#my dad who was full of stories and love is now just filled with rage and politics

[foldingfittedsheets]

My mom has always loved the idea of animals but her husbandry is often… lacking. So when she heard someone was giving away two free sheep she took them because it was so sad that they were full of tumors and unwanted.

She didn’t like. Do anything about the tumors.

But the sheep came and lived in our fields, wooly and much bigger than I’d imagined sheep to be. I asked mom if she’d have them sheared, because both wooly lads were starting to grow moss on the outer part of their wool.

No, she said, she’d just be sad looking at their bare tumors. The sheep remained unshorn. That was probably for the best since we knew fuck all about fibercraft.

I asked my mom if we would eat the sheep since they were dying anyway.

No, she said, she didn’t like mutton and didn’t like the idea that we might eat sheep cancer. The sheep remained unslaughtered.

So the first sheep died, after a year of languishing in the grassy fields, weighed down with unshorn wool. Maybe it was a nice year, we have no way of knowing how the sheep felt.

Now here into the narrative enters my father. A man allergic to literally every animal. A man married to a woman who was just constantly bringing animals home. Cats, dogs, rabbits, guinea pigs, horses, goats, cows, and finally sheep.

He yelled, he fumed, he raged and when his fury was spent the betumoréd sheep were still quietly chewing cud in the pasture and my mom won again.

Now my dad worked in IT. So one morning, my mom called him. A sheep has died, she said. My dad waited. We have to bury it, she informed him. My dad was dressed in his work clothes, a button up and slacks. So he called work and told them he’ll be late. Because he has to dig a sheep grave. His coworkers do not know what to say but agree that he can come in late.

So he went down to dig a sheep grave with my mom.

My mom was not there. I no longer remember what task she abandoned him for but the long and the short was that my father was alone with the dead sheep he didn’t want.

The property we lived on was about two acres. We had the lower pasture and the upper pasture. We also had a beautiful little stream that cut across the property. This beautiful little stream was home to frogs, salamanders, and all manner tiny little things and all those little creatures meant there were strict rules about where we could dig or develop.

The sheep had died in the lower pasture. But he could only be buried in the upper pasture, roughly 2 acres away. Which meant my dad needed to get the sheep from point A to point B alone. In his work clothes for some reason, he didn’t change.

So first my dad dug the sheep grave in a gentle drizzling rain, spattering his work pants with mud. Why didn’t he change. That part was pretty easy. Then he got a tarp and set about grabbing the dead betumoréd ram. Getting it on the tarp was also pretty easy, rolling it from left to right.

This sheep. Was about 300lbs under the wool. But with a few years of unshorn wool that was slowly filling with rain that sheep corpse was much too heavy for a single beleaguered man.

When he related this story to me I was incoherent with laughter. My dad at no point thought that this was a funny story, not his wet muddy work clothes, nor his wayward spouse, or the extremely dead farm animal.

I had tears rolling down my eyes and I asked, did you give up and wait for mom?

No.

My dad is not a quitter.

He, still in his work clothes, dragged that corpse a foot at a time, uphill, in the rain, to its final resting place, all by himself.

And then he went to work. In his wet muddy clothes.

[hearts-and-hands]

thinking about who my parents were and who they are now.

[berryispunk]

Meet The Characters

*drumroll* Now that Rain Down on Me has wrapped, it’s time for a new challenge—and a new pairing. Starting in May, I’ll be joining @thedrabblecollective’s drabble challenge (again). But instead of keeping it simple with a cohesive story, I went full chaos and built an entirely new AU to set these in.

Today, you’ll meet the female OC and the AU version of Frankie. Tomorrow—before the challenge officially kicks off—I’ll post the intro story for the Like A Song Stuck In My Head universe.

Drabbles start after that, and then we’ll keep their story going. I’m so excited. Join me?

Okay... let's start

Firefly (Elena Quinn, 27)

Elena grew up in a small town on the East Coast. Her mother worked two jobs, her father wasn’t around, and she was raised in the back corners of bookstores and the cramped quiet of the public library. She fell in love with words before she ever believed in people. She got a scholarship—barely—made it out and into a university. Studied literature like it could save her. It almost did. But when her mom got sick, everything changed. Bills, part-time jobs, a sudden drop in grades. She left school, just for a semester. The semester became a year. Then forever. She drifted for a while. Waitressing, bartending, couch surfing. Ended up in a city she never meant to stay in, thinking it’d be a stopover. It wasn’t. She found The Shack by accident—needed a job, and they needed someone who could throw a bottle at a drunk without flinching. She stayed. Against all odds, she found something like home in the noise and neon. She’s sharp-edged and world-weary, but loyal as hell. Still reads poetry on her breaks. Keeps a notebook under the bar, filled with half-finished stories and old quotes that remind her who she used to be. She has poetry tattoos, too—like “no rain, no flowers” inked gently along her collarbone. Her hair’s been dyed red for years, and despite the sticky Florida heat, her favorite weather is rain. Autumn is her season. Always has been. She’s a hopeless romantic who pretends not to be. Keeps everyone at arm’s length—everyone except Donna, the owner of The Shack, who stepped in like a second mom when her own passed. She’s a free spirit through and through, with a soft spot for strays—people, pets, all of them. That’s why she volunteers at the local shelter, no questions asked. She doesn’t tell many people her real name. Most just call her Firefly. Maybe because she glows a little, even when she doesn’t mean to.

Francisco Morales "Fish" (36) and Thorns of August

Band Members

Francisco "Fish" Morales – lead guitarist

Santiago “Pope” Garcia – vocals / rhythm guitar

Benny Miller – drums

Will “Ironhead” Miller – bass

They didn’t start as a band. They started as soldiers. Brothers. The kind who bled for each other—and for things they still don’t speak about. Frankie had always had music. His dad taught him guitar when he was a kid, and it followed him—into war, into addiction, into every broken piece of his life. After getting kicked out of the army for coke and smashing his last guitar in a rage, he thought it was over. Until the mission with Santi went south. The drugs stopped working. The music came back. Pope gave him a guitar, and they started jamming in his garage. No plan. Just grief, noise, and the hope something might stick. They named themselves Thorns of August, after Tom—their brother, their glue. His death haunted everything. So they played. The Shack was the first real stage. The crowd was small, but it felt like something. That’s where Frankie saw her—Firefly. All red hair and poetry tattoos, sharp tongue and soft eyes. She didn’t care about the music or the band or his damage. She cared about who he was when the noise stopped. And that terrified him. He was high most nights, drowning in the abundance of nothing fame offered. But he still showed up—for her, mostly. Until he didn’t. One fight, one broken night, and they were banned from The Shack. He lost her and never said what he meant to. Now their songs climb charts. They’re on movie soundtracks. But Frankie still mourns the girl behind the bar—and every song he writes is about her, even if no one knows.

main masterlist

tags: @speaktothehandpeasants @kakiki3 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @capuccinodoll @almostfoxglove @jolapeno @whirlwindrider29 @sheepdogchick3 @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @brittmb115 @greenwitchfromthewoods @diabaroxa @glycerinrivers @biapascal @copperhalfcent @beaniebailey @thepilatesprincess @axshadows @kirsteng42 @joelsgoodgirl @ellenmunn @matchalov3 @canadianfangirl-95 @picketniffler @hotforpedro @tuquoquebrute @noovaarq @warmdragonfly @theanothersherlockian @littleluc @76bookworm76 @inept-the-magnificent @confusedpuffin @wheatmaze @rav3n-pascal22 @picketniffler @lostinmyownmaze

[bigfeelingstiedtongue]

i remember being in 7th grade, getting home from class and seeing my mother bawling her eyes out in the bedroom. next thing i know she's screaming about how my dad cheated on her with the woman she's always been worried about since before he went abroad for work.

even now, a decade later, that image still haunts me

the weeks that followed were filled with more sorrow and rage from the family than i could handle.

i remember family from my mother's side; aunts, uncles, grandparents, nearly every single one - they spoke in hushed whispers and angry mutters behind closed doors, cursing my father for what he'd done when they thought my brothers and i weren't listening.

my mother spent the next few weeks working her way through multiple dating apps, video calling with random men and asking me "how would you feel about this man becoming your father?".

how was i supposed to respond to that? i was barely in highschool. the harshness of the world was still so foreign to me and you spring that question on me repeatedly. in what world is that ever okay?

was i supposed to say "yes, i'm completely fine with having a new dad" and smile like i wasn't confused why i needed a new one to begin with?

the years until now have been filled with passive aggression. backhanded comments made with forced smiles immediately replaced by grimaces and venomous words in private spaces. i knew something was wrong then, but i didn't understand the full weight of it until i was a little bit older.

they both tell me it's better off this way, that they have no intention of ever reconciling. it was never going to be an easy pill to swallow but somehow i was still caught off guard. it still hurt in a way i didn't know how to cope with other than isolation and numbness. if it really was better off this way, it never felt like it. if it was better off this way, why did it seem so unnecessarily painful for everyone involved?

i can only wonder what my brothers felt. they were barely in elementary then. sometimes i still drown in the guilt. i thought that i was too focused on myself to acknowledge that it affected them too. but i am slowly learning to accept that i was way too young to be carrying that baggage myself

my shoulders weren't meant to carry the weight of their sins. my heart was not supposed to be burdened by problems caused by adults who should have known better.

i started writing at the back of one of my school notebooks soon after. little poems and letters; words i could never utter out loud. i was never the bravest person, always preferring the safe and comfortable. i keep telling myself i'm waiting for the right time, but if i let myself acknowledge it, my patience reveals itself to be fear and hesitation.

because what difference would the truth make at this point? it's all been said and done and asking now is just digging up old wounds.

still though, one day, i want to be able to look my father in the eye ask to hear his side of the story. i've heard it from my mother's perspective, supported by commentary from my grandmother who, until now, still spits vitriol about my father whenever she gets the chance.

but i've never heard it from his side. maybe i'll hear that he never loved my mother and it was always supposed to be the other woman. maybe it was a moment of weakness and he fell victim to temptation. maybe it was some other convoluted plot that i know absolutely nothing about.

i don't know what i want to hear. i don't even know if the truth with make me feel even the slightest bit satisfied. whatever the case, it might just give me the closure i've been looking for.

i feel as though a small part of me will always resent my father for ruining what could have been. but maybe he wasn't happy with us. it all comes back to i don't fucking know what happened so i dont know how to feel. it's a jumbled mess of what if and could have beens that constantly taunt me.

i want to be rid of this constant feeling of being astray. but until i muster up the courage to ask for the truth, i'm just stuck i guess.

[throatcoat]

//my mother//

i used to feel a lot of pride when people told me i was like my mother. i thought she was so beautiful, like the old movie starlets in noir romantics that filled my adolescence. she would sing, “you are my sunshine” & make us her half-assed version of fettuccine alfredo (that i crave to this day, ragu/rotisserie/1 $noodles). she would mow the lawn & plant the most beautiful gardens where she would spend her afternoons. she would take us to the library. share a pint of ice cream & let us pick out a movie each saturday. she never said no to renting the same sonic video game over & over. she took did my makeup & took pictures just because. she would play with my hair while we sat on the couch during thunderstorms. my mom was strong, the strongest person i knew who had gone through so much, yet she still got through it. it never took her light. she was spunky, wore sundresses even in the winter, & cried over movies about dogs dying. she would tell me the story of how she met my father, how she fell in love with the cowboy. she was the outlaw, the bucking, kicking mare finally caroled and calmed down.

now, i just feel shame over the idea.

because, although i once loved the concept of looking like someone once so angelic, now all i see is something laying low in the darkest corner of the bedroom. eyes all red & glowing.

when i am told i am like my mother, i feel a rage boil over.

because now my mother is monster, and the idea of being anything like that means i am also a monster.

here is something that i still struggle with accepting:

the person i once loved & knew is dead & gone & replaced with something that sort of resembles the shell.

she cocooned & emerged a megalopyge opercularis.

the idea is the sensation of a chemical burn on my left arm, corrosion of my skin like the same aisles the pigs reside in.

looking like my mother, the way she smiles & sings, when i slide her old dresses on my mangled skin,

it has led to nothing but reprecussions for a therianthrope i did not choose to resemble the remnants of.

i lost everything.

do you not understand?

the things she took? the things she did? the things i can only speak about in a place where no one will ever piece together who it is on the other end of the telephone?

when i am told i am like my mother, all i hear is the phone call i received on halloween night, my 16th year alive on this earth. the one where she giggled like a little girl. when she said she did something bad & needed to know where i was. when i could hear him laughing beside her.

all i hear is the toilet lid cracking, what it sounds like to put porcelain against her skin as i try to push the door in.

all i hear is the late night phone calls & the moaning down the halls when i found them in my bedroom.

how scared i was when i could not find her with the threats of gunshots ringing down the hall. i looked & looked & called & called & she was too busy in the back of a car i still hate driving. she had no idea that her child could be dead from an angry boy with a gun. that her other was stuck in a hallway full of other little kids.

the laughter on the football field & she was sitting by my father. the boy was above them, looking down.

what the highway sounds like at 7 a.m. as i walked the 2 miles to my classroom.

how no one said a word when i handed in my textbooks & asked for my final transcripts.

how the teachers talked about me in the halls.

how the students laughed at me.

the note in my locker.

how he said he fucked me, too, i was a little slut, too.

the bruises on her body.

going to the gym is a trigger.

when she leaves, i think it will be the night i get the call that she was accidentally successful in whatever stunt she decided to pull out of misguided anger. the idea of picking up pieces of her body. pressing my dads shirt against her wrists. gluing his neck shut. the smell of alcoholics vomit never leaves the nose.

i lost my father for an entire spring, summer, fall, & a winter. multi-years & having to move across the state, it might as well have been a new country.

when i am told i am like my mother, all i hear is her denial.

all i hear is her excuses.

the way her hands felt against my face & how she can not even remember doing it in the first place.

picking up my clothing from the ground as she threw it.

the police radio transcripts where she used the same scripts on me that she did with my father.

my mother became cold.

empty.

mean.

hating.

spitting.

biting.

i am not like my mother.

i choose warmth.

i choose to make others feel safety.

when i see a teenager, i see a child, i see a baby that needs protecting.

i believe people.

i listen.

i refused to become my situation. i fight it continuously.

i am the only one who acknowledges the situation,

i wish others did, too,

because now i no longer ever feel real.

there is a story i am too afraid to tell the world, & i do not understand why i still want to protect her.

but please.

do not tell me that i am like my mother.

you have never met the monster that hides in the hallways.

i may be the scape goat.

but i am not my fucking mother.

[saturniiinae]

//my mother//

i used to feel a lot of pride when people told me i was like my mother. i thought she was so beautiful, like the old movie starlets in noir romantics that filled my adolescence. she would sing, "you are my sunshine" & make us her half-assed version of fettuccine alfredo (that i crave to this day, ragu/rotisserie/1 $noodles). she would mow the lawn & plant the most beautiful gardens where she would spend her afternoons. she would take us to the library. share a pint of ice cream & let us pick out a movie each saturday. she never said no to renting the same sonic video game over & over. she took did my makeup & took pictures just because. she would play with my hair while we sat on the couch during thunderstorms. my mom was strong, the strongest person i knew who had gone through so much, yet she still got through it. it never took her light. she was spunky, wore sundresses even in the winter, & cried over movies about dogs dying. she would tell me the story of how she met my father, how she fell in love with the cowboy. she was the outlaw, the bucking, kicking mare finally caroled and calmed down.

now, i just feel shame over the idea.

because, although i once loved the concept of looking like someone once so angelic, now all i see is something laying low in the darkest corner of the bedroom. eyes all red & glowing.

when i am told i am like my mother, i feel a rage boil over.

because now my mother is monster, and the idea of being anything like that means i am also a monster.

here is something that i still struggle with accepting:

the person i once loved & knew is dead & gone & replaced with something that sort of resembles the shell.

she cocooned & emerged a megalopyge opercularis.

the idea is the sensation of a chemical burn on my left arm, corrosion of my skin like the same aisles the pigs reside in.

looking like my mother, the way she smiles & sings, when i slide her old dresses on my mangled skin,

it has led to nothing but reprecussions for a therianthrope i did not choose to resemble the remnants of.

i lost everything.

do you not understand?

the things she took? the things she did? the things i can only speak about in a place where no one will ever piece together who it is on the other end of the telephone?

when i am told i am like my mother, all i hear is the phone call i received on halloween night, my 16th year alive on this earth. the one where she giggled like a little girl. when she said she did something bad & needed to know where i was. when i could hear him laughing beside her.

all i hear is the toilet lid cracking, what it sounds like to put porcelain against her skin as i try to push the door in.

all i hear is the late night phone calls & the moaning down the halls when i found them in my bedroom.

how scared i was when i could not find her with the threats of gunshots ringing down the hall. i looked & looked & called & called & she was too busy in the back of a car i still hate driving. she had no idea that her child could be dead from an angry boy with a gun. that her other was stuck in a hallway full of other little kids.

the laughter on the football field & she was sitting by my father. the boy was above them, looking down.

what the highway sounds like at 7 a.m. as i walked the 2 miles to my classroom.

how no one said a word when i handed in my textbooks & asked for my final transcripts.

how the teachers talked about me in the halls.

how the students laughed at me.

the note in my locker.

how he said he fucked me, too, i was a little slut, too.

the bruises on her body.

going to the gym is a trigger.

when she leaves, i think it will be the night i get the call that she was accidentally successful in whatever stunt she decided to pull out of misguided anger. the idea of picking up pieces of her body. pressing my dads shirt against her wrists. gluing his neck shut. the smell of alcoholics vomit never leaves the nose.

i lost my father for an entire spring, summer, fall, & a winter. multi-years & having to move across the state, it might as well have been a new country.

when i am told i am like my mother, all i hear is her denial.

all i hear is her excuses.

the way her hands felt against my face & how she can not even remember doing it in the first place.

picking up my clothing from the ground as she threw it.

the police radio transcripts where she used the same scripts on me that she did with my father.

my mother became cold.

empty.

mean.

hating.

spitting.

biting.

i am not like my mother.

i choose warmth.

i choose to make others feel safety.

when i see a teenager, i see a child, i see a baby that needs protecting.

i believe people.

i listen.

i refused to become my situation. i fight it continuously.

i am the only one who acknowledges the situation,

i wish others did, too,

because now i no longer ever feel real.

there is a story i am too afraid to tell the world, & i do not understand why i still want to protect her.

but please.

do not tell me that i am like my mother.

you have never met the monster that hides in the hallways.

i may be the scape goat.

but i am not my fucking mother.

[moltengoldveins]

I’m sorry this has gripped my psyche-

so Philza and Techno are some kinda deity-esque things, obv, somewhere between demigods and aspects of reality. Techno is the god of war and family, in the ‘I fight to protect my own,’ ‘the bonds of brotherhood and family are forged in blood’ kinda way. Phil is the god of dying, not the dead, i.e a classic psychopomp who serves our Lady Death. Tommy I think is some kind of recently-ascended version of the same thing, significantly younger than Phil and Techno (post DSMP godhood pog???) who got married to Tubbo as a joke and probably hasn’t quite settled into What he’s the god of yet, and Chayanne…. Chayanne is beginning to realize his family is Very Very Weird. (it starts with the Ender King, of course.)

.

Chayanne has known about Tio Techno for a while now. Dad never misses the chance to talk about him, and some of the stories he tells are so outlandish Chay wouldn’t believe them if it weren’t for how honest Dad always is. He never lies to them about stuff like that. (He never lies to us. He never yells. He never hits us. I don’t understand what’s happening-) Techno’s never visited the island, but Chay’s seen some of Techno’s old things hung in Dad’s closet, left there to free up inventory space. Why he had them when he came to the island in the first place, Chay doesn’t know, but he likes going through them sometimes, when Dad isn’t home. There’s an oddly bound red book filled with Chinese characters Chay can’t read, an absolutely massive sword that’s buzzing with magic, and a red cape. Sometimes, Chayanne buries his face in the train of the cape when he needs to feel brave. (He really really needs to feel brave right now.) When Dad leaves, everything in Chayanne’s gut screams that something is Wrong, Wrong, Wrong. Talulla is terrified, though she’s gone all bitter and short with everyone like she does when she’s trying her best not to show it. Chay takes one look at the blistering corruption on his Dad’s back, the rot creeping between his feathers, and knows he can’t leave Dad alone like this. Anything could happen. They could loose him. So, hands shaking as his Dad rows away, Chay puts his sister to bed and opens the closet. He pulls the cloak down from the hanger and glances skyward. (Hey Tio, hey Kristin. If you can hear this… I need help. I’m really scared.) Hauling the thick red fabric over his shoulders, Chay shudders as something vast and deep and red seems to settle around him. His mouth tastes like it’s full of pennies. His chest feels hot. And when he turns to grab his sword, it’s lighter than it should be, faster, the edge slicing through the air like a fish through water. -protect-love-rage-protect- sings the cape on his shoulders, and Chay is still very very very afraid. But he doesn’t feel alone anymore, and that’s the important bit.

(I’m sure there’s more of this AU where after Phil snaps out of it, Techno arrives son the island in a blaze of bloody glory yelling about his pog nephew who used some of his power to kick the old man’s butt and the butt of Phil’s evil ex (/j) and how if he doesn’t get to see the new little warrior Right Flipping Now he’s gonna raze the Federation to bedrock. (He’s gonna do that anyway, it’s just a matter of whether he gets a tea break first) Tommy tags along, excited to see Tubbo again and maybe only slightly put out that everyone thinks Chay is cooler than him (he and Talulla get on smashingly) but I can’t write that with the limited time I have, so you must be content with your imaginations.)

Throwing that out there since it's not my usual content but a SBI fanfic with Philza Technoblade Tommy and Chayanne would go so hard .

[escapism-isgoodinsmalldoses]

I’d plant the stars in the ground for you -> Moon Knight x Daughter!Reader

-‘If I could, I’d plant the stars in the ground for you, They’d grow as tall as your eyes so they’d shine for you only.’ ‘For then you’d see how the world is so big, but it was made for you. And you were made to be loved, loved by me.’ -

                                                           -by abbycates

PART THREE: Part one/Part two/Part three

Relationships: 

Father!Jake Lockley x daughter!reader/ Fatherfigure!Steven Grant x daughter!reader/ Fatherfigure!Marc Spector x daughter!reader Motherly Nut/ Slight Layla x Marc

TW: Depression and anxiety disorders, absent father, slight angst, Steven is a good dad, Marc tries, Jake is scared and hides but will come around. Konshu is intimidated by Nut hehe.

Nut, Nwt, (Ⲛⲉ), is the goddess of the sky, stars, cosmos, mothers, astronomy, all heavenly bodies and the universe in the ancient Egyptian religion. She was seen as a star-covered nude woman arching over the Earth. Nut was seen as a friend and protector of the dead, who appealed to her as a child appeals to its mother. (She is sometimes associated with the cow and represented with the horns of one)

A/N: the story takes place right after Konshu frees Steven and Marc.  She/Her reader pronouns but they aren’t used a lot, the term ‘daughter’ comes up tho. If you want to write/create anything that is inspired by this little story, feel free ! I just want a bit of credit hehe.

(POV: When you get screamed at by an ex you never knew you had) (they look so goofy omg) ___________________________________________ Your mother was a woman with quite a temper. She didn't fundamentally liked conflict, but sure knew how to express her disapproval. Or her wish to tear someone's head off. You've been sitting on the stairs in front of the Museum for about 15 minutes now. Your ice cream half melted in the little pot you held in your hand. You've been absent-mindedly eating the half melted cream, not paying attention to the people that walked past you. You could faintly hear your mother scream at Steven, or... well... You just didn't want to think about it right now. The sun was gone and your cold treat was now freezing your fingers. Grey clouds were looming in the sky and the wind had become stagnant. Everything was... fuzzy. It was weird how every event that occurred followed one another. It felt like a big joke, a big "fuck off" from life. Your vision was slightly blurred, you didn't really feel sad but tears were on the verge of pouring from your eyes.

You heard the steps of your mother becoming louder and louder, her voice was filled with disbelief and rage. « Oh you're father of the fucking year, are you ?! You stay the fuck away from (Y/N), from me ! »

He was running after her, trying to catch up to her as she clearly was trying to lose him in the crowd. You didn't look up at her when you saw her shoes enter your field of vision. « Come on, let’s get out of here (Y/N). »

You got up, not really paying attention to anything that was happening around you. Steven was heaving a bit when he caught up to your mother. You turned your back to them, knowing full well that they were about to raise their voices again. It was a bit ironic how you never experienced the arguments between your parents, but now that you did you were already tired of it.

« Listen, please. I have know idea who you are! »

Your mother had a bitter laugh.

« Oh that’s rich. »

He stuttered, clearly not knowing what to say to convince her anymore.

« (Y/N). » He said your name, trying to reason with you this time. You slowly looked up, his shirt was stained with your mother’s ice cream (which she probably threw at him when you ran away from the scene).

« I’m sorry kid but, » He took a deep breath and ran his hand along his forehead, he was sweating. « I’m… not your father. My name is Marc. »

It really was the worst excuse you had ever heard.

You didn’t exactly know what your expression was like but he immediately looked alarmed. You scoffed. You felt your lips tremble. « And Steven ? » « It’s complicated- » « Oh I’m sure, and it’s not that I don’t believe you, but I’d rather trust my mother. » « (Y/N), I don’t know what’s going on either. » You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your palms. « Jake, you leave her out of this- » « Jake?! » You looked at your mother, almost offended. « Steven, Marc, Jake? How many names do you fucking have ?! » « I’m NOT Jake ! » « Come on, sweetheart, let’s just go home, ignore him. »

« Leave…me alone. »

Your mom tried to protest but you just started to run down the stairs. You wanted to just GO AWAY. Disappear for a moment. They were following you, both trying to ask you to stay, your mom wanting you to come home and the... Other just wanting answers. And he was a lot faster than your mother. As you ran down the street, he grabbed your arm with a strength that scared you.

« (Y/N) ! »

You didn’t like him saying your name anymore. I want to leave, I want to leave, I want to leave, I WANT TO LEAVE.

°°°°°°°

You felt like you just woke up from a dream, but you were very aware that it wasn’t one. You were laid down on sand. You were on a beach.

You took deep breaths of the salted wind. The clouds were moving in waves, at a bizarre speed. The sea was calm, and the sand was white and made of thin grains. You stayed on the ground, realising how no one was around. You weren’t afraid of looking at the sky anymore. And then, you forgot why you were so upset.

…..

« Nut ? »

‘Yes, child ?’ 

You exhaled.

« I like this place. » You said as you took a small amount of sand in your palm, letting it slip away with the wind. You heard her laugh softly. ‘It is quite lovely. And I am glad to be able to see it with you.’ You started drawing small spirals into the sand. 'I am quite fond of Earth.'

« Why is he an avatar ? »

She stayed quiet for a few seconds.

‘Avatars are vessels for us Gods. You are a mean to interact with humanity where we cannot. If your father was chosen by Khonshu, then he must be trying to hide it from you.’ « … Why ? » 'Well...' She marked another pause. 'Khonshu proclaimed himself as a god of vengeance. His avatar must take care of that for him. Gods can grant their vessels superhuman abilities. He might be dangerous. At least in his opinion.' « And he’s not ? »

You heard her sigh.

‘He maybe is. But Khonshu was always proud and arrogant. He feels as if he owns the night. Where I swallow the sun each day to let him prevail. He cannot see past his own beak.’ You chuckled at the mention of his beak. A bird. A bird god. You stared at the calm waves as the sun started to peek through the agitated clouds. « You can give powers ? And… make us into superheroes or something? Ancient Egypt Avengers. » She giggled.

« Could you give ‘me’ powers…? »

‘I could. But you don’t have to serve me in any way. What kind of powers would you need ?’

You sat up slowly, looking around the desert beach.

« Something to get me back to London, for starters. » ‘Oh, right.’ _________________ This chapter is a bit short, but I hope it is still enjoyable! Everyone is confused, but (Y/N) starts to feel more comfortable with Nut :) __________________

[holy-guacamoly]

Dad!Levi Fluff

You softies seemed to enjoy Dad!Levi and I can't blame you for that. My man deserves the world and some damn peace. So here is another cute Dad!Levi kinda x Reader situation. You are not mentioned much. It's more like a moment between him and your child. Spoilers ahead since the fic will take place post-war! I warned you. Warnings: slightest mention of war, talking about scars

It was a Monday afternoon. Heavy clouds hid the vibrating blue of the sky, while a harsh wind whipped over the landscape. The temperatures dropped rapidly, although Levi didn't mind. Rain used to be something that reminded him of death and loss, but since his daughter came into this world those memories were replaced with fond ones. Isabel was born during a stormy night. He still remembered the commotion outside perfectly matching the raging storm inside of him. He also recalls you screaming in sync with the thunder. It was almost comedic. When your sweet baby finally arrived, it seemed like the storm was forgotten. All those excruciating images of war vanished when he looked at Isabel's face for the first time. As years passed it became a ritual for Levi and his daughter to spend rainy afternoons together. Filling his mind with more lovely things to associate with clouded skies. Today was no different. Since the ex-captains teashop, who he had been running for a while now, was closed on Mondays, he was able to spend time with his baby girl. Levi and Isabel were enjoying each other's company in the living room. The lit fireplace, painting the room in a cozy light, while it provided a harsh contrast to the greyscale of the world outside. The four-year-old was lying on the floor, drawing, while her father read a book on the sofa. Two cups of tea standing on the mahogany coffee table, one being tinier than the other. Levi bought a little teacup just for his daughter with elegant flower patterns engraved on the white porcelain. It seemed weird for outsiders, that they weren't exactly interacting, but this was a place of serenity for both of them. Isabel had been without a doubt a daddy's girl since day one. With extreme focus, the kid tried to portrait her family, consisting of you, Levi, Gabi, and Falco. She always aimed for perfection despite being this young. With a sheepish glare, the little artist eyed her father every minute to portrait him as precisely as she could. "Daddy?" she casually asked while fixating her gaze on the piece of paper again. Levi hummed in response but kept reading. "How come you have those things on your face and I don't?" Only the outspokenness of a child would allow such question. Her father peeled his eyes off his book and rose an eyebrow. "You mean my scars?" Isabel nodded. After all this time he still wasn't very fond of talking about his injuries, but how could he be mad at his angel? She didn't know any better, being blessed with sweet innocence. He was beyond thankful that his daughter didn't get the concept of war, since she never experienced one. Still, Levi felt a knot forming in his stomach while trying to keep a cool deminer. "Well, you know I was a soldier long before you were born, right?" The tiny girl nodded again, now looking up from her artwork. She propped her head on her hands and stared at her father, full of expectations. "Grown-Ups can be very childish sometimes. Especially those who fight in a war. They use their hands instead of words to settle an argument." Isabel's brows furrowed. She wasn't quite sure what this had to do with her question. Levi kept talking anyway. "Back then, I was also one of those people. I fought with a guy named Zeke. We were both so angry that neither of us was thinking straight." His voice became more erratic while talking. At this point, Isabel sat up completely hooked on the story. Her e/c eyes grew even bigger than they already were. "So Zeke and I wanted nothing more but to hurt one another. Unfortunately, we managed to do so quite a lot. After a lot of senseless quarrels, we both ended up in an explosion. This left me with some nasty injuries." Levi made a swift hand motion around his body marked by war, to underline his statement. "But luckily Hange stitched me up and now I am as good as new." Of course, Isabel never met Hange, since they passed away. But you made sure to tell your child all kinds of stories about them, honoring the 14th commander of the Survey Corps. So your daughter was aware of who Levi was talking about.

The raven-haired girl was quiet for a long time, comprehending what she had just been told. Levi was scared that he told her too much and traumatized his precious baby. After what seemed like an eternity to the poor man she simply stated, "I really don't know who Zeke is, but you guys should hug and say sorry." A whole-hearted laugh escaped the ex-captains lips, something only his daughter and girlfriend managed to bring out of him. Isabel let her head fall to the side, scrutinizing Levi. She didn't understand what was so funny to him. "You are right, maybe hugging would have solved some problems." Levi agreed, reaching for his cup of tea. While he did so his daughter stood up and clumsily crawled on the sofa next to him, still not taking her gaze off his face. "Daddy?" she asked again. If Levi had a dime for every time she used this word, he would be able to afford a private island by now. As he took a sip of the hot liquid he waved his hand to encourage her to talk. "I am glad you have scars because I think you look awesome this way. The other kids at kindergarten agree with me," she stated in the most serious tone like she hasn't just said something slightly weird. Levi smiled against the delicate porcelain of the cup. "Happy to hear that those brats like my appearance," he answered casually. Isabel furrowed her brows. "Mommy said you are not allowed to call anyone brats! That's not nice!" An amused scoff was heard from the adult. "Are you the language police or something? Your mother can't tell me shit." Levi never sugar-coated his words, not even around his child. "But last time she caught you using naughty words, you were afraid of her!" Isabel exclaimed, giggling softly. In response, Levi grabbed his daughter and started tickling her "Stop being such a smart-ass, Missy!" The stoic man also started to chuckle in a very untypical manner. If someone from his old squad would see him right now, they wouldn't believe their eyes. Isabel squirmed in his arms, now fully bursting into a fit of laughter. As you opened the front door of your lived-in home, you heard the commotion and smiled to yourself. Who would have thought that humanity's strongest soldier was a big softie after all?

Just ignore me, obsessing over my headcanon where Levi bought his daughter a tiny teacup. :') When did I become so soft?

[blackresin75]

The Heart of My Sea

TW: Choking, virgin reader, rough sex, loving sex, bondage, nipple play, oral (fem receiving), and overstimulation.

A/N: Hey so this is my first fic like this so please tell me what you think. My roommate did help me out a LOT @violinwizard thank you so much. This is for the Mythology and Folklore collab so please check out the others here. I have the masterlist reposted.

***********************************************************************

Dad always tried to control where you went. He wanted you to stay in his sight when you weren’t with the others luring sailors to their deaths. You’ve never wanted to kill but it was your only saving grace from your fathers grasp, but maybe that was what makes the Captain of the Midnight Rose so alluring.

The main crew looked to be about the same age as you and your friends, they also looked more content in their place on deck. Your feelings of jealousy grew more and more as each ship passed by and sank. Maybe that’s how you ended up in this position, stuck in a net blinded by jealousy and rage.

You feel the coarse net grind against your skin as you struggle to get free. The thrashing around causes the net to scrape up your arms and your tail. No matter how much you squirm, The coarse fibers don’t budge. You feel the water sink below you as you rise up. Panic starts to set in your chest as the light from the surface grows brighter.

“Shit, shit! No no no no fuck!” The ropes cut deep into your skin as your thrashing grows desperate, you feel the salt water flow around your body. You break the surface gasping frantically, thinking of all the stories of sirens before, kidnapped and left for dead. You've seen the aftermath, but you never dreamed it would happen to you.

Your breathing soothes but the panicky feeling in your chest doesn’t leave. You can hear gruff voices, but you can’t hear anything outside of the beating of your heart and the surge of the waves. The panic becomes so immense that by the time you’re set down on the mahogany deck you are already too far gone

When you wake up, all you can see is the shadow of a man on the far side of the deck. At first, his eyes are all you notice, deep and black as the ocean on a new moon night. There’s a scar running under the left one, giving him a dangerous and rugged appearance. He is dressed as many of the sailors you’ve taken to the deep, loose shirt with a deep cut, betraying a strip of an almost well defined chest. His tight pants leave nothing to the imagination, while his long coat makes you wish there was more to see. A scarf hangs around his neck, the end just dipping into the V of his shirt. “I wonder what he would look like in the ocean, all wet and mine for the taking.” The thought comes unbidden and you quickly scold yourself, a blush forming on your cheeks . Someone clears their throat, taking you out of your daydream and you look around at the rest of the crew. Their glares make you look away, and you quickly turn your eyes to the man in front of you. He walks towards you, taking off his trenchcoat and drapes it over your naked figure.

“I’m bringing her into my quarters, if you need anything.” .He stares daggers at the crew, while his hair flies up and eyes turn red, “Don’t.”

With that the roguishly handsome man picks you up and takes you to a cabin below deck. He lays you back on the mattress in the corner of the exquisite cabin, then he leans up against the desk in front of the neat bed. “So, you got a name?”

“Y/n,” you hesitate, “are you going to hurt me, sir?” His eyes go wide, his body stiffens a little, and he bites his lip. Bringing a strong callous hand up, he gently takes a piece of hair and tucks it behind your ear.

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” His whisper carries straight to your heart, the amount of care in his words sends a shiver through your spine. “Well, y/n, I’m Shota Aizawa, I own the Midnight Rose. I know you’re not human, so what the fuck are you exactly? We caught you in the sea, maybe a Kraken, or mermaid, or perhaps a siren.”

His voice gets lower and his face gets closer, you’ve sung songs to sailors that promise their dreams. A lot of sex, but there were a few of just pasta; those songs are your favorite. You can now see the allure of sex and love just by looking into this man’s tired eyes. Instead of answering him, you opt to stay quiet. “Not talking? That’s okay, kitten. I have ways to make you talk.”

Your face darkens even more at his words, why is calling you kitten? What are his ways to make you talk? The panic returns in full force, he sees the fear and panic on your face and he walks over to the bed and puts a loving arm around you. You freeze, and he decides to rub your back, “shhh, kitty, it's okay. I’ll protect you now. I want to know what you’ve been through.”

His gentle reassurance surprises you, it's not everyday that you see someone so handsome and gentle. Someone who doesn’t want to treat you like a toy, but maybe that’s what made you want him to treat you like a toy. Just to see if he still would want you after or throw you back to the sea violated.

“You didn't answer my question, are you going to hurt me, sir?” You lean in closer to Shota. The tension starts to thicken, with just five words.

“Do you want me too?” Shota looks at you differently, he wasn’t malicious or terrifying. He pulls you closer, looking into your eyes, his breath taking up your air. The different songs flew through your head but only one thing felt right.

“I want you.” You lean forward and kiss him with your entire soul. You’ve never felt this way before, and from what Aizawa was reciprocating, he feels it too. The kiss deepens and a heat starts to form in your pussy and gut. He groans into your mouth and he pulls you on top of him. Feeling his hard cock against your pussy sends a shock that jolts through your bones. He grabbed your arms and started kissing where the net cut into your skin.

“I’m sorry y/n, I did this to you. I’m so sorry.” He kisses you everywhere he can touch, soft, loving kisses. When he reaches your neck, it sends shivers down your back, and a moan bubbles up in return. The shivers soon travel to your stomach, where his hands are caressing in full circles, slowly heading upwards. You can feel the rough texture of the coat on your nipples driving the sensitivity to new heights. Suddenly he slips the coat from your shoulders, and you hear it hit the ground at the same time his hand finally hits the swell of your breast.

His lips leave your neck, a whimper escaping your throat at the loss, which is immediately followed by his moan as his mouth closes on the peak of your breast. You feel his tongue circle your nipple, caressing it slowly, and you are awash with heat, striking to a forbidden place in your core. His tongue is soft, and wet, giving you a pleasure never felt before. He grabs your backside possessively, pulling you impossibly closer, you moan, grasping his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself afloat in the rushing tide that is him.

In your state, you barely manage to gasp out a “Don’t stop”, and you clutch harder as he slowly starts to suck on the breast he is tethered to, his tongue still making tortuous movement. One hand lightly caressing your other breast, his other starts to slowly head downwards, mapping your skin, which has started to gather sweat. He gently nudges your thighs apart and begins to descend further into uncharted territory. Before he can reach his destination, he pulls back and meets your eyes.

“Is this ok?” He asks. Frustration hits you at the loss of his ministrations, and you grab him by the scarf, pulling him back to you, “Please, keep going”. You feel his smirk before he begins, this time on the other breast. His hand continues in your depths, to circle around a single point that opens a floodgate. You grasp him tighter, your hand going into his hair in pure joy, as his fingers continue at the same pace, tracing a whole new alphabet on your center.

You want more pressure, you begin to move with him, trying to encourage him to go faster. “Kitten” he admonishes, his voice low, “Do you need more?” You can only moan in response. His hand is suddenly grasping the back of your neck, pulling you away from him, the breath leaves your throat, and you feel as if you're floating, pleasure filling the space of total awareness.

He laughs, “Cat got your tongue?” You want him, want more, you reach out blindly, catching his shirt in the process. You want it gone, you tug, and it floats down beside you. You see his smirk turn sinister.

“You shouldn’t have done that. Do you know what happens when the Kitten gets the cream before she’s meant to?” He slowly takes the scarf off his neck, and before you can comprehend that you can see the sweat coating his neck, he has lowered you to the bed, the scarf wrapping around your wrists, tying you to the bedpost. Panic rises inside you, before it bubbles over, he slowly kisses you, passionately bringing the softer feelings from earlier back into the game. It calms you, enough to notice both his hands have pressed your thighs back to their open stance, and he is moving down your body, his chest heaving. You feel his breath on your lower stomach, his tongue taking just enough time to dip into your belly button before working further down.

The heat is back, flooding your senses as you feel his breath on your thighs where his hand is, you feel his tongue, followed by his teeth, lightly nipping, moving towards the place you want him most. You want to tug him close, but you are restrained from above, you consider thrusting closer, before he is there. You feel his breath on the most intimate part of your body, sending shivers to your very soul, and ripping the part of you wanting to escape away. He sits there making you wait, before you finally feel his tongue on that same spot from earlier.

It is somehow both cold and hot at the same time, and impossibly wet, adding to the sensual feelings bubbling up from inside. The soft tongue is a stark contrast to the nails on both your thighs. With each swipe of his tongue you are brought to new heights. Just left to moan and writhe on the bed, with no hard body to soothe the shivers. Finally his lips close over the nerves, and your soul is drawn from you and into him, you can’t stop moaning, arching off the bed, your feet finding solace along his muscular back. Your thighs crushing the head between them. He groans out, possessively grasping your thighs to pull you closer to the torture that is his mouth. You feel something else on your folds, one of his fingers, gently prying the opening to your depths, which you have just realized is dripping liquid.

His finger sinks deep just as his tongue passes over the top of the nub, and you almost scream, your breath rising, your vision gaining spots. His finger is joined by another as they twist and scoop, scraping against a part of you that sends pure heat to your heart, and your heart to the heavens above. He keeps striking the place inside as his lips pull your very being into him. Once you take a breath, twice, you rise from the bed. Thrice, you are screaming. And then you are falling grasping at the headboard above. You have spots dancing in your eyes and a fire in your belly. As a tsunami of pleasure ripples through you, starting and ending with the man who is still milking you into him.

“Shota, p-p-please” You moan, as you ride out your intense first orgasm. The pleasure comes in waves as Shota cleans you the mess you made with his insatiable tongue. As you come down from your high, he comes up by you and he kisses you with hunger. He slowly pulls away from you, bringing both hands up to cup your beautiful face. One hand gently caresses your cheek and soothes your heated face. He let his thumb wander to your plump lips and let it drag down slowly to see your bottom teeth. With your mouth wide open, he brings his hand, still wet with your juices, to your open mouth.

“Clean, Kitten.” You stick your tongue out a little and lick a small amount of your essence off of him. Shota groans as you lick his fingers coated in your slick. You love the feeling of falling off the edge for him, the world melts as he takes his fingers away and kisses you with full force. He puts the fingers back into your sweet, sticky spot, pumping in and out, until you could feel the heat return. You let out a small whine, “‘s too much, sir.”

He takes his fingers out and you whine again, not wanting his fingers to leave your heat. He lets out a small chuckle, “Do you want me or not? I thought you wanted me, we’re not even close to being finished.”

You let out another whine as he places his fingers back in your pussy. This time he starts with two fingers and quickly slips in a third, stretching you out. He kept pumping you full, hitting the spongy part in you multiple times. He takes out his fingers, hitting your swollen clit on the way out. You feel so close to the edge again. Not wanting the pleasure to stop, you try to bring your hand down to give some much needed friction to your neglected area. The headboard clicks against the wall of the cabin, reminding you of the scarf that ties you up. You glance down and see Aizawa pumping his full, slightly curved, cock, dripping with precum. The engorged tip is a flushed pink, you watch as he mixes your essence with his pre. Satisfied with the prep work, he comes up and grabs your hips, coaxing your legs to wrap around him. He lines up his length with your pussy, and looks at your panicked face.

“Kitten? Are you okay with this? Have you done this before?” His questioning is endearing, you’ve haven’t had sex before, but you know a lot about it. With all of his ministrations on your body, you don’t want it to stop.

“No, but I don’t want you to stop.” You share a breath with Shota, both of you not wanting to break the silence. He looks at you lovingly and whispers a kiss over your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll try to be gentle, Kitten.” His kissing gives you reassurance. He lines his swollen cock to your folds and slowly lets himself into you. The pressure is painful at first and the pain slowly changes to pleasure. You look down to where you are joined and see that only his tip is in. How is that possible? Is he even going to fit? You feel so full already but there is still more? “Shhh, it’s okay Kitten,” he wipes away a stray tear from the pain, “You’re so beautiful.”

He slowly puts more of his large cock in you, pain makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut. He caresses your hair, petting you and giving you praise as you take his entire length. As he bottoms out in you, you let out a wail that would put the banshees to shame. You both wait for your tight cunt to adjust to his size. Your chest heaving as you tap on Shota’s shoulder signaling him to start moving.

“I need actual words, Kitten.” You gather your breath and whisper a small yes in his ear. With that small yes, Aizawa kisses you temple and starts to move in your heat. You feel his cock move at an antagonizing pace, and you need more.

“More, sir-” Aizawa growls in your ear, it is already so difficult for him not to lose control and he doesn’t want to hurt you. When you keep calling him sir, the difficulty increases. He picks up speed slowly, moans coming freely from your throat and tears from your eyes. Every now and then he kisses the tears from your eyes and sings your praises.

“My good kitten, doing exactly what I need.” He starts to go faster and harder. Words and moans mixing in your mouth bubbling up to the surface, coming out as much of a mess as your cunt. You feel a coil of heat rise in your stomach as the tip of his cock pounds relentlessly into your cervix. Something was different about this edge, no longer was it the tsunami of pleasure like you knew it. It’s like being sucked into a whirlpool that doesn’t end, the feeling growing larger and larger until you let go.

You hear Shota shouting, “Fuck, I’m cumming, Kitten,” He kisses your lips, as you fall back into the whirlpool of pleasure. You feel thick ropes of cum coat your fluttering walls, you let the whirlpool take you completely. A clear liquid coats both you and Shota as you let out another wail. He looks down at the mess and back to your face. You both let out a little laugh, and he pulls down the covers of his bed. He grabs a blanket from one of the wardrobes and drapes it over you. He clambers into the bed and pulls you close.

“You’re so beautiful. I think I’m falling for you.” He kisses you. You’ve never been the one to believe in love at first sight, but with him, how else could you explain it? You have totally fallen for him since you landed on his deck.

“Shota, I think I love you.” You whisper.

“I think I love you, too.” He kisses your nose lovingly.

“Even if I’m a siren?” He looks at you and brings you into a hug.

“You’re the Heart of my Sea, I will always love you, y/n.”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 314: ...Or You Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain

Previously on BnHA: Some random assholes were all “let’s throw exploding spears at All Might and see if it activates his Conqueror’s Haki” and SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS, IT DID!! Elsewhere, Lady Nagant confusingly tried to capture Deku alive by shooting him in the stomach, but to be fair I guess that’s what happens when you send an assassin to do a bounty hunter’s job, so yeah. Deku was all “ouch”, and then because this is a shounen he basically just straight up forgot about it, and did a big fancy Smokescreen thing, and then activated his mildly incomprehensible new ki-blasting quirk which he got from the Third. En and the Third were all “hey Deku maybe let’s not just impulsively activate all this shit in the heat of battle when you don’t know how to use it yet and you’re already injured,” and Deku was all “thanks for the quirks guys but I’ll take it from here” and snuck up on Nagant and grabbed her arm and so now what’s going to happen I wonder.

Today on BnHA: Nagant is all “[shoots Deku again]” because of course she is lol. Deku is all “tell me about AFO!” and Nagant is all “why would I tell you anything?” and then proceeds to tell him her entire life story which is FILLED WITH SO MUCH MURDER, YOU GUYS. Holy shit. So basically she was an assassin for the HPSC, which we already knew, but somehow it’s one thing to know that, and another to actually see her running around capping dudes in the forehead and being covered in more blood than the elevator from The Shining. Anyway, so you’ll never believe it, but all that murder had a negative impact on her psychologically, and eventually led her to question everything she believed about hero society, and so she killed her creepy boss and was promptly sent to Tartarus. This extremely fun chapter ends with Overhaul showing up all “HI, HELLO, I’M STILL HERE”, because for some reason he is still here. Why are you still here, Overhaul.

“the beautiful Lady Nagant” oh you know your audience don’t you Horikoshi

well all right then! so I’m guessing this means that she is not, in fact, going to roll over and die just because Deku’s out here all “GOT YA!” like they’re playing a game or tag or something. ffff may the manga gods have mercy on our young suicidal protagonist

lmao so Deku is all “GOD I’M SO SMART, WHAT A GOOD STRATEGY I HAD, CAPITOL JOB THERE OL’ CHAP, CAPITOL” and lol, okay. I mean, it was a good plan though. but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop here

“I’ll make you give me information on All for One” well there you go, lol. Deku Angst arc still fully engaged. still no light in his eyes either of course. just a lil chaotic ball of sleep deprivation and rage

lol, fucking THANK YOU though

oh my god what the hell did she do to him lol

did she shoot him with her elbow??? fucking look at this?? THIS IS WHY WE LISTEN TO HAWKS oh my god Deku are you dead

WHAT’S HAPPENING, IS THIS GOOD OR BAD, WHO’S WINNING

things that I wish I could tell from this panel which I unfortunately cannot tell

did she stab him or shoot him?? can you imagine if it was the former lol. why does Horikoshi keep stabbing all my kids. look Kacchan now the two of you can match

did she actually hit him or did he get away??

or did she hit him and then he jumped away?? just, what

well anyway, so now Deku is asking her why she sided with AFO, but he seems a lot more pissed off than when he was interrogating Muscular, though. probably because she shot him three times. fair enough

oh my god

does Lady have a blog here on tumblr dot com?? -- does Horikoshi have a blog here on tumblr motherfucking dot com?? why do I suddenly feel like this man is out here sneakily reading up on all our discourse

oh my god Deku it’s almost like getting up close and personal with someone who can shoot custom bullets from any distance and any position with deadly accuracy was a terrible fucking idea

IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD WARNED YOU NOT TO ENGAGE WITH HER AT ALL COSTS. IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD HAD THE FORESIGHT TO DO THAT sob. can you imagine how much shorter this series would be if characters actually listened to Hawks. Hawks, and Momo. why do we even let anyone else run the show ever

OH MY GOD

DEKU, RUN

OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

this looks a lot like what happens to me whenever I play One’s Justice. those fucking combo attacks that you can’t fucking escape from and so your character just has to stand there getting their ass whalloped repeatedly while you wonder why you paid $40 for this

but anyways though. so Lady who did you kill?? I bet they deserved it, don’t worry I forgive you

(ETA: ANYWAY SO FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT LADY NAGANT DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. aside from murdering all those innocent people and shit. but there were CIRCUMSTANCES, and THEY WERE EXTENUATING, OKAY.)

-- holy shit

looks like the HPSC arc is back on the menu boys

so are we about to learn that the HPSC was going full Hydra on people’s asses? secretly dispatching anyone they deemed a threat to society?? “taken care of” as in you fucking shot them??

so then was the “hero” she killed actually one of the guys who was giving or carrying out these orders?? holy shit Lady, up until now I’ve mainly just been stanning you for your flawless eyebrow game and metal af quirk, but this shit could actually get real very quickly, and I am prepared to genuinely and sincerely love the shit out of you depending on what we learn next about your backstory

oh my god?!?

so wait, hold up. am I reading this right?? basically the HPSC started murdering vigilantes because they were worried they were gaining too much of the public’s favor?? holy fucking shit???

oh my GOD oh my god

“it’s been a while since I scarred you all with the dead dog and the graphic slaughter of an entire innocent family, huh,” Horikoshi says thoughtfully. “anyway so what do you all think of my new creation, the Spaghetti Bullet.” well, Horikoshi, so you know that squished-up face that Kermit the Frog makes sometimes? yeah. that’s what I think, if you must know lol

holy hell the juxtaposition

I’m actually kind of surprised to learn she had a lot of fans? what with her M.O., I was expecting her to have been an underground hero like Aizawa, but apparently not? then again I still have absolutely no idea how any of that works. I really need to read Vigilantes already

oh snap

nothing like a sweet dose of assassin trauma to finally round out our BnHA Trauma Bingo!! well done guys, we finally collected all of the traumas! hooray!

noooo Ladyyyyyyy

holy shit what a fucking chapter. like, this man promised us an assassin, and went and fucking delivered. I was not expecting it to be this dark, lol, but holy shit I am here for it

you know, at some point you have to start questioning the logistics of this, though

I mean, how do I put this... her quirk isn’t exactly subtle. that murder scene from a few pages back looked like the first season of Dexter for fuck’s sake, that’s not exactly “disappearing” people now is it?? and I mean, her bullets are literally made from her own fucking hair; it seems like it would be impossible not to leave any evidence behind. did no one start to wonder who the fuck was going around murdering all these people? or did the people who asked too many questions wind up getting conveniently “disappeared” themselves??

and hey, speaking of asking too many questions

holy shit is he blackmailing her??!? or no, wait -- what the hell is he reaching for in his pocket boy you better not

(ETA: what exactly was this man expecting fdslkjd. “uh oh my unstoppable hair trigger assassin who is literally always armed is asking questions, better announce that I am going to shoot her and then reach into my pocket veeeeeery slowly while she stands there all of two feet away.” how did this guy ever function as the head of a shadow government with these decision-making skills, I’m genuinely baffled.)

OH MY GOD LADY YES

this. right here. is why “run the fuck away” was damn good solid fucking advice. oh shit. but my god did this dude have it coming

so wait lol has she just been narrating all of this out loud to Deku this entire time

okay but can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the fact that they’re having this deep conversation about the dark secrets of hero society right in the middle of their intense mid-air sniper free-for-all lol

holy shit you guys, Nagant’s the one that should have made the tell-all video. I mean, no offense to you, Dabi, I’m sure you worked very hard on your video and did a ton of crunches every day so that you would look good with your shirt off while you told the world all about how your dad was a jerk. but seriously...

this is already like 100x more convincing than what he put out. also, gasp, is it another flashback

yes it is oh my gosh

so the HPSC Chairladyperson whom ReDestro killed used to be this guy’s direct subordinate, huh? I wonder if she kept the whole assassin program going after she took over. can’t say I was feeling any particular kind of grieving way about her death before, but certainly not now lol

but unfortunately Nagant has finally lost me at the same place where all of the villains inevitably do, which is to say when they somehow make the dubious mental leap from “society sucks and is bad” to “let’s just be openly fucking evil lol, worth a shot.” because when heroes murder innocent people and cover it up, that’s obviously bad (and I mean, it absolutely fucking is lol, don’t get me wrong); but when villains murder innocent people straight up out in the open without giving a fuck, they’re righteous revolutionaries? just -- is there really no non-murdery middle ground here?? I guess that’s what Deku and co. are for, hopefully

anyways oh shit Deku seems to have spotted something?? and he’s doing something weird with Blackwhip what

oh, he spotted her, I guess

lmaooooo

new favorite Deku panel right here. a masterpiece

oh my god you guys our little boy is starting to grow up before our eyes

you love to see it. and you can tell with those elipses that he’s gearing up to say something really cool and determined and badass like the shounen protag he is, yes please, Deku ilu so much please do your thing

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

IS THAT A TEENY TINY LIL EYE SPARKLE THERE OMG. still not anywhere close to his usual standard, but that’s some clear resolve there in his eyes there at long last! it always shines the most clearly when he’s being true to himself and his ideals, so I love that it finally shows up again here, when he’s reaffirming his resolve to help others no matter what

uh oh so what’s Lady going to do now

is it time for a trump card?? kinda sounding like it’s time for a trump card

???

I lied btw, this is my new favorite Deku panel. but anyways what is she up to now lol

ohhhhhh, lol

why does she seem shocked, lol. here I thought this was part of her plan, but apparently she forgot all about ol’ “Look Ma, No Hands” back up there

and so I guess that’s it for this week! so we’ve learned basically everything now about Lady and her quirk and her history with the HPSC and why she agreed to work for AFO. pretty much the only question that still remains is why the hell she decided to drag this asshole along for the ride! because I still cannot figure that out dsklkjlkf

(ETA: actually now I’m kind of wondering if they maybe have some past connection we don’t know about yet. when exactly was Nagant sent to Tartarus? is it possible she was ordered to track down and kill Overhaul at some point before that, but never got around to it? or something else along those lines? idk but now I’m curious.)

anyways Deku, I know that your empathy has no bounds and that you’re on a “saving villains” kick right now, and good on you... but also, if you decide to just like, skip all of that shit just this once, absolutely no one will hold it against you, I’m just saying. just, all I’m asking here is maybe let’s think twice before we start trying to reform guys who imprison and torture little girls for profit. I think maybe that’s a good place to draw the line. next week is going to be a very interesting chapter lol

[hxnmantii]

Class 1-A and their car habits

tw: crack/fluff, cursing

People: Bakugo, Shoto, Izuku, Sero, Kiri, iida, Mina x mostly gn!reader (Mina is the only one that’s implied female!reader)

Ratings: PG

A/n: yuuhh get into💋 I personally would like to ride with Shoto. I just wanna hold his hand👉🏾👈🏾 but not on no simp shit. Originally, this was going to be just boys but who would I be if my gay self didn’t add the queen herself? Anyways, Who would you like to ride with?

Bakugo~

Bakugo does that sexy ass thing where he drives with one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh and when you don’t pay him enough attention he’ll lightly squeeze your thigh. This man does NOT share the aux....his stingy ass. He says he doesn’t wanna listen “to your trash music” but will play bxmb threat and NBA Youngboy at full capacity with the windows down. If you beg enough maybe he’ll play 1 Nicki song. But he will throw a fit and act like he doesn’t like Nicki even though he knows all of the lyrics. Altough he’s really uptight about his car, he enjoys driving and picking up the Bakusquad in it because he likes to feel useful and needed. No doubt about it, this man has road rage. He’s screaming outside the window and in the car about how someone cut him off and when someone screams back him, he’s like “Pull over right now cuz those sound like fighting words to me.” Now y’all in the back of a cop car and 30 minutes late to your dinner date. You are not, I repeat, you are NOT allowed to even think about eating in his car unless he’s got that plastic wrapping on his car. He treats his car so good (at some point you think he likes the care better than you) her name is Bethany. I-

Shoto~

Shoto has one hand on the wheel and one hand in your hand, stroking your hand from time to time and kissing the back of it. He had a sleek gray sliver car with a sunroom (he never actually uses) that goes fast and he likes going real fast because what they gon do, give him a ticket??? When his dad the number one hero??? Try again. He’s also the type to flick off the cops as he driving by because ACAB. He’s always wearing a gold Rolex and you got your nails done so when you hold his, the acrylics compliment his hand and watch.(like the pictures from Pinterest) You guys ride in comfortable silence. It’s so calming riding with him because although you’re slightly anxious with how fast he’s going, you’re at somewhat ease because he’s doing it so smoothly and you trust him. His windows are tinted because once again he’s the son of a pro hero and people are nosy, neither you or him like that. Although you don’t really need the assistance with Shoto being a living AC and heater in one, his seats have buttons for each seat and you can warm your bum. His car had the clean car smell...it just smells really clean. He’s got a bunch of condiments and napkins in his glove department. He doesn’t know where they came from. His whole vibe in his car is rich and elegant. He gets his car professional wash every Tuesday and you are required to come.

Kirishima

Kiri’s got a big ass red GMC truck and he gave the truck these monster wheels so it’s a force to be reckoned with. Her name is Sophie and like Bakugo, he loves her dearly but makes it clear to you that he’s love you more than her. He does the sexy ass thing where he’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand tightly holding on to your head rest so his arms flexing and he’s backing up with a concentrated look. that is so hot to me. He’s got a sticker on the back that says “honk if you’re manly” . He definitely would let you take the aux because you guys made a playlist of songs you chose together. He would be the type to start dancing when a good song came on, almost hitting someone in the process because he took both hands off the steering wheel out of excitement. He’s got road rage but not enough to actually start shouting or flicking someone off. In the trunk of Kirishima’s car, he’s got at least 5 different protein bottles as well a case of water and some jump rope. He says “You never know when I’ll need it to work out” but he has his personal gym?? Anyways, he has a specific section in his closet for red button ups because he likes to match Sophie when he drives her😭 I hate to say it but Kiri looks like a hill billy especially since he’s got those shoulder cut out button ups. He’s cute with it and he’s happy so you somewhat tolerate it

Midoriya

Izuku has more of a family car like a soccer mom car or a dark green Ford explore because he likes to pick everybody up to hang out and he needs space since he’s got a lot of them. Not to mention, he also likes to cruise and enjoy his time with you no matter where y’all go because we all know this man is a simppp. At every stop light, he’s gently grabbing your face and either kissing you on your cheek or forehead. He tried giving you a kiss on the lips once but he got so caught on the feeling that he ended up holding up the line and everybody was honking and made at him. He was so embarrassed that he now waits til you guys get to your destination to do all that extraness. Being the big fan he is, naturally he has some All might themed seatbelts and has all might stickers all over his steering wheel. He also has little all Might figurine on his dashboard that he prays to get him out of car trouble. Genuinely think it’s works too. Izuku in his trunk has a bunch of workout gear and gaze cuz he’s sexy like that. He does not have road rage at all....maybe a little. He might flick someone off but that’s as far as it goes. He definitely gives you the aux because he loves watching how lively you get it. (Y/n) “Do you know your Megan baby?”🥰 (ZuZu) “Y-yes?”

Iida

Now hear me out...Iida has a motorcycle. He’s got a need for speed that cars can’t really fufill because you can’t weave through other cars like a motorcycle can. His motorcycle has the highest tech on it naturally. It’s all black but has lights underneath it so he can change it by phone and ofc it’s always blue. You guys also have matching helmets that are Bluetooth so you’re able to talk to one another without having to yell very much. When you guise stop, he rubbing your arms to make sure that you’re okay and/if you need to pull over. Now when he’s not riding the motorcycle he’s got a Tesla. He preaches about the law and following the rules but when he get in the car, that’s a different story. With him you better either hold on tight to him or you better get double seat belt buckles for extra protection because he’s about to try and race the flash. (And you thought Shoto was bad) You get out thanking the universe for letting you touch ground again. Iida got the type of car that if you even breathe incorrectly around it, it’s going off and waking up the whole damn neighborhood. When iida first got his car, he read everything up on it so he would be fully able to use the car to its full potiential meaning that he’s got Siri set up, he can lock the door from his car, and watch the cameras on his house through the screen of his car. The Bluetooth is automatically connected to his phone so no you will not be getting the aux but you can play some tunes form his phone. He’ll even make you a playlist on Apple Music with his rich self.

Sero

Sero’s got a red convertible with tan seats and the weather allows it, his top is always down. His car always smells so good because he uses the wild cherry air freshener in his car. He blasts bad bunny and daddy Yankee as y’all are cruising slightly over the speed light. He also likes blasting Ski Mask. He’s the type to sing you the words while gently holding your face and singing to you with a lovey dovey smile on his face. He’s very respectful and turns down his music when entering neighborhoods because he doesn’t wanna mess with the vibes. You two have matching glasses that says queen/ king on yours and king on his. He definitely has some throw dice hanging from his mirror along with a picture of you and him taped to his dashboard cuz he’s also a simp. He’s always has a packet of Extra gum in his middle console along with warm water bottles. If police pulls him over, he definitely the type to start flirting with him so the officer just to make him uncomfortable enough to let him off with a warning. For a fact, he has the Puerto Rican flag on the antenna of his car. He has Led lights and likes them to be colorful rather than on one color. Sero definitely jogs around the front to open the door for you because he’s a jester and a gentleman in one. His part of his car is that the top can go down solely for the fact that the sun always highlights your skins so well.

Mina

Do I even need to say anything about the Pink queen herself?? She has a cute pink steering wheel case with matching pink seats and ofc she has a bedazzled stick shift. She has a Jeep. She the type of person to has matching glasses with her interior and when you get in the car, she’s putting her music on shuffle: a dangerous move because you go from Brent Faiyaz to Jhene Aiki to fucking Cardi B, Flo Mili, and etc. When you unbuckle your seat to start twerking in the seat, she’s automatically going to start hyping you up. She’s got one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on your ass smacking it as you fuck it up in the passenger seat. Y’all are literally swerving from side to side and let’s be honest here, Mina is not that good of a driver so you have almost gotten in an accident multiple times. She’s the type to pull over to take cute selfies or videos with you and post them all at once captioning it with “Late nights w/bae”. Underneath seat she an emergency packet filled with makeup, clothes, hair and first aid kit supplies. Although she’s not the best driver, she takes the rules really serious because she would hate to have an accident with you in the car. Like Sero, She has led lights in her car but they only flash pink. Mina is the queen of putting falsies on so she would mostly definitely put yours on (without tweezers) once you park as well as do your edges if you ask. She just has that talent. *chefs kiss* amazing

Reblogs are appreciated!

A/n: I’m lyin I definitely would be riding with Bakugo because I have major passenger rod rage lol and you definitely don’t wanna get your ass beat TWICE

[abluescarfonwaston]

Anyway this is @sapphire-wine fault so blame her.

Detective conan ace attorney au where Edgeworth gets reverted to the body of a child after he followed after two men dressed in black he suspected were a part of a smuggling ring. Gumshoe lost him and when Edgeworth woke up he was like 5 again.

Gumshoe finds him in a pile of his old clothes that he’s MANY sizes too small for now. But Gumshoe can’t afford to take care of him! And he Definitely cant go home. He can’t even reach the door handle! Luckily Mia, Wright and Maya are all at this theme park celebrating Wright’s first case win! 

Gumshoe: Hey can you hold onto this for me for a second?

Wright: Huh? Sure?

Gumshoe: *Hands him tiny Edgeworth but in glasses and baby*

Wright: ... *Miles sweating bullets as Phoenix studies him* YOU’RE SO CUTE!

Edgeworth, master of being where the murders are gets Wright and Mia a Lot of work. Edgeworth is trying so hard to track down this smuggling ring and get his body back. Wright laments to... Tails (open to a better/worse fake name for Miles) that the man he studied law to met has suddenly disappeared. Phoenix and Tails share Wright’s bed the first few nights before they buy a second futon. Miles looks at him so sadly. Then Wright starts snoring and he looks less fond.

Miles regularly wakes Phoenix up in the middle of the night with nightmares. Phoenix cuddles him back to bed with all the Dad he will one day master. Talks to Mia about getting Tails into therapy because clearly that kid has seen some shit and is not handling it well.

Miles has to sit through first grade. It is a nightmare of children he does not know how to interact with (just like the first time!) and mind numbing boredom. (Just like last time!) Phoenix gets Many requests from the teachers to ‘just let the kids write his own reports please.’ Phoenix has no idea what they’re talking about.

He’s in a class with uhh Kay, Sebastian, Athena and Cody. They are very impressed by the fact he knows so much about the Steel Samurai and they make him watch the Jammin’ ninja as well. They solve kiddy cases as the Detective Kids. Sometimes these turn into murders/mafia/kidnappings. It’s Fine.

Franziska flies in to see her Father again. (Read: To look for her missing brother that she’s terrified her Father killed.) She is absolutely Brutal in court and Tears Wright and Mia apart. They manage to eke out a second day by the skin of their teeth.

Edgeworth sees her leaving. All rage and pain wrapped up in fury. Scrambles to remember what it was that kid called her that had her preening for Days.

“Hey Ms. Whip Lady!” Oh he was getting hit for that.

The hit never came. “... What is it small child?”

“Would you like to play chess some time with me?”

“... If you would like,” (I am so lonely here) “I suppose I could.” (I just want my brother back) “My little brother loves that game you know?”

“I do.”

Edgeworth sneaking into Lana’s office to find some key evidence about the smuggling ring. Gant Almost finding him. Badd searching for the same group. Shields returning and putting together who Miles is after like 0.5 cases with him and proceeding to almost blow his cover every single time they meet. Edgeworth questioning the system that corrupted him. Badd being Deeply frustrated people keep letting the 5 year old Tails run around the crime scene. (Gumshoe why are you letting this happen?!)

Miles learning that Kay’s father was killed by the smuggling ring to stop the investigation. That Athena’s uncle/brother was framed for murder by them. Realizing that Sebastian’s father is the head of the organization that attempted to have him killed (you thought it was a coincidence we went after you? You sniff around a little too much and Von Karma wasn’t moving fast enough) Cody is- well he’s just a very good boy with a camera and a love of the steel samurai and justice. Miles loves him very much.

Phoenix getting so desperate to just Know if Miles is alive or not that he asks Maya to channel him. (Mia already refused) Maya accidentally pulling Gregory instead and Gregory, lost and confused, comforting Phoenix.

Ema developing a ‘cure’ for his deaged state but unfortunately it only works for a little while. “Phoenix I-” Love you too. He wants to say. But their isn’t time. There is Never enough time.

Them all tearing down the entire smuggling ring and uprooting the deep roots of corruption in their system. The sword raised above the guilty chest of the corrupted and damned ready to plunge it in for one final victory over evil and madness-

When Von Karma kicks the feet out from under him.

And suddenly their whole case is falling apart because their Lead witness is suddenly pleading guilty to his father’s murder and there are so many voices demanding his guilt and so many more asking where Tails went- No one cared about Edgeworth. Edgeworth should just Die. Let him just die boy. Don’t make us force your hand.

Miles curling up that Same Exact way Tails does after an earthquake. Phoenix who was So ready to defend him realizing that Miles has been manipulating him for Months now and leaving the courthouse in a rage. Franziska holding her brother that she’s been looking for so long as his bones Melt back down to youth. A glazed eye boy taking the stand and confessing to his father’s guilt. Mia griting her teeth and not knowing how to proceed.

Von Karma demanding a verdict because It’s rather obvious isn’t it?

Franziska yelling out Objection! Standing against her Father. Shaking and demanding a fair trial for him. Protecting her Little Brother from her Father. From Papa with shaking hands.

(I spent the last months thinking you’d taken him from me once. I’ll not stand by and let you do that to me for Real)

He delaying the trial enough that Wright comes back. Them fighting side by side. The kids yelling out things that Miles taught them. The Ballistic markings Mr. Nick!

Coming together at the last minute to save Miles Edgeworth. Uncovering the truth and exposing the corruption of the system. Miles and Phoenix talking. I wanted to save you. You did.

Edgeworth taking the detective kids out for trips to the museum after its all over. Them being surprised how little their dynamic changes despite the fact he can now drive. He is still an absolute pushover but now he can buy them candy.

Lana and Mia reconnect over this kid they got very attached to (Miles vs Tails) and swapping stories and dragging him mercilessly. Maya dragging Edgeworth in his full adult glory to their (previously established) weekly steel samurai viewing party that Does take place in a mountain of pillows and blankets.

Phoenix sitting up late that first night that Edgeworth went back home and Missing. Missing all the space that was filled by another person. By caring for another person. (Shouldn’t it be a relief? Why am I so empty?) Mindlessly calling Edgeworth who answers because he can’t sleep even though he’s exhausted. (i don’t want to dream and wake up alone.) Come over Edgeworth. Edgeworth sleeping on the futon on the floor and Wright dropping his hand over the edge for Edgeworth to hold. Edgeworth not waking up alone.

Detective Conan au.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

I’ve been rewatching CM and god, what I wouldn’t give for them to bring TG back for this revival. I haven’t even watched seasons 12-15 yet because I’m in denial about him being gone 😭😭😩

omg I haven't watched it either xD I've been holding off watching s11e22, The Storm, for like a month I swear. Which, I know is going to be amazing but I also have heard it's the beginning of the end and I'm not readyyyyyyy.

I would give anything for TG to come back. A n y t h i n g. But idk what CBS feels is the appropriate amount of time to be blacklisted or whatever the hell they did 🤷‍♀️ despite how it would be so easy to write him back in, and the missed opportunities is already making my skin crawl.

Okay. This was going to be a quick answer, but I've been THINKING about this way more than I should lately, without ever having watched 12-15 but I feel like I know enough, and with all the projects I'm going to be finishing/starting soon I know I won’t have time to do anything with my ideas. So I'm just going to type this little beginning I have plotted out and maybe one day I'll make it into the fic I want it to be:

(I know you didn't ask for a hc/blurb thing but surprise you get one xD)

CW: Spoilers for season 11-15 that are probably inaccurate af, fighting, violence, bit of blood and injuries talk, some profanity. 

-

((I legit have this all plotted out like a full season, and picture everything as shots and scenes and I know exactly how I would want to bring Hotch back.))

-

It would start in a small suburban town in Indiana, legit white-picket fence, middle of nowhere, off the grid town. With the most pedestrian name ever, we might as well call it Mayberry. Typical weekend morning, bright green grass and trees and summer sunshine lighting it all up, they still get papers delivered it’s that picturesque. And it’ll pan to all sorts of people on this street of nice, two-story houses, and finally zero in on not the man picking up his paper from his front porch, but the jogger slowing down that the man calls to next door, calling him a name we’ve never heard before -- but the jogger answers with that dark eyed squint and a nod... and it is Aaron Hotchner. Or the man who used to be Aaron Hotchner. He hasn’t gone by that name in years, WITSEC provided him and Jack with new ones.

His house isn’t even really decorated like a home, he’s been in enough over the years to know tell-tale signs of what a happy home should entail. Photographs, memorabilia, nostalgia tucked away in corners -- they don’t have that. He has a couple of photographs he keeps in his office, the only two in inconspicuous view being a photo of Haley and Jack when he was two years old, and a photo of his team the day he completed the FBI triathlon and they all showed up to support him. Everything else of their old life is in boxes in a storage facility in downtown D.C., under another false name that can never be linked back to them. 

Mr. Scratch was a poor excuse for why he and Jack were still under WITSEC, but he hopes near daily that it was enough of a reason that no one would question why he didn’t return once that monster was dead. That no one smart enough to read between the lines would go digging for more reasons, or worse -- try to find him -- and they pictured him living a happy retirement very similar to the charade he is living now. 

But Aaron Hotchner was never meant for retirement. No matter how easy and simple his days have been the past few years. It was only a matter of time. 

He walks through his home that looks more like the insides of a Home Living magazine, to his kitchen which is bright and spacious and tiled white that he knows Haley would have loved, getting a glass of water from the sink and chugging it all in one go. It isn’t until he’s getting a second glass that he hears it. The faucet was supposed to have masked any disturbance, they were careful in when they moved, how they placed their feet, the slowness of the their approach -- but not enough.

Hotch keeps his shoulders relaxed, his spine still ram-rod straight but that’s just how he stands and it keeps tension ready at a moment’s notice. Keeps him on alert, which he needs as he takes slower sips of water and lets all his other sense shift to a heightened awareness. Knows this house like the back of his hand, even if he’s never allowed himself to consider it home, so he knows which floorboards creak and where all the furniture is strategically placed. Always prepared for something like this to happen, even if he never imagined someone would be so bold. 

Their mistake.

With a careful tick of his head, peripherals his only guidance, he strikes before the intruder gets to. An iron grip and momentum that propels their face into the metal of the sink basin, shocking them that what their file was so misleading about their target. Retired FBI agent, almost 60 years old, living in Pleasantville with a picket fence and a vegetable garden. This should have been easy. The intruder is stunned by the blow, attempts a quick recovery where they lash out and get a few good body shots into the older man -- but he’s built like a brick wall, can take a blow and give it back twice as hard -- a few more precise hits and another crack of their face to the sink that shatters the bridge of their nose leaves the attacker slumping to the floor. 

“You didn’t do your research,” Hotch tells them, breathing a little heavy, opening up a drawer usually deemed for junk and pulls out zipties and an ancient looking cell phone buried deep at the back. “Sloppy. I expected more from him.” 

The attacker kicks out Hotch’s knees in a fit of rage (at having his skill set insulted so), leaving them both crashing to the floor. They grapple and fight a bit more, knocking dishes from the counters and pots and pans to the floor from the grill top island, but Hotch is so well-trained in take downs he gets the slighter man pinned with only a split lip and a single hitch in breath. He barely broke a sweat. Knocks the guy out clean, two solid punches to his face, and he stops because he knows better. Has been there before, and they need to question whoever was sent to his house to kill him. 

He’s barely off the floor, the intruder binded and stuck in a corner when Jack walks in from early morning soccer practice. Takes one look at the kitchen, his dad with blood in the corner of his mouth, and the guy all in black bound by zipties and already knows what happened. Sixteen, nearly as tall as his father now, he looks only mildly worried for all of two seconds until he sees that his dad has an old flip cell phone held up to his good ear, awaiting a connection with their handler in Indianapolis. 

“... Does this mean we get to go home?” 

The shot would pan back to Hotch, and he wouldn’t answer him, just tells the person on the phone to ‘patch him through, they have a situation’, and there would be no very obvious look in answer to Jack’s question. But all of us who know him, know the subtle changes in expression and the slight softening to that stern frown, knows what his reply would have been.

-

The very next scene would be the BAU. JJ and Emily walking at a brisk pace covering a debrief, since they basically run the department now. Everyone has been called in, everyone, retired and moved away and even the ones who cut all ties have been contacted. JJ has just gotten off the phone with Elle, who is working as a liaison in Rome and assured her that if anyone showed up in her home to attack her that they would be leaving in a body bag. But she appreciated the heads up. 

In the bullpen it’s more like a family reunion than anything. Garcia has just gotten off the elevators, a flurry of color and blonde curls and bright as ever, Morgan and Savannah are trying to corral Hank and the twins (both girls and pure chaos now that they can walk) while still making introductions with the new team and their families, and asking if Reid or Rossi know anything about what’s going on as JJ gets there and asks for everyone’s attention. 

“Not everyone is here yet, Kate and her family are on their way from upstate, Will’s getting the boys from school, and Alex and her husband are on a plane, but we need to get started as soon as possible.”

“What’s is going on, JJ?” Morgan asks, passing off one of the twins to Penelope who is in full baby fever mode despite what is obviously a very bad circumstance that has brought them all together. It’s a juxtaposition that has put everyone on edge. It doesn’t help when JJ and Emily look at each other as if in confirmation, trying to decide who is going to tell them.

“Okay, that doesn’t inspire confidence,” Rossi points out. “What happened?”

Emily sighs and makes a gesture for JJ to take the floor, since she has been on point for most of this.

The bull pen is silent in anticipation.

“Earlier this morning, Hotch was attacked in his home in Indiana,” she says, and whatever anyone thought was going on -- that wasn’t it. The shock across the room is like a bomb has detonated.

Rossi curses something out in Italian, looking down, and JJ immediately realizes how this all sounds. But doesn’t even get to backtrack as Reid looks completely devastated and Garcia like she’s about to cry and everyone else starts shouting questions at her. 

“What happened to Jack?”

“How did they even find him? What the fuck is wrong with WITSEC?!”

“Is he okay?” asks Tara, the only intellectual who can see the panic now blooming on JJ’s face.

“Yes, yes! He’s okay, sorry, no -- Hotch is fine. The guy who tried to kill him... not so much, but he should be conscious soon so they can question him.” 

“Jesus Christ, JJ,” Morgan says looking like he just aged ten years in the past 30 seconds. “Lead with that.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. He’s okay, Jack is okay, they’ve been picked up. But... there’s a lot we need to be filled in on,” she admits, which quiets the room once more. “Apparently, the WITSEC had nothing to do with Mr. Scratch. There’s something much bigger and more dangerous going on, and he went under to keep us all safe. As well as himself, and Jack.” 

“What is it?”

JJ makes a gesture with her hands splayed as she looks a little lost. “I only know bare bones, we have to wait to hear the specifics and get everyone somewhere safe.” 

“You think we’re going to trust WICSEC after this?!”

Emily intervenes this time, “We have a plan, or... Hotch has a plan, I think. We’re just learning about everything as we go, he’s really the one that knows the most about it.”

“Then where is he?” Morgan speaks up again. “If he’s been pulled out, and we’re all in danger, why isn’t he here explaining this to us himself?” 

It’s a good question, and everyone looks expectantly at the two women leading the informal briefing. 

“Will he come back at all?” Reid asks, speaking up for the first time. It’s been years, that’s a long time to rethink a life like the BAU, and everything it entails.

JJ takes a deep breath. “He’s... in--”

“Out-processing.” 

Hotch is at the back of the room. Everyone turns to him, even JJ and Emily look surprised to see him so soon.  ((But we all know the CM cinematography love that kind of return shot, so I’m catering to it. For situational parallels if nothing else. Imagine the gif sets.))

“I pushed it as fast as they could go, but WITSEC always drags their feet.” The familiar drone, dry barely-there-humor, breaks whatever spell that had been over the room at the sight of the old Unit Chief. Disbelief and relief and stunned surprise litter every expression, and although Penelope looks like the first to say something, her words change course just as she opens her mouth. Because  Hotch is still in civilian clothes, a duffle-bag over his shoulder he used as a go-bag for decades, and beside him with a bag of his own with messy dirty blonde hair is--

“Oh my God, is that Jack!?” she near sobs, the teenager smiling at her in a way that looks so much like Haley, and she goes to hug him first with the boy meeting her halfway. “You’re so tall! And so grown up, look at you!” There’s definitely tears and the team converges on the Hotchners all at once. Reid hugs Hotch first, as tight and bone-crushing as that night in Atlanta all those years ago, followed soon after by Rossi who looks like he might shake the man but just hugs him tight and plants an absurdly embarrassing kiss on his cheek that finally cracks Hotch’s expression into something like a smile. Everyone hugs, everyone, Savannah calls him Aaron instead of Hotch because that was how he’d introduced himself all those years ago, the twins wave shyly and he shakes hands with the newer members that never got to meet him but have heard very tall tales about him for years and years. 

(And y’all, it would be the best damn scene and I would sob like a baby watching it.)

Morgan would be the one that would hold back and let the others go first, but it would also be the most profound when Hotch goes to shake his hand and the other man uses that to pull him into a tight hug of his own. 

“I’m glad you can still hold your own,” he’ll tease with nearly no heat behind it. Hotch hears it for the caring that it is.

“Like hell I would let that happen twice in my own home,” he assures him. 

Everyone settles down, and Emily leads some finer points of what’s going to happen with everyone in the next few hours. Days. Weeks, even, because there’s no knowing what is going to happen next. Hotch observes her, and there HAS to be a shot where she glances over to him and they share a look of understanding -- because she is Unit Chief now, and he approves of what he sees. 

But she turns the floor over to him, and Hotch explains what’s going on.

((I’m going to leave the finer points out about the case and the unsub, mostly because I haven’t finished ironing them out yet and I hope once I watch the remaining season I will be able to much more easily))

But at SOME POINT in the briefing, when Hotch is explaining what happened with the assassin in his home and how he apprehended him, and Emily maybe interjects with the injuries sustained and that they are still waiting for the man to regain consciousness. Penelope will 100% lean over to where Jack is sitting beside her and say without flinching, “Your dad is such a bad ass.”

((I also plan on bringing up Reid was in prison in this scene but it will be more humorous than anything because of Hotch’s reaction, stay tuned on that one. Again I’m not there yet))

((and where I’m taking them is also a secret because I need to do research and it will be so damn cool, but Hotch has everything completely planned out -- like he does. Goes as far as asking the few who question him “Secure enough for you?” when he drops where they will be staying and the protection they will have. Full blown mic drop moment.))

“So gather all of your belongings that you have here. Secure pets and homes, call the kid’s schools, whatever you need to do,” Hotch informs them, stepping back into his old shoes as team leader without even meaning to. But no one tells him to stop. “We need to be in the air ASAP, the jet is being prepped as we speak so we need to move on this.”

He leaves it at that, and everyone doesn’t move. Watching, waiting, smirking a little bit (Penelope, maybe even Reid), until he gives in.

“Wheels up in 30.”

Garcia giggles so much she near cackles with it. “Oh, I just got goosebumps!” And by Emily’s smirk and Morgan’s shared grin with Reid, a million watts between them, everyone is up and moving and pulling out cell phones to get their affairs in order.

Rossi sidles up to Hotch at that point, also openly smirking that they got him to say those four time-honored words. “Welcome back, Aaron.”

And Hotch, well -- he looks around the room at the family he had to leave behind without any hope of seeing them again, and feels every hardened edge in his face and demeanor soften. Before he looks to Dave and tells him what’s been going through his head ever since he walked back through the doors of the BAU.

“It’s good to be home.”

((END SCENE))

[akirosama777]

If nothing brings me joy and I always feel quite hollow, does that mean I've died inside already because I refused to follow...

Every person in the world who seems to skate, to flutter by... while the music fills my hollow ears and bleeds from glassy eyes?

Am I worth the amount of energy that I never seem to have, while the mother I once called a friend goes out to poison herself and die?

And I stand here in the bleakness of a hollow, brittle world, while I pick up all of the pieces that she left when she unfurled...

I am broken and I'm bleeding... I have nothing left to give, but the love I'd once begun to give, and barely alive to live.

I was beautiful once... I had a dream... had a goal or two in mind... but I'm sitting here in the broken wake that her destruction left behind.

But it began way before my time, began with a little girl... my mom... and her grandpa, such a piece shit, let's called the bastard, "Tom,"

Took from her, her innocence, shattered her life apart, sent her down a road of agony, and her father killed her heart.

When he sent her far away at the behest of a beastly cunt, sent her to a boarding school, a common parental stunt.

And her life began at 11 when she'd had it all ripped away, sent her down that road of agony in blood and tears was paved.

Then at 16 she met a Jewish man, who with her had his way, then abandoned her with two children on one fateful Christmas day...

But she picked up the pieces, worked 3 jobs, she became addicted to a couple of drugs... met my father in a satanic band, acting like a thug.

So when she fell in love with him, got him to change his ways, both of them kicked the drugs they'd started and set out on another day...

She soon became again pregnant with my father's first born son, and he tried to kill the baby, with a doctor... not a gun...

Told her if she loved him badly, loved him half as much as she'd said, that she'd abort that fetus and remove its tiny head.

But she didnt... and he stayed... later giving birth to me... but that's not the last of her children... I was only number three.

Then as I grew he would abuse me, threaten, beat and apparently molest... then she had my little brother but he'd never face these tests...

As I began to mature and grow, I could see the patterns form, and my mind became a labyrinth as the alters would soon be born.

And at 6 I tried to end it... but my little brother was there... just one of the many treasures that kept me from joining the City of Air.

And he saved me... I don't know why, but he removed the chord I would choose... saved me from my madness as the alters began to fuse.

All the while my mother from her past she'd grown quite numb... and my father kept her helpless, kept her silent... kept her dumb.

My older brother fell to drugs and disappeared one day... right around the time, eleven I think, where I realized I'm gay...

And my sister fell to young love, to a man who started fires... and my mother fell to drinking when the divorce set forth in ire...

Sent my sister too to heroin and my mother to her dark, while my brother depended greatly on my ability to endure the harsh...

So I shouldered all that hatred... shouldered all the pain inside... let the alters guide me forward through the labyrinth in my mind.

I pushed forward for my brother until my little sister was born... as my mother found another man who left her completely forlorn.

And another life depended on the strength I'd come to own... after all the pain of a father, who's approval was never shown.

I was broken, I was bleeding, I was yearning for a hand... never found it... never searched, for on my own I had to stand.

Now my brother... little brother, grown and turned into a guy, who too had shouldered pain and suffering likely due to mine.

And my sister, little sister, worst of all had witnessed decay... and was tortured by a mother who'd been through so much hate and pain...

But im here now... for my sisters... for my brothers best I can... all five of me are standing and I've grown into a man...

But I'm broken... fuck... im broken... and my mother now she's gone... left my darling little sister on a strangers dying lawn.

And I'm picking up the pieces... trying so hard to hold me up... trying so hard to remember but the memories are scuffed.

Yeah this story's probably cliche... im sure you've all heard it once before... heard about a broken persona raped and bloodied on the floor...

Yeah, you've probably already heard it... probably seen it on a show... nothing shocks you people anymore, when it's something you already know.

I'm so certain that it's pointless to write these words and cry... while my mothers out there drugging and likely about to die.

And my sister... my poor little sister... all those years I tried to protect... will soon be here to visit this pathetic, broken mess...

And I'm trying to keep it together... to tell the alters to quiet down... in my brief and silent lucidity in a new and peaceful town...

And despite my anger... sadness... despite the insidious voice of pain... I understand why mother did it... though I know it doesn't explain...

But her life was so much harder... she'd had so much love to give... but the entire world around her let her run into their shivs.

So she tried her best at surviving, passed those lessons on to us... taught us how to keep on fighting but never how to trust.

Now I'm married... and I love him... but I'm broken, hurting, mad... at the life they gave my mother and that treatment from my dad.

I'm so full of rage and agony... so full of hope and full of pain... that's why I can't get to healing... why I cry whenever it rains.

And she's missing... my mothers missing... a person who never could refrain... She went out to numb the agony, the voices in her brain.

And... I empathize. I sympathize... I understand those thoughts... im still fighting... im still trying... Im still battling... distraught...

For my sisters and my brothers I have never touched a drug... for my sisters and my brothers I have never said no to a hug.

For my sisters and my brothers I am fighting yet, so hard... to keep my head above the water and stay away from all the shards...

I won't cut myself again... I won't try suicide to commit. I won't do again what I'd tried to do at least five times... maybe six.

For my father I'll keep fighting... I'll keep being a better man... prove him wrong and keep on going... on his grave I'll one day stand.

For my family that was broken... I'll keep searching for our mom... I'll keep hoping she'll find solace deep within her sorrowful song.

Mom if you're out there somewhere breathing, just know I understand and care... Im still your standing pillar, still your darling baby bear...

For my little sister Anna and for Justin im still here... I'll do my best to outlive them and watch them live out all their years...

I will never let this agony... from my health or lack there of... push me down to join the army of the defeated by the drugs.

I will never let this anger, let this rage or let this pain, push me to the point again where I grow more alters in my brain.

I'll keep fighting for my dogs... keep on fighting for my man. Keep on fighting for my sisters... and for my brother's I will stand.

[not-the-teen-witch]

Daddy Issues Lucius Malfoy x Daughter! Reader

Tiktok has done its magic and my obsession with Lucius Malfoy has sparked. Or it might just be my daddy issues acting up again, who know lol. Anyways, reader is Draco’s twin, a Gryffindor, and is basically the Sirius Black of the Malfoy family. She/her pronouns used. No warnings. Though you should know this is my first fanfic after going MIA on Wattpad and Quotev for a few years whoopsies.

Takes place over the course of first year. Listen to “Daddy Issues” by the Neighbourhood while reading to set the mood. 

I might make this into a multiple part story. But not follow the scenes strictly, just random drabbles here and there?? Idk, hopefully this won’t flop lol.

Daddy Issues

You ask me what I'm thinking about I'll tell you that I'm thinking about Whatever you're thinking about Tell me something that I'll forget And you might have to tell me again It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“Now, Y/N. Just like your brother did it. Just run straight through that brick wall, and you’ve made.” Your mother, Narcissa, says gently patting you on the back to motivate you.

You bit your lips to hide your nerves. Straight through it, huh? Oh, merlin. What if it decides I’m not good enough for it. I’ll surely make a fool out of myself. 

You grip tightly around your trolley, “Are you sur-”

“We don’t have all day now, darling. The train leaves at eleven, sharp. Enough twisting with your thumbs and get a move on.” Your father cuts you off. 

You grimace. Your relationship with your father, the oh so great Lucius Malfoy, wasn’t the best, at least at the moment. Don’t get it wrong, you’re his precious baby girl, the absolute apple of his eye, but you have a few, in his words, tweaks in your personality that his purist mindset just did not share.  

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues And if you were my little girl I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues And I do too

It began when you received your Hogwarts letter on your 11th birthday earlier that summer.

“Dad! I got my letter!” You say, racing down the steps of the Malfoy Manner to see your father.

He replies from his study room with a, “Don’t run, you’ll fall, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, always so overprotective. When you reach him you wave the letter in front of him, “Look! I finally got it!”

He stops reading his book and looks up, all while shifting from his area on the velvet green armchair to make room for you. You immediately take a seat in the small space. 

“Let’s see what we have here now, shall?” You nod your head at him as he opens the letter. “Ah yes, Hogwarts. Truly shocking how they want someone with the likes of you on their grounds.”

He has a twinkly in his eye when he says this. You know he’s joking though, that’s just the interactions between you two. 

You grab his face with your hands to get his attention, “Are you going to miss me?”

“Miss you? My own and only daughter who wakes up every morning with a mission to have my hair turn grey early. Miss you, you say?”

“Dad,” you groan.

He hides a smirk, “Happy birthday, my dear. You’ll make a wonderful Slytherin and teach those mudbloods who’s in charge.” 

About that..... “Dad, no.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Stop that, don’t call them mudbloods. And what makes you so sure I’ll be put in Slytherin?”

“Ha,” he lets out a bark of laughter. “There’s never been a Malfoy that fit in any other house. That’s absurd.” 

I tried to write your name in the rain But the rain never came So I made with the sun The shame always comes at the worst time

You look down.

“Y/N.” You look back at your father. 

His grey eyes that mirror yours perfectly, look at you coldly “Don’t bring shame to the Malfoy family. Remember that.” 

You ask me what I'm thinking about I'll tell you that I'm thinking about Whatever you're thinking about Tell me something that I'll forget And you might have to tell me again It's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“Make me proud.” Your father says, right before you enter the train. 

He flashes you one of his rare, genuine smiles and kisses you on the forehead. 

You heard him, Y/N. Make father proud. 

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you

You find the first empty compartment you see on the train. Your brother already went off with some of the other pureblood children. And you’re not exactly fond of them. 

There’s a boy with glasses and another with red hair when you enter. 

“Ehm, hi...” You awkwardly say. 

The boy with glasses smiles at you. “Hi there.” 

“Would it be alright if I sat here?” 

“Sure, take a seat.” 

I know that you got daddy issues And if you were my little girl I'd do whatever I could do I'd run away and hide with you I love that you got daddy issues

You learn the two boys you sat with were Harry Potter and a Weasley named Ron. They were charming, although you were sure your father would disagree. Luckily you didn’t tell them your last name. Who knows what outburst that’d cause from the redhead. 

You stand next to them as students get called up to get sorted.

Your stomach feels like it’s being shaken by mountain trolls and you try to control your breathing.

“GRYFFINDOR”

“RAVENCLAW” 

“HUFFLEPUFF” 

The sorting hat continues to call out the names of the houses as the students go up, one by one. 

Your twin gets called. 

Just as Draco takes a seat, the hat doesn’t even touch his head when it yells-

“SLYTHERIN” 

Draco has a look of pride on his face. Typical. 

“As expected,” mutters Ron to you and Harry. 

“Y/N Malfoy” 

Oh dear. Your turn.

“ -wait you’re his twin?” Harry look sat you confused.

You see your twin brother flash you a thumbs up.

You ignore them both and step forward. 

“Another Malfoy I see. But you’re more interesting than the rest. Unexpected. Ambitious? Yes, very much so but there’s also bravery. Lots of it too.” The sorting hat says.

No! You’re yelling in your head. Bravery? That’s Gryffindor. Please no. Father would disown me. 

“Slytherin then? No, no no. Tell daddy he’s in for a surprise because Slytherin not fit for you. You fit in-” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat exclaims.

The whole hall murmurs. “A Malfoy? Not in Slytherin?” “Gryffindor? Merlin, someone alert the Daily Prophet.” 

You get nudged towards the Gryffindor table, slowly you make your way.

 You hear a voice, “Well Fred, you know what this means.”

“I sure do, George.”

“WE GOT A MALFOY! WE GOT A MALFOY!” They chant and slowly the rest of the table begins to cheer loudly. The Slytherin’s table watches in awe. 

Your brother refuses to make eye contact with you. Your stomach drop at that.

I keep on tryin' to let you go I'm dyin' to let you know How I'm getting on I didn't cry when you left at first But now that you're dead, it hurts This time, I gotta know Where did my daddy go?

“First years! Follow me!” 

You begin to line up with the other first years. You stand near Ron and Harry. Ron gives you a suspicious look.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out. “I should have told you I’m a Malfoy.”

“You really shou-” Ron begins to say.

“No, it’s alright.” Says Harry. “You had your reasonings. Besides the point” he give Ron a sharp look, “You’re in Gryffindor now, that’s all that matters.”

“All that matters?” Uh oh, it’s your brother. “Wait until father hears about this. He’ll be mortified. You can kiss your spot on the family tree goodbye Y/N.” He looks disgusted at you.

“Leave her alone!” A first year girl with puffy hair and large teeth says. 

“And what are you going to do about it, mudblood.”

That sits off a rage off anger in you. 

“Oh shut it you prick!” Your brother looks at you, shocked. “I’ve had enough with your bigotry. Go ahead, tell father. We all know how much you want to be his favorite child, you kiss up!” You let out a angry sigh at that. 

“Well then, keep an eye out for a letter tomorrow morning by him. How does a Howler sound?” 

The girl with the puffy hair grabs your arm. “Come on”

“You know, I think you and I will get along just great.” 

I'm not entirely here Half of me has disappeared

It had been a few days since the sorting ceremony. Classes were already in full swing. 

You became very close friends with Hermione Granger, the girl who helped you out when your brother was acting like a complete, wild ferret. However, you and her got along quite well. You two had similar interests and were very dedicated in your classes. Granted you knew a bit more than her since you were taught were carefully by your father.

Speaking of father, you haven’t heard from him yet. But there’s no doubt in your mind that Draco hasn’t sent a letter yet. 

You shake out of your thought and make your way to the great hall. You spot the Weasleys and Harry and make a bee-line to them. 

“Hey there, mate!” One of the twins nod in your direction. 

“No mail yet?” You immediately ask the lot.

“Blimey, at least eat something first before you start interrogating us.” Ron mumbles, his cheeks filled with food. 

Harry shakes his head, “Not yet, expecting a letter?” 

“You could say that.” You groan.

You grab a piece of toast and spread butter over it when you hear the sounds of the owls flying into the great hall. You quickly scan them over, keeping your eyes peeled for any Malfoy family owls.

You look over to your twin, an owl drops a package of goodies. Must be from mother, you think bitterly in your head. You didn’t get a package. 

The thought makes your stomach drop. They must know then.

“Huh, would you look at that. It’s a howler!” Percy Weasley points out.

The twins glace at you.

“Y/N....” One of the twins begin to say.

The howler drops right in front of you. Oh grandfather Abraxas, please help me.

In fancy calligraphy that you recognize very well, the name Lucius Malfoy is written. 

“So... are you going to open that?” George asks with an eyebrow raised.

“The longer you wait, the louder it’ll be. But hey this is Lucius Malfoy so you don’t really have much luck any way.” Fred jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

You hands shake as you hold it, “Should- should i open it?” 

“It’s going to burst any second, no need for that.” Harry look bewildered.

“Oh to hell with it.“ You open the letter. 

“Y/N NARCISSA MALFOY!” Your father’s voice booms, the great hall quiets down to listen in. “A GRYFFINDOR?? NEVER IN THE MALFOY FAMILY NAME HAS THIS HAPPENED BEFORE. A BLOOD TRAITOR IS WHAT YOU ARE. IT DISGUSTS ME TO CALL YOU A CHILD OF MINE.”

Your face turns an unnatural shade of red but the howler continues in a calmer voice. “My own child, my little girl. Tarnishing the family name like this. Absurd. Don’t even think about coming home this winter. And enjoying the company of Mudbloods and other blood traitors? Tsk, a shame. Such a great shame. Don’t bother sending any letters, they will immediately be discarded of.” 

The letter explodes and the only evidence that it even happened it the looks of pity you getting from the three other houses. The Slytherin table is bursting with laughter. 

“Ignore them Y/N. Not worth your time. The Slytherin gits and your father. If you could even call a man like that a dad.” Ron shakes his head.

You catch your brother’s eyes, he has a soft, sad look but quickly switches when he catches you looking. 

“Did you bloody hear that? I could never be such an embarrassment to the wizarding name.” Your brother boasts. 

Your friends try to divert your attention but all you can think of is your dad. 

No. Don’t be sad Y/N, you say to yourself. You’re meant to be a Gryffindor, and you’ll prove daddy wrong. Right? You’re a Malfoy after all. 

Go ahead and cry, little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues