#nine b lives in my brain

[tomwambsgans]

hands down funniest thing he's ever said

[luvmahae]

where you are ‣ lee haechan smau

summary: what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

pairing: fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

genre: smau, non-idol au, college au, fluff, nsfw/suggestive (mdni!) comedy, humor, slight slowburn, strangers to lovers, rave bae core? (am i in love with you or is it just the drugs?)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/substance usage (marijuana, mdma/ecstasy, lsd, cocaine), profanity, jokes about sex and death thrown around, both groups are out of pocket and tmi doesn't exist apparently... no ones safe! the boys gc is kinda questionable (this is where i say men deserve no rights!), haechan x reader met at an edm festival (the term rave bae will be said here and there. rave bae is someone you meet unexpectedly while raving, kinda like your temporary s/o for the duration of the rave or festival... smth like that!) disclaimer notice: these portrayals are fictional and are not intended to encourage or glamorize substance use.

playlist: where you are - john summit | club classics - charli xcx | intimidated - kaytranada, h.e.r. | high and i like it - it's murph, evalyn | what a life - john summit, stevie appleton | saving up - dom dolla | talk talk - charli xcx, troye sivan | mr useless - shygirl, sg lewis, club shy | atmosphere - fisher, kita alexander | thinking about you - calvin harris, ayah marar | gas pedal remix - john summit, subtronics, tape b, sage the gemini

notes: omg!!! my first post ever... honestly i've been debating to do this for a long time... now here i am :D ngl i lowkey based this off a personal experience (i am a changed woman now okay... spare me! 😭) my first lil fic dedicated to haechan!!! the playlist is highly edm biased with a sprinkle of brat. i just think it fits the vibe so well hehe. open to feedback and enjoy!!! ♡

status: ongoing!

taglist: closed!

profiles: live laugh love y/n (1), john summit fanboys (2)

intro: so.... edc next year?

one: comedown

two: wtf is college

three: boutta fuckin jump (written)

four: y/n’s eras tour

five: is my brain braining?

six: heyyyyyy 👀

seven: i know what u are…

eight: tequila ftw (written)

nine: ot3 timeout

ten: i want u 😩

eleven: drunk olympics

twelve: stuDYING

thirteen: agram 🙏😭

fourteen: gn haechan (written)

fifteen: team y/n

sixteen: options

seventeen: u did ur big one 😞

eighteen: h for harry styles

nineteen: kms postponed! (written)

twenty: haechan x y/n crumbs

twenty-one: how tf we feelin (written)

coming soon!

twenty-two:

twenty-three:

twenty-four:

twenty-five:

twenty-six:

twenty-seven:

twenty-eight:

twenty-nine:

thirty:

[rafesangelita]

⋆˚✿˖° rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader reevaluate their living situation now that she’s carrying a little baby in her tummy.

warnings: babydaddy!rafe, pregnancy, soooo much fluff, crying (mostly happy tears! no worries), rafe is so reassuring :(

a/n: introducing rafe’s condo to my blog.. but tanneyhill will forever be my go-to :( also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the second tag of this post: ‘₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafe’

“why do you look so sad, baby?” rafe joined you outside, bringing you a cold glass of water as he urged you to sit down on his lap. you were growing teary-eyed again, your gaze falling on the pink and white camper in front of you. taking a small sip, rafe held onto the glass for you while you wiped at your tear stained cheeks. “it’s just,” you sniffled, “i know we can’t raise a baby here, but this little thing— it’s all i’ve ever known..” you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. rafe studied you for a moment, stroking the side of your face.

“i’ve been meaning to talk about that actually,” rafe cleared his throat, “what if we didn’t go house hunting?” his words drew your attention, a hum falling from your lips. “and stay here? i would love that,” you shook your head, “but i know it’s for the best. we barely fit in there ourselves.” rafe laughed. “yeah, i know.. someone is always bumping their head when we have sex.” your cheeks heated as you slapped his arm playfully. “well to be fair, it was just me in there before you came along,” you sighed, “i can’t even imagine that now.” you pecked his cheek.

“at first, i thought maybe we could check out some houses on figure eight..” your eyes widened, your lips parting to reject his suggestion. “but,” rafe interjected, “i know that’s not really your scene.” he reassured you. “so i want to propose something else,” both of you looked at each other, “i’ve been working on this blueprint, m’thinking we just get our house built out here. you could design the kitchen however you want, whatever would be best for you and your baking, we can put the nursery together, do the whole thing y’know. go the whole nine yards.” you swallowed thickly, tears pricking your eyes.

“you have a blueprint?” you smiled, your vision becoming blurry as rafe nodded. “yeah, you wanna see?” you whispered a ‘yes, please!’ before he guided you inside. he reached for a spot you couldn’t reach in your cabinet, unraveling the blueprint in question. “see, right here? i thought you’d like the kitchen to have big window facing the backyard, oh, and right here!” he pointed a finger, “we could have shelves built into the walls for the baby’s room, we could even have a reading nook for bedtime stories..” your heart felt so full right now, you swore it could burst at the seams.

“what’s this empty space right here in the backyard?” you held up the paper, pointing to a spot where a little white heart was drawn. “..that would be where your camper goes.” your head shot in his direction, your eyebrows knitting in confusion. “what do you mean?” you put the blueprint down, turning around while he caged you between his arms. “i think we should build the house just right out front, you don’t have to move anything, relocate the camper, none of that. i could start getting the brush cleared out as soon as next week.” you blinked, your brain trying its best to piece everything together.

“you thought of all of this in the two weeks since we found out?” your hands snaked up his chest until your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe embraced you, his eyes shutting at the sweet scent of your perfume. “i told you, you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. i’m taking care of everything.” you breathed him in, both of you rocking softly as the wind chimes sung outside in the light breeze. you two stayed in a comfortable silence, the image of watching the sunset together on the porch of your own house with a baby on your hip flooded both of your minds.

“it’s perfect.” you looked up at him, smiling when he pecked the tip of your nose. “the three of us, huh?” rafe loved the way that sounded rolling off of his tongue. “mhmm,” you let out a shaky breath, “the three of us.”

[seventhcallisto]

DEEP DOWN.

alpha!Ateez x omega!f!Reader

Idol!Ateez x Idol!F!Reader (A/B/O!AU 9th Member!AU)

You've got every right to be upset. How you tossed and turned the last time. In misery, you dealt with it on your own. You've felt so hot for so long with nothing to keep you cold, although it's only your second heat. They seem the worse they can get. You've got whatever you can reach in a vice grip. God, if only you hadn't spent so much time with so many alphas in a cramped area. If only you heard the valcano errupting in your dna. Maybe it'd be different. Maybe you'd still be a beta, living your life normally. Rather than suffering in a cold dim room, keeping yourself away from the 8 guys your silly half omega brain yearns for. Something you never asked for. Yet, deep down you beg for.

Synopsis: When the 9th member of ateez figures out her beta dna changed because she's spent years surrounded by alphas. Now, a late bloomed omega, she finds herself losing control of the reins of her body and feelings. With the alphas hot on her trail, exposing her secret, she can't decide if she's willing to risk letting them in or cutting off the guys entirely.

CW and content; She/her pronouns used, female anatomy, ot8 x reader, polyamorous relationships. MATURE THEMES! A/b/o, implied soulmates, imprinting, marking, mating bites, heats, ruts, knotting, breeding kink, all that jazz. This is purely self indulgent. 9th member! reader. alpha! ateez x beta turned omega! reader. (I'll explain that later) ANGST! lots of it at first. and lots lots lots of fluff. mutual pining(they don't know it yet tho). number of chapters will be updated as I go down the line. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. PERIOD.

All the content in this story is fictitious. This fanfiction contains mature content. This is an original work of fiction made by seventhcallisto. Do not steal, copy, or plagiarize my works.

WORLD BUILDING— scents.

My masterlist ☆ | 71.8k word count.

Prologue. — 💠 4.5k

Chapter one 6.3k ❝why didn't you answer my calls?❞

Chapter two 6.3k ❝you promise?❞

Chapter three 6.7k ❝meet me halfway.❞

Chapter four 6.1k ❝mirrors❞

Chapter five 11.6k ❝just one.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter six 12.3k ❝lips & hips.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter seven 9.0k ❝your best girl.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter eight 8.6k ❝sensitive.❞ (nsfw)

Chapter nine. Chapter ten.

To Be Continued. 🪼

Comments keep me motivated ! Thank you for supporting.

© seventhcallisto 2023

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Masterlist

A/N: A OneShot which became a ShortFic lol. Special thanks goes out to the reader who encouraged me to write more parts :3 So far I've had a lot of fun and it's just the beginning XD

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: will be mentioned in every chapter ✦ Spoiler: same as above lol

Status: ongoing

Description: It annoys you that you're starting to develop feelings for Ace. Unlike you, he's just unreliable, messy and has no brains. Sure he's hot as the sun but how can a woman like you be into a guy like him? Face your feelings… It's okay to get burned once in a while… As long as it's Ace…

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten

A/N: What makes me particularly happy? YOUR HASHTAGS & COMMENTS. LOL. I feel you guys… No… I LOVE you guys!

Here are some of my favorites ;D

#never wanted to be a cowgirl until ace - A/N: sameee gurlllll #awooga - A/N: I screamed when I read that. I definitely added that to my daily vocabulary, awooga! #ah one bed and so much Ace - A/N: We don't need a bigger bed if we can just sleep on Ace, do we? *-* #I would have him roast me a marshmallow if he were mine + #literally but also I'm the marshmallow - A/N: HAHAHA BRUHhh. *cries pls roast me aceeee #cannot wait to see y/n play the part of happy wifey - A/N: I'm telling you; we're going to have some fun *rubs hands together

Comment: RAHHHHH ATE THIS SHIT UP I LIVE LAUGH LOVE ACE MAN - A/N: Who doesn't babe… who doesn't… *-* Comment: ur way too good at this IT SHOULD B ILLEGAL - A/N: Awww pls stop… Or no, wait; PLEASE DON'T HHahaaha <3

byeeeee sweeties ♡♡♡

[muses-with-afp]

In terms of Bleachy things that I am never not thinking about given my particular sort of brainrot, it would have to be Chapter 179, Confession in the Twilight. Today, I want to overthink long and hard about assumptions fandom often makes about Hisana. Some of these assumptions are not well-supported by the canon. Other of these assumptions likely stem from material added by the anime and/or the movie Fade to Black.

Because I'm sort of "meh" on the supplementary material from the anime and pretty "blah" on the Bleach movies overall, I will stick to the manga. (I am also a simple creature with only two brain cells to rub together now-a-days so... there's that, too.) I am sure there are more assumptions one could pick apart and torture to death, but for the sake of brevity (I write cackling because when am I ever brief?) below are my top three.

1. Assumption One: Hisana had no spiritual power/pressure

This one is odd to me because we, the audience, do not have a whole lot of evidence to base this assumption off of. Byakuya never says anything of this sort to Rukia during the confession:

Although, it is possible that Hisana was spiritually weak, and what made it difficult for her to survive was taking care of a baby with significant spiritual pressure/power. This explanation is entirely possible, but, based on the English translation, it is not the only interpretation one could draw.

Honing in on the"[b]ut it was hard for her to survive there while caring for you..." bit, this could suggest that Hisana, in fact, needed more than vibes and water to survive herself. We get a sense in Bleach that siblings often have similar capacities in terms of spiritual power and pressure, and we know Rukia is spiritually gifted. Accordingly, one could make the leap that Hisana, too, had some spiritual capacity. Now, I think the case for sibling similarities in spiritual talents is probably strongest for the souls born in SS since they presumably are most "genetically" related (or whatever concept passes for "genetic" relationships in SS), one assumes. This, of course, also assumes you buy the idea that Hisana and Rukia were just ordinary souls who passed from the WOTL to SS. KT, however, has thrown a wrench into this explanation by suggesting that Rukia is a secret... eighth thing/potential hybrid. (At least, I think we are up to eight soul "ecotypes" now .... Maybe it's nine if we add in the lore from Burn the Witch.) Perhaps this secret variation/hybrid is specific to Rukia, or maybe it applies to both sisters equally.

Other evidence that could support Hisana as having some spiritual capacity (beyond being a spiritual dandelion) includes:

According to Renji, the only way to escape Inuzuri was to attend the Academy/become a shinigami. It's possible that Renji was speaking only in terms of "legality" (i.e., the only legal way to leave your assigned district/town/placement is to gain admittance to the Academy) since we know Kenpachi and crew exist. Could Hisana have gotten out of Inuzuri using the Academy loophole? Sure! Why not? Was Hisana a bloody tank like Kenpachi and fought her way out of the city? Maybe but probably not, since she felt driven to abandon her sister, which doesn't seem very warlord-like of her. Maybe Hisana never actually left Inuzuri after the abandonment. The "[a]bandoned you and ran" (emphasis mine) part of the story makes it sound like she left the city, but maybe she just ran away from Rukia and went to another part of Inuzuri or the district.

Rukia somehow managed to survive (i.e., maybe it wasn't the demands (or just the demands) of a spiritually needy baby that drove Hisana to abandon her). We don't know much/anything about the period of Rukia's life between the abandonment and meeting Renji, so it's hard to say how needy she was as a soul baby.

Hisana hung out with/lived with Byakuya, who we know (a) has a metric ton of spiritual power and pressure, and (b) lives in a city full of similarly situated souls. Canonically, weaker souls seem greatly affected by the spiritual pressure of the more spiritually capable souls in Bleach, which could suggest that she had enough to withstand living in Seireitei and being married to someone with a lot of the stuff.

Depending on whether you think Rukia is anywhere near the ballpark in terms of her age vis-à-vis Ichigo (150 years, by the way), Hisana's life span would have been about 100 years in SS, which isn't particularly short. It seems that souls with some spiritual power/pressure tend to live longer than souls without it.

As Byakuya continues with his confession to Rukia, he says that Hisana "searched for [Rukia] almost every day for the next five years." If you take this literally, it sounds like Hisana went out into the slums regularly, which is pretty far away from Kuchiki manor. Without some sort of fast travel option (the Kuchiki are rich so maybe one exists...), it seems that she would have needed to learn a pretty good flash-step to make that trek anyway feasible. Although, it is possible that Byakuya meant Hisana searched for Rukia in a more abstract sense since, as a noble, she would finally have resources (beyond her physically trekking out there) to conduct a search. It could also be both.

2. Assumption Two: Hisana was (or was not) doing XYZ before marriage

This assumption likely piggybacks off the one above. Since we are given no indication as to what Hisana was doing before marriage, if you assume she was a spiritually weak being, it makes sense for the years between abandonment and marriage to be full of scrounging and hiding from scary beings/thugs/monsters/take-your-pick. And, true, the reckless noble/prince taking an unwashed but kindly peasant girl as a wife is an oldie goldie in terms of romance tropes.

But, as noted above, Hisana could have been literally anything. Shinigami? Sure! Secret agent/informant? Why not!? In CFYOW, Yourichi gets pretty annoyed at Tokinada for speaking ill of Hisana. It's possible that she's irritated with him because he's trying to goad Byakuya into an altercation and is using Byakuya's dead wife as the ammo (which, yeah, is a pretty gross thing to do). Alternatively, there could be a personal connection between the two women (which may provide further color on Rukia being chosen as a vessel for the orb, don't mind me just out here speculating). We know the higher districts are rough, and, at least according to Renji, Inuzuri is full of criminals and bastards of all stripes. Hisana could've been a crime lord, a lackey to a crime lord, a thief, a prostitute, a hustling gambler, a bookie, basically anything. The vagueness is glorious!!!

3. Assumption Three: Hisana died of ghost consumption a respiratory illness

This assumption likely arises from the anime (although forgive me if I'm wrong about this since it has been a while since I've watched the anime) and Fade to Black, which has a scene where Hisana has a coughing fit. The manga, however, gives no indication:

All Byakuya says is he "lost his wife." To what? Who knows?! Be more specific, Byakuya!

We also don't get a whole lot of evidence to indicate what killed her during the confession scene.

Hisana isn't sweating, and her futon is white as is the bit of clothing we see, so it doesn't look like she's necessarily suffered a physical attack/assault. She's also, notably, not coughing....

For reference, below are Byakuya's bludgeoned panels because we have a lot of parallels between her deathbed request and Byakuya's confession to Rukia:

To be fair, Byakuya's blanket and pad aren't bloody either, but his captain's coat sure is, and, goodness, is he sweaty! Although, perhaps Byakuya's memory of Hisana strips away the gory and gruesome bits (e.g., blood, sweat, coughing, gasping, gurgling death rattles, anguished groaning, etc.) since... well... no one actually dies pretty.

Based on the manga retelling of Hisana's expiration, the cause of death was... literally anything. Okay, I kid. I kid.

Sort of.

Maybe her COD wasn't literally anything. She was at least in a bed ready for death and had enough time to call upon her husband. (Although, so is Byakuya here, and he was stabbed like thirty minutes ago and is giving similar sorts of vibes to poor Rukia.) My guess is that whatever Hisana had, she succumbed to it over a period of time, which rules out causes of death that come fast, but a lot of deaths aren't immediate (unfortunately). Maybe she sustained internal injuries that took her, which would parallel nicely with Byakuya in these panels. Maybe she had "beautiful wife consumption," which is an oldie goldie trope for doomed lovers. Maybe she had whatever soul flu or illness afflicted Byakuya's dad. Maybe she had some sort of soul cancer. If you're doing the math (or a version of the math since time in Bleach is wobbly), Byakuya and Hisana married a year or so after WWII. It's not a pleasant thought, but cancer (leukemia and solid) rates went up five+ years later for obvious reasons, and perhaps this is an abstract/unconscious nod to that of sorts.

But, who can say??? Not me, that's for damn sure!

From a practical story-telling perspective, I imagine that KT leaves a lot of wiggle room around this period to avoid caging himself in for whatever reveal he had/has in store regarding Rukia's backstory/heritage/why Urahara picked her to put the orb into/etc.

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part four)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff

summary: getting to know wanda and natasha must be wonderful, right?

warnings: swearing, bad flirting once again, hints of sexual themes

word count: 2.4k

an: hi! hello! im back, hopefully my wifi will work forever from now on. thank youuuu for all of your support, i love you guys so much!!! so sweet!  💞 💕 💞 

(italica = your thoughts)

In the last three days you checked your phone like nine billion times, still nothing. Being frustrated is a weak word to use in this situation. You were furious, screen time on your phone went up by 89% as it almost hit the number of 13 hours per day. You could make a bet that you´ve seen every Instagram post, every latest information on twitter, in the second it was posted.

I am going to die, I swear. Did I just get ghosted again? Again?  

You let out a big sigh, looking around your room makes you go back to reality as you notice the mess. Not just in your head, but also everywhere around your camp spot, for the past days. Seeing this doesn’t make you very happy, but you're really not in the mood to clean up this bomb situation.

Your phone buzzes.

Every thought bothered by the junk in your living room is now out of your mind at the same speed as it came in. Jumping for your phone wasn’t the smartest idea as you stab yourself with something, you grab it.

What the fuck? A fork?  

The fork is being thrown away, landing somewhere between your box from take-out and dirty sleeping shirt.  

Your phone buzzes again.

Finally, you took it and looked at your messages. Your eyes quickly scan who texted you. It´s Natasha.

Oh my god! It´s her! Yes! Celebrations!

You smiled to yourself as you did something like a cheerful winning dance. Knowing you´re alone, you went fully in with that dance moves. Clicking on the message so you can get some satisfaction makes your heart skips a beat.

Natasha🔥

<12:49>

Hey sweetheart! We´re at town, would be okay if we came to yours for a bit?  

<12:50>

To talk of course 😉

Your cheeks immediately turn to a shade of pink. The heat makes you take off your hoodie, but it does not help at all, you stand up and start to walk around the messy room, dodging everything that lies on the floor. Looking back at the phone, your fingers quickly type your agreement.

They did not ghost me, nice.  

Your phone buzzes one more time.

Natasha🔥

<12:55>

20 minutes and we will be there! xx

You look around and a sigh of relief escapes your mouth. Typing quick “okay” as a reply must be enough, your brain can't type more than that as you're already smiling. Only happy thoughts in your head, the two gorgeous women are actually sent from heaven. Sitting back on the couch did not last long, you got back up as you noticed that the mess was still everywhere, and you had 20 minutes to clean it.

Shit.

You cursed yourself for being gay mess, literally. Being the clumsy you, it took you seven slip ups on your own clothes and three times spilling the same coffee cup to understand that you have zero chance of cleaning this in time.  

Okay, come (Y/N), you’ve got this.

You look at the floor where the spilled coffee is slowly rolling to you.

Maybe I don’t.  

The more you look around the more you feel trapped, the chaos on the ground surrounds you. You don´t even know where most of the things came from. Papers and books are scattered across the coffee table, empty snack wrappers the floor, and a pile of laundry has found its way onto the couch as well as on the ground, chair and somehow even on the kitchen counter. Taking off your rings sounds like a good first step.

Sigh.

Determined, you grab an old towel and luckily you find a bucket, so you fill it with soapy water, ready to clean it all. As you kneel, you can't help but wince at the sticky sensation as your hands encounter the wet mess. You start scrubbing aggressively, hoping to remove every trace of the many accidents. But the coffee spill is just the beginning. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for the next task. You spot the papers first, and you quickly gather them up, trying to sort them into some order.

Burger king coupon? Where did i even get this?

You aim it from a distance, thinking you won't need to take the extra five steps to actually put it in the trashcan. Unexpectedly, your aim is much better than you thought it was possible. You grin with pride, quickly forgetting that you have work to do.

Okay, what´s next? Oh.

Rushing to the couch, you scoop up the pile of laundry, quickly folding and stacking them in a corner. It's not perfect, but it will have to do for now. Time ticks away, urging you to keep moving. The once cluttered floor now starts to regain its sense of space, giving you a glimmer of hope that you might finish in time.

But the clock continues to tick faster and faster, and there's still work to be done. You dart around the room, dusting off surfaces, straightening cushions, and rearranging misplaced items. Your hands move swiftly, almost instinctively, as you strive to restore order to your living room.

It doesn't look that bad. It looks like my old apartment... kinda-ish.

It's not perfect, but it's significantly improved. The spilled coffee has faded, the papers are neatly stacked, and the floor is no longer a minefield of wrappers and clothes. You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Quickly running to the bathroom, you take the first perfume and spray it in the living room. Breathing faster than you should you start coughing at the way too sweet perfume hitting your nose.

With only moments to spare, you make a final sprint to the front door, checking your appearance in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself for your angel's arrival, hoping that they will see it as a normal apartment, despite the recent chaos that had occupied you and your living room.

Ding ding.

Oh my god, they are here! Okay, it´s happening. Everybody stay calm. Everybody stay calm down! Haha, office reference.

You giggle at your own thoughts as you peak at yourself one more time in the mirror, winking at yourself.

That was cringe.

You shake your head a little bit, trying to gain confidence you once definitely had somewhere. Quickly opening the door was one way ticket to gay panic once again. Your heart skips a beat as you take in their presence. Natasha, with her confident stance and piercing gaze, smiles as you open the door.  

Beside her stands Wanda, radiating an otherworldly aura. Her expressive eyes hold a mixture of sweetness and authority at the same time.

Speechless for a moment, you find yourself in the presence of two ladies who probably have the superpower of looking heavenly in any circumstances. The gravity of their presence fills the room, and you can't help but feel hotter than from the world record cleaning you did just a minutes ago.

“Hello, pretty girl.” red head said.

“Hi! Hello, welcome!” You move to the side so they both can enter your apartment.

Welcome? What am I? A bellboy or something?

Closing the door, you let out a big sigh, trying to get your brain cells together to work as a team.

They both walk in, looking around the place you're living in. Trying to take small details about you, Wanda immediately looks at the pictures you have on the wall. Bunch of meaningfull and meaningless pictures together.

“Aww you look very cute here, is this your dog?” Wanda asks with a wide smile as she turns to look at you for a second and then she looks back on the pictures.

“Uh no, that was... Uh my friend´s dog.” You stutter a little bit, that caused Natasha to look at you straight away.

“Friend´s?” She comes closer to you. “I don’t like lying, sweetheart, do you love?” She tilts her head, and her beautiful eyes look at her girlfriend.  

“Nope.” Wanda smirks already knowing what´s about to come, but still pays more attention to the pictures.

Natasha's eyes meet yours, her gaze steady and observant. Swallowing hard was another indicator for the older woman that you're not telling the whole truth.

“Technically it´s not a lie.” Your eyes squint a little bit.

Hearing Wanda let out a very adorable chuckle didn’t help you at all. But you don’t dare to look at her, you're still fixated on Natasha, who is watching you like a mother who is waiting for your explanation after being at a parent - teacher meeting.

“But practically we were uh more than friends...” you squint your eyes even more, biting the inside of your cheek as a replacement of fidgeting with your rings as you took them off while you were cleaning.  

“You were?” She was playing with you, it was obvious, you knew it right away. Simply nodding wasn’t the answer here, but you suddenly lost your voice. It was like she caught it and with her big, muscular fist and didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.  

You clear your throat, hoping it would give you few milliseconds to think of an answer.

“That´s why the picture is ripped. He was uh also there, but I cut him off. I love his dog thought.” You try to laugh it off, but Natasha maintains the same face expression. “I call it my straight era.” another joke that actually worked this time. 

All of you laughed at that statement.

Bingo. Mrs. Joker is back in the game. Oh gosh. Cringe, extra cringe. Calm down. Please and thank you.

“We all had that era.” Natasha added, while Wanda came back and nodded.

“I get it though, that dog is very cute.” she chuckled.

You smile at Wanda but hearing Natasha´s comment made you turn back to her.

“Oh, you did? Tell me more!” You smirked looking at Natasha, hoping she will tell you something about her “straight era”. “Pretty please!”  

“Aw you have such a nice manners, darling. Okay, alright.” Natasha giggles. Wanda was already sitting down as she almost broke your arm dragging you with her as well. She pulled you towards her, so you were sitting on her lap.

“Oh... um I-” you blushed already feeling the warm feeling in your stomach.

“We need to train this a little, baby, you're just sitting in my lap now, can you imagine other things? You would explode.” Wanda winked at you, wrapping her hand around you, squeezing you a little tighter. As Natasha finally sits next to you on the couch, watching your interaction with Wanda.

After two hours of talking from your first boyfriends to your favorite episode of Scooby-Doo, you figure out both of them are not so different from you. Maybe Natasha owning a big motorcycle company and Wanda owning architectural corporation makes them richer than you, but besides that. You three are pretty similar. You have lots of things in common, reading, watching movies and shows, cooking, going on walks, cuddling.  

Wanda and you were having the longest conversation about why Emily Dickinson is the best poet, while Natasha only knew she was very fruity and wrote a poetry, but she was admiring how you and her girlfriend were understanding each other so effortlessly without speaking like a normal human being. When the new topic finally came in, Natasha took the lead and asked you a bunch of questions about your favorite music. When she showed her playlist, you had to let out a big laugh.

“Taylor Swift, really?” you look at her, while you shift at Wandas lap to get a better look at her playlist.

“What? I don’t look like a Swiftie?” She acted like she was hurt by your words.

“Uh, no?” you laugh even more. “You look like a Nirvana kind of guy, Blink 182, Pink Floyd, but not a Swiftie, no.” you admit.

“When we started seeing each other I told her I like Taylor Swift, since then she is listening to her non-stop.” Wanda explained.

“See? That makes sense. Wanda...” you nod towards her “the ray of sunshine is a Swiftie and it make so much sense.”  

“So just because I wear black that means I can't listen to Taylor?” She fights playfully back.

“I didn’t say you can't, I just meant that you... a motorcycle company owner who wears leather even as a pj´s won't just play Shake It Off in her shop.” you try to make your point.

“True. Because I think Shake It Off is a song that gets too much credit, just because it´s a simple pop. But something like Eyes open or Better Than Revenge would be great to play in there.” she smiles “Also I don’t think people would mind if I played anything like Lover, because sometimes you much rather hear a song that speaks to you, other than something that just sounds okay and has a lots of drums in it.” she finishes you off.

You don’t say anything at all, you just nod.

“It was your game and you still lost, baby.” Wanda teases you a bit.

“Okay, fine. Fair points, you won.” Even though you don’t want to, you admit it.

“Like I always do.” She moves closer and kisses your cheek.

You tense in Wanda´s arms.

“Relax, detka. We got you.” Wanda whispers in your ear, slowly moving her hands to your stomach as Natasha comes closer to you.

“Yeah, (Y/N). Relax, baby.” Natasha finally connects your lips together as she makes your mind empty. The gentle pressure of her lips against yours sparks a surge of warmth. Her touch evokes a tingly sensation that makes your heart skip a beat. The warmth and softness of her touch imprint upon your senses, etching a memory that you know will linger long after the kiss is over. But for now, her lips are in the perfect place, on yours. If this wasn’t enough, you feel other lips on your neck. As Wanda´s lips trail along your neck, a shiver dances down your spine, electrifying every inch of your being. The gentle press and release of the younger woman kisses unleash pleasure and vulnerability at the same time, leaving a mark, both physical and emotional on your neck. 

Your brain is now overtaken by these two goddesses, leaving it empty as the first time you saw them.

That empty you don’t even realize that they didn’t need you to text them your address to find out where you live.

an2: let me know your thoughts on this and what should happen next! If i didn´t tag you, let me know as well and i´ll add you!!

taglist: @arualdcg​ @beholdagaywriter​ @snowdrop1026​ @itsdoni@newawakening9​ @aliherreraaa @zzswiftyzz​ @lesbiantothemoonandback​

[kikyoupdates]

Leave Your Mark ⭑˚🧪⭑ 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦

bnha x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, my hero academia x fem!reader, slowburn

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last. No matter what it takes, you are going to leave your mark.

previous | story masterlist | next

“Kai, do you want to eat lunch together?”  

It comes as no surprise, but Chisaki responds by scrunching up his nose.  

“Go away,” he sighs. “I don’t have time for stupid little kids.”  

He barely even spares you a glance before burying his nose in the book he’s been reading. You’ve come to discover that he is nine years old, seven years older than you, but that being said, he’s still a kid himself. You find it funny that he’s acting as if he’s a full-grown adult, when in fact, you’ve lived for longer than he has.  

But for all his hasty reprimands and how eager he is to get rid of you, still you remain undeterred. You’ve decided that you want to change his life for the better. To ensure that he won’t become a villain and go on to hurt countless people—including a helpless little girl.  

So, you plop down next to him, still smiling brightly, then unwrap the sandwich one of the caregivers handed you earlier. Admittedly, it doesn’t smell great, and it’s warm, for some reason, but considering how much of a dump this place is, you know it’s the best you’re going to get.  

You bite into your sandwich and make a face. “This tastes a little funny.”  

“Stupid kid,” Chisaki mutters, shuffling away from you. “The meat is probably on the verge of spoiling. You’re going to get sick, and then you’re going to get me sick. Ugh.”  

There’s not really much you can do about your limited dining options here, and you just hope that you won’t end up with food poisoning.  

“The beginner’s guide to human anatomy,” you mumble, reciting the title of the book Chisaki has in hand. This seems to catch his attention, and he stops reading to peer over at you with arched brows. 

“You know how to read?” he blinks. “But you’re only two.”  

Oh. Right. I’m supposed to be a toddler.  

Up until now, everyone at the orphanage just assumed you were flipping through books for the hell of it, but you’ve nearly just given yourself away. 

“I’m smart for my age,” you decide upon, making sure not to oversell it. “Does that book have nice pictures to look at?” 

Chisaki shrugs. “I guess. Mostly just diagrams and stuff. Nothing a little brat like you would understand.” 

He’s challenging you, or at the very least mocking you, and even though you shouldn’t let his words get under your skin, you suddenly feel the need to prove yourself.  

“I bet I’ll be able to understand,” you insist, then snatch the book right out of his fingers.  

“Give that back,” he grimaces. “You’re so annoying. This is why I hate kids.”  

Once again—he’s also a kid, although you certainly wouldn’t know it at first glance, based on his pretentious attitude and the complicated books he’s already reading.  

You trace your finger over one of the pages. “The aorta is the largest artery of the body, and it carries blood from the heart to the rest of the circulatory system. Blood first leaves the aortic valve, then it travels through the aorta, allowing other major arteries to deliver oxygen-rich blood to the brain, muscles, and various other cells.” 

By the time you’re finished, Chisaki’s jaw is hanging open. 

Crap. You probably could’ve afforded to hold back a bit.  

“Told you I’m smart for my age,” you say, then gently place the book back in his hands. Well, it must come as a shock to him, since you appear as a toddler, but you’re actually a teenager mentally speaking. Being able to read is hardly that impressive. What’s actually impressive is that he’s reading complicated stuff like this, despite only being nine years old.  

But you decide to savor your little victory nonetheless.  

“Huh,” is all Chisaki can think to respond. He studies you for a few moments, lips coming together in a thin line. It’s clear that he doesn’t quite know what to make of you, but perhaps that’s for the better. It means that he’ll develop an interest in you and want to keep you close, right?  

Hardly five seconds later, he shoos you away.  

“Leave,” he demands. “Your sandwich stinks. Stop hanging near me.”  

It seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you. And there really must have been something wrong with that sandwich, because later that same day, you end up vomiting onto the carpet.  

Chisaki makes no attempt to hide his disgust.

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you first met Chisaki, but progress is slow. And when you say slow, you mean horribly and inconceivably slow.  

You knew as much while following the plot of My Hero Academia, but damn, Chisaki really isn’t fond of other people.  

“Go away,” he sneers.  

“You’re annoying and dirty,” he remarks on another occasion. 

Sometimes—if you’re lucky—he’ll spend more than five seconds talking to you, but it’s usually only when he’s stringing together a more complicated insult.  

“I want you to leave me alone, and if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to tie you to a tree outside and leave you there.” 

 Since he’s only nine years old and has yet to hurt a soul, you aren’t terribly intimidated. Plus, there are way too many eyewitnesses at the orphanage for him to get away with such a thing. 

“Pfft,” you brush off. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”  

He does, in fact, tie you to a tree—and on more than one occasion.  

Oh, well. You assumed going into this that it wouldn’t be an easy endeavor. Chisaki clearly hasn’t yet understood that, like it or not, you’re here to stay.  

It’s a day like any other, and you’re in the midst of recovering from yet another spoiled-food-induced tummy ache, when out of nowhere, Chisaki decides to walk out of the orphanage. Sometimes kids play outside. That is, after all, where he tied you to all of those trees.  

But Chisaki isn’t one for playing games to begin with, and today, he seems to have made up his mind about something.  

He leaves the orphanage without looking back.  

Naturally, you follow him, as fast as your tiny legs will allow you to. It will take a while for the caregivers to realize you’ve both gone missing. Negligent supervision seems to be the recurring trend around here. Really, it’s a miracle that the rest of the kids are even still alive.

“Where are you going?” you ask, stumbling to keep up with him. Goddammit. This tiny body of yours is so frustrating. You’re used to being in full control of your limbs, and being able to walk faster than what feels like a solid ten meters per hour. 

Chisaki doesn’t so much as glance at you. “That place is filthy,” he mutters. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. Not that it matters anyways. Everywhere is the same. Wherever I go, people will just keep disappointing me.”  

You realize that you don’t know much about Chisaki’s backstory. All you know is that at some point in his childhood, he was taken in by a kind-hearted yakuza man, but apart from that, the details are left rather vague.  

Where are his parents? How long ago did they abandon him? Just how many years has he spent on his own, without knowing what it feels like to be loved and cared for?  

He probably won’t tell you even if you ask, but your heart aches for him regardless.  

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him. Perhaps it sounds like you’re just talking out of your ass, and you doubt it helps to reassure him much, but he spares a glance at you anyways.  

He presses his lips together. “You’re just a little kid. Go back to that stinky place. It’s better than sticking with me. I can’t take care of you.”  

“We can take care of each other,” you offer.  

Chisaki shakes his head in dismay, but surprisingly, he’s not telling you to leave, so you muster up a smile and follow him. Follow him where exactly, you have no clue, but you’ve already made up your mind to stay with him, no matter what happens.  

And then, for the first time, you find yourself intertwined with the story’s plot.  

“What are you children doing all the way out here?”  

The voice catches you off-guard, but when you tilt your head to get a better look at who just spoke, your eyes go wider than ever.  

Ah. I know him.  

Of course you do. After all, he’s largely the reason that Chisaki goes on to commit so many crimes. It’s not just his hatred of Quirks and rejection of the so-called ‘Hero Syndrome’, but also because he feels as though he needs to repay the man who took him in, and bring the yakuza back to their former glory.  

This man is Chisaki’s adoptive father, and the boss of the Shie Hassaikai, who is affectionally referred to as Pops. 

Droplets of rain fall upon your cherubic cheeks and roll down your skin. The sky has been looking rather gray and murky for a while, so you’re not surprised that it’s steadily turning into a downpour.  

Pops stares at the both of you and frowns. “It isn’t safe to be out here all alone. Where are your parents? Did you get separated from them?”  

“We don’t have parents,” you blurt out. “We don’t... we don’t have anyone.”  

Instead of responding, Chisaki just nods his head somberly. He’s not a talkative sort to begin with, but right now, it looks like he’s lost for words. You doubt he’s expecting anything. He clearly hasn’t led a particularly happy life until now, and it shows.  

But when Pops pulls out his umbrella and uses it to shelter both of you from the rain, Chisaki’s golden eyes widen ever-so-slightly.

“I see,” Pops hums. He pauses, a slow, gentle smile stretching across his lips. “And what are your names, if you don’t mind me asking?”  

You respond without wasting a beat. “I’m [Name]! And this is my friend—”  

“I’m not your friend.” Chisaki lets out a weary sigh, but when he peers up at Pops, he suddenly looks sheepish, as if he can tell that he’s a man worth respecting. “I’m... Chisaki. Chisaki Kai.”  

Pops seems amused, and despite the rain soaking into his kimono, he holds the umbrella in place, so that neither of you will get wet.  

“Well, then,” he says. “If you’ve got nowhere to go... then how about coming with me?”  

It’s happening. The moment you watched unfold in the anime is actually happening, right before your very eyes.  

The only difference is that, this time, Chisaki isn’t alone.  

You will be with him every step of the way, to guide him towards a brighter future.  

“...okay,” Chisaki says. His voice is hesitant, definitely more uncertain than you’re used to it being, but you can tell that right here and now, he’s decided to give Pops a chance.  

He will be grateful towards this man for the rest of his life, that much you know for a fact.

You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you first met Chisaki, but progress is slow. And when you say slow, you mean horribly and inconceivably slow.  

You knew as much while following the plot of My Hero Academia, but damn, Chisaki really isn’t fond of other people.  

“Go away,” he sneers.  

“You’re annoying and dirty,” he remarks on another occasion. 

Sometimes—if you’re lucky—he’ll spend more than five seconds talking to you, but it’s usually only when he’s stringing together a more complicated insult.  

“I want you to leave me alone, and if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to tie you to a tree outside and leave you there.” 

 Since he’s only nine years old and has yet to hurt a soul, you aren’t terribly intimidated. Plus, there are way too many eyewitnesses at the orphanage for him to get away with such a thing. 

“Pfft,” you brush off. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”  

He does, in fact, tie you to a tree—and on more than one occasion.  

Oh, well. You assumed going into this that it wouldn’t be an easy endeavor. Chisaki clearly hasn’t yet understood that, like it or not, you’re here to stay.  

It’s a day like any other, and you’re in the midst of recovering from yet another spoiled-food-induced tummy ache, when out of nowhere, Chisaki decides to walk out of the orphanage. Sometimes kids play outside. That is, after all, where he tied you to all of those trees.  

But Chisaki isn’t one for playing games to begin with, and today, he seems to have made up his mind about something.  

He leaves the orphanage without looking back.  

Naturally, you follow him, as fast as your tiny legs will allow you to. It will take a while for the caregivers to realize you’ve both gone missing. Negligent supervision seems to be the recurring trend around here. Really, it’s a miracle that the rest of the kids are even still alive.

“Where are you going?” you ask, stumbling to keep up with him. Goddammit. This tiny body of yours is so frustrating. You’re used to being in full control of your limbs, and being able to walk faster than what feels like a solid ten meters per hour. 

Chisaki doesn’t so much as glance at you. “That place is filthy,” he mutters. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. Not that it matters anyways. Everywhere is the same. Wherever I go, people will just keep disappointing me.”  

You realize that you don’t know much about Chisaki’s backstory. All you know is that at some point in his childhood, he was taken in by a kind-hearted yakuza man, but apart from that, the details are left rather vague.  

Where are his parents? How long ago did they abandon him? Just how many years has he spent on his own, without knowing what it feels like to be loved and cared for?  

He probably won’t tell you even if you ask, but your heart aches for him regardless.  

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him. Perhaps it sounds like you’re just talking out of your ass, and you doubt it helps to reassure him much, but he spares a glance at you anyways.  

He presses his lips together. “You’re just a little kid. Go back to that stinky place. It’s better than sticking with me. I can’t take care of you.”  

“We can take care of each other,” you offer.  

Chisaki shakes his head in dismay, but surprisingly, he’s not telling you to leave, so you muster up a smile and follow him. Follow him where exactly, you have no clue, but you’ve already made up your mind to stay with him, no matter what happens.  

And then, for the first time, you find yourself intertwined with the story’s plot.  

“What are you children doing all the way out here?”  

The voice catches you off-guard, but when you tilt your head to get a better look at who just spoke, your eyes go wider than ever.  

Ah. I know him.  

Of course you do. After all, he’s largely the reason that Chisaki goes on to commit so many crimes. It’s not just his hatred of Quirks and rejection of the so-called ‘Hero Syndrome’, but also because he feels as though he needs to repay the man who took him in, and bring the yakuza back to their former glory.  

This man is Chisaki’s adoptive father, and the boss of the Shie Hassaikai, who is affectionally referred to as Pops. 

Droplets of rain fall upon your cherubic cheeks and roll down your skin. The sky has been looking rather gray and murky for a while, so you’re not surprised that it’s steadily turning into a downpour.  

Pops stares at the both of you and frowns. “It isn’t safe to be out here all alone. Where are your parents? Did you get separated from them?”  

“We don’t have parents,” you blurt out. “We don’t... we don’t have anyone.”  

Instead of responding, Chisaki just nods his head somberly. He’s not a talkative sort to begin with, but right now, it looks like he’s lost for words. You doubt he’s expecting anything. He clearly hasn’t led a particularly happy life until now, and it shows.  

But when Pops pulls out his umbrella and uses it to shelter both of you from the rain, Chisaki’s golden eyes widen ever-so-slightly.

“I see,” Pops hums. He pauses, a slow, gentle smile stretching across his lips. “And what are your names, if you don’t mind me asking?”  

You respond without wasting a beat. “I’m [Name]! And this is my friend—”  

“I’m not your friend.” Chisaki lets out a weary sigh, but when he peers up at Pops, he suddenly looks sheepish, as if he can tell that he’s a man worth respecting. “I’m... Chisaki. Chisaki Kai.”  

Pops seems amused, and despite the rain soaking into his kimono, he holds the umbrella in place, so that neither of you will get wet.  

“Well, then,” he says. “If you’ve got nowhere to go... then how about coming with me?”  

It’s happening. The moment you watched unfold in the anime is actually happening, right before your very eyes.  

The only difference is that, this time, Chisaki isn’t alone.  

You will be with him every step of the way, to guide him towards a brighter future.  

“...okay,” Chisaki says. His voice is hesitant, definitely more uncertain than you’re used to it being, but you can tell that right here and now, he’s decided to give Pops a chance.  

He will be grateful towards this man for the rest of his life, that much you know for a fact.

[wannabepapa]

I see you’ve been reboggling a lot of old asks from me which has also gotten my brain juice flowin like

Lately I’ve been thinking about roommates who bond over a pregnancy. A one night stand or a surrogacy, doesn’t really matter, all we care about are the roomies who are now stuck in this fun situation of finding a new groove. Bonus points if the pregnant one gets big and uncomfy quick, leading to far far more late night rendezvouses.

The way I picture it, it starts with your typical incredibly awkward “I gotta come clean about something” scenario, with roomie B expecting a broken appliance or a forgetting power bill, but certainly not a pregnancy! Then as roomie A grows, they get needy, which sends roomie B into overdrive. Late night pizza runs become a regular occurrence, waking up way too early to hold their roommates hair, sitting up at night cause roomie A thinks they felt a kick and wants witnesses.

Then break happens, they go home, and when roomie A comes back they’re HUGE, which changes everything. Suddenly they need so much more to be comfy, and roomie B begins to realize just how much they like being there for their pal. They spend all afternoon at school just to come home and both collapse into the same twin bed, using the other bedroom as storage because who needs it? Sharing is caring after all. Roomie B is there to hold roomie A when they’re sobbing at a ghibli film or some advertisement about sad animals, they’re there to help with anything academic or physical, they’re driving their expectant buddy to and from appointments now that they’ve outgrown the drivers seat.

Bajshxjhshxhs it is 5 am and this ask is ridiculously long winded but I am tired and sappy and obsessed with this idea and thought you’d like it okie bye

uh hello???????? you have left this beauty of an ask in my inbox?????? Marin i am kissing your forehead right now.

roommate B has had nothing but terrible experiences with past roommates so when A comes to confess something they brace themselves for a problem. it's expected, especially when A looks anxious and worried before spilling the secret. the last thing that B would have ever expected was to be living with someone who was going to have a baby. they don't hate babies but they never hung out with people who had children of their own. it was going to be a learning curve to say the least.

the roommates were never close in the beginning, keeping to themselves as they had only recently roomed together but now they find themselves in each other's space. A has asked for help in the morning because the nausea makes it tough to function early in the morning so B is on kitchen duty. B tends to do a lot of the clean up now to give their roomie a break in the first trimester. it's only fair that someone does the bulk of the housework when A is creating a whole person over the course of nine months!

B is also in this weird "I'm not the parent of this child but I feel responsible for A and this child" state of mind that is confusing to them. they don't know why their brain has latched onto being the caretaker for a pregnant person but whatever A asks for, they get. A is feeling cold and wants to borrow a blanket? it's put in the dryer so it's extra warm. it's two am and they have an intense craving for pizza, but only the pizza at this shop that is an hour away? yeah just let B get dressed and get coffee in them before they take the drive. they don't want to be sitting alone at their doctor's appointment and want moral support? of course B will be driving them to and from every appointment now so they don't have to be alone. A meekly knocks on the bedroom door and says the baby needs a cuddle? get in under the covers and pick a movie! it's this perfectly platonic relationship that both just don't acknowledge but now all of their family and friends wonder if they're dating.

when they have to go home for their respective holidays there are definitely tears shed by A. it's seventy-five percent hormones and twenty-five percent not wanting to be away from B for weeks on end. they're ending their second trimester right now and terribly needy. the roomies have forgone sticking to each other's rooms to alternating every few days—it's become their routine. A also worries that something catastrophic will happen and B will force them to move out which B shuts down immediately. they're stuck with each other now whether they liked it or not. this comfortable thing the roomies have with each other is too precious to B for it to ever cross their mind to end it. A has become more than a friend, they've become a companion that has made their days more exciting ever since they got close. it isn't long after A is dropped off at the airport (with more tears shed) and B not even out of the parking structure that a text is sent that reads "we already miss you :c"

they talk every day of the break. A leaves no details of the crazy antics sprinkle (the baby has a thing for funfetti cake and B said they were probably a sprinkle now so it stuck) has been up to and complaining how cold it was where their family lives. they've sent many a selfie where they were hidden under piles of blankets or bundled up in multiple layers of warm clothes with a pouty lip and silly quip about how nobody does the dryer trick here like B does. it's too cute for B to handle. the weeks drag on for eternity to their dismay, their mind straying to how their gravid friend was doing.

to make matters worse A was stuck for an extra week due to a surprise blizzard that grounded all planes going in and out of the state. that was nearly a month apart and it drove B mad. too much time has been spent away from A and there was going to be hell to pay if this new flight would be canceled. if they were stuck any longer with their parents A wouldn't be cleared to fly, leaving them with no other choice but driving hours back down. B would have gone up there themselves to bring A back if it was necessary but to their happiness there were no cancelations and A was in route back home. B couldn't pick them up—work had switched schedules without asking—so they sent a friend to go to the airport for pick up. luckily A would already be home by the time B was off work so they wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

B never considered how fast someone grew in their final months of pregnancy. A's clothes still hide the bump before they left. now, walking into the apartment, B could do nothing except stare at their roommate. A hadn't grown, but popped in the last month since they were apart! there was an undeniable swell that tented A's shirt, their stance wider as they waddled to the door to greet B with a watery grin. the bump is pressed between them which makes it impossible to really hug while making it hard for B to not plaster their hands on the belly. the baby takes the opportune moment to shift between them as they were clearly unhappy about being squished. A chuckles at the movement but B is completely losing it.

after that they don't really stay apart for long. they're very, very close to one another at every second of the day just to revel in the fact that the baby will be born soon. A likes to complain about the pains from the movements of the nugget but they will actually miss it. B, however, has made it loud and clear how they'll miss being able to cuddle up with the belly and feel the nugget move. though both are equally excited to meet the little kicker that they've been waiting nearly ten months to hold.

[elizmanderson]

2024 wrap-up, part 1

part two | part three | part four

[ABBA voice] here we go again, my my—

anyway, now that I've put that song in your head, let's look back at my year

writing

book stuff

as you may know, my second book, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits, releases in March 2025! so I spent much of this year editing, then editing some more, then line editing, then copy editing, then going over pass pages, then over more pass pages... the process never ends (until it's too late to make changes)

(artist: Xuan Loc Xuan)

if you find any typos in the final book come March, instead of being annoyed about them, you should recognize their determination and give them an award for MVT (most valuable typo) and a kiss on their lil typewritten forehead. because they made it not only through my own fifty six thousand rereads, but also through my agent, my editor, my copy editor, and my proofreader, and I think almost every single one of those people went through the book at least twice

anyway, The Keeper of Lonely Spirits is a cozy fantasy about an old man cursed with immortality who hunts ghosts rather than making mortal friends who will die one day. when the residents of an Ohio town beset by a vengeful spirit adopt him as their own, he must decide: leave to protect his heart, or stay to save their lives?

link to StoryGraph listing

link to signed preorders through my local indie

link to unsigned preorders through the publisher

I also received my first ever trade reviews, one of which was a starred review from Library Journal! trade reviews can convince booksellers and libraries to purchase the book, especially if positive, especially if starred. they look good on a book's resume

read the reviews here:

link to Library Journal review

link to Publishers Weekly review

short stories

because I was so busy with novel stuff, I only wrote one short story this year. part of one short story. back at the start of January.

you know what happened? I let it sit for a few days for reasons I no longer remember, and when I came back I couldn't remember quite where I was going with it a l a s

anyway it's a queer Cinderella-inspired short, and I'd love to magically figure out a direction for it afresh so I can finish it in 2025

in-progress stuff

...we still won't talk about how revising last year's cozy mystery is going, but in my defense (a) I've been on deadline for other things and (b) just nine chapters in I had already strayed so far from my scene list that I had to rethink the whole book, whoops

mostly, I've been working on the second book that this publisher bought, which has resulted in a very terrible first draft full of so many footnotes and brackets that I would almost call it a zero draft, except I can't bring myself to use that term*

(*for myself. y'all use it as much as you like, if you like it)

literally it was 79,000 words, 6,000 words of which were footnotes-to-self so as not to ruin my fancy WIP aesthetic (Blackadder and Perpetua ftw) with comments

anyway, then there was a marginally less terrible second draft, which is what my editor got (a respectable 98,000 words with zero footnotes and almost zero brackets)

THEN I was supposed to take a break and not think about the book again until my editor read it and got back to me...but instead I immediately wrote a brand new synopsis, sent it to her like "seriously you don't even have to read the version I already sent you bc it's gonna look so different," and then a couple weeks later whoops turned around started rewriting the whole story

which isn't going great bc I really DO need a break, I can TELL I need a break, but unfortunately when it comes to writing my brain is like "NO BREAK. ONLY WRITE >:[" which is Not Good. but I am trying to let myself casually poke at it instead of going hard and getting it done fast enough to send to my editor before she can even read the version she has lolol, so that's something

no-context spoilers for this WIP:

(tried finding the original post but could not, so screenshot from the internet it is)

that's it for part one! part two to follow is here! link to part two

[miametropolis]

My condolences for the containment breach I get how having thousands of ppl say the same joke over and over in the notes of your genuine analysis post can get annoying 😭 😭😭😭 I’m extremely down to hear more about the differences between the ninth and tenth doctors if you have any other insights you want to share though!!! I’ve been turning your post over and over in my brain like a rotisserie chicken ever since I read it it’s so good

omg thank you for your condolences...it really is the containment breach of all time...let me think!! I have a MAJOR tenth doctor video essay I may or may not make so here are the cliff notes:

-To begin. Anne Carson wrote that to live beyond the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

-in many ways, the 10th Doctor is cursed from his inception b/c he is born at the end of the Doctor and Rose's romantic arc (from a certain point of view) AND YET he is born sheerly out of love for her / to love her

-(we all know the fanon--or is it canon?--idea that Ten's face was subconciously selected to be one that Rose would like, and he's gone for her from the beginning...hello, The Christmas Invasion.)

-all that said, by the time The Parting of the Ways occurs, Rose and Nine have completed a full narrative arc:

-Nine whisked Rose away from the life of boredom and sheltered drudgery she experienced on the estate; she brought life back into the eyes of a hardened war veteran/The Last of the Time Lords

-more importantly, they complete a kind of mutualistic ultimate sacrifice (in a Shakesperian sense?) wherein Rose 'becomes' the Doctor by absorbing the literal heart of the TARDIS (we don't have time to get into that) and erasing the Daleks into dust, finishing the last of the Time War AND saving the Doctor's life

-he immediately returns the favor, absorbing the energy that's destroying her with a kiss (let it be known--the ONLY kiss between the Doctor and Rose Tyler proper--neither Tentoo or Cassandra really count imo), returning her to humanity, life, and safety

-all that said, Nine dies both saving AND being saved by Rose in a kind of unrivaled (?) parity between Doctor and companion. it's perfect synthesis.

-THEN 10 is born. uh-oh.

It is here that I would like to quote Michael Kinnucan's fabulous essay 'The Gods Show Up' on Greek tragedies:

The tragic hero is complete. You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) even before he is dead. For an instant he is something like divine. And then he dies, because there’s nothing left to do. The center of every tragedy is the image of a human being who has already died but keeps talking, someone whose face is a mask.

I think one of the most fascinating 10 v. 9 moments is that one scene that got cut where Rose says "I miss him." and the Doctor replies "Me too."

As many people in the notes of that original post point out (god help me) 10 is ALSO born IMMEDIATELY into heartbreak--whatever vestigal version of Nine lives inside him died with the despair of losing Rose

-TEN is the man that went sauntering away. perhaps that's part of why Ten is so terrified of/resentful towards regeneration. I think he's lived precisely the worst cost of it.

-The notion of 'talking after death' and 'wearing a face that's a mask' is a existentialist take on regeneration itself--ten EPITOMIZES this tragic hero archetype, esp. after Doomsday (literally! Doomsday!!)

-during his life, I wonder if Nine already considers himself lost in a sense? He's lived past the Time War, past the destruction of everything, and he's also the first NuWho Doctor. HIS ability to indulge in love (even in mortality, given his short lifespan) is different.

-TEN on the other hand has that INCREDIBLY frightening (for him) confrontation with Sarah Jane in School Reunion--knitting him back into canon continuum of Doctor Who, stitching him to the myth of The Doctor that has to live on and on and on in perpetuity--and seems VERY haunted by (im)mortality

-How much time does Ten spend running from Jack? A human being who CAN follow him to the end of time? Ten can't decide if he wants to be mortal or immortal, human or Time Lord. Think of the way he acts with Martha, with Wilf, with Donna. He is totally frozen inside of the space of his seasons. He has time paralysis (fatal, for a Time Lord)

-he is the first doctor that we see reallllly try to stave off regeneration

-That's why there's a certain frantic escapism to his adventures with Rose in S2--he knows, more than she does, that they are hurtling toward's disaster.

-he can't love Rose in a consumate way, even if he wanted to (he wants to) b/c he's trapped inside of his myth. he's like sisyphus. or that guy getting his liver ripped out by the eagle. Nine and Rose are lines that can cross. Ten and Rose are parallel lines. if they touch, the universe dissolves. hence why the narrative/God/Russel T. Davies had to lock her away in another universe

anways!

Ten once canonically carved a statue of Rose by hand with every inch of her body absolutely perfect, from memory, and I think that's crazy

[namism]

parts of me | nami

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral reader

➳ word count: 1.4k

➳ notes: my two nami fics so far are kinda sad so the next one will be happy I PROMISE

➳ cross-posted on ao3

When the Sunny is quiet as the sun sets in the horizon, with the aroma of herbs and tangerines coming from Sanji's kitchen and the faint tune of Brook's violin entering the women's quarters, Nami remembers the day she met you and the day you left.

Her thoughts oddly jump from point A to point B, a silly thing she's guilty of, but it's a thing that she can't stop doing because she makes up for the sad thought of your departure with the happy thought of your arrival into her life.

Looking out the window, her eyes follow the movement of the waves. They crash onto each other in a rhythmic motion, an effective hypnosis for her brain to shut down and work in slow motion. Nami calls this tendency of longing a "thing" rather than a "habit" because she denies that it is one. To her, "habit" suggests that she thinks of you all the time, which technically is the truth, but she can't let herself admit that just yet.

Suddenly, Robin calls from the doorway of the quarters, her mature voice as composed as always. "Nami. Sanji called you for a taste test."

Nami spins on her feet, taking her mind off the hypnosis, which only makes her dizzy. "Huh?"

Robin shuffles into the room and approaches her vanity, where she grabs a book that she left open a few hours ago after being called into Franky's workspace to lend a hand. She walks to the loveseat in the far corner of the quarters, and sits cross-legged as she reads where she left off.

"Sanji wants you to taste his tangerine dish." She giggles softly, her eyes creasing upon remembering Sanji's heart-shaped gaze.

"Ah, no wonder why it smelled like tangerines here." Nami diverts her gaze from Robin to the mini cartography table on her side of the room. She sees the unfinished map she drew of Sabaody Archipelago three days ago.

"(Y/N). I'm Shakky's neighbor, and sometimes her slave," you introduced yourself in a joking manner. Shakky, the 62-year-old woman who you grew up with the past nine years, threw an unused cigarette at your head.

"Don't lie to the guests, kid," she said.

Nami hummed in amusement. "I'm Nami. I came here with my crew."

Robin flips a page of her book.

"You seem upset, Nami. Can I help you?"

"Huh? No," Nami mumbles to herself. "I have something to do."

As the girl leaves the quarters, Robin assumes that she's on her way to taste Sanji's new dish that's awaiting her in the kitchen. Although not knowing Nami as she thought she did, she failed to catch the look on her face when she examined the half-drawn map on her table.

Nami walks out into the deck and looks toward south, where Sabaody and Fishman Island are. She sighs. To live with the feeling of longing is one thing (like when she longed for Bellemere's tangerines or when she longed to be with her crew when they were separated two years ago), but to live with this feeling that you can't admit is another.

"Thank you for helping us," Nami sent her thanks as you pulled her down into your wooden boat.

After a rocky encounter with a Celestial Dragon, you managed to get Nami and yourself to safety, while the other members of her pirate crew, the Straw Hats, as they called themselves, ran in different directions, with some of them running farther into Grove 17 of Sabaody Archipelago. Nami sat on the other edge of the boat as you paddled the vessel away from the Grove and to Shakky's bar.

"Don't mention it," you told her.

It took two days for Nami to reunite with half of the crew. By then, the Straw Hats scurried off into the other Groves to get down to business as the Marines arrived at the archipelago. You insisted on tagging along.

As Nami takes another step farther into the deck, the smell of Sanji's tangerine dish becomes stronger from the kitchen. She appreciates this as a form of distraction from her thoughts. When Sanji comes out in an apron and a mini pastry platter, she is even more relieved.

"Nami-swaaan, please try this dish!" he begs. "Please? Pleaseee?"

Nami grabs a cupcake from the platter and takes a bite as she looks into the distance. Tangerine-flavored. Of course, she thinks, but the flavor isn't too strong or too subtle. Sanji did a great job in integrating the tangerines adequately.

"It's delicious," she tells him. "Thank you, Sanji-kun."

Sanji grins to himself, delighted that he received a compliment from Nami out of all people. While he swoons, Nami notices a particular pastry on the platter that catches her attention.

"Is that—?" she cuts herself off to observe a little longer. "Oh, Sanji-kun, is that me?"

She points at a sugar cookie of a woman who looks exactly like her: orange hair, brown eyes, a smile, and a tight shirt and shorts... except that there is something else to it.

"I'm glad you noticed!" Sanji beams, happy for the second time this day. "I made a cookie for Robin-chwan as well!"

Nami appreciates the gesture. She wants to laugh at it, but Sanji might get the wrong idea, so she saves the reaction for later when she gets the time to think about it again.

She grabs the cookie from the plate and inspects it. It's a pretty piece of art (and a piece of herself, one can say) that she almost doesn't want to ruin, and instead just keep it in a glass box to be displayed in a museum.

She traces her finger over the hardened frosting, the orange color that was used in her hair leaving a barely noticeable stain on her finger.

Then she finally reacts. She lets out a small giggle that doesn't give Sanji the wrong idea. He still, however, asks why she's so bubbly all of a sudden.

"You're amazing," you told Nami in awe as she navigated through the Grove with an outmoded map. "I see it now. You're going to be the world's best navigator under the Pirate King's arm once you map out the whole world."

Nami's face flushed in a way that she couldn't hide. Eventually, she didn't bother hiding her face any longer as she boldly stared you down like it didn't affect her at all.

"And you're going to be the world's best boat pilot."

You laughed at her joke.

Nami clutches the ends of her hair and twirls the strands with her finger, thinking to herself deeply as Sanji waits for an answer.

"This might sound weird," you started, "but you're beautiful."

Nami narrowed her eyes at you. She had heard that compliment a hundred times in the past.

"I reckon that you hear that a lot." You chuckled. "Trust me, I'm not saying this to take advantage of you."

"What is it, then?" she asked.

"Rarely anyone here has orange hair. I find it beautiful that it's your natural beauty."

She didn't reply. Instead, she kept walking through the Grove as you followed.

"You'll forget this eventually. I know you will, but don't cut your hair, ever. It's a cute part of yourself," you told her.

"I just love it," she explains. She traces the ends of the hair that lie just above her shoulders, a depiction of her eighteen-year-old self two years ago. "Thank you, Sanji-kun."

Nami realizes that there is no way of escaping you as the past moments you shared together resurface in her brain in every second and every minute of the day. She wonders if she could ever escape a habit like this when she'll be surrounded by nothing but water for another week as they travel to a new island, somewhere far from Sabaody and devoid of your presence—and it doesn't help her case that old habits die hard.

Sanji goes back to the kitchen to finish cooking the rest of the crew's lunch, leaving Nami to her own devices on the deck. She takes small bites of the cookie, saving her head for last, while losing herself to the rhythmic motion of the ocean waves yet again, hypnotizing her mind to think about you, and only you, like a habit that will never die.

[artsy-hobbitses]

heyyyy are you doing ok? Been a while since we heard from you. If you are, hope you are living ur best life.

Ayyooo! You’re sweet for checking in on me ;u;b

I’m actually quite well! I’m working on my last two commissions for this batch, but ALSO what’s actually been eating at my brain for the past couple of days is that News Homie came up to me like “Heyyyy do you wanna join a Pokemon RP Group with me as an admin where you can ✨worldbuild✨?” and I sort went bonkers.

Nine pages of worldbuilding including states, districts, customs and lore kind of bonkers.

I will be back here on your regularly schedule programming soon once I get the heavy duty worldbuilding out of the way!

But in the meantime, please enjoy Meirion ‘Mirage’ Rodric having the time of his life as my chosen character for this endeavor :’3

[nsokolow]

Transformers One: Charoite

Chapter Sixteen

Megatron’s holographic image projected from the little device.

“Charoite!” Megatron grinned. The determination in his eyes put Charoite off even more. “I see you have a medal!”

She was a surprised he brought it up. She forgot she was even wearing it. “Oh! Yeah!” She held it up. “Second place in Maccadam’s Race! Out of twenty-nine other bots. Jazz was first.”

Megatron smirked. “Yeah? His luck finally turned around, I guess. Then again, you’re probably getting all the attention.”

“Ha! That’s what the live transmission tried to make happen. I’m ‘back from the dead’ to Iacon.”

Megatron chortled. “Anyway, you have anything to share now? I know it hasn’t been long, but we’ve all been looking forward to any updates you might have.”

Charoite kept her expression as neutral as possible. “I…uh…there’s…”

Starscream, not as clearly, appeared in the hologram behind Megatron. “Well, come on! What do you know? I helped you get back to Iacon, so you at least owe me!”

Charoite frowned at him. “Well, I don’t think you’ll like hearing this, but there really aren’t a lot of secrets the Autobots could keep. They haven’t been around that long.”

All traces of enthusiasm disappeared from Megatron’s face. His red eyes flashed as his look hardened. “I seriously doubt that. Us Decepticons have been around just as long, and we have plenty of attacks plans and weaknesses the Autobots don’t know about. I haven’t even shared some of these things with Starscream, Shockwave, or Soundwave!”

In a panicked rush, Charoite wracked her brain module to find an answer. “I…uh…well…like you said, it hasn’t been that long. I haven’t even spent a night here yet. I did actually get some decorations for my room!”

Megatron sighed. “I guess I was rushing you a bit. Good of you to buy decorations. If you look like you’re planning to stay in the long run, they’ll be even more fooled. If somehow you can’t find any secrets, at least tell me about any plans they have—that is, where they’ll be and at what time. They, most importantly, Optimus, will hopefully be vulnerable for an attack at some point, and then I can take my rightful place as ruler of Cybertron.

“I’ll make sure to keep you updated—wait. That’s your goal? To rule Cybertron?”

Megatron’s apparent confusion embarrassed Charoite, but she was mostly worried.

“Uh…yeah. I thought it was clear.” Megatron frowned as his eyes shifted.

Charoite looked down and grabbed her arm. “Well, I mean, you talked about Optimus getting the Matrix and throwing you out of Iacon, but—”

Charoite jumped at the sudden, albeit soft knocks on the door.

Megatron’s eyes widened before he bent down and shut off the call.

“Come in!” Charoite asked. She hoped she didn’t sound scared.

A silver and light pink bot, the sides of her head large and round, opened the door and took a few steps in. “Hi! Just wanted to finally meet THE Charoite! I’m Arcee. I’m in the room next door!” Arcee extended her hand.

After hearing what Megatron told her, this femme’s friendliness towards her made her even more anxious about a future where Megatron ruled Cybertron. Were kind, nonjudgmental bots like her, B, Optimus, and maybe deep down Elita going to keep having good lives? It was great the Decepticons wanted a planet without deceitful leaders, but was that even all that would happen if they took control of Cybertron? Their aggressiveness, their ill-will toward their enemies…Megatron having ripped Sentinel in half in front of—”

“Are you okay?”

Charoite jolted out of her train of thought. She probably looked ridiculous, all silent and frozen when all this bot did was introduce herself.

“Oh, hi!” Charoite shook her hand. “Great to meet you, Arcee!”

“Wow…” Arcee chuckled softly, “…I can’t believe it’s really you, and you’re in the room next to mine! When Elita told me about it, she almost seemed sympathetic, but I told her I couldn’t wait to meet you! Congrats on the race, by the way!”

“Oh, uh, thanks!” Charoite slipped the medal off. “I mean, Jazz should really be getting more attention, since he’s the one that won, but I’m happy I won. It’s funny…B said he could fly, but he actually turns into a car. I guess it’s because his doors look like wings when he’s not transformed. Anyhow, I had to sneak my name onto the roster! It was fun!”

“No way! By the way…” Arcee lowered her voice, “…I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I just have to know, what was it like being with Sentinel? I mean, before we all found out he was evil.”

Charoite resisted the urge to tell her it actually was kind of insensitive. “It was…good, mostly. He was gorgeous, and really doted on me. He called me ‘Char,’ and I called him, ‘Sen.’” She started to feel good about opening up to another femme about this. Maybe it was a good thing Arcee asked! “He reeeeally wanted to keep it a secret until if and when we would decide to become sparkmates. It was annoying. He was also kind of controlling.”

Arcee’s face dropped. “Oh. I can see that.”

“He did take really good care of me, though. I also really loved the kisses and cuddles.”

Arcee giggled. “I bet! Such a shame he did all those awful things, though. You holding up okay?”

Charoite nodded. “I’m feeling a lot better than before, that’s for sure. I still have some adjusting to do. I mean, I went to the surface and came back to society being so different.”

“I know, right? I can’t imagine! Anyhow, I’ve gotta head out. Going to a former miner support group. Later! Great to meet THE Charoite!” Arcee waved and headed for the elevator.

Charoite’s worry about Megatron’s statement returned.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Sixteen.

First update of the week is here again! Big thanks for all your engagement, my lovely little audience :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

Words - 3,448

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

New relationships. For the most part, the new voyage with a brand-new person is taken upon a calm sea of getting to know one another, hanging out, having fun, and a copious amount of sex. Occasionally, though, the sea gets a little choppy.  

Especially when said new relationship involves living together right off the bat.  

Even more so when person A has been recovering from a hellish life, and person B has been tiptoeing around them because of this, perhaps taking a little more in the way of selfishness than he should have.  

Lee already had a tension headache that morning. Hearing Emma and Guero going at one another with the kind of decibels that made her brain feel like it was rattling in her skull didn’t help. She’d be lying if she’d stated that she hadn’t been wondering when this might all blow up, from the little observances she’d noted between the two.  

“You know, if things ever go south with me and Bish, I’m fuckin’ marrying you,” she spoke, a look of bliss on her face, Angel standing behind her squeezing the tension from her neck. It was always the cause of her headaches. That and she refused to wear her glasses as much as she should.  

“What, just for my massage skills? ‘Cuz if you think my hands feel great on your neck...” Looking down, she saw them hovering above her boobs, Lee nudging him with a soft elbow.  

“Quit it!”  

He laughed returning them to her neck, both of them distracted as the clubhouse door flew open, the small hurricane of a very pissed off Emma flying out, Guero following. 

“Em! Get the fuck back here!” 

“No way, not after what you just said!”  

“Damn,” Angel winced, “she’s getting sassy.” 

“Yeah, she’s pushing back,” she observed, sipping her coffee. “Now that she actually can.”  

“How’d you mean?” 

Lee circled her neck a little, a few clicks sounding. “She had nineteen years of never being able to fuckin’ argue against anything. Don Lombardi said jump, she asked how high. Now she knows she’s not gonna cop a beating or a hot knife against her, she’s learning to speak up. 

“I think she’s pretty fuckin’ sparky by nature, but it’s been supressed for a long fuckin’ time and poor Guero, he ain’t used to it. He’s gotten used to this sweet, meek woman who didn’t disagree with nothing, you know? To be fair, though, he’s also let her get away with it, wanting her own way now she realises she can, and him suddenly not letting her ain’t fuckin’ sitting well with Emma, being told no.” 

Angel marvelled at how, as usual, Lee truly was the all-seeing eye of the MC family, her assessment making a lot of sense to him, even if he hadn’t really noticed any details beyond the fact the young couple had been yelling at one another for the last twenty minutes. “They should just go bang it out, man. Always works for me.” 

Lee leaned back, viewing him upside down with a raised eyebrow. “And when was the last time you had a healthy relationship from those avoidance tactics, hmm?” 

He thought for a few moments, moving his hands to the base of her skull. “Hmm.”  

“Exactly,” she grinned, winking.  

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I guess me and women don’t exactly go hand in hand like that.” 

“Nope, because you only ever keep ‘em at arm's length. Or dick’s length, never really let ‘em in, do you?”  

He had no comeback for that, the truth of his lack of confidence in relationships presented to him, tugging a tiny piece of her hair before he continued his pinching. “Whatever it is, I kinda hope they’re done soon. It's too early for all this loud bitching.”  

“And if we agree on one fuckin’ thing, Reyes elder, it’s that!” she sighed, the shouting from across the yard not showing any signs of abating just yet. At least one good thing had come from it, she guessed. Emma now realised that anger wasn’t the ultimate precursor to anything bad happening, she didn’t recoil from a raised voice and tremble in fright. Quite the opposite, in fact.  

Expressing angry emotions instead of bottling things up was healthy, but perhaps in that moment they both needed to walk away and calm down, Guero finally doing that, storming back into the clubhouse while Emma tore a path back to the workshop with heat in her heels, her jaw set.  

“The absolute fucking nerve of him!” she muttered, picking up a spanner, beginning her work again. 

“Hey, no rage while you’re working with brake cables,” Lee instructed, pointing across the shop at her.  

“I can’t help it! Jesus fucking Christ, he’s got me so damned mad!” 

“While you’re in my workshop, yeah you fuckin’ can. I’m technically your boss, so I can tell you what to do, and you can either like it or leave, Emma. If I say no rage, then you gotta calm your fuckin’ shit down before you work on brakes. We clear?”  

She chewed the inside of her cheek with annoyance, placing the spanner down and sighing, counting to ten. “Yeah, yeah, we are. Sorry.”  

“Good.” Lee watched her carefully, taking a few moments to cool off, sipping at her cherry Coke while she calmed down, moving back to the huge Harley and continuing with her task of fitting the new brake cables. She left it about ten minutes before speaking again. “Alrighty, now boss Lee is done, friend Lee is here. Whassup with you guys? You wanna talk about it, chat it out, spill all?”  

“Lots of little things,” she began, her nostrils flaring as she took off her gloves, leaning on the handlebars of the bike before her. “It’s all compounded and he’s basically calling me selfish for always wanting my own way, but I’m not! He isn’t being fair!”  

A few more details were revealed, the main bone of her contention being that he refused to travel nearly two hours away to see a used car she liked the look of, his refusal not being met by anything close to grace. Most of her other gripes were of a similar pattern, which if Emma took ten seconds to breathe over rather than losing her cool, she’d see she was being a little unreasonable about. Lee knew why she was struggling with that, though.  

In truth, this was her first real relationship with someone, and even though a fully grown woman at twenty-nine, her expectations were quite childish. She expected her own way because Guero had so far let her have it, and maybe that was his fault, setting a standard that wasn’t realistic. Emma experiencing this sudden hostility was likely triggering of her past, though, never being able to have her own voice, being dictated to as well.  

It wasn’t really her fault; she simply didn’t know how to handle conflict, how to compromise, since she’d never experienced give and take. Likely, she thought that compromise meant she was being ordered around again, when that simply wasn’t the case. It really didn’t help that Guero too only had two modes, calm and easy, or flying off the handle. He was just like his dad in that respect; there was no in between. Either way, Lee knew she had to handle her reply very carefully.  

“Okay, I’m not saying all, but a lot of this is boiling down to you not liking hearing the word no, because it reminds you of a time when that was all you did hear. I also get it that you want to ask for things, now that you actually can. You deserve ‘em, sunshine! Ain’t nobody who does more than you after all you fuckin’ went through, but there’s a but here.” 

“And that is?” she asked, Lee pulling her cigarettes out and lighting up. 

“You gotta see you can’t expect everything to go your way. Guero is entitled to have his own opinions and if they don’t mesh with yours, you can’t fuckin’ blow up and demand of him. He isn’t Rocco, babe. Yeah, he can be bad tempered, but he ain’t trying to clip your wings, hold you down, bend you to his will, which is the way I think you’re taking it.” 

“Let’s use the car thing as an example. Him not wanting to take you all the way up to Anaheim to see a used car you’ve found, a near two-hour journey each way isn’t him being an asshole. I mean, you haven’t even fuckin’ got your learners permit yet! There’re stacks of cars closer to home for sale, too. That’s where you have to meet him halfway and compromise. It’s his time off, he doesn’t wanna spend nearly four hours of it on a fuckin’ motorcycle again when he could be just chilling out, enjoying his time with you in any number of other ways. C'mon, surely you can see that?” 

It wasn’t the reply she’d been expecting, but if Emma was brutally honest with herself, it was the one she needed to hear. Lee’s usual calm pragmatism, delivered in her no-nonsense, yet gentle fashion put a hole in her armour, one she needed to actually let in a little bit of sense. Butting heads with Guero, especially how fiery he was when pissed off, had done nothing but make her build a further wall.  

Emma realised she was being overly defensive and thus his perfectly reasonable refusal to let her have her own way wasn’t being met by any fairness from her, because it wasn’t getting through. She cringed internally at herself as the realisation of it smacked her.  

As if reading her thoughts, Lee continued. “I’ll add here too that you’re not solely in the wrong. Guero and his crazy little temper should know that yelling at you isn’t gonna solve shit. You’ve had too much yelling, but he struggles hanging onto his fire. He needs to dial it back, though.” 

The uncomfortableness began to subside, Emma realising it was time to put on her big girl pants. “I’m being a bit of a princess, aren’t I?” 

“Yup!”  

Moving out from behind the bike, she looked over to the clubhouse. “Think I might need to go apologise for my part.” 

Lee nodded. “Humble pie don’t taste too good, huh, sugar?”  

“Pretty damned bitter, buddy.” Lee threw her head back, pushing a soft fist against her shoulder, Emma walking over to the clubhouse. Angel and Bottles were outside, both looking at her with slight scepticism.  

“Is this about to be round two? Cuz’ my ears can’t take it,” the former asked, Emma shaking her head.  

“Nope, off to extend my apologies. Sorry to you guys, too, having to bear witness to our drama.” 

The men shared a sharp head turn in one another’s direction. “Yo, he gotta woman who says she’s sorry? Damn. Where’d I find myself one of those?” Angel announced, Bottles laughing as Emma crouched next to where they were loitering on the steps. 

She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “You might have one right here if he tells me to go fuck myself.” 

Angel snorted, reaching to pat her arm a few times. “He ain’t gonna do that, shut up. If he does, though...” He winked at her with a click of his tongue, Emma laughing, kissing his forehead. She really liked Angel. For all his wise assed bravado, he was actually one of the least threatening of the guys, one she gelled with more than others. Him, Gilly and Bottles were her people, she’d found in the six months she’d been in their lives for at that point.  

“Just kick him in the nuts if he starts yelling again, babe,” the latter spoke, Emma shaking her head and standing. 

“That isn’t conducive to calming things down.” 

Bottles sniffed, turning his head back to grin at her. “No, but it’d make me laugh.” His words made a little bit of the tension she carried melt, turning back to the doors and taking a deep breath before letting herself in.  

“I swear to fucking god, if you’re here to scream at me some more,” Guero began, turning from where he was sat at the bar with Bishop and EZ.  

“Can we talk?” 

He raised his eyebrows. “I can, but you just wanna fucking embarrass the living hell out of me with your yelling, so if it’s more of that, then no.” The two men he was sitting with slowly slinked away, not wanting to be right in the way of things if they blew up for a second time, Emma waiting until they’d retreated.  

“I’m sorry,” she began, reaching to stroke his forearms. The muscles stiffened on contact. “I’ve realised I was being a princess about things and not being reasonable. I need to compromise more, I see that now. I’m sorry I yelled at you, too. I love you, let’s get past it.”  

“Mm,” he hummed, rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth, his jaw flexing. “And you need to stop looking at me and seeing that dick who took your life away. I know that’s what you’re doing, and it offends the fuck outta me.” As it would, she thought, since her boyfriend was the very antithesis of Rocco in the way he treated her. “Alright. We’re good.” 

He looked and sounded the furthest thing from it. “No, we’re not. It’s written all over your face, how mad you are at me.” 

He shrugged with nonchalance. “Maybe that’s for you to deal with.”  

Oh, he wasn’t budging. When her man held a grudge, he truly did hang onto it with both hands and every single one of his teeth.  

She rolled her eyes, turning away. “Mother fucking Mary, you’re so stubborn.”  

Rather than fight against it because she didn’t like it, she decided to leave him to it. He’d calm down in his own time, she figured. Being an adult and accepting that was part of the process of being in a relationship was all she could do. She’d apologised, now it was up to him to either take it on board or need further time to simmer down a little more.  

Until then, she had bikes to work on, and outlaws to keep her entertained, especially later that afternoon when she stopped for a break and a cold beer. Angel, Bottles and Downer were her source of relief while she sat studying a Harley Davidson manual, familiarising herself with the set up. 

It was while she was reading about the engine configuration that Angel broke her concentration with his request. “You’re fuckin’, you’re... hey yo, Emma! Gimme a fancy word for rude.” 

“Impertinent,” she offered, Downer snorting. 

“Ain’t that when a dude can’t get his dick up?” 

Oh, he was walking right into it. “No, buddy. That’s impotent.” 

“Yeah, he’s that, too,” Bottles offered, his face alight with mischief. 

Angel laughed hard, swigging his beer. “Ain’t got shit to say to that, huh dog?” 

“You wouldn’t be nothin’ without your lil’ blonde dictionary over there! Bitch ass probably didn’t even finish high school!” 

“Fuck you, man. I finished!”  

“I didn’t, though. Didn’t even go, you know, with the whole kidnapped thing.” All three stared at her in disbelief. 

“Then how come you’re so well spoken?” Bottles asked, Emma shrugging. 

“I read books. Lots of them.” Just then, she felt a body slide behind hers, two familiar tattooed arms draping around her.  

“You know what one of those is, right Angel? Primitive version of Netflix.” After his amusing comment – with Angel not so amused by his sarcasm - Guero then leaned in close to her, tightening his arms and kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry for being a bad-tempered ass, wasn’t all just you, baby.”  

Her hands clutched onto his forearms, stroking them as she turned to offer a kiss. “I appreciate that.” Her smile warmed him where he'd been feeling frosty, knowing that for his part, he needed to actually accept when someone was sorry instead of holding onto his grudge; even if that holding had only been for a couple of hours.   

As for Emma, she recognised it as an important part of her leading a normal life, not letting her past influence her present. It would be easier said than done, she supposed, not to let it happen, not to immediately think that every objection Guero made was an attempt at control. At least now thanks to Lee’s advice, she could see when she was doing it.  

Later that night, they spoke about it, Emma lying at one end of the bathtub, him at the other.  

“See I kinda think you’re still pissed at me, giving me the tap end of the tub,” he commented, Emma raising an eyebrow. 

“Excuse me, who decided to encroach on who’s bath time?”  

She had him there, Guero biting his lip as he pulled a face that made her giggle. “Yeah, alright.” Grabbing one of her feet, he began to rub them for her, a gesture appreciated since she’d been on them all day, running around the yard. “I meant what I said about you seeing me in the same light as that slimy fuck from your past, though. We can disagree without you immediately thinking I’m behaving like him. I get that it’s hard for you, but yeah. Try not to go there, alright?”  

“I will. Promise I will, honey,” she vouched. “I have a lot of shit to process, I guess. You’ve been so patient with me, too. I don’t blame you for getting pissed off.”  

He shrugged. “I ain’t perfect either, and I say I get it, that you have shit to process, but I guess I never really will truly understand it, what you have to deal with. I’m not pretending I will either, but yeah. I’ll try not to lose my shit and be so bad tempered with you while you do. Speaking of that, I gotta say it! You’re nearly as fucking explosive as I am. It’d be a turn on if it wasn’t directed at me.” He went to bite her toes, Emma snatching her foot away with a squeal. “I gotta new type, apparently. Sparky blondes. Sparky blondes whose feet I’m gonna bite.” 

“No!” she squeaked, Guero going for the other foot. 

“Yeah? Stop me.”  

Half the water in the tub was lost to the pursuit of bitten toes, Emma scream laughing, wrapping her legs around him eventually to prevent his onslaught, giving him a defiant look. “Now what are you going to do, hmm?”  

He looked her up and down, eyebrows fluttering suggestively. “You.” He leaned to kiss her, his body covering hers, more of the water sloshing out onto the floor. “Today started bad, let’s end it better, huh?”  

It ended a lot better, that was for certain. Even though the bathroom floor resembled that of a swimming pool once they were done.  

Later that night, as Guero slept at her side – and quietly for once – Emma lay back and played the day over in her head. While medication had eased her anxiety and worked to relieve her of the nightmares that had plagued her, there was much more work she needed to do on herself. While physically, she was far from Staten Island, mentally she was still there in how she was handling conflict.  

Turning to her side, she could just about make out her love from the light filtering through the tiny cracks in the blinds, both too busy enjoying one another some more once they’d made it out of the bathtub to bother closing them properly. He was her safe person, the one who’d literally found her, and the one who’d made her realise he was different to all she knew. She owed it to him to believe that, believe him.  

Speaking of Staten Island, while she and Guero slept, not two miles from their location a call came in from a resident of that very New York City borough.  

“Ezekiel, Rocco Lombardi.”  

Standing up, EZ walked from the clubhouse out into the quiet of the yard to take the call, the cooler night air wisping gently against his face, listening as he continued. “So, it’s been almost a year since our arrangement commenced, and things are running well. I’d like to propose a meet with you and your VP again, discuss something extra I intend to move along with our current consignment.” 

There it was. The other shoe Bishop had warned him about – and the same one Emma had spoken of months before - had finally dropped.  

[goingsparebutwithprecision]

Five Ships In Five Fandoms

Thanking @tallangrycockatiel for the tag!

Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Teen Wolf

What can I say about them that hasn't been said a thousand times before by people more eloquent than I. A classic. The ultimate comfort ship.

Cyrano/Roxane/Christian, Cyrano De Bergerac

Cannot overstate the hold these three have on my heart! One of the most excruciating canon endings of all time. I can think about them endlessly. Just rotating them forever in my mind. The Cyrano/Christian kiss from the National Theatre 2022 production lives rent free in my brain. If I loved them less I might be able to talk about them more etc etc.

Lord Peter Wimsey/Harriet Vane, the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries

One of the slowest burns of all time. Starts with absolute clownery, the tragedy in the absurd of asking a woman on trial for the murder of her previous lover to marry you, continues with the spikiest most resentful discoveries of drift compatibility, the get-together comprises an entire book's worth of meditations on gratitude (the hatefulness thereof), inequality of gender class and intellect, whether intellectual honesty is more important than romantic loyalty (and/or one's continued ability to feed oneself), musical metaphors for relationship dynamics (anybody may have the harmony if they leave us the counterpoint!!!!!), and of course the massive continuity of ducks.

Cliopher Mdang/Fitzroy Angursell, Nine Worlds

OK actually maybe i take it back, strongest contender for slowest burn of all time??? In that these fuckers have been dancing around each other for something close to 1000 years (not a joke not an exaggeration time is fucky here). Although tbf. Tbqf&h. To be brutally Frank and Esme. I'm not sure I count those 1000 years in that we (the readers) were not actually there to witness that. But still. Where do I even start with these two.

That feeling when you've been installed as a puppet-god-king against your will for over a hundred years unable to choose your food or drink, experience sunlight, or touch another person (because if you do they will literally and immediately immolate because of magic curses) and although this would be cruel to do to anyone it is particularly cruel to do to you, nameless child and infamous anarchist poet revolutionary whose work shook the empire to its very foundations, and then you are finally sent a competent secretary who proceeds to steal your empire out from under you, dismantle it completely, institute universal basic income, universal housing, universal education, fix the post office, provide you with ships that fly?!?!, audit all of your government offices until every single speck of corruption is gone, end a world war and prevent there from every being another one, and all the while is humming your most treasonous song cycle under his breath for fully a thousand years. Oh and then he also journeys into myth and legend, through sky ocean to the house of the sun, essentially to barter fire from the gods, because he thinks he's not good enough for you.

Also such a wonderful nuanced portrayal of an ace/queerplatonic/this relationship-is-what-we-decide-it-is-but-the-most-important-thing-is-that-you're-it-for-me relationship. It's very queer. They're working it out as they go. It will break your heart and heal your heart. I cannot even.

Thara Celehar/Iana Pel-Thenhior, Cemeteries of Amalo

Another they are taking it so so slowly and I am all about it. There's a theme here somewhere I just know it. Sad wet cat detective man with life-destroying trauma talks to dead people, stray cats and this one guy who writes riot-causing opera and very gently invites him to dinner occasionally and helps him solve murder cases. We are two books in and they've only just a) held hands once and b) started using informal you to refer to each other. It's exquisite, I'm in hell.

No pressure tagging @ereborne @july-19th-club @morkaischosen @trans-cuchulainn and anyone else who's interested :)