness in her heart like a string had been tied to it and was being pulled. It was extremely distracting, taking her away from the writing all the time, which made her have to re-read the same lines constantly. Kaisa hoped that maybe she was coming down with an illness, or was just feeling off because of not having slept particularly well the night before, because deep down she recognized those signs. It had been so long since she’d felt them, however, that she brushed the possibility away. 

“Or course! Why don’t we meet today after the library closes? I also have this book I think you’ll love.”

There was no time for her to hand Frida the book, though, since she was barely done speaking when a pigeon hit the window near them, making them both turn to look at it. Instead of trying to fly right back, it hit its beak against the glass repeatedly, which caught their attention and caused them to take a closer look at it. It was then that they noticed the pigeon wasn’t alone.

“Alfur!” Frida gasped, opening the window on instinct. Kaisa had already had the opportunity to meet the elf, but never had he been in such an agitated state. He didn’t even bother dismounting the pigeon to talk to them.

“Quick! I need you to come with me!”  The distress in his voice was evident, and a single thought popped in the mind of both witches as they ran to the library’s door: Hilda.

“To the sewers!” He said, flying the pigeon besides them when they ran outside. “Some sort of monster has captured Hilda!”

“Why on earth was Hilda in the sewers?!” Panting, Kaisa gasped. If there was one thing she wasn’t used to doing, it was running, and her lungs were already beginning to burn with the effort. 

“Usually it’s better no to question it.” Frida grabbed her hand to urge her to move faster. Kaisa was concerned by how Frida seemed to know perfectly the way to the sewers, but she supposed that, too, was better to be left unquestioned.

They dashed through the city as though their lives depended on it, knowing very well that Hilda’s might. Kaisa could only hope none of the people they raced by were regular patrons of the library; she didn't think running after a bird with a child would look too professional.

When eventually they reached the opening of the sewer system, they didn’t as much as give it a second thought before proceeding right into the tunnel. Usually, Kaisa would have been more than a little reluctant to enter a smelly hole like that, but the string in her heart was telling her to go, and to go fast. And go fast she did.

After all that was over, both Frida and Kaisa would remember never to doubt Alfur’s memory. Despite only having taken that path down the labyrinth of tunnels once, he never hesitated more than a second to choose when they were faced with more than one possible direction. Not a long time had passed when they began hearing a sound different than that of their feet on the wet stone and their heavy breathing.

“Please.” They could hear Hilda plead in the distance. “We were getting along before, weren’t we? That doesn’t change anything.”

Frida gasped when she heard her friend’’s voice and quickened her pace, with Kaisa struggling to keep up with her. When the tunnel’s walls began to squeeze them in, Kaisa had to bend her head despite being on the shorter side, and with that complication for her Frida went ahead. Worried for Hilda, Alfur barely noticed that the monster’s tentacle was no longer covering the entrance, and they all jumped through the entrance and into the chamber, except for Kaisa who had to stop to wonder how she’d manage to fit through the stone funnel.

“Frida!” From the monster’s grip, Hilda choked. “Go away! What are you doing here?”

The monster turned its eyes, made of five broken light bulbs, to the newcome witch. Though every cell in her body wanted to cower, Frida forced herself to stand her ground, grateful to have brought her wand. The new angle allowed both of the to see something that had been hidden behind the monster: another tentacle was tightly wrapped around the ankles of a prostate figure on the floor, with Tontu by her head trying to check her breathing.

Kaisa’s heart skipped a beat. “Anna!”

Only Frida heard her startled gasp, and she turned to Kaisa with urgency.

“What do we do?” The question was broken by Frida’s scream when the monster lunged forward, trying to get the girl in a amoeba-like movement. As it extended its body to close her in, she jumped back just in time to escape.

“I- I don’t know” Still stuck at the entrance, and knowing that this wasn’t likely to change due to her muscles having frozen, Kaisa could feel herself begin to hyperventilate. She hated it when this happened. Panic only made her brain stop working when it was the one part of her that still worked. When she saw Johanna blinking her eyes open drowsily, she forced herself to think.

“It’s a soppelbunke!” She said when she remembered, growing ever more afflicted as Frida escaped new attempts to capture her. “It doesn’t attack unless its space is invaded.”

“Well, I invaded its space!” Shouted Hilda. “What now?”

“There’s a spell-” 

“Cast it!” After being cornered, Frida shouted as she felt the monster tie her legs together with its tentacle. It lifted her up, though she was upside down, and seemed to analyze her carefully. Even through her haze of dread, Frida recognized that the soppelbunke seemed more curious about her than anything else. She had, however, no intention to find out how long it would take for its interest to shift into something more like hunger.

“What are you waiting for?” Kaisa’s gaze switched back to Johanna, who was now half way to sitting, perching herself up on her elbows; it was clear that she was trying to get up, and that the nisse next to her was doing all he could to stop her. The expectation in her eyes was too much for her to bear.

“No, I- I can’t…” Her voice got smaller with each word she spoke. This wasn’t something she wanted to admit when there were people relying on her. More importantly, this wasn’t something she would want to reveal to Johanna no matter the circumstances.

Although none of them heard her, Hilda and Frida exchanged a look as they both deduced what the problem was. It seemed like the librarian hadn’t quite put their void adventure behind yet.

“Tell me the chant!” The monster had turned to growl at Johanna and Tontu, who had now also been joined by Alfur, and Frida took the chance to try to get Kaisa to speak. There was a gigantic amount of fear in her eyes, but oddly enough, it didn’t seem to be directed at the soppelbunke.

“Kan skitten bly, igjen a ratne!” She finally said as she tried to force her fingers to move and grab her wand. “And make a triangular motion!”

With only her legs bound, Frida was able to grab her wand and pronounce the chant as firmly as she could, drawing a triangle in the air. The creature didn’t even have the time to understand what was happening before a blue blast came from the tip of Frida’s wand and hit it. All the individual components of its body came apart, forming a disgusting pile on the ground, and as soon as they got up, both Frida and Johanna ran to Hilda. 

Johanna tried to take her daughter’s hand into her own. “Hilda, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” The girl huffed as she took her hand back. “Thanks to Frida and Kaisa.”

Johanna retreated at the cold words, and as she was suddenly reminded that Kaisa was there, she turned to look at the chamber’s entrance.

She saw nothing but the tip of a black cape as its wearer walked away.

_#_#_#_

The first thing Hilda did when she arrived home was take a bath. Not only because the stench of the sewers was stubbornly clinging to her, but also because her mother wanted to talk, and she couldn’t think of anything else she wanted to do less in that moment.

She’d been almost there. The monster had been so <em>close</em> to letting her go before her mother popped into the chamber and angered him. Kaisa herself had said that the soppelbunke only attacked when rightfully provoked, everything indicated that it could have been dealt with only through dialogue. Hilda would eternally be thankful to Frida, of course, but before her mother had shown up things had been fine! And now she’d face a scolding for something that wouldn’t even happen if Johanna hadn’t showed up.

The table had been set with the last pieces of a cake Johanna had baked earlier that week, and Hilda sat down in front of her mother. The woman took a deep breath, her hands interlaced in front of her chest.

“Hilda.” Johanna began with a fake facade of calm. She couldn’t say she was angry, per se, but every single one of her nerves felt like they were on fire. ‘On edge’ was the best definition she could give. “Now that you’re safe, I need to know what you were doing in the sewers.”

Hilda sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “What I was doing there doesn’t change what happened, does it?”

“It doesn’t.” The woman had to restrain herself from fidgeting. She didn’t want to ground Hilda; just like she was doing an effort to be more honest, Johanna knew she had to do her part to be more understanding, but goodness, it was hard. She tried to put her child self in Hilda’s place and imagine what she would have liked her parents to do, but her adventures had rarely taken such big and dangerous dimensions, and on the rare occasion that they did, her parents never learned of it. It didn’t go unnoticed by her that there was one sole reason for her to always have been protected: she never went anywhere without her witch.

But she couldn’t very well tell Hilda that.

“I’m just trying to understand if what you went there to do is something that I could have helped. You need to understand that you don’t have to go on these mad chases alone, and you don’t have to go at all if it’s something I can control!”

“Funnily enough, it was something that you would have been able to help.” Hilda said, even more harshly than she had intended. “But if I had thought you would have helped, I wouldn’t have gone all the way to the sewers.”

“Hey, don’t blame me for this!” Johanna protested. “You can’t know whether or not I’ll help if you won’t ask me!”

“Let’s test the theory, then. What did you do?”

Johanna blinked. “Pardon?”

“You must know what I’m talking about. Kaisa said you made her mad.”

“Why were you even talking to Kaisa?!” Logically, Johanna knew Hilda had gone to her after she’d kicked her former girlfriend out of the house, but she’d hoped Hilda wouldn’t actually hear anything she said. “You know you can’t trust her! She didn’t even lift a finger to help us today.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” The intensity of Hilda’s defense startled her mother, and it surprised the girl herself. She’d once been upset at the librarian for freezing when it mattered the most, but she thought she’d now grown past judging people for their insecurities, and Johanna should too. “She did her best! Now please tell me what you did that made her so angry at you.”

Johanna put a hand on her chest to defend herself. “All I did was protect her.”

With a sigh, Hilda got up from her chair. She would never give up on trying to have a good relationship with her mother, but for that particular subject it seemed like the more she tried the worse it got. As she headed back to her room she shook her head in dejection.

“Yeah, I’m beginning to see why she’d be angry about that.”

_#_#_#_

Tildy hadn’t asked why Kaisa was at her doorstep. She hadn’t needed to. The moment she saw her student she could tell Kaisa was on the brink of tears; she’d barely begun pouring them both tea when the librarian spilled the whole story.

“I couldn’t do anything!” She finished with tears already streaming down her face, one drop even falling inside her teacup. Tildy could tell by reading the situation that this called for the sofa. Kaisa always felt better venting when they were both sitting on the couch instead of on a table, and so she gently guided the other woman to stand up from the chair and sit down again.

“Yet everything turned out fine.” Tildy said with her most comforting voice. “So what is this really about, little one?”

There was a beat of silence, the question hanging heavily in the air. 

“I’ve never done right by anyone in my entire life!” Kaisa’s crying turned into a full on bawling. “I couldn’t be the change my mother needed me to be, I couldn’t be the witch you taught me I could be, I couldn’t be the friend Johanna deserved, and now I can’t even be the protection Hilda will require!”

Her apprentice had never been a blunt person, nor much of an emotional one, so the sorceress was taken aback by the sudden flow of honesty. She could tell Kaisa had been holding that back for long, and now it was like a dam had broken and the waves were coming forward and rocking her to her core.

“Kaisa, you are the keeper-”

“So you keep saying!” She blurted out.” But I’m not the keeper of the books! The keepers were great and wise, and all I do is let everyone down! I’m just a librarian, and i’m not even sure I’m good at that.”

She covered her face with her hands, sobbing into them. Part of her wanted to be embarrassed with that behavior, but the other part knew that this was Tildy. If there was one person she could break down in front of, it was her. Surely enough, her old mentor put an arm across her back and pulled her closer, enveloping Kaisa in her warmth and in her scent of cinnamon like she used to do when she was a little girl.

And, like she used to do when she was a little girl, Kaisa wept.

[outlier-rookie]

Of Blood and Greatness - Chapter 1

Chapter 1/?? - The Kid In The Camp

AO3 Link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/64050937

***

“Who’s there?” John’s rough voice called out as Arthur rode back into camp.

“It’s Arthur! You dumbass.” He yelled in reply, receiving a huff in return.

“You’re back. Dutch wants to speak to ya.”

“What’s he want this time?” Arthur asked, drawing his horse to a halt in front of the other man.

“Ask him yourself.” The scared man replied, walking right past Arthur to continue his patrol.

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur guided his horse, a proud Andalusian he’d taken to calling Admiral on account of the stallions headstrong and commanding nature, over to the hitching posts. As he rode over his eyes were drawn to an unfamiliar horse hitched by the camp entrance, waiting patiently and grazing on the tufts of grass at its hooves. It was a gorgeous Missouri Fox Trotter with a clean golden coat and a rich dark mane streaked with blonde. He didn’t spend long studying the horse and instead picked up the buck he’d stowed on Admiral’s back and began trudging over to Pearson’s wagon.

But for the second time in as many minutes, an unfamiliar sight drew his attention. Sitting at the circular table and looking very out of place was a kid. Arthur took a moment to study them as he passed wondering what a young one such as themselves was doing in the middle of a camp of outlaws. The kid couldn’t have been older than thirteen or fourteen and was on the thin side. They weren’t that tall either, wearing a shirt too big for their thin frame with the sleeves rolled up in an effort to make the ill-fitting garment more wearable. In their hands they fidgeted with a ratty old hat and their hair was mattered and dirty giving the impression the kid hadn’t had so much as a bedroll to sleep on. An old memory of when Hosea and Dutch first took him in, and later John, drifted into Arthur’s thoughts as he passed. He’d barely handed the buck over to Pearson when Dutch approached him.

“Arthur, good to see you back, son.” The dark-haired man smiled as he clapped Arthur on the shoulder, directing the younger outlaw back towards the kid sat at the table.

“So what’s going on?” Arthur asked, “John said you wanted to talk to me ‘bout somethin’.” As the two men approached, the kid raised their head and locked eyes with Arthur. Arthur was nearly at a loss for words as the kid stared right into his soul. Their eyes were an almost unnaturally vivid shade of blue; much more intense than his own. What stuck him as odd was the weary look they held. It was the same look he’d sometimes see in Hosea’s eyes. Tired, haunted eyes like that had no place on some kid. Standing, the kid placed the ratty hat on their head and continued to stare at the two men as Dutch started to introduce them.

“This here is, uh.”

“(Y/N). My name’s (Y/N).” The kid filled in.

“Yes, this here is young (Y/N).” Dutch continued, leaving Arthur’s side to stand between him and the kid- (Y/N). “Bold little thing. Road right up into camp saying they wanted to talk to the leader of this gang and wasn’t taking ‘No’ for an answer.” He explained, chuckling lightly as he did. Arthur nodded as he hooked his thumbs into his belt, shifting his weight into a more casual stance.

“Why you coming out here to talk to a bunch of outlaws like us?” He asked watching with a critical eye as the kid hesitated for a moment, their eyes flicking to the ground as they brought their hands together and started picking at the skin around their nails. It took a few false starts before they finally got the words out.

“I want… I want ta join the gang.” Their hands dropped back to their sides and once again Arthur found those piercing blue eyes staring intently at him once more.

“I dunno Dutch.” He started, barely managing to break his gaze away from those haunting blue eyes. “They’re awfully young to be, runnin’ with folk like us.” He said, waving his hand and gesturing to the likes of Bill and Micah.

“I ain’t that young!” (Y/N) snapped.

“Kid, you can’t be more than fourteen at the oldest.”

“I’m fifteen! And I can take care of myself!”

“They why you want to join up with a gang? We ain’t some orphanage kid and we ain’t good people.”

“Now now Arthur.” Dutch cut in, raising his hand between the two. “You were the same age when Hosea and I took you in. And John was much younger.” He argued, drawing an aggravated sigh from Arthur.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea Dutch. Look at em. They’re just a kid. And the world’s changing, cracking down on folks like us. It ain’t safe-”

“I ain’t safe on my own either!” The kid interrupted. “I ain’t been safe since the day I was born. And besides,” They continued, crossing their arms and leaning back on their heels, doing their best to stare down their nose at Arthur, “I don’t come untrained. I can shoot any gun and hit any target and I don’t miss unless the gun fails.”

Arthur stared incredulously at (Y/N) as Dutch let out a hearty laugh.

“And that ain’t the only thing I have to offer.” They continued. “Them fellas, uh. The special lawmen, the uh, the um-”

“The Pinkerton’s.” Dutch supplied.

“Yeah them! The Pinkerton’s are looking for you and are crawling all over Blackwater. But they ain’t looking for me.” Arthur narrowed his eyes and crossed his own arms.

“Whatchu getting at kid?”

“They’re saying, Arthur, that they can get into Blackwater and get our money. We can get out of here and be on our way!”

“I don’t know about this Dutch.”

“I’m with Arthur.” A fourth voice joined the conversation as Hosea strolled up to the three of them. “You’re an avid reader Dutch. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is’?”

“Come on old friend, think of what this could mean for us! All that money we lost at Blackwater, back in our hand. Valentine is only a temporary stop and we need to move soon. With the money from Blackwater back in our hands we can do a hell of a lot more than what we were originally hoping!”

Hosea sighed and continued to argue against it with Dutch when the kid cut in once more, drawing the attention of just about everyone in camp.

“I already got it!”

Dutch and Hosea froze mid-argument.

“What?” Dutch asked and Arthur swore he heard a note of confusion in the older outlaws voice.

“Your money from Blackwater. I already got it, so even if you sent someone back there and they managed to avoid running into the law, you won’t find it.”

Dutch’s earlier lax and cheerful demeanour disappeared as he stepped closer to the kid, his voice low and dangerous. “And how, exactly, did you find out where we hid it if we are to believe you.”

“Adults don’t pay a lot of attention to kids. Even less so if they’re street kids like me. Heard some of them, fancy-looking fellas, talking ‘nd saying they was investigatin’ you and thought they might know where you hid your valuables in case something happened.”

“And you just happened to get there and find it first?” Arthur growled, arms dropping to his side, right hand hovering by his gun. (Y/N)’s eyes followed Arthur’s movements as they too came to rest on the handle of Arthur’s gun.

“Yeah. I did.” They replied sharply, raising their own eyes back to meet his.

A tense silence filled the air as the camp went quiet.

“Stay. Here.” Dutch’s voice finally broke the silence. “Hosea, Arthur, with me.” The three men trekked away towards Dutch’s tent leaving the teenager alone at the table; a quick signal to Javier had the Mexican man nodding as he set himself up to watch the (h/c) teen while the others talked. Once the flaps to the tent had been drawn and fastened, Arthur exchanged a worried glance with Hosea while Dutch rubbed at his chin, his eyebrows creased with thought.

“What’s the plan Dutch?” Arthur softly questioned a hint of worry colouring his words.

“I’m not sure just yet Arthur. Hosea, what do you think?” Hosea huffed before replying.

“I think we continue with the plan to get away from Valentine. We’ve just about outstayed our welcome and it’s time to move on. I think it far more likely that this kid is part of a Pinkerton trap set to catch us.”

“And if they are telling the truth? If they really have gotten our money out from Blackwater and it’s now within our reach? It a lot of money Hosea, if we had that back then we could get the hell out here.”

“Is the slim chance that they are telling the truth worth the lives of everyone in camp Dutch?” The older outlaw returned. “We’ve already lost the Mac, Davey and Jenny. If this kid is luring us into a trap, who else will we lose?” Dutch brought his hand up to his mouth and nodded solemnly at Hosea’s words, though the crease in his brow suggested he was less than happy with the answer he was given.

“And what do you think Arthur?”

Arthur scratched at his stubble, drawing a hissed breathe as he thought about their options. He strongly sided with Hosea. This whole deal of a random kid wandering into their camp, claiming to have possession of their money was already a wild tale. Add on to that the fact they were apparently willing to just hand it back over to them in return for a place in the gang was just confusing. Anyone with half as much brains as Marston who found the money would have taken it for themselves, and yet this kid was here and offering to give it all back to them with not a lot in return. And yet something was stopping him from outright refusing to consider the kid might be telling the truth.

“I want to ask the kid something first.” He finally said. “They gotta have a reason for wanting to join up with folk like us. This kid could have set themselves up for life if they were smart with the money but instead, they’re trying to return it and get in our good graces. I want to find out what that reason is first.” He finished.

Dutch and Hosea were silent for a spell before the eldest outlaw smiled and clapped Arthur on the arm. “And you claim you ain’t a thinker boy.” Arthur tugged his hat a little further over his face as he averted his eyes, muttering a half-hearted argument under his breath before making his way back toward (Y/N). The teen looked up at Arthur as he stopped by the table, silently regarding the young teen before him. Silently, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he kicked a leg up on the short barrel that acted as a chair. The two stared silently at each other as Arthur puffed away before taking the lit cigarette from between his lips and addressed them as Hosea and Dutch watched a short distance behind him.

“Why do you want to join the gang?” He asked slowly, his drawl weighing his words down heavily as he spoke. “You could’ve taken all that money for yourself so why go to all the trouble of bringing it down to us? Worse people than us could have found you and they wouldn’t have had any qualms about robbing and killing some half-starved fifteen-year-old kid sleeping out alone in on the plains.” He paused, taking another drag and lazily blowing out the smoke. “Whatever you want from us must be worth a lot more to you than money.”

(Y/N) didn’t answer straight away. They squeezed their hands tightly and Arthur could barely see them biting their lip from under their ratty hat.

“M’ Dad.” Was the soft reply. Arthur stayed silent and watched as the kid drew a shaky breath. “My auntie. She said that my Daddy is an outlaw. Said that- that he knows the Van Der Linde gang. I just. I want to meet him.” They finished with a shrug.

“What’s your Daddy’s name kid?” Dutch asked, coming up to sit beside the teenager who was suddenly looking much smaller than they did when Arthur first spoke to them.

“I- I don’t-” Again the kid tightly wrung their hands as if it would relieve the emotional pressure they were feeling. “I know what he looks like. That’s all I need. I don’t care if he wants nothin’ ta do with me. I just want him to know that I exist, I suppose.”

Arthur stubbed the end of his cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground, turning to look at Hosea and Dutch who shared a mildly surprised look. Arthur mulled over the information in his head. Fifteen years ago when (Y/N) would have been born, it was mainly Dutch and Hosea finding jobs that he’d sometimes join, while Susan and Bessie looked after John. Uncle might have been around then too but Arthur failed to see any similarities between the drunken old man and the kid who currently looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them.

As Arthur was mulling over everything, Hosea stepped up and took a seat by the teen.

“You mentioned your Aunt earlier, but what about your mother?” he asked gently.

“Don’t have one.” Came a barely legible mumble. Silence once again fell over the group but no one seemed eager to break it this time. Just as he was about to say something, anything really, Dutch beat him to it.

“How far away did you hide the money?”

“W-West of Valentine.”

With a nod, Dutch turned his attention to Arthur. “Arthur, I want you to take Javier and Charles with you and the kid.” Turning back to the kid he continued. “I trust that you aren’t going to lead my boys into a trap.” He said. “If you stay true to your word then there’ll be a place for you among us.”

The kid's face lit up at Dutch’s words. “Yessir!” They cheered; face aglow in the afternoon sun as they turned to Arthur. “We should leave as soon as possible. To be back before the sun gets too low, ya know?” Arthur grunted in response and waved for the kid to mount up. They only took a few steps before spinning back around. “Can I get my gun back?” Dutch shrugged and nodded.

Arthur strolled back over to Admiral, running a hand along the steed’s neck as the horse noses at the satchel hanging by the man’s side. Feeding the stallion a fresh apple, Arthur doubled checked his saddlebags for ammo and supplies while he waited for Charles, Javier, and the kid. Not even five minutes later he was joined by the kid, repeater slung across their back, with Charles and Javier at their heels. They boldly strolled up to the Fox Trotter, smiling brightly as the horse nosed at their offered hand before the kid swung themselves up onto the saddle.

Sparing a place at Charles and Javier and seeing the two men also sat up in their respective horses, Arthur nodded at the kid. “Alright then, lead on.” He instructed with a wave.

“Follow me, gentlemen.”

And with that, they were off.

***

Thank you for your patience! The first chapter for “Of Blood and Greatness” is finally finished!

As a reminder, this is a Red Dead Redemption 2 crossover fanfic as it contains elements of Percy Jackson (you don’t need any prior knowledge of PJO,)

[scripttorture]

Sorry for the multiple asks. In Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom's parents were tortured to what I assume is catatonia by the cruciatus curse. Is this a realistic portrayal of the effects of torture, or does it involve some degree of magical handwaving? If realistic, then would you mind suggesting some avenues, both grounded in reality and more fantastical, by which their condition may be helped?

So I had a long answer written out for this and then it got eaten and I’d deleted my backup (both of them) and don’t you just despise technology sometimes? Join me as I scream into the void.

 Once more, from the top-

 No need to apologise for multiple asks. They are in fact encouraged. I’d rather you looked for answers to your questions then assumed you already know the answer. Thank you for coming to me. Thank you for taking an interest. It really does mean a lot to me to see people engaging with the subject. :)

 It’s been a long time since I read Harry Potter. From what I can remember I don’t think the books handled torture survivors well.

 I think this particular portrayal landed smack bang in ‘torture makes victims passive’. It was also pretty explicitly using that misconception about torture survivors being unable to live full, happy lives or make any kind of recovery.

 You could make the argument that these are magical, rather then the effects of torture. But I don’t think Rowling did any work to show that was the case. From what I can remember the stuff that’s actually in the books just suggests the curse causes pain and… that’s it.

 Which doesn’t stop you from trying to make a bad portrayal better.

 @scriptshrink is the mental health professional in the family and may disagree. From what I can remember I don’t think the description of the Longbottoms in the books was exactly catatonia. It seemed more like a combination of catatonia and late stage dementia to me.

 Which creates a bit of a problem for a narrative arc if you want to treat these characters in a more realistic way. Because catatonia is easily treated now with drugs and late stage dementia is… there’s basically no effective treatment. There are things patients can be given to slow the progression of dementia but what they’ve lost is gone. (I’ve spent quite a long time around people with various forms of dementia and I’m going to cite experience as my source there).

 The reason that’s an issue for a narrative is that there really isn’t a middle ground between ‘take this pill to recover’ and ‘there is no treatment at all’. And that’s not on you, it’s on the source material.

 So, suggestion time: I do have a few different ideas depending on what you want from a recovery arc and how you want to characterise Wizard culture in your story.

 Let’s assume that (like catatonia) this fugue state survivors of the curse are in is easily treatable. What happens when you take it away? When survivors are present, not dissociating and remember what happened to them?

 Well suddenly you get confronted with an actual torture survivor with all the loud, messy, complex mental health problems that implies.

 And if you don’t know a lot about mental health? Then it looks like you went from someone who is calm and ‘at peace’ to someone who is incredibly distressed and obviously in pain. It also means you went from someone biddable and ‘easy to handle/care for’ to someone who is exponentially less likely to put up with shit. Someone who demands explanations, cries hysterically, has panic attacks or flashbacks.

 With that sort of big visceral difference- A culture that doesn’t know how to deal with mental illness might well decide survivors are ‘better off’ in that fugue state.

 Because it would probably be easier to take care of a quiet, unemotional drone then to deal with trying to help someone with severe, complex mental health problems.

 With that kind of cultural background the dementia-like state might actually be the result of the treatment survivors are given. Because they’re ‘better off this way’.

 This would give you a much more traditional recovery arc in your story but by its nature demands a narrative discussion of how mentally ill people are treated by society. Which may not be something you want in the story.

 The other main suggestion I had was to treat this fugue state and this unrealistic depiction of memory loss as if it’s part of the curse itself.

 The cruciatus curse is supposed to be designed to cause the maximum amount of pain, so why not factor lasting generational pain into that? Stripping away important, foundational memories with longer use of the curse seems like it could be an additional terror tactic.

 ‘It doesn’t matter if they survive. It doesn’t matter if you rescue them. You’ll never get them back.’

 In that kind of scenario you’d probably end up with a different recovery arc, one that’s as much about magic as mental health. And I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing when you’re explicitly dealing with something magical.

 If you wanted a plot line involving some kind of magical quest this would be a really good fit. I think it would also work well with a more… straight forwardly heroic story? There’d be less of the cultural and moral arguments that are naturally brought up if you’re talking about cultural attitudes to different medical treatments. It would also be a good pick if you want to lean into the intelligence/research skills of some of the canon characters: a combination of cleverness and compassion resulting in a breakthrough that saves the day.

 I’ll finish off with a short general discussion about writing torture survivors realistically and writing them in fantasy.

 I’ve got a post on the common long term symptoms of torture here. And I’ve got a post on what memory problems look like in survivors here.

 We don’t have a way to predict symptoms. Different individual survivors get different sets of symptoms and we’re not sure why. Because of that variation I think that it’s best to treat symptoms as a writing choice.

 Pick symptoms based on what you think adds to the story and creates interesting narrative opportunities. If a symptom emphasises the themes in your story, creates good opportunities to show the readers something about the characters or makes for interesting conflict then it’s a good choice. Conversely if a particular symptom doesn’t appeal to you or you don’t want to write it for any reason, feel free to choose something different.

 I stress realism and writing survivors realistically. I don’t do that because I think fiction ‘must’ be realistic. I do it because the ways we choose to break with reality matter.

 And right now most of the ways we choose to be unrealistic tacitly support/condone torture.

 The majority of the time that’s not the author’s intention. I certainly don’t think it was Rowling’s intention here. (I’ll admit I haven’t been keeping up with her string of controversies but I don’t think active support for torture was ever among them.)

 But these tropes keep getting repeated. Partly because finding accurate information on torture is hard. It’s difficult to search for. It often costs money. A lot of it just isn’t translated (I’m actually saving up to get a bunch of core texts translated into English when the plague is over.) And oh boy do not get me started on the lack of inter-disciplinary communication because I will go off like an unplanned quench of an NMR’s super magnets.

 These are issues that hamper academic researchers to a huge degree. It’s no wonder they impact non-specialists trying to make sense of this mess.

 Having said all of that: I think that we should make space for metaphor and fantastical elements in our fiction.

 The issue is passing off tropes that are unrealistic and harmful as if they’re fact.

 I have significant issues with portraying torture survivors as passive objects. I think it really hampers general understanding of torture and ethical treatment of survivors today. It encourages people to think that real survivors are ‘faking it’ because they don’t look like the passive objects we see portrayed in fiction.

 That said, if a story explicitly states that what it’s doing is magical and unrealistic, it should be less of an issue.

 I do not think that’s what Rowling did in this particular portrayal. I think she presented a curse that the audience was supposed to read as only causing extreme pain and she linked that to the idea of pain turning people into passive objects. You can remove the magic from this scenario and it’s unmistakably torture apologia.

 But I can imagine alternatives where a fantasy story could separate these things out. It would be hard work and require a lot more focus on the curse itself.

 Say you have a fantasy story that takes one of the non-Western approaches to ideas about human souls. Particularly the idea that our memories and experience constitute a separate spiritual part of ourselves.

 Magic that stole and imprisoned that portion of someone would, by the logic of the magic system, create something a little like this catatonia/late-stage-dementia symptom set Rowling presents. And I think if that was presented, divorced from ideas about pain and what suffering ‘should’ do to people- Well it’s no longer really talking about torture. It’s talking about a fantastical scenario.

 We’re not really used to thinking through the implications of where we break with reality. But it does get easier with practice.

 I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[writersrealmbts]

Joining His Pack: Trials

Description: Sanctuary Series: Joining His Pack. Things have been crazy since you fell ill, and there isn’t really an end in sight.

Warnings:

Posted: 05/12/2020

Tags:  Hybrid Namjoon, Wolf Hybrid Namjoon, Wolf Hybrid Reader

Angst/Fluff: 2,845 words

A/N: Only one part left after this one!

You looked around with wide eyes, wrapped in a thicker coat than would normally be necessary for this time in May. But ever since your mini-heat reaction to the suppressants—which just meant you’d have a bigger one in a few months, that’s how you always reacted—you’d been a little temperature sensitive. You walked around Namjoon’s apartment wrapped up in blankets, and wore lots of sweaters and all of his sweatshirts (he didn’t seem to mind).

But you were starting to get better, finally. And court dates had been set.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Namjoon replied, grinning.

You huffed and leaned back.

He turned down a gravel drive.

You sat up straighter, frowning slightly, until finally a house came into view.

Your house.

Your den.

Home.

You looked at him excitedly. “Is it...?”

“It’s ours, baby. We closed the day after you were discharged, but I wanted to get the windows in before I brought you.” He parked, and turned to grin at you.

You’d still been out of it when discharged, but it wasn’t anything that the doctors were concerned about. Just more side effects from the suppressants, but it had kept you mostly bedridden and groggy and not too aware of the passing of time. The pack had been visiting to keep you company while he was at work and whatnot, especially the pack pups because they helped give you more clarity throughout the day. Plus, who wouldn’t want to cuddle pups?

But this was exciting. This explained why the past couple of days you couldn’t find things that you swore you knew the locations of. This explained why he didn’t want you going to your place to get things.

“We’ve got it fixed up enough to live in, not perfect, but enough. Enough for us to be comfortable. And we moved your stuff in already. My family has been sneaking stuff out of my place all week.” He looked pretty proud of having surprised you with this.

You squealed and threw yourself across the console to kiss him. “This is the best surprise ever. I love you. I love you. I love you.” You peppered his face with kisses, ignoring his embarrassed laughter and finishing with a quick peck on his lips before you hurried out of the car to take in the sight of your house.

Even though he said they’d only done a few things, you could tell it had to be more than that. The windows looked completely replaced, the siding looked like it had a fresh coat of paint, and the porch had temporary supports. Everything looked cleaner, and the garden beds had been cleared of weeds and carefully planted.

“You happy?” He asked softly, wrapping his arms around you.

“Aren’t you?”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’d carry you over the threshold, but—”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort. You already re-injured yourself while taking care of me during that mess, I’m not risking your well-being now.” You hit him lightly, then bounced. “Let’s go in!”

He laughed and took your hand, leading you up the porch and to the (brand new) front door, unlocking it and letting you enter first.

You looked around, breathing in air that smelt slightly of your pack, slightly of cleaners like pine-sol, and fresh air. Then lilac, from the bouquet of lilacs on the fireplace mantle. “Just enough to live in, huh?”

He was quiet, and when you looked back, he looked just as shocked at the sight of new flooring, and freshly painted walls. “I…they…must have worked on it more since last time.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around his waist to just take it all in for a moment before gasping and rushing through to see the kitchen again.

The thorough cleaning made your adorable kitchen even better. They’d replaced the dingy light-fixture with a new one, which was really nice because if you remembered correctly it didn’t even make it to the counter below it.

And the master bedroom had a bed in it—that you promptly flopped on—and the room smelled like you and Namjoon, with subtle undertones of the pack (especially the littlest two of the pack pups, which you figured wasn’t too surprising since this blanket was the softest one you owned.

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” You exclaimed into the bedding, breathing in his scent. The way it mixed with yours. The slightly milky smell of pups.

He flopped down next to you.

“But…what are you going to do about your apartment?”

“Oh, well, Jimin’s landlord actually is a jerk and he tried to rip them off, so they’re going to move in there for now. Save up for a place they actually want for a while, and then Yoongi’s said he wants it if he can manage to get a transfer.”

You made a happy sound, and wiggled closer, resting your head on his arm. “So, are we sleeping here?”

He nodded. “If that’s okay with you?”

You nodded. “Do we have clothes here?”

“You definitely do. I’ve got some clothes here. Enough to supply me for work for the next few days.” He sighed as he relaxed. “But I can also stop by after work tomorrow and get more of our stuff.”

“You’re sure they’re okay with you missing as much work as you have?” You asked quietly, resting a hand on his chest.

“They understand, and I’ve been working from home most days where I couldn’t leave you, so I’m not exactly behind. Actually, they seemed pretty happy to let me have Tuesday off because apparently I’m ahead of everyone.” He stretched, making your head drop to the bed.

You sighed, pouting slightly at the loss of your pillow before rolling back to your feet and bouncing out to the kitchen. “Do we have food here?”

“Knowing my family? Probably.”

You opened the fridge and freezer simultaneously and grinned. “Your pack is the best.”

“They’re your pack too, baby.”

“Not yet.”

“You know I couldn’t mate you while you were sick,” He called softly.

“I know. And I do consider them my pack, but it’s still more natural to call them your pack. Oooh! Ice cream!” You grabbed the container and hugged it briefly before putting it back. “So, I was thinking.”

“Uh oh.” He came in and leaned against the counter while watching you pull out one of the dishes someone left for you two.

“Preheat the oven? 375,” You told him, reading the instructions. “Anyway, Ariel mentioned that her one friend just started her own little shop where she sells jams, preserves, candies, and ice-creams and that she was looking for someone to help for the summer. Maybe I could see if she would hire me?”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I’m basically fired from the clothing shop, and even if it is just for the summer, it would still be some little bit of income. Enough to help us with groceries, because lets face it, we eat a lot of meat.” You went to him and kissed him gently. “Besides, how crazy do you think I would go without something to occupy my time? I mean, we’re going to have some gardens and I really do want to work on our Christmas trees, but it’s going to take some time.”

He was smiling down at you softly, and his fingers gently brushed your cheek. “This is the most rational you’ve sounded in a while, baby. It’s nice to hear.”

You hugged him. “Sorry I’ve been such a mess.”

He chuckled. “Hey, you put up with the messes I make.” Then he kissed the top of your head. “You’re my little wolf. I would cross the world for you. I can handle a little messiness.”

You relaxed, breathing him in until the oven beeped to let you both know that it had finished preheating.

He put the dish in the oven while you set a timer and got out the strawberries and started washing them.

“But the store thing, good idea or not?”

“As long as it doesn’t become too stressful for you, baby, I think you should try for it. After we settle all of this legal stuff.” He took a strawberry and popped it into his mouth.

“I didn’t take the stems off,” You said, staring at him in surprise. “I mean, they’re edible...but probably pretty bitter.”

He nodded, turning away to pull the stem from his mouth.

You smiled at your mess of a mate. “My dorky baby.”

He chuckled, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Hungry, honey bunch?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You ready to eat?”

“Isn’t that why you’re washing the strawberries?” He countered, but he was still flustered as you pressed flirty little kisses to his neck. His hands found your waist.

“Mmhmm,” You agreed, on your toes to nibble on his ear.

“Babe…you’re still recovering.”

You nodded, humming agreement before sliding your hands over his torso and promptly turning away and running with the bowl of strawberries. “Mine!”

He sputtered, then laughed and chased after you, catching your waist and then pulling you to sit down beside him on the couch. Then he stole a berry and took a bite.

You giggled and took your own berry, looking around the room. “This is a nice couch.”

“We needed a second for this room, especially if we’re going to have family visiting. Micheal said he’d get our furniture moved this weekend. He’s got a couple of guys he needs to train, and Becca’s going to oversee it all for us. But I thought it’d be best if we weren’t around. Don’t want to wolf out on them.”

“Maybe we should go visit Yoongi and Taehyung,” You said between bites.

He smiled. “I’ll see if they’re free. We’ll have to take Eunyeong something.”

“Of course, she’s the cutest kitten and deserves all the love,” You chirped, snuggling up to him. “But maybe don’t check until after the meeting with the lawyers and the court stuff on Tuesday.”

He nodded, smile fading. “Yeah. Probably a good idea. Might want to stay home. Near the majority of the pack.”

“In which case we’re going to Emma’s and cuddling the twins.”

He nodded again, but looked distracted.

You watched him, just admiring his face while also trying to guess what he was thinking. “Are you worried about Tuesday?”

He took a deep breath and held your hand. “The last time anyone I loved was part of a court case…it was Emma. And it ended in this town giving the rights back to hybrids. Jin was the only one that went with her, he was certified as an aide-hybrid. Not because Emma really needed him, I mean, she did, but mostly because she wanted to give him as much freedom as she could. Yoongi-hyung and I were watching…but Hoseok, Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung couldn’t sit and listen. It was taking too long and some of it hit too close to home. They were outside, working in the garden just to avoid it.”

“I remember,” You whispered, squeezing his hand.

He squeezed it back. “That day changed our lives and…whatever the outcome on Tuesday…that will change both of our lives. Again. And I’m hoping for the better, I do trust these people. But…if we lose…I think I’ll lose more than I would have if we lost that day.”

You hummed. “You’re going to have to be on your best behavior.”

He nodded, but he didn’t seem very confident.

“But Namjoon, I think…I think you might need to stay away. Other than when you’re called upon. This is going to be…bad. It’s going to be really bad. And if either of us misbehaves we risk everything.”

He sighed, eyes closing and holding you tighter. “I know.”

“Maybe they can arrange for a separate room for you to watch in?”

“Maybe, I’ll ask Emma later.” He sounded a little relieved, and managed to relax a little as you snuggled in, scenting him a little.

You sighed softly, enjoying this moment, just in case.

His fingers lightly caressed your hair.

You frowned. “The fireplace mantle is crooked.”

He started laughing. “House still needs some improvements, baby.”

“But how is the mantle crooked!”

————

“They can’t prove it!”

“Neither can we,” The lawyer said calmly. “We can deny any false evidence they bring forward and hope our true does as well. We can only hope that the judge is as upstanding as they say and that the jury can see past the falsehoods created by the opposition.”

Emma huffed and sat down again, crossing her arms and thinking.

Jin calmly rubbed her back. “Y/n, is there any sort of concrete evidence you can provide?”

“Bank statements and pay stubs, which would show that I didn’t have any money other than what I was paid when I opened the account, and that she wasn’t originally on my account. The rental agreement with the Sanctuary. That’s about it,” You answered quietly.

Namjoon looked up. “All of these are trumped up charges. Theft? Assault? Public indecency? Disturbing the peace? Prostitution?!” He stood and went to the window, obviously angry.

“These papers will help disprove many of those charges. However, the one I’m most concerned with is the assault charge. We’re countering their charges with our own charge of defamation and wrongful arrest, but the case for the assault is fairly solid.”

“How so?” Emma asked, sounding tired.

“They have medical records from injuries incurred by here—or so they’re claiming. And they have a video of her attacking someone.”

You frowned.

“What?” Namjoon growled.

“Y/n, I need you to tell me right now, have you ever stabbed anyone in the leg?” The lawyer asked.

“No, I threatened to, but only because he was was being an asshole. I never did it and I left to make sure it would never happen.”

“And this video of you punching a security guard at the Sanctuary.”

Namjoon growled. “He understood. They’re twisting the situation.”

“Which security guard was it?” Emma asked.

“Yugyeom,” You answered. “And I gave him cookies to make up for it.”

Jin nodded and pulled out his phone.

Emma rolled her eyes. “He probably deserved it. But we can get him here and have him testify. I’m sure JB and Mark will sign off on that.”

“Is he still under their guardianship?” Namjoon asked.

Emma nodded. “All of them are, technically. But since they’re close it’s not an issue. It just means that they’ve got a safety net. Same as you all, we freed you but we also adopted you as our children.”

Micheal nodded. “They’re more like brothers so they didn’t want to go that route.”

Jin was talking lowly and you were grateful you couldn’t hear the conversation. You were stressed enough.

Emma quietly took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Alright, he’s on his way.”

The lawyer nodded. “I’ll go notify them that I have another witness.” He gathered his things and walked off, signaling Micheal to walk with him.

Namjoon was taking slow, deep breaths. “I hate this.”

You closed your eyes.

“I know,” Emma said softly, lightly smoothing your hair. “I know you’re both frustrated. I am too. But we’re going to take care of this, even if it takes us more time than we originally thought.”

Jin was watching Namjoon. “Sit down, Namjoon,” He ordered, a slight edge to his voice.

Namjoon did as told, only hesitating for a second before complying with the pack leader’s order.

“You’re making me anxious just watching you,” Jin explained, sounding relieved now that Namjoon was sitting. “Emma, why don’t you stay back here with Namjoon and I’ll go back out.”

She nodded. “I’m going to call and check on the kids.”

He pecked her on the lips, then met your gaze. “It’s about time to head back.”

You nodded, getting up with extreme reluctance and nuzzling Namjoon’s head before following Jin out.

Jin waited until you both were out of earshot before pausing, turning to you. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. You have every right to be more frustrated and upset than any of us.”

You sighed, looking at the ground. “I just want to go home. We thought this would all be settled on Tuesday. Last Tuesday.”

He reached over and adjusted your scarf—bathed in the scent of your mate to help keep you calm—then rested his hands on your shoulders. “I know it’s asking a lot, but please try to bear with us for another hour. Okay?”

You nodded, feeling safe at the very least with your pack leader looking out for you.

“But if they try to take you anywhere, you get over that barrier and behind me. They can’t legally take you anywhere, okay?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

“Hey, court’s in session,” Micheal called.

You followed them back to the court, awaiting your fate.

——

Previous Part.   Next Part.

Masterlist.  Series Masterpost.

[sincerelyreidburke]

ooh also 4 for Bri and Reid because I love them

Friends! Romans! Countrymen! ARE YOU READY for some good shit?!?! I say this because this is my very first time writing Reid/Bri! I mean, they’ve been in the background a few times in drama club stuff, but I’ve never actually gotten to focus on them. Toby enables me, because xe loves me.

“Who’s Bri?” Reid’s girlfriend!

In today’s episode of prompts, you will get a glimpse into Reid’s post-graduation life! If you want to read more about what’s in store for him after Kiersey, you can check out this post. And even this one, too, if you’d like.

Here, you’ll see a Reid two years removed from graduation and a little down on his luck. You also finally get to see inside his brain. *Slaps hood of Reid Burke* This bad boy can fit so much mental illness in him.

From this list of sappy prompts, which I am still accepting and filling as we speak!

4. “Shut up and kiss me.”

two years after (reid's) graduation | may

 Reid considers himself spectacularly efficient when it comes to fucking things up.

He knows this. Has always known it. He figures it’s a good thing to be self-aware, at least. He’s probably one of the more self-aware human beings to ever have a conscience, come to think of it, given the amount of time he spends policing his own every action. But still. There has to be some benefit in being so well aware of your own flaws that you can constantly predict your fuck-ups before they even happen. It’s like damage control when the damage hasn’t even set in.

Anyway. Reid knows he’s good at fucking up. But if there’s one thing he would really prefer not to fuck up, it’s Bri’s birthday.

Easier said than done.

When midnight strikes on the day she’s turning 24, he’s not even home, which is the first reason he feels guilty and useless. He’s at work, apron around his waist, tie done up too tight, sneaking glances at the clock across the room in between customers and refills. He wishes he had his phone on him, as the minute hand lines up with the second hand at the 12. He could at least text her. He could make up for the fact that he’s not there in person, to ring in the first moments of the day. But his phone is in the back, in his locker, because this is the best-paying place he works at, and he doesn’t want to risk his employment by getting caught with a phone by his manager. Or worse, a nosy customer, who will subsequently rat him out to his manager, and, well— yeah. Not to mention the fact that it’s usually so fast-paced in the bar that there’s no time to check your phone anyway.

The point is. He wishes he could text Bri. But he can’t. It’s probably for the best. She’s probably not even awake. It would actually be bad if she were awake. A healthy sleep schedule is something she deserves.

Actually, she deserves a lot. The entire world. A lot more than Reid has ever been able to give her, and there isn’t a day that goes by when his brain fails to remind him of that particular fuckup in his life thus far. But tonight, he shouldn’t think in huge terms. Tonight, he should just worry about her birthday.

Man, he wishes he were home in bed.

The strike of midnight, although it provides something to focus on, isn’t even the sign of his shift nearing an end, because the bar doesn’t close until 2:30, and the latter two and a half hours of work wind up passing by even more slowly than the beginning of his shift did. When he finally sees his last customer out, after last call, and he’s the only lonely, lingering person in the place— then, the end is in sight. He has closing chores ahead of him, but at least he doesn’t have to wait around to go home anymore.

It’s nothing that out of the ordinary, really, to be working this late. Between three jobs and sneaking in open mic nights between them any chance he can, he can’t remember the last time he had a night entirely off. Or a day, honestly, and tomorrow— or today, since it’s past midnight— isn’t any exception. He has the lunch shift at the street diner he works at, and the jury’s still out as to whether he’s going to bag his shift at the second bar he works at tomorrow night.

All of this is to say: he’s working a lot. Which is fine. Work means money, which means staying alive, especially with the New York cost of living he’s gotten used to since they moved here after graduation. It’s a necessary part of life. He just wishes life could stop, for one day, so he could do this right. So he could at least give her something, to make up for all the areas in life where he’s lacking. Where he’s an extremely underwhelming excuse for a future husband.

And, look— he did actually get her a present, so that’s not the issue here. It’s more the lack of time. It’s more the overwhelming sense that, despite her stability, despite the fact that she’s stuck with him for six years, he doesn’t deserve this patience, and that one day she might finally come to her senses and decide that she doesn’t feel like waiting around while he slums it in New York and tries to make it big, that she wants, like, a normal life, with a partner who makes a salary and a house or at least an apartment with more than one room and, like, basic predictability and success—

Ugh.

For now, for this very early morning, he won’t think about all of that, no matter how much it rings in his ears as he cleans up and closes the bar. For now, he just wants to make sure Bri has the most perfect morning possible. And to do that, he has a checklist.

Step one: finish work. He considers that done as he locks the front door of the bar, and steps out onto the street. It’s kind of breezy but not exactly cold out, since Bri’s birthday marks the last day of May, and summer is pretty much here. It’s not really busy outside on the street, but he’s not the only one out, either. Rule number one of New York City: you are literally never the only person out and about, no matter what time of day it is.

Step two: the bodega. It’s on his walk, open twenty-four hours, and he stops there so often at weird hours of the night after work shifts that he’s established a rapport with the cashier who works the red-eye shift. “Eyyyyyy,” he sings, as he swings through the door into the small, artificially lit space. “What’s up, Charlie? You working hard, or hardly working?”

Actually, it’s not so much a rapport. It’s more that he’s constantly the loudest customer who graces this place between the hours of midnight and four in the morning, and Charlie probably hates him, but still tolerates his presence. So.

He needs flour, half a dozen eggs, a tied-up bunch of yellow and white flowers, and rainbow sprinkles. He also slides three Red Bull onto Charlie’s till, and then grins across the counter to remark, “The necessities.”

Charlie grunts or maybe chuckles, and scans his stuff. “Right.”

Step three: get home and get to work.

It’s, like, six minutes on foot from work to the bodega, and then four more to the subway stop, and then the subway is a whole host of issues that land him back at the apartment building around 3:30 in the morning. Bri’s alarm goes off at 6:30 for work, and he figures he can intercept her for a proper birthday breakfast before she goes to the gallery. Given that he kills one of the Red Bull from the bodega while he’s in transit to get home, he is at least ninety percent confident that there’s no point in not pulling an all-nighter.

It’s fine. He’s not even tired. He has stuff to do, anyway.

The apartment is dark when he gets in, and he tries to make the smallest amount of noise, which, when you think about it, is kind of pointless because it’s only one room and any noise he makes could count as a disturbance, but— but— Bri isn’t a light enough sleeper to wake up at that kind of stuff. A fact he is grateful for. So he puts the bag of groceries down, gently, on the counter, and turns the light on over the sink while he loosens his tie. Or more like yanks it off. The uniform at that job is seriously not his style, but you take what you can get.

Across the room, where their bed is tucked up into the corner, Bri is asleep. Thank Christ. He would be concerned if she weren’t. While he gets out of his work clothes, he looks at her in bed— she’s peaceful, and looks comfortable, and he kind of wants for a second to just crawl into bed with her, but if he does that, he’ll never get anything done in time, and she’ll wake up to a normal old morning. With nothing special. On her birthday.

She doesn’t deserve that.

When he’s finished changing, it’s 3:41 Apple time. The morning is young. He sneaks a kiss to the top of her head and pulls the covers a little higher over her shoulders, then slides across the room in his socks, back to the kitchen side of the apartment.

Sure, he’s great at fuck-ups. But he’s not going to let this one be a bust.

*

It’s a quick three hours.

He blames executive dysfunction. Time passes too quickly when he’s on a crunch, literally every time. He starts with her card, which he bought a few days ago— writes it out, seals it into its envelope, and weighs it down with the corner of one of her vases, which he fills with water and puts the flowers in. It’s glass-blown, psychedelic colors; she made it in the glass studio junior year at Kiersey, and it followed them to New York.

With that done, he gets all his ingredients out for breakfast. He can’t start cooking at 4 in the morning, but he can get ready— a bowl out on the counter, their one good frying pan on the griddle, dry ingredients for pancakes measured out. He’s not the most versatile cook in the world, but he makes a mean Kraft Dinner, and this, too, he can do— birthday cake pancakes. With sprinkles. It’s Bri’s favorite breakfast.

He doesn’t know how it winds up being 6:30. He loses time, doing all of this and also nothing at all. He’s two and a half Red Bull deep, mixing up the actual pancake batter, when Bri’s alarm tone across the room pulls him out of his haze.

“Shit,” he hisses, and nearly knocks over his frying pan. It’s 6:30 already? The kitchen is a mess, and he’s been stuck in the distractible part of his brain for the better half of the past two hours, and now he looks like he’s made a huge mess, and—

The alarm stops going off, and he hears the mattress shift. He’s rinsing off the questionable spatula he’s been using to mix the batter in the sink when he hears her voice. “Babe?”

“Hey— hey, good morning.” He turns, and puts his back to the counter, like it’ll hide the actual disaster he’s created. “Happy birthday,” he adds. “Did you sleep okay?”

Bri is sitting up halfway in bed, and she doesn’t answer his question. “What are—” She yawns, and holds a hand to her mouth, which is really fucking cute, the way her eyes get all wrinkled up like this, and he just— loves her, and wishes he weren’t so useless, wishes he could give her the world. When she finishes her sentence, her voice is raspy. That’s cute, too. “What’re you doing over there?”

“I’m, uh.” And busted. He might as well own up to the mess. “Well, I realize now that it looks like a bomb went off in here, but don’t worry; I’ll fix it. I was just— well, breakfast. I’m making breakfast. But it’s not ready yet. It will be. Promise.” He lets all his breath out at once, then tries a grin. “But did you? Sleep okay?”

Again, she doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she swings her legs off the side of the bed, and gets up to walk across the room. He meets her halfway, as she’s combing back her hair, a blonde, wavy, bedhead-y and beautiful mess. She’s in pajama shorts and a tank top, and he may be sleep-deprived and totally useless, but he is the luckiest guy on this planet. “How long’ve you been up?” she asks.

He rests his hands, gently, on her waist, and looks down to meet her eyes, which are hazy with sleep but always so fucking pretty. “I… don’t know if you would love the answer to that question,” he replies, because she’d see right through him even if he wanted to lie about it.

She smiles, but it’s a sympathetic expression, like she can see the Red Bull coursing through his veins or some shit like that. “Answer anyway.”

“Um.” Okay, busted. For real this time. While she hooks her arms around his neck, he tries to gather an explanation. “Okay, so I may not have slept, but hear me out, okay? I wanted to make sure I had stuff in a row so that when you woke up, it’d all be good for you, since I know we kinda have, like, a limited window here, and I didn’t want you to just have to eat, like, peanut butter toast on your birthday, right? Like, that would suck, and also, I was already up because of work, and I had stuff to do anyway, so basically, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t sleep at all, but on the bright side, there is pancake batter ready for you, and I promise I’m gonna clean up all the cooking shit ASAP because I know it looks like a war zone in this kitchen right now—”

“Reid.”

He stops. Her voice is gentle, and she’s smiling— it’s not the pity smile anymore, but just a regular smile. She threads her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he breathes, almost instinctively. “Sorry. That was so much. You just woke up. Hi. I love you. Happy birthday. You look really hot right now.”

Bri laughs, and leans up, on tiptoe, until her forehead is right on his. “Reid,” she repeats, even more gently, and he lets out all his breath again, closes his eyes. “Take a deep breath.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He tries to do as she says. It’s really not hard to breathe; he just forgets that’s a necessary bodily task from time to time. No big whoop. “I promise I’ll clean it up. And I’ll make the pancakes, and— wait, shit!” The realization hits him all at once, and his stomach sinks. “Shit. Fuck. I don’t think we have whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream?” Bri asks, and she sort of laughs, like she’s confused, but this is very bad, because that’s a necessary part of any balanced pancake breakfast, right?

“Fuck,” he repeats, and then groans, bumping his forehead against hers lightly. “Fuck, babe; I’m so sorry. I knew I was forgetting something. I can go out, though. Maybe while you shower? I can get it on the corner—”

“Babe,” Bri says, and it occurs to him that he has once again forgotten to breathe. But when he meets her eyes again, she’s smiling, kind of laughing, and she shakes her head. “Shut up.”

“What?” He blinks. His glasses fog up a little, with how close their faces are, and he squints through them toward her. “I really will go out and get it. What are birthday pancakes without whipped—”

Bri slides her hands up to either side of his face, and she shakes her head again. “Just shut up and kiss me, okay?”

The pit leaves his stomach, and he stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he says, and then laughs, too. “Okay. I can do that.”

It’s a kiss that stops the racing in his brain, which it really always does; she just knows how to do that by existing. It becomes two, and then three, and when they pull apart, Reid can breathe normally again.

“You didn’t have to stay up all night because of me,” she tells him, voice still gentle, eyes still on him.

“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I didn’t really— I mean, I really didn’t want you to have a lame morning.”

“Well, that was very sweet of you,” she replies. Her eyes are catching the sunrise light that edges in through the window. He could get distracted by that. By her body. By every freckle on her face. He is, after all, easily distractible. “But,” Bri adds, “as long as my morning has you in it, I promise you, there’s nothing lame about it.”

He laughs, and kind of feels sheepish, like he might be blushing. “Okay.” He doesn’t deserve her, but he’ll take her at her word.

“C’mere.” She pulls him down for another kiss, and, yeah, this he can do. The apartment is way too small, and he is a human disaster, but she loves him anyway, for some reason he still can’t figure out, and he’ll never stop being grateful for that.

“Thank you,” she says, when they pause to breathe again. “I’m excited for pancakes.”

“I’ll make them good,” he assures her, and she laughs.

“I know you will,” she replies, and then smiles with half her mouth, so her one dimple shows, and that is fucking adorable. Holy Christ. He might be sleep-deprived, but if looks could kill… “But,” she adds, with that smirk still lingering, “not yet.”

“Not yet?” he echoes, and blames the sleep deprivation for how slow the realization is. “Right, yeah. Because you should shower, right? Get ready for work?”

“I think I have a distinct amount of time before I actually have to be ready for work,” she replies, and ohhhh. Oh. Okay.

This, too, he can do.

“I think I understand you,” he tries.

Bri winks. “You definitely understand me,” she says, and then grabs him by the hand and pulls him back toward their bed. “And plus, it’s my birthday.”

He almost makes a birthday suit joke, and then decides that puns are not an effective method of seduction today. Not that Bri really needs seducing. Right this second, anyway.

“I’m so honored,” he says, instead, and grins when she pushes him down to sit on the edge of the mattress. He holds her by the waist and waits, still smirking. “You mean to say you want me to be your present?”

“Something like that,” she replies, with a shrug, and then pushes him so he falls backwards, and he gets exactly three seconds to laugh at the ceiling before she’s kissing him and he gets to move on to something much, much better than rambling about his failures as a boyfriend in the middle of the kitchen.

Breakfast can wait.