#the crazy thing is they asked me in the ER the other day if I'd recently hit my head and I said no

[icedteaandoldlace]

So...anyone here ever get a concussion before?

[trafalgarlogy]

THE KING'S WOMAN QIN SHI HUANG X FEM!READER

CHAPTER 2 !

WARNINGS FOR THE UPCOMING CHAPTERS!: GORE, MASS KILLING, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOUR, YANDERE-ISH, BETRAYAL, LOVE TRIANGLE

THIRD PERSON POV

In a heavy crowd, passed three noble men, people gave them respect by greeting them but deep down everyone curious about one man among them who looked oddly feminine and smaller in height compared to the others..

but it didn't change the fact that young ladies passing by could get off their eyes off this young man whose (h/c) flowed with the wind and his beautiful (e/c) eyes sparkled in confidence walking towards the direction of the restaurant.

later entering the restaurant, the three men sat down on an empty table placing their swords beside the cushions they sat on, as one of them spoke, who appeared to be an old man who was supposedly in his 80s, "What a tiring day...." he sighed, " Master, is there something troubling you ?" the young man asked who was sitting at the left of the table. "it's nothing you should worry about, Jing Er, I'd suggest you practice more" said the old man, "Grandfather, I think you are going way too hard on senior " said the (h/c)-ette, " You won't understand it (Name), he is the young man who I entrust on carrying my legacy" he said looking at (Name), who was lowered her head in disappointment, "Grandfather, why don't you let me do it? why do you never give me chance to fight by your side......." she said in a sad tone in her voice, "(Name)....you're the only descendant of our clan...if anything happens to you then who will carry our clan's pride?" the old man confronted his granddaughter while the waiter served their drinks, "(Name), please try to understand it for the best of you" as he placed his hands on her palm, "I understand it grandfather but I also have a dream father, I want to bring peace in this world with my strength and prove the society wrong-", "and show them that women can do great things, I support it (Name), you have a beautiful dream but your a young lady, who has weak body if you get deeply injured there is a high possibility you die..." he continued on grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring it in his cup, "Grandfather, I-" (Name) argued, "Enough, no further discussion should be made", he said raising his voice as he sipped the wine.

"yes, grandfather....." (Name) nodded lowering her head once again, both Jing Ke and (Name)'s grandfather drank in silence as the whispers from the table beside theirs came into their ears...

"Do you know recently there have been rumors spreading around the King of Qin..."

"Oh Really? what is it...."

"They say he is not the biological son of King Zhuangxiang....."

"Wha-What?!....are these people crazy?.... The King of Qin will cut their tongues, or maybe something worse"

"yeah, I agree...I have heard the King of Qin is a total monster...."

as the conversation went on, (G/f/n) sighed as he finished his fifth cup, placing down the cup; taking his sword he got up, "let's get going..." he commanded, Jing Ke and (Name) nodded and got up without saying a word, paying up the money in the counter, the waiter bowed "thank you for coming! please come again!", the three of them walked out of the restaurant.

SCENE SKIP !

as the sun shined brightly, the guards cheered up for their king who was targeting its prey, a deer, the commander of their troop, Li Zhong said " this species of deer is quite rare and the demand for its skin in the market has raised, Dianxia*, you are certainly lucky" praised the king, who let go the arrow from a distance. As the arrow hit the deer, it struggled a bit and then collapsed dead on the field; guards clapped and praised his highness. The king smirked a bit and walked toward the dead corpse of the deer, he kneeled down placing his hand on its body and caressing its fur, " Li Zhong," he commanded, "Dianxia" he replied placing his hands in front his sword in middle of his hands, "take this deer away" he said proudly

*Dianxia means your highness in Chinese. I couldn't find the word that they used to call and greet Ying Zheng in the drama so yup-

the happiness didn't seem to last long as the messenger came running and bowed down, "Greeting, Dianxia, Ying Zheng, my apologies but you can't take it away"

"The king does not like to be disturbed during hunting.", said Li Zhong looking down on the messenger, "What's the matter?.", "Dianxia, there's a rule here at the Xishan hunting site, which states that anyone who gets any prey here....", "must give it to Marquess Changxin"

hearing the words Ying Zheng paused when he was caressing the fur as the guards insulted and spat on the messenger,

"Absurd! ",

"Dianxia, himself caught this wild deer.."

"Is Marquess Changxin more powerful than our king?", Li Zhong argued, hearing those words Ying Zheng's smiling face took no second to change into a face displaying annoyance

"How dare a servant like you dare offend, Dianxia" Li Zhong continued on, "QUICKLY APOLOGIZE TO THE KING" he yelled in anger. " I didn't intend to offend our king, I only act according to the rules.." the messenger said lowering his head, "The rules are set by the Empress Dowager Zhao", silence spread among the guards upon hearing the name of Lady Zhao who was known as the Empress Dowager Zhao, for she was a highly respected woman in the kingdom alongside Grand Empress Dowager Huayang.

"His majesty may decide this.." he ended his sentence. Ying Zheng just smiled it off and later got up slowly, " I might like to hunt for fun, but capturing the prey is not my pleasure." said raising his head up and looking at the blue sky, " Since there's the rule, I'll give Marquess Changxin, this deer" he continued putting his arms behind,

"Li Zhong!", "Dianxia!", "Let's get back to the palace" Ying Zheng commanded.

TIME SKIP

walking through the long corridors, two guards escorted Ying Zheng and his step-brother, Cheng Jiao.

Finally reaching the room of his mother, Empress Dowager Zhao, he intsructed the guards to not announce his arrival. Ying Zheng held the handles of the door and slowly opened it without making any noise; Ying Zheng and Cheng Jiao walked in quietly inside the room as they see Empress Dowager and a strange man giggle as they lie on the throne.

The man played with her hair, this view indeed disgusted Ying Zheng as he lightly cough to get his mother's attention, who flinched alongside the man; he quickly got up and walked to the side of throne bowing down as the Empress Dowager made herself seated properly and fixing her clothes.

as there was only awkward silence in the room, Ying Zheng broke the silence, "Greeting, mother" as he lowered his head, "Greetings, Taihou*" Cheng Jiao greeted along with his older brother

*Taihou means Empress Dowager

"guards, why didn't you inform me that the king is here?." she growled, "I told them no to.", Ying Zheng raised his head, hearing the answer Madam Zhao sighed as she complained " ah, I'm having a slight headache.." placing her hand on her head, "So, I asked Lao Ai to give a massage.", "That's right, Dianxia" Lao Ai stepped forward.

Ying Zheng stared blankly at the man, as Madam Zhao spoke, "Is there anything, that you would like to tell me?.", turning his gaze towards his mother he replied "Mother, everything is ready for the coming-of-age ceremony.", "I'll go to Yong City in a few days, Cheng Jiao will go along as well" he continued. "Great.", "You've been waiting for this ceremony, I'm really happy for you" Madam Zhao smiled at her son, "You're late father will be very pleased...to see your younger brother supporting you in the ceremony", as Cheng Jiao smiled brightly hearing it.

"Seeing Marquess Changxin here...reminds me of something." Ying Zheng said glaring at Lao Ai aka Marquess Changxin, "this morning when I went hunting in Xishan. I caught a deer", Lao Ai raised his head a bit as Ying Zheng was talking," Only then I got to know, you take charge of everything in the palace, the horses and the hunting field." Lao Ai turned his head towards the Empress Dowager, making slight eye contact with her.

His mother smiled gently turning her head towards Ying Zheng, "Lao Ai, is a detailed person. Dianxia is always busy with state affairs. So, I assigned these tasks to him hoping I could share your troubles as well."

"Since Dianxia likes the deer, I'll order the servants to return it." Lao Ai said confidently. Ying Zheng just smiled a bit, "You don't have to. This deer is beautiful, and Mother rarely comes to the Palace.", "Since mother you're here, I'll give this deer to you as a gift" announced it proudly as she continued on to smile, "Thank You for the gracious gift, Dianxia" Lao Ai thanked him, getting off Ying Zheng's smile from his face.

"So mother, I shall now leave." Ying Zheng bowed as well as Cheng Jiao. Both of them exited the room silently leaving Lao Ai and Empress Dowager alone again.

when Ying Zheng got out he stormed into the hallways, as a vein popped up on his head.

"They acted so shamelessly!, I can't even find any other words to describe them!" Ying Zheng complained, "Brother! why should you be so angry with a mere official like him?" Cheng Jiao looked up at him, " Lao Ai is a crude man from the southern city. He is favored by Empress Dowager, your mother; that's why he is being so arrogant and discreet." he rolled his eyes. " People say Lao Ai is not a real eunuch. He accompanies mother and that they're in a relationship" Ying Zheng turned his head to his brother, "Do you believe it?"

"What if it is true?..." Cheng Jiao replied, "If the news Lao Ai being punished spreads out, the Empress Dowager's reputation will be highly damaged." he continued on. Both the brother stood silence

"Since when did mother care about her reputation...." Ying Zheng spoke in annoyance leaving Cheng Jiao speechless.

Cheng Jiao sighed and moved forward to Ying Zheng's ear, " Brother, now your goal is to go against the chancellor.", "Why should you worry about the harem?" He whispered. " That Chancellor and mother restrain each other. We'll need to start from the harem to get rid of those traitors." Ying Zheng said, as footsteps approached from a distance to reveal Li Zhong, Li Zhong bowed "Greetings, Dianxia", "Dianxia, I've managed the wild deer that was hunted at Xishan as per your orders."

Ying Zheng smirked in satisfaction, "Very well then"

TIME SKIP

In Empress Dowager Zhao's Chamber(The Next Morning)...

Both Madam Zhao and Lao Ai rested on the bed, sleeping peacefully and silently. As the sun ray hit Madam Zhao's face, opening her deep black eyes to get up, removing her slender hands from her lover's chest, she discovered her palm to be covered in blood

making a shiver run through her spine, and her body turned cold in fear.....she screamed in horror making Lao Ai who was sleeping as well wake up, discovering his vest having a huge blood stain making them both jump in panic, they looked around to find any other blood stains, and removing their bed sheets, their faces turned pale in horror as both screamed seeing a dead deer's head on their bed. Blood was everywhere around the sheets. Lao Ai quickly held its horns and threw the head on the dark wooden floor of the room, taking Madam Zhao into his arms both looked at it with their eyes reflecting fear.

SCENE SKIP!

In the dark night, the three of them rode their horses rushing somewhere, days passed by they rode continuously finally reaching their destination to find the person they have been looking for, Ge Nie the infamous warrior of Qin, who quit had to serve as Qin's warrior.

the reason for him to quit to serve Qin was, he didn't want to be under Lu Bu Wei's control, who was a corrupted chancellor who was always hungry for power.

rushing to the scene to see a little girl getting thrown aggressively as she cried for her mother, (Name) ran to catch the little girl; getting hold of her and helping her stand back, running to pull out her sword at the scene to attack the bad guys, she was stopped by her old man, as his eyes widen to see the flexible moves of a strange man fighting them taking them down one by one with ease, "G...Ge...Nie..." the old man stuttered, as the little girl ran to her mother crying into her arm, going inside their house. "So are you waiting for me to take your life?" the man said glaring coldly at the men lying wounded on the ground, who trembled in fear; for the sake of their lives, they quickly got up and ran away as fast they can. "Are you....Ge Nie, the warrior?" (Name) as out of curiosity, getting Ge Nie's attention, "I'm Wei (Name), and my grandfather Wei (G/f/n), is the commander of Puyang in Wey"," We had walked hundreds of miles just to come and meet you" (Name) said with a smile

as He turned around to be greeted by the three bowing down to him. "Sir. I've seen your letter at the residence of the Chancellor of Wey, and found out you'll be leaving Qin today." (G/f/n) said showing respect towards the other old man. "Hearing this, we rushed over here just to personally express our wish...for you to serve the six states." "You've flattered me." said Ge Nie who sighed in disappointment," I'm just a mediocre and unambitious old man", "I'm not competent to serve the Six States" he continued leaving nothing but awkward silence at the end of his sentence. "Sir, this is important for all of us in the Six States," said (Name) on her grandfather's behalf, "Qin wants to conquer all the states regardless of the nations; all of us know you're a citizen of Qin but even after that you don't share the same path as others...You're a martial warrior, you are known worldwide as the world's best sword warrior" "If you can resist Qin with us, you'll surely inspire others", said (Name)" ah, the nickname..' world's best sword warrior" is purely a rumor, Don't mention it".

"Mr. Wei. Since we have now met here: why not try to stop me from out of tow, I'll listen to you if you're successful.", "But...if you fail to do so, then please go back," Ge Nie said walking slowly towards (G/f/n) as the wind blew. (Name) and Jing Ke got aside when (G/f/n) commanded them to do so making enough space for a duel. the two men glared at each other coldly as the silence spread in their surroundings. Ge Nie surprisingly passed by the old man, making him annoyed. They both walked towards the exit standing quietly. until (G/f/n) took a chance to strike when Ge Nie wasn't looking but coming to his surprise Ge Nie blocked his first attack and shifted his sword aside. This kept going on till (G/f/n) couldn't take it anymore and pulled his sword out, and ran towards Ge Nie; Ge Nie took no second to take out his sword behind his cape. and running towards him, the two of them fought to destroy most of the abandoned stalls in the surroundings and tore the clothes of the villagers that were hanging, in a blink of an eye.

Ge Nie gave a final strike to (G/f/n) sending him flying back. (G/f/n) coughed a little as he wasn't too weak to even cough out blood in just a blow. (G/f/n) stood up with a face of disappointment. "You're indeed, the world's best sword warrior, I admit defeat." said (G/f/n) lowering his head, "I've never wanted to get involved in the state affairs, But. Since we met today, there's something I want to tell you.", " I saw the general and the troops went out of the city on my way here.", "this time. If Qin wants to conquer Wey, the king of Wey would offer Puyang as self-protection.", making (Name)'s eyes widen as she covered her mouth with her hands, (G/f/n) and Jing Ke looked at each other in shock," We shall meet again someday" said Ge Nie, turning his back and leaving the village.

all that he left was a piece of worrisome news, cause after all it was their hometown, Puyang, on the line, where they grew up and spent memories of childhood. How could they let Qin conquer their precious home?

To be continued.....

NOTES !: i. totally not the author just rewatching the entire first episode just for the goddamn dialogue ii. the fact I forgot to mention at the start, this story has love triangles over love triangles, is just fucked up. iii. this chapter is long cause mf the start had nothing, like NOTHING

[sanhatipal]

~~ Shards of Eden ~~

This is my little cove, and where I post art and dump other things occasionally. Come inside,have a look~

I haven't lasted 2 weeks on any other site since the fall of g+, except maybe twitter but that also drove me nuts and I always took long hiatuses, but have been here constantly since 2018. Which...says quite a bit. I'm a doctor by profession,but here on Tumblr for fandom (pretty obviously) and art

My fandoms:

Pandora Hearts

The case study of Vanitas

Fate series (mainly Fate/Stay Night)

The House in Fata Morgana

Shadows House

Rozen Maiden

Tegami Bachi / Letter Bee

Witch Hat Atelier

xxxholic

Witch's Heart/Majo no Shinzou

07 ghost

D gray man

Some others I'm into but not that crazy about: Touhou, Madoka Magica, Princess Tutu, Tsubasa Reservoir chronicle, Totsokuni no Shoujo (and more but my head is empty). I like seinen, josei and a very specific brand of shonen: aka things enough to mess up my brain. I don't enjoy romance, sexual things(says the Fate fan..HAH. but seriously,I don't.), or mecha unfortunately

I tend to draw Pandora Hearts, VnC and Fate fanart most

I collect figures,so you'll see them here,but since ,as you can see,most of my faves are a bit on the below the radar side,there hardly are any figures... you'll see custom figures here,and orginal character figures because I like those too.

I like a lot of things,but mostly whimsical, folksy aesthetics,forests and plants, and glowy flowers and things like wisp motifs (there's no limit actually).My favourite colours are,as you might have guessed, the multitude of shades of red, deep maroons and browns. I love fantasy,and folk tales and Celtic things in general have been my passion for a long,long time ,though I also love things inspired by Alice in Wonderland .

As far as music goes...I sang soprano at a choir for a larger part of my teenage,and choral music is very close to my heart. My favourite genres of music are Celtic, especially Irish traditional, new age, classical/neo classical, sea shanties,and whatever Yuki Kajiura and Mili have going on.

Now...art! When not doing fanart,I like drawing fantasy illustrations, and one day I'd like to illustrate books but that's a pipe dream. I'm self taught,and use mostly watercolour and ink. I also love sculpting. It started with trying to sculpt figures and while that's still what I do most,I sculpt other things too,and in general it has to be the favourite of my scores of hobbies . I also do bookbinding...and music box strips ...and doll customs...yeah there's no rhyme or reason to what I do and don't actually.

Sometimes I post photos of plants,I like taking photos and smelling wet mud

If you want to hop into my DMs to talk about fandoms or fanart,feel free! I would be very happy! Also I really love getting tagged and asked ,but often don't get around to responding because I'm a mess of procrastination...if that happens please don't mind, I really really appreciate it and it certainly made me happy,and I'll get to it as soon as I can.

If you've made it this far,thank you. It's been quite a long post,and thank you for reading,I appreciate it. Here are my other blogs:

@sanhatis-abyss absolute reblog hell,if you're looking for something I reblogged 2 days ago my condolences,you probably won't find it unless you scroll for hours. Sometimes I shitpost there , sometimes I scream about the latest thing that consumed me, that is ,if I don't accidentally do it here. Truly,an abyss.

@amaryllis-arachne my doll blog. I realise not everyone likes dolls,or photos of disembered plastic body parts,so I don't reblog those onto the abyss blog. Sometimes I put pictures of my own dolls there,and sometimes er...yes parts.

If you want my other links, they're all in the blog description. Except my Anilist, but it's really not worth anything,since I don't review or rate or anything,just use it to keep track. I do roughly-monthly uploads on YouTube of craft tutorials and drawings,but there's not much rhyme or reason to that either... anyways,hope you have a great day,and hope you find anything you like in this mess of a red coloured pit.

[andswarwrites]

Day 10

I've written about my mental health in bursts and starts over the years since I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but I’d like to start from the beginning and tell the story in its entirety, from the label "crazy" and how it affected me as a youth, to my roller coaster ride of highs and lows in my twenties, to my psychoses, my diagnosis, my therapy, and ultimately this period of stability I now cherish.  It's going to be a four-part-er I think, starting, as I said, with Part One: Stacey is Bipolar (a teenager with "mood swings")

Both of my parents are blonde and blue-eyed, so both of my siblings and I are blonde with blue eyes too.  Our family has heard a lot of blonde jokes.  Blonde is supposedly synonymous with airhead.  When someone would start telling blonde jokes, I would join in, because I wanted to show that I wasn't bothered by this brand of humor.  I learned at a young age that taking offense and getting upset is not as efficient as staying calm, and laughing at yourself along with people.

As a kid my playmate of choice was my best friend, but when we moved I only saw her from time to time, and my new neighbor was a little bit younger than me, and we didn't always get along.  Since I was homeschooled, and we lived in the country, I didn't experience playgrounds and bus rides the way my daughter did.  From hearing of her experiences, I don't feel I missed out on much.  I volunteered at my N-'s school library and I must say if I had attended primary school, I think I would have liked the library best.

I attended a little English school in Baie Comeau for Grades 7 and 8.  It had all grades, from Kindergarten to Grade 11.  At Recess, the littlest kids would traipse through the halls, and would bestow hugs on the High Schoolers.  I thought High School was rough, but honestly, that school was a kiddy pool compared to the schools I would attend in Grade 9.  I think my parents were wise to enroll me in that school.  My teachers told them I went around in a daze for the first three months.

I'd say my closest friend at that school was a girl who was one grade ahead of me.  Since certain grades didn't have enough students to fill a classroom (this was a tiny school), our classroom held two or even three grades.  My friend was thoughtful, quiet, calm, and I gravitated toward her.  She's the one who told me I had mood swings.  Apparently, this was normal teenager behavior. In Grade 9, I changed schools three times, and by the end of the year I was fed up and asked to be homeschooled again.

My mom didn't like it when people called me crazy.  I think they meant I was bubbly, hyper and impulsive.  And I could be.  I could also sit for hours with my nose stuck in a book.  When I was alone, I drew, I read, I wrote.  When I was in social groups I didn't know how to act.  I had a strange sense of never fitting in, and I didn't know why.  There must be something wrong with me, I decided, but I didn't want to let on that that was how I felt.  It was when I felt like I had no friends that I started long distance correspondence with two sisters.  We would send one another bricks of doodles, drawings and of course, eight to ten page letters.

One of the most profound things my psychiatrist told me while he was in the process of diagnosing me, was that bipolar disorder has nothing to do with personality.  Who I am as a person, who I always have been, is not tainted by my mental disorder.  All those times I identified as "crazy", as a defense mechanism because others used that label on me, it wasn't true.  At some point during my teenage years, I began to have "ups" and "downs".  I don't remember them, though, because my parents provided me with enough structure and support that I was able to remain relatively stable.

You see, bipolar disorder can make you manic or depressed.  You can either burst with energy and live on a "high", or you can crash and drag yourself around in a "low".  My highs weren't as apparent to my mom as my lows were, so she worried that I struggled with depression.  But then the low would pass, and she would be reassured.  I didn't clue in until my twenties that something was up, and even then I didn't seek professional help.  It wasn't because I didn't want to, it was because I didn't know how to go about consulting.

It's funny, I guess a mental disorder actually does classify me as "crazy", but I no longer use that label to identify myself.  When I was a teenager, I developed the habit of putting myself down as a defensive strategy, because I thought if I did it first, that would empty the arsenal of everyone else.  I was hyper focused on my flaws and failings, so I thought everyone else was too.  It took me a while to learn that no one is perfect, we all mess up, we all need to be forgiven, we all need to forgive.

If I can love others even when they're not perfect, why would I be the exception to that rule?  Why would I need to be perfect to be lovable?  Chasing perfection is unhealthy.  As a teen, I think my mental health was crushed under the weight of seeking to be perfect far more than it was affected by my bipolar disorder.  But my symptoms of bipolar disorder were going to worsen, until crisis point.  Like I said, my parents provided me with a lot of structure and support.  They kept me consistent, they helped me meet my goals.  But what would I do when I left home?  I'll tell that story tomorrow.

[flames-memory]

Saturday Night

Bc left me a note, poor thing was tired. I expected as much, I figured she'd be sleeping after, and I'd see her eventually.

Instead, I ran into Mark, and almost right after, Max. We hung out in Pocket D a bit, watching "Aliens LARPing Reddit" (thank you Max LOL)

Then we headed for Oasis, hoping for a quieter place to chat. It was nice, Andres and Connor were there, and MC showed up, which was nice for Mark, He mentioned he hadn't seen her in a while.

After, Still no BC Max got a text from Helga, she needed backup! So we went and helped her out some.

While we were there, I got a text from BC, her and Faye were at Afterhours, she was hoping we'd join them, and of COURSE I did!! Max and finished the mission, and made our excuses to Helga, and headed over.

When we got there, things were already well crazy, of course. We found Faye and BC, and after a white russian with Max, joined her and Faye to dance for a bit. Poor Max, haunted by his bartending days, he wouldn't join us, heh. I felt bad leaving him down there, so I got down.

We had some shots, and BC went for a smoke. Next thing I knew, Faye disappeared.

We waited for them for a while, but I got no answer to a text, so we moved away from the bar - we were so in the way, and it was noisy. We ended up dancing, getting a little too tipsy - on Max's part - and after a very disturbing comment relayed from Helga, I took him home.

BC never came back. She asked me to come, I thought. Maybe I misunderstood. She left with Faye.

I thought ,maybe she got a text from Eliza or something. I've spent this weekend trying to give her a little space, and also be there if she needs me, somehow. I didn't go after her. Faye did. Ugh.

I'm trying so hard to do this right. I like Faye, she's nice. but I love BC. I love her so much, I get anxious and overthink everything. She means so much to me, I don't want to screw up. I feel like she'll think I can't handle being in her life or something. Or lose interest, because she's so.... distracted and in-demand.

If I hadn't had Max on friday, I would have had to dance with her with all those other girls. THEY were competing, trying to outshine each other.

I hated it. They weren't being the worst about it. Others are much worse, but it made me think about it. Not because it was Bc, but because there's something just.. ick about it. The idea of having to outflirt someone makes my stomach hurt. To imagine trying to force someone to pay attention to you.. I literally want to be sick.

This is a cousin to my fear of getting up and dancing. That demanding someone to.. want you? I can't. If you don't want me.. good lord let me go. I don't want to be an object anymore, I need to be wanted, or I need to go away.

okayyyy um. Writing this stuff always makes me think more, which I guess is half the point.

BC came to the beach house later and we talked. I'm sure she's distracted by worry over her and Eliza, and my stupid hurt feelings didn't need to add to the stress, especially when it was a miscommunication. She didn't see my text, she was just gone with Faye so long, we didn't see her.

I sure hope Faye appreciates the time she gets. I don't feel bad about BC being with Faye, but I can't help but be envious that they get so much quality time. I'm always around when there's stuff to do, or BC is too tired, so One of us is always leaving or busy. Faye's so lucky.

BC fell asleep. I need to figure out what to do about the samples. She was concerned about me even considering it, but... it was realizing I needed to talk to Max about it, and that I maybe should have before now, and that tiny fear he might look disappointed... I just hate that. I do't care about any other part, the rest i't the problem. I do believe that Max would love me the same, after I told him. I think he'll approach same as me, since the main question has been taken out of... er.. me. Us having a kid... it's the first time I ever though... ew, but maybe, instead of ew, fuck no. Thing is, it's not the having of a kid in the general sense that freaks me out. The thought of a kid that's part max and part me.. I could see that in the very distant future, maybe. It's a nice thought. But.. not anytime soon, and it's a thought, one of many I might imagine for my distant future. It's the idea of carrying a baby inside me that freaks me out so freaking bad.

I don't think I could do it. Having it in me sounds like an utter nightmare. Giving birth? I mean, I don't have to fear the pain, but the whole thing is too much for me. I don't WANT to. Maybe there's some way we can get some of my samples, and maybe.. in the future, we'll tank one lol I could see that. IN THE FUTURE. Like.. years from now lol

My life has no room or place for babies right now, and poor Max was drunk, and trying to be romantic. I'll talk to him soon.

I caught up with him again after BC fell asleep, and we helped helga with the rest of the job from earlier.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 27: "False God"

"We were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work. Remember how I said I'd die for you?"

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

"So Sam almost caught you yesterday," Steve laughs, practically wheezing after Bucky reluctantly told him about the events that occurred yesterday morning. "He almost caught you twice."

You, Sam, and Bucky went on a short and to the point assignment, and things were as normal as could be on that mission. If Sam noticed anything off, he didn't say. You acted like your normal self, and Bucky did too.

Even when you got back, things were normal. Occasionally, Bucky would look over at you and stare a moment too long, you'd catch him staring and try to hide your blushing smile. After the mission, you three ordered a pizza for dinner and just sat at the table and talked like back when you weren't living on the Compound.

That is, until Bucky slipped up:

"Don't talk about me and my sleep habits," you say, swatting Sam's hand away from the slice of pizza on your plate.

"It's not sleeping habits, you talk in your sleep! It scared the hell out of me the first night," Sam teases.

"Yeah," Bucky snickers. "Maybe if it made sense, it wouldn't be that bad. But it's just weird non-sensical phrases and random-ass words."

Sam turns to Bucky with a slightly tilted head and looks at Bucky strangely. "How do you know that?"

"What?" Bucky says, his laughter dying as he realizes the slip up he just made.

"I mean, I know that because we used to live together. She used to sleep with the door open. But how do you know that?" Sam pointedly asks, his arms folding as he waits for Bucky's response.

"Er..."

"Probably from that night you and Steve were on that mission," you interject on Bucky's behalf. "Super soldier hearing and everything."

"Yeah, exactly! I just overheard," Bucky nods, trying his very best to convince Sam.

"Uh-uh," Sam lilts, his suspicious eyes flickering between you and Bucky.

-

And when Steve got back from his own assignment, Bucky needed to tell someone. He had to say something about what happened, and now he was deeply regretting it as he watched Steve wheeze and laugh at the precarious situation Bucky was in the thick of. "Why don't you just tell him? It's better that he hears it from you than catching you sneaking around like that."

“We're not sneaking around. We’re just friends,” Bucky insists, him and Steve walking over to the jet where you and Sam are waiting.

Steve got the mission from Tony in the middle of the day about a hostage situation in an abandoned HYDRA post, and now the four of you were all headed out.

It set Bucky's teeth on edge that you were coming with them after the Rumlow situation and HYDRA's obvious interest in you. But like most things, it wasn't up to you.

Despite Sam's badgering and insistence, SHIELD wanted you back on the field after almost a two month long suspension.

It was the real reason you went on that assignment yesterday.

Steve looks at him in disbelief. “Really?” 

“Yes. Just friends.”

“That have kissed a few times?”

“That have kissed a few times,” Bucky reluctantly concedes.

“And frequently sleep in the same bed?”

“And sometimes sleep in the same bed,” Bucky begrudgingly corrects, knowing you two had slept in the same bed every single night since he first caught you wandering the Compound in the middle of the night. 

“And are both madly in love with each other?”

“And are both madly- wait, what? I’m not in-" he pauses. It's a blatant lie and he knows that, so he redirects, "And I know that she’s not in love with me.”

“Almost gotcha there, didn’t I?” Steve quips.

“That doesn’t make it true, Steve.”

“That’s good then, because I heard that Banner wants to ask her out.”

“What?” Bucky shouts.

Steve smirks, enjoying Bucky's turmoil all too much. "You're making this too easy for me, Bucky."

“You think you’re so funny,” Bucky snarks.

“I think it’s funny how bad you’re fighting this. Just ask her out already, make the move.”

“Shut up, before she hears you,” he grimaces, walking up the ramp of the jet.

“What’s wrong, James?” you ask, noticing his particularly stern expression on his face.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just want to come back already.”

“What? It’s not a good day for Bucky to save hostages,” Sam teases.

“Stop messing with James,” you defend, to which Steve knowingly eyes Bucky as if you’re proving his point.

Bucky rolls his eyes and sticks his hand out and moves in in a circular motion for Steve to just explain the situation already. Steve chuckles, but nods. Steve's playful demeanor drops as he talks about the mission: former HYDRA prisoners, all left there in the post, just over two dozen of them.

"Why would they just leave them there?" you ask.

"They probably didn't have the resources to move them. HYDRA's getting weaker and weaker, they probably don't want to risk the few they have left," Steve cooly explains. 

You nod, still a little unsatisfied with the answer. The whole thing seems off to you. "I hate to be negative, but something doesn't feel right about this."

"Why?"

“I don’t know. Just a gut feeling, I guess.”

"Redwing picked up the heat signatures," Sam pipes in, looking up from his little screen. "It matches with our intel."

"Okay," you hesitantly nod.

“You’re probably just nervous,” Steve assures you. "Completely understandable."

“Don’t listen to him,” Bucky scoffs, turning away from Steve to face you. “Always go with your gut.”

"No, Steve's right," you exhale, trying to shake off the dread building in the pit of your stomach. It was just the nerves of your first mission back after two months of being suspended, you reconciled. "We have to get those people out."

“You sure?” Sam asks, looking genuinely concerned knowing you wouldn't have said anything unless you had serious doubts. “We can turn around, get some more people.”

“No,” you insist, thinking about those people being held captive. “If they’re being held there we need to get them out as quickly as possible.”

Bucky eyes you for a moment longer and you slightly nod at him, assuring him that you’re okay - that the momentary doubt has passed.

Sam walks you through the plan, he'll take the air, of course. You and Bucky will take the lead. Both of you taking a side of the building to enter while Steve goes down the center. Bucky immediately objects to Sam's plan.

“Alright then, I’ll take Steve inside with me,” you offer.

“My issue is not being the first inside, it’s you being the first inside.”

You playfully scoff. “James, I’ll be fine. I know what I'm doing."

"We don't know the area, we don't know the terrain. You could be walking into anything," he argues.

"Has anyone told you that you worry too much?” you quip.

“No, I can guarantee that no one has ever said that about me,” he deadpans.

“I’ll be fine, James. I promise.”

“You’d better be fine,” he grumbles.

Steve shakes his head, watching the two of you banter back and forth before interjecting, “I’ll take the western side of the building and you take the right. We’ll meet in the middle, sounds good?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you agree.

“Not a good plan,” Bucky mutters.

“Thanks, Bucky,” Sam scoffs.

-

When you landed, the four of you split up, each taking your designated area of the building. But as you walk the empty grounds, all completely vacant of any armory or any sign that until very recently people were occupying this area, you can't help but wonder, if they left so haphazardly as to leave their own prisoners and hostages there, why did the area look so vacant, so untouched. “Something doesn’t feel right about this.”

“Why? What do you see?”

“Nothing. I see nothing. It looks like there hasn't been someone here in forever.”

"It's abandoned. They probably took anything valuable with them."

"No," you shake your head. "You're telling me they left in such a hurry that they left their own prisoners, but they cleaned up after themselves?"

“Yeah-” Bucky’s voice is cut off by a large booming noise just a few yards in front of you. You're thrown back by the sheer force of the blow, but are able to keep most of the large metal fragments away from you. Your ears ring as things fall all around you, but otherwise you're unscathed. You pop back up seconds later, patting your body to make sure that your unharmed.

As you dust yourself off, you chuckle triumphantly, "I'm okay!"

As your hearing returns to normal, you hear Sam, Bucky, and Steve all shouting into the comms. Bucky's calling your name- your real name, not 'doll', frantically trying to figure out where you are and if you're okay. Steve and Sam, from what it sounds like, are dealing with their own battles. 

“I am going to drag you back onto this jet myself,” Bucky hisses. “Where are you?”

“It’s an ambush,” Steve shouts from his side of the building. “Everyone out!”

“Yeah, I think I got that,” you sarcastically remark, hearing shots ring out all around you.

"They're coming from every side of you guys," Sam announces as he checks the perimeter while dodging the open fire aimed at him. 

“Doll?” you hear Bucky call from behind you.

You turn around and see that his run to you is interrupted by several men surrounding him. As you’re turning to go help him you see the glint of a little metal box, a timer blinking on top of it. You take a few steps forward, and freeze: 00:57.

“Doll?” Bucky calls again, already jogging back over to you. “What’re you doing?”

"There's no fuse," you whisper, staring at the case. A shocked breath leaves him when he sees what you're looking at. You're not really experienced with any type of explosive, but if Bucky's reaction is any indication, this isn't good.

"What?" he asks, turning away from the literal ticking time bomb to look at you.

"There's no fuse! Which means I can't stop it from- well, you know."

"Shit," Bucky exhales.

You look to your right and see Steve, who's running to assist you and Bucky. Maintaining eye contact with Steve, you ask, "Sam, where are you?"

"I'll be above you in 15."

"Make it 10."

Your eyes flicker to Bucky, who sternly shakes his head. "Don't."

You ignore him, turning your eyes to Steve and nodding ever so slightly. Without missing a beat, you grab the heavy case and run at Steve, using his shield as a baseboard as he sends you above the building, hopefully high enough to where Sam can take the case from you. 

"She's not going to make it," Bucky worriedly mumbles, watching as you're catapulted into the air.

And he's right, you're not going to make it. So you throw the case upward, just high enough that Sam can grab it. As you fall, you see Sam snatch the case and fly off. You try to slow your fall, but you brace yourself for the inevitable impact on the rough terrain. One last ditch effort to slow your fall, you put all your effort into one last gust of air to slow your fall. And to your surprise, it works. You land softly on your feet, and laugh triumphantly, "And once again, I stick the landing!"

"That was like some crazy, high stakes trust exercise," you exhale in relief. "Told you that you didn't have to worry."

"Oh no, we're going to talk about this self-sacrificing bullshit you keep doing," Bucky says, storming furiously to where you made your landing. "What if there hadn't been a solution, huh? What if you just fell? Do you know what a fall like that does to a person?"

"But there always is a solution," you offer. "And I didn't just fall, I was pretty sure that I could cushion the blow."

"Pretty sure?" Bucky scoffs angrily. "Why is there not an ounce of self-preservation between you and Steve?"

"Hey, don't bring me into this," Steve remarks, running up to join the two of you once more.

"I'm serious, I'm surrounded by martyrs."

"Don't listen to him," Steve gently tells you.

"Don't listen to me?! You could've done anything! Literally anything else, but instead you do that!"

"Like what?" you defend. "There wasn't exactly time to think about a plan."

"I could've thrown the thing at Sam."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "You were going to throw a bomb at Sam?"

"Nobody's throwing any bombs at Sam. Are you crazy?" Sam shouts on the other end of the comms. "I'm fine by the way, I got out okay. I got the bomb far enough away. I got out without being blown up myself. Thanks for your concern."

"You're welcome," you offer.

"Maybe take it easy on her, Buck? She was doing what any of us would have done."

"No, I'm not going to go easy on her. She's a human being, a human being that is so incredibly reckless with her life and you all let her!"

"You've said it yourself, she's strong. She's stronger than you give her credit for."

"I give her plenty of credit, but I draw the line when she is so blatantly careless with her life."

You defensively gasp. "I'm not reckless or careless."

"Stepping up to an explosive isn't reckless? Having you throw her in the air isn't reckless?" Bucky shouts in disbelief.

"I was pretty sure I could make it," you defend.

"Maybe we focus on getting out of here before you two continue your lover's quarrel?" Steve interjects.

“That’s not funny, Steve,” Bucky snaps.

“I’m not laughing. We’re still surrounded, and still more incoming,” Steve warns, looking over Bucky’s shoulder.

It all happens so quickly that it's hard to keep track. The four of you try fighting through the people, fighting your way to the jet. But they just keep coming out of seemingly nowhere. And then you're surrounded. And you look to your right, then your left, and Bucky and Steve are no better off then you are. When Steve said ambush, he really meant an ambush. 

Your eyes flicker to all the men pointing their guns directly at you as they surround you and nervously chuckle, "You guys aren't really going to hit a girl, are you?"

It's easy enough to use your abilities to pull the guns out of their hands. "Please don't make me set you on fire," you caution, as the men surrounding you slowly close the distance around you. "It doesn't feel good. For me or for you."

You concave the ground underneath the men surrounding you, you hear cries of pain as their legs get crushed by the terrain, though some are agile enough to escape before any damage is done. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Your eyes flicker over to Bucky, who's still currently be shot at left and right. And though you're in your own precarious situation, you pull guns out from the men in front of him.

You turn back to the few men that surround you, and dodge the fist coming at you. When suddenly, a man from behind you pushes his forearm against your throat, gripping you in a tight headlock.

You stumble back to try and unbalance the man, but he's relentless. So albeit reluctantly, you set the man's clothing on fire. He releases you as he feels the flames lick at his skin. You watch him for a moment as you try to shake away the thought of trying to help him.

It was either you or him, you try to reconcile as the guilt starts eating at you.

You turn around to see another man in front of you, you gasp in shock just as Bucky slams the man in front of you by his chest right into the ground.

"Thanks," you exhale, focusing on the men still flanking each side of you. You see them start to close ranks, forming a tight circle around you and Bucky to overwhelm the two of you. 

"I'm still so pissed at you," Bucky grunts, the man still underneath Bucky's boot. 

The man beneath him takes advantage of Bucky's momentary distraction and sweeps his leg, knocking him down on the ground. You don’t really have a chance to pay attention to what’s happening with Bucky because you’re still surrounded. All unarmed, thanks to your gifts, but all still ready to fight hand-to-hand.

What none of you knew, the fatal flaw, was the shooter sitting on the rooftop.

You’ve almost taken care of the men surrounding you when you see in the corner of your eye: a little red dot appearing on Bucky’s forehead. He’s kneeling on the ground about a yard away from you, the man in front of him refusing to let him up. He doesn't even see the danger he's in yet.

You’re keeping men away from you, tearing guns out of bad guys hands, while still on the defensive, in every sense of the word your hands are completely full.

And your throat tightens rendering you completely speechless as you see it all in your head: the different timelines Strange showed you, seeing Bucky die right in front of you. Knowing what it can do to you. But also this timeline, seeing your caretaker shot in front of your very eyes.

It’s not even a conscious choice you make, no clear decision to move into the line of fire.

But you don’t hesitate taking the two steps to the side, putting yourself in front of Bucky.

And take the bullet meant for him.

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

[theanonymousloser]

socks

pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

requested: no

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

description: the reader's love for crazy socks becomes contagious and infects fred weasley

"I like your socks."

Those four words were how it all started.

Y/n L/n, a fifth year at Hogwarts, was notorious for wearing odd pairs of socks.

On that particular day, she decided to wear a pair with small pictures of surfing avocados all over them. They were the type of socks that aren't no-show socks, but aren't knee-high socks, they stop just above your ankles.

She slipped on her shoes and headed to breakfast. It was a Friday, so she had some classes, but not too many.

"Hey L/n." Fred Weasley walked over to her.

"Hey Weasley." She replied, confused as to why he was talking to her. Y/n was used to be pretty invisible, sure she had a few friends, but she didn't really have any close friends.

"I like your socks."

"Er, thanks?"

Fred nodded, walking away.

"That was weird." She muttered to herself.

And so it became sort of a tradition, whether he was yelling across the classroom, throwing a note at her, or just catching her in the hallway, Fred Weasley always found a way to complement Y/n's socks.

.....

"I like your socks." He said, grabbing her arm in the hallway.

"Thanks." She looked down at his. They had hearts all over them and said "I like Y/n L/n"

"I like yours too."

"Go out with me?"

"Only if we both wear our most outlandish socks." She smiled.

"I'd expect nothing less," Fred mirrored her smile.

"It's a date then," she said.

"So it is," he winked.

.....

Fred and Y/n continued to go out, and in their sixth year, Y/n was invited to the Burrow for Christmas.

Fred, however, wrote a letter to his mom in November in which he told her about their sock tradition.

Everyone was seated in the dining room, around the table, eating breakfast before they opened presents. Y/n was seated between Fred and Ginny, and couldn't stop laughing.

Arthur was telling a story about Y/n's father when he was at Hogwarts, who, unbeknownst to them, had been one of Arthur's closest friends. The two had lost touch when they left Hogwarts, but Y/n gave Arthur her address in hopes that they would write to each other and try to meet up again.

Once he had finished his story, Molly announced that it was time to open presents, and everyone rushed to the living room. Y/n, again, sat between Fred and Ginny.

First, Molly handed everyone packages that were roughly the same size, except for Y/n's which was about a third of the size.

"Youngest to oldest," Molly instructed, and Ginny opened her package. It was a sweater with the letter "G" on it. Ginny immediately put it on over her head.

(I don't know if harry and hermione joined them that year, so I'm going to say they didn't)

Ron opened his next. It was the same thing, except his had the letter "R".

Fred and George began opening theirs next, but Molly stopped them.

"I'm afraid, Y/n is younger than you two."

Fred made a face at Y/n, who, in return, stuck her tongue out at him.

Y/n opened the gift with a large smile across her face. When she saw the gift she let out a small laugh, thanking Mrs. Weasley. It was a pair of socks with her first initial on them. She slid off the socks she had been wearing (with Santa riding a unicorn on them), and put on the new ones.

.....

The next Christmas, the entire L/n family was invited to the Burrow. After everyone had opened their presents, it started snowing. Fred and Y/n grabbed their hats and went for a walk in the snow. They had just been talking, enjoying each other's company, when Y/n gasped.

"What?" Fred asked, a worried look on his face.

"Look," she pointed to a small box on the side of the street. Inside, there was a small kitten. She was black and had white around her paws, making it look like she was wearing socks.

Looking closer at the box, Y/n noticed the word "Free" written across every side.

"I think it's meant to be." Fred said, smiling at his girlfriend. Y/n picked the shivering kitten out of the box, holding her close to her chest.

"Her name is Socks." Y/n smiled.

"Of course it is," Fred said with a small laugh.

.....

After Y/n's graduation, she was invited to the Burrow to celebrate. She had become like a second daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Y/n, dear! Come in, come in!" Mrs. Weasley beckoned, answering the door.

"Fred and George should be here soon, I'm just finishing up a few things in the kitchen." She said, walking to the kitchen.

Y/n jumped as she heard Molly shriek. She ran to the kitchen.

"Fredrick Gideon Weasley, you do not apparate directly behind a person!"

"Sorry mum, I didn't know you would be there." He tried to defend himself. Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Now Fred, you can't truthfully look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't know I would be in the kitchen when we're hosting a party this afternoon." Mrs. Weasley said, Y/n raised her eyebrows at Fred, excited for his response.

"Well, you see... Yeah, I got nothing. Sorry!" Fred admitted, walking over to Y/n, grabbing her hand, and pulling her outside.

"Hi," she smiled up at him.

"Hi," he smiled down at her.

"I uh, I wanted to give my gift to you before anyone else was here, so close your eyes." He said, and she gave him a weird look.

"What?" He asked, laughing. She rolled her eyes before doing as he said.

"Alright, now hold out your hands." He said and she did. He laid something in her hands.

"Open," he said from behind her.

She looked down at what was in her hands. It was a pair of socks (obviously), clearly handmade, but not by Mrs. Weasley. Written on the socks were four words. She gasped, her eyes watering.

"Will you marry me?" Fred asked from behind her. She spun around, a huge smile on her face. Fred was knelt on one knee, holding a ring out to her.

"Yes yes yes yes yes!" She said, smiling as wide as she could, tears falling down her face.

Fred slipped the ring on her finger before standing up and kissing her. He then picked her up and spun her around.

"We're wearing wacky socks." Y/n said as soon as she was back on her feet.

"Obviously."

[tradingjack]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

hi jams omg thank you so much for the ask!! <3

Right now, i'd probably say the thing i created that i like the most that i've shared is also the longest thing i've ever written, my silly 120k word jayvik fic Vulnerability 😅 i started writing it while i was super depressed, like shortly after christmas, and after having not written in literal years, and through those characters and that universe i just... wrote out as much love and emotion as i could for 2 months straight

like, it was a time where i was living completely isolated, in shitty cold weather, all I had to do was work and survive, and I'd just graduated college alone. they mailed me my diploma. I celebrated by drinking a bottle of wine alone while it snowed outside. I didn't really have any friends. so... there wasn't much else for me to do, and i poured pretty much all my passion into those characters and their relationship, and i think it definitely came across :P the original title of that fic wasn't vulnerability, but i can't imagine it called anything else now just cause there's so much of me in it.

the process of writing and sharing that stuff was crazy, too, i'd literally work an ER night shift and write an entire chapter on fuckin google docs mobile, and then i'd get home from the shift in the morning and i'd read over it Once on my computer to make sure there wasn't anything egregiously wrong, copy it over to ao3, hit the publish button, and then fall asleep through the day until i had to work at night again 😭 like at least half of the chapters written are like that, which is completely nuts and i don't know how i did that.

sorry to talk about it so much oops :P it was a crazy time for me, and it was so wild to me that it received so much love. it still blows me away tbh.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Ik know this isn't a ask but this is the person who asked you about your opinion on tugs idk how or why you got so mad when I was just asking about tugs but I wasn't to bark orders at you or anything like that

I appreciate this communication. That helps me get a better sense of where you're coming from. I don't believe you were trying to be rude.

However, I know you sent four Tugs asks in two days. I am reasonably sure you are the same anon who also sent at least four other asks over the course of the past week (including the one about OCs and then the follow-up on ERS that I have answered). Plus it's quite possible you are behind three other anon asks.

(I could be mistaken about the additional 4-7 asks. The confusion is one of the risks you run when you send things anonymously. All 11 of these asks have a very similar style.)

Sending four asks in 48 hours is spamming the inbox. And I said (rather angrily, yes—I was feeling heated that day, in more ways than one) that they were "demands" because when you repeat your request four times with no explanation then it does rise to the level of a demand. Anyone would be offended. If you wanted to avoid giving offense or being annoyed, a little extra effort to communicate goes a long way — Sorry if you get this multiple times, I'm not sure this ask went through. Okay, cool. If you had said that, that would be different. I'd have known your motives were uncertainty rather than impatience.

But this miscommunication didn't happen in a vacuum, either. Sending 8 (possibly more) asks in a week is also spamming. It did not predispose me to give you the benefit of the doubt.

Final pro tip: Communication should have a give and take to it. In person this happens more naturally. Online, it takes a bit more effort (though the rules are easier to learn.)

When it comes to dropping asks (or just notes or comments! I know they're called "asks," but it's totally fine to use inboxes the way you did unless the blogger makes it clear otherwise!) the ask-er can frontload a lot of "their end" of the communication when they just have a profile that the ask-ee can click on. That gives me an idea of where you're coming from. Even so, ask-ers often give some context for their asks. Like, they'll say "Hi."

Or "X is my favorite, (s)he's so Y."

Or "I saw your post about X or "Your fic/art is really cool."

Or "lol i didn't realize there was a Thomas the Tank Engine fandom till tonight, this is crazy."

Then they go on to ask a question (if they have one. It's OK not to, really.)

It's not required, but it does help you to come across as friendly.

And it's probably an especially good idea to make this extra effort on anon. Sometimes anons who send more than one ask will literally say "Hey, I was the anon who asked about X." It's just part of building a relationship, even if you are anonymous.

And that sort of relationship can be helpful in establishing yourself as a friendly sort who has basic respect for the people they are talking to online.

*

(Also... just to reiterate... just plain don't send someone that many asks at once. Not unless they're actually answering them as fast as you're sending them.)

[harpyloon]

“ginny, i always want to sleep with you” // hinny

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley

W.C: 2.5k+

Summary: Harry Potter is always a blubbering mess when it comes to Ginerva Weasley.

Warnings: pure fluff! sprinkles of angsty angst, squint and you’ll find mentions of war/battle and death. everybody lives AU!

A/N: A fic written for the @harryandginuary Ginuary gift challenge. Happy Ginuary @/gins-potter​ 😍😍😍I hope you ENJOY!!!

Read on AO3

Harry didn't think this through.

After defeating the Dark Lord and winning a wizarding war, he assumed he'd never have to think about anything ever again—at least not for a while. But gazing at her small blinking dot for almost half a year on a rotten piece of parchment apparently made him delusional, because at the moment—months after the battle of Hogwarts—sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow, his longing stare almost bore a hole through Ginny Weasley's face.

His Ginny.

Wincing to himself, Harry prodded on the peas in his plate. His subconscious when it came to Ginny was his greatest enemy and his biggest embarrassment. If anyone even came close to guessing what kind of dreams he had when it came to her... well... He breathed away the flush threatening to creep up his neck.

"More peas, Harry dear?"

Mrs. Weasley peered at him from the head of the table, a frown on her freckled face, "You've hardly eaten anything. Don't think I've noticed how skinny you've been getting again. I'd be having a word with Alastor about your Auror training. Ever since he got back he's been more insufferable—"

Snatching the dish of treacle tart in front of him, Harry filled his plate with a slice.

"I'm up for dessert now actually, Mrs. Weasley, thanks."

This seemed to satisfy her well enough. "Well, I whipped that up just for you so eat up."

He felt a nudge on his knee as Ron leaned in to whisper once Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot, "Save me some, will you? She goes barmy when we touch your treacle tart."

Harry smiled and nodded. Meals at the Burrow he was used to but he knew he'd never get tired of. His Auror training held him back a ton of weekends in the past few months, and being home felt splendid. Of course, he was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Harry hoped Mr. & Mrs. Weasley knew how grateful he was.

Risking a glance across the table once again, Harry saw Ginny serving herself second helpings of mash. Her favorite, Harry thought. He remembered her hating Madame Pudifoodt's Tea Shop for its lack of savory spreads, the one time they attempted a visit during his sixth year. It ended up turning into a laugh as she snorted at all the snogging instead of actually drinking tea.

"So this is your kind of place, huh?" Ginny teased as she sifted through the menu.

Harry blushed, "Er—you don't like it? I kind of reckoned girls like this place..."

He chuckled nervously as she gave him a pointed look.

"Really, Potter?"

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he snatched the menu away from her, already standing.

"Three Broomsticks then?"

He knew he'd buy her all the Butterbeers in the world for the smile he earned.

A foot prodded Harry back to the present.

"What, Ron?" he grumbled.

Ron frowned at him. "What'd you mean 'what'"?

"You just—"

Someone coughed loudly across from them.

Both turning, they saw Ginny heaving over her mash, a fist in her mouth. Fred was rubbing her back soothingly beside her.

Harry blinked. It was her. She kicked him.

"Alright there, Gin?" Fred mused. "I told you to take it easy on the potatoes, you crazy woman."

"Do the Harpies know what kind of stomach they'll be feeding once they sign you in?" said George. "I bet you they'll break a sweat once they find out your appetite."

Ginny threw George a withering look after downing a glass of water. "Don't jinx it, you idiot."

"Have you heard back yet, Gin?" Ron asked over a mouth full of pudding.

"More like they haven't heard from Ginny," chuckled Hermione.

All the Weasley brothers gaped. Even Harry.

"What?" sputtered George, "You're making the Holyhead Harpies wait?"

The youngest Weasley scoffed. "I'm not making anyone wait. I was just standing by for the holidays before I give a reply."

"Well, it's the holidays now."

Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry's gut clenched. The mad part of his brain loved it when she did that.

"I am well aware," she said, "If you all are so eager, does anyone want to take my place then?"

Her brothers merely grumbled while Hermione laughed. It's been the talk of the town for a while now, after Ginny received a letter from the Harpies a few months after the beginning of her seventh year. The whole house went completely ballistic, even Hogwarts as well—or so Harry heard.

It took a month to bury the dead from battle and a whole summer to rebuild Hogwarts from the rubble; the Ministry was still in the process of rehabilitation, and the whole wizarding community was yet to heal, licking the wounds that Voldemort left behind. Ginny's Quidditch scouting was the first good news they'd received in a long time.

He didn't get back together with Ginny after the war, and there was no reunion like he'd always imagined in those long nights without her, in search for the Horcruxes. It wasn't as if they both avoided it, there just wasn't any time—time to talk, time alone, time for anything. Everyone had their hands full following the battle, and when things started to fall back into place, they've simply slipped through each other's fingers; Ginny whisked away by the Hogwarts Express, and Harry to the Ministry to begin his training as an Auror.

He considered moving on, especially on days when he'd think about her roaming the halls of Hogwarts, her fiery red hair blazing after her. She'd find someone, he thought bitterly. If she hasn't already.

But they'd written to each other, sparingly, although they did still. Short snippets of their day, what they ate for breakfast, the new set of professors at school, Mad-Eye's torturous lessons; Harry was the first person outside the castle to find out about her Harpies letter.

He caught her eye from across the table and she raised a brow at him as if to say What, Potter?

Chuckling under his breath, Harry shook his head and tapped the bowl of uneaten mash beside his plate. He saved it for her.

Ginny's gaze landed on it and her face lit up. If Harry didn't know any better, her hair seemed to glow even redder. His imagination loved to exaggerate his visuals when it came to her.

He felt a tiny poke on his toe as if to warn him not to react violently—she gave him a look and he pursed his lips, looking back down at his peas and moving them around once again. Then slowly, an ankle wrapped itself around one of his own and rested there.

Harry exhaled slowly, willing his pulse to calm.

He was not over Ginny Weasley at all. Not one bit.

 ----------✿----------

Creeping quietly down the steps, Harry tried his best to avoid the noisy floorboards (that he still didn't memorize to save his life). His two best friends didn't mention anything, but he knew they wanted some alone time. And he certainly didn't want to be around once the candles dimmed and Ron and Hermione started making eyes at each other.

He was almost at the first landing when the door to his left creaked open.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry. It’s me."

Ginny opened the door wider, gazing up at Harry, her face bemused. She was dressed for bed. "They kicked you out already?"

Laughing quietly, he said, “You know they’d never. I volunteered.”

She smiled knowingly. “Of course you did. Well, come on in then.”

Harry stared at her retreating form, clearly confused.

In? In where? In her room? Just the two of them?

Ginny disappeared inside but the door remained open.

Should he knock and ask her what she meant? Should he just go inside? It's not like he hasn't before.

Suddenly, the most recent memory of Ginny's room flashed through his consciousness—his 17th birthday.

"Something to remember me by."

Harry's ears grew hot. He refused to let that specific recollection surface when he wasn't alone, or in the confines of his own quarters. It made his brain go fuzzy.

"Harry?" he heard Ginny's faint voice from inside, then footsteps. She appeared by the door once again. When she saw his face, her brows furrowed. "What happened?"

Harry attempted to clear his throat without sounding like a retching toad. "Er—I'm—" he was sure his face was now as red as her hair, "I was going to take the couch actually," he managed weakly.

"The couch," Ginny said flatly.

He swallowed. "Y-yeah. Downstairs."

The silence was deafening and it stretched on for minutes. Or at least that's what it felt like in Harry's rowdy head. He needed to meditate. Merlin. He was losing it.

Finally, she said, "Okay. Goodnight then."

She gave him a strained smile then quietly shut the door before he could reply.

Harry stood there, mouth hanging open slightly.

Ginny Weasley just invited him inside her bedroom and he refused. He refused. Of all the things in the world that made him a blubbering idiot, it was his best friend's little sister. He always seemed to be dumbfounded whenever she was in the vicinity of his space.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs, no longer bothering to mask his footsteps. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

Harry sulked his way to the living room, his mood most definitely dismal. Girls were a nightmare. He had no idea how their brains ever worked and every time he felt like he finally had a grasp at a situation, he was suddenly ten steps back.

He waved his wand mindlessly over the Weasley's tweed couch and leaned by the fireplace as he watched it transform into a small sofa bed.

Would he wake anyone if he flooed Sirius at this hour? He knew his godfather would still be up at Grimmauld Place, and would doubtlessly jinx him between the eyes if he found out what Harry had just done.

"You're just like James," he heard Sirius' voice say in his head. He never seemed to let this fact go, even when he knew that Harry was well aware of how he was a spitting image of his father. Sirius especially loved to point this out when it came to matters about Ginny.

"Dad actually ended up with Mum didn't he, Sirius," Harry growled under his breath as he settled on his makeshift bed, patting his pillow down with more force than necessary. He was in the mood for a petty fight and he wished his godfather was around for one.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. Harry jostled into a sleeping position at once and took off his glasses, planting himself still in the awful case that Mrs. Weasley found him huddled on their living room couch. She wouldn't have the heart to wake him would she? He didn't want her causing a scene with Ron and Hermione. Harry tried as best as he could to look as wasted as possible, even attempting at a snore.

The footsteps came nearer, and he felt them stop by the door of the living room. He tried to even his breathing.

"Really?"

His eyes shot open.

Sitting up suddenly, he found Ginny standing by the doorway, her arms crossed. Only the dim moonlight illuminated the room, and Harry had to squint before he remembered he took off his glasses. His hands fumbled as he perched them back on, his eyes meeting Ginny's vexed gaze.

"Ginny," he said lamely.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What?"

Her hair glowed in the dark space, like a warm halo around her head.

"You heard me."

Harry's pulse seemed to be skyrocketing. "Seeing someone? I don— no. No. I'm not seeing anybody at all."

Ginny looked skeptical. "Right."

Almost tripping over his own slippers, Harry barely managed to scramble to his feet in front of the only girl who plagued his dreams. He wanted to embrace her. Could he do that? Was he allowed to, still?

"Ginerva," he was breathless. "You have no idea..." Harry tried to calm his racing heart. Just get the words out, idiot. "You have no idea how much I think about you."

Her eyes gave nothing away as she looked up at him, and only her crossed arms kept the space between them. Harry saw tendrils of her hair stir as he exhaled. He wanted to kiss her.

When she said nothing, he lifted his hand experimentally, waiting for her to flinch or back away. Not sensing rejection yet, Harry trailed his fingers through the wisps of hair by her ear. He could smell her. He held himself from inhaling too deeply.

"Different shampoo?" he murmured.

Ginny sniffed, "Mum tried a different witch brand."

"Hmmm. Jasmine was my favorite."

She rolled her eyes. "I know."

Harry threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing her scalp now, and Ginny leaned into his touch.

He smiled. "But I like this one too."

"We should just share shampoos."

"Good idea."

They were silent for a moment. Just listening to each other breathing while Harry combed his fingers through Ginny's soft hair. The ends were still damp, he noticed.

"I missed you," she said suddenly, quietly. Her eyes were roaming all over his face as if gauging his reaction.

"I missed you too."

"But you don't want to sleep with me."

Harry's cheeks turned pink in the dark as he breathed out a laughed. "Ginny, I always want to sleep with you."

"I meant sleep sleep, you perv!" she pinched his stomach.

Trying to stifle his chuckle so as not to wake the rest of the house, he drew her in, finally bracketing her in his arms. "Ah, well, I mean that too, I guess."

Ginny huffed but melted with his touch. "I will have you know that I've turned down suitors for you, Harry Potter. So if you won't stake your claim, then I'd better take one of them up on their offers."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "Will you, now?"

"Watch me. Apparently, I'm quite popular with the Hufflepuffs—"

He leaned in lightning-quick, aiming for her luscious mouth. She expected it because her eyes closed in instinct, waiting for him to seal the connection. But Harry hovered. He felt the feathered touch of her lips on his but he stayed there, eyes open—trailing over her closed lids, the bridge of her nose, and the aggressive spread of freckles over the expanse of her cheeks.

"May I kiss you?" he asked against her lips.

Ginny's eyes blinked open but she didn't pull away. "Since when have you started asking?"

Harry was glad they were so close that she wouldn't be able to see his neck flush. "Since I let you go once."

This time, she did pull away, but only a tiny fraction. Just enough for him to witness her wrinkle her nose. "So saving the world has made you a complete sap."

She was teasing.

He shrugged, but grinned sheepishly nonetheless, "For you, yeah. I always have been though, haven't I?"

Twirling her arms around his neck and brushing her fingers through his unruly hair, Ginny pressed herself against Harry fully, her face shining with emotion.

"Then snog the living daylights out of me, Harry Potter."

[wild-horses1]

I love how protective Alfie is of Hannah! 💕 I'd love to see more 💕

Hannah, only sometimes, brought Alfie's lunch in for him. He'd tell her when to stay away from the bakery, and when it was moderately safe again. She always, no matter what, had Ollie to walk her from her and Alfie's house to the bakery.

Alfie wanted her to be driven there, but Hannah refused. She liked the walk, and seeing the life that existed in Camden. The women scrubbing front steps, the gossip, the sheer everyday of it all.

So, that day was like any day when Alfie deemed it safe enough to let his lovely little wife bring him his lunch. Ollie had been armed to the teeth: one gun in his left inner coat pocket, another in his right. He had a small knife tucked into his left sock, and another in his right. Hannah also believed he had other men on guard that she did not know about, watching her as she walked. Alfie did not skimp when it came to Hannah's safety. She was his wife, the love of his life, his best friend. Losing her would be the end of him, and he knew it. And he was not frightened of much, but he was frightened of losing her.

Hannah was happy that day. She'd made Alfie cheese sandwiches on thick, homemade brown bread, and she'd wrapped up a couple of slices of homemade Victoria sponge cake for him, too. She was quite adept at baking, and Alfie reaped the rewards of her finely honed skill. She smiled at the thought of seeing him, her new, deeply adored husband. She was in love, and she loved a man who made her heart go out of sync every time she saw him, who she wanted to kiss, and touch, and be with all the time. Hannah smiled at the mere thought of him, at the mention of his name.

As she walked, now very close to the bakery, she must've been smiling, because the next thing she heard was 'That's her. She married Alfie Solomons. You know she wears lace now? Whore.'

Hannah stopped in her tracks. Lorna Blau had said it, and Hannah knew Lorna which made it worse. They weren't close, but they had gone to school together.

"Are you alright, Hannah?"Ollie asked. He'd not heard the comment himself, but he'd stopped when no longer heard Hannah's heeled boots on the paved road.

"I'm fine, Ollie. Could you wait here, and also hold Alfie's lunch for me, please?" Hannah smiled, passing the brown-paper wrapped lunch to him.

She stormed over to the little huddle of parasites, heeled boots clicking furiously.

Lorna saw Hannah approach, but smiled anyway. Her whispers had not been very quiet at all, but she did not know that. She could not have known that, because she didn't see Hannah's fury-fuelled punch coming.

Lorna's nose bled ferociously, and her friends rallied around her.

"I'm not a whore, Lorna. And I'm so sorry you're so miserable in your life that you feel the need to comment about mine."Hannah spat, before walking back to Ollie.

Ollie was open mouthed.

"Let's go to the bakery."Hannah beamed.

**

As usual, before Alfie ate his lunch, he had his wife on his lap. He'd always tell the lads to fuck off, because Hannah was here. She drove him crazy, in a good way.

"I punched a woman today." Hannah said, after a kiss that left light pink lipstick on Alfie's lips. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and frowned.

"It was Lorna Blau. You know 'er. She's a bitch. She called me a whore." Hannah explained.

It took a minute for Alfie to fully comprehend what had been said about his wife.

"Her fuckin' dipshit husband works for me."Alfie said, and she saw a deep rage set in his eyes.

"Alfie, I punched the woman. I think she's learnt 'er lesson. Don't fire 'er husband too. They'll be homeless in a month if you do." Hannah sighed, her thumb stroking his cheek.

"Good."said Alfie.

"Alfie, don't. I'm fine, darlin'. I punched Lorna and I feel better. And now all I want is to be with you." She said. Hannah didn't like Lorna but she didn't want to see her live on the street.

"Hm."Alfie murmured, as she kissed him again. In minutes, with the help of her kiss, he'd forgotten, or at least been placated, into dismissing the whole Lorna Blau situation.

"She's just jealous because I've got you at home and she's got her ugly fuckin' husband to warm her bed at night." Hannah laughed, and Alfie did too, before kissing her again. He could never quite get enough of her. The other women he'd been with, well, he'd had his fill of them before they'd left the room. But with his wife, his Hannah, he always needed her, her touch, her kiss, her smell. He was in love, and madly so, and he was adored back. And he'd fire a thousand men, beat a thousand men, kill a thousand men, just to keep her on his lap, close to him.

[its-toasted]

We hemorrhaging that hard-earned but we getting there man. We tell ourselves we’ll stop with July. Hmmm

Who knew big windows and a ceiling fan and a screendoor are everything. In some ways I’m that simple. Every morning feels like when I was eleven on the roof of grandpa’s beachhouse in Korea. Where have you been my whole life.

You’re thinking beachhousewowsickgood but I assure you it was a Shack in the cut. But it was also near this lil strip called Malipo beach and we'd go fishing and baby crab hunting under rocks. Then my brother went to the ER off a crazy centipede bite. I don't think you've seen Korean centipedes.

Other lovely memories of Korea: EMart was the OG Walmart. Church felt the same. Cool Shot was sugar-stuffed ice chips and possibly my first addiction and there is literally one single picture of this joint on the internet. Samchun’s apple orchard. Wondering why mom left all of these people. But I don’t need to ask that anymore.

I been at my new place for a week and I’m home. Like this is enough. Sunsoaking in a breeze on the balcony. Fan drifting like a lazy river, just enough to keep things crisp. I can't do stale air. And this only costs copper and sometimes a second layer.

I forgot to grab my cello. We might tune up again. That’s crazy, y’all don’t even understand. I was pretty dirty. She’s maybe the OG old flame. Nah that’s a lie. Sydney’s voice takes me any day. She was my first real muse. Our life in Gchat. She was a real dancer. And a better drummer. And a voice like a tender Emma Stone. First girl I'd fall asleep on the phone with. Ugh.

This is what happens when I try to write in order, like starting from the top. I'm a mess. I need aderrall. Anyways so I had classical music booted up from umma’s foot to my ass since I had glasses. Which is like since I remember anything at all. I dug the youth orchestra scene but the adults were all a bit stuffy. That's a euphemism for stiff. Imagine if I ever had a cool conductor. In another life I’d be teaching cello lessons. I didn’t get along with like half my conductors, I could be difficult. But we tried to play nice.

I had the greatest first cello teacher. I haven’t thought about her in many years. She was a twenty-something tumbler, all virginia slim and lipstick and designer sunglasses and a really big smile. Living the dream just outside DC. Lessons with Erica were like therapy. Or being in a big sister program with a master cellist. She caught me. She taught me how to play right, got these guilty hands first chair everywhere but state. She moved away before I hit high school for a better degree and a gig in NYC. I never got along with any cello teachers after her. Maybe I stopped wanting to learn when she left. I’m like that. Like I said I can be difficult.

I almost majored in music in school, and then I didn’t, and I set that bitch down in her case like sleeping beauty lol. Goodbye like shit for over five years. I was too busy finding a good pen (Zebra-301). I got her restrung the day after my birthday two summers ago, fooled around for two weeks, and tucked her away again.

So rocky is about right. But we'll give it another go. There’s love there somewhere, I know that. It’s just hard because I don’t associate it with good times, you know? But I love music. And the deep of a cello. Honestly I stopped playing around the time I bought my first good piece and started bumping r&b and maybe that was a mistake.

A friend said they wished I tried writing short stories. I think I'm averse to doing new things these days. Always finding reasons why not. I don't like that. I miss feeling like everything was for me. And I write like we’re getting back there but it’s always waves. This is the best I can do today but we're tryna keep things in mind.

Here's my joint I'm airbnb'ing the couch or you can BYOBed and currency can be chipotle or plant matter please DM me a photo of you in the summertime and your second favorite book

[sjweminem]

Do you have any like really weird kinks? I want to send more outlandish Mobius concepts but only the crazy stuff like lactation is fun to write and I want to make sure you're having fun with the stuff that gets sent.

If you don't really care, maybe I should ask if you have limits for these asks? Things you will not publish?

And do you prefer readerxMobius or prezLokixMobius?

i have no problem answering very personal questions or talking about dark/taboo/etc subjects. i simply don't make a habit of doing it of my own accord cuz that feels annoying and self-centered lol but i think if you're a person who's willing to share the Ugly, you ought to do it, since most people won't, and there are likely folks in similar positions to you who feel alone and "wrong" for their feelings. if i ever receive an ask that crosses a line, i won't get mad. I'll just say i'm not comfortable giving those details.

putting my actual answer under a cut- TW for CSA and violence (and just..generally preeeeetty disturbing shit??)

i actually had way weirder kinks as a very little kid, just cuz that's how i privately processed my m*lest*tion (about which i LEGIT don't give a shit to this day lol) at 3 or 4. for instance that's also when i began m*sturbating and it was always to thoughts/depictions of people being seriously injured. i did not know what m*sturbation even WAS till age like....12 or 13? but as young as i was, i somehow knew this was something to keep to myself ALONE. so in childhood i never let anybody see me j/o or admit to my very, VERY weird f*tishes. now i'm almost 30 so i don't remember what they all were, just that the pain and suffering of others, regardless of age, gender, or even species to an extent really did it for me (fortunately family was off-limits). medical settings and procedures were also a big turn-on for preschool and elementary school me, and a lot of my artwork from that time which we've kept reflects that (although i'm the only one who knows they were, to little kid me, er*tic in nature. cuz who the fuck would suspect that from a 4 year old lol.

while i had a crippling fear of being sick or injured myself, i loooooooved blood. In That Way. in middle school i began writing fanfics about, and making fanart of, my most beloved characters getting r*ped at very young ages. like, a lot of it. constantly. or i'd draw them severely injured/violently tortured by any means i thought up. again, this was something i instinctively knew needed to stay private and i had this bigass binder full of VERY disturbing artwork and writing hidden in my room.

anyways i could write books upon books on this chunk of my life 😭 nowadays, however, i am comparatively vanilla i guess? my fantasies are far less violent but i consider myself a very dominant person- i.e. i'd like to be the one doing the punishing/humiliating/etc. not that there aren't occasional exceptions, but for the most part i'm not interested in being the one on the business end of the whips and chains. honestly i think this has just carried over from my childhood when i had my fucked up fantasies, except now things like safety and consent matter to me. crossdressing is also Nice.

lactation doesn't do anything for me, and i used to have a major aversion to pregnancy, but now i can kinda..appreciate certain things about it....i just wouldn't consider it a wholeass kink cuz a lot of parameters need to be met for me to appreciate it in a sexual way. i don't care for traditional mpreg (i.e. cis men getting knocked up) but trans mpreg is fine. i mean, just look at how often pregnancy popped up in my trans pete AU! but it's less about the pregnancy and more about capitalizing on the hormonal shit it brings, like the person being especially horny, or their partner just like worshipping their body and other intimate shit.

and don't worry, i personally have no negative emotions about what happened to me in my preschool years, truly i don't care. more than anything i find it fascinating to pick apart the lingering effects and the ways in which it shaped me sexually.

OH, and to answer your LAST question......fuck that's a hard one!!!! but i think, if it's written well, i prefer prez loki/mobius but only by the tiiiiiiiiiniest margin!!!!

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Mamihlapinatapai Or The Season Of Longing

A/n: Here is another fic. Since it's been raining like crazy and I have spent way too much time indoors because of the weather, I decided to write this. The poem featured in this fic is called Lluvia by Jorge Luis Borges. I finally figured out how to put things under the cut so that my followers don't have to scroll through a large post 😅 It's another piece set before Doofus Rick and the reader were dating. Feel free to check out the other fics in my Masterpost.

In this fic the reader isn't the only one longing

___________

Imagine that instead of a blue sky, there was an off white, almost grey sky, and what should've been wispy white clouds were blankets of rumbling thunderstorms without a drop of rain; that was how you thought you might've felt. There was a name to this feeling, but you weren't sure what to call it; as though you were missing something you couldn't place; not sadness or grief, but whatever came in between. No, nothing bad had happened, and there hadn't been any disagreements between you and Rick, but something did occur which fed this alien feeling. It seemed that only a few days ago you were alright, but then you invited him over and he had a chance to look over those books you had mentioned. That day he had returned home from work and came over right after; offering his best of smiles and a piece of candy from his labcoat pocket as soon as he crossed the threshold of your doorway; it was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was charming all the same.

With swiftness, you had led him to your hallway closet so that you could bring down the box of books sitting on the upper shelf; that was where you kept a great portion of your father's old books. Father had been a fan of languages and botany, but ventured into the bizarre mystery from time to time; being a master of neither, you had hidden them away for a later date; mostly because the memories were more disheartening then they space they took up. With all your might, you stood on the tips of your toes in a vain attempt to reach, but your fingers barely brushed the edge of it; you should’ve just used the step ladder. It was Rick's small huff of effort which alerted you to his nearness as he unexpectedly stretched up and grabbed said box when you had a little trouble. Goodnaturedly, he carried it towards the kitchen while you took a moment to calm your girlish heart.

Coaxed away from your thoughts by the dusty cardboard and the delighted guest, you nodded lightly to give him the go-ahead to help himself. His gentle presence made him a joy to study; not in the way he examined things in the world or of the world, but in the way one does when fascinated by a butterfly or a fresh bloom hidden in an otherwise barren bush; he was a miracle. With care he pulled out one book after another, glancing through their pages and making piles for which one's he'd like to borrow. In a way he seemed to belong to this house; as though what wasn't found within pages of novels could be sought, and felt beyond reason; flowing calmly and relished in these favorable moments. Although it wasn't much, and that borrowing books could be of little consequence except to the reader itself, you hated to see him go.

Now thinking of it days later, you found yourself wondering about its significance as well as a plethora of other things as you walked to the store and back. You hadn't needed anything in particular, but you felt slightly better being outdoors; the fresh air allowed you to believe you could think better. The sounds of light traffic and grass being cut somewhere along in the neighborhood felt timeless as you walked around the corner, almost home. The wind blew, rustling your clothes and you narrowly lost the receipt that hung out of your pocket, but that didn’t bother you.

Rain clouds were rolling in from the west and you hoped it wouldn't rain before you reached home. And the closer you got, the more you could see the familiar house of your lovable neighbor. A smile couldn't help but stretch across your face at the thought and you hoped he was home so that you could ask if he'd had a chance to look those books over but that alien feeling bloomed again; the sinking, drowning, heavy feeling. How you wanted to be with him despite what reason thought was logical. The dance of your heart would've loved nothing more than to place a dozen or more kisses upon his smile lines while he stammered into the next week. Oh, your foolish heart had taken on a personification of its own these days; speaking and thinking of itself and it's wants like a second brain; draining you whenever it appeared.

Yet, before you knew it you had reached home and dropped off what you had bought before stepping out again. From your front yard, you could see that he was in the garage and you questioned whether you should go over and attempt to alleviate this feeling; it’d vanish whenever you were with him. You must’ve stood there thinking for a while as to what ought to be done for the pitter-patter of rain broke this trance-like state and you ran back towards your front porch. How silly you have become as of late with this strange crush of yours. Weren’t you past these sort of schoolgirl feelings? Perhaps, but it was more than that.

You sunk into your wicker bench and listened to the sound of the rain as it hit the roof and walkway. The earthy scent of the lawn and the splash of puddles as cars drove by was a welcomed distraction. A nap didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Yet, gentle footsteps and the sound of a closed umbrella woke another sort of feeling within you; that of hope.

“Golly, it - it sure is raining cats and dogs t-today.” he commented.

The words were out of your mouth as soon as you were aware of him; of this creature who walked out of a daydream. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you.”

“Huh? Are you alright? Did s-something happen?”

“I'm fine,” you answered; all at once conscious of him and your surroundings. “it’s just...I thought about coming over to ask if you checked out any of the books but it started to rain.”

“Th-that's part of the reason I'm here,” he confessed. “I-I had noticed you went out for a-a walk and wanted to make sure you had come home safely.”

“As you can see, I made it back in one piece. Although, I did get my hair wet. Though, that's the least of my problems.”

“Do you mind if I-I-I take a seat?”

Patting the space beside you, you nodded. “Not at all.”

He set his umbrella to the side before he seated himself and turned towards you. His warmth radiated from him and being as tall as he was, the bench might’ve been too low to the ground since his legs seemed to stick out too much, but he made no complaint. From his inner labcoat pocket, he pulled out a small book. “I thought y-y-you might enjoy this.”

“A book?”

Handing it to you, he commented. “I thought y-you might enjoy this collection of poems. I um - I bookmarked my favorites but I'd like t-t-to know what your thoughts about them would be.”

You knew this whimsical creature was well-read in many respects, but you hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of including works of a more abstract nature. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Though, I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you read works like this often? It's not because I find it strange. Honestly, I find it fascinating and wonderful that you would even consider it, but I ask because I thought….well, I thought you only read serious works related to your work.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained. “I read whenever I-I-I find the time and it uh - it usually doesn’t matter what the subject may be. In the pursuit of knowledge, one reads everything. For example, th-the terms and conditions for some computer programs or limited warranties at times list amusing reasons why y-you might be able to get a replacement for a damaged product. It keeps things interesting.”

“I see. It certainly makes sense.”

With a smile, he sighed with contentment as he looked towards the street. “Boy, th-this weather reminds me of a certain poem. It's called um - it's called Lluvia. That's the Spanish word for rain.”

“That's right,” you remembered; his last name should’ve been a reminder enough. “you can speak Spanish. I forget sometimes since you only talk to me in English. So, tell me, how does this poem go?”

“Please forgive me since my Spanish is a-a little rusty.”

Taking a deep breath, he recited calmly. “Bruscamente l-la tarde se ha aclarado, porque y-ya cae la lluvia minuciosa. Cae o cayó. La lluvia es una c-cosa qué sin duda sucede en el pasado. Quien la oye caer ha recobrado, el t-tiempo en que la suerte venturosa. Le r-r-reveló una flor llamada rosa y el curioso color del c-colorado. Esta lluvia que ciega los cristales, alegrará en p-p-perdidos arrabales. Las negras uvas de una parra en cierto. Patio que ya no existe. La mojada, t-tarde me trae la voz, la voz deseada, de mi padre que vuelve y que no ha muerto.”

You stared at this man, amazed by his fluency and ability to fascinate you with the simplest things. Yet again, a reason to be marveled by him. “Whoa, I don't know what you said, but it sounded beautiful when you said it.”

Turning towards you, his smile seemed brighter than usual albeit a bit sheepish. "It's n-nothing special."

"But it is, especially since you can think and speak in more than one language. I can't do that."

"I-I can teach you if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. You're busy enough as it is, but I appreciate the thought. You really are so incredibly smart."

"And you…eres maravillosa."

"What?”

His smile faltered a bit, and he thought to himself for a bit on what he was about to say before his smile returned; albeit more gently. “Eres amable y-y dulce. No soy digno de una amiga como tu.”

“Rick,” you started; confused as to why there seemed to be some sort of admission that you weren’t able to understand. “all the poetic talk is lovely, but I don't think it's fair if you reply in a way I can't understand."

"Si pudieras entenderme," he sighed, wringing his hands in the nervous way he did. "me pregunto qué creerías si te expresara cuánto me preocupo por ti."

Raising from the bench, he said to himself. "Si puedo llegar a la luna, algun dia podria...¿Q-que estoy haciendo?"

"Rick?"

“I’m o-okay. I uh - I zoned out there for a second. I’m sorry.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He studied you for a moment longer; a world of words unsaid in his melancholic glances. Was something secretly hurting him like it was hurting you? You could only wonder as thoughts were drowned out by the sound of the rain.

———————————-

It was warm and comfortable with him sitting beside you. His presence always provided a sense of calm that was softer and sweeter than that of the sedatives that eased your anxiety. Why you could fall asleep right here if it weren’t for that fact that you’d be mortified if you allowed it to happen.

“Are you a-a big fan of the rain?” he wondered.

This question had come after a half-hour of companionable silence. “Hmm, it’s not the rain so much as the memories that accompany it.”

“Do y-you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you don’t mind hearing it.”

“I-I don’t mind.” He reassured you.

“Well,” you started. “my dad enjoyed rainy days since he said the plants almost seemed to smile when rainwater hit their leaves.”

“Th-that’s a nice thought.“

“Yeah, I thought so too. When it rains like this, and I’m watching it fall,” you softened; feeling lighter because you had someone to share your thoughts with. “it feels like I’m looking through a curtain. It’s not completely see-through, but the shapes I can see appear softer and more mysterious like how you must’ve appeared when you showed up. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention.”

Oh, you did not just say that out loud. “Or something like that.” You added.

If he had noticed you had tripped over your words then he gave no indication of it. “Gosh, I-I never thought of it that way b-before. I usually see it as part of the pr-precipitation cycle and it smells nice, doesn't it?”

“It does. I wouldn’t mind bottling up this scent, but then it might lose what makes it special.”

Yet, if you could bottle up his scent, it would’ve been nice to keep nearby just in case you wanted a little piece of him.

“That um - that reminds me,” he brightened. “I had baked some mandarin scones before walking over tonight, and I-I-I thought you’d like t-t-t-t-to try them but I didn’t want to risk them getting wet. I-I thought we could share some over tea tomorrow if that’s alright with you.”

Tea time with Rick was like what others did over rounds of drinks; it was to unwind and talk about the day; minus the drunkenness and the unforeseen embarrassment. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“Gee, I um - I was supposed to, but there was a shift change. Actually, I have a shift t-t-tonight in a-about an hour, but I had wanted to make sure you were alright before I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I-I thought you were going t-to walk over.”

So he had thought the same thing. “Oh, well like I said earlier I had planned to or thought to, but the weather put a damper on things.”

“Yeah.”

“Though, isn’t it funny that we both had the same thought?”

He smiled at that. “It's because gr-great minds think alike.”

What right did he have to be this adorable you thought. All you could do was smile up at him and fight the urge to run your fingers through what appeared to be soft hair; as odd as you had initially thought his haircut was when you met him, you couldn’t imagine him any other way. Still, drawn to his bright, kind eyes, you wondered if you were being attracted by some invisible force to test the limits of this friendship, and yet you knew well enough that now wasn’t the time. Following a slow blink of his, you mentioned without looking away. “Now that we have gotten to see each other, it's probably time to let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”

“Y-you’re right.” he straightened; jumping up on his feet with much more agility then seemed possible for someone so mature. “Until next time.”

There he was leaving again when you didn’t want him to. Still, you had no right or claim to him. At least, not yet. “See you tomorrow.”

Grabbing his umbrella, he motioned to open it but paused, and slowly, but surely turned back; his smile almost boyish. “Gosh, I-I will see you tomorrow, right?”

Clutching the book of poems to your breast, you giggled. “Whichever way it may be, we will. I promise.”

Fin

[danganregretstestblog]

Now Playing: Ruins

> Move to: Door

I rushed over to the nearby door, ready to find some answers to all these questions I had. And like hell was I just gonna sit around and wait for the fucker who did this to me to come back and have their way with me. I shoved it open, and was about to dash down the hallway when I felt the door slam into something.

"Ow!"

Or well, someone.

> Talk to: ???

"Ngh..." A young man with blue-green hair and heterochromatic green eyes- one dark green, and the other a lime, almost neon green- dressed in a partially untucked white undershirt, blue tie, and teal overcoat sat up, rubbing his forehead. His black dress pants had streaks of dust, and I noticed some bad scuffs on his dark gray dress shoes.

"Goodness me, where am I...?" He muttered, looking around. The reasonable thing to do would have been to help him up and ask him his name.

But I was not thinking reasonably.

Now Playing: Living to the Fullest

I pinned the guy to the wall, holding one of my knives to his throat. "Hey! Are you the one who brought me here? Who the hell are you?!" I said, voice fraught with anger and paranoia. His eyes went wide as he froze, starting to shake.

"Wh-What are you talking about? I haven't done anything! A-And aren't those p-plastic knives...?" He stuttered.

"Yeah, and I'm the Ultimate Knife Thrower. You still wanna test me?" I snapped. He shook his head no.

"Good. Now answer my questions. Are you the one who brought me here?" The guy shook his head again, but I wasn't convinced.

"S-Sir, please, can't you be a bit more reasonable with this-" He tried to get a word in, but I didn't let him.

"Do you know how badly that taser hurt?! You'd better have a damn good reason for this, or I-"

"Wait, taser?" The guy looked surprised at that.

"Yeah, what about it." I scowled and pressed the point of my knife to his throat, just as a reminder.

"W-Wait wait wait, please don't hurt me! I was knocked out as well!" He yelped. "I was looking around the art history exhibits with my sisters when-"

"Do you actually expect me to believe that?" I growled. "We were both just coincidentally knocked out and brought here? Yeah right. You're the only other person here I've seen; how do I know you're not pretending to be a victim?" He scowled slightly, trying to show some degree of courage.

"Well, b-by the same logic, y-you c-could be doing the s-same! You're th-the one h-holding me at kn-knifepoint!" He stammered.

"That's-! Why would I be lying?! If I kidnapped you, I wouldn't even-" I stopped as I realized how hypocritical that was. I sighed and let the guy down.

Now Playing: Ruins

"This isn't getting us anywhere... Sorry for that." I muttered, slipping my knife into my empty holster. "Can you tell me what's going on, at least?" The guy breathed a sigh of relief and brushed off his pants.

"My apologies, but I don't know any more than you do." He said, rubbing his forehead again.

"Well, you were at the museum too, right? That means you're an Ultimate, since the place was rented out for the day." I notice him wilt slightly as I say that, his eyes glancing away for a moment.

"I-Indeed." It's a little strange how I haven't seen him around campus... But then again, I'm no social butterfly.

"Well, I'm Yashiro Fuyuki. Like I said earlier, I'm the Ultimate Knife Thrower. Can I get your name?" I asked.

"Of course." He cleared his throat and bowed. "My name is Kikuchiyo Himawari. I am of the ninety-fourth generation of the Himawari dynasty. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. FuYU-!" As he stepped forward to shake my hand, he tripped over his untied shoelaces. "Owww... M-My apologies. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fuyuki." He got back up again, wincing.

Kikuchiyo Himawari: Ultimate ???

Voice claim: Jun Kurosu, from Persona 2

(AN: Skip to 4:56 of the video provided, I can't find raw voice lines for him.)

"Himawari?" I've heard that name before. It's a crazy rich bloodline famous for always producing Ultimates of some kind, usually those involved in business or commerce. They were even among the first Ultimates ever, and have been ruling over the economy ever since.

"Indeed..." He leaned down to tie his shoes, whimpering something to himself.

"So what's your talent?" I asked. Kiku flinched, his expression becoming ashamed.

"I-I... That's... M-My apologies, I'd rather not say." He mumbled. I scowled.

"Why?" I said. "You know that only makes you more suspicious, right?"

"Y-Yes, but- W-Well, i-it's not important..." Kiku trailed off. "A-Anyway, I think we should-"

Now Playing: N/A

"Sorry, did you say we?" I said abruptly. Kiku's eyes widened slightly in shock.

"Y-Yes, is there a problem?" He asked shyly.

Now Playing: Wonderful Story

"Look- Kiku, right? I'm gonna be blunt: I still know jack shit about you. For all I know, you're some asshole fucked up in the head, and you're just waiting for a good opportunity to jump me. You made a good point earlier, but I still trust you about as far as I can throw you." I said. "Especially if you're hiding something like your talent."

"W-Well... That's..." Kiku shrunk away.

"Exactly. Call me stupid for wanting to go off on my own, but I'm not taking any chances." I said. In hindsight, that was kind of harsh, but I wasn't exactly in the mood for diplomacy.

"But isn't there s-safety in numbers?" Kiku suggested.

"Not when you're the only other person here I've seen. There's no bigger threat coming for us, so we don't have any reason to work together, especially when there's a chance you might attack me." I said.

Now Playing: Ruins

"Whatever, see you later. I'm going up ahead." I said.

"Er, f-farewell-?" Kiku started. I didn't wait for him to finish his sentence before sprinting down the hall.

(AN: Kikuchiyo's character art, by the lovely PM, is below!)

[inthememetime]

Halloween Prompts (let's get Spooky)

Use any of these you want! All I ask is that you tag me in them because I'd love to see what you create.

I'm shy and can't normally get up the courage to talk to you. But maybe in my mask I can?

"Isn't it a little early to decorate for Halloween?" "If stores can start pushing Christmas products in August, I can start getting spooky in September."

I don't really know you that well, but you're a buff as hell giant. You're completely fearless too. Until we go to the haunted house with a mutual friend, and now you won't stop hiding behind me or let go of my hand. Are- are you crying?

I just met you, and this is crazy! But I'm having an allergic reaction, take me to the ER maybe?

Let me get this straight. You want to take me on a long, moonlit walk on the beach on Halloween? Have you EVER seen a horror movie?

We both came alone to this Halloween party, but you're dressed as Boromir and I'm dressed as Gimli. That person over in the corner has a perfect Legolas costume, and I think I saw Aragorn and some Hobbits. This party completely sucks, you're clearly uncomfortable and Gimli just ran off to play with the dog. Want to go watch the sacred trilogy with some potential new friends? What do you MEAN do I have the extended editions? I'm not a HEATHEN.

I just saw someone put something in your drink at the party. I warned you about it before you could drink any, but the person who tried to drug you was your ride. I know you've only known me for 10 seconds, and I'm dressed as Freddy Kreuger, but I can give you a ride home.

We went to the old haunted house on the hill as a dare. But now I'm hearing things, you're seeing things, and neither of us can get the doors or windows open. What do you mean your fully charged phone is dead too??

We're playing werewolf*, but now someone's dead. I think the game just got real.

I just broke your nose because I thought you were the asshole who dumped my friend on their birthday. Turns out you're just both dressed as the same character. I can explain!

*werewolf is a really fun game to play in a group. 1 person (or more, as long as you have a 2:1 ratio) is designated as the werewolf and hunts down and 'kills' someone every night. The only person who is safe is the moderator who announces who was killed. The others try to figure out who the werewolf is, and vote on it every day. Among Us is based on it, if that helps. My friends and I used to play it in the dark with flashlights. Let me know if you'd like a full explanation.