#seriously these boys had everyone tripping over themselves

[wherethemothsgrow]

Gansey 🤝 Kevin Day

Having hella chemistry with everyone in the series

[arjwrites]

Back On the Beach- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Reader and the Winchesters find themselves at the beach for a rare day off after a long string of difficult hunts. Something about the special day changes things forever. Warnings: Some language and angst but nothing crazy. A/N: Nothing heals my heart more than a happy Dean Winchester. Hope you enjoy <3 Another hunt was in the books. That was the third one this week- you'd lost track beyond that. You and the Winchesters had definitely been “cranking and ganking,” as Dean had been calling it, but you all were exhausted to say the least. No rest for the wicked, though. When you arrived back at the motel after taking out the vamp nest, it seemed like Sam had already found another hunt, and all of you prepped to ship out in the morning.  

You woke after a near restless night, your entire body weighed down by a lack of sleep. Getting up and into the shower felt like moving through Jell-O, so you couldn’t even imagine how Sam and Dean felt. Even more so Dean, who had blamed himself for one of the casualties of last night’s hunt. Before climbing into your bed the night before, you had given him a tight hug. “We can’t save everyone,” you reminded him with a gentle whisper. But you still heard him pacing the whole night- he didn’t so much as sit, let alone lay down and close his eyes. So you were up all night, partially from worry and partially because of the noise he was making. And if you had been kept up, you knew Sam had been too. That’s why you were surprised to hear some particularly chipper laughter and discussion between the two boys as you emerged from the shower. 

“Y/N! Bobby took over that case I found last night. He was in the area, so I guess we have a day off. I was thinking we could just take the time to get some rest, but Jimmy Buffet over here wants to hit the beach,” laughed Sam, hucking a packed bag into Dean’s chest. Dean caught it with a huff before holding it out to one side in order to show off his ensemble. 

“Hey, when in Margaritaville, right? How often do we get a case somewhere like this, huh? Let’s live a little.” 

Dean was decked out in Hawaiian patterned swim trunks clearly purchased from the tourist shop down the street, complete with a towel around his neck and a pair of gas station sunglasses. He was right, how often were you taking cases in Florida (seriously, enough freaky shit goes on there, yet somehow none of it is supernatural)? Your first instinct was to laugh, because he looked ridiculous, but simultaneously, your heart soared. To see Dean getting excited about something so mundane as a little beach trip was a small miracle. Things hadn’t been easy on the road recently, and it seemed like Dean had taken the brunt of it- the guilt, the sleepless nights, the long, long hours. It always hurt you to see the way he took it all, never giving himself any kindness or time to relax. So for you, it was an easy choice to humor him a little. And after a bit of convincing Sam (okay, maybe you and Dean begging and annoying the crap out of him), you got him on board too. 

 After remedial stops at the tourist shop for swimsuits for you and Sam, and the gas station for beer, sunglasses, and the sunscreen you insisted on (“Dean Winchester I have seen you take on some scary shit, so help me God, skin cancer will not be the thing that takes you out”), your crew finally found their way down to the water. And from the moment you stepped foot in the sand, the gentle crash of the waves washed the worries from your minds. It was rare day when you three could be normal. Normal people at the beach, with no monsters to kill, no world to save, no burdens weighing you down. 

It had been a picture perfect beach day. Seriously, Dean made sure you all got the full experience. He had picked up beach chairs and towels and a football for him and Sam to toss back and forth. You sat reclined in one of the chairs, reading a book (a non-lore book, you couldn’t remember the last time you read for pleasure) and watching over the boys, laughing at their interactions. After zoning into your story for a while, you lost track of the boys. Figuring they had gone exploring down the beach, you let yourself fall entirely engrossed in the cheesy romance you were reading. They didn’t call them beach reads for nothing! The protagonist was finally alone with the love interest, who was about to lean in for a kiss, until- the book went flying out of your hand, and you went flying over Dean’s shoulder. 

“HEY! Put me down!” Your words seemed frustrated, but your tone was anything but.

Dean raced down to the ocean as you bounced rhythmically off of his strong back. You playfully whacked at him in protest, but it was no use. Finally deep enough into the water, Dean gracefully slid you into his arms and tossed you under. After catching your bearings and emerging from the surf, you surveyed the scene. There was Sam, laughing his ass off. Dean held a smug look, arms crossed and a teasing smile. And you, now soaking wet, caught completely by surprise.

“I will KILL you Dean Winchester!” You ran after him, laughing and splashing. While you had chased down plenty of adversaries recently, there was something about this enemy that was compelling- pretty cute, even. 

That was the rest of your afternoon. Playing in the surf, munching on soggy gas station sandwiches, sharing a few beers, and your constant nagging at the boys to reapply sunscreen. Though none of you ever spoke it aloud, there was a shared agreeance that this was so nice. That it was a luxury to feel normal and that in that moment, you three were the luckiest in the world. And it was so fulfilling to sneak a glance at Dean and see him smiling, really smiling. You let your gaze linger, snapping a mental image and filing it away to remember for when things got tough again. You wished you could give him this peace more often.

The sun was setting on your perfect day, but the three of you remained on the beach, stalling the oncoming nightfall and thus, the return to your reality. After a serene while, Sam rose from his chair, wrapping a towel around himself and throwing you and Dean a knowing look.

“Alright, I’m going to head back to the motel and start packing our stuff. You guys stay down here a little longer.”

So there the two of you sat, side by side, leaned back in the chairs, toes dipping into the still-warm sand. You weren’t sure if the subtle pink of Dean’s cheeks was the beginnings of a sunburn or the effects of the day’s alcohol drawing the blood to his face. Warm, tipsy, sunkissed, happy. This was a Dean you wish you could get used to. 

“Thanks for taking us here today, Dean. It was a really great idea.” A soft smile graced your face as you reached your hand out, resting it on top of his own. 

Your voice drew Dean’s gaze over to you, and the look on his face triggered a pang of hurt in your chest. Though his lips were drawn in a tight smile, his eyes slightly watered and held in them all of the angst of the last few years. It was as if you could see each harrowing memory in their glassy reflection.

“What if we just stayed?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer. His question hung in the air for a moment without a repsonse. You couldn’t stay, you both knew that. There were always going to be people to save and things to hunt. Still, you deserved some peace every now and then. And that was all you wanted to give Dean in this moment- some peace. You wove your fingers into his and pulled him to his feet, meeting him with an embrace. He wrapped his arms around you and continued.

“Obviously we can’t. But, what if we did. You, me, Sammy. We could do this every day. I mean, we’d have to get jobs, but even that would feel like a day at the beach compared to… everything else. We’d be so happy,” he sighed.

“We’re hunters, Dean. We’ve gotta make our own happy.” 

“You make me happy.”

That was all you ever asked for. Dean Winchester, in your arms, happy- and because of you, no less. In that moment, you decided that this would be your own personal slice of heaven. A moment you could return to as often as you wanted- something that could never be taken from you. A perfect instance that could remain untouched by the horrors of your world. Everything in this difficult life had lead up to this moment, and every day from here on out you would exist in a world in which you made Dean happy. 

With the kind of sweetness that brought tears to your eyes, Dean brought his hand to your cheek, cupped it gently as if it were the most precious thing in the world, and joined his lips with yours. They fit in the way you always knew they would, and the touch sparked the feeling you had always imagined it would. It wasn’t nerves or butterflies. It was so incredibly tranquil. Kissing Dean, finally kissing Dean, felt like bathing your troubles away in the ocean. The hurt, blood, sweat, and tears pooled off of you, and you felt clean, new, at peace. You knew that this wouldn’t fix everything, for either of you. Both of you had your demons, and you’d both be facing plenty more. But from this point on, you could return to this moment- return to each other, and feel your worries wash away. You could come back to the beach for a short while, and things would be okay. You could make your own happy, together.

[bouncybongfairy]

Simon Says

Ghost!Keegan!Soap x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: After coming back from the bar and continuing the last mission's success at the safe house. Price comes out, complaining about the noise, so you guys move it to your room. A foul game of Simon Says takes place.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Group Smut & Facial, Male Receiving Head, Rough Smut.

Not Proof Read

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was late and Ghost, Soap, Keegan and yourself were hanging out in the living room of the safe house. The current mission you were working on just wrapped up and everyone was celebrating with drinks and laughter; a rare sight within task force 141. Everyone else had gone to bed after coming home from the bar. They had their fill of fun but you guys were just getting started. Pouring shots of cheap vodka and smoking while listening to music. Price came out, complaining about the smell and noise, moving to your room to avoid any more confrontations. You were nervous to have all three of them in your room. They were looking around at all your stuff, posters, stuffed animals, and of course the stereo. You connected your phone and started playing BabyMetal, Keegan picked up a picture from your desk.

“Is this you?” he asked, holding a picture of you in freshman year of college. It was you and a good friend, you grew up in Jersey which meant Snooki pretty much was your fashion icon all of college. 

“Is that a joint?” Ghost asked, laughing at your duck lips and hair extensions.

“Yeah it was quite the era. Look, I was crying because my sister and I got into a huge fight over who’s turn it was for the Juicy Couture bag. You can see where my spray tan ran down my neck” you laugh reminiscing on simpler times.  

Ghost was sitting on your office chair, legs spread and leaning over to reach the cigarette you were sharing. Keegan and Soap were lounge on your bed; you were curled up on a beanie bag. You couldn’t remember who suggested it but you guys started playing drinking games. Things like fuck the dealer and flip cup. You were getting pretty tipsy, giggling randomly and your body warming up. The boys were having a conversation among themselves while you lined up the shot glasses and grabbed the bottle. 

“Are you sure you can handle another drink?” Soap asked.

“Are you asking me or yourself?” you asked, handing the liquor out. 

After some more small talk, you excused yourself to change. Normally your pajamas are pretty revealing so you wear a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. Long socks because it was always freezing in your room. Once you started getting dressed you noticed how drunk you actually were. Tripping slightly while trying to get your shorts on Coming out and watching as all their eyes fall onto you. Clearly looking you up and down, at first you wanted to be like ‘oh my god don’t look at me like that’ but also you did so… why lie? You sat back on the bean bag as Keegan began to speak. 

“We should play another game,” he said. 

“What about Simon Says?” Ghost says. 

“Isn’t that your name?” you drunkenly giggle. 

“Yeah, so just know when I say something you have to take it seriously,” he said.

After that comment that vibe in the room felt different after that. All of them went from sitting back and lounging to sitting forwards. Soap and Ghost were sitting on the bed, Keegan was on the office chair. You beanbag was on the floor so they were all looking down on you.

“Simon says: sit on my lap,” he says, leaning back slightly like he was making room. All their breathing became harder, you rolled your eyes at the reaction. 

“What is this middle school? Out of all the things you could have asked?” you laugh, walking over and sitting on his thighs without hesitation. Making the point that it wasn’t a very daunting task. 

“Okay hot shot, Simon says: to read smut out loud,” Soap said, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t read-'' you started but was interrupted. 

“Yes you do,”  they all said in unison, “you need to invest in a privacy screen,” Keegan said, you could tell all three of them were smirking under their masks. 

“Fine.” you grab your phone and look through your tumblr. 

If they wanted to show, you were going to go full out. Finding a Captain America smut about hooking up in the barracks. It was obvious that they were wanting you to be flustered and flushed but it was doing the opposite. They were blushing and squirming around like there was no way to get comfortable. As you continued to read, Simon was getting hard. This was throwing you off your game a bit, now beginning to stumble over your words. Ghost noticed this and leaned back in his chair more, allowing him to press his member against your ass. 

You started rocking your hips every now and then. Enjoying hearing his almost silent groans and growls. His hands were starting to wander, running up and down your thighs. You looked over at the other guys and they were practically drooling. Looking at you like a can of beer they waited all day to crack open. Soap got up first and Keegan followed, your heart began to race. He slowly approached you and cupped your face in his hands. Rubbing your cheeks with his calloused thumbs. Keegan was on the side of him, brushing the hair out of your face. 

“Such a pretty little thing right?” Soap asked Keegan. This made you shiver, goosebumps prickled along your skin. Your phone dropping to the floor, Ghost kicked it away. 

“Fuck yeah, just begging to be ruined,” he said, grabbing your shirt and pulling it off your body. Leaving your chest completely exposed. Keegan reached down and pinched one of your nipples, pulling and twisting. You gasp and try leaning back but Ghost isn't letting you go anywhere. 

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” Ghost asked, grabbing your elbows. 

Soap grabbed the other and Ghost held you in place as they groped and played with your chest. The more you squirmed the harder Ghost became, pre-cum starting to bleed through his pants. Your face was flushed and sweat was beading on your forehead. Keegan used his other hand and parted your lips with his thumb. Eventually pushing it into your mouth; pressing your tongue down and feeling around your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thumb looking up and shifting your eyes between the two of them. Pulling his thumb out and spreading your saliva all over your lips. Ghost stood you up slightly so he could free his dick that was straining against his pants. Pulling your shorts to the side and lining you up with his tip; grabbing your hips guiding you down on his member. He groaned and let his chin fall on top of your head. Your eyes rolled back and a loud gasp fell from your lips. Moaning and panting while you got used to how big he was. 

“Why do you get her?” Keegan asked. 

“Use her mouth i’m fucking busy,” he growled, trying his best not to buck into you. 

The fact that he was talking about you like an objection shouldn’t have made your stomach flip the way it did. Soap and Keegan pulled their dicks out and began stroking themselves. Looking down, admiring your body, you started bouncing. The wet squelching sounds every time you sink down on his length. Your eyebrows furrowed and mouth hanging open, not caring about the droll falling from your bottom lip. Keegan grabbed two fistfuls of your hair and brought your lips to his cock. Taking his tip into your mouth and flicking your tongue on his head. He moaned and started pushing himself further into your mouth. Soap rested his length on your cheek, insinuating he wanted in on the fun. You grabbed his shaft and started jerking him off. Ghost was getting less gentle with you, starting to pound into you with more aggression. His nails were digging into the skin on your hip, tightening around him when his head kissed your cervix. Whimpering around Keegan cock, spit and pre-cum running down your torso. In so much pleasure, you were neglecting Soap. Especially as you began cumming around his cock, your walls pulsating around his member as you nearly screamed in pleasure. 

“Fuck dude, my turn,” Soap said, pushing Keegan to where he was just standing.  

After being touched-starved for so long, he showed no mercy on your throat. Fucking into your mouth at an animalistic pace. Causing you to gag around his length, mascara stained tears running down your face. Keegan was enjoying the sight, watching your bounce on Ghost while having your throat obliterated. Like a personal porn star made just for them. Ghost was getting close to his orgasm, trying hard to hold himself back. Biting onto your shoulder, to muffle the sounds and delay his climax. Soap came early, cum was spilling out the sides of your mouth, only adding to the wet fucking noise that already filled the room. Ghost began cumming, shooting thick ropes deep into your stomach. Holding you down as hard as he could, rocking your hips as you milked him. Keegan came on your face, cumming on one of your lashes. Forcing you to keep it closed, which hummored the two of them. You lean back against Ghost’s chest, practically dead from how fucked out you were. You don't remember much the next morning, but thought it was nice of them to clean you up and tuck you into bed. The walk of shame to the bathroom while having a hangover and cum dripping down your thigh wasn’t how you wanted to start your morning but oh well.             

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: this has been sitting waiting to be posted for a minute, but I've been in mama mode looking after my dog after being spayed, and I also don't know when you'll get the next chapter. it may not be before the new year, so if that's the case, I hope everyone enjoys their holiday month and I wish nothing but the best for everyone's 2025 <3 thank you for allowing me to express myself on here and giving me one hell of a 2024 xx

CW/TW: mentions of violence, discrimination, human trafficking, child abuse -- none are graphic or described in real time, but they are mentioned -- character death, medical episode, implication of ptsd

Tags: @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup @trentybenty @pittieprincess22

@electronicwitchsandwich @thefairywithboots

(If you want to be tagged in any future Roman fics, just let me know!)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

March 15th, 2014.

The salon buzzed with a low hum of hair dryers, quiet laughter, and the faint clicking of coffee cups and saucers. Warm afternoon sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting golden glows across the room, while the occasional breeze from the open door stirred the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus. Time slowed down here, as a haven away from the chaos of everyday life.

Which was why Irina Volkov loved it so much.

She sat in one of the cushioned chairs near the back, her dark hair wrapped in foils as she laughed lightly at something the stylist said. Looking impossibly elegant, even in this unassuming setting, her presence remained so utterly magnetic it turned heads without effort. 

Beside her, Nate sat, leaned back with an almost bored expression, her long legs crossed at the ankle and arms loosely folded. A magazine sat abandoned in her lap, its glossy pages ignored.

“Why don’t you pick something out?” Irina suggested, her soft accent curling around each word. “You could at least pretend to care about your hair.”

Nate gave a sidelong glance, one brow arching. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Irina smiled knowingly, a touch of jest in her visage. “Nothing. But we’re here, Nate, make the most of it.”

With a sigh, Nate flipped the magazine open, though she didn’t bother to read it. Irina turned her attention back to the stylist but only for a moment before shifting her focus back to her daughter.

“So,” she began, playfully yet probing. “Do you know what kind of man you’d like to be with one day?”

Nate nearly choked on air. She stared at her mother, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What? What kind of question is that?”

Irina laughed, tilting her head as though she’d been expecting the reaction. “It’s a simple question,” she said. “You’re nearly nineteen. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

“No,” Nate replied flatly, with a dry sarcasm. “I’ve been way too busy plotting world domination like Daddy.”

Irina clicked her tongue. “Don’t dodge the question, malyshka. You must have some idea. Strong? Handsome? Smart? All three, perhaps? Beard? Tattoos? Or clean and baby-faced?”

Nate groaned, slumping further in her seat. “Mum, I don’t care. Seriously. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than boys.”

Her mother’s lips curled into a small, mischievous smile. “Oh, I see… I should, perhaps, be asking about the opposite sex instead?”

Nate froze. The casual way Irina had asked the question caught her off guard, and for a minute, she didn’t know how to respond. Her cheeks flushed faintly, and she whipped her head toward her mother, horrified.

“What—why—what would even make you ask that?” she stammered, her words tripping over themselves in an uncharacteristic display of flustered panic.

Irina’s laughter was soft but genuine, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, darling, don’t look at me like that. I’m your mother. I know you better than anyone.”

“You don’t know that,” Nate muttered, her face heating further as she tried to bury herself deeper in the magazine. “God, you’re embarrassing.”

“Relax,” Irina said gently, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Nate’s face. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And you didn’t deny it, by the way.”

The younger Volkov let out a groan of pure frustration, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Irina’s smile softened, and just looked at her daughter—really looked at her, the way only a mother could. There was no judgement in her gaze, only quiet understanding and a hint of pride. She said nothing more on the subject, letting it fall away like it had never been brought up in the first place.

“You’re impossible, Mother,” Nate mumbled under her breath, but there was no real heat behind it.

“And don’t I know it,” Irina replied with an almost soft smugness.

They fell into an easy silence after that, the kind that came naturally between them. Irina shifted back in her seat, closing her eyes as the stylist continued working, while Nate returned to absently flipping through the magazine.

“What do you want for your birthday next month?” Irina asked after a while. “And don’t say ‘nothing.’”

Nate hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-page turn. Her lips pressed into a thin line as though debating whether to say what was on her mind.

“Well,” she began slowly, almost cautiously, “There is… one thing.”

Irina opened one eye, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Oh?”

Nate shifted in her seat, her earlier embarrassment melting into something closer to quiet longing. “I want to go back to the UK. To Cornwall. Surrey, too. Just… back home, you know? I miss it.”

Her mother’s expression softened, her gaze growing wistful. She reached out, resting a hand on Nate’s arm. “I know you do, malyshka. I miss it too.”

They both knew it wasn’t that simple. The move to Florida had been Dimitri’s decision, a strategic relocation to further cement his operations on US soil. Cornwall had been a lifetime ago—a quieter, simpler time before the weight of their family’s name had truly settled on Nate’s shoulders.

Nate shuffled again, fingers toying with the edge of the magazine. “You said you’d take me for my twenty-first,” she reminded her mother, her tone almost pleading.

“I did,” Irina nodded. “And I will. But twenty-one isn’t for another two years, Nate.”

“I know,” Nate said quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “But maybe… I don’t know. Maybe we could go for Christmas? Just for a little bit… Please?”

Irina sighed, caught between understanding her daughter’s needs and the resignation of returning where her husband had left off. “You know how your father is.”

“Yeah,” Nate muttered darkly. “That’s why I’m asking you and not him.”

Irina couldn’t help but smile at that. She squeezed Nate’s arm gently, her own reluctance giving way to the determination that always rose when it came to her children. “Okay,” she said finally.

Nate’s head shot up, her eyes widening. “Wait—really?”

Irina held up a finger. “On one condition.”

“I bloody knew it,” Nate grumbled. “What’s that, then?”

Leaning in slightly, Irina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you go to that sparring session with Becky and her dad next week. You know how much it means to your father that you go, Nate.”

Nate rolled her eyes, but for something as ideal as visiting the UK again, it was a little price to pay. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I really want to go.”

Irina grinned, a genuine warmth lighting up her face. “Deal.”

The stylist finished up, removing the last of the foils from Irina’s hair. As they prepared to leave, Irina rested a hand on Nate’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll start making plans,” she said quietly. 

Nate looked at her, a faint smile on her lips. For a fleeting moment, the world outside didn’t exist at all—there was no Dimitri, no looming expectations, no weight of the Volkov name. Just a mother and daughter, sharing a rare moment of connection in a world that rarely allowed it. 

“Thanks, Mum,” she said just above a whisper. Irina didn’t reply, but the look in her eyes said everything she couldn’t put into words.

Outside was a striking contrast to the warm, perfumed cocoon of the salon; the sun hung low, spraying the crowded Manhattan streets with jagged shadows. Dewy light gliding the mundane chaos of taxis honking, bicycles weaving through foot traffic, and street vendors shouting about their wares. Nate and Irina stood for a moment just beyond the threshold, the latter’s freshly polished appearance shimmering like a porcelain figure against the gritty urban tableau.

Irina smoothed her hair with a languid hand, a soft laugh still lingering on her lips from their final exchange with the stylists. “Should we?” she gestured in the direction of their favourite bookstore, Rizzoli on Broadway, a haven for both their literary indulgences and occasional splurges on coffee-table books they’d never actually read.

Nate tilted her head, pretending to deliberate. “Do we really need more books? My nightstand already looks like a collapsing Jenga tower.”

Irina raised an eyebrow, her expression half-playful, half-mocking. “As if that’s ever stopped us.”

They started walking, their steps in easy rhythm. Irina adjusted her purse, its leather strap cutting diagonally across her trim figure, while Nate shoved her hands into her jacket packers, adopting her usual careless touch. The city buzzed around them, a living, breathing entity—tumultuous and indifferent yet strangely comforting in its constancy.

“Your father is going to have a fit when he sees the credit card bill,” Irina remarked with a knowing smirk.

“Please,” Nate drawled. “He doesn’t even notice unless it’s a yacht or a Fabergé egg.”

Irina chuckled, but the laughter soon softened into silence, as though some unspoken entity had settled between them. Nate felt it first, her gaze flicking sideways to her mother, who stared ahead with a small, unreadable smile.

“What?” Nate asked.

Smile widening, Irina’s arm brushed against Nate’s as they walked. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” Irina replied indefinitely. “You’ve been a little… withdrawn lately.”

Nate snorted, her breath misting faintly in the crisp air. “When am I not withdrawn?”

“Fair point,” Irina conceded with a breathy laugh. “But this feels… different. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The sincerity in her mother’s tone caught her for a whirlwind. She glanced down at the sidewalk, her pace faltering for a moment. “I know,” she muttered.

Irina didn’t push it; she rarely did. And that was one of the things Nate loved most about her mother—her patience, her ability to wait out Nate’s silences without filling them with unnecessary noise. They crossed the street, narrowly avoiding a young man on a skateboard who nearly collided with them. Irina clutched Nate’s arm, almost giggling as they reached the curb.

“Do you think Dad likes me?” Nate asked abruptly, impulsively.

Irina blinked, startled, but quickly composed herself. “What kind of question is that? Of course he does.”

Nate shook her head, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Not really. He tolerates me because he has to. Let’s be honest—he wanted a son, and instead, he got… me.”

Sighing, Irina draped an arm around Nate’s shoulders, pulling her close as they walked. “Your father’s not the easiest man to understand. He’s complicated, stubborn—”

“Emotionally constipated,” Nate interjected dryly.

Despite herself, the older Volkov managed a laugh, the sound rippling through the sad overtone of the topic at hand. “Yes, that too. But he loves you, in his own way. He just… doesn’t know how to show it.”

They both knew this was only half true. Dimitri’s preference for a son wasn’t just a rumour or an unspoken suspicion—it was fact, revealed during a drunken argument years ago that had left both Nate and Irina reeling. But neither of them needed to revisit that wound today. Some truths were better left unspoken, their edges dulled by time and careful avoidance.

“I’m fine with it,” Nate shrugged off her mother’s arm. “Really. I don’t need his approval.”

Irina watched her daughter for a moment, her face softening. “You’re stronger than you think, you do realise that, right?”

Nate rolled her eyes, but the faintest hint of a smile betrayed her. “Don’t get sappy on me, Mum.”

They turned a corner, the street narrowing as brownstones replaced glass facades. The air felt cooler here, quieter, but still alive with the faint hum of the city. Nate glanced around, her attention drawn to a commotion further down the block—a cacophony of car horns blaring, angry shouts blending into the urban symphony. She dismissed it as background noise, her focus returning to Irina, who was rummaging through her purse.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“My phone,” Irina replied absentmindedly. “I think I left it on silent at the salon.”

Before Nate could respond, the roar of an engine cut through the air, its aggressive growl out of place in the relatively calm street. A sleek black car with tinted windows appeared, weaving through traffic with an urgency. She glanced at it briefly but thought nothing of it.

She was a Volkov—aggression was the default setting.

The car drew closer, slowing as it neared them, its purring engine an ominous undercurrent. Nate felt it then—a strange prickle at the base of her neck, a subtle yet unmistakable warning. Her steps faltered, her instincts telling her to pull Irina closer.

“Let’s cross here,” she suggested, her voice tight.

But before Irina could respond, the car came to a sudden stop just a few feet from them. Nate’s gaze snapped to the vehicle, her pulse quickening as the back window began to lower. Just a crack. Just enough.

She saw it—a glint of metal, a shadowy hand—and in that split second, her body moved before her mind could catch up.

“Mum, get down!” she shouted, reaching for Irina’s arm.

And then the world shattered.

The first crack was sharp, metallic, like glass breaking under pressure. Nate flinched, her brain struggling to process the sound. A second and third followed, their echoes ricocheting off the brownstone, turning the narrow street into a tunnel of chaos. 

Each shot slammed into Irina, her body snapping back as though struck by invisible fists. Her purse fell first, skittering to the ground with a hollow thud, followed by her legs giving way as if the strings holding her upright had been cut.

“Mum!” Nate screamed, the name erupting from her like a primal wail, raw and uncontainable. She lunged forward as Irina crumpled to the pavement, her once-elegant figure folding into a graceless heap. Blood bloomed across her white blouse, a grotesque and vivid flower spreading outward, soaking into the fabric. The iron tang hit Nate’s nose instantly, sharp and nauseating.

The car didn’t linger. Its tires screeched against the asphalt, the tinted windows rolling up like a stage curtain closing on the violence it had unleashed. Within seconds, it vanished into the river of traffic, leaving nothing but the stench of burnt rubber and the hollow, ringing silence that followed destruction.

For a moment, Nate couldn’t move. The world blurred around her, colours bleeding together as her mind refused to process what her eyes saw; Irina lying motionless, blood pooling beneath her, spreading outward like a dark halo.

“M-Mum…” Nate’s voice cracked, disbelief and terror tangled in her throat. She fell to her knees, uncaring of the blood that soaked through her jeans and slicked her hands as she cradled Irina’s weighted form. “No… No, no, no—wake up, please!”

Irina’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. Her lips moved faintly, forming half-words that Nate couldn’t hear over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Deep crimson bubbled at the corner of her mouth, a cruel mockery of life.

“Stay with me,” Nate begged, clutching her mother’s hand, the warmth she was so used to already beginning to fade. “Someone please help!” she cried out desperately.

Around them, the street had erupted into a frenzy. People screamed, some ducking into doorways, others frozen in shock. Cars honked furiously, their drivers oblivious to the tragedy unfolding just feet away. A few pedestrians gathered at a cautious distance, their faces pale and horrified, but no one dared step closer. This was New York; people knew better than to get involved in business like this.

Except one.

A man broke through the small crowd, his boots slamming against the pavement as he ran toward them. He was scruffy, with wild blue eyes and a jacket that looked like it had survived a war. He dropped to his knees beside Nate, his movements urgent but not panicked.

“Hey, hey,” he said steadily. “I’ve got her, I’ve got you. What’s your name?”

Nate didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. All she could do was sob messily as she clutched her mother’s limp body, her blood-slick hands trembling as she rocked back and forth.

“What’s her name?” the stranger asked.

“I-Irina…” Nate managed to choke out.

“Irina…” he nodded before looking down at the slain woman. “Irina. Can you hear me? I’m Dean, I’m gonna he—” he paused, already noting the gurgling in her throat and the purple forming around her lips. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, yanking a phone from his pocket. “911, we’ve got a shooting on—” He rattled off the address, but Nate wasn’t listening.

Irina’s fingers twitched weakly in her grip, and Nate’s breath caught. “Mum?” she whispered, leaning in close. “I’m here. You’re going to be fine, okay? Just–just stay awake. Please…”

Irina’s lips moved again, faint and fragile, like the flutter of a moth’s wings. “C-Christmas…” she murmured, the word slurring. “Promise…”

The words hit Nate like a knife to the chest. She nodded frantically, tears spilling down her face. “Okay, Mum. Christmas. I’ll hold you to it, just… stay with me, alright? Don’t go anywhere…”

Her mother’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. Then her eyes slipped shut, her body going limp in Nate’s arms.

“No.” Nate’s voice broke, the single word a desperate plea. She shook Irina gently, gripping onto her body like it was her only lifeline. “No, no, no—you can’t leave, please don’t leave me. Oh, God…”

The man beside her, who she overheard as Dean, reached out, his hand firm on her shoulder. “The ambulance is on its way,” he let her know calmly. “You need to let go.”

But Nate couldn’t let go. Irina’s blood was everywhere—on her hands, her clothes, pooling in the cracks of the pavement—and yet it felt like her mother was slipping through her fingers, disappearing into the ether. The world around her swirled in a dizzying haze of sirens and shouting and the faint, acrid smell of gunpowder.

And Nate, kneeling in the middle of it all, could do nothing but scream.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Nate woke with a start, her body jerking forward as if she’d been yanked from the depths of a cold, violent ocean. The room was dark, but the shadows shifted and clawed at the edges of her vision, remnants of a nightmare she couldn’t shake. Her chest heaved, the sharp gasp for air cutting through the stillness. Sweat drenched her, a cold film plastering her shirt to her skin and chilling her to the bone despite the faint warmth of the room.

Her heart was racing, not just the steady thrum of adrenaline but an erratic, panicked flutter. It felt wrong, uneven, as though something fragile inside her was being wrung out like wet fabric. She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, the movement jerky and unsteady, trying to steady the unruly rhythm.

The dream lingered.

The sound of gunfire. The weight of her mother in her arms. Blood… so much blood…

Her throat closed, panic gripping her like a vice. She swallowed hard, trying to remind herself where she was. She wasn’t in the middle of Manhattan in 2014. There was no sidewalk slick with crimson, no scent of gunpowder and rubber in the air. It was December 2022. 

December 2022… You’re at home… Katya’s right down the hall… You’re okay…

But her heart wouldn’t stop.

It was too fast, too heavy, like it was trying to batter its way out of her chest. Each beat sent a sharp, pulsing ache radiating down her arms and into her jaw. The familiar tightness seized her ribs, squeezing like a cruel hand, and she let out a strangled gasp, clutching at the sheets.

Not now. God, not now.

Nate swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor with a muted thud. The room swayed, the shadows seeming to tilt and roll. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms in an effort to anchor herself. The sharp sting brought her back, just enough to remember what she needed to do.

The bathroom. The pills are in the bathroom, Nate.

She forced herself upright, her legs trembling under her weight. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, and each step felt like wading through thick, unforgiving mud. Her vision blurred at the edges, black spots creeping in like ink on water.

One step. Another.

The hallway stretched out before her, impossibly long and dark. She braced herself against the wall, her hand skimming over the cold plaster for balance. The floor beneath her seemed to ripple, an unsteady wave that made her stomach churn.

Her mind raced alongside her heart, a chaotic storm of memories and fear. Dimitri’s threats, Katya’s fragile voice, her mother’s warmth… Roman’s hard and unreadable face. Crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

Another step. Her knees buckled, and she slammed into the wall, her palm slipping against the smooth surface. A small, choked cry escaped her lips as the pain in her chest flared, sharp and searing, stealing her breath.

“Almost there,” she whispered to herself, the words trembling on her tongue.

She reached the bathroom door and fumbled for the handle, her shaking fingers struggling to grasp it. Finally, it gave way, and she stumbled inside, the light flickering on overhead with a harsh, fluorescent hum.

The mirror caught her reflection—a ghost staring back. Her face was pale, almost gray, her skin glistening with sweat. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her lips were tinged with a faint blue. She looked like she was dying.

And in that moment, she felt like it.

The cabinet. She forced her focus to the mirrored cabinet above the sink, yanking it open with a wary hand. Bottles clinked together as she shifted through them, her fingers clumsy and desperate. Finally, she found it—the small orange bottle with her name printed on the label.

Nate twisted the cap off and shook two pills into her palm, nearly dropping them as her fingers spasmed. She fumbled for the glass on the counter, filled it with unsteady hands, and swallowed the pills down, the water cool and biting against her dry throat.

She gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white as she leaned over, waiting for the storm inside her to subside. Each second stretched unbearably long, her heart still hammering against her ribs like it was punishing her for existing.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of her breath, ragged and uneven as it was. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Over and over, forcing the rhythm to slow, to calm, to remind her that she wasn’t going to die.

Minutes passed before the tightness in her chest began to ease, the erratic fluttering of her heart settling into something that resembled normal. Her hands were still trembling, but the immediate panic had passed, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made her feel like she’d been hollowed out.

She opened her eyes and looked back at her reflection. The colour was starting to return to her face, but the haunted look in her eyes remained. It always did.

This wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.

Nate reached for the hand towel and wiped her face, the cool fabric soothing against her clammy skin. She stared at herself for a moment longer, then turned off the light and stepped back into the hallway.

It was no longer empty.

Nate froze in her tracks, her pulse still irregular but now laced with irritation. Standing just outside the bathroom door, leaning casually against the wall, was her Uncle Ivan. Sharp features thrown into stark relief by dim lighting, pale blue eyes cutting through the gloom like ice.

He straightened when he saw her, sweeping over her dishevelled state with a mix of judgement and faint disdain.

“What the hell are you doing skulking outside the bathroom?” she asked raggedly.

Tilting his head, he studied her like she was a particularly uninteresting puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. Finally, he spoke, flatly and far from kind. “I heard noise. Thought maybe you’d had too much to drink again.”

The accusation hung like cigarette smoke, cloying and dismissive.

Nate huffed a breath, pressing her back against the doorframe for support. “Wow, you’re really earning your reputation as the quiet genius of the family tonight, Ivan. Because, yes, clearly I’m getting drunk at—” she glanced at the clock on the hallway wall, “Three in the morning. Alone. In the bathroom. You got me.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, his face unreadable but somehow managing to convey exactly how little he cared for her theatrics. “You reek of desperation,” he said coolly, “And that’s usually when people in this family reach for a bottle. But you’re right—it’s none of my business.”

“Glad we agree,” Nate shot back with a sour smile, pushing herself off the doorframe. She was about to walk past him when the faint sound of muffled voices reached her ears. She paused, glancing toward the direction of the staircase. “What’s that?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

Her patience, already thin, was evaporating fast. She met his gaze head-on, her own as sharp as broken glass. “You know, I’m getting really tired of not knowing what’s going on in this house…”

She barely saw him move. One moment, she was standing her ground; the next, his hand was wrapping around her arm, his grip iron and unyielding. Before she could pull away, he had backed her up against the wall, his face close enough that she could smell the faint trace of his last cigarette—bitter, like him.

“You should know by now,” he said quietly, “That your father executes plans with precision and secrecy. And you,” his grip tightened slightly, enough to make her audibly wince, “Have proven yourself unreliable.”

Now, Ivan never scared her. Even as the little brother of Dimitri and Sergei Volkov, two of the most menacing people she’d ever come across, that’s all he ever was. Never surpassed that title, always worked to earn that extra bit of notoriety, just to fall back into the same role as messenger or errand boy.

But that word. Unreliable. It hit her.

And the thing was… She knew it. She knew that she’d lost the trust, complete trust, of her father for a while now. Just by being herself, something he scarcely permitted and tried relentlessly to prevent for years. But… why now?

Ivan must have sensed the confusion, and he smirked at his niece with a smugness that matched the disposition of a man who had finally found an ounce of power and clung to it with a vice-like grip.

“Naive Natalka… Who do you think told Mitya about your moment with Roman Reigns at Madame X?”

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh,” she swallowed, “So it was you then… You’re the one who told him about that.” She gritted her teeth and smiled pitifully at her uncle, though her face still twisted with irritation, and perhaps, the slightest trace of betrayal. Wondering if he understood what he’d caused. A further turbulence between father and daughter. An unintentional push in the direction of the enemy.

Maybe Nate should have been thanking him… In some twisted, deflective way.

Maybe if it weren’t for the strain brought on by Dimitri’s knowledge that her daughter was seen drunkenly talking to Roman Reigns in their own club… maybe Nate wouldn’t have considered working with Roman. And then maybe… 

No. Don’t go there.

“You’re not my father,” Nate whispered evenly.

“Nyet,” he agreed, releasing her abruptly and stepping back. “But I know him better than you ever will. Sergei, Borislav… even Alexei… We all know him better than you or Katerina ever will.”

The unease that had grown in her chest gnawed at her. Burrowed under her skin. There was something wrong, something she couldn’t place her finger on exactly, couldn’t grasp, but it was there. And she didn’t like it.

Ivan gestured dismissively down the hall. “Go to bed, Natalka. That’s where you belong.”

This time, she didn’t relent; her energy was gone, drained completely, and she had no desire to keep up the facade of defiance any longer. She turned and walked away without a word, her footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.

But as she reached her door, she couldn’t shake the sense that her uncle’s eyes were still on her, watching her intently, evenly, carefully… like a predator surveying its prey.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Roman sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, his face framed by the glow of the laptop in front of him. The familiar hum of tension vibrated just beneath the surface of his composed exterior, though you wouldn’t know it from his subdued expression—impassive, if you may. His eyes flicked to the small grid of silent, blacked-out squares that represented the other participants in the call. Maria’s lawyer, his lawyer, two social workers… All watching without truly being there. Silent observers. Judging eyes.

He hated this.

It should have been simple. A call with his daughter. Just him, Ava, and whatever silly stories she wanted to share about her day. But nothing about this situation was simple anymore. Maria had seen to that.

“You ready for this, Sir?” Paul’s voice cut through the quiet, low and measured. He sat just off–camera, hands clasped in front of him like some kind of watchful guardian angel—or devil, depending on who you asked.

Roman nodded once. “Not like I have a choice, Wiseman.”

Heyman’s gaze softened, just a little. “Remember, they’re waiting for a slip up. Stay calm. Keep it light.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Light.”

With a final click, the call connected, and suddenly, the screen shifted. Ava’s face filled the centre square, her smile so wide it threatened to split her face in two. Her curls were pulled up into a lopsided ponytail, and she waved frantically at the camera.

“Daddy!”

Roman’s features softened instantly, the weight in his chest easing just a fraction. “Hey, baby.” His voice calmed too, warming like sunlight through storm clouds.

“I missed you so much!” Ava chirped, bouncing a little in her seat.

“I missed you more.” He leaned in a little closer, as if it would somehow bridge the distance between them. “What’s goin’ on? How’s school?”

Ava’s eyes lit up. “Guess what? We did this thing today about animals, and I picked wolves because they’re cool and they’re kinda like you. Like, you’re a leader and stuff!”

Roman chuckled, dropping his eyes briefly. “Yeah? Wolves, huh? I like that. What else did you learn?”

She launched into an animated description of her project, her hands moving wildly as she described wolf packs and how they worked together. Roman listened intently, nodding at all the right moments, never averting his gaze from hers. For a few minutes, it was easy to forget about the silent audience lurking just beyond the screen.

“Did you draw a picture of your wolf pack?”

“Uh-huh!” Ava disappeared from the frame for a second, then reappeared holding up a piece of paper covered in crayon drawings. “That’s me in the middle,” she explained, pointing to a smaller wolf with a bright pink bow. “And that’s you next to me ‘cause you’re the alpha!”

“You made me the alpha, huh?” Roman grinned. “I like it. You did a good job, baby, really good.”

Ava beamed, her pride shining through the screen. “Thank you, Daddy!”

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Roman caught the faint flicker of movement in one of the dark squares. Just a subtle shift, like someone adjusting in their seat. The reminder hit him like an icy slap.

The lawyers. The social workers. The goddamn spectators.

His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay focused on Ava. It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault.

“You still doin’ your gymnastics?” he asked, steering the conversation back to safer ground.

Ava nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I’m practicing my cartwheels. Mommy says I need to work on keeping my legs straight, though.”

“Yeah, that’s important,” Roman chuckled. “You’ll get it. Just keep practicing. You’re already better than me, and I never even tried.”

She giggled, like pure music to his ears. “Maybe you should try, Daddy! Then we can do cartwheels together!”

“Oh, I dunno about that, baby, I’m a little old for cartwheels.” He gave her a mock-serious look, which made her laugh even harder.

“Daddy, you’re not old!”

“I’m not?” He raised an eyebrow, playing along. ���I feel pretty old.”

“Nope. You’re strong… like a wolf!”

Roman smiled, a rush of genuine warmth shooting straight for his heart. “I’ll take that.”

They kept talking, the conversation bouncing from school to her favourite cartoons to what she wanted for Christmas. Roman soaked up every word, storing them away like precious treasures.

But even as he laughed with her, a darker thought lingered at the edges of his mind. The last conversation he’d had with Nate.

The bruise on her cheek, the casual way in which she’d admitted that her father had hit her. The rage he’d felt then simmered beneath the surface now, feeding into the frustration of this whole situation.

The idea that he had to prove to these strangers that he wasn’t like that, that he wasn’t the kind of man who would ever hurt his daughter—it made his blood boil.

He took a deep breath, pushing it down. Focus. Stay calm.

Ava was talking about a classmate now, something about a boy named Tyler who always stole the blue crayons. Roman listened, nodding along.

“Next time, you tell Tyler that if he wants the blue crayon, he’s gotta ask nicely,” he said.

“Okay, Daddy.” She paused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Or I could just take it back.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, or that… But remember—be nice first, okay?”

“Okay.”

They talked for a little while longer, until eventually, Maria’s voice cut in from somewhere off-screen, telling Ava it was time to say goodbye.

“I don’t wanna go yet!” Ava protested, her face falling.

“I know, baby, but we’ll talk again soon, okay? Real soon.” Roman’s voice softened. “Ti amo, bambina.”

“Ti amo anch’io papá.”

The screen went dark, and the call ended.

Roman pushed back from his desk, shutting the laptop with a little more force than necessary. He let out a slow, measured exhale, his shoulders still tight from the silent tension in the call.

“Not bad, my Tribal Chief,” Heyman offered, standing up from his spot in the corner. Whilst Roman didn’t directly acknowledge the compliment, the Wiseman knew what they meant. What he meant. To Roman.

Paul followed closely behind as Roman strode toward the door with his brain already one step ahead, already moving to what was next. But when he opened the door, he found Solo standing there like a stone sentinel. Arms crossed, stoically unreadable, a sheer presence that filled the hallway.

Roman blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his cousin’s appearance. “What are you doin’?” he asked.

Solo remained calm, still looking ahead of him. “Just makin’ sure no one’s sneakin’ around. Don’t need pryin’ eyes or ears up here.”

For a beat, Roman’s brow furrowed in confusion. Then it clicked, and he rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Man, you serious right now? You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm, doin’ all this paranoid shit.” His tone carried a blend of humour and irritation, the kind of blunt honesty that only family could get away with.

“Just lookin’ out.” Solo shrugged.

Roman shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Ain’t got time for that.” He brushed past Solo, leading the way down the hall and toward the stairs.

The living room stretched out before them as they descended, the wide open-plan space bustling with quiet activity. The hum of muted conversations mixed with an occasional burst of laughter, creating a strange yet comforting harmony.

At the coffee table, Tamina and Nate sat side by side on the couch, a laptop open between them. Nate’s posture was relaxed, slightly hunched forward as her eyes narrowed at the screen, scrolling through with her delicate fingers stroking over the touchpad. Tamina leaned back, one arm draped over the couch, but her attention was clearly on Nate.

Across the room, Jimmy and Sami were huddled at the dining table, surrounded by a chaotic mess of papers—the same ones from the folder Seth had handed over. Sami was gesturing animatedly, his voice low but intense, while Jimmy nodded along, occasionally jotting something down.

In the background, the sound of Naomi and Jey playing table tennis at the counter could be heard, with a level of competitiveness that was somehow both serious and ridiculous. Naomi was clearly winning, and Jey’s loud groan of frustration served as temporary punctuation marks.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Roman’s arms rested at his sides as he took it all in. As usual, his eyes landed on Nate again, almost feeling a small jolt in his chest that left as quickly as it came.

She looked… at home.

There she was, smack in the middle of everything, like she’d always been there. Like she belonged there. Her leather jacket was draped casually over the back of the couch, leaving her in a red lace bralette, the deep crimson standing out against her light olive skin—a contrast that made her dark hair and sharp features even more vivid. Her black jeans and studded boots completed the look entirely. Effortless. Lethal. All at once.

But it wasn’t just what she was wearing. It rarely ever was. It was the way she carried herself, the way her brow furrowed ever so slightly in concentration as she worked. That subtle scowl of hers—the one that hinted at some quiet anger or irritation—was there and damn if it didn’t stir something in him.

Roman let himself linger a second longer than he should’ve, tracing the curve of her jaw, the slight downturn of her lips. She was gorgeous. No, she was more than that. She was magnetic. Pulling him in when he knew better.

She fit it in too well, and that was dangerous.

He blinked, forcing himself to look away, sweeping over the room again, yet still… he always circled back to her. 

She’s just workin’ with Tamia, he reminded himself. That’s it.

But the thought didn’t settle the way it should’ve. It idled, heavily.

For a man who prided himself on control, Roman hated how easily she could make him forget himself.

“Y’all look busy,” he said finally, breaking the easy tone of the room. He stepped forward, commanding everybody’s attention without asking for it. Heads turned toward him, but Nate didn’t immediately look up. She stayed focused on whatever was on the screen, only glancing his way after so long. And when she did, that scowl softened slightly, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile.

Roman felt the corner of his own mouth tug upward, almost involuntarily. Damn, she’s trouble.

He decided to walk over to Jimmy and Sami, glancing at the table cluttered with papers and the glowing laptop screen in front of them. Sami’s fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, muttering to himself in a low, focused voice. Jimmy leaned back in his chair, clicking a pen with one hand and rubbing the other over his face like he’d been staring at the same document for too long.

“What we got?” Roman asked, folding his arms and looking between them.

“Shattered Dreams Armory,” Sami started, his eyes glued to the laptop. “Formed in Florida in the ‘90s. Seemed to have shifted their base to Queens around ‘07… They keep their heads low. A few permits here, some sketchy tax records there, but no solid names. It’s like chasing ghosts.”

Roman exhaled slowly. “Ghosts don’t steal shipments.”

“Right,” Sami agreed. “But if we’re looking at their trade volume, they’re moving serious weight. Weapons, ammo, maybe even more. They need a warehouse—a big one. And they’ve been doing this for years without getting caught.”

Jimmy finally stopped his pen-clicking, which had started to drive Roman crazy. “You think they the ones who lifted the shipment?”

“Their bullet was at the scene, of course it had to have been them. Or affiliated…”

Sami shrugged. “It’s frustrating as hell, but they seem to be good at covering their tracks.”

Jimmy, for a moment—just a split second—exchanged a glance with Solo, who was standing over by the stairs, listening in. His face scrunched up as he shifted in his seat, something clearly springing to mind. He hoped Roman missed it, but he didn’t. Roman rarely missed a thing.

“What was that?”

The older Uso hesitated, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Uh, nothin’, Uce. Just… remembering stuff.”

“Remember it out loud, Jim.” Roman’s patience was hanging by a thread.

Before Jimmy could respond, Nate’s sharp intake of breath sliced through the conversation.

“Oh my God…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried across the room like a gunshot. 

Everyone turned to her. She was on her feet, paling in the face, eyes locked on the laptop screen in front of her. Tamina was beside her, a hand on her arm with a face equally grim.

“Nate?” Roman called over to her, instantly alert.

She didn’t respond right away. Her hand ran over her hair, gripping onto it as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. It was Tamina who spoke first, keeping her voice low. 

“She found somethin’, Ro. And it ain’t good.”

Roman was already moving, leaving Sami and Jimmy behind as he crossed the room to crouch down beside Nate once she’d slowly sat back down to get a better look at the screen.

“Nate,” he said again, a little quieter this time. “What is it?”

Blinking, her focus finally shifted from the laptop to his face, her teeth gnawing together in fury in horror. “Alexei,” she hissed.

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “What about him?”

She sighed heavily, moving her hair from her face as she picked up the laptop to place it on her lap. “I needed Tamina because… I wanted to pull some records. Needed to know who my dad is forcing my sister to marry, right?” She paused and swallowed hard. “And now I wish I hadn’t.”

Roman glanced over at Tamina, who gave a subdued nod. “Worse than we thought.”

“Worse how?” Roman demanded.

Nate’s voice dropped as she turned the laptop in Roman’s direction, heavy with disgust. “Alexei Lebedev. Born in Moscow. Came to the US in the 90s. Started small—drugs, weapons. By the mid 2000s, he’d expanded into uh—” Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the bile crawling its way up inside her. “Expanded into… human trafficking. Girls as young as fifteen, Roman. Fifteen. He’s a monster.”

The room went dead silent. Even Sami, who had been quietly working in the background, froze, his face a mask of shock and disgust.

Roman’s expression darkened, his jaw tightened so intensely that it looked like it might shatter. His nose twitched, and his tongue ran over his teeth as he took a moment to compose himself, looking down and rolling his neck. When he looked back up, the brown in his eyes had darkened to pools of tar. “You sure?”

Nate nodded slowly. “It’s all here,” she confirmed with more resolve. “He’s been running this for years. And it gets worse… He’s tied to these hate organisations, neo-Nazi groups. Racist, homophobic, misogynistic—you name it, he embodies it.”

Tamina added, “There’s also evidence out there of him being involved in hate crimes in the city. Assaults, even murder. The guy’s a tickin’ time bomb, Ro.”

“And my father wants Katya to fucking marry him,” Nate spat. “Selling her off to this… this… evil bastard.”

Roman and Nate locked onto each other, the former taking in the latter’s rage and pain that radiated from her. It wasn’t often that he saw her this rattled, not even when she opened up about her dad. But it stirred something deep down in his gut.

“You’re not gonna let that happen,” he said finally, full of conviction.

Nate’s eyebrow arched up, nostrils flaring a little as her chest started heaving. “Fucking right I’m not,” she declared through gritted teeth.

“I’ve already started gathering more,” Tamina added, “We’ll get everything we need to bury him.”

Roman stood, looking down at Nate with narrowed eyes. “Good,” he responded to Tamina, despite the fact he was looking at Nate. “Keep digging.” He finally looked at his older cousin. “I want every dirty little secret this bastard has ever tried to hide.”

Nate leaned back on the couch, almost obsessively scrolling through the pages they’d found on the laptop, muttering a small “thank you.” 

Tamina gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ve got this.”

“Take a breather,” Roman told Nate after lingering on her a moment further, noting the tough exterior cracking enough for him to see the depth of her fury. But she shook her head defiantly.

“I’m not stopping until I know everything.”

And for once, Roman didn’t argue. Instead, he turned and gave a small nod toward Jimmy and Sami. “Go get Naomi and Jey.” He looked over at Solo. “You get over here too. We need everyone on this.” He then looked over at Paul, who had been sitting silently observing and analysing the scene with a muted look of horror behind his eyes.

Tamina shifted on the couch and stood up. “I’ll make a few calls. See if I can pull anything else. Back in a minute.”

Nate stayed seated, staring at the coffee table. The others began filing out, conversations low and tense. Tamina patted her shoulder as she passed.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Nate nodded tightly, but the answer was a blatant lie.

Once the door shut behind Tamina, and Paul and Solo had both disappeared for a retrieval of coffee, the silence pained Nate, the pressure intensifying in her ears. She tried to shake off the lingering dread, but she could feel Roman watching her, waiting.

She stood abruptly, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “This is my mess,” she muttered, shaking her head, more to herself than to him. “I can handle it. I don’t need everyone dropping everything for me.”

Roman leaned back against the edge of the dining table, crossing his arms as he just watched her every move. Back and forth.

She kept talking, rambling. “You need to focus on the shipment. Seth’s intel, everything with whoever took out Priest—this is too important. I’ll deal with the Alexei thing, I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to—”

“Nate.”

She ignored him, still pacing. “Change your plans because of me. It’s not worth it. I’m not w–”

“Nate.”

This time, Roman’s voice cut through her like a machete, low and firm. Before she could take another step, he was in front of her, large, gargantuan hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes flickered up, reluctant but ultimately obedient. She was met with the full force of his gaze, dark and intense, burning with what she couldn’t decipher. Anger, maybe. Something deeper, possibly.

“You don’t get to decide what’s worth it,” Roman said with a low and controlled tone, albeit dangerous in its quiet fury. “You should’ve told me. If I knew this was about Alexei, findin’ shit on this guy, I’d have done this myself.”

Nate opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head, silencing her. His grip tightened just enough to ground her, not hurt her. “Half a shipment goin’ missing is nothing. Some guns? That’s replaceable. But a trafficker? A man who’s been runnin’ girls like fuckin’ livestock? That’s a whole different level. You think I’m gon’ let a monster like that exist in my world?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the venom in his words.

“I don’t want that sack of shit in my yard,” Roman continued, lowering his voice further, each word as deliberate as they could get. “You think this is about you? This is bigger than you. Bigger than me. This is about family.”

Nate’s breath hitched, the word hanging from his lips like a challenge. Family.

“I’m not your family, Roman,” she muttered.

Roman’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through his otherwise serious expression. “Gettin’ there, Princess,” he hummed, and it stumped her so much that she almost laughed.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, but he didn’t step back. They were still standing so close, too close.

A moment passed of them just staring at each other until Roman’s face softened, just a fraction, as if letting his guard down like he had in the dark, early in the morning, weeks ago. “You feel this for Katya,” he said. “The way I feel for Ava. I get it”

Her throat tightened. She hadn’t expected him to make such an introspective assessment of her thoughts.

“And God be damned if I let him outstay his welcome on this earth.”

With a harsh swallow, Nate nodded slowly. The fire in her belly reignited, tempered now by a sense of purpose. The door creaked open, and the spell broke. Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Solo, Paul, and Tamina filtered back in, the tension thickening again as the group reassembled. Roman stepped back, but his gaze never left Nate’s.

Tamina walked over to Nate, resuming their conversation like nothing had happened. “We’ll gather everything we can find… and then we’ll get him.”

Roman, standing off to the side, watched them for a beat longer. His eyes flicked to Nate, and when she glanced back, he gave her a small wink.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But she saw it. It was there.

And she liked it.

But what she liked more was the idea of taking down Alexei. And like Roman said… his presence on Earth had been long overstood. Simply burying the man would never be enough.

She’d have to make sure he’d only wish for his own demise once she was done with him. And whether Roman helped her or not…

Alexei Lebedev had to die.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (11/25/2024) Episode: Retail Reinvention

Skye’s parents seemed happy with Elyse’s plan to take him shopping: “Have fun you two… and don’t spend all our simoleons in one place!”

However, as soon as the kids were out of sight Luigi dopped his smile and turned to Noemi. “I was really looking forward to helping Skye pick out some new outfits, and maybe even one for myself. I didn’t feel right shooting down their little master plan though. He would have been devastated.”

Noemi nodded. “I know what you mean. I worry about them out there where we can’t guide and help them, but encouraging his initiative is key to helping him grow up. After all, this is just a trip to the local retail shop, not Selvadorada.”

Luigi wandered around moodily until Noemi gave him a kiss and suggested: “Letting them go by themselves was the right choice, but there’s no reason we can’t go shopping ourselves. A little retail therapy for that outfit you wanted, and maybe a quick visit to the gym, will make you feel better.”

“That sounds marvelous” Luigi told her “I knew I married you for a reason!” Noemi punched him lightly on the shoulder at that, laughing before taking his hand and following the path the younger generation had just recently gone down, arriving in no time at their own shopping destination.

At a much less upscale shop than his parents were visiting Skye stared critically at his reflection in the mirror “Do you really think I can pull this off?”

“You look great!” Elyse assured him “I love that top on you, its perfect and it pairs really well with your new glasses. Now get changed while I grab the other things we picked out and we’ll head over to the makeup counter. Some dark eyeshadow and lipstick is essential to complete the look.”

“There… all finished” the salesclerk told him a few minutes later “what do you think?”

Skye had felt unsure about his new fashion choices, but he surprised himself by loving the makeup “Its perfect… thank you so much” he gushed as the smiling clerk tossed all the eyeshadow and lipstick she had used into his shopping basket for him to bring home.

“Elyse, come smell this!” Skye called out as they trailed behind the sales sim “Maybe I can get some of this too?”

“Skye, that’s perfume silly!” Elyse laughed at his confused expression. “Girls wear perfume, boys wear cologne… everyone knows that!” she sighed “What AM I going to do with you!? Come on, let’s pay for your makeup and then we’ll find something to make you smell nice and manly”.

Returning as promised to the table full of scents Skye let Elyse guide him towards some cologne that he thought smelled OK. He still didn’t see why he couldn’t just buy the awesome perfume, but he trusted his friend and certainly didn’t want to be laughed at for “doing it wrong”.

“You’ll love this – trust me!” Elyse declared as they ended their trip at a nail salon. “One pedicure and one foot massage please” she asked the clerk.

“Pick your color” the sales associate said, pointing towards the nail samples “Oh, look at that sparkly blue!” Skye exclaimed, “I want that one!”

“Skye” Elyse shook her head, “I’M getting the pedicure, you’re getting a foot massage. They don’t paint your nails with that.”

“Well then, I want a pedicure too.” he told her, but she only shook her head again. “Boys don’t paint their nails, Skye. Seriously.”

Skye really wanted to wear the pretty polish, but he couldn’t recall seeing any of his guy friends with painted nails, so he didn’t argue. That didn’t stop him from glancing at the array of sparkly colors the whole time he was getting his massage. It seemed unfair that he wasn’t allowed to sparkle.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[chaotic-zora]

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

Silvyr! I know we've talked a little about this, and you've written about it on their character description sheet-- but how well does Silvyr take care of themself? Especially after they've drained themself using their powers?

This was a FUN one to type up, it got so long ahahah.

Silvyr's self care management is....lacking, in some ways. They are more conscious about it when outside of their Domain (one cannot afford to look weak while negotiating), but when they are within the safety of their Domain oh boi, do they like to test their limits.

Silvyr has a bad migraine? Well that sucks, but there is still paperwork that needs to get done so their ignoring it. Dizzy spell? Ack, they'll sit down later they need to go talk to a few others first. Muscles aching? Ignore it, keep walking, it never goes away anyway.

Sometimes they can even be found passed out at their desk from pulling an all nighter, much to the chargin of everyone in the domain. But that's the thing, Silvyr takes care of the domain, and in turn, is beloved and taken care of by EVERYONE within it.

If Silvyr is stumbling around shivering and looking exhausted you BET a few zora have are already approached them with the intent to lure them into a communal sleeping pool. Passed out at their desk? There's already a few blankets draped over their shoulders. Silvyr forgets about one of their medical appointments? Nyvor will track them down and do an on the go medical check in as Silvyr works. Silvyr having a really bad day of chills? Thresh has noticed and brought them their favorite fish stuffed with spicy peppers to warm them up.

It is this help, and the insistence of others (their mates, friends, and the Domain as a whole) that has gotten them better at taking care of themselves.

Some of the things they routinely do to manage pains/aches/post magic effects include:

Routine healing sessions with Nyvor (to manage muscle aches & pains). Frequent trips to the underwater Volcano (extremely warm! Where others have to wear sapphires to stay cool Silvyr does not. The intense heat is great for them especially when they are experiencing chills.) Eating spicy food, it helps elevate their internal temperature! Visiting dark places (preferably underwater), whenever they have a headache.

When they are completely drained from their powers is when these side effects are at their worst. I think you did an AMAZING job depicting this in Denouncement. Seriously, all the kudos to how you showed the strain Silvyr's ice magic puts on their body, without making them seem incapable.

After they've been drained from excessive use of ice magic they need like a two day sleep marathon, preferably in a heated pool or surrounded by others for body warmth. They will also check in with a healer for potential frostbite/hypothermia damage. Not so fun fact! Their chipped fins are from overuse of magic, where frostbite had settled in and the fin shattered as a result. Very painful experience.

The WORST side effect they can experience due to a serious magic drain are low sanity episodes. This is delirium caused by the onset of hypothermia. It's very rare for this to occur, but when it does Silvyr will require the complete assistance of others, as they'll have difficulty comprehending where they are, and may say some pretty inane things.

Don't let the above fool you though! In terms of battle Silvyr can still hold their own, it takes a prolonged fight and powerful spells to reach a total drain.

[toreii]

Lost in the Book with Stitch part 2

Disclaimer: This is a fan translation. I apologize for any mistakes. I’m by no means fluent in Japanese, but I try my best. Please, support the official translation when it comes out.

Library

Floyd: “Why is everyone gathered together like sardines?”

Ace: “Well. For summer vacation, I was assigned a troublesome book report.”

Ace: “I was talking with Yuu and the others about which book to write the essay on.”

Ace: “I met the housewarden by chance, and he’s picking out a good book for me.”

Grim: “First of all, I don’t want to write a book report.”

Riddle: “Not to worry. I will pick books suitable for each level.”

Lilia: “Azul and Floyd are also looking for books.”

Lilia: “Has anyone seen the book ‘Accurate Account! Twisted Wonderland Stroll’?”

Riddle: “Well……I don’t recall seeing it.”

Ace: “Why are you looking for that book? Do the seniors also have a book report assignment?”

Floyd: “Nuh-uh. It’s a guide to help decide where to go for summer vacation.”

Ace: “Eh, the upperclassmen are traveling?”

Ace: “Actually, I plan to go to the Shaftlands with my family.”

Floyd: “Oh. Crabby-chan, you have a nice family.”

Ace: “Nah, it’s been a long time since we’ve been on a family trip, right? It just so happens that my brother was able to take time off.”

Azul: “Shaftlands… Jack-san. For reference, are there any recommended areas in the Shaftlands?”

Jack: “Recommend? Of course…the Shaftlands is huge, and there’s a plateau that’s cool even in the summer, so it’s popular as a summer resort.”

Jack: “I went last year with my siblings, and the scenery was beautiful and spacious.”

Jack: “Every day I’m asked to go again. Summer vacations keep bringing me back.”

Lilia: “The famous summer resort is a mountain in the north side? It certainly looks like a pleasant summer to spend there!”

Lilia: “Hm……if I use magic over there, I may be able to make a day trip. I think I’ll secretly take Malleus with me.”

Floyd: “What about you, goldfishie? Are you seriously going home to study?”

Riddle: “No. I have plans for summer camp.”

Azul: “Camp!? That doesn’t fit Riddle-san’s image…”

Riddle: “Is that so? It was recommended by my mother. I’m personally looking forward to it.”

Riddle: “We’ll be staying by a lake in the Queendom of Roses, and all the participants will have a study session from morning ‘til night.”

Ace: “Does that have to be done out by the lake…?”

*The boys talk among themselves*

Yuu:

“It sounds fun.”

“It’s always exciting before the break.”

Grim: “Everyone all have plans to go play, I’m jealous.”

Grim: “I only have plans to hang out in Ramshackle Dorm! It’s boring!”

Grim: “Aah, I wanna go somewhere too~”

*sparkle*

Grim: “…Hm? One book is sticking out from the shelf. Have we ever had a book like this?”

Floyd: “What’s wrong, baby seal-chan? Did you find the book already?”

Azul: “No, this seems to be another book. The cover is different from what I saw online.”

Riddle: “…Hm? The book Grim has doesn’t have a title written on it.”

Riddle: “The library label is also not affixed to it. This doesn’t seem to be a school book. Has someone’s personal property gotten misplaced?”

Lilia: “There’s a mirror embedded in it. It’s a strange binding.”

Lilia: “Also……something……”

Floyd: “…This book is amazing!”

Lilia: “Hmm. Is this…magical power? I’m not sure…but I have a strange feeling I’ve never felt before…”

Floyd: “Aha, I have a funny premonition. I wonder what’s written inside.”

Grim: “Someone’s amazing secrets, treasure locations……Nyahaha, I’m excited!”

Grim: “Okay. Let’s look inside!”

*Book lights up*

Grim: “Funaah! What’s this!? It’s blinding…!”

Everyone: “UWAAAAAH~~~~!”

To be continued…

[femenaces]

I really don't understand why radblr is so anti self diagnosis for autism really. Most, but like by 60% self dx pushers are female.

Like, women here understand medical misogyny, psychiatric misogyny, understand that people outside of the first world Anglosphere exist and don't have the same views on mental health, understand that tictok is not a proper representation of anything in reality, understand that poor conformity to social norms in girls is seen more as an act of malice than a struggle to grow as femininity is ritualised submission and who'd do that without coercive forces. The study how like over 80% of patients at a child trancing clinic in England are autistic girls used to make rounds here too.

And usually also understand that support systems are collapsing and that the governments keep cutting support to the struggling groups on general for decades, including for out of hatred of older and 'useless' women so it's not a new phenomenon, or the one that comes from the public.

And yet posts equating ableist narratives and having incredibly subclinical traits with self diagnosis keep making rounds and rounds.

Maybe I'm just not seeing what people are seeing because I never had tictok, but, for example, the low support needs self-or-late-yadayada creators on YouTube generally do not push the shit people here said they would push? They're like not saying that anyone autistic doesn't need help and that everyone is autistic?Some people on the 'other side', however, say that everyone has autistic traits - this is beyond unhelpful, most people don't, but some have very subclinical traits, and they should be made aware of that since their children are likely to be autistic, or they have struggles that psychologist generally dismiss having been trained to help people without them and to dismiss other issues as not trying hard enough.

Also, that 'gentrification of disability' article that's been going around makes no point outside of juxtaposing a childless career woman with an ever-suffering mother of a boy, and guilt-tripping the audience for not siding with the doomed mommy (remember the study that shows people like moms who are miserable in public significantly more? Also that boymoms are just higher in status than other women?) over the adult manless woman, without ever clarifying what she must do outside of not existing - I am confused as how radblr keeps taking that article seriously completely outside of their opinions on self diagnosis at all.

Is there like a hidden bottom line layer of bullshit in that narrative I'm not seeing?

I myself can't help to come off other that weird and childish, rely on other adults for basic everyday needs, don't leave my house without ear protection to not get violently angry at people and animals, could not understand why people contort their faces or tones of speech until teen years when a girl explained it to me, didn't talk until 5, couldn't join other girls games because they were all pretend games i couldn't understand, always had behavioural complaints that made be bounce around many schools (the doctor said my meltdown in front of her was not grounds for homeschool as i couldn't injure anyone being 25kg at 14 even though school sent me there after injuring a student), and can't leave my house for more than twice a week because it's confusing and overwhelming. i could not get an official diagnosis as a kid because my parents didn't care about any of that since they themselves are a much lighter case of that and and are negligent and thought it would end by preteens and in my country there are no obligatory psych checks for children. But also, autism legally is not diagnosed after early elementary school in this region.

But we don't approve of self-diagnosed around here because qweeroids (not that these women could adopt a poor way of coping with not fitting in ot something) on tictok said a dumb thing so i guess i gotta be just individually defective freak that chose it then.

I’m gonna be real with you anon I am not involved in this discourse so I don’t think I can weigh in and if anything, I was (am?) of the opinion that everyone self diagnosing as autistic these days is cringe and probably bad for actual autistic people. But that said I think everyone can see the difference between someone like you self diagnosing and some 14 year old on tiktok self diagnosing for nothingburger reasons

But in general I’m someone who never thought much about autism at all until recently and even then still hardly ever except for whenever my dad does some autistic shit and I’m like yeahhhhhh not sure how we didn’t clock that sooner

[duchessofostergotlands]

It's funny how yesterday I was listening you stressing out British people don't emphatize with the riches' misery while strolling news about five millioners stuck in a submarine.

Lol, I speak only the truth!

In all seriousness, whether it’s right or wrong, it is hard to sympathise when people voluntarily chose to go in an obvious death trap, without doing any due diligence, to explore what is an actual gravesite because they’re so rich they have no understanding of personal risk and want to be able to boast about accessing things most humans can’t access. If our species was supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean we would be lol. This wasn’t about discovery or science but purely about profit and ego, and it’s killed five people. And the fact one of them chose to take his 19 year old son with him - there is no way that boy could have gone on the trip without his dad’s money and approval, and since I first drafted this it’s come out he may have been pressured to go - and now a family have lost two people in terrible circumstances makes it even worse. It’s just wasteful, frankly. I sympathise with their families, I wish things had gone differently, but it really is such a perfect encapsulation of how insane wealthy inequality has become!

I was thinking about this topic after we did our episode and I think it’s about balance. I’m comfortable, financially, because I have parents who were comfortable financially, I studied in a place where higher education is free, I have no kids and no social life, and I’ve been hoarding money like Smaug since I was a child. But even I worry about keeping a roof over my head, I worry about what happens if I lose my job. I’ve been made redundant before and had that feeling of panic and fear that I’ll never find another job. I couldn’t find a place to live on my own on my salary in the city I worked in which negatively impacted my mental health and I’m already struggling with a severe mental illness. And I’m lucky, millions in the U.K. have it way worse than me. I’m not one of those people who thinks the rich can’t suffer or that their emotions don’t matter - that’s a slippery slope as that would dnd up with everyone except the one human who is worst off in the whole world being told they can’t suffer and they don’t matter - but at the same time normal humans all have this struggle. So when you see multi millionaires and billionaires - especially those who inherited wealth - they automatically have less on their plate to worry about in terms of financial security, they don’t have those daily worries we all have. And so when they do experience hardship it kind of feels to the public - or to me at least - like the hardship has to be more intense in order to balance the scale because they already start off so much higher. Does that make sense?

I do think actively celebrating deaths is a bit much. It’s cruel but more importantly it’s completely pointless and damages the cause, and I think is more often than not done so people on the Internet can feel better about themselves and show off to their friends. But I completely get why people don’t feel pity or sympathy either. There’s a massive cavern in the middle where most of us sit. I just think it’s knowing the time and place and manner when it comes to vocalising that view. Nobody can make you empathise but you don’t have to declare it, unprompted, in the most callous way you can think of

[sitepathos]

A Trip to Hogsmeade

After a particularly long and grueling mission, Laswell manages to secure a month long leave for the 141, as well as Alejandro, and König. Of course, they were happy to hear that they’d have a long time to unwind, but they didn’t know how to occupy that much time! They’re soldiers, they’re not used to having that much free time. As for you, you kept on top of your studies, so you had a few days free to offer a great way to start their leave: a trip to Hogmeade, the only all-wizarding village in Scotland! Naturally, they were excited to not only see more of the Wizarding World, but also to spend more time with you! What could be better?

Price

He was blown away at the sight of everything. Seriously, it’s like going back in the past with all these stone buildings! This man would seriously nerd out over the history of the village.

“This place served as the wizards’ headquarters during the Goblin Rebellion. Wait, you guys have goblins?”

He loves the Three Broomsticks. He loves a good pint and he’s been to A LOT of sketchy bars and powered through them for the sake of good beer, but the smell of goats that’s synonymous with the Hog’s Head is where he draws the line. “No beer in the world is good enough to stand that smell.” Plus, the butterbeer is absolutely delicious.

Also, he loves the Three Broomsticks because it’s very welcoming. He sees his boys enjoying themselves, laughing, and cutting up, it warms his weary heart. They get dirty so the rest of the world can stay clean, but it’s hard to keep fighting when it seems like all there is to life is the mission and the only thing to look forward to is death. Here, they’re not soldiers, they’re just men having a good time.

When it’s time to leave, he brings back half a dozen barrels of butterbeer for him to take home. He can get a good pint anywhere back home, but the best butterbeer is only found at the Three Broomsticks. You also bought him a quick-quotes quill from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop so he can write reports and paperwork without having to do any writing. The face he made when you told him made your heart skip a beat. But, his most important souvenir is a group picture taken back at the Three Broomsticks; it’s enchanted, so it’s like a moment of time captured within a frame. He keeps it on his desk at all times.

Gaz

He looks like a kid in a candy store when you arrived at Hogsmeade. “Everyone here is a wizard?” He looks at every store you pass by with fascination.

Also, speaking of being in a candy store, he absolutely loses his mind when you show him Honeydukes. Like, the minute you walk through the door, his jaw literally drops to the floor. The sight of candy packed into every corner of the store nearly sends him into a coma.

He sees the dozens of boxes of chocolate frogs for sale and he gives you the most irresistible puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. You buy as many boxes he can carry so he try to complete his collection.

He also loves the Sprintwitches Sporting Needs store. He fell in love with a Thunderbolt VII that was on display and exchanged all the money he had for the galleons needed for you to buy it. Despite him saying it was yours, you told him that your money bought it, so it was his to keep and whenever he wanted to go for a ride, you would drop everything so he could fly on it. He keeps it proudly displayed in his room back on base, above his bed. Soap is totally jealous.

When you leave, he has dozens of chocolate frogs, sugar quills, a gallon of rocky road no-melt ice cream, and the Thunderbolt VII, which is the best souvenir.

Ghost

“So, an all-wizarding village? Impressive.” On the outside, he keeps his usual indifferent attitude, but on the inside, he’s excited. An entire village full of magic.

While Price avoids the Hog’s Head, he heads straight into it and orders a firewhisky, loving the unique burning sensation that comes as it hits the back of his throat. You try to convince him to leave since the smell is strong enough to be smelled from the outside, but he just shrugs and keeps drinking.

He later asks if there’s anything you can do to get the smell out of his clothes and cast several spells that make the smell disappear and he thanks you.

He later gets kicked out when he breaks a witch’s hand after she called you a Mudblood. Aberforth kicks him out to appease his other customers, but gives him an approving nod and a few bottles. He later joins the rest of you at the Three Broomsticks, deflecting all Soap’s questions for leaving. “Price needs help babysitting you idiots. And Merlin’s too young to be a chaperone.”

He honestly couldn’t care less about souvenirs. Sure, the free bottles of firewhisky are great, but he wasn’t looking for useless trinkets to have to drag back home. Of course, you couldn’t let him walk away with nothing and bought him a custom made balaclava that can not be torn by non-magically means. “That’ll save me a fortune on masks. Thanks, kid.” Under his mask, he’s blushing.

Soap

Come on, you know this guy lost his ever-loving mind when you arrived. Like, it took Price AND Ghost to restrain him. “Johnny, for fuck’s sake, people are staring!” “But that place is an owl post office, LT! Owl post office!”

Finally, after five minutes, he finally calmed down enough to be let go, but he was still so excited that he grabbed and dragged you to each shop and had you explained what it sold. “You have a wand shop here, too?! Can we go in?!”

When you showed him Madam Snelling’s Tress Emporium, he had his mohawk touched up. Of course, he couldn’t resist to have something magical done to it. He walked out with his hair charmed with a variation of Colovaria, allowing it to change colors on its own. Price and Ghost their heads while Gaz goes in to do the same thing.

You already know his favorite store is going to be Zonko’s Joke Shop. As soon as you tell him that there’s a store that sells magical prank and joke items, he has you show him the way, leaving the rest of your friends behind. If you thought he was bad when you first showed up, he somehow gets worse at Zonko’s. He spends a good hour in their, going over everything for sale before walking out with armfuls of dungbombs, frog spawn soap, and a nose-biting teacup he was going to give Laswell (you later bought two sneakoscopes to give to Price and Ghost to help avoid Soap’s tricks going too far. You also promise to take Soap to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes for even more joke items.

Soap later finds out that his joke items are just as valuable in the field as they are off it. Enemies are easy pickings when they’re hacking away from the smell of a dungbomb, or it’s easy to sneak past guards when a bunch of frogs appear from out of nowhere.

He leaves Hogsmeade with so many joke items, it’s not even funny. He also helped himself to some candy from Honeydukes. Him and Gaz trade cards on the way home.

Alejandro

He’s awestruck when you arrive and Rudy has to bring him back to reality. “Dios mio. This village is amazing…”

He’s ecstatic like Soap, but he’s refined like Ghost; he keeps his excitement under control. He follows you down each street and listens to what you say, and if he asks questions if he has them. “And here we are at the Hogsmeade Post Office. Here, people can send and receive mail and packages via owls.” “Can you send mail anywhere using owls?” “Yes, magical owls are able to send mail to anywhere in the world.”

Him and Rudy go crazy at Honeydukes. Growing up, they didn’t have the chance to get candy whenever they wanted like their friends, so now they have the opportunity to get as much candy as they want. Alejandro’s favorite candy is the Fizzing Whizzbees, he loves to feel lighter than air for a few minutes while Rudy is crazy about no-melt ice cream; seriously, he gets triple scoops of different flavors.

They would pop into the Hog’s Head, but just long enough to buy a bottle of firewhisky to take home. After they have the bottle, they leave. “That smell… it’s not of this world…” After that, they’ll spend the rest of the trip at the Three Brromsticks

They would take home the bottle of firewhisky, several types of candy from Honeydukes, a few hiccouch sweets from Zonko’s, and a barrel of butterbeer, but that was Rudy’s decision. “Rudy, hermano, we don’t have the room for it…” “We’re make the room, damn it! Just, help me roll it…” You help by casting Reducio to make the barrel small enough to be put in a pocket.

König

This man was a bit overwhelmed when you first arrived, and understandably so. You talk him down from his mini panic attack, give him a calming drought you packed just in case, and gently led him down the streets. “Thank you, maus. This village is quite nice.”

If you decide to use this trip to stock up on your potion ingredients, he’ll 1000% carry the basket you fill up. He also loves it when you explain what each ingredient is and what it’s used for. Also asks if he can brew a potion by himself. Please let him, he’ll do a good job, he swears.

I can see him choosing Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop as his favorite shop in Hogsmeade. It’s away from the noisiest part of the village, it has a very calming atmosphere inside, and the tea is absolutely delicious. His favorite is a tea that’s enchanted to show the drinker’s happiest memory after a single sip. His is when he first joined KorTag and met Horangi, his best friend and the only one who believed he could become a sniper.

Of course, you had to tell him that the tea shop was known for being a popular place for dates. Fortunately, he wore his hood and it hid the nuclear red blush that covered his face. “A date! I mean, I would love to go on a date with you, maus! If we were dating! And I would be honored if you wanted to date me!”

After the incident, he starts to have daydreams about going on a date with you…

When it’s time to go home, he has a fancy teacup and several bags of that “memory tea” from the tea shop, a few pumpkin pasties from Honeydukes, and a collapsible cauldron from Ceridwen’s Cauldron so you can teach him how to brew his own calming drought.

[dirtyvulture]

😎 Happy Christmas Eve ( December 24th) or happy holidays!!!!!! Vulture what if one of the girls that were jealous of R STOLE Kit’s first kiss ? Because as you said that you don’t believe he would fully play with somebody like that as he wanted R to be his first…… ALL OF HIS FIRSTS ( back in the day women were EXPECTED to be virgins before they married but men …. They were “ expected” to be “ virgins” * cough in reality they could have done WHATEVER they wanted, even being spotted going in and out of business that had prostitutes / sex workers that was fine cough* ) and that included his first kiss.

He was being flirty and playful with other people , acting in a way that he didn’t with R . He didn’t want to act in that way towards R because she was so young and didn’t want to do anything that could affect her negatively. Kit never took the player attitude or flirting seriously because to him he wanted to practice his game , his romantic prowess for when R was older and it was closer to or was for the season that R was being presented and was eligible for marriage. It was all for the sake of courting and wooing R but without Kit being a flustered mess tripping all over himself so he had a better chance of getting R . Because while they were both told their whole lives it was greatly HOPED and EXPECTED it wasn’t set in stone as it’s not a arranged marriage so Kit was practicing everything out, because for him it was always R . Kit always promised that R and He would be family and be there for her no matter the choice she made ( it was very much the deal Jacob had with his imprinting in The Twilight Series except it wasn’t in the creepy ass way of it being a literal baby and a nearly grown or is a grown ass man but a person who is only three years older to a girl and their families had always been close. They themselves have always been close . It is everything shifted to R and Kit is to be anything and everything that R needs or needed ) . What if one day Kit was being that playful and flirty person but wasn’t planning on following through and at the sound of R’s laugh he IMMEDIATELY turns his head to that . R was sat in a shade of a tree resting on the tree reading the book that she and Kit so dearly loved ( the ones that R had gotten the name YN from and the name Laster that Kit takes up to play with R ) , Kit’s eyes and face softened a great deal that is a quite obvious to EVERYONE WITH EYES to see that he cares for her ….. that he is IN LOVE with her ( the only person who doesn’t know is R herself and that’s because she’s a kid) . The girl whom was talking to Kit sees this and she gets extremely jealous ( she is planning all the shit that she is going to talk about with all those other Bicthes , that was the shit will send R in a tailspin that the girls didn’t know that R was overhearing) because HOW DARE this scrawny sickly immature little girl capture the attention of Quincy and she ( R) WASN’T EVEN TRYING so the jealous girl grabs Kits shirt and then his face kissing him.

So since it’s Christmas Eve let’s do some thoughts. I think the last Christmas gift that Kit gave R the latest book of the series of books that they both love . The last gift that R gave Kit was a pocket watch ( it would be his first and it was his last one because after R disappeared Kit never parted with the watch) as she told him “ As papa and pa always say , very gentleman needs a watch . You are starting your adult responsibilities, you are becoming a gentleman so you need a watch . Kitten”. Teddy bears weren’t invented or weren’t really around until 1902 or around that time so R didn’t have any when she little but they would still have dolls and interesting fact is that in the 19th century they used human hair for the dolls ( typically the hair of the girl that the doll is made for) . They also used to have boys and girls rised and dressed the same as babies and little kids … like toddler ages ( long hair and being dresses) up until ( I am not entirely sure but until the age of 7 ) then they had this thing called  breeching (that is were they learned to put on pants or breeches ) and then have their long hair cut . I think that when Kit had his long hair cut he wanted to gave his hair to make a doll for R . R loved that doll and slept with it up until that night that Thomas Logan broke in …… the doll was found on the floor with a pool of blood around it from when R dropped it ( R dropped the doll when she saw the body of her papa ) . But let’s not dwell on that because it’s CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!

R of Both the DK and SB AU LOVE the old Christmas movie specials ( Frosty the Snowman,  Rudolph the Red Nose Renideer , The Year without a Santa Clause , It’s a Wonderful Life, etc) , a lot of the other movies that are classics like the Home Alones ( Scarlett Johansson is actually in one of the Home Alone movies, the four one ….. little Scarlett Johansson plays the older sister of Alex the boy of that movie whom was left alone for that movie) . As much as they are romantics I don’t know if they ( both Rs of the DK and SB ) could deal with the hallmarks Christmas movies, but they love and can’t convince them that Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie ( SB’s Nat agrees with SB and is delighted that Sb loves that movie and happily watches it . I don’t know if DK’s Nat has ever seen it) . The last few thoughts I have for the night. The Night Before Christmas came out in 1823 , *so R probably grew up with her father John reading it in front of the fireplace with all of the socklings hanging in front of it every Christmas Eve . Her family always having a HUGE BREAKFAST that R couldn’t open any presents beforehand. *

I don’t know if SB’s Nat and Yelena would have any family traditions regarding Christmas or the holidays and as seen in BW Nat didn’t really have Christmas or holidays so I don’t think DK Nat would have any , but Wolverine R would want to give her a good holiday and make good memories for Nat , for Rogue and everyone else. I think that the last Christmas she really celebrated was before she disappeared so it the Christmas of 1844…. That was until she celebrated it with Esther Hudson in the Christmas Truce of 1914 . After Esther made R celebrate with her and the Hudson’s also made celebrate with them afterwards. After weapon x , the death of her old friend and forgetting the Hudsons R hasn’t celebrated Christmas since ( She left the school / Rogue roughly a year ago so maybe that was before/ after the holiday season of that year and wasn’t there to celebrate it with the X- Men / the school)

* Those two thoughts of the father reading The Night Before Christmas and the whole huge breakfast before opening presents are thoughts that are based upon actual traditions of my own family. Dad would read that book every Christmas Eve ( does a humongous reading and a actual reading of the book) and makes a huge breakfast that we have to eat before we go open gifts ( it was torture when I was younger but it really does make the day last longer) . We open gifts one at a time and we have a garbage bag that we put in the wrapping paper IMMEDIATELY after opening a gift ( makes clean up easier) .

Well good night , merry Christmas and happy holidays!!!!!!!! Love to all !!!!!!!!

I am answering this very late, but Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you too anon!

Not you bringing the Jacob and Renesmee thing into this, as much as I do enjoy Twilight let's leave their mess out of this AU lol. I don't know why it makes me laugh every time you remind us that Wolvie!R was a scrawny and sickly little twig because she turned into such a lovely but grumpy beefcake lmao. I'm sure little R was bullied by those girls a lot too (not physically though, because she probably would've snapped in half).

Do you think R would have ever returned somehow and found the doll again?

I think Sergeant Beef is secretly a big fan of the Hallmark channel. Wolvie!R...not so much. I also don't think Wolvie!R is much into holidays, probably because it reminds her of how lonely her life is/was. But now that she has Nat, maybe her mind will change on that...

Those sound like fun Christmas traditions! I hope you had a good holiday this year as well!

[yetanotherfanficblog]

A New Dawn

Pact Commander Siggi Vilodsdottir woke up at her usual early morning time, but the light peeking through the flap of her tent was - different. Wait, of course. Sun's Refuge. The exhaustion of actually getting the damn place up, or just leftover grogginess from her first night of decent sleep in ages, had momentarily made her forget, to expect the sun outside her tent flap.

No, these were caves, and it would be cave living for a while. As they formulated a way to take care of Kralkatorrik, they had made the subterranian lair their home - The massive Elder Dragon could never dig this deep, and even his smaller minions would find themselves hard pressed to pass through the narrow redoubts and defeat the magical defenses left by Sunspears past - now reactivated in service of Sunspears present - so here they remained, for the moment. The light from the giant braziers, reflected off the crystals, natural and brand alike, embedded in the walls, certainly made for adequate light, but it wasn't quite the same as the wide, wild sun.

Still, If anyone knew how to live without the sun, it was the Norn.

Pulling on a Jerkin, Siggi stood and threw back the flap of her tent, eager to find something to break her fast - perhaps the foragers had found some good venison - when she nearly tripped over it. A wreath.

A wild grin broke across her face. That dork. He was really going to do this proper, wasnt he? She reached down, ready to pluck it off the ground, but about halfway there, she hesitated as something caught her attention, a quick movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked up. Yes. There, behind that rock column. Trying VERY hard, and failing nearly as hard, to look inconspicious, was Braham Eirrson himself.

She hesitated, not out of second thoughts, but just because the boy could probably stand to sweat a bit. Good for his humility. Wasn't right for a Norn to hold a grudge long as he did.

Then again, she was Norn too, huh? And there was another way to handle this...

Finally, she turned back into her tent - but only for a moment, snatching up her best travelling stein. As she exited again, she saw Braham, who had been hunched over, suddenly straight again, looking desperately, wildly at her.

She plunked the stein down in the center of the wreath, crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow at him. Braham coughed, nodded, and slunk off.

***

A few hours later, after she'd had a chance to eat and answer about 1000 different questions from various Pact Officers and Sunspears, help out a few Refugees, and discuss possible dragon tracking measures with Taimi and her boys, she finally came to the Vigil tents, where everyone had pooled what alcohol they had for a kind of tavern of sorts, a place to go to take a break, relax, and, if needed get just a bit drunk, to take the edge off. Braham was sitting at the end of one of the longer, less populated benches, and Siggi stopped at the the makeshift bar just long enough to grab their first round - Iron Legion Ale, Charr Beer. Almost as good as Ice Ale from the Wayfarer Foothills, in a pinch. As She walked up to Braham, Steins balanced in hand, he had just finished glaring down a poor Vigil soldier who looked like they were coming to sit across from him. Siggi chuckled, more at Braham's seriousness than the poor Soldier's misfortune, and easily slipped in across from the other Norn.

"Hey Kid. Shake off the Spiders yet?"

"What!? N- I mean Yes- I mean, it's fine why would I care about Spiders? We killed them all! Er, we did kill them all, right?"

Siggi couldn't help herself, breaking into an uproarius laugh at Braham's attempts to keep a slight panic under control, "I'm sorry Braham, I just teasing! If there's any spiders left, I'd imagine they're staying hidden for good, after the drubbing we gave their queen."

Braham nodded, blushing slightly with embarassment, "Oh. Yeah, It's fine. Spiders are gone."

Siggi pushed one of the steins toward Braham, "Iron Legion Ale. Not as good as a good Wayfarer Ice Brew, but beggars can't be choosers."

Braham took the Stein gratefully and took a huge gulp straight away. Siggi smirked again and followed suit.

As they set their mugs down, Braham cleared his throat, "So. How many mugs of these do you think we'll need to put this behind us?"

"Eh," Siggi waved a hand dismissively, "It's all snowmelt, far as I'm concerned. I forgave you a long time ago, just needed you to come around."

Poor Braham made a confused face, "Then Why not take the wreath in?"

"Listen," Siggi continued, with a small smile, "I gave you the Stein in the wreath for a couple reasons. One, I wanted an excuse to drink, and two, it's been way too long since we just sat down and TALKED, you know?"

"Oh. Yeah. I guess it has, huh?"

So they talked, avoiding the subject of their fight for the moment, speaking of Braham's adventures in the High Shiverpeaks, of Siggi's own adventures combating Balthazar - most of it he had heard second hand, but he wanted to hear it from Siggi. Ale after Ale appeared before them, and by the time conversation wound down, Siggi could confidently declare herself pleasantly tipsy, warm and buzzing down to her toes, and judging by Braham swaying on the bench across from her, he was somewhere in the same steading.

"Huh," he chuckled, "Imagine if I hadn't been such a Dolyak's ass. Could have helped you take down a human God. That would have been something to see."

Siggi chuckled, "Maybe. Then again, I did have to die to do it."

Braham frowned, "And maybe if I was there, I could have stopped him from killing you. I AM sorry, Commander..."

"Hey." Siggi set down her stein again for a moment, staring seriously across the table, "Already forgiven, remember? Wreath-sworn. Besides, Losing a parent affects a lot of us pretty badly."

"Hell. Losing my Mom probably affected you, huh?" Braham murmured, staring at the table, "I've been thinking about that, lately. She was your mentor. You two hunted together, built a legend together, she even sponsored you into the Pact."

Siggi nodded, "Yeah. She was... special, to me."

"And you kept on anyway."

"I did. I had a lot of people to save. If I had stopped to mourn her, how many more would have been lost?"

Braham took an especially long swig of ale after that, stared off into the middle distance.

"I... wonder if maybe the real problem was... I was jealous of you. You were closer to her than I was. Eir handpicked you as a champion of the great hunt. She recommended you to the orders, sheparded you until you were a force to defeat an elder dragon on your own. Hell, she was almost more of a Mom to you than she was to me."

Siggi raised an eyebrow, "C'mon, I'm not THAT much younger than her. Eir was more like..."

Siggi paused for a moment. Her mind flitted back, as it often did, to a certain night by a campfire, a night in while the bitter cold of the Shiverpeaks pierced even the hardy hides of the norn, and they found it prudent to share a bedroll for warmth. But then, prudency gave way to an awareness of bare skin touching skin, of a desire that no longer seemed worth hiding. No, Braham wasn't ready for that story. She wasn't sure she'd ever share that with anyone else anyway.

"...Let's just say, cool older sister?"

Braham chuckled, "Huh. yeah, that makes sense. And I guess I'd describe you the same way."

"That's me, cool older sister to thousands of squabbling pact children." Siggi raised her stein one last time and drained the current contents, a far-too-weak human brew. Really had to strengthen the supply lines here if they were already down to the human-brewed stuff, she thought absent-mindedly.

[krissiebucks]

Thoughts~

For the first time ever my tl on Twitter is nearly void of any SHINee content. It’s like the entire fandom took a break. Instead I’m seeing shawols rt memes and random stuff. It’s a difficult time rn. It looks like the members aren’t going to speak out over this issue. So it’s really awkward and questionable. I know lots of babywols are going to leave, I’ve seen a couple turn into other fandom accounts but this is going to have to be a ‘time will only tell’ type of situation for me personally.

I know KR is behind the times when it comes to some social justice issues such as women’s rights and racism/prejudice so the colorists remarks might not even seem like a big deal other there. But the members are big public figures who have become role models in the industry and have fans all over the world. I seriously wish the editors would have left this part out. I know in the past MINHO has talked and reassured shawols on bbl over his frequent golf trips about making sure to wear sunblock which is pretty sad that he has to reassure everyone he’ll do his best to not get any darker. The issue with colorism runs deep in EAST ASIA many SOUTH ASIANS have spoken out against this type of behavior for years. Being an older kpop fan growing up in the beginnings of 2nd gen idols I’ve seen this joke played out numerous times. It’s absolutely disappointing that this type of behavior continues to go on. Even if it was played off as a “joke” it’s no excuse. Out of all the things to say, they had to bring this up. I wish it was easier to just move on and forget but this is going to sit with me for awhile. I never held a idol to high regards like I did in the past so my image of the boys hasn’t changed much. I know they are not perfect human beings with a heart of gold. No such person exists, so as I said before I was just have to wait and see. Being an older shawol I’ve been through other scandals the boys have faced. Some were accountable with immediate reflection and others completely ignored as outage was only really seen among international fans. This might just be another one of those times where the outrage is too far from home.

We need to do better as a fandom. KR shawols should have also spoken out against this behavior to bring awareness to the boys that this is inappropriate and unacceptable in this day and age. International shawols spoke up and helped bring awareness for the awful venue selection, why is this any different. Holding the boys accountable should be a priority for the fandom we should want them to do better. I don’t believe people have to demand anything from them I just want the message of disappointment and concern to reach them so that they can unlearn and want to better themselves in the future. Dragging them over a moment that to them might have seemed absolutely harmless will just make things worse. It might put the members off from ever wanting to change said behaviors or even interact with international fans in the future (take Taemin’s live and how awkward it was) The entire situation is absolutely disheartening. I hope they see fan’s disappointment and realize they unintentionally hurt many people. Shawols are doing their best they can right now. This is not an easy topic, but the boys schedules will still move forward whether they acknowledge it or not. I completely understand the frustration and exodus the fandom may go through. Only time will tell.

[tsu-kitty]

𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒾𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓂𝒶 𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓰𝒾𝓃𝓮

♡ wc › 1.0k

♡ contains › tsukishima x reader, fem!reader, volleyball player!reader, reader get hit on by a random guy, tsuki rescues reader. reader and tsuki are in their second year.

♡ summary › it's the interhigh tournament and you're a member of a girl's volleyball team at karasuno. tsukishima saves you from getting hit on by another player.

♡ a/n › my first fic on this blog! i hope everyone likes it. not proof read.

Don't get involved… Don't get involved… It's none of your business…

Having chosen to use the furthest bathrooms from the main courts of the Interhigh Tournament in order to avoid lining up, Tsukishima expected the halls to be deserted. And they were initially, but on his way back to the team, Tsukishima heard an obnoxious male voice and a quieter female voice echoing from a nearby turn off.

“I'm flattered, but I'm not interested, sorry,” said the quiet female voice.

“Oh, come on, sweetness,” replied the male. “I'm hot, you're hot, we'd make a great couple.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes as he passed the hall the voice came from. He hated guys that were full of themselves. He pitied the poor girl this arrogant guy was hitting on. She should just tell him to piss off.

“I'm serious.” Her voice shook ever so slightly. “I'm not interested.”

“I can make you interested,” said the guy.

Tsukishima paused just before the left turn where the two voices originated. Don't get involved, Tsukishima.

Curiosity got the better of him though, his eyes flicking down the hall as he walked past. Despite intending not to stop, the sight of the girl made him freeze. Her uniform was black and orange with a bright white number 6 on the back under the words “Karasuno High School”.

It was you.

Whilst most of the Karasuno girls team barely crazed the tip of his consciousness, you were somewhere floating in the middle. Not someone he thought about all day everyday, but someone that made semi-regular appearances in his life.

This was mostly due to the fact you were in his class both this year and the last. There were other moments that made you memorable, though. Like the first time you met, when you quite literally walked into him on the first day of school. Or the time you tripped down the stairs and fell onto him midway through the year. Then there were the times you and your team cheered on his.

Tsukishima and you had interacted enough for him to know that you were somewhat shy and awkward, but nonetheless kind and joyful. You weren't the type to like obnoxious guys like the one currently hitting on you.

You also smelt like strawberries—real ones, not the artificial flavouring—which Tsukishima really liked. Not that he'd ever admit that.

Watching you now, the way you tugged your shorts down and crossed your arms over your torso, the way your weight shifted from foot to foot, Tsukishima could easily tell you were not enjoying the interaction. That was enough for him to decide to intervene.

“You're so cute when you're nervous,” the unknown boy snickered. “It makes me want you more.”

Your stomach churned with anxiety. “Please go away. I'm seriously not interested.”

“Don't say that, sweetness.” He reached his hand towards your waist.

You flinched away before he could touch you, but to your shock and dismay, you hit a hard body. Eyes wide with panic, you spun, ready to make a quick apology then run for your life.

“Is this guy bothering you, Y/N?” It was Tsukishima Kei, the blonde boy that sat behind you in class.

This boy… you seemed to always be—quite literally—running into him. Not that you minded too much. He was undeniably handsome: fair skin, sharp jaw and nose, short and slightly wavy blonde hair, gorgeous amber eyes behind a pair of black rimmed glasses. You had to admit, you'd had a small crush on him since first year.

A wave of relief washed over you. His timing couldn't be more perfect.

As well as his intelligence and height, Tsukishima was known for his sour attitude. He was witty and sharp-tongued, borderline rude at times, but that was exactly what you needed right now.

“Yes,” you breathed. You met Tsukishima's gaze and hoped your expression conveyed your desperate situation to him. “Yes, he is bothering me.”

Behind his glasses, Tsukishima's eyes flicked between yours, reading the silent panic in them. He broke the eye contact to cast a disdainful look over the unknown boy.

“You hear that, pipsqueak?” Tsukishima said, tilting his head to the right. “You're bothering her. So, piss off.”

You couldn't help but smile at the insult Tsukishima threw at the other boy. He wasn't really that short, about average height maybe, but Tsukishima was easily a head taller than him.

“Pipsqueak?” spat the boy. “Who the hell are you calling pipsqueak?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “You, obviously.” Then he smirked and your heart skipped a beat. “You're not very bright, are you?”

The other boy's face turned tomato red. “You little shit.”

“How intelligent,” Tsukishima deadpanned, turning away. “Come on, Y/N. Let's get out of here.”

He started walking and you tried to follow, but a hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Wait up, sweetness—”

In one long step, Tsukishima was back at your side, ripping the stranger's hand off you. “How thick is your skull? You're bothering her, so we're leaving.”

The glare on Tsukishima's face sent a shiver down your spine. Placing a gentle hand at the small of your back, he made sure you were a step in front of him as he guided you away. The warmth from his touch radiated throughout your body. For such a boy with such a cold personality, he was surprisingly warm.

“Thank you, Tsukishima,” you said quietly as the two of you walked.

“You need to work on rejecting people,” was his curt reply.

You almost snorted. “That sounds awful.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “Not as awful as watching you get hit on.”

For the second time today, your heart skipped a beat. What did that mean? Awful as in pitiful? Awful as in gross? Why would it be awful? What about seeing you get hit on was awful?

“Y/N! Tsukishima!”

You had reached the place where your teams had set down their bags, both your captain and his waving you over. Tsukishima retracted his hand, quickly tucking it into his pocket. You turned your head to him, but he was gone, mumbling to Yamaguchi and throwing his headphones on.

Why are you so elusive, Tsukishima?

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then heard a weird musical sting, and looked over at Smiler to realize they were absolutely Hysterical from all this fun. AKA, one good giggle fit away from death. D: I quickly got them away from the games to chat with Victor, who laid a Heat Of The Moment kiss on them as a distraction. XD Once they’d gotten their flirt on a bit, I had Smiler go calm themselves down in the bathroom mirrors (never mind they have no reflection to do so) -- once they were safely just Very Inspired, I then let them hop on the DDR machine while Victor shot some hoops at the basketball machine. As my game threw out ANOTHER barista-related error. *grumbles* I don’t know if that’s the game, one of my mods, or what, but seems I’m gonna have to be careful playing for a while...

-->And then I looked at the date timer, saw that they only had thirty minutes left, and was like “crap, forget the games, finish socializing, do more cute things together!” XD Fortunately they were more than amenable to kissing and flirting some more, and the date ended with them having reached Gold level as well, yay! Not like I need those VIP buckets, but fuck it, we can recycle them or something. I just wanted my boy and my enby to have a good time.

-->With that date done, it was time to send the pair home, where I found Alice, still in werewolf form, sitting on the couch watching some classic Sims TV. Which gave me an idea – VICTOR had already fulfilled the “watch Romantic TV” tradition I slapped on the holiday a while back, but Alice and Smiler hadn’t. And despite the fact it was past midnight, the holiday wasn’t quite over yet (they don’t end until 2 AM the next morning). So I had Alice turn off the classics, let out a somber howl to keep her Fury down, change back into her human form, then put on the Romance channel before sending Victor and Smiler over to join her on the couch. Holiday ended with the three of them hanging out for a while, watching goofy medical dramas and doing a little bit of flirting, before Smiler got up and left Alice and Victor to it while they made a drink over at their bar in the party barn. XD At least they all had an extremely successful Love Day!

*whew* Yeah, that was a bit more chaotic than I wanted – at least for Victor and Alice, at any rate! Seriously – I can get that the problems with them getting their food was because the cafe’s probably a little too small and was built with form over function in mind, but the FUCK was with townies just randomly flirting with Alice?! Like I said, that didn’t happen on Victor and Smiler’s date – everyone just left them alone! Does Alice have some sort of setting on her that makes townies think it’s okay to get up close and personal on her, because I have GOT to turn that off if so. Talk about the most unAlice thing ever... But at least I got my two good dates in the end. Next time, we wrap up in-game spring with another trip to Van Liddelton Groceries! The gang filled the shelves, and now we have to empty them. See you then!

[luminnara]

Bikini Body | Billy Hargrove x Reader PT 1

Warnings: body image stuff and some vague bullying

Part 2! (Nsfw👀)

I’m open for requests! Just send an ask!

Tags: @smenny @infinitelyforgotten @littlewinter1917

The community pool in Hawkins was a usual summer hangout spot. Everyone from middle aged parents to their bratty kids to teens and young adults tended to flock there on especially hot Indiana summer days, and today, you had begrudgingly agreed to join your friends for an afternoon in the sun.

It really wasn’t your idea of a good time. It wasn’t that you hated swimming or tanning or even just enjoying the heat, it was more that…well, the public pool was pretty public, and you…kind of weren’t.

“Are you really wearing that?” One of your friends asked, sounding exasperated as she stretched out on a chair.

���…yes. Why?” You asked, knowing exactly why.

She glanced at you before rolling her eyes and putting her shades on. “You’re seriously going to pass out if you wear that much clothing.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” you mumbled, looking down at your shorts. They were baggy and reached your mid thigh, loose enough to leave absolutely everything to the imagination.

“I don’t get why you want to cover up so much,” another one of your friends said as she flipped onto her stomach to tan her back. “I mean, the cutest lifeguard in the state works here, and I know damn well I want him to look…”

Everyone sighed in agreement and all at once, their heads swiveled to look at the lifeguard in question. You looked, too, and what you saw was Billy Hargrove, the local bad boy heartthrob, standing in the sun like he knew what a golden glow it gave him. He was always full of himself, preening like a bird, working all of his best angles while he flirted with the hot girls (and moms) at the pool.

Too bad you didn’t really count as either of those.

“Seriously, do you ever wear anything besides that big baggy shirt?” One of your friends scoffed as she laid back against her chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything else.”

“Didn’t we agree that you were going to wear a bikini for once?” Another asked.

You shrugged and looked away. “Didn’t really feel like it. That’s all.”

“Right,” she rolled her eyes and then looked towards the others. “So, Cindy, you catch Steve Harrington at Starcourt? He’s selling ice cream now…”

And that was your cue to zone out. You liked your friends, you really did, but ever since graduation and the start of summer, they’d started putting a lot more emphasis on the pool and bikinis. You actually did put yours on, and had almost convinced yourself to take the plunge and wear it out in public…but then, at the last minute before Cindy swung by to pick you up, you had grabbed your shirt and trunks like always.

You knew that walking around in a swimsuit wouldn’t kill you. Logically, you knew it wouldn’t even be that big a deal…but you didn’t really want to, because you didn’t really want the attention that would come with baring so much skin. Was it a confidence thing? Was it something else? You didn’t really know, because you never really thought about it that much, but it was something.

You kind of wished you wanted to sit around in bikinis, especially as you looked over at the row of middle aged moms all wearing their newest suits and ogling Billy Hargrove. You could see the appeal; you had gone to school with him for your senior year, and you thought he was absolutely gorgeous. Of course, you had never really talked to him, because why would you? How would you? He had girls like Carol and Tina tripping over themselves for him, and you were busy…not doing that. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. It was just…why would he want you around? You probably weren’t his type anyways.

You glanced over at him as he sat in his lifeguard chair. Yeah, he was handsome. He looked downright amazing, actually, with a mane of golden hair and a torso that was covered in either sweat or oil or maybe both. He was just as nice a sight as he always was, as he sat there chewing on his gum and blowing his whistle and yelling at kids.

You had to look away before your face got hot enough for anyone else to notice.

“I’m getting a drink,” you mumbled, climbing out of your chair and heading towards the vending machine over by the locker rooms.

Stupid pool.

Stupid sexy Billy Hargrove.

You walked up to the machine, intent on buying a cold Coke to help distract yourself. When you dug through your pockets for change, however, you found that you were coming up short, and you groaned in defeat.

Great.

Now you couldn’t even get a drink.

This. This was why you didn’t like coming to the public pool. Why couldn’t you have friends with pools in their backyards? That would be way better than this. You’d be free of vending machines and lifeguards and maybe you’d even show off a bikini.

“Hey, you good?” One of your friends called as you walked back towards them.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved your hand dismissively. “I’m fi—“

You were cut off by a sharp shove and a yelp, and the yelp was coming from your own mouth. A moment later, you hit the water, and as welcome as it felt on your sweaty skin, you were not a fan of the fact that you were soaked.

“Hey!” You sputtered as you broke the surface again, blinking water out of your eyes as you glared up at the side of the pool. “What the hell was that?”

You saw two boys standing there, probably in junior high, wearing shit eating grins as they snickered at your misfortune. Your expression immediately darkened, and the look you gave them as you started hauling yourself out of the water was dangerous enough that they ran.

“Get the fuck back here!” You snarled after them. “You little—hey! I’m talking to you!”

Your voice was drowned out by the sound of a whistle, and you didn’t need to turn around to know that it belonged to Billy. As you pulled yourself out of the pool, you could hear him yelling at them, threatening to ban them for life if they did it again. You figured he just liked the power rush.

You didn’t realize he was pissed off for your sake.

Billy Hargrove had been watching you for a while, ever since you got up to hunt for a drink. He didn’t really know you, but he knew of you, and honestly, when he saw you walk in with your friends, he had been more than a little curious about your body. One of his favorite parts of the lifeguard gig was getting to check girls out, even if he didn’t like half of them. When he saw you in that big shirt and shorts, though, he was disappointed, and a little part of him thought that it was absolutely hilarious that those kids had just pushed you in.

Even if he did think it was shitty, and he was pissed that they did it to you, and he was pissed that they didn’t seem to understand that this was his pool.

“Are you okay?” Your friend, Cindy, asked as you stood before everyone, soaked to the bone. They were all sitting up in alarm now, glaring daggers at the stupid kids who had seen fit to fuck with you.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled, trying to wring out your shirt. “This blows…”

“Hun, you’ve gotta take it off,” one of them clicked her tongue. “You’ll be miserable wearing all that.”

You looked down at the amount of water dripping from your clothing and sighed. She was right.

It was time to admit defeat.

“Fine,” you peeled the wet fabric away, tossing your shorts and shirt in a pile near the rest of your stuff.

It felt weird to be so exposed, even though your friends were exclaiming and oohing and ahhing over you. Your bikini wasn’t the most fashionable, but it was fairly small…and now, absolutely nothing was left to the imagination, and Billy Hargrove couldn’t stop staring.

Holy shit.

What a fuckin’ body.

Now that was something he could literally get behind.

His whistle fell from his lips as he watched you awkwardly trying to pick at your tiny bikini as if it could somehow give you more coverage. It was plain, sure, not as bright as Mrs. Wheeler’s new suit, but you had definitely caught his eye, and he wasn’t looking away anytime soon.

And…hang on a second, was that a tattoo on your hip?

Shit.

He had no idea you looked so fucking good. This entire time he could have been hitting on you, working on getting to know you, maybe making you his girl…and he had almost let all that potential slip away.

Your friends were staring at you, eyes nearly popping out of their heads.

“What?” You snapped, sitting down in your chair.

“You look…” Cindy trailed off.

“Amazing!” Abby finished.

“When the hell did you get a tattoo?” Maria asked.

You just felt your cheeks flush and slid down in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to figure out how to simply sink into the ground and not have to deal with anyone. This was exactly what you had thought you could avoid.

“Oh my god,” you heard Cindy whisper. “He’s looking.”

“Who?” You asked tiredly, daring to glance up.

You didn’t expect to suddenly lock eyes with Billy Hargrove. He was watching you like a hawk, very obviously checking you out, even as you drew your knees up and tried not to exist.

“Fuck,” he groaned, already knowing he was hooked. “Fuck me.”