#sometimes. we only need 1 (one) guy to say the thing. not twenty different guys to varying levels of aggression and condescension

[snekdood]

i think until theres some sort of moderation on social media sites to prevent dog piling, this shits always gonna turn super toxic

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's Reviews- My Two First Loves

Welcome to the twenty-seventh official Cadybear's Reviews! Today I'll be talking about My Two First Loves, which I have ranked on the "Rotting Flesh Tier" at 2 stars out of a possible 10. My last and only playthrough of this was back in April-June 2021.

Oh boy! Oh boy oh boy oh boy! I could write a whole essay on everything wrong with this…  

So I will. 

To put it briefly: this story feels like it was adapted from a Wattpad story that was written by a 12-year-old whose only ever exposure to high school media and depictions of teenage sexuality was Glee, and then had serious queer and mature themes slapped onto it in order to make it seem better. Y’know, the equivalent of trying to polish a turd.

Or, heck, it’s probably PB’s attempt at ripping off “The Kissing Booth”, seeing as both have a MC in a love triangle between her childhood best friend and a bad boy named Noah, after all. Which, funnily enough, was also originally adapted from some tween’s Wattpad story. That’s about the equivalent to a dog eating some rotten food, shitting it out, then another dog finds it, eats it, and then shits it right out again. And THEN that second dog’s owner comes along to try to polish that double-toured turd. 

Number 1: The LGBTQ+ tag is clearly an attempt to appease the queer players that they probably think are being whiny. 

Ava’s arc about realizing she’s a lesbian who had been experiencing compulsory heterosexuality is pretty solid in a vacuum. But her being an LI was so blatantly only a last-minute decision PB made during the writing process, and it shows because Ava’s CG just uses her game sprite while Mason’s and Noah’s are fresh art. 

MC starts to fall for Ava sometime around at least 30 chapters in, but we don’t get to officially pursue her as a romance option until about 70 chapters in. I get delaying her as a love interest a bit because of the whole thing with MC realizing she’s bi, but even then, there’s just so few opportunities for building any kind of relationship with her that it hardly feels authentic. 

Speaking of, MC’s supposed bi awakening is completely rushed and treated with about as much value as a Family Guy cutaway gag, even outside of Ava being sidelined. As someone who realized I wasn’t straight three years ago and is still questioning if I’m bi or straight, I understand that people take different amounts of time to figure out their sexuality. But this MC does not spend any period of time figuring out her bisexuality. She basically just goes “Welp, guess I’m bi now”, and then it’s back to being indecisive as per usual except now there’s a female love interest in the mix too.

To add insult to injury, "discussions of sexuality" is placed in a "player discretion" warning, alongside "racial tensions" and "occasionally violence" to boot. How the fuck is discussion of sexuality even remotely on the same level as either of those? If they meant discussions or depictions of homophobia then maybe I could understand… but I don’t even recall seeing any depictions of homophobia in the book, so including this in the freaking warning tags is pointless at best and kind of insulting at worst. 

Not to mention, plenty of other Choices books like MOTY, ILS, D&D, etc. have had discussions about sexuality/LGBTQ+ stuff before, and didn't have to warn us about it. Not even MAH, a later book which had discussions about freaking conversion therapy for Christ’s sake. Sure, some of those books did have content warnings, but they were generally vague and/or mainly warned for violence, and didn’t warn specifically for depictions of queerphobia or discussions of sexuality. Yet for some reason, MTFL feels the need to include a player discretion warning for sexuality discussions, even though it contains far less harsher queer themes. 

Number 2: The portrayal of teen sexuality in this does not feel earnest. 

Let me just say, I found it very jarring how this one was much more sexually charged compared to PB’s other high school books. PB is usually way more “safe” and PG-13 at most when writing high school characters. Even in books like ROD and WEH, where the characters are 18+ and do have smutty scenes, it’s clear that those books are a lot more restricted compared to the adult cast books.  

I mean, with WEH, the safeness makes sense– it was meant to be a serious and tender story from the start, and it does actually follow through on those themes. But ROD feels like it could have easily been as horny with its writing as MTFL was, what with being about a studious “good girl” who goes rebellious. In fact, the story’s loading screen was pretty infamous at first for looking “steamier” than other covers and loading screens.

In actuality though, ROD had only, what, one smut scene? And despite a lot of MC’s outfits being revealing or arguably sensual, there are practically no moments where MC fawned over how “sexy” a revealing diamond outfit looked. Like, I’m pretty sure there were just little to no sexually charged scenes in general. 

My point is, whatever compelled PB to make MTFL *this* sexualized is beyond me. My guess is the fact that PB called this one a story about “navigating sexuality” and thus wanted to focus more on the aspects of sexuality, but if that’s the case… hoo boy, did they do a terrible job at it. 

I don’t really care about the hypersexualized writing of the teenage characters on its own, or how the characters were initially not confirmed 18+ when the earlier smut scenes were written. What I find far more important is the fact that this sort of cliche and formulaic hypersexualized writing is in a book that markets itself as being about “a young woman navigating love and sexuality for the first time”.

Teens do indeed have sex and can be all over the place with their hormones and sexuality. A lot of us have been there in some way, myself included. And there are ways to talk about that type of stuff in a manner that is silly and/or exaggerated, but still earnest and respectful. But the particular way that MTFL handles super-horny teen sexuality, specifically while claiming to be a coming-of-age story, is neither earnest nor respectful. 

The way this story handles these sorts of topics is the writing equivalent to doing a surgery with Fisher-Price toy surgery tools. It’s genuinely difficult to take MC “navigating her sexuality for the first time” seriously when has to constantly blubber about how Mason and Noah are so muscular or how a diamond outfit has “naughty little thigh highs” or how she wants to do a “down and dirty” cheer routine with Ava for Mason and Noah. 

That last one especially feels like the kind of stuff we’d see more in a campy chick flick that doesn’t take itself seriously. Honestly, if this was a more campy high school book with the tone of DLS or the 2023 movie “Bottoms”, it probably wouldn’t be as glaring. But in a book that markets itself as a coming-of-age story, the tone feels completely off and the whole book honestly felt like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be. 

(Also, while we’re on this topic of MC’s premium outfits, I really fucking despise how MC gets so upset about wearing "mom clothes" if you choose to wear the free modest clothing instead of the revealing diamond outfit in Chapter 2. Ugh. Yes, the dad was being shitty about not letting MC dress how she likes, but all it does is it just makes you feel like shit for not wanting to dress in more revealing clothes. Stop making me feel bad for wanting to wear simple non-revealing clothing. Same goes for you, Chris Romantic Getaway story with your “the regular jerseys aren’t cute enough for girls to wear, we have to cut one up into a cleavage crop top in order to make it good for us girls to wear” bullshit.) 

And it just slaps you in the face with these sexual moments too, placing them in frequently whenever it feels like it, and the amount of it that actually contributed to any coming-of-age navigating-sexuality are few and far between. Honestly, it felt like it was trying way too hard to look "mature" with how it handled sexuality (as well as some of the other stuff like them drinking alcohol). Like it maybe was trying to portray teens realistically, but it only does so at a very shallow level. 

It's literally just "Look at the teens that talk about sex and like doing sexy things and having sex and doing grown-up stuff like drinking alcohol, see how MATUUURRREEE they are!" and they don't do anything more with it. It's just tacked on so they can pretend their book is a realistic story about maturing/being mature, when it fails at actually doing so.

I mean, I guess you could argue that the MC is meant to be seen as more messy and hormonal. And in that case, I could give it a pass. But, again, MC’s supposed arc of “navigating sexuality” never goes anywhere from that until the very last few chapters where you choose which LI she ends up with. It’s pretty much the same crap all throughout the book. MC doesn’t navigate sexuality, she just runs around aimlessly in it like a chicken with its head cut off.

Number 3: All the serious themes they try to have in the story are overshadowed by MC’s stupid indecisiveness plot. 

I’ve already said MTFL tries way too hard to make its story seem “mature” with the trashy way it sexualizes its characters. I’ve said it feels like it doesn’t know what it wants to be. Honestly though, this just sums up MTFL’s writing in general. 

MTFL has quite a handful of subplots, and I will admit, all of them are pretty compelling. You have Ava figuring out she’s lesbian, Mack dealing with gang drama, and Mason and Noah dealing with their past and Mason’s dad’s abusive behaviors. And an admittedly decent arc about MC discovering her love for photography instead of cheerleading. 

And then you have MC going on about how she can’t decide between her love interests, which is just the bad apple of the bunch that ruins the rest. It just makes it very hard to take everything else seriously. You ever seen that one meme where the Power Rangers put their hands in a circle but then a Teletubbie tries to join in? It’s the writing-equivalent to that, and MC’s indecisiveness plot is the Teletubbie. 

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if MC’s indecisiveness wasn’t the main focus plot of the whole book. I want to take these other storylines seriously. I want to take this story as a whole seriously. But how can I when the main focus of the story is so god damn shallow? No matter how many "soft positive heartfelt" piano tracks and “so sad and tragic sad” piano tracks from WEH they try put over it, it doesn't change the fact that the focus is MC going on and on about being unable to choose between Mason, Noah, and Ava. 

I get teens are shallow and can have shallow issues, but did we really need it to be that big of a focus of the story? Especially when the way it handles it is completely empty? Something like OG HSS was great because even though a lot of the issues the characters had were seemingly shallow and basic (such as the band fighting over which song to play), they do give a little more depth to it and reason to care about it (ie. Aiden starts to feel like a failure at music because of the band infighting). MTFL just throws MC’s indecisiveness at you for 95 chapters and expects you to take it seriously with nothing else surrounding it. 

And they try to pull the twist on the title at the end where it’s all like “LI and photography, the two greatest loves of MC’s life”. Which is an interesting idea in concept, except it feels so artificial and non-earned when MC’s romance plot was spending 95 chapters being unable to decide between the LIs. 

Number 4: It reuses way too much from HSS. 

I know this is a less severe issue, but I just can’t get past it. Sprites, backgrounds, school colors… even plot points like the corrupt principal embezzling from the school, or MC and LI(s) being locked in a large school room (remember when HSS:CA MC and Ajay were locked in the auditorium?). Heck, even MC having lost her mom and having a photography passion connected to that, rings way too similar to one of Autumn’s arcs from the freaking HSS PRIME GAME! Oh yeah, and both of those characters have a love triangle with a golden boy and a bad boy. Holy hell. 

Easily the most noticeable part is the sprites. In my playthrough, I counted 7 whole HSS sprites that were used in MTFL: Sydney became Iris, Payton became Toni, Frank became this random kid in a flashback for Mason and Noah's past, Morgan became a kid in Elijah's gang named Lucy, Lorenzo became Chad, Aiden's mom became Asian Noah's mom, Skye's dad became White Mason's dad (PB really said use that sprite for abusive dads huh). And there’s probably more, I’m sure. 

And the worst offense? They even reuse the iconic bird's-eye view of Berry High in MTFL. Call me petty if you must, but that's just criminal. It's one thing to reuse and alter a bunch of the sprites, uniforms, and backgrounds from the series but to reuse another book series' iconic background like that? Honestly, it feels rather insulting. They couldn't even be arsed to change the "Go Tigers!" on the football field, that’s how little sense it makes to use that background outside of HSS. Fuck’s sake.

I know it’s kind of the norm for Choices to reuse assets throughout different series, but the fact that they do it so much here and majority of it is from HSS just rubs me the wrong way. At best, it’s jarring and lazy. And at worst, it comes off as trying way too hard to be a “more mature” version of HSS. When in reality, it makes HSS:CA’s side characters look like Citizen Kane in comparison. I mean, at least Clint and Natalie and MC stopped whinging about Rory ⅓rd of the way through the series. 

At least when other high-school-setting books like ROD, WEH, and ILITW were made, they at least somewhat bothered to change up a few things and make it feel like an actually different school. They changed up the backgrounds a bit, used different school colors and uniforms, and didn’t reuse nearly as many sprites from HSS.  

In MTFL, all they did was make new cheer uniforms for the non-reused sprites and remove the Berry High logos from everything HSS that they used. Yeah they made some changes, but it’s clear that they didn’t put nearly the same amount of effort into it as they did in the other high school setting books. 

All it does is just make me miss HSS. Like, stop toying with my heart by piggybacking off of a better series (that has better queer rep too) so much. It’s to the point where it feels like they should have just used the time making this book to instead make a HSS senior year (Which, y’know, would be nice, especially since the sendoff we got in HSS:CA 3 was absolute flaming fucking garbage). 

So… in all honesty, I don’t hate this book. But it had a lot of things that annoyed me to no end and it sure as fuck is disappointing wasted potential. It had a great opportunity to be a nice queer coming-of-age story. But instead it felt like a Kissing Booth rip-off with serious themes only hamfisted in order to make it seem more “mature”.

[acaciapines]

Your nanowrimo pieces are soooo goooood they hit so hard fr fr. I’m especially LOVING today’s one with the owl & the collector even tho I don’t rlly know that much abt toh bc I haven’t watched it but I can tell that u LOVE IT & I can’t wait to learn more thru osmosis once the fic is poooosteeeed✨ (i WILL read it i PROMISE i SWEAR)

Anyways give us the thoughts, the tea, tell us how you make the words do that✨ anything u wanna give in regards to today’s bit!! We’re not picky!

Hope y’all are doing okay! Gal says hi :) Remember to eat and drink something, take breaks, and look after yourselves and each other! We love you! This has been a Daily Interaction Ask <3

he he :3 im glad youre enjoying!! its been really fun to pick out my favorite bits even when usually those are the ones w/out context lol. look at my owl and weep boy. firefly <3

YOU WILL LEARN SO MUCH VIA OSMOSIS....literally now that im also doing something for s1 its like. why watch owl house we have owl house at home (the owl house at home is a 1 million word daemon au) (<- 1 mil is not a joke btw idk if it'll hit it but itll at least come very close. no idk why i did this.)

as for today! hmmm...

its truly so fun to write the collector. like im not joking about him being my favorite owl house character despite his maybe twenty total minutes of screentime, so its been such a JOY to expand his role in this series!!

bc like. god. actually i think i wrote a whole like. bit of flash fiction/prose poetry type thing for them a while ago. probably in my files somewhere. but just. youre an immortal eight year old. you are in these years where you need to interact with other people for your own mental stability and health. to figure out the whole Being A Person thing. and you are trapped for like, centuries. trapped away from everyone and everything and DUST, which, in universe, in literally connection personified. you're cut off from all of this.

and you are, let me say again, eight years old.

truly the collector is just. hes had everyone he ever cares about leave him--his siblings the other archivists left him behind not out of any sense of cruelty, really, but because caring about people just isnt really a thing they do. quite frankly they live so long they didnt even notice. theyre far-away stars. not far because they're mean. just because thats what stars do.

and then king's dad (who um. doesnt have a name <3 this is why the collector calls him 'the big bully' its literally bc i never gave him a name--) was an adult the collector actually trusted and looked up to (he meshed REALLY WELL into titan society until the archivists started Doing A Murder since titans are the only beings that match them in power and they have very very different ideas about dust). like ive said before the collector is owlbeastkin but before that they never had a super stable sense of identity--in another world where they stayed w/ the titans they wouldve ended up a titan.

and then king's dad just. trapped him in a tablet forever.

and like, to be fair to king's dad he was reacting out of fear and the best knowledge he had (he assumed the collector led the archivists to the titans, and like, he did, but its not like he knew he was doing that, and, you know, poor guy had seen a huge chuck of his fellow titans killed including babies and eggs of which he had an egg to consider), but it still TRAPPED THEM. and then he died and so did all the rest of the titans so nobody could free the collector even if they wanted to.

and then BELOS, who manipulated and lied to the collector for so long and was also literally his only friend after being alone forever, so like, of course the collector just blindly went along with whatever he said. he was gonna free them!! he listened to them when they talked about stardust which nobody else ever did! he had no idea what the fuck a witch was! he just liked being able to see the stardust sometimes, and belos brought him to places with a lot of stardust. to destroy it, but like--you know. it was THERE.

but all these people were just USING them, and they never really understand that until king comes around. and king's also a scared eight year old!! but like. king's also not wrong. the collector did aid belos in destroying the entire isles. like no joke belos SUCCEEDS here. like not long-term obvi this has a happy ending but at the point we're in at for the future? it doesnt matter that the draining spell failed. all the palistrom trees are dead. witch society Cannot come back from that even if they did end up beating the collector. theyre doomed.

anyways what was i saying. collector. right.

so like, then they meet firefly/grr-click-growl/wings-across-night/the owl beast (king of having so many names i love her <3) and shes like, the first person who cares for them and ISNT using them. even king is using them!! but firefly has seen Some Shit. she sees the collector as a hatchling who was kicked out of his nest and is doing her best to be some sort of stable figure for him, but she doesnt Not see the stuff he's done.

the collector took over the world bc he's scared--all he's ever known is being used and trapped so he doesnt exactly trust most people easily. firefly would Love to not be in this world anymore. shes also got a loyalty to eda and king and luzmari. and, like, cool motive, still trapping an entire society of people.

but like. shes the one who is here right now and nobody else is trying to help this kid.

but the collector just. hes just an eight year old. a very, very old eight year old. but he doesnt understand things like "you can make the wrong choices and still choose to do better later" and "im mad at what you did but that doesnt mean i dont care about you."

he just sees someone upset with him. just sees another person who used him and doesnt care and is going to leave bc everyone leaves him and in a world where EVERY SINGLE PERSON comes in pairs, hes the only one who stands alone.

basically tl;dr: collector my beloved <3

[ferromagnetiic]

Headcanons on Kid's accent quirks.

Alright, so this has been bothering the hell out of me recently, and I need to get all of this out in the open and clarify a bunch of things. I'm going to write a condensed version on his carrd eventually, but I wanted to have a full version written here so I can elaborate as much as I want without feeling restricted.

We all know that I remind everyone every twenty seconds that Kid is very Scottish; or, rather, the One Piece equivalent of Scottish. For the sake of explaining what I'm talking about, just bear with me temporarily and pretend his birth island is an exact replica of Scotland for a moment.

When I first started writing him more seriously, I decided to give him the quirk of intentionally hiding his accent, because when he doesn't, his accent is actually VERY heavy, often to the point where people not very familiar with the accent might not fully understand what he's saying, and he loathes having to repeat himself. Additionally, sometimes people might try to tease him or mock him for it, and while he himself doesn't care about that himself, some of his nakama are also from his birth island, and by insulting his accent, they're also being ridiculed, so he's like "fuck you, you don't deserve to hear it if you're gonna be a little shit about it". Anyway, he masks his accent to different levels, and it comes in several different degrees:

1) Entirely masked, so you probably wouldn't notice it at all unless you were familiar with it or actively listening out for it.

2) Mostly masked, so he might have a little more oomph in his R sounds and he has more depth in his O sounds, but it's still speaking fairly neutrally. There's a natural growl in his words and his vowels are affected.

3) Somewhat masked; he's actively speaking with a distinct Scottish accent, but only uses occasional Scottish slang, phrases, or idioms, so it's unlikely you wouldn't be able to understand him.

4) Not masking at all, full blown accent out, using slang and terminology exclusive to his birth island, phrases people might not know, specific idioms, etc etc.

5) Literally speaking Scots Gaelic which isn't the same thing but I like when he does that so I'm mentioning it here.

Usually I have him at a 1 when he's meeting someone new and/or is being serious and intense, annunciating, actively and consciously masking. Most of the time, he's around a 2 as a neutral default. He starts slipping into a 3 when he's losing his composure a bit and not really thinking about masking, so when he starts getting very pissed off, when he's a little to moderately intoxicated, if he's feeling unwell or in pain, tired, or if he's just relaxing around his nakama. He's only at a 4 when he's exclusively around the select members of his crew from his birth island, so Killer, Heat, Wire, and a couple of the other guys who've known him since before they became pirates. Alternatively, he'll do it publicly or if he's extremely, EXTREMELY drunk. It also doesn't help that he's slurring his words really heavily when he's drunk enough to do this, so sometimes even Killer is just like. "I don't think that was even a real sentence..." He only speaks Gaelic with Killer, and then later with Shou (@snowdrcp) because she starts learning the language.

Anyway, finally on to why I'm actually making this post this long and detailed.

Normally I only mention an increase in the degree of Kid's accent in the monologue, and I don't normally write it phonetically in his dialogue because I would have to add a translator's note every single time, and to be honest, I'm just not familiar enough with Scottish to make it sound all that natural. However, when Kid is speaking casually, I do like to change some specific words, such as "you" becoming "ya", and "your/you're" becoming "yer", as well as removing the G from words ending in -ing. This isn't so much meant to be an indicator of his accent or its intensity but instead because Kid just talks naturally colloquially in my head, and he often has a bit of a husky drawl. I don't always include this; sometimes it makes the sentence structure sound weird, or sometimes if he's really focused or alert, he's annunciating more and therefore doesn't speak so informally. However, he sounds really stiff in my head if I don't include this in his regular dialogue, and I intended for it to be a subtle reminder of the fact that he's speaking lazily even when he's not exposing his accent very much.

My problem is that when I make him sound more Scottish, like a 3 and up, every time he says the words "you" or "your/you're" it would not sound like "yer" at all; due to the way Scottish accents sound when pronouncing those syllables, it would be pronounced more like "yooh", and "yoohr". So sometimes, I have the issue of Kid getting angry at someone he's yelling at, and I'm writing his dialogue, but for the sake of being consistent I'm keeping him using "ya" and "yer", even though it isn't congruent with how he would actually be speaking if it was audible and not written dialogue. My concern is that if I suddenly switch over mid conversation, it's going to look ugly from a writing perspective, and kind of sloppy on my part if I keep changing how I'm writing the same words.

I guess I basically just wanted to explain how I intend for his voice to sound, and ask if it would be an issue for anyone if I started throwing in some "yoohs" and "yoohrs" to flavor his dialogue when I feel it's appropriate to do so, without people thinking it's a typo/mistake, or inconsistent.

I'd love to have opinions on whether doing this would look too unnatural or peculiar, and I'd be really grateful for any kind of feedback on the issue.

Thanks so much if you read all of that and made it to the end!

[camilacabellofanfiction]

TEN MORE MINUTES

Chapter 1

Camila's POV

I really do not understand why these meetings carry on for so long. Everyone seems to be making the same point but refuses to admit they are agreeing with one another. The chatter around the table drones on and no progress has been made in the past thirty-eight minutes. Only about twenty more minutes and then I can return to her. I can't help but look forward to seeing her again and again. It's nothing really, just a crush. But god, she's all I can think about.

A week ago I would have panicked at the feeling and what that must mean for me. The thoughts would race through me like lightning. My heart pounding, eyes scrunched as I try to stop the intrusive questions around my sexuality. Truth be told, there was a time when I had been more comfortable facing my attraction to women, I had embraced it even. It feels like such a long time ago and frankly, so much has changed. It hurts for a moment to think about. A daunting feeling washed over me and I feel eighteen again, fully at the mercy of management that doesn't approve. I looked down to my feet resting on the floor and adjusted my glasses on my face.

Suddenly all of the voices around me seem to quiet down and Mark looks to me expectantly. "What do you think, Camila?" The silence is the only thing I can focus on now. "Think about what, Mark?" The expectant face now turns to one of annoyance. "What are your thoughts on the interview line up?" I could clearly hear the bite in his tone now. I pause for a moment, looking over the page. The top of the line up is Apple Music with Zane Lowe, "Looks great guys." I feel a wave of comfort, I have missed Zane. What a better way to start the promo tour for my album? Zane is one of the few I have met through the years of stardom that I can honestly say is a friend. I take one more glance at the clock; six minutes until this meeting is over. I let out a soft sigh, "I'm ready" I thought to myself. Before I could regain my excitement, Serena sends us off. "Thank you all for your support and your time, everyone. We have our work cut out for the next few weeks. See you all next week." She finished with a smile, seemingly genuine. I gather my iPad and charger, lastly my tea. As I was making my way out of the conference room I can hear Mark calling my name. "Camila! Listen, can I give you some quick feedback?" he gestured down the hallway, away from the people funneling through the doorway behind me. A small huff makes its way out, "Of course," I thought. "What's up Mark?" I follow his lead, he made sure we stood just out of earshot. "Camila, I know meetings are frustrating and sometimes it can be difficult to focus. I can't help but notice that you have been distracted. But these people have come together for you. You have got to respect their time and be present for them." Here we go. Mark takes a breath and waits for me to meet his eyes. "What ever it is that you have going on can wait, okay? Do not forget that you need these people." He paused again, his eyes were like daggers silently telling me to pay close attention. His face softened slightly and he sighed. "Just don't waste their time, they want to be here and they are going to be a part of this until the end. They have a stake in this too, and just as many hours as you." I could tell he was being sincere. Mark was right, as much as I don't want to admit. I cleared my throat, "You're absolutely right, Mark. I forget sometimes that this kind of work is much bigger than I am." He nodded his head and a small smile came to his face. "Thank you. That is understandable, it happens to all of us." I nodded my head and mutter "yeah." We exchange our goodbyes and agree to see each other soon.

I turn swiftly on my heels and recount my conversation with Mark. Immediately I feel a pang of regret, of course I have done this process many times before, all different crews and always having distractions. He is right, next week I won't make the same mistake.

I can't help but notice my excitement for this radio tour is absent this time around though. Well, let me rephrase, my excitement is misplaced. I wonder for a moment if I should feel guilty. Robbing my own work of my attention to give to someone else. To give to her. I shake my head in the negative. "Stop it," I think to myself. If there is one thing I have learned it is to not dwell on feelings that aren't relevant. "I am still invested in this." I assure myself as I approach the elevator. I make a point to be mindful and move to a more positive line of thoughts.

I pressed the button and watch as the elevator on my left slowly rises to this floor. A few moments pass and the doors finally open. A group spills past the doorway, every one of them dressed in expensive office attire, clutching paperwork. I step into the empty elevator and watch them as they walk away. I wonder if they might be lawyers. The doors close slowly and I quickly press the button to the lobby.

I have made this trip enough to know that I am about ten minutes out from her. My heart begins beating rapidly. Reaching for my phone, I open my camera app and look closely at my makeup, scanning for any imperfections. After some careful examination I am satisfied with my appearance. The elevator shifts and I put my phone back into my purse as the doors open.

The sound of the bustling lobby spills into the elevator and I can feel my nerves highten. I step into the lobby, immediately I can feel my breath even out as my surroundings expand. This building is beautiful. Two large staircases on either side of me, tall ceilings and tall windows with plenty of natural sunlight. The temperature is perfect and there are no drafty pockets. I reach into my purse and unfold my sunglasses, as I put them on I can see my driver waiting for me at back of the car. I then glance to the doorman, he has a toothy smile and always smells fantastic. He nodded to me and opened the door for me, never taking his attention away. I swiftly thanked him and shifted my focus to my driver, Fernando. My steps quickened and I waved to him, "Hi!" I exclaimed. "How was it, Miss Cabello?" he asked in a thick hispanic accent. "So great!" I responded sarcastically and laughed to myself. The Colombian man smiled and ushered me inside the car. Only a few moments passed and the car was moving. "About eight more minutes." I thought. My excitement returned and I watched the cars pass occasionally switching my attention to the pedestrians on the sidewalks. Some in groups and some on their journey alone. I wonder what it must be like to walk along a busy street with my head buried in my phone. Nobody paying any attention. After some time I turn back to the interior of the car and take a deep breath, now noticing my smile is still in place. I reach for my phone and check the time, three more minutes. A rapid wave of excitement flies through my body, I can feel every cell jump to life and the air feels cold suddenly. I am restless now, eager to jump out of my seat. I wonder if she is waiting for me already or if she wants to catch up for a bit. I mean, it's been a week now so surely we have plenty to talk about. I'm just thinking in circles now. I wonder "What is Beck thinking about right now?

**Author's Note**

hiii val and lovelies! <3 i am rusty but I am back! 8 years since my last fic :)

I know this is a slow start but be patient babes, you are in good hands! the second chapter will be coming in the next few days. Next chapter is going to be from Beck's POV. I'm not sure how often I will have updates for y'all but I'm hoping at least one a week or so.

I probably shouldn't but I'm cheating a little bit and posting my own fics to kick off the site! love yall- Admin Dara

find me on wattpad & tumblr @daracudda

[nevermindirah]

Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

[redorich]

Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine! 

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane. 

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

[intheticklecloset]

The Great Academia Road Trip, Part 1 (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: Class 1-A (plus Shinsou) is going on a road trip! In this first installment, Bakugou contemplates how he's going to get Deku back for cornering him before, having a little fun with the nerd along the way.

A/N: Welcome to the first official mini-series within the Primary Universe! I was hoping to do this more in the middle of summer than towards the end, but better late than never! I hope you enjoy taking a road trip with the students of Class 1-A - with plenty of tickling included! ^^

Shoutout to @ticklishscumbag for the "Bakugou loves strawberry milk" headcanon that is briefly referenced here.

Word Count: 1,796

**SPOILER ALERT:** This fic contains spoilers from Season 5 of the anime. (Below the cut.)

~~~

The door to Bakugou’s dorm room slammed open.

“Road trip!”

“What the—?!” Bakugou yelled, instinctively shoving his covers off and scrambling to his feet, heart racing from the anticipation of an oncoming battle. When he saw it was just Kirishima, he clutched his chest and yelled, “Kiri, you idiot! You gave me a heart attack!”

“Forget that,” Kiri replied easily, bounding inside with a huge grin on his face. “It’s road trip time! Where’s your bag? You packed it already, right?”

“Freakin’ – yeah, it’s over there.” The blonde gestured to his closet. “God dang, Kirishima.”

Kiri laughed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Sorry, dude. I’m just so excited, and we’re leaving in less than an hour! How could you still be asleep? Get dressed! Eat some breakfast! We’re gonna hit the rooooad!”

Bakugou grumbled as he shoved Kirishima back out his door, barely registering that his friend had grabbed his bag on his way out. Still, he couldn’t help but smile once he was alone. Today was the day. Their entire class – along with Shinsou, who would be entering the hero course next year – were taking a month-long trip around the country as both part of their training and as a vacation. Officially, they were touring the different prefectures and meeting the top heroes across the nation, learning how things worked in different places and sometimes even helping out if needed. Unofficially, they were getting away from the stress of school and the League of Villains for a while, making stops at popular tourist locations and having some down time to balance out the work they’d still be doing.

No rest for the weary, but honestly, Bakugou was looking forward to this trip just as much as Kirishima and the rest of the class were. He couldn’t wait to meet pro heroes in other prefectures, beat up some bad guys, and take a dip in the pool at the end of their long days. It was going to be great.

But first, he had to get dressed.

*

Downstairs, the entire dorm was alive with activity. It seemed everyone was either finishing up breakfast or hauling their gear out to the bus that was already waiting outside. Bakugou made a mental note to ask Kiri if he’d actually gotten his luggage all the way out there before they left. In the meantime, he headed to the fridge, hoping Sato hadn’t taken the last strawberry milk.

It was still there. He grinned, grabbed it, and twisted open the cap.

Just beyond his hearing range in the living room stood Iida, Kaminari, Ojiro, Shinsou, and stupid Deku. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t gotten the nerd back for tickling him to death while he was trapped under his bed last week. He was rather looking forward to finding ways to mess with him on this trip in retaliation.

“Baku-bro!” Sero said by way of greeting, slapping him on the back. “Good morning! Ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure.” Bakugou took a swig of strawberry milk, savoring the flavor, trying not to let it show how much he loved it. “Where’s Kiri?”

“Probably taking Mina’s bag out to the bus. He already grabbed mine and his own.”

“Mine, too.”

Sero laughed. “He’s pretty excited.”

“Yeah, well…” Bakugou shrugged. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“I take it that means you’re excited, too? Good! It wouldn’t be any fun if you were a grump the whole time. Though we have ways of making you cheer up nowadays, don’t we?” Sero winked, nudged him, and moved on to the next person, greeting them enthusiastically as he made his way to the front door.

Bakugou scowled. He supposed he would have been stupid to think he’d get a break from his own torture just because they were on a tour of the country. Oh, well. As long as no one else found out, he’d survive.

He took another drink just as Deku suddenly broke away from his group and hurried past him toward his own dorm room.

Must have left some All Might backpack or something, he thought, grunting. Stupid nerd.

*

Somehow, despite the fact that it was obvious the two of them didn’t get along, Bakugou wound up seated next to Shinsou right in the middle of the bus. Kaminari had practically shoved him into the taller boy’s lap, much to both of their annoyance.

“Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted coolly, polite but not much more than that.

The blonde bit his tongue to resist calling him a mind-reader again. “Shinsou.”

After that, the two lapsed into silence as the bus finished loading, pulled out of the school grounds, and made its way onto the highway.

It was a long, grueling twenty minutes before Bakugou finally sighed angrily and got up, turning on his heel to stride toward the back of the bus to where Kiri and Deku were sharing a seat.

He interrupted their conversation without an apology. “Deku, switch with me.”

Deku blinked. “What?”

“Swap seats with me. You’re friends with that freak from 1-C, right?”

“He’s not a freak. And yes, we’re friends.”

“Then swap with me. I don’t want to be near him.”

Kirishima gave him a withering look. “You’ll have to get used to having him around sooner or later. When he joins the hero course, there’s a fifty percent chance he’ll be in our class.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

Deku poked his head up over the seat in front of him, glancing to where Shinsou now sat alone. He stood to do as Bakugou asked, but before he could even get a step down the aisle, Kirishima shot out in front of him, declaring, “I’ll sit with him! I never get to talk to the guy.”

“Wait – I don’t want to sit with stupid Deku, either!” Bakugou yelled. “What are you doing?”

Kiri turned back to him. “It’s Shinsou or Midoriya. Take your pick.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth, growled, and shoved Deku down into the seat he’d just vacated. “Fine. Move over, nerd.”

Deku smiled, scooting over to the window seat to allow the blonde to sit with him while Kiri moved up to join Shinsou.

More silence.

“You’re not going to make it, you know,” Bakugou said at last, crossing his arms.

Deku startled. “What?”

“To the end of the trip. You won’t make it back.”

“Why?”

“Because you declared war, idiot. And I’m not going to lose to you.”

The greenette was silent for a long moment, seeming lost. Then it clicked, and his face brightened. “Yeah? Well, I’m not losing to you, either. So where does that leave us?”

“With you begging me for mercy.”

“Or you begging me.”

“Never.”

Deku smirked, then glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Bakugou smirked, too. This was going to be an interesting road trip for the both of them.

*

Several hours later – after they’d arrived at their first destination, unloaded, trained, had dinner, and were wrapping up for the day – Bakugou stood just inside the door of the four-person room he was sharing with Kirishima, Tokoyami, and Shoji, waiting patiently. Any minute now, Deku would pop into the hall on his way to the shared bathroom to clean up before bed, and he’d pass Bakugou’s room on his way to do so. It was just a matter of time now.

There he was.

Bakugou reached into the hall, grabbing Deku by the back of his shirt and pulling him into the currently empty room, throwing him onto a bedroll. Then he pounced, climbing on top of him and digging his fingers into his sides, ribs, and underarms in rapid succession.

Deku burst into hysterical giggles, shocked and confused for just a moment before his brain caught up to what his body was feeling. “Ahahahahahahaha Kacchan! Nahahahahahahaha!”

“So about this tickle war you’ve so stupidly decided to start with me, nerd.” Bakugou spoke casually, though he smirked at his friend’s useless attempts to get away. “How do we know who’s won? Begging for mercy doesn’t seem like enough, since I get you to do that anyway during our normal tickle fights.”

“I-I mahahahahahake you beheheheheg, too!” Deku protested, earning a sharp jab into his hip bone for his trouble. He squealed and laughed. “NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Like I was saying, I don’t think it’s enough to end a tickle war. What exactly was your plan going into this?”

“I dohohohohohohon’t knohohohohohow!” Deku writhed on the ground, smiling wide and pushing at Bakugou’s hands weakly. “I dihihihihidn’t thihihihihihihink about it!”

“Well, think now.”

“I cahahahahahahahan’t! Y-You’re distrahahahahacting me!”

Bakugou hummed, swinging a leg over to straddle Deku and reach up into his underarms, drawing out a fresh burst of laughter and kicking. “Better come up with some excuse.”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHA KACCHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“Is it because you can never beat me on your own? You’ve got to use furniture to help you come out on top?” Bakugou half-mocked, half-teased. “Is that why you decided it was smart to challenge me like that?”

“IT WAS JUHUHUHUHUHUST – JUST AN OPP-P-PFFAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku tossed his head back and laughed freely, still trying to push Bakugou away with whatever strength he had left after the long day and the surprise tickle attack. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Opportunity? Is that what you were trying to say?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“Interesting. An opportunity to come after me while I was completely helpless, right?” Bakugou left his underarms at last, trailing back down to his sides and belly. “Because that’s the only way you can really win against me.”

“P-Plehehehehehease,” Deku whined, looking up at him with mirthful but tired eyes. “Lehehehet me gohohohoho, Kacchan…”

Bakugou thought a moment, then relented entirely, grabbing Deku’s wrists and pinning them down by his head, looming over him. “I’ll let you go for now, nerd, since the others will be back soon. But you’d better start watching your back extra closely from now on, because when I catch you, I will not show mercy until you’re pleading for it.”

Deku’s eyes widened, but he nodded, and Bakugou released him and stood up just as Tokoyami returned from the bathroom.

“Midoriya,” he said, “I’m fairly certain sleepovers are not allowed.”

“Oh, n-no, I was just…” Deku trailed off, then laughed and got to his feet. “Ah, never mind. I’ve still got to get ready for bed. Night, guys!” And he hurried out of the room, waving as he went.

Tokoyami turned to Bakugou. “Why was Midoriya here?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Stupid nerd wanted to get his butt handed to him, that’s what.” The blonde flopped onto his own bedroll and turned toward the wall, facing away from Tokoyami and the door.

“All right, then…” Tokoyami muttered, then went blissfully silent.

Bakugou grinned at the wall.

This was going to be the best road trip ever.

~~~

Part 2

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader is looking for her teenage sister’s service dog one day, she runs into Dean Winchester who thankfully saw him run past. When she arrives, her sister is fine aside from a sprained ankle but Dean’s decided to follow along and help get her sister home...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, minor injury, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Please enjoy this first part! …

_________

“Toast! Toast!” you shouted as you ran down a street. “Toast boy!”

“Uh, you okay?” said a guy walking on the other side of the street. He was raising an eyebrow and you shook your head.

“Toast is a dog,” you said.

“Oh, gotcha. I thought you were nuts for a minute,” he chuckled.

“You haven’t seen a german shepard around have you?” you asked.

“I saw one run down the block a few minutes ago,” he said. You looked the direction he pointed and you started sprinting. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Can’t talk!” you shouted back. You ran down the block and across the street over to the park. You ran over to the basketball court and saw Toast there next to Tessa. She was sat up and holding onto his vest when you jogged over to her. “Tess. Are you okay? Did you have a seizure?”

“No,” she said with a laugh. She was holding her ankle and you saw the swelling. “I think I broke it playing. My phone’s over in my bag. I told Toast to get it but I guess he ran home and got you instead.”

“He barged in through the doggy door, I thought he was just nuts at first,” you said. You heard footsteps behind you and the man from the street was there panting.

“You found your dog,” he said as he caught his breath. 

“Yeah,” you said, the man wincing when he saw Tessa’s ankle. “We’re all set.”

“She needs a doctor,” he said.

“Tessa, you okay here while I run home to get my car?” you asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she said. “Toast’ll stay.”

“I can carry her,” said the man. You both stared at him and he shrugged. “Save you a trip.”

“Are you some kind of weirdo?” you asked. 

“Says the woman running through the neighborhood shouting Toast,” he smiled back.

“Alright. Tess if you’re cool with it…” you said, the man nodding.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean will carry you back to the house and I’ll drive you to urgent care,” you said. “If you do try anything though Dean, Toast will rip your face and junk off, just to be clear.”

“Got the message,” he said. Tessa climbed on his back and he was careful of her ankle while you grabbed her bag. You walked with Toast by Dean’s side back the few blocks towards home. “I think it’s just a sprain actually. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

“You play basketball?” you asked.

“No. I’m a doctor is all. First glance it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Are you single? Y/N’s single,” she said.

“You’re a little shit, Tessa,” you said. Dean chuckled and Toast bumped his leg. “He wants you to get on the sidewalk.”

“Will do,” he said, Toast giving some space once he’d stepped up off the road. “He’s very intelligent.”

“We’ve only had Toast two years but he’s been very good with us,” you said. “He’s Tessa’s. I just feed him and pick up his poop.”

“I have school, loser.”

“I have work, loser,” you said. 

“You guys must be sisters,” he said. “I’m a big brother. I would know.”

“If your younger brother is single and half as good looking-”

“Keep it in your pants, Tess,” you said. 

“I like you two,” he chuckled. “Sorry Tessa but he’s probably a little too old for you.”

“They always are,” she sighed.

“You’re seventeen. You’re fine,” you said. “Besides college has way more attractive guys and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, Elmdale community college. Known for it’s hotties,” she mumbled.

“Elmdale University has some good choices,” you said.

“I thought it was too expensive,” she said.

“Well I was gonna tell you this at dinner but I applied for a different job awhile ago. I heard back this morning. I accepted. It’s double what I was making before.”

“Really?”

“Yes. With your grades you can get a half-ride and I figure between inheritance and my new salary, you can do your four year out of the gate without loans,” you said.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said quietly. “Really.”

“You still need your part-time job if you want to get stuff for yourself though. I’m sorry. I can’t make it work if-”

“S’okay,” she said. “I can’t believe I can go to the university.”

“I called up the school earlier and talked to your guidance counselor. We gotta work on your application but we can make it work,” you said.

“Can I get a car? I know I can’t afford room and board but maybe I can get something used so you don’t have to drive me all the time?” she asked.

“Tessa…” you sighed. You knew you couldn’t afford insurance on two cars at the moment and everything else and she wouldn’t make enough part time to cover all the car expenses herself. “I-”

“I can pick up more shifts,” she said.

“Tessa, I want you to enjoy college. I sure did. I’ll give you rides whenever you want. I’ll drop you off in the morning and pick you up at night. That would work, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t even care about my ankle. I can get my art degree!” she said.

“Tessa.”

“I’m joking,” she laughed. “Art minor?”

“You can minor in whatever you like but please for my sanity major in something you can get a job in?” you asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. You rounded a corner and started to walk up a driveway, Dean setting Tessa down in the passenger seat of your car. You opened the back and Toast jumped in, Dean smiling when you shut both the doors.

“Thanks,” you said. “For helping us out.”

“Sounds like you two know how to solve problems on your own,” he said. “Happy to help. Here.”

He dug in his back pocket and pulled out a card.

“If you ever need a doctor, I’m two blocks over,” he said. “Or just to talk.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I’ll see you around, Dean.”

It was around nine when you were sitting on the front porch with a glass of whiskey in your hand. You drank slowly, eyes catching a man in a baseball cap and reflective shirt jogging by.

“Do you always run at night?” you called, Dean stopping at your front walkway. “Cause I never see you run at night and I sit out here a lot.”

“Whew well let’s stop that charade cause running is so not my thing,” he said. He breathed hard for a moment as he walked up the steps. You nodded to the other chair and poured him a glass, Dean drinking it down. “Your sister okay?”

“Yeah. Just a sprain,” you said. “Still gotta pay the deductible for the x-ray though.”

“How old are you?”

“How old are you?” you asked.

“Thirty one,” he said.

“Twenty eight.”

“Where are your folks?” he asked.

“They and Tessa were in an accident two years ago. It’s just us two now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m slowly getting used to be a guardian,” you said.

“I raised my little brother. My parents are still around but they fought a lot. I get becoming the parent when you’re not ready.”

“Do you ever get to just be a sibling again?” you asked.

“Yes. But they have to grow up first and you got a few more years ahead of you before it happens,” he said.

“I figured.”

“What does she have? Toast is a service dog I saw.”

“She gets seizures sometimes. It’s from the accident. She hasn’t had one in seven months. Fingers crossed we got her on the right mix of meds finally,” you said.

“So who takes care of you?”

“My buddy Jack Daniels. Sometimes I hang out Jim Bean too.”

“I’m partial to Johnny Walker,” smiled Dean.

“Very nice. I don’t drink much. Too tired most of the time,” you said.

“So nobody takes care of you then.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“Good point,” he said. “But I didn’t have it this rough.”

“We’re getting by. We always do.”

“I have no doubt that you can,” he said. “Take care of yourself every once in a while is all.”

“When she’s done with school I will.”

“She’s got five years left. You won’t last that long,” he said.

“Watch me.”

“Who worked on your sister at the urgent care tonight?”

“Dr. Novak. Why?”

“Cas is a good friend. I’ll see about getting that x-ray test off the bill,” he said as he stood up.

“Dean, you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said, heading down the steps. “You want me to leave you alone from now on?”

“...No.”

“You want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you said.

“I’ll pick you up at noon? I’m buying. Nothing too fancy,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. He smiled and nodded, spinning around and sliding right off the last two steps to his bottom. You rushed down them and he groaned, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he said, grunting as he stood. “Oh my ass hurts.”

“That’s what she said,” you said, Dean laughing.

“I definitely like you,” he said as you helped him take a few steps. “I’m alright. I’ll swing by tomorrow then.”

“Bye Dean,” you said.

“Bye Dean!” called Tessa from her bedroom window upstairs.

“Oh my God, go to bed!” you shouted back.

“It’s nine and I’m not twelve,” she said.

“Goodnight ladies,” chuckled Dean, waving as he headed back down the path. You gathered up the bottle and glasses, bringing them inside and locking up for the night. A few minutes later you were upstairs in Tessa’s room, frowning as she giggled while looking through her phone.

“Oh come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes at you. “He’s cute, he’s a doctor, he’s single and he’s a dork that just fell on his butt in front of you cause he’s so nervous and trying to play it cool. Like what is wrong with him?”

“Nothing. We have a date tomorrow,” you said, leaning against the doorframe. 

“We used to talk about guys,” she said. 

“I know,” you said. You picked at the wood, Tessa putting her phone down.

“Y/N. You’re not my mom. I know you gotta act like her sometimes but you’re not. Mom and dad would want you to go on dates and stuff. I haven’t seen you do anything fun in years.”

“I barely knew how to be an adult for just me,” you said. “You’re my priority now.”

“I’m not in a hospital bed anymore. My seizures are under control and I got Toast to watch out for me just in case. Dean had a point. You gotta take care of yourself,” she said. “Including me going to community college.”

“Tessa-”

“It’s both our inheritance and you can’t spend all of it on me. I can do two years at community and transfer to the university after.”

“Tess. You don’t have to do that. I did the math and it’ll work out.”

“When’s the last time you bought something for yourself? Seriously when?”

“I bought a new bedspread two weeks ago.”

“You needed one. That doesn’t count. When-”

“Before mom and dad died, Tess. Is that what you want me to say? They made good money but you had medical bills. Do I want a new winter coat? Sure. Do I want to splurge and by myself a nice pair of leggings? Of course. I want things. But I want us to stay in this house. I don’t want us to get shoved in a tiny apartment. I want you to be able to go to college like I did and not worry about this crap. I’m the grown up, not you. I choose how to spend the money.”

“Fine,” she said. She grabbed the crutch by her bed and got up, going to her dresser. She opened her jewelry box and grabbed a wad of cash, holding it out to you. “It’s three hundred. I want you to have it.”

“Tessa, no.”

“I earned it. I get to choose how to spend it,” she said. “You’ve always told me that. Buy a coat and leggings and whatever else you want.”

“Tessa. It’s yours. You were saving up to buy an iphone.”

“I don’t need a fucking phone. I need my sister to stop looking like she cries herself to sleep every night. Just take it,” she said. You shook your head and she shoved the money in your hand. “Y/N, take it.”

“Alright,” you said. 

“Good.” She waited a beat before pulling you into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

“I was gonna sleepover Hailey’s house if that’s okay?” she said.

“Yeah. You guys have fun,” you said. “Just be careful on your ankle.”

“Duh,” she said. “Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“I’m kinda beat. Sunday for sure?” you said. 

“Okay. Night,” she said.

“Night, Tess,” you said. You went next door to your room, opening your desk drawer and opening the envelope inside. You counted the money she’d given you and added it to the front. You definitely had enough for her phone now and her birthday was only a few weeks away. You smiled and put it away, writing out a few bills before you gathered up your pajamas and walked down the hall to the bathroom. You kept going though, down to the shut door. You pushed it open, the room cold and dark. You flipped on a light, a coating of dust on everything again.

“Y/N?” said Tessa from the other end of the hall. You turned off the light and shut the door, Tessa by the bathroom when you walked back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna shower quick before bed. Shout if you need something.”

“Yeah. Night.”

Dean POV

“Hey, Sammy,” said Dean after he’d gotten out of the shower and was laying in bed. 

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” asked Sam on the other end of the phone. 

“I think I just went full on weirdo on this girl I met today.”

“Well that’s obvious but what’d you do? You didn’t like stalk her or anything.”

“She lives in the neighborhood. I kinda went jogging past her house tonight and she was sat on the front porch.”

“Okay that’s kinda creepy,” said Sam. Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I gave off creeper vibes but she might have just been polite. I don’t know. We’re going out tomorrow,” said Dean. He was quiet as he shut his eyes. “Which sucks cause I really like her too. I hope she doesn’t think I’m weird.”

“Maybe she’ll have pity on you and let it slide. Where’d you meet her? I thought you swore off women after your last hookup went bad,” he said. Dean didn’t speak and ran his hand over his face again. “De I know something happened that night.”

“Sammy I got tired of hooking up. I’m too old for it. I just want a girl to go home to at the end of the day and laugh with. That’s all there is to it,” said Dean.

“Dean I was still living with you at the time. You were off for days. I know-”

“If you’re gonna bring this shit up again-”

“I’m just saying it’s nice to hear you excited about a girl again...and you can tell me anything. Anything, Dean. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re twenty seven. You’re a kid,” said Dean. He rolled over on the bed and lay on his stomach, putting his hands under his chin. “Some things I just don’t tell you about, Sam.”

“Dean, I asked you to stop raising me awhile ago. You’re not my father anymore.”

“I still gotta protect you from stuff,” said Dean with a shrug.

“I get that. But my mind has gone to the worst case scenario on this more than once. Just promise it wasn’t that,” said Sam.

“Sammy, I called to talk about a girl.”

“You want things to work out with her? Then figure out whatever the hell happened in the past so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You don’t understand,” said Dean. 

“Whatever. Just crack a joke next time you see her,” said Sam. He hung up and Dean looked at his phone, sighing before he jammed his face in the bed. He gripped the sheets tight and felt his heart rate pick up, bile rising up in the back of his throat.

“Stop. It,” he said to himself, forcing himself to sit up. He wiped off his eye and dropped his head to his chest. “It’s just a fucking girl. It’s just a girl, it’s just a date. It’s all it is.”

He saw his phone light up and Sam’s name appear. He swiped and put it on speaker before he faced away from it.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam. 

“It’s okay,” said Dean, freezing when he sniffled. He stared at the phone and Sam cleared his throat.

“You alright?” Dean stared at the phone and shook his head. “De, you there?”

“Are you alone?” he asked.

“Yes…” said Sam. “It’s just me.”

“You repeat a word of this to anybody or you laugh or you tease me or-”

“Hey. I’d rather we not have this conversation over the phone. I can be there in an hour.”

“...Fine but you better bring some pie with you.”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Dean.”

______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[haitanirindo]

zukka fics that live in my head rent free! 

1. what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth (what were you digging) by draco_sollicitus status: complete (18k words) rating: mature pairing(s): sokka/zuko  summary: Sokka is immortal; it's been tested, he knows that he can't die. He's immortal, but he's not quite a god like his sister, Katara. He's immortal, but he's not quite powerful like his friends Aang and Toph. He's just sort of Sokka: good at fixing things, good at playing pranks, good at helping people. When a bet against Toph goes horribly wrong, and an attempt to save him goes even worse, Sokka finds himself the unwilling guest of the Lord of the Underworld. And, strangely enough, every story Sokka's heard about Lord Zuko seems to be ... completely wrong. (Also, he's really handsome. Why does he have to be handsome?)

mythology nerds come get y’all juice. a very good fic. 10/10

2. Where I Want to Be by through-the-stars-to-the-pavement status: WIP (83k words) rating: explicit pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: "'The fog was where I wanted to be.'" Everything is different. The pitch of his voice, his posture. The auditorium goes silent. No one can take their eyes off of him.… He's amazing.  Zuko had to perfect the art of acting as a child to survive the horrors of his homelife. When he got older, it was only natural to take his talent to the stage for entertainment and escape. Enter Sokka, a craftsman and set designer with a giant heart who is haunted by plenty of ghosts of his own. A tale of trauma, disability, family, creativity, and love. 

this is one of my all time favorite fics. it’s seriously so good and i think about it often

3. Teaching a Heart by @i-write-shakespeare-not-disney status: WIP (114k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Sokka is asked to go to the Fire Nation to teach the crown prince how to sword fight. When he arrives, he's surprised to learn he has to pose as a companion before he can teach the stubborn prince because he rejects every teacher. Far from home and among new customs, Sokka struggles to gain the prince's trust and friendship despite the uncertainties of the customs and dynamics he sees. As he slowly finds answers to his questions, his bond with the prince grows until it becomes something far more ardent than friendship. Doomed as it may be with the prince's approaching wedding ceremony and coronation, Sokka and Zuko find themselves consumed by what they find in each other.

i have no words, i just love this fic and it makes me weep.

4. The Road Between Action and Inaction by @donvex status: complete (17k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Sokka does a shitty k turn in the parking lot across from the bus station, pulls up to the curb where the boy is looking determinedly at his phone, and rolls down the passenger window. “Hey! Which way were you going?” He may die, but at least his conscience will be clear. The guy blinks at him. “Don’t.” Oh, he’s prickly. Or: the hitchhiker au, featuring Sokka and Zuko falling in love without even realizing it.

a classic. roadtrip fics own my ass. 

5. purrfect for eachother by lesmiserablol status: complete (3k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: “Let me teach you how to be a cat person,” Zuko says. “Learning from the master himself,” Sokka grins. “Alright, this can’t be too hard. Show me what you got.” (because sometimes, it takes going to a cat café four times to realize you're in love with your best friend)

this whole series is adorable, reading it is self care

6. Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by @muncaster status: complete (47k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko, aang/katara, mai/ty lee summary: Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes? (AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

i think this is the longest one-shot i’ve ever read and it’s so worth it

7. a study in matchmaking by @verdanthoney status: complete (12k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko, aang/katara, bato/hakoda summary: Zuko and Sokka try to play matchmaker, but things don't go exactly as planned.

this fic makes me want to scream, in the best way. it’s so cute

8. A Predictable Story by mindbending status: complete (7k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: "On this night, you shall share a kiss with a great love of your life!” That lying, scummy Aunt Wu predicts a grand romance for Sokka. To disprove her "fortunetelling" once and for all, Sokka decides to spend the night with least romantic person he knows. Zuko.

again, i have no words. this fic is cute as hell

9. that’s murder, buddy by @bisexual-atla status: WIP (14k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: Throughout the streets, on quiet nights, it was rumored the screams of those missing could be heard. Some say the sounds were coming from underground. Where were the young girls? And what was happening to them? Was an evil spirit haunting Gaoling, or something more human? More sinister? My name is Zuko, and you’re tuning into another episode of ‘That’s Murder, Buddy’. Or: Sokka has no idea that his crush is the host of his favorite podcast. (But everyone else knows.)

i love the entire concept of this one, we love oblivious sokka

10. We’ll play hide and seek (to turn this around) by @crosspin status: complete (5k words) rating: general audiences pairing(s): sokka/zuko, bato/hakoda summary: Sokka gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s…well, you see, there’s this boy…” Hakoda sighed and set down the sports section. This was going to take a while. “He works at Barnes & Noble. At the big information desk in the middle. Every Saturday. And I really want to ask him for his number, but it’s super awkward because there’s always this other guy working the information desk at the same time. He’s old, like you. But I have a plan." Sokka’s eyes lit up deviously. “You come with me to Barnes & Noble today when they’re working and distract the old man. And while you have him distracted, I’ll swoop in and get the goods!” Sokka has a plan to ask out the cute boy at the bookstore. Hakoda is a begrudging participant until he meets the boy's beautiful older coworker.

this fic!! this fic! adorable, incredible, magnificent

11. feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe status: WIP (88k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: [Time passes oddly. Between one second and the next, Sokka has the Fire Lord pinned to the wall with his hands around the bastard’s throat. Golden eyes (one gold eye, his mind whispers) widen in shock. “Sokka?” he chokes out. And then he smiles. What the fuck? “Sokka, I—” Sokka slams his head against the wall, once, twice, and the smile wipes off his face. Good. “What,” Sokka bites out, “have you done to my sister?”] Or: An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends. Yeah, nah.

if you’ve been following me for a while you know this fic fucks me up beyond belief

12. breakable heaven by @fruitysokka status: WIP (43k words) rating: teen and up pairing(s): sokka/zuko summary: With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

this just in: sokka and zuko being oblivious makes me want to yell

this turned out a bit longer than i expected but it also doesn’t even cover all my favorites. i had to stop somewhere, or i’d be here forever. maybe i’ll make a part two someday.

anyway, enjoy!

[edens-breathless-melodies-moved]

words: 4k

pairing: suna r. x f!reader

prompt: cock warming

warnings: cock warming, edging, exactly one (1) spank, reader being a lowkey brat, suna lowkey being a dick (nothing new here, folks)

summary: suna never realized just how tiring it was to play for a division one team. giving his hundred and twenty percent everyday really wore him down, and all he wanted was to relax. so what better way to do that than by surrounding himself with you?

exhausted could not even begin to describe how tired suna was. the amount of fatigue he felt as he trudged through the door to your shared home wasn’t even measurable, and you could feel it emanating from his weary body the moment he stepped through the door.

you frowned softly at your boyfriend’s run down figure, narrow eyes looking downright zombie-ish as he slouched into the living room.

a weak “i’m home” barely registered in your ears, and your heart ached for him, knowing how tiring practice could be.

you had been in the kitchen just finishing up dinner when you heard the sound of keys being entered into the lock.

you were excited to see your boyfriend after being alone for a majority of the day, and it was understandable that you practically launched out of the kitchen to greet him when he entered.

recently he’s been spending more and more time at practice as one of his big games drew closer, and you can’t really blame him for wanting to perfect everything before the game. you adored how serious he takes the sport.

but if you’re being honest with yourself, you have been feeling rather needy lately, and suna spending so much time away wasn’t helping.

suna would disappear from your shared bed just as the sun was rising, pressing a chaste but loving kiss against your sleepy forehead before whispering he’ll be back.

and sometimes he wouldn’t arrive back home until well after dark, barely having enough energy to pull you to his chest before drifting off, exhausted from the day’s training.

you know he feels bad for not being able to spend as much time with you lately, and although you brushed it off by saying you didn’t mind, he wanted to make it up to you.

so when you awoke that morning to find that suna had already left, you felt bummed that you missed his good morning kiss until you checked your phone.

you saw a text from him sent at nearly 06:30 in the morning, about two hours earlier than when he’d normally leave for practice.

sunarin 🐱 💦 06:28 - i convinced coach to start practice a little earlier so me nd the rest of the team could have a early night in. i love you dork, see u when i get home

the excited screech you let out would’ve woken up the neighbors if you had any around you, and you could barely contain your glee at having your sleepy eyes boyfriend home early for once.

the rest of the day was a blur as you rushed around your cozy home tidying up and preparing dinner, different scenarios running through your head about what you two were gonna do when he finally got home.

your thighs clenched slightly at the thought of finally have suna all to yourself in the bedroom, and your need for him to come home was reaching an all time high. ‘finally, we can do more than just a quick kiss…’

but the moment those usually sharp pale yellow eyes locked tiredly with yours, dull and exhausted, it was understandable that you felt a twinge of disappointment and frustration as you silently resigned yourself to a quiet and early night in.

deep down you knew it wasn’t his fault that his coach drained them until they were dry, so you swallowed your disappointment the moment you felt it.

you could always have him to yourself another night.

although you were practically a master at hiding your true emotions to anyone, slapping on a smile and kind eyes that could fool even the toughest detective, suna rintarou was not just anyone.

he could see the traces of disappointment and sexual frustration lurking behind your warm eyes as you offered him a soothing and genuine smile, rushing over to grab his sports bag to put away.

he watched the way you gazed at him with adoration as you gave him a sweet kiss on his check before going to hang his bag in the room, telling him to relax and that you’d bring him dinner in a sec.

you may convince everyone and even yourself, but you couldn’t get past him.

after being by your side for nearly twenty years, suna could confidently say that he was good at reading you, even the you that you tried to hide away.

~~~~

you and suna rintarou were a classic case of childhood best friends to lovers. your mothers were practically attached at the hips since their childhood, so it only made sense for the two of you to be inseparable since birth.

thankfully, you guys ended up getting along with each other, and you two became attached at the hips as well just like your mothers, maybe even more so.

watching the two of you interact with one another as you grew up was always an amusing sight to your cooing parents who were secretly hoping you two would end up together when you were older.

suna and you complimented each other unknowingly. he was always the ice to your fire, the moon to your sun; always there to bring counter you whenever your emotions got the best of you.

while you both were generally well behaved and good children, your mannerisms couldn’t be more unlike each other if you tried.

where suna was usually an indifferent and relaxed child, going with the flow and never starting a fuss, you were always known to be a bit of a crybaby, your emotions overruling your logic sometimes.

at age seven, when your parents had told the two of you that you couldn’t go to the park when you asked because the sun was getting ready to set and it was getting late out, they already knew what was going to happen.

your cute little bottom lip would jut out and begin to quiver and your eyes would begin to tear up, and both sets of parents just sighed as they prepared to deal with another one of your rare cases of bratiness.

so imagine their surprise when little suna, always so passive and indifferent, came up to your trembling form and wrapped his arms around you in a loose hug.

he was muttering how the two of you could go to the park tomorrow as he continued hugging you, pale eyes narrowed softly as he calmed you down with his words.

both parents watched in shock at how quickly suna was able to bring you down from your impending tantrum with just a hug and a couple of choice sentences.

your mothers choked on their spit while your fathers stifled their laughs when they heard suna mumble out “and please don’t cry, you always get snot everywhere.”

from that day forward, suna became your pacifier. whenever things were about to turn ugly and your lip began to tremble or your eyes had that fire in them, it was always suna who swooped in and brought you back down to earth.

(as the two of you got older, his choice of words to calm you down evolved as well, so don’t worry)

the two of you never left each other’s sides all throughout elementary school, and even when most kids branch off in middle school, especially a girl/boy duo, the two of you yet again shocked your parents by sticking through.

this continued on into high school as well, and both of you continued to hide your growing feelings for one another, never revealing them until your second year at inarizaki high.

suna was quick to convince you to become the team’s manager when he joined the boys volleyball club, and the team loved your sweet but feisty and sarcastic attitude.

when growing up with suna rintarou as your best friend, you had to have some backbone to combat his dry humor and biting teases.

the members of the club adored you, some a little more than others.

miya atsumu had a gift for pisisng people off whether he realized it or not, and deciding that causally flirting with the middle blocker’s best friend was totally okay. absolutely nothing could go wrong, right?

oh, you poor, piss haired sewer rat.

to be fair, looking back on it years later, the two of you should be thanking atsumu for flirting with you that day.

if he hadn’t, then suna may have never realized how much he had fallen for you over the years of being by your side.

the fear suna felt run through him made his heart freeze when he saw the way you blushed when atsumu had whispered something in your ear during a break at practice.

the way his heart clenched when you laughed at one of his jokes, eyes alight and shining brightly made suna realize he didn’t want you looking at anyone like that but him.

although he kinda felt guilty for the bloody nose he gave atsumu when he “accidentally” spiked the ball directly into his face just as he was about to whisper something else in your ear, he never apologized.

and later that evening, as the two of you stood at the entrance to your street leading towards your homes, (you lived across the road from each other), suna kissed you as the sun set, confessing on the spot.

he wasn’t a particularly emotional person, leaving that to you, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes watered slightly from happiness when you just smiled that dazzling smile and kissed him again.

~~~~

now, with both of you at twenty-two years old and happily living together, the only thing left to do was get married, but suna wasn’t trying to rush towards that yet.

that’s how suna knows when you’re hiding something from him. and with the way your eyes subtly linger on his form as he strips to change out of his sweaty clothes and into something comfier, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you want.

luckily for you, suna rintarou decided that being a genius is suddenly overrated.

————————

you sighed in content the moment you settled yourself on suna’s lap, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

you could feel the tension in his body relax at your warm weight, long arms coming to loosely wrap around your waist as he settled deeper into the couch.

suna knew he missed your presence, but he never realized how starved he was of your touch until you slowly began scratching his hair at the top of his neck soothingly, placing gentle kisses to his flesh.

he practically melted into a warm puddle and squeezed you a tad bit tighter, smiling softly at the way you giggled and continued your ministrations.

“i swear rin, if you were a cat you’d be purring right now.” you teased as your fingers never left his hair. all suna did was give a light amused huff, and you both settled into silence.

this was nice. you could be content with just this. having suna in your arms and relaxed against your couch is more than you’ve had in a while, and you tried to convince yourself that it was enough.

but suna could pick up on the way your kisses lingered a little too long against his neck without you realizing what you were doing, the way your thighs twitched gently from your straddled position in his lap.

you were trying so hard to stay still for him, not wanting to be a bother especially after such a tiring practice today, but you just couldn’t help it.

just the thought of his thick and long cock spearing you open had your thighs twitching again, but you made yourself relax as you took in a deep breath, filling your nose with the scent of him.

‘this is enough.’

as you fought to relax yourself and rid the dirty thoughts from your mind, you didn’t realize that your boyfriend had caught on to your mental battle.

he knew what you wanted, and to be honest he wanted to fuck just as badly as you did, but he just couldn’t find it within himself to put out the effort. so instead, another idea came to mind.

“y’know, if you wanted to sit on my cock so badly, you could’ve just told me, (y/n).” suna remarked nonchalantly and you froze in his lap, face burning at being caught while acting needy.

you buried your face deeper into his neck, denying his words. “never said i wanted to sit on your cock, dumbass…” you muttered into his neck, and suna raised a thin eyebrow in disbelief.

now out of all times, you wanted to be a brat?

“oh? so i misinterpreted things?” he mused and he rolled his eyes when you simply nodded into his neck, refusing to admit defeat.

you startled when you felt his large hands begin to move you off his lap, and you whipped your head up to look at him in confusion and concern.

suna leveled your gaze with that same eyebrow raised at you in amusement. “what? i thought you just wanted to just wanted to relax tonight and not sit on my cock?”

you whimpered in embarrassment but suna kept up with his act, wanting to see how long it’d take for you to break and finally beg.

so he continued to push you off of him slowly until you finally caved with a whine, locking yourself firmly on his lap as you gripped his arms in desperation.

a smug smirk curled his lips as he watched you begin to grind against him softly, big doe eyes staring up at him with all the lust and desperation you’ve been holding back for the past week.

“please rin,” you whined, slowly gyrating your hips into his, growing more frantic when you felt his cock rise and press against you through his sweats.

“i wanna be full of your cock so badly, please! i’ve been waiting like a good girl.” you whined, and suna groaned at how wanton you sounded, (s/c) cheeks dusted lightly with your blush.

you nearly cried when suna wordlessly pulled you up and began slipping your shorts and panties down. you eagerly stood up and wiggled out of them.

kicking them somewhere in the living room, you watched with hungry eyes as suna pulled his own sweats and underwear down.

his cock sprang free from its confines, and you began drooling at how hard he was already, fat tip flushed red and leaking precum down the side.

the vein trailing down its side was pulsing angrily with his heartbeat, and you knew he was just as frustrated with the lack of intimacy as you.

already coating your inner thighs with your arousal, you wasted no time situating yourself back in his lap, hovering your twitching entrance over his thick cock.

with firm hands on your waist as you held onto his shoulder, you both choked out moans as you slowly but surely impaled yourself on his cock.

you nearly cried as he stretched your walls apart, relishing in the feeling of being so full again.

as he finally bottomed out, plush tip jamming firmly against your cervix, you stared up at your boyfriend with love and lust swirling in your eyes, desperate to move.

suna hissed at the way you seemed even tighter than he remembered, wet walls clasping around him like velvet.

the urge to thrust into your tight heat until you were screaming his name made him almost feral, and he nearly began bucking his hips up when he remembered how you wanted to play coy and bratty earlier.

so he decided to do the next best thing.

bringing his face close to yours until your lips were barely brushing against one another, suna pulled you into a searing kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist as you eagerly kissed him back.

it was wet and messy with the desperation between the two of you, his tongue wasting no time to slip into your mouth and re-familiarize himself with your flavor.

you moaned into the kiss and tried to lift your hips to start moving, but suna’s grip on you kept you from rising. breaking away from him, you stared at him in confusion, lips wet and shiny.

“rin?” you questioned but your boyfriend simply ignored you, reaching to his side for the remote to the tv before switching it on and randomly clicking on a channel.

you stared at him in disbelief as the sound of guy fieri’s voice came softly from the flatscreen, and suna resisted the urge to smile as he settled back down, wrapping his arms around you again before leaning his chin on your shoulder.

there was no way he was gonna keep you like this, right?

but to your dismay, the longer the two of you sat there, suna’s cock hard and pulsing within your tight walls, the more jittery and whiny you became when he didn’t move.

you were desperate for some sort of friction, anything to ease the tension you felt throbbing in your core, but suna was having no of it.

you tried to wiggle in his arms, whimpering slightly as you jostled his cock within you, his member shifting to rub lightly against your g-spot.

a hiss left suna’s lips when you squirmed around, walls tightening as you desperately tried to get some friction.

a sharp cry left your lips when a heavy palm came cracking down against your ass cheek, halting your movements as you rested your forehead against his clothed chest, whimpering in pain and pleasure.

suna growled lowly into your ear, palm never leaving your stinging flesh as he gripped you tightly.

“now you wanna move?” he scoffed. “i thought you didn’t want my cock in you earlier, hm?”

“but i took it back and asked you for it!” you whined and suna pulled you back to gaze into your eyes.

even though he was your boyfriend, he was your best friend first, and you forgot how mean he could be when teasing you.

“you did, huh?” he scoffed again when you nodded your head rapidly, clenching around him again to try and entice him to move.

“well i’m just giving you what you wanted, baby girl. you wanted to sit on my cock, so you are.” you whimpered in despair when he stared directly into your eyes with a malicious gleam.

“i’m tired from practice and you feel so good around me,” he bucked his hips up into you lightly to emphasize his point, and you moaned wantonly as he hit your g-spot directly.

“so be a good girl for me and keep me warm. can you do that?”

suna smiled when you weakly nodded your head, sniffling quietly as your eyes began to fill with tears. he cooed as a couple drops fell to stream down your cheeks.

“my pretty little crybaby.” he mused as he brought a hand up to wipe your tears away. you let him do as he pleased and sat still for him like a good girl.

your earlier thought of retiring early tonight flashed by you, and you realized just how wrong your assumptions were.

—————————

suna was ninety-five percent sure that if he edged you one more time tonight and didn’t let you cum, he’d be a single man by the morning.

you were a crying, shivering mess in his lap at this point. your tears were soaking the fabric by his chest just as your drooling cunt was soaking the fabric of his sweats.

for hours now, the sun having gone down around the third or fifth time of you nearly reaching your climax, suna has been edging you as you warmed his cock.

eyes never leaving the tv, he would slowly grind against you till you were whining loudly in his ear.

sometimes if he felt you were getting too comfortable, eyes almost slipping shut in exhaustion, he would suddenly thrust harshly into your core, smashing directly into your g-spot before stilling again.

he began to feel particularly bad after holding you over the edge before pulling you away last time. your big (e/c) eyes were red from crying, tears freely flowing down your cheeks.

you were shaking like a leaf in his lap, hiccups jolting you every now and then as you tried to cling onto your fading orgasm as it died back down. but you were his good girl, not once trying to move in his lap.

that didn’t stop you from begging him, however.

in the beginning, suna just toned out your begging, keeping his attention on guy fieri driving around looking for the best diner’s, drive-in’s, and dives.

but when he finally decided to look down at you, your words slowly flowing through his ears again, his heart clenched and his dick throbbed at the sight of you practically destroyed on his lap.

so suna decided to take pity on you and actually began thrusting into you at a consistent pace, his own patience stretched thin at the feeling of your insides pulsing so tightly against him for hours.

but he stopped the moment you shook your head, weak fists coming to beat on his chest in retaliation.

he had to strain his hearing to catch onto your words, but when he did, his heart practically shattered when you were quietly crying on his lap.

“n-no more… i c-can’t t-take it!” you whimpered, and suna wrapped his arms securely around your form, whispering sweet praises into your hair as he gently rocked you back and forth. “y-you’re just g-gonna stop again...”

“it’s okay pretty girl, shh. don’t cry.” he murmured to you as you relaxed in his arms, no longer shaking but tears still dripping down your cheeks.

“i’m not gonna tease you anymore, you’ve been so good for me.” he whispered into your hair.

“can i make you feel good, (y/n)?” he asked you calmly, and he smiled when you shyly nodded your head.

“please make me feel good, rinrin. i missed you.” you sounded so small and sweet in his arms, so suna decided to finally give you what you’ve been craving for.

keeping his arms locked around your waist, he hooked his chin on your shoulder as he began to piston his hips into yours, cock pumping into you at a steady pace as he began to push you towards your orgasm for the last time.

you wailed as you finally received the constant pressure of his cock filling your insides, hitting your g-spot with deadly accuracy as you tipped dangerously close to the edge.

you both weren’t gonna last long and suna knew that, so he winded his hand down between your bodies and connected his fingers with your aching clit.

rubbing firm circles into your sensitive nub, suna brought you right to the cliff, and this time, he allowed you to fall over.

you came on his cock with a silent cry, eyes wide as tears streamed down your cheeks. the force of you clenching around him forced suna to meet his end as well, a low groan leaving his lips as he slowly pumped his hips into yours, filling your cunt to the brim.

suna snaked his hand back up to wrap around your waist, burying his tired face into your breasts, refusing to let go as you both caught your breath, boneless after such a drawn out session.

he melted into your chest when you tiredly brought a hand up to lazily run through his hair, and this time you swore he began purring.

still connected to one another, you both began drifting off on the couch, the tv’s low hum helping you both settle into much needed rest.

you fell asleep first, cheek resting on the top of his head as you both reclined into the plush couch. suna could feel your even breaths and steady heartbeat, and smiled into your flesh before drifting off himself.

“god, i’m so lucky to have a best friend like you. i wonder what cut of diamond you prefer?”

taglist: @lovelypasteldreams @living-for-drama @arixtsukki @month-seasoning @bakarinnie @yikerb

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Theitsa this is a big rant. I remember there was talk on this blog about paganism and modern worship of gods. In these two tik toks the guy speaks gold. As a N. African who tries to honour the old gods of my country, it feels so weird to see Western "witches" worship a list of gods and no actual connection to the cultures and practices they picked them up from. vm.tiktok(dot com)/ZMRSBkX6r/ and vm.tiktok(dot com)/ZMRSB8Mv4/ He brings up very good points. (part 1/?)

Mainly that many Americans do it for the aesthetic or the "omg so many cool gods for me to choose from!" and not out of cultural respect and deep knowledge.

As it's mentioned in the video, you can't be a pagan if you cherrypick 20 gods from 2-3 different religions (and if the syncretism of these gods or cultures never happened.) If the cultures were at war with each other (and thus their gods were on either side) it's unnatural to support both "sides". (But how would they know that? Most of them don't give a shit about history of the Mediterranean and the Middle East).

If you cherrypick 20 gods from 2-3 different religions/cultures then you are not exactly a "pagan", since historically groups of people considered pagans under one empire had each one their own set of gods. They didn't worship a Babylonian, a Norse and an Indian deity at the same time, I mean.

The man in the video says you can call yourself a polytheist in that case, but I would argue that even ancient polytheists were more consistent with deities, practices and culture than most people on the "community".

But their polytheism is a very superficial reconstruction. First of all because they don't even want to reconstruct it. They don't sacrifice bulls, they dont parade on the road on festive days, they don't visit the Pythia, they don't even have a clergy as a mediator as the ancient worshipers of these religions.

Don't get me started on people who never had any cultural relation to a country suddenly appointing themselves as clergy, without even being elected by anyone. Apparently each and every polytheist has a special connection to the deity and that grants them some authority to do rites themselves, to do temple worship at home. Who would have known that the next priest of Anubis would be Brandon from Ohio?

It's very strange that all these cultures still exist, and yet they hyperfixate on a certain aspect of their past - a past they don't know enough about to recreate! Worship any god you want but why are you reviving parts of a culture you never belonged to??? And in the hypothetical scenario you manage to do so, are you then re-developing the culture separately from its people? (And what happens if you need to incorporate elements from two or three cultures??)

Polytheism is more respectfully defined as worship + culture, but this is why modern reconstructed polytheism is a paradox. You can't recreate the culture! So much time has passed and so many cultural changes have taken place in the world that you are *bound* to be inaccurate when attempting reconstitution! You might as well create your own rules.

That's what a lot of people are doing, actually, and that's why they appear even more disconnected from the gods they worship. They strip them off many cultural elements, just to make them more palatable to their modern, western reality. They excuse this by saying "the gods are energy, they are not something specific, they are just interpretations of One thing". Well, according to who, Sarah? Your Christian background (and lack of research on opposing pantheons) is showing.

Yes they are not as material as we are, but, as you've said in this blog, the gods around the world are not "one". They are not interchangeable. They are not *one big vibe*. They don't have the same attributes or behaviours. And you can't separate them from their culture.

For me it's good to use some elements of ancient worship and read as many ancient texts as you can about the deity you worship. But don't speak about "reconstruction" when you've never lived the past or modern culture so long as to make it part of you.

They are even doing things which are not organic for their background and country they live in. Their mothers haven't covered their heads in a century or more, and suddenly they veil for a deity who doesn't even urges them to veil! It's modesty social rules from ancient empires they follow, not ecclesiastical canon. (Because they don't have one).

I cover my head but that has been a thousand years old tradition in my land and there was never a big historical gap in that part of our garment. I feel they choose veiling because it's a cool fashion choice from the ancient practices they are trying to "bring back to life". Hijabis are fighting for acceptance in western societies for part of their current (!) dresscode, and American witches veil because of women twenty centuries ago in other countries did it.

Yes, women covered their head in these countries for a long time after antiquity but these witches don't even know that. They only follow ancient trends. Ironically, Greek, Italian and Nordic women have stopped wearing headcovers altogether and even see headcovers as regression to extremely modest old fashion. So sometimes what the western witches are doing comes off as so tone deaf!

(Last part. Thanks for reading this and sorry for any grammar mistakes) ______________________ [END OF ASK]______________________

[mandoalorian]

Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 1 (SMUT)

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (male receiving oral), allusions to sex, reader works in a brothel, PTSD, anxiety, panic attack, mention of drugs, guns, character death, typical Narcos themes.

Word count: 4000>

Series Masterlist

*reblogs appreciated! Ko-Fi in bio if you want to support me!

It was the hottest summer in twenty years; or at least that’s what the weather lady had told you when you were getting ready for work this morning. 

You’d been searching for your best friend Rosa all over the brothel, asking your colleagues if they’d seen her anywhere. They all shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders before disregarding your presence completely so they could get back to their conversations. You understood their cold nature to a degree. You were new and fresh-faced in Bogotá, and this sex work was the only thing paying your rent. Sometimes you got the feeling they didn’t like you, but you did your best to shrug it off. The manner of your job wasn’t an easy one, that’s for sure. But Rosa had been with you from day one. Not only was she your only friend, but also, she was a mentor, and she taught you everything you needed to know about being a successful sex worker in the heat of Colombia.

You finally found Rosa outside the brothel, leaning against the brick wall, her sunglasses perched on the curve of her nose. Immediately something felt off. You couldn’t put your finger one what exactly it was, but everything about Rosa’s demeanor concerned you. The cigarette that she held between her fingers was almost completely puffed out, with just a noticeable pink lipstick stain on the foot of the filter paper. You stood next to her and leaned against the same wall, by her side. You noticed her shoulders relax a little at your presence, but Rosa still didn’t say a word. It was strange. She was usually bubbly and talkative, eager to tell you all the gossip she had learned from her clients. 

“Peppermint for your thoughts?” you asked Rosa, diving into your pocket and bringing out a carton of peppermint candies. As you waited for her response, you placed one on your tongue and sucked on it longingly. You’d been working long hours and it was the first thing you’d eaten all day.

“In a minute,” she said, dismissing the sweet and wiggling her finger in the air. She huffed and narrowed her eyes, watching the busy roads intently before taking one final drag off the cigarette. She stumped the end out and threw it away, but the cigarette that was once in between her lips was now replaced with her thumb as she nervously bit at her nails. “Has Limón  come by today?” she asked you eventually.

You knew the cab driver. He’d frequented the brothel a number of times. Rosa often had a lot to say about him until suddenly, she just didn’t.

“Not that I know of,” you replied innocently, but something still felt so incredibly wrong. “Rosa, is everything okay?”

Rosa’s head snapped to face you, and for the first time you noticed the fear strike in her honey coloured eyes. She sighed and pursed her lips together, before raising her hand and cupping your face. Her thumb grazed the height of your cheekbone and she finally smiled. But it wasn’t like her usual smile. It was soft and— sad.

“Of course,” she told you. “Nothing to worry about.”

And you knew better than to push Rosa, so you decided to leave it at that.

Silence with Rosa was comfortable. You both observed the bustling streets of Bogotá. You were thinking about the simpler things in life, like whether or not you could afford the luxury of canned spaghetti hoops in advance of this month’s rent payment, or where in the brothel you’d left your signature lipstick. Rosa, on the other hand…

“He’s an agent you know.” She announced suddenly.

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Who? Limón?”

Rosa let out a bark of incredulous laughter, and you assumed as such. “No no, not Limón. I’m talking about Peña.”

You felt your cheeks warm up at the initial mention of his name, and you tried to fight back a smile. You had to keep cool in front of Rosa. Sure, the whole brothel knew about your crush on your client but only Rosa’s opinion mattered to you. “Javier?” you quizzed, as if you needed to question who Peña could possibly be.

Rosa rolled her eyes playfully and you stifled a laugh, realising how silly you sounded. “You’ve got it bad huh?” Rosa acknowledged and you felt a flush of shame creep upon your cheeks. “It’s okay. When I first started out I had countless crushes on my clients.” she confessed, and her revelation made you feel somewhat better about yourself.

“How do you know that… about Javier?” you wondered out loud, biting your lip and trying to sound as casual as possible. You’re the girl he’d been fucking with for the past two months and he hadn’t dared open up to you about a single personal detail in his life. Truth be told, that’s what made him different from the other guys. So if anyone was to know anything about the man, it should be you. Why wasn’t it you? You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that your beautiful best friend was seemingly omniscient. “Have… have you been sleeping with him?”

Rosa frowned apologetically and smoothed out your hair. “No honey. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she promised and you nodded your head slowly. You had no reason not to believe her but she still hadn’t answered your question. Just as you went to prod her further, she opened her mouth. “But be careful. Crushes on clients can be dangerous. You never really know who you’re working with. Javier has a… reputation amongst the brothels in Bogotá.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat… a lump that you didn’t even realise you were holding back. “He seems nice. Respectful.” you admitted with a slight shrug of your shoulders. You’d be foolish to dismiss a word of advice from Rosa, but warning you about Javier…? You knew him better than that. You knew him. You had every inch of his body memorised. You could spot his scent from a mile away. You knew he was a good guy.

Rosa hummed slightly before squinting at an oncoming truck that was pulling up outside the brothel. “Speak of the devil.” She muttered.

“Javier!” you couldn’t help but beam excitedly. You quickly turned to face Rosa. “Could I borrow your lipstick? I lost mine and I-” Out of nowhere, Rosa pulled out her pink lipstick and passed it to you. You took it willingly and gave her a quick hug of gratitude. “Thank you.” you mumbled into her neck before pulling away. 

“Be careful!” Rosa called after you as you ran back inside the brothel and into the lobby where you’d wait for Javier.

Be careful. You chuckled a little at her words. You had nothing to worry about. You quickly applied your lipstick with as much precision as possible and checked your hair in one of the many mirrors. Your heart rate picked up speed the second you saw him enter the lobby. Today, he was wearing one of his trademark colourful button down shirts - this one, a pale yellow colour that was comparable to the sunshine. He was frowning, just like always, but the bright colour on him radiated an air of enlightenment.

He looked around the lobby in search of you, and when his eyes finally landed on you, he immediately felt at ease. You waved him over with a smirk and he took off his aviators, hanging them in the v of his shirt. His eyes were beautiful, like the deepest shade of cocoa. You made an unfortunate habit of getting lost in them at any given moment.

“Hi Javi,” you cooed, placing the palm of your hand on his chest. “You’re early today.”

“I can’t stay long,” he grumbled. “Have to get back to the office. Can we make it quick?”

You tilted your head curiously. “What do you have in mind?”

Javier brought out his wallet and handed you enough peso’s to cover an easy blowjob. He looked up at you, hopefully, with an adorable sheepish grin on his face. You took the money from him and nodded your head before taking his hand and guiding him to your room.

It was the room he’d grown completely accustomed to the past few months. He knew his way around. He was comfortable. He closed the door behind him and immediately worked at undoing his belt. You glanced over at his payment that you’d discarded on your dresser and thought long and hard. You really liked Javier. Enough so that you felt weird about taking his money. He was different to the other guys. You fucked men because they were paying you, but you fucked Javier because you liked it. You wanted it. Every second he wasn’t with you… you only craved him more.

Too lost in your own thought, you’d forgotten the man of your dreams was standing by the door waiting to get sucked off. He cleared his throat awkwardly and your head snapped in his direction to face him, your eyes going comically wide. You felt embarrassed that you’d left him waiting and quickly paced over to him, kneeling down and unzipping his denim jeans. He was already hard, judging by the familiar shaped imprint against his thigh.

“Everything okay?” he hummed as you pulled out his cock. His question turned into a slight garble as soon as your fingers graced his leaking head. You gathered his precum and rubbed it along his thick length and his eyes immediately snapped shut.

“Yes. Why?” you asked innocently before pressing a kiss to his slit. You looked up at him through your eyelashes with wide doe-eyes.

“Looked like something was preying on your mind.” Javier muttered, scrunching his face up in pleasure as you licked a stripe along the base of his cock. You extended your hand to massage his balls and you continued to pump at his length.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” You beckoned further. “To let go?”

“Fuck,” Javier hissed. “More.” he pleaded and you quickly obeyed, wrapping your lips around his head and pushing his cock deep into your mouth. You felt his body tense up and he threw his head back against the wooden door. “More!” he choked out.

You hollowed your cheeks and sank your lips as far as you could go, so his groomed pubic hair tickled the tip of your nose. Tears began to prick your eyes and you pulled off him quickly to gasp for breath. Javier was heaving and panting too, and you took a second to look up at him and lick your lips. He was so perfect, a thin sheen of sweat glistened along his collarbones, only just noticeable under the dim amber lights of your room. Before he could catch you staring like a hopeless lovebird, you reattached your lips around his cock and finished up the blowjob, feeling more than satisfied when his ropes of cum spilled into your mouth.

Once his cock softened enough to tuck himself back in, he zipped up his jeans and redone his belt but not before helping you stand. Meeting respectful guys like Javier Peña in your line of work was a rarity, that’s for sure. Still you couldn’t help but think about Rosa’s words as you watched him smooth out his shirt. No visible police badge. No signs that he was an agent. To say it irked you was an understatement. How did she know he was an agent? There wasn’t a chance he told her… not when he was so secretive with you. You’d been fucking him for two months now and you didn’t know a single detail about his life. You didn’t know where he lived, or how old he was, or if he had any siblings. Rosa might have been your best friend, and she swore to you that she wasn’t sleeping with him on the side, so how did she know?

Of course, it could’ve easily all been bullshit. She could’ve been scheming a way to get you to fall out of love with him. Nobody likes a cop. You couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard you tried, but you knew for sure Rosa would never want to hurt you. You were annoyed for letting yourself get so irrational. You just wished… you wished that he’d talk to you. Treat you more than just some whore he got to use at his own beck and call. Your stomach twisted when you realised that was exactly all you were. A fool facing the wrath of unrequited love. You sighed and grabbed his jacket from the bed.

“Thank you,” he said, taking his jacket and swinging it over his strong forearm. It was too hot outside to wear. You nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything.

For the first time since meeting Javier Peña, you had let yourself get hurt, and for no good reason either. You couldn’t confront him about it. You couldn’t tell him no matter how much he asked you. You just had to suck it up and get over him. He was a client and that was all he could be. Nothing more. Rosa was right. Falling for your customers was a dangerous deal.

“You’re my favourite, you know.” Javier announced, his voice low and heated. You locked your eyes on his. 

“What?” you asked, completely taken aback. 

“You’re my favourite girl,” he clarified with a small shrug, as if his comment wasn’t life-changing. Just like that, you were once again putty in Javier Peña’s hands. Your determination to get over him lasted all of five seconds. Before you could reply, he took a step closer to you, breaking any distance and placed a hand on your cheek. He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin noticeably longer than usual.

You weren’t mad anymore. Your feelings for him were restored just like that. Your eyes were wide as he pulled away from you and licked his lower lip. You felt like you were melting over the sweet menial gesture. You wanted to say something - anything. You wanted to pull him on top of you and crash your lips against his. But no matter how hard you tried to say something, no words came out. All you could manage was a shy little smile. It was the same smile that made Javier’s knees weak. He squeezed his hand into a fist to resist the urge of kissing your perfect lips and instead readjusted his sunglasses. You ducked your head down shyly and opened the door for him.

“Stay safe.” he uttered.

The same two words he told you after every visit. Stay safe. It was almost as if your client had a genuine care for you. You nodded in affirmation and offered him one last smile before he left the brothel and headed back to ‘the office’. Do agents even work in offices? You wondered.

You paced around the corridors of the brothel to find Rosa, wanting to return her lipstick and also tell her about Javier. You were excited. He really said you were his favourite girl. Out of all the girls, you were his favourite. To say you were beaming was an understatement. 

You caught her speaking to Javier as he walked out the brothel front door and you felt an anxious knot in your stomach tighten. It was hard to make out from the distance, but by the looks of it, Rosa was crying. The conversation was only brief, and Javier nodded along to whatever she was saying, before handing her a card and leaving for good. You officially had questions. You went to push through the crowds of people but a man much taller and larger than you placed a hand on your shoulder and pushed you back.

“Whoa,” you stumbled. “Can I help you?” He made some crude gesture with his fingers indicating the type of sex he wanted with you and you couldn’t help but scrunch up your nose in disdain. “Yeah okay,” you agreed with a small sigh. “Just a second though, I have to find someone. My room is 20 if you would like to wait for me--”

“No,” he growled, pinning you against the wall. “Now.”

You glanced behind his shoulder searching for Rosa but she had evidently already disappeared. 

“Okay.” you huffed, pulling yourself out of his grip and leading him to your room. You supposed you could tell Rosa about Javier after you’d dealt with this guy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He’d left about ten minutes ago, and you were just finishing up in your room, getting ready to clock out of work and call it a day. The brothel lobby was often loud and bubbly, but the second you heard all the muffled chatter stop, you knew something was up. You pulled your purse over your shoulders and locked your room before walking down the corridor. As you approached the lobby, you heard loud footsteps and yelling. The second you stepped foot in the main room, you saw the man Rosa had been asking you about earlier in the day, and your heart sank.

“Where the fuck is she?” Limón shouted. He and another man paced around in circles. It had gone quiet because the men had the other girls, your colleagues, pressed against the wall, holding guns to their heads. Your eyes widened in horror and you immediately brought your hands up in the air to surrender.

“Are none of you whores talking? Where the fuck is she?” the other man hissed. 

“La Quica,” — so that was his name — “Shut the fuck up. You’ll draw unwanted attention.”

They hadn’t noticed you yet. There was still time to escape. But your feet were frozen to the ground. How could you dare run away and leave the girls here, unable to fend for themselves?

Limón pressed the handgun to Martzia’s head. “Where is she?” he spat.

“Who?” Martzia gasped.

“Rosa!” Limón bellowed, clocking the gun in anger. “Where the fuck is Rosa?”

“I- I don’t know!” Martzia cried. She was visibly shaking in terror. All the girls were.

“Bullshit!” Limón snapped back, and within a second, he pulled the trigger and Martzia was dead on the floor.

On impulse, you looked away, but you’d already caught an eye-full. Martzia’s blood was not only on the wall behind her, but it was on Juliet too, who was now a whimpering mess. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength to look back at the girls. Most of them had their eyes closed and their tear stained cheeks glistened under the dingy lights.

“You. Shut the fuck up.” Limón  growled before moving over to Juliet and pressing the gun against her head. She choked out a sob and apparently that was enough for Limón to pull the trigger on her as well. You slammed your hands against your mouth and let out an incomprehensible noise. That got Limón and La Quica’s attention. La Quica grabbed you and pinned you up against the wall so you were only centimetres away from Martzia and Juliet’s limp bodies.

“How long has that bitch been standing there for?” Limón asked angrily and La Quica shrugged his shoulders. Limón pulled on your hair so he could get a good look at your face. “Hey La Quica this whore must be new. Haven’t seen her around before. Nice ass too.” He smirked, wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing it. “Do you know where Rosa is?”

You didn’t. But neither did Martzia and that had got her killed. Even if you did know where Rosa was, you wouldn’t give up that information. You couldn’t. Your heart was slamming against your chest and when you felt the handgun press in between your shoulder blades you thought you were going to pass out right then and there.

“Limón.”

It was her. It was Rosa. You felt the handgun slowly slip away from your back as both Limón and La Quica turned around to face your best friend. When you were certain they weren’t looking at you anymore, you turned around too so you could take a look at Rosa yourself. When your eyes met hers, you saw her face soften.

“Rosa!” Limón hissed, running over to the girl. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me it wasn’t you.” Limón grabbed on to Rosa and began to shake her. “My apartment was fucking raided, Rosa. A kilo of coke, gone. They know. They know we’ve been chauffeuring Escobar.”

You were baffled. We? She’d been helping chauffeur Pablo fucking Escobar? You shook your head in disbelief, praying it wasn’t true. She’d been lecturing you about the dangers of your job when she’d been doing the most dangerous thing of all. And how could she not tell you? If she had just told you… maybe you could’ve helped her. Maybe you could’ve done something. It couldn’t be true.

“I called the cops,” Rosa confessed, her voice emotionless and her face stone cold. “I called the cops and they put me through to the DEA immediately. I met with an agent. I told him everything I knew. I ratted you out Limón, and you should thank me.”

Limón raised his hand and slapped Rosa across the face. “You bitch!” He shouted. “How could you do this to me Rosa? How could you fucking--”

Then, a gunshot.

The sound was blinding and everything went in slow motion. You swore that your heart stopped beating as tears streamed down your face. You screamed as you watched her body fall to the ground.

“La Quica you fucker! You killed her! You killed Rosa!” Limón cried out in anguish, grabbing his friend by the shoulders. “What the fuck man! What the fuck!”

“She confessed,” La Quica huffed, trying to calm his friend. “I know you liked her but she’s a fucking whore, Limón! She made her mouth go. She’s the reason you had the fucking DEA sniffing out your apartment. We’re not only in trouble with the cops but if Escobar finds out… shit man. I’m scared.” 

Both La Quica and Limón were visibly freaking out. They had put their guns away at least, but they were pacing around in circles again and shouting at each other. But you couldn’t hear a single thing. You couldn't see anything... just the blur of their bodies. You couldn’t smell and your fingers felt numb. You felt like you were falling. Your chest was tight and your heart was broken.

“We have to run Limón, three fucking gunshots. Three dead bodies. The cops have probably already been called.” La Quica informed Limón as he helped coach his friend’s panicked breathing. You looked down at Martzia and Juliet’s bodies on the floor and then your gaze followed over to Rosa’s body. As the men scrambled out the brothel, you fell to your knees and crawled over to your best friend.

“Rosa,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you picked up and cradled her body in your arms. Her blood was all over you, and you felt like you could throw up at any second. “Rosa please. I- Rosa. No no no what… What did you do Rosa?” You chanted your best friend's name and cried into her body.

What did she do?

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[drwcn]

maybe after today’s acls training i can finally write that chengqing ER oneshot. 

— “Patient male, mid-twenties, motor vehicle collision, eta 3 mins” 

— “What no vitals? No GCS? ETA 3 mins? Who’s on the paramedic team?!” 

— “No one….Dr. Lu hit someone with her car on her way out of the hospital.” 

【A Midnight Conversation in Your Local ER】- Complete

[1] 

The night hunt had gone to shits.

That much was undeniable.

Jiang Cheng heard the panicked shout of his disciples just as he saw the array that he had stepped on.

Fuck.

The ghost of an once mediocre demonic cultivator wanna-be was going to bring Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wanyin - the Sandu Shengshou - to meet his maker. The irony of the situation would be laughable, if he wasn’t so irrevocably screwed.

That was his last thought before his entire body was engulfed by a blinding light and the world he knew disappeared.

The ground beneath his feet gave away, weightlessness paralyzing his body though he did not fall. He felt…launched, his body warping and squeezing and stretching, the air sucked from his lungs into the endless black vacuum.

But just like that it was over. Jiang Cheng barely had time to make peace with his death before his feet touch solid earth again.

Or at least….he thought it was earth, this black, tarry hard thing striped with yellow and white. He stared at it dumbly, breathless and disoriented, barely able to react when a loud blare assaulted his senses and his world went blindly bright yet again.

This time there was pain.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu, ready to fight, but then his head hit the ground and everything went dark. When he woke up again, an indeterminate amount of time later, he was in a small tube and had a distinct feeling he was not wearing pants, socks or shoes.

How the fuck do you ‘scan’ a cat???  

[2]

Method actor. The nurse, from the other side of the curtain, mouthed silently.

“Sir, can you tell me your name.”

“Jiang Cheng, Jiang Wangyin.”

The resident paused, awkwardly contemplating how to continue. “Uh…..which is it? Jiang Cheng or Jiang Wanyin?”

“Jiang Cheng, zi Wanyin.”

“Traditional parents?” The resident tried to crack a joke, but it fell flat. The strange man stared up at him with a blank look in his eyes and a frown that was rapidly deteriorating into a scowl. The resident cleared his throat and cast his eyes back onto his clipboard. “Uh, ahem, just the name on your ID please.”

“My what?" 

"Your personal ID….like a driver’s license?”

“Cultivators of the gentry fly on swords or ride horses. We do not rely on carriage valets.”

“Eh… right. Uhm, can you tell me how old you are and what year it is.”

“I’m 39, and the year is jiachen.”

Lu Qi frowned from where she stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her resident and medical student work. 39? He looks like a college student. But he also thinks he can fly, so I guess age is the least of our worries. 

“Jiachen.…?”

The M3 fished his phone out from his scrub pocket pocket and typed it in. “Sounds like the ganji system, like an old timey way to record year used in the past.” He whispers clandestinely to the resident.

“….Right. And uh, do you where you are?”

The man scowled at him. “Am I supposed to?” 

The resident scribbled something on the chart, and then looked up with a plastered awkward smile. “Well, thank you Mr. Jiang for your patience. Wang Fei here is the medical student on our team. He’s going to stay and ask you a couple more questions if you don’t mind. Afterwards we’ll confer with our attending and the team will be back to see you shortly.”

As he turned away, the R3 grimaced and shared a look with Lu Qi, who was the youngest attending physician in their ER, but was not technically working at the moment and so was not on the case. And technically, as the perpetrator who hit Jiang Cheng with her car, she had a severe conflict of interest.

At least this Jiang Cheng dude didn’t seem keen on pressing personal charges against her for MVA or suing the hospital in general… but that being said…

Yeah, they’re going to need a psych consult. 

Unless he’s on acid. 

Well… okay, psych consult either way. 

[3]

"It’s okay, you can relax.” Jiang Cheng said, waving dismissively at the woman standing by his bedside. “I’m not going to take you to the magistrate for hitting me with your carriage - car. You didn’t mean to, and I just came out of nowhere.” 

“....Thank you.” 

“You’re not Wen Qing. I know that now. Your name is Lu Qi. You can call off those psychia - psych - psychics - head healers - or whatever, I’m not crazy. It’s not my fault, you just… look so much like someone I used to know."

"Wen Qing.” Lu Qi echoed. 

“Yeah. Wen Qing. She was a healer - a doctor - like you, but different.” 

“I see. What happened to her?"

"She died. Almost twenty years ago."

"I'm sorry... that's awful.” Lu Qi’s response rolled off her tongue so well, because she had said those word a thousand times during her residency. So much so that it no longer had much meaning to her. Tonight however, she meant what she said. “Were you two close?"

"No, well…yes, maybe. No we weren’t exactly friends if that’s what you’re asking. She...operated on me. Without my consent or knowledge. Took my brother’s golden core and put it in me and then lied with my brother to my face about it. So no we weren’t “close”, but Wen Qing saved my life - well the purpose of it anyway. Saved me from a life of ordinariness.” 

Lu Qi did allow herself to dwell too much on what the fuck a “golden core” was, because her gut response was almost instantaneous. “That’s shitty of her.”

She clamped down on her tongue. 

God, why did I have to say that? To his face?! He was obviously in love with this Wen Qing person and they were encroaching on some dangerous emotional territories, but Lu Qi swallowed down her caution and plowed on nevertheless. There were things she felt she had to say, and since she’d already hit him with her car, how much worse could this shit get? “What I mean is she shouldn’t have. Not without telling you. Besides...there’s nothing wrong with ordinary.” 

Jiang Cheng chuckled bitterly. “Maybe you’re right. Still...she didn’t deserve to die. What her clan did was not her fault.” 

Now that threw Lu Qi off. Did this guy...kill her? 

Lu Qi half wondered if she stumbled upon a Yakuza-esque member whose psyche finally snapped after years of murder and violence. And yet, he seemed perfectly coherent, no flight of ideas, no tangential thought, no hallucations. Even his delusions seemed...logical. 

I must be the one losing, damnit.  

Jiang Cheng scratched a little at his chest, as if palpating for the “golden core” that he spoke of. "She saved my life, but when she needed help, I couldn't save her. But, if I were to go back… I can't say I'll choose differently. My clan needed me, my clan who was almost cleansed by hers. No, no I wouldn’t choose differently. I don’t regret my choices, but I am sorry. Sorry to her, sorry to my brother. I'll always be sorry that she died, and that I failed her when she needed me." 

Jiang Cheng had no idea why he was telling this stranger any of this, but maybe after twenty years, he was finally ready to address this guilt that he lived with. I mean who else was he supposed to tell? Jin Ling? It was nice, to have that face as an audience, receiving his words of confession. 

"She would forgive you." 

Lu Qi had no idea why she was offering absolution as if she had authority in this matter, but when she said it, the conviction she felt was so real, it was almost as though some external force was acting through her.

Which was ridiculous of course, but... 

"How do you know? You're not her." Jiang Cheng shook his head. “I wouldn’t forgive me.” 

"No, but you said she was a physician. So she should know, more than most, that sometimes there is no choosing who gets to live or die."

Jiang Cheng fell quiet at that, and his gaze grew distant. Lu Qi thought perhaps he was no longer seeing her as she was in front of him - white coat, scrubs, stethoscope -  but someone entirely different. The tension he held in his shoulders slowly eased, and he sighed. In the silence that stretched between them, Lu Qi hoped that this strange man with his strange past could find a sliver of peace. 

[4]

— Did you love her? 

— I thought so, foolishly, but maybe I didn’t. Even if I did, it was not well enough. 

— Do you love her still? 

— No... I don’t know. It’s been too long...but sometimes, late at night when Lotus Pier is quiet, I think I do. 

...

— Are you ashamed of it? 

...

— No. No I’m not. 

[5]

The patient known as Jiang Cheng left AMA, that is, against medical advice. It was the term they used sometimes for people who just up and leave without informing the team. 

Lu Qi had gone out to check on his labs, which came back with bonker numbers (I mean really, a hemoglobin of 455, sodium of 200, and a HCO3 of like...3?), but Jiang Cheng was gone from Bay 6 when she returned. The nurse made the overhead page, a code yellow was called, but four hours later, Lu Qi was ready to admit that she was never going to see this Jiang Cheng ever again. 

Somehow, she was okay with that. She had said what needed to be said.  

Her chief had given her a call on her cell and told her to go home and sleep. The guy didn’t look like he was gonna press charges, let’s count our blessings and move on. But the night had just been too damn strange that Lu Qi was all wired up from it and couldn’t possibly fall asleep. She had handover at 10 anyway. There was a change of clothes and toiletries in her bag. She could always take a shower in the anesthesia staff’s on call room and sleep until then. 

Dr. Sun was the anesthesia staff on-call tonight and was currently stuck in trauma OR. They were buddies since medschool; she’d understand.

Sighing, Lu Qi took a seat on the bench across from the bougie cafe in the lobby of the hospital. At this hour, it was the only one still open in the entire facility. The drinks they sold cost an arm and a leg, but Lu Qi needed the pick-me-up after the night she had. 

As she nursed the last bit of her matcha latte, two bickering voices pulled her attention to the front entrance. 

“Aiyo, A-Liang I already said I’m fine! I don’t need to be here!” 

“Fuck out of here with that bullshit, Chen Zhaoxi. You fell off the fucking roof! If Wu Kun hadn’t called me, you’d have gone on -”

It was him! Lu Qi shot up. It was Jiang Cheng! 

But no...no it wasn’t him. The well-dressed man dragging the second man (dressed in red pajamas) into the hospital was not Jiang Cheng. He had the same face - chiselled, handsome, scowling - but it wasn’t him. For one, his hair was trimmed short and neat, unlike Jiang Cheng who looked like he walked straight out of a BL xianxia tv drama. Secondly, his face was softer, eyes younger, and he couldn’t have been older than Lu Qi herself in her early thirties. 

“I was just trying to get to the litter of kittens trapped -”

“Yes, yes, and it was very heroic and I’m sure it would’ve made Wu Kun very horny, and you morons probably would’ve fucked once he got home had you not made a valiant attempt at breaking your neck -” 

“Excuse me,” the security guard manning the information desk chastised sharply. “It’s 4am. This is a hospital! Lower your voices, sirs.” 

“Sorry.” The men apologized sheepishly. 

Then, A-Liang, Jiang Cheng’s doubleganger asked, “Could you please direct us to the ER? This is my brother, he fell off a roof.” 

Lu Bin had no idea what possessed her to interject. “I can take you there.” 

All eyes fell on her. She walked towards them, heart pounding. 

This can’t be happening, this kind of thing just can’t happen... 

A-Liang’s face broke into a grateful smile. “Thank you, Miss -” Then his gaze trailed to her badge, and he corrected himself, “Dr. Lu. I’m Shen Liang. This is my brother Chen Zhaoxi. I think he fractured...well multiple things, please help him.” 

“Of course, come with me. Let’s get him a wheelchair. If he fractured is leg, he probably shouldn’t be walking.” 

“I didn’t fracture -” 

“You, you shut up.” Shen Liang rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He can lose three out of four limbs and say ‘ t’s but a flesh wound’.” 

Lu Qi couldn’t help but chuckle as she put an arm under the complaining Chen Zhaoxi and helped him towards the wheelchair. 

Shen Liang’s smile widened. 

[Extra]

“Holy shit, took you long enough!” 

When Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui finally dragged Jiang Cheng to their portal site, Jiang Cheng realized that the transportation talisman had created a channel through realities between what looked like two metal garbage dumpsters in a back alley behind a food establishment marked by giant yellow bunny ears.

Standing guard there, Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen were each munching on a strange layered bread and holding tall drinks contained in...what was it called again? Right. Styrofoam. 

“What is that?” Jin Ling wrinkled is nose at it. Brat. 

“It’s a Big Mac.” Replied Lan Jingyi as if Jin Ling was stupid. “And this is a milk shake.” 

Jin Ling scowled. “I said the bag of gold I gave you was for emergencies.” 

“Yeah but we were hungry.” Ouyang Zizhen defended. He neglected to tell them that the cashier had refused to accept the gold and instead asked for “cash” or “card”, neither of which they had, so Zizhen used a liiiiil confounding talisman he learned from Wei Wuxian. They did leave more than enough gold though...and that ought to cover the restaurant’s cost for their “burger”lary . Reaching into the brown paper bag he held under one arm, Zizhen pulled out a little box that opened to show pieces of... something. “These are chicken nuggets. They’re delicious! Try one! They’re really good with this sauce....hold on...” 

Lan Sizhui sighed. “We don’t have time for this. The portal will close soon. Let’s get Jiang-zongzhu home and we can sample these exotic food later.” 

The boys agreed. 

Jiang Cheng shook his head and huffed. 

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Welcome To The Family (5/???)

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / here

Had no idea how to connect with Aizawa. Hopefully, this works. Sorry about my hyperfixation on this. 

Warnings- some swearing

---------------------------------------------------------------

I get ready for yet another day of babysitting Eri. Thinking back on the festival yesterday, the uncomfortable feeling between the two men is something I’d rather not experience again if possible. They’re together as well, so why did Hizashi put me between them? I could have sat on the other side of him if he wanted me beside him so bad. Don’t think Aizawa was too happy about it either with the narrow look he gave me, now that I think about it. It’s best to try to avoid those situations in the future.

While in my mind, I didn’t notice my friend in front of me and bumped into them. Ryo doesn’t look too good. They have bigger eyebags than I’ve ever seen and are frowning with their arms crossed. “Glad to catch you. I stayed up all night waiting for you.”

“Ryo, whatever it is, you could have just texted or called me.”

They frown deeper. “I’ve been trying to stay happy for you, I really have. I and a few of the others really miss you hanging out with us. We’ll even blast your favorite song the whole day and night. Just… Please join us for a whole day once again.”

I knew what they were getting at. Damn it, guilt is really starting to rise in me. I desperately want to hang out with them, but that stupid dinner I’m pretty much forced to go to this Sunday… Ugh, why couldn’t they wait until next Sunday!? “I’m sorry, Ryo, but they want me to babysit the kids again this Sunday. I told them I’m not available next Sunday though! We can hang out then!”

Their frown goes deeper than ever seen by me. “Come on, Y/N! We haven’t had a day to hang out properly in like, what? Months? Every time you return you’re too tired to join us. Those damn kids can go ONE. DAY. without you taking care of them. Don’t you think you’ve done enough for them yet!? The only day we had was Sunday, but for the last few you’ve been stuck with them AGAIN. For how much you take care of them, the adults shouldn’t even HAVE them!”

I nearly snapped at them for the last thing they said. They seem angry though, so I try to not let it get to me too much, or it could end badly for both of us.

It’s easy to tell they all care for each other, and taking one of them away from their little family would be greatly unethical. What also holds me back is remembering Ryo doesn’t know the story of the kids, or that the adults are heroes and teachers. Man, I wish I could tell them. Surprised they haven’t made the connection themselves yet of at least figuring out they’re teachers. “Their jobs are highly demanding. Trust me, they’d much rather be with their kids if they could. I’ve seen how they act towards them.”

“That doesn’t mean shit. For all you know, it could just be a front!”

I shake my head. “Don’t think so. Pretty sure one of them would be incredibly bad at acting.”

They glare at me. “Whatever you think.” They then storm off, leaving more guilt to eat away at me. Ugh, I feel like crying out of frustration.

The mold-quirked male comes up to me when Ryo leaves. “Sorry about them. They’re kinda in a bad spot with the police right now. They got a little too drunk and spat at an officer yesterday.”

“Again? I thought they learned their lesson last time from me scolding them.”

“Sadly, no. I think they’re losing control since their impulse control is gone.”

Now I’m more annoyed than guilt-ridden. Ryo is a few years older than me. They shouldn’t be such a child about it and need my help when they decide to drink too much. “Thanks for informing me, uh… sorry, I don’t think you ever told me your name.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Right! Just call me by my first name, Tadao.”

First name basis off the bat is a little weird, but he says it, so sure. “Right! Tadao, Can you keep an eye on them for me still? I’m still rather busy as you might have noticed.”

He nods. “I can do that. Just do me a favor, and try to take it easy for yourself one of these days. You seem a little worn out yourself recently.”

I shrug. “It’s more of what’s happened lately, and what’s on my mind I think.”

He seems unsure about my answer if anything about his dark brown eyes is to go by. He just nods again though and goes to follow Ryo.

I push what just happened to the back of my mind and head towards their home again. After the Ferris Wheel yesterday, Hizashi gave me a key and told me to use it to enter their house from now on since they might be too busy to answer the door. They haven’t had trouble answering the door before, but I’ve learned by now to not question Hizashi’s sporadic way of mind. It doesn’t ease the discomfort that I feel like I’m intruding by randomly entering their house though.

I unlock the door and enter to see a rather concerned Eri hugging the new stuffed animal with the dog and the bunny. “Hey, Eri. What’s wrong?”

It looks like she’s torn from being happy to see me, to having great worry. “Dad’s sick.”

Aizawa’s sick? He was just fine yesterday. I think she calls Aizawa “dad” and Hizashi “daddy” if I’ve noticed correctly. Sometimes it’s really confusing having same-sex parents and trying to know which they’re referring to. “Is Aizawa okay?” I ask, just to be sure it’s the right one.

She nods.

Hitoshi comes into the living room. “He’ll be fine. It was a quirked villain from the ambush yesterday. It’s not contagious, but he’s not allowed to go to the school for twenty-four hours. The principal said he’d have the other teachers kick him out if he enters the school. Even Recovery Girl and no one wants to deal with her wrath.”

“Recovery… Girl?”

He looks like he wants to slap himself. “Right. Uh… She’s the healer after our fights basically.”

“The name makes sense then.”

He nods. “In his shape, he can’t take care of Eri though, so we didn’t tell you to not come.”

“Sounds good,” I smirk, though internally I’m cringing at the thought of being alone with the quiet man. “So, you guys want me to check in on him a few times today as well I’m guessing?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “If you wouldn’t mind, that is. It’s obviously not something you’re hired for.”

I shrug. “It should be fine. I don’t think he’ll be very demanding of me doing things for him if I know him well enough by now.”

Hitoshi smirks in reply to me. “He’s too stubborn to even take cough medicine.”

“I didn’t expect anything different.” Seems rather childish though for a full-grown man. Not like I’d ever say that to his face though.

Hizashi comes out of what must be their bedroom and sees me. “Heya, little lovesong! Did these two fill ya in already?”

Love… song? What’s with the sudden nickname? He always seems to call people “listeners” or whatever, so maybe it’s just a more friendly type of thing?

He also makes his arms go outstretched and looks at me expectantly. He wants me to hug him? Again, this is really sudden.

Screw it, it won’t hurt anything, right? It’s just a hug. I hug him.

He squeezes a little too tightly and wouldn’t let me go for an almost awkward amount of time, even when I try to pull away.

I pat his back to try to get him to let go. “That’s long enough I think. You might want to go before you and Hitoshi are late for school.”

He lets go. “Right! C’mon, little Hypno-man!”

“Little? I’m almost as tall as you.”

“But you’re not yet!” He shouts as he bolts out the door. Hitoshi quickly goes after him. It just leaves a silence between Eri and me. I shake my head at their antics and look at Eri. “Do you think they even left him a glass of water or something before taking off?”

“Daddy gave him water before. A long time ago.”

A long time ago probably means a few hours at most. I sigh. Better check on him then. I go towards the door of their bedroom and knock on it. He doesn’t answer. Oh well, he must not need anything that badly. No, I’m not just trying to stay away from him as much as possible.

I go to walk away, but Eri gently grabs my hand and leads me back to the bedroom door.

“Why do you keep staying away from dad?” she asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to play dumb. She doesn’t need to know about adult things yet, such as not everyone will like someone. That should be their job to teach her. “Toshi and daddy notice you avoid him. He’s not mean though!”

Do I really have to tell her? Her questioning eyes are begging me to answer.

“It’s just… I don’t think your dad likes me very much. There will always be people who don’t like a person for one reason or another. I don’t know why your dad doesn’t like me, but I respect his decision and want to let him keep his space.”

“But dad doesn’t hate you!” She huffs.

That's a surprise to me. “Unless he tells me otherwise, I’m going to keep believing he does. And honestly, your dad kinda scares me.”

She looks away. “He can be kinda mean sometimes,” she looks back at me. “But he really cares for people!”

A part of me doubts it, but another part can kind of see it, especially with how he acts with Eri and Hitoshi.

I decided to try changing the topic. “I’ll check him in a bit. He probably doesn’t want to be bothered right now. Let’s go play with your stuffed animals for now.” I try to walk away again.

Yet again, she grabs my hand and drags me to the door. She opens it without knocking and makes me enter as well. I noticed the rather large bed before anything. It couldn’t have been a king. Definitely something bigger than that. It has a light red and black blanket covering the whole bed, including the paler-than-usual man under it. His eyes are open and looking at us, but surprisingly, he’s not glaring. I thought he would be from an interrupted entry…

I notice the empty glass on the nightstand next to him. “I’ll get you more water.” I then grab the glass and go to the kitchen. Eri stayed in the bedroom. While filling the glass, one of the cats rubs their head against my leg. The white eyebrows make me know who it is instantly. “Hey, Oreo! Why don’t you come to help your dad?” I ask him and shut off the sink after the glass is nearly full.

I pick him up with my free arm and carry them back into the bedroom. He immediately jumps out of my arms and goes onto the bed. Aizawa almost seems to grow a weak smile at the sight of the cat. I set the glass down back on the nightstand.

“Thanks.” He rasps, catching my surprise. I really wasn’t expecting him to thank me for it. He didn’t strike me as the type. He drinks some of it.

It’s quiet between us, and I want to do nothing but leave him be before the awkwardness gets worse. Plus, he needs all the rest he can get to heal faster. Or is the quirk he was struck with a time-based thing regardless?

Eri suddenly gets up from sitting on the floor and tugs me so she could whisper in my ear. “Talk to him!”

“I don’t think he…” I lock eyes with Aizawa who is surprisingly still not asleep and sigh. I have no idea what to talk to him about. What do you talk about to someone who has hardly ever said a word to you?

I then remember the explosive kid and nearly being hit. It’s worth a shot bringing him up I guess. “Had a close call with one of your students yesterday. Don’t know his name, but he nearly blew up my face if Midoriya wasn’t there.”

Despite his state, his eyes widen a sufficient amount.

“Toshi isn’t happy with him.” Eri pipes up with her arms crossed.

“No harm was done though, right? At least he didn’t hit me,” I shiver remembering his expression. “I’d rather not be in the line of his wrath again though. It’s terrifying to the point I almost feel bad for anything he goes against.”

“Bakugou.” He’s able to hiss it with annoyance. Okay, glad he doesn’t seem annoyed with me the same way he is with that kid.

Bakugou? Isn’t that one of the kids Midoriya told me causes the most problems in his class? “So he must be one of the kids you like to call “problem children”. Midoriya told me you call him that as well. Don’t know how he’s one, but I know if you call him that, you have a really good reason, so I’m not going to comment on it.”

“You seem rather… connected with Midoriya.” He says “connected” like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Oh yeah! He’s a good kid. He comes around frequently with Togata,” His eyes narrow and my fond mention of Togata. He better not be getting the wrong idea, I don’t see either of them that way for obvious reasons. “It’s so great they’re able to wear dresses so comfortably. Well, Midoriya is still a bit uncomfortable, but we’ve been working on his self-esteem with Togata. I also still have to thank him for saving me from the Bakugou kid. I don’t think that could be fixed with him though from the feral energy he gives off.”

“Still have to-” he coughs. “Work on that then. He won’t be able to get anywhere if he keeps nearly injuring innocents.”

I smile at him. “I wish you the most luck with him then. You’re definitely going to need it.”

He replies with a slight nod and closes his eyes. Oreo climbs onto Aizawa’s chest and starts purring. He brings one of his arms out of the covers and pets Oreo. The cat’s purring gets louder in appreciation.

Eri lights up. “I’ll go get Mochi and Sundae!” She bolts out of the room. No! Come ba- and she’s gone.

For one stupid reason or another, I feel like confiding with him right now.

“You know, I hate to admit it, but I’m rather envious of you,” He quirks an eye open to look at me. “You have such a lovely family and a significant other that greatly cares about you. I can only hope to have a relationship like you and Hizashi in the future. It’s going to be so strange when I leave your family.”

His other eye opens to fully look at me. His eyes flash some sort of emotion I can’t read. Maybe I overstepped a boundary or said too much about myself? Shit…

“Uh… Sorry about that, Aizawa. That’s probably something stupid to go off about or to bother you with...”

“Shouta.”

“Huh?” I question, just to be sure I was correct in hearing him.

“Shouta. It’s-” he coughs again. “illogical for me to be the only one not called by my first name,” He looks at Oreo, then back at me. “You’re a part of our family. Even Oreo likes you. Sometimes not even I can pick him up.”

“A part of?... No, you’re thinking too much into it. I’m just a sitter that likes taking care of Hitoshi and Eri.”

He slightly shakes his head. “Same thing with Hitoshi. He’s never let anyone but us call him his first name. You’re different.”

I’m having a hard time accepting I’m special in any way. They must just be slightly delusional or something from having multiple bad sitters before. “I’m sure if you got a sitter similar to me, he’d have done the same thing with them.”

“Doubtful. For one, you’re the first that’s not us to not fear Hitoshi for his-” he coughs yet again. “quirk.”

Maybe I should make him stop talking so he can rest before more damage can possibly be done to his throat.

“I found Mochi!” Eri yells from somewhere outside of the room. She enters the bedroom, waddling like she did before with Mochi in her arms. He’s nearly being dragged on the floor, but only seems uninterested in helping her move. She seems to be having a slightly easier time than before carrying him. Not sure if he’s lost some weight, or if she’s gotten stronger. Maybe even both.

I laugh and go over to her to help her carry him. He’s still rather heavy. Heavy enough to cause a rather large dip in the bed when we place him on it. We place him down by Shouta’s feet. He doesn’t even move. Just flops onto his belly where he’s placed. I go over back by Shouta’s side, since that’s closer to the exit of the bedroom. I still feel like I’m intruding in their bedroom.

She immediately takes off again out of the room.

“Eri! I don’t think-” I’m interrupted by Shouta gently grabbing my hand. His hand is rather rough- probably calloused- and rather clammy. Most likely from him being ill. Uh… This is weird.

“It’s fine. The cats are a good distraction,” He lets it go before I can try to pull away. “That’s another thing. Even Eri bonded with you rather quickly. I’ve never seen her so happy to see someone besides us or Midoriya and Togata.”

I shrug. “It’s the previous sitters’ faults for not caring for her. She’s beyond adorable, and I honestly had the thought if something were to happen to her, I’d kill everyone in the room, then myself on my first day.”

He exhales his breath, almost like a chuckle. “Zashi says the same about you.”

I have no idea what to say to that. Oh! He must mean Hizashi would do the same thing for Eri, his mind is just mixed up on his words from his illness. Sounds a lot more logical than someone admitting they really like an adult they just met back then.

Eri comes in with the last and final cat, Sundae. He seems a little more uninterested in being in here than the other two. At least until Eri places him on the bed, and he sees the other two. He jumps onto Shouta’s stomach and tries to push Oreo off to take his spot on Shouta’s chest.

I can’t help but laugh. “You need a little help there?”

He grows the tiniest smile again. “No.” He pulls out his other arm from under the blanket and uses it to pet the other cat as well. That seems to do the trick as he stops trying to push Oreo off.

He coughs yet again. I feel rather bad he has to deal with it. “Would you like some tea maybe? It’s not cough medicine, but it might help your cough a bit more than the water is.”

He turns his head back towards us. His eyes again showing that unreadable emotion. “That's another thing. You’re caring. You’ve respected us the most. You didn’t even try pushing me to tolerate your presence, just accepted it.” Okay, that’s enough talking from you, you need to rest more. I swear, if he’s the type that suddenly has the urge to clean the house when sick… I’d do absolutely nothing. I obviously can’t do much against a man with years of grueling training, even when he’s sick. Might have Eri help me scold him though.

“I’ll get the tea. And do us both a favor, stop talking for now. It’s honestly great hearing you talk more for once, but now is really not the best time.”

“No promises.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, other than checking up on him a few other times. With how frequently he talked, I started to wonder if he and Hizashi somehow swapped minds. He must be one of those odd people who seem to be more talkative when sick, as clearly found out.

Leaving their house, my body freezes at the familiar feeling of being watched. For a moment, I wonder about going back into their house and asking them to bring me to my home. No, I can’t do that to them. They've already had a long day.

… At least, that’s how I felt at first. But the farther I walked, the more I wished I did. Fuck, the feeling won’t. Leave. Taking out my phone, Hitoshi is the first one to come up in my contacts.

“Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you around here. Heading home, huh?” Asked a familiar voice behind me. That feeling was still around, but just knowing Tadao was with me helped. I turn to face him. His hair was… Glowing green? It made him look like a glowstick, and made me wonder how I’ve never seen his hair do this before. Never met him in the dark though.

He laughs at my expression. “Mold isn’t the only thing my body can absorb. It can also do the same with fungus. Found out years ago I can make my hair glow from the bioluminescent fungus. Cool, huh?”

I smile at him. “Definitely! But you know I now have to call you glowstick, right?”

He groans. “Man, was really hoping to escape that, but I guess it’s deserved, huh?”

“It really is your fault if you don’t naturally have it.”

Because of his glowing hair, it was easy to tell he rolls his eyes. “Anyway, wanna walk with me back to the apartments? Just got off of work myself today.”

“Well, it would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“Yep.”

We start walking.

“How’s Ryo holding up?”

He sighs. “Not well. Really starting to question their mental state. They told me this morning they don’t even want to talk to you for a few days.”

My face quickly becomes a frown. “Seriously? They’re going to act like this now?”

He shrugs. “Try not to let it get to you. We both know they can be overdramatic at times.”

I sigh. “I hate that you’re right.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Tag list-

@angelicblackwolf 

here ya go. hopefully it works!

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (8/12)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Okay, so that cliffhanger, huh? I thought our mystery guests were obvious, but then again, I'm writing the story. But We'll answer all those questions here!

AO3: Beginning | Current Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

-/-

Killian’s side of the bed is cold when Emma’s alarm goes off. She expects him to still be there either sleeping or on his phone – he seems to do most of his work in the mornings when he doesn’t want to get out of bed – but he’s not there.

She hates herself a little bit for even noticing the cool feel of the sheets beneath her fingertips.

Emma groans and stretches her legs out, wondering how much time she has to go back to sleep before she absolutely has to go into work. She squints at her phone. She’s got two hours before she has to be at work. She could definitely sleep for another hour and a half and then look like shit at work. That might be nice, actually.

But then she smells something cooking downstairs, and almost on cue, her stomach growls.

Slowly, she gets out of bed, and the floor is cold against her bare feet. She should really go take a shower before she goes downstairs, and despite the good smell, she goes into the bathroom and quickly showers, leaving her hair dry. It’s curly and a bit frizzy from leaving it wet after her shower at the Nolans’ last night, but that’s a problem for another time…tomorrow. She’ll make it look better tomorrow. Emma grabs a pair of shorts and a button-down, putting them both on, and she pulls out a pair of sandals from her closet for later. She’s not as presentable as she should be, but maybe she can stay in her office and away from customers.

Besides, this is better than what it could have been had she not at least rinsed off the remaining sunscreen and sweat from her skin.

Emma smooths down her shirt and fluffs her hair. There’s the slightest bit of red on her chest from Killian’s beard, so she buttons up one more button before heading downstairs. From the smell of it, Killian is either cooking pancakes or waffles, and she’ll take either.

As far as her seasonal friends with benefits go, Killian is definitely the winner.

For the breakfast, the sex, and maybe the conversation. She thought about that for too long yesterday, and it’s too damn early for her to be thinking about any of this today. All she wants is food and coffee, so that’s all she’s thinking about. It’s all she can.

“Damn, Jones,” Emma shouts from the top of the stairs, “something smells delicious.”

She’s at the bottom of the stairs when she hears other voices. For one brief second, she thinks Killian is on the phone, but she’d know those voices anywhere. One haunts her nightmares, the other is the voice of her dreams, and neither was supposed to be here for three weeks.

Three fucking weeks.

Shit.

Holy shit.

What the hell has Neal done that he has to show up like this without even giving her any kind of heads up?

And how does she fix this? Killian was never supposed to know about Henry. He was the one question she’d never answer. He would have been her veto had it ever come up. When he got home from spending the summer with his dad in New York City, Emma was going to start phasing Killian out. They’d only ever spend time at his place, she’d never spend the night unless Henry was sleeping over at his friends. Usually, she doesn’t have this problem because the guy leaves way before this. He doesn’t have the chance to ever know about Henry, and Emma likes it that way.

The last guy that met Henry was Walsh, and that was only on accident. Or at least that’s what Walsh said, but Emma’s always thought Walsh showed up at the Blue Dog at that time on purpose because he knew Henry would be there with Emma. The guy never understood why Emma didn’t let him meet her son, but when you’ve never been able to trust a man besides David and possibly Graham with him, you have reservations.

His dad’s a full-blown asshole who has upended her life more than once, and she’s already so done with whatever bullshit excuse he’s got for bringing Henry home early.

Emma jumps in place, trying to breathe without really inhaling, and then she turns the corner into the kitchen.

The sight is as bad as she expected. The first person she sees is Killian, and if it were any other morning, this would be a good view to wake up to. His joggers hang low on his hips, he’s standing by the stove shirtless, and his hair is sticking in several directions from where her hands tugged on it last night. Then she sees Neal, who is standing in the corner with his arms crossed, frown on his face. He looks older since she saw him at the beginning of June. His beard is filled with more gray, his hair unruly in a purposeful way. He looks pissed, and Emma already knows this is about to be hell.

And then she sees Henry, and the tenseness fades from her shoulders when she sees his smile and the giant backpack he’s wearing. He’s got to empty that damn thing out.

God, she’s missed him so much.

“Mom!” he squeals, running toward her.

Emma opens her arms and embraces him, holding onto the back of his head and breathing him in. As much as Emma sometimes likes the freedom her summer affords her, she does miss her son. A lot. Him being gone is the entire reason she picks up shifts at The Oaks. She needs the distraction, not so much the money, until the summer is over and Henry comes back home for school.

“Hey, kid,” Emma laughs as she keeps hugging him. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Can I have the waffles?”

“What?”

He pulls back and grins. “The waffles Killian made. Can I have them?”

“Killian,” Emma slowly repeats. She looks over Henry’s head toward Killian who is furiously scratching behind his ear, and she realizes just how much he has a deer in the headlights look going on. As confused as she is right now, she knows he’s just had a few bombs dropped on him. “Uh, yeah, why don’t you and my friend Killian eat. I’m going to talk to your dad in the backyard for a minute. Neal.”

“What? I don’t get a hi?” Neal asks.

“Backyard. Now.”

He smiles, and once upon a time, she would have found that charming. Right now, she wants to slap it right off his face. Whatever he has to say, she knows it won’t be good. Emma closes the back door behind them and moves far enough across the deck to keep Henry from hearing.

“What the hell, Neal?”

The smile falls, and Emma crosses her arms over her chest. She has to put up a barrier with him. “Why are you so angry? Are you not excited to see Henry? He has been gone all summer, you know.”

“Of course I’m excited to see my kid. But I wasn’t supposed to see him three weeks from now. And with a head’s up. We have a schedule, Neal. Like, a court-mandated schedule that you made us get, and you’re not sticking to it.”

“That I made us get?” he scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean? If I recall, you’re the one who kept my son from me for seven years and then didn’t want to give me custody.”

How is he such an ass? Seriously. How does he still not get it?

Emma steps closer and straightens her back. She doesn’t need to make herself taller, not for him, but she does anyway. “I got pregnant with Henry when I was sixteen. You were twenty-four. Do the math on how that’s wrong in about eighty-two different ways. And if I recall, and trust me I have a pretty good memory of this day, when I told you I had something important to tell you, you disappeared off the face of the planet. That doesn’t really seem like a guy who deserves to know about his kid.”

“Oh, come on, Ems. You can’t still be mad about that, can you?”

Is it still considered assault if Emma punches someone who deserves to be punched? There must be a law making that okay.

“Why are you here early, Neal?”

She doesn’t want to get into this with him. He’s never going to understand how much he fucked up Emma’s life. There’s no need for her to try to get him to understand now when all she wants is to know why he just showed up early.

“Who’s that guy in there?” he asks, evading her question.

“A friend.”

His mouth crinkles when he laughs, and she hates it. “A shirtless friend who fixes you breakfast? I hope you don’t make a habit of this when Henry’s home.”

“You don’t get a say on my dating life. Or my parenting skills. Now answer my question.”

He blows out air, and rolls his eyes, like she’s the one inconveniencing him. “Look, Tamara wants to go on vacation before summer ends, and she didn’t want to bring Henry with us. So I thought I’d bring him back to you and it wouldn’t be an issue. I’m sure you can keep him entertained until he goes back to school.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God, Neal, are you serious? You are breaking the rules of our custody agreement because you want to go on vacation with your girlfriend? How is it possible that you’re so selfish? I mean, God, seriously.”

Emma groans and buries her face in her hands before screaming. Or at least screaming as loud as she can without Henry knowing.

“Henry is a good fucking kid,” Emma continues, slowly breathing to calm herself down, “and he loves you. He doesn’t see all the shit I do because I’ve hidden that from him, but you can’t just do this, Neal. You can’t decide you’re done playing dad and give him back to me when you nearly made me go broke fighting to keep custody of the kid I’d raised since he was born. That’s not how being a parent works.”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who has used her time away from her kid to fuck British tourists and is upset her kid is back early because her vacation has to end.”

Emma looks up into the eyes of the man she once loved, the man who gave her son his eyes, and she says, “Go say goodbye to Henry and get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you next June, if you still decide to show up then.”

It’s a dismissal, and Neal never takes those. Not sitting down at least. She’s sure there will be arguments and petty jabs for the next few months. He’ll make her life hell while playing as the good guy. He has this act where he says things like “he’s a good person now, can’t she just move on from the past?”

There’s a difference between forgiveness and moving on that not a lot of people get. They say you have to forgive to move on, but that’s not true. You can move on without forgiveness because some people don’t deserve it. At all. Sometimes all you can do is stop letting them live in your head rent free, and you have to forgive yourself for ever falling for the lies.

Emma’s chosen that route. She’s forgiven herself, has moved on with her life even with Neal constantly trying to pull her back down, and she’s not about to stand here and let him criticize her personal life when he has no business in it.

Through the window, Emma watches Neal hug Henry goodbye. It takes less than a minute before he’s gone and Henry is back to eating his breakfast. Emma would laugh, she wants to at how ridiculous this all is, but she’s not finding anything about today funny. Because while Neal will go back to New York and will be happy, she’s stuck here cleaning up the mess he just made because she has to do everything in her power to make sure her kid never knows the version of his dad she knows.

A phone call would have been nice. At least then she could have gotten Killian out of the house. She still would have been pissed, but at the very least, she would have been able to make things a little better than they are now.

“Shit,” Emma breathes out, looking toward the sky. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Emma inhales and exhales several times before forcing a smile and walking inside where Henry is eating the breakfast that was meant for her and talking to Killian about soccer of all things.

Well, not of all things. Most of the time, Emma forgets that Killian plays professionally. Hell, they talked about it yesterday, and it still isn’t at the forefront of her mind. That part of his life has nothing to do with hers…except for right now when Killian is talking to her son about it.

He still doesn’t have on a damn shirt.

“Mom, did you know Killian used to play soccer? Like, as a job. That’s so cool! Do you think he could coach my team?”

“I did know that, kid.” Emma kisses his forehead, and he squirms away. It’ll take him a week or two to get used to her kind of affection versus Neal’s, so she’s not too offended. “How do you know that?”

“I recognize him.”

“Since when do you watch a lot of British soccer? Or football as Killian calls it.” She mimics Killian’s accent, but she also knows she did a terrible job with it.

Henry shrugs and stuffs a large bite of waffle in his mouth. “Dad doesn’t have anything to watch on TV but sports channels. All I did during the day was watch old soccer matches.”

“Wait. Where was your dad?”

Henry shrugs again. “I don’t know. At work I guess.”

Neal works from home most days of the week. What an ass. Emma bets he didn’t even get someone to watch Henry. He just used old sports reruns to keep him entertained.

“Hey, kid,” Emma says, finally looking to Killian, “can you stay in here and eat breakfast while I talk to Killian in the other room?”

“Sure.”

Emma flashes a tight smile and then nods her head toward the stairs. Killian gets the message and walks upstairs without being asked, immediately heading toward the bedroom. He stands by the window, arms crossed over his chest, and Emma watches his jaw tick, the smile he had on for Henry a moment ago, gone.

Softly, Emma closes the door behind her.

“I have my personal question of the day, Swan. You have a son?”

Okay, great, so this is how it’s going to be. Emma opens her dresser drawer and pulls out a shirt for Killian. He catches it after she tosses it and tugs it on. It doesn’t help as much as she’d like it to.

“Okay, look,” Emma begins, “you were never supposed to meet Henry. He wasn’t…his dad was supposed to have him for three more weeks.”

“The contract on my rental house has more time on it than that.”

Emma runs her hands through her hair and sighs. “I don’t know. I would have figured it out. Only go to your place, spend less time together. I mean, it’s only natural, right? Because you’re going to leave, and it would make sense for things to die down between us.”

Killian laughs, but Emma gets the sense he doesn’t find any of this funny. “Yeah, it makes perfect sense. This was only about sex, right?”

“Killian.”

“No, no.” He holds his hand up. “It’s fine, Swan. I get it. It’s my fault for thinking we might be mates on top of that.”

“I mean, we are – kind of, maybe. I don’t know.” Emma sighs and sits on the end of her bed. She doesn’t know what to do. Even more, she doesn’t know what to say. She definitely doesn’t know how to feel. “It was never supposed to be like this. I’m usually better at not blurring the lines. I don’t know what happened with us that made me drop my guard.”

“I knew you found me charming.”

Emma laughs and falls back on the mattress. “I have a kid, Killian, and he’s back. I can’t be like I was. We can’t just fuck whenever we want or stay out late or eat pizza at three in the morning. I’ve got to make sure Henry has a place to stay and Mary Margaret is across the country visiting her parents so that’s out for awhile. And I’m still working two jobs because I thought I had time to do that. I don’t, God, I don’t know what to do about anything in my life. Plus, you know, I want to spend time with Henry, and I don’t have a lot of free time.”

“I could watch him, love. He’s a bit older than what I’m used to with my nieces, but I’m sure I can find ways to entertain him.”

Emma sits up. Her heart is beating way too fast, and suddenly, the true reality of this situation hits her.

The man she’s been sleeping with has met her son.

And he’s offering to babysit.

What the actual hell?

She needs time to think. And scream. She definitely has to scream into her pillow for at least an hour because she literally cannot think of another thing to do. This is all too much, and she needs Killian to leave. He makes this all too complicated. She needs to go downstairs and eat breakfast with Henry. That she can do. That’s not complicated. That’s something she’s done every day for ten years, even if it’s usually Pop Tarts or a bowl of cereal, not homemade waffles and eggs.

“Can you, uh,” Emma starts, biting her lip, “can you go home? I need to spend time with Henry. He won’t show it, but I know he knows why his dad brought him home early. I’ve got some crap to deal with, but I’ll text you later.”

His eyes narrow, and Emma knows that look by now. He knows she’s lying, but she doesn’t expect him to call her out on her lie.

And he doesn’t because as quickly as his eyes narrow, they widen and a slight smile creeps onto his lips. “I’ll see you later, Swan. I’ll get my clothes out of the machine downstairs and go.”

“Thanks.”

Killian doesn’t move, and Emma has a hard time looking at him until she does. His eyes are so damn blue. It’s ridiculous.

But then he moves. Leaves, actually, just like she asked him to, and she hears every single step as he leaves the house and gets into his car. Emma breathes out a sigh of relief, maybe a little confusion, and then she grabs her phone of her bedside table.

Not a single warning text or call from Neal, just like she thought. Ass.

ES: SOS. My house. 10 minutes.

RL: Are you dead?

ES: Yes, I’m texting you from beyond.

RL: I am hungover. Give me 30.

Emma tosses her phone on her bed and heads downstairs. The life she was living is over. Henry’s home, and she is his mom. That’s what she has to do, and right now, that means putting her anger at Neal and confusion with Killian behind her to go eat breakfast with her kid.

She can only partially ignore that Killian was making this breakfast for her.

For them.

-/-

“King Harold,” Ruby says when she walks through the door in her pajamas and immediately sees Henry, “welcome back to your seaside palace. Come give me a hug.”

“Only if you never call me Harold again.”

“I can’t agree to that, Harold.”

Henry rolls his eyes, but he hugs Ruby anyway. “My name is Henry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby kisses the top of his head. “You smell like waffles.”

“Killian made waffles for breakfast.”

“Killian did?” she asks, looking over Henry’s head toward Emma. Emma shrugs and cocks her head.

“Kid, why don’t you go unpack? When you’re finished, we’ll go to the beach before I have work.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Emma hums and nods at the stairs. “I told them I’d be late today. Get your bags and go.”

Henry quickly grabs his suitcases. They’re nearly bigger than him, but he manages to drag them up the stairs. Emma waits until she hears his bedroom door close, and then she moves to the kitchen and collapses on a barstool. Ruby fixes herself a plate of leftover food and starts eating. “I have eight thousand questions.”

Without lifting her head from the counter, Emma tries to answer at least half those questions. “Killian slept over and was making breakfast when Neal and Henry walked in, so they both met him, which went over as well as you’d expect. Neal didn’t tell me he was bringing Henry back early, but apparently his girlfriend got tired of having him around and wanted to go on vacation. Neal thought ambushing me was the best way to go about the situation, and then he got pissed about me having a guy over.”

Emma peaks up to see Ruby blinking. Slowly. Did she not process anything or is she just so hungover that it’s taking her a long time to figure out what to say?

“Was Neal charming or something when you guys were together?’

Emma laughs. “I was sixteen, and he paid attention to me. He might as well have been Prince Charming.”

“He’s the worst.” Ruby scrunches up her nose. “And you’re not a Prince Charming type of girl. I get more of a rebel vibe from you.”

“Yeah, because mom and restaurant manager means rebel.”

Rub leans over and pokes Emma’s nose. “I don’t think you know how badass you are, Emma Swan. Give me a minute to get some coffee and make more food because I definitely need to dissect everything that’s going on with you. Baby daddy and new boyfriend not included.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, right. Just sex friend because you totally invite sex friends to parties at Marg’s place. That seems normal.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “I invited you here to help with a crisis. Not create a new one.”

“I’m just saying,” Ruby sighs, “Mr. Jones is a hell of a lot better than most of the guys you shack up with. Your unfortunate sperm donor included. I’d think about that if I were you. I mean, we both know you’re about to ghost him, but at least think about it, Emma.”

Yeah, maybe she will.

-/-

-/-

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