#this is a table full of people who need to learn Everything about the stuff they like

[goatsandgangsters]

my dad is visiting rn, and he's become an italiboo to reconnect with his heritage

and he's asking @meyerlansky with the Master's Degree In Organized Crime questions about turn-of-the-century immigration experiences and nodding very attentively while they infodump in this restaurant

[santaasi]

raison d'être

pairing: james potter x shy!reader

summary: james potter never thought that the most terrible day of his life could give him a new reason for existing

warnings: muggle au, fluff, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i’m alive!! but i feel like with all my uni and graduating stuff i just lost inspiration. but i promise that very soon there will be more fics! love u all. have a good time readings my new work <з

JAMES POTTER HAS NEVER BEEN A LOSER. On the contrary, his life has always been like an endless lottery win. Ideal and loving parents, who provided him with everything he needed and supported him at every step. Friends who were always there for him even in the worst. A perfect career in sports that was only going uphill every day and promised to take James to new heights. James Potter was a golden boy who always seemed to be surrounded by a halo of luck. In all his twenties, he didn't know what failure and lose were. Troubles avoided him and it was something familiar to him. That's why when everything went wrong on one of the most important days of his life, James was taken aback.

It was one of hundreds of other summer days when the weather in London was pleasing with its sunshine and warmth. And that was the day James Potter overslept for the first time in his life. And it would be fine if he was late for training or a regular meeting about plans for the week, but… James Potter overslept and was late for a meeting with their future sponsors, who would decide the fate of the team and its entry into a more perspective professional league.

But apparently this was not enough for fate (if it ever existed). The fate decided to mock James more by taking all his luck and replacing it with failure. Because as soon as he left the house and got into the car, it didn't start, although last night, when he returned from another get-together with Sirius and Remus at the bar, everything with his car was fine. He had to ride in a completely packed bus, breathing in sweat fumes and feeling someone's elbow dig into his lower ribs. By the time he got to the bus stop, the air in his lungs was starting to run out. And besides all that, James had to walk the long way to the sport base to protect his ass and buy coffee for everyone at the meeting, to pretend that this was what he had planned from the very beginning. It was Sirius's plan, which, to James' great surprise, sounded really good for the first time in what seemed like forever. But instead of going to the usual café on another street, James ran into a new coffee shop, which was right next to the sports base, which decently helped to shorten his time.

A bell rang over James's head as he entered a softly lit, bright space with a couple of tables and guests who were sitting here, working and drinking pleasantly smelling coffee. For a very recently opened place, the coffee shop probably really had a lot of popularity in the area. James covered the distance from the door to the cash desk in a couple of steps and opened a dialogue with Sirius, quickly rattling his order to the barista, whom he did not even deign to look up at.

"’m sorry, could you repeat the order more slowly? This is my first day and..." you whispered softly, biting your lip uncertainly, and James looked up. His gaze is full of anger, which made you swallow a lump in your throat.

You've never been good with people. Large crowds scared you, and even with your close friends you preferred to message rather than call. But when life shook you up and the deadlines for paying for college were already burning, you had to get over your fear and be interviewed at a new coffee shop near your house, where an employee was urgently needed. A week ago, you were over the moon when you were accepted. The job didn't seem difficult and learning the basics of barista work was even interesting, and most importantly, the customers were all friendly. And you even have a hope that working with people won't be so bad. But as soon as you were faced with James Potter's eyes full of irritation, all hope for something good immediately disappeared, replaced by fear and nervousness.

"Or... or I can call another more... experienced specialist..." you began softly, stumbling through the words.

When James Potter entered the café, he was really annoyed because of the plans that didn't go the way he wanted. But as soon as his gaze meet your frightened doe eyes, his face immediately softened and all the emotions that he had experienced before faded into nothing but pure adoration.

You were beautiful. No. You were lovely. You looked like a small frightened deer that has met a hunter in the forest. Innocent. Sweet. Elegant. James Potter didn't know that there were perfect people in this world, but looking at you, he was convinced of it. His world seemed to stop for a second, concentrating only on you and on awkward lowering of your stunning eyes and how you bit your lip and how your thin fingers was nervously fidgeting with the bottom of your apron.

You cleared your throat and said something. James didn't hear it. He was consumed by you. He wanted to get to know you. Beautiful pictures were already playing in James's head, like movie stills of how he would ask you for your phone number and how you would smile and hand him a crumpled tissue, which he would, of course, keep all day as the apple of his eye. He has already imagined your date. How he takes you to one of those silent film festivals that were taking place in London right now. How you will chat for days on end without thinking about anything. How at the end of the evening he will take you home and slightly bending down, the distance between you will be reduced, and then…

As soon as you turned around to leave, James immediately fell out of his fantasies, quickly trying not to let you leave. He reached across the counter and grabbed your wrist, forcing you to pay attention to him again. But as soon as he realized how uncultivated he was by violating your boundaries, he immediately took his hand away, stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans, guiltily lowering his eyes to the floor. It was not typical for James Potter to blush, but he could feel the heat rising up his neck, scorching his cheeks.

"Um... sorry... I-I can repeat the order," James said nervously, and you noticing his change of mood and awkwardness relaxed a little, listening attentively to his order once again.

You quickly handed him the check and asked him to wait next to the pick-up counter, smiling sweetly, which made James's heart skip a beat. He nodded wordlessly and swallowed, still feeling the tingling in his hand where your fingers touched his skin.

Waiting for his order, James couldn't take his eyes off you. Everything in him screamed that he should come up and ask you out or ask for your number, as he had done hundreds of times.… But he couldn't... something was stopping him. And so when his name came off your lips (he didn't think that his own name uttered by someone could make him almost faint) and you handed him a bag with his order, all he could do was whisper a quiet "thank you" and leave the coffee shop without even turning around.

He spent the rest of the day as if in a dream. James was sitting in a meeting trying to concentrate on the important things, but all he could think about was your smile, which made his heart skip a beat. At practice, James was also distracted, as if hearing your sonorous but soft voice everywhere, the memory of which made his body goosebumps.

James Potter spent the whole day in a daze until a bell rang above him and the door closed behind him with a thud. The cafe was empty, the chairs were raised on the tables and the one who completely confused his thoughts stood with her back to him, quietly humming some remotely familiar song playing on the radio. You slowly swayed your hips, moving backwards, mopping the white tile floor until your back hit James's hard chest. You suddenly screamed loudly and turned around, covering your mouth with hand in shock. James ran a nervous hand through his hair and frowned slightly.

"Sorry, I thought you were still working, I came in... to buy something to drink," James quickly rattled on one exhale, meeting your gaze.

You blinked quickly a couple of times, trying to move away from the shock that you experienced from an unexpected meeting with a visitor. In him, you immediately recognized the guy James, whom you first dubbed the last jerk that came to ruin your first working morning, and then you noticed how cute and sweet he was when a blu sh appeared on his cheeks and immediately melted away.

"No, no, we are still working... there were just no visitors and I decided to start cleaning early… But you can order... it's okay," you assured him, giving James a soft smile before turning around and standing behind the counter, putting the mop aside.

James looked at the menu carefully, and then at you. There was silence in the coffee shop for a couple of seconds, and you felt your cheeks start to burn from the piercing gaze of his coffee eyes. You slowly lowered your gaze, trying to hide a silly smile.

"What do you recommend?" clearing his throat, James asked without taking his eyes off you. He wanted to stay in your company as long as possible and get to know you better. At least for a little bit. "What's your favorite drink?"

"Hmm... I'm not a big fan of coffee," you thought, looking over your shoulder at the menu. "That's why I would recommend herbal tea with raspberries and mint..." you nodded, concentrating on the guy standing in front of you again and smiling. "Well, it's also my first day and I'm not sure I can make you a good coffee... so tea would be the safest option," you joked, biting the inside of your cheek.

James laughed hoarsely, throwing his head back and you shyly lowered your head, hiding the blush that became even brighter on your cheeks. James was the epitome of what the perfect man looked like in your fantasies. Slightly curly hair, warm brown eyes that when he smiled seemed to be able to warm the whole world and round glasses that brightened his face and gave him even more charm. Such a handsome guy must have had an equally beautiful girlfriend. You thought, but quickly pushed these thoughts away from you. He was just a client, you shouldn't have worried about these issues.

"Then I'll have tea... yeah... I'll have tea with raspberries and mint," James said, calming down a little, adjusting the rim of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, which had slipped off.

You nodded and turned away, brewing James your favorite tea, making yourself one cup along the way. He was lost in thought again, watching you do your job carefully and with concentration. Your finger was slowly sprinkled with herbs, mixing them with mint leaves and dried raspberries, along the way he noticed how you brought the herbs to your nose, inhaling their fragrance and gently smiled to yourself. You looked more relaxed and peaceful than you did this morning when James scared you with his impetuous words.

"Herbal tea with raspberries and mint for James," you announced the order as if there was someone beside the two of you, and James smiled brightly at you.

His hand lingered on yours for a couple of seconds longer than necessary, and you felt your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. There was not enough air in your lungs, and it was only when James took the cup of tea from your hands that you were able to take a ragged breath that did not pass James by. The guy grinned, sipping a drink from his mug.

"Wow, this is really good! I like it," James said enthusiastically, looking right at you. His brown eyes seemed to look straight into your soul, and you swallowed nervously again, licking your lips, feeling how for a second his gaze dropped just below your eyes.

"Thank you..." James tilted his head slightly to the side, looking at you expectantly.

You said your full name softly, and James seemed to echo it, tasting it. You were quickly caught again, feeling your fluffy eyelashes tickle your cheeks. James shook and lowered his head, trying to hide his spreading grin. Apparently, he was not the only one in this cafe who was fascinated by his interlocutor.

"Well, thank you for the delicious tea. See you tomorrow, love," he winked at you before leaving the cafe.

The endearing name came out of James's mouth so easily that for a second you were taken aback, standing rooted to the spot behind the cash desk with your mouth open, like a fish jumping onto dry land. But at the last moment, a quick goodbye escaped your lips, more like the creak of a door, and the ringing of a bell announced James's departure.

Through the big window, you watched him walk slowly along the street lit by lanterns, smiling like a madman and slowly sipping his tea, and something jumped in your chest.

You put your hand to your chest, feeling your heart beating hard against your rib cage, and then wrapped both hands around your cheeks, which pleasantly cooled your heated skin. And the only thing you could think about, standing in an empty coffee shop, looking at the door through which James came out, was that the barista's job might not have been so bad. At least as long as James appears in front of you, it definitely won't be bad.

And in order to see him again tomorrow, maybe you'll switch shifts with Marlene.

But only 'maybe'.

thankx for reading <3

for the first time in month, I had so much fun writing these one shot. so I hope you enjoyed it too. you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[wosola]

French kisses .2 - Lucy Bronze x French!Reader

Summary: This is during Lucy Bronze’s time playing for Lyon, she's just gotten into a relationship with R, a 22-year-old student. For R it is the first time sleeping with someone.

Warnings: This is an 18+ fanfic with explicit content, so minors DNI.

Part 1 here.

It was only a few days ago, but Sunday felt like a lifetime away as you recalled how your parents had adored Lucy. You remembered how Lucy had picked you up that Sunday, looking stunning in an outfit you hadn't seen before. She had arrived a full ten minutes early, a small smile on her face as she told you that punctuality was key.

You re envisioned the way your mom’s eyes sparkled when Lucy walked in with a bouquet of flowers, the perfect way to win her over; your mom loved flowers. "Pour toi," Lucy had exclaimed with a warm smile, her accent adorably imperfect as she stumbled over a few words in French.

Your dad had been equally impressed when Lucy handed him a bottle of expensive whiskey, having confirmed with you just the day before if it was an appropriate gift to give him. “I heard this is your favorite,” she’d said, her voice unexpectedly confident as she raised the bottle.

You adored the way she’d won your parents over. You where glad your parents where this welcoming, that they just wanted to see you happy, because you knew it was often not as pleasant for people to bring a same-sex partner home.

It was clear Lucy had learned everything she wanted to say in French, she’d probably rehearsed every potential compliment and conversational quip, ready for the moment she needed it. It worked though and in some strange way it made you fall more in love with her.

You felt a swell of pride watching her engage with your parents, laughing and sharing stories that bridged the gap between her world and yours. It was so nice to finally been able to bring someone home. Maybe it would be the only person you would ever bring home to your parents, because she was the love of your life.

Safe to say it had been a great success and the next dinner had already been planned before the two of you had left.

-

Now it was Thursday; the day you’d been waiting for. It was the day.

Your apartment was cozy, located near the university and just the right size for you and your roommate. It was great you could live there, as your parents lived outside the city, in such a rural place that buses didn't even dare to go near there.

The living room was a mix of mismatched furniture; a well-loved couch, a small coffee table cluttered with textbooks and half-finished mugs of coffee and a tiny kitchen that smelled faintly of whatever you’d cooked that week.

Earlier this morning, your roommate had teased you mercilessly about Lucy. “You’re glowing! I swear, it’s like you’ve got stars in your eyes,” she had said with a playful smirk, knowing you hated that kind of soppy stuff. But beneath the teasing, you sensed her genuine happiness for you, knowing you had found someone you really really liked and who liked you equally as much.

As you came back after classes that day, your roommate had left, spending the night at her boyfriend’s place. Leaving the space feeling oddly quiet yet filled with the thrill of anticipation.

So you had thrown yourself into preparation mode. You changed the bed sheets. You scrubbed the countertops and vacuumed the floors, wanting everything to feel just right.

Then came the shower, you put yourself through an extensive cleansing ritual, lingering for way too long under the jets, letting the hot water cascade down your back like a soothing embrace. Because besides wanting to feel clean, you where also nervous quite nervous.

Deciding what to wear was another challenge in itself. You tried on three different outfits, each time pulling everything off again and tossing it aside in frustration. Finally, you settled on a simple yet elegant outfit that hugged your figure perfectly, something that made you feel confident and beautiful.

As you stood in front of the mirror, taking one last look at yourself, you couldn’t shake the excitement mixed with a touch of anxiety. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was just Lucy. The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts and you knew the evening was about to begin.

Lucy showed up at your apartment with two bags in hand, insisting that you must not peek inside. “It’s a surprise amour,” she had declared, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that only made your heart race faster.

After exchanging a kiss, Lucy walked over to the kitchen and you stood there unsure of what to do. You watched as she moved things from one bag to another, a hint of excitement bubbling in your chest.

Finally, she spoke up, her voice cheerful. “Alright, love, if you want to unpack these things, it’s for dinner. I’ll just duck into your room for a bit and try to be quick, okay?”

She approached you again, planting another kiss on your lips and you smiled back at her, feeling warmth spread through you at her demeanor. “Don’t come peeking…” she joked, pulling you in for another kiss.

You broke the kiss and chuckled, “I wont,” waving her off as she disappeared down the hallway.

As you busied yourself in the kitchen, the anticipation of the night filled the air. You draped a dark red tablecloth over the coffee table, setting down all the different food Lucy had brought. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you uncovered the dishes. It was almost like a tapas table, but then all of your favorite things from different traiteurs. The logo from your favorite fromagerie was unmistakable on one of the little brown bags and your heart raced; you rarely treated yourself to these luxuries. Lucy had gone out of her way to buy all of it.

After placing down glasses and cutlery you only needed plates, so you walked back to the kitchen.

Lucy softly closed the bedroom door, as she was done setting things up and walked over to you. Coming up behind you, she placed a soft kiss on your neck.

You tensed momentarily but quickly relaxed into her touch. Your nerves were on high alert because of your nervousness. But you liked how she held you, her touch sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Ah, at the coffee table?” she asked, a surprised tone in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admitted sheepishly. “I thought it would feel.. less formal. We can change it if you want, but I thought… cozy?”

“It’s perfect,” Lucy assured you, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. “Perfectly us.”

You turned to face her, taking in the beauty of her features; her bright eyes, the gentle curve of her lips and the way her smile seemed to light up your kitchen. This was the face you had grown to love, the face you wanted to see first thing in the morning and the last thing before drifting off to sleep. You leaned in slowly, noticing how she tilted her head to meet you halfway, not taking the lead as she would usually do. The kiss was soft, filled with the promise you both felt lingering.

“Are you nervous?” Lucy asked quietly, pulling back slightly to gauge your expression.

“Uhm… I have nerves, but I’m mostly excited, I think,” you replied, your gaze dropping to where you absentmindedly played with her fingers, tracing their robust form.

“Well, I just wanted to say,” Lucy began, reaching up with her free hand to tilt your chin, ensuring you met her gaze. “If you want to stop at any time, you can always say so. I… uh, nothing will change between us if that happens, okay? For you, I would wait a hundred years if that’s what you need.”

You chuckled softly, your heart swelling at her words. Leaning in, you kissed her again, savoring the taste of her lips. “I love you.”

‘’I love you too,’’ with a smile on her face, Lucy gestured toward the food on the coffee table. “Okay, let’s eat then, I have searched all of your favorites, maybe I missed some I don’t know, I hope not but I-.”

You interrupted her, smiling ‘’are you nervous?’’ You asked her, hearing her rambling.

She scratched her neck, biting her lip. ‘’I want this to be perfect, for you.’’

‘’It is Lucy, don’t worry,’’ you took her hand as you took two plates in your other hand and pulled her to the couch.

After setting the plates down you settled down on the couch.

Lucy followed, settling beside you, she leaned forward to open the bottle of rosé crémant. You’d once mentioned liking it better than champagne and it made you smile that she’d remembered. You knew she hadn’t chosen it because it was less expensive but because it was what you preferred. It was something you loved about her, Lucy wasn’t just listening; she cared.

After filling your glasses, she handed one to you and raised hers to clink. You watched her, catching the slight hesitation as she searched for the right words to toast.

You chuckled and stepped in to help, saying what felt like the obvious toast “to us.” Your gaze locked with hers, and you tapped your glass to hers.

"To us," she repeated softly, her eyes meeting yours with a smile before she took a sip.

After that, the two of you eagerly started digging in to the food.

Lucy stacked her plate and sat back on the couch “Mmm, this is amazing.´´ she said with her mouth full. ´´I love all the food you’ve introduced me to in France.”

You laughed. “I could give you a dried-out baguette and you’d still enjoy it.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, nudging you with her elbow. “Not true. I have taste. Great taste, even.”

“I know, I was just teasing you.” You leaned in close, a playful glint in your eye. “Sorry,�� you whispered, stopping just inches from her face.

She smiled, tilting her head even closer. “Hmm… I think you’ll have to make it up to me.”

You let your lips brush against hers, the anticipation crackling in the air. “And how exactly should I do that?” you said, taking the plate off of her and blindly put it back on the coffee table.  

“Maybe a kiss.” Her words were soft, lingering just against your lips before she captured them fully, her mouth warm and inviting. The kiss deepened, her hand slipping around your waist, drawing you in against her. You let go, sinking into the kiss, savoring the way her fingers grazed the small of your back. Shivering as her hands cupped your ass, fingers digging in, urging you even closer.

Without breaking away, you shifted onto her lap, you gasped softly as her hands found their way to your hips, holding you as she carefully flipped you both, positioning you between her and the couch. Your legs wrapped instinctively around her and you could feel her weight balanced on her forearms bracketing against you, her feet slipping on the smooth floor as she struggled to hold herself steady.

But none of that seemed to matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of her pressed against you, how her hips moving against yours, the barely restrained hunger in her touch. Her lips traced along your jaw, pressing against your neck in a way that sent chills across your skin. Each soft grind sent ripples of electricity through you, your breaths becoming shallow as you felt yourself getting unsteady.

Your fingers curled into her shirt as her lips moved softly along your neck, the sound of her low hum sending a rush of heat through you. Then, just as suddenly, Lucy seemed to become aware of something, pulling back to look at you, her gaze hazy and unfocused, like she’d just come back down to earth.

You smiled, biting your lip, your legs tightening around her, holding her close.

She gave you a breathless smile, leaning in to kiss you again, this time softer, a little more composed. "Uhm, we should continue eating, hm?" she murmured, her voice laced with both amusement and hesitation.

"Well.. I’m not that hungry anymore," you replied, eyes locked with hers. Your heart tutted loudly in your chest. Your cheeks felt burning hot and you ached for something. You didn´t know what for, but you where wanting.

Lucy´s cheeks tinged pink, but she managed to keep her gaze steady. "Okay," she breathed, though there was a flicker of unsteadiness there.

Noticing it, you chuckled, slowly loosening your legs from around her. "But we can eat, " you teased, ‘’if you are hungry…"

Lucy’s mouth curved into a mischievous grin. "Oh, I’m hungry,´´ she murmured in a low, playful growl, ´´but not for the food" sweeping you up into her arms.

You giggled, letting yourself melt into her hold as she carried you down the hall.

When you reached your bedroom, she set you back down just before the door, gesturing grandly. "After you."

Stepping inside, you smiled. Your bedroom was transformed; the curtains were closed, a soft glow of dozens of candles casting warm, flickering light everywhere, their soft glow enveloping you both. The bed was covered in rose petals, arranged in the shape of a heart.

"It’s beautiful, Luce," you murmured, touched. "You put so much effort into this."

She shook her head modestly, glancing away. "No, it’s really nothing, I just wanted to—"

You turned back to her with a chuckle. "The candles are fake, I hope?"

Lucy laughed, scratching the back of her neck as she joined you in the room. "Oh, yeah. I figured it was… safer… and you know, I could put them on already."

You nodded and closed the space between you, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, wordlessly letting her know just how much everything meant to you.

Lucy held your gaze for a moment, eyes soft before she took your hand, leading you gently toward the bed.

The room felt warm as you stepped inside, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. You turned toward Lucy, feeling the quiet electricity in the air between you both.

There was a heartbeat of silence, a moment where the two of you just looked at each other, taking in this instant you’d both waited for.

Lucy broke the silence first, her fingers brushing over your cheek, down to your jaw and pausing there as her eyes searched yours. Her gaze was soft, maybe a little nervous but entirely steady, holding a depth of care that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world she could see. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with quiet awe.

A shy smile tugged at your lips, and you stepped closer, letting your fingers find the hem of her shirt. “Can I…?” you asked softly, meeting her gaze, asking without words if this was all right.

Lucy nodded, her hands finding their way to your waist, fingers light as though she were both carefull and eager all at once. You began to lift the fabric, inching it upward, feeling a heady mixture of nerves and excitement that made your fingers tremble.

As her shirt lifted, more of her skin was revealed in the warm candlelight and you let out a soft, almost breathless laugh. “You’re… hmm,” you murmured, not able to hide the excitement in your voice.

She chuckled softly, helping you remove her shirt.

Once her shirt was off, you let your fingertips trail slowly along her arms, feeling the curve of her bicep, your touch reverent as if she were something precious, almost sacred. She stayed still, watching you with parted lips, her breathing just a bit heavier then usual.

Your hand continued down over her shoulder and chest, tracing lightly as you went, feeling the defined muscle under soft skin. Fingers sliding over the line of her collarbone, pausing briefly at her chest before continuing downward to her stomach. Your fingertips brushed over the lines of her abs, feeling the strength there. She shivered under your touch.

Her own hands found the buttons of your shirt in response, looking at you for approval and after you nodded she took a steadying breath before unbuttoning them, her eyes never leaving you as more of your skin was revealed. She was quiet, reverent almost, as though seeing you this way was something that left her breathless.

And there you stood, inches apart, taking each other in. The hunger was there, palpable, but so was the sweetness, the awe, as though you were both seeing something rare and precious—something you wanted to savor.

Her lips found yours again, the kiss deepening as she guided you backward, her hands brushing over your shoulders and sides. When you reached the edge of the bed, she swept the rose petals aside with a quick swipe. She lowered you carefully onto the bed and you tugged her down with you.

With a quiet breath, you reached back to unclip your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders. Lucy watched closely, her gaze warm and attentive. She gently slipped the bra off for you, tossing it aside without her eyes leaving your chest.

You whispered her name, wanting her attention, ‘’Luce’’.

She lifted her head, searching your eyes with a slight smile.

"Take yours off too?" you asked, almost shyly.

She nodded immediately. “Of course.” She sat up slightly and tugged off her own bra, letting it fall to the floor as well before leaning back over you, her bare chest now in your view. Your gaze lingered, appreciating every detail, your lips parting slightly as you took in the softness and beauty of her skin, her hardened nipples inviting your touch.

Seeing you captivated, Lucy gently took your hands in hers, smirking a little as she guided them to her chest. She laced her fingers through yours, encouraging you to cup her breasts, your palms brushing over the sensitive peaks. You gave a gentle squeeze, feeling the heat of her skin against your hands, still entranced by her body.

Lucy’s smile softened as she took in your focused expression. “Feels good?” she asked amused.

“Mhm,” you murmured, still in a bit of a daze before you blinked, meeting her eyes. “Yeah.”

..

part 3 next monday

[yamumsyadadd]

Mami and mama

It felt natural coming out of your mouth, like you’d always called them that but it wasn’t until you were home the you realised. 

It was coming to the end of the season, which meant warmer weather and less school, less football too. A big holiday with Alexia and Jenni was planned, Leila and Mapi would be there after too. 

It had been about 8 months since Alexia and Jenni took you home. There were a lot of hiccups along the way and they truly realised that you needed extra love and reminders to be a kid. 

—————————————————————————

You were sitting there, cris-cross applesauce, hands neatly on your thighs, waiting for alexia or Jenni to let you out of your room for the day. 

It was something that started at your old foster home, unless the adults said you could leave your room, you were to sit and wait. You could only leave if your bed was made, your limited toys cleaned up and you were dressed and ready for the day. If you didn’t do it then boy were you in trouble. 

Alexia noticed how quiet you were in the morning, you usually didn’t leave your room without permission and even when it was granted you stood in the corner of the dining room staring longingly at the table. 

“Are you hungry Mariquita?” 

“Sí.” 

You still didn’t move. Almost like a solider on post. It confused her for a while. You were four, but it didn’t look it. You were lanky like Jenni but incredibly skinny, almost too skinny. Your social worker had mentioned that you were underweight and the paediatrician suggested six meals a day that were smaller in size. 

Every morning was the same breakfast, porridge with honey or cinnamon, a bowl of fruit, a piece of toast and two drinks: one orange juice and one milk. At first, you ate and drank it all. Often making yourself sick due to the amount of food, but slowly Alexia and Jenni were able to convince you that it was okay to eat a bit of everything, as long as you were truly full. Jenni usually ate the leftovers anyway. 

They didn’t love taking you to training, but since the event with Eli, it was their best option. After a few weeks the club agreed to turn an old office into a play room of sorts. Alexia and Jenni then spent even longer finding a carer for you. Someone who would be willing to be patient, without be condescending. Someone who would help teach you how to play, to be a kid. That’s what they truly emphasised throughout the interviews. You didn’t know how to play. 

Isabel was their final choice. She was young, younger than Alexia wanted but you took to her quickly. She taught you how to play but also how to paint, how to do simple maths and you taught her about the violin. Like how the modern violin has been around for at least 500 years or that they were usually made from spruce or maple wood. 

At no point did Isabel ask about your Mami or papi, or about foster homes. She didn’t make you talk about the bad stuff but she did help you learn about feelings and what to do when you were having big feelings. It didn’t take long for everyone around you to notice the difference. You were smart, incredibly so, and even though you were shy around certain people, you started to flourish around the adults to deemed safe, two of those being Mapi and Leila. 

—————————————————————————

School had been out for two weeks and Isabel had called in sick, catching the bug you had during the week. That meant that Alexia and Jenni had to bring you pitchside for the day. You’d packed your bag with a few books, your maths sheet Isabel and you were working on and your disposable camera Mapi gave you last week. 

Jenni slathered your face in sunscreen, letting out a satisfied hum when she was done and laughing at the frown on your face, before she ran off she pulled the brim of your hat down so you couldn’t see. 

After you got comfortable, your snack box to the left with your water bottle, your stuffed dog that looked like Nala (that’s exactly why you got it), you started your maths sheet. It was easy work, and you flew through it. 

You didn’t noticed the team had taken a break until the class clown sat down. 

“Hola Mari!” Mapis cheerful voice put a smile on your face immediately, “what are you doing?” 

“Maths! See!” You shoved the paper in her face as you sat up. 

“Wow! You got these all right, you’re the smartest girl in the world Mari!” 

“Mami and mama said that too.” Taking a big mouthful of water you went to move to your snack box before Mapi grabbed your hand. 

“Who?” 

“Mami and mama?” 

“Who are they?” 

“don’t be silly Mapi! You know Mami and mama. They are right over there!” You pointed to Alexia and Jenni who were both drinking and chatting with the other girls. 

“Right, yes of course. Silly me.” Mapi did the same annoying move with your hat before she was gone. You went started reading your new book that Mami had picked up. 

By the end of the day you were tired and your skin had the yucky residue left over from the sunscreen, your snacks were gone and your water was almost done too. 

You were in the middle of a game of tag with Leila and Mapi when it happened. Mapi was in, chasing you around the pitch while most the team watched on with smiles on their faces. Leila, forever the traitor, had scoped you up in her arms so Mapi could tag you. 

“Mami! Mama! Help me. Lele is cheating again!” Everyone froze. Leila wasn’t sure what to do and shared a shocked look with Mapi. As soon she as arms relaxed enough you got yourself out and ran towards your Mami and Mama. Everyone just watched you, no one dared to move. 

“Mariquita? What did you call us?” Jenni got on her knees so she was eye level with you. 

“Mami and mama?” You titled your head at her, truly confused. 

“We are your Mami and mama?” 

“Yes silly! You’re mama, she’s Mami and I’m your mariquita. That’s what Abuela says!” Alexia had turned around, not wanting you to see her cry. The fact that you thought of them as your Mami and mama made them feel on top of the world. 

“You’re our mariquita. Our beautiful, once in a lifetime mariquita. Is that right Ale?” She raised an eyebrow at the other woman who was hastily wiping her tears. 

“Sí, sí. All ours.” The hug that was shared between the three of you very quickly turned into a group hug. Every member of the team joining in and subtlety wiping their tears. 

Once safely tucked into bed that night, Alexia finally let all her tears fall. Jenni held her tight as she cried, shooting a text off to her mother in law. After all, she knew Alexia would’ve spoken to her about hers hopes and fears for the little girl. 

She called us Mami and mama today. Thank you

[tam--lin]

Books For People Who Liked Leverage and White Collar

I've always been a big non-fiction reader, and I'm particularly fond of frauds, scams, and white collar crime. Ever since I finished White Collar last year, I've been meaning to pull together a collection of related books. As you'll quickly learn if you dive into this list, the truth is often wilder than fiction. (A lot more FBI agents yelling FUCK YOU!! at each other across board room tables, for one thing.)

IMPORTANT! Please don't pirate! It hurts authors. Most of these books are available through your local library, including as e-books. You can help local bookstores by purchasing through bookshop dot org, or as audiobooks through libro dot fm.

Category #1: Stand Outs and All-Time Favorites

Bad Blood reads like a thriller, and I genuinely mean that. It's gripping, it's incredible reporting, it's just a jaw-dropping story. Theranos was one of the biggest corporate frauds in history, and Carreyrou masterfully details its rise and fall. Not to spoil what could be considered the book's big twist, but there's no one better to write it, either.

Empire of Pain is also masterful reporting by a well-regarded journalist, but it leans more family drama than thriller. This details the personal machinations that helped create the opioid crisis in America. [Leverage: Redemption 1x1, which IIRC was actually written before the Met removed the Sackler name from their exhibits. Also goes well paired with The Fall Of The House Of Usher.]

Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks is a collection of Radden Keefe's writing for The New Yorker. It explores wine crime (Leverage 5x13 and White Collar 1x12 directly draw from this), a passionate defense attorney, whistle blowers, hit men, and international organized crime. While I recommend the book, much of this content is available for free at newyorker dot com / contributors / patrick-radden-keefe (you can use paywallreader dot com to legally get around the paywall).

Number Go Up moves quickly and is full of fascinating characters and unexpected celebrity cameos. You've got your cringe rappers, your coke-on-a-yacht billionaires, your Harry Potter rationalist poly cult. Seriously, I wish I could read this again for the first time.

Category #2: Odd, "Cozy", Strange

The Feather Thief covers a unique crime by a 20-year-old obsessed with fly fishing.

The Art Thief tells the story of Stéphane Bréitwieser, the most prolific art thief of all time. He stole during the day, from museums full of people, again and again - over 200 times, in fact. He kept his treasures in his bedroom. A fascinating portrait of a strange criminal.

Category #3: Grab Bag

Including stuff that's more adjacent to the topic but still of interest, books I got part way through, and books that are still on my TBR.

Chickenshit Club I'm part way through and enjoying, Never Split the Difference is GREAT and includes lots of true hostage negotiating stories, Fancy Bear Goes Phishing I couldn't get into but that could be because I don't need two pages of text explaining what a string is. (I'm planning on giving it another go.)

Anansi's Gold and The Corporation are both on my TBR; Con Queen of Hollywood is a riveting con story for the first half but gets a little bogged down in biography in the second half.

The Confidence Game is on my TBR and is a classic of the genre, Molly's Game is one of my partner's favorite books, and The Gospel Of Wellness does a great job at exposing how scammy the entire wellness industry is.

Genuinely there are SO many more books I could have included, and I might do another post at some point. Some books were left off intentionally, because I didn't care for them or because another book did it better. Some books were left off simply because my white collar/fraud/cons TBR is extensive and I can't include everything! And some were left off simply because I don't know about them. I'm always looking for quality non-fiction - please do share any related recommendations in the notes.

[tsuutarr]

Pokémon Prom: Arven

Pairing: Arven x GN! reader

Word count: 959

Content: fluff, prom

Summary: a part of my Pokémon Prom series where Pokémon characters ask you out to prom (Arven ver).

Arven can feel the moisture gather at his palms, making them a sweaty mess. He can’t help it, though–this is probably the most nervous he’s been in a while. He’s rehearsed at least a couple hundred times in front of the mirror, afraid to mess up, but the more he practices, the more he thinks he’ll mess up.

“Okay–it’s simple, just ask,” he mutters, clenching and unclenching his hands. “The worst that can happen is a rejection–”

“Is this seat taken?”

Arven’s head swivels so fast he’s pretty sure his neck is broken. “Yeah–no. I mean, no it’s not taken.”

You laugh, taking the spot next to him. “You okay, Arven?”

“Yeah.” He can feel his throat dry as his hands get clammier. “Yeah.”

Your initial smile tips downwards. “Are you sure? You–”

“Yeah!” He says it so loudly that he knows people are looking. “I’m just–ugh.” Nervous? Yeah. But it’s not like he can say that without you asking why. “Don’t mind it. I guess I slept kinda badly last night.”

“Ugh, yeah, that sucks.” Your frown eases into a smile. “But hey! No worries, I’m pretty good at home ec., so having me as your partner should help!”

Partner, Arven repeats inside his head, but says, “Yeah, guess I’ll have to count on you a little this time.”

Before you can say anything else, Mr. Saguaro enters the room, his pink shirt straining against his muscles. “Hello class,” he beams, “I hope you’re excited for today’s class. We’re going to learn how to make sweet hearts. It is a chocolate that gives Pokemon twenty HP when consumed. A fantastic way to let your Pokemon know you love them, no?”

Love, Arven thinks, before smacking his cheeks to rid himself of the thoughts.

You glance at him, whispering, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah–yeah. I’m good.” Arven pretends to give his full attention to Mr. Saguaro even though his attention is pretty firmly set on you. You look at him a bit longer, before following suit and looking at Mr. Saguaro, who has already begun to write the recipe down on the whiteboard.

“Seems pretty simple,” you note, before standing up. “I’ll get the ingredients, so stay here, okay?”

“I can–” Arven begins, but is shut up by your look. “...Okay.”

Satisfied with his answer, you stand up to get the ingredients and tools to make the sweet hearts. 

Arven watches as you leave, internally chastising himself for being so abnormal. He made you worry about him because of how oddly he was acting. Shit. Still, he can’t help but think about how sweet you are. Worried about him–he didn’t deserve it…

The thud of metal hitting the table snaps him out of his own thoughts. He looks towards you as you look down on him. “Got the stuff.”

“Thanks,” Arven responds, repositioning the cuffs of his sleeves. “Let’s get started.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you laugh, watching as Arven sets the tools out. You’d have helped, but Arven’s movements are too quick for you to interject. Instead, you glance at the board to read the instructions. “We’ve got to heat some hot water first, then put a bowl inside the pot.”

“On it.” Arven put everything in place almost robotically, showing his years and years of experience in cooking. You keep watch as he dumps the chocolate chips into the bowl, using a spoon to stir. 

“Huh. You don’t need the instructions?”

“Nah,” he responds, “I’ve done this a lot.”

“Heh.” You grin. “Your Pokemon are lucky to have you–they must be constantly well fed!”

“I’m lucky to have them,” Arven responds, tapping the spoon against the side of the bowl to get the excess chocolate off, “I was really lucky to have met you, honestly.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah–before it was just me and Mabosstiff. But now I have a full team, and I’ve got you. And the student prez and shortie too, I guess.” He mindlessly pours the chocolate batter into the heart molds, before sprinkling some berry powder on the top. His own words only begin to settle in when he realizes that you’ve been silent for a while, and he almost knocks the chocolates over. “I mean–”

“I’m grateful to you too, Arven.” You give him such a bright, earnest smile that he honestly can’t help but flush. “You’re one of the reasons why I got settled into Paldea so well, you know? Thanks for being a part of my journey.” You give a little laugh. “Maybe you’ll be willing to be a part of my next journey, too.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Arven swallows. “Actually… speaking of adventures…”

“Hm?”

“Do you–you know. The–that is–” Arven taps the chocolate mold against the table to get rid of air bubbles. “You know.”

“Yeah?” you encourage as you melt some more chocolate over the stove.

“The dance. The one that’s coming up… I was wondering if you’d–like, do you want to go? Together? No pressure, though.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Oh!” Laughter bubbles out of you. “That’s what it was, huh?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been acting weird all class, y’know.”

“I wasn’t.”

You give him a flat look, before huffing out a laugh. “All right, fine, whatever. I’d be glad to go with you.”

Arven blinks, before his lips twitch upwards. “You mean it?”

“Of course!” you laugh. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” 

“Yes!” he cheers, loud enough that the class looks at him. He sheepishly tacks on, “I’m so glad our sweet hearts are turning out well.”

You suppress a laugh. “Yeah, totally.”

He looks at you, before clearing his throat when your eyes meet. “...So, can I pick you up for dinner? Uh–before the dance, that is?”

You grin. “Does five work?”

He smiles back. “Five works great.”

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 2

No beta, we die like men and edit in post.

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. 

Chapter Summary: You and Steve go hang out at the Palace Arcade with a bunch of high schoolers and pit two against each other in air hockey.

5.5k words

Part 1

Steve learned more in the next half hour about Eddie Munson than he ever wanted to know. Eddie had been in a band since middle school, and he played guitar. Eddie hadn’t started the Hellfire Club, but had taken it over three years ago and had been the designated DM ever since. Eddie probably sold drugs, but wouldn’t sell to freshmen. Eddie had picked out Dustin and Mike in the lunchroom after they had been banished from every other table. Eddie knew everything about metal music and sometimes skipped class to sleep in his van. Eddie lived in a trailer with his uncle Wayne and was probably going to graduate this year. Eddie was just so cool and Dustin clearly looked up to him.

Eddie also had long hair. Well, at least that was something you had been specific about.

“Do you think he’d be interested in going on a date with her?” Steve asked after Dustin had finished gushing about Eddie.

“Maybe?” Dustin said. “He doesn’t talk about his dating life much. We mostly just talk about music and D&D.”

Steve could have strangled him. “Dustin, you just spent the past half hour talking about him, knowing that this was to help her get a date. What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Look, I’m just giving you the information I have.” Dustin said. “If you want you could come to a Hellfire meeting and bring her along to meet him.” Once again he had a shit-eating grin that Steve was quickly losing tolerance for.

“We don’t go there anymore, we’re not gonna be allowed on campus.” Steve said. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, help set up some sort of meeting outside of school?”

Dustin thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Sidequest day!” he said.

“Side- what?”

“Sidequest day! Sometimes Hellfire Club will meet up at the arcade to play games. Eddie will sometimes give buffs or inspiration for the game if we win tickets or get a high score.” Dustin explained.

“You’re speaking an alien language, Henderson.” Steve sighed.

“Just come to the arcade next Saturday and bring her.” Dustin instructed. “We can introduce them, and you can try and play matchmaker.”

It was as good a plan as any, and more importantly it was convenient. It would probably mean skipping out on a potential date but you’d already done so much for him that he’d be willing to give up a Saturday night to help you. He just needed to get you one date, and if that happened to be with Eddie Munson of all people then so be it.

“Fine, we’ll be there.” Steve agreed.

“Good!” Dustin smiled. “Now, about the campaign he’s running-”

Steve would let Dustin ramble for the rest of the shift about the campaign until you came out to politely kick Dustin out when you and Steve closed.

Going out on a Saturday night proved to be more tricky than expected. You were the only one who could reliably work on Saturday nights, being the only one willing to do so. It had taken a lot of pushing and some bribery to have Keith agree to take your shift for the night. He owed you anyway for all the times you had covered for him.

Steve hadn’t told you the full truth about what the plan was. He had only said that since you were a weirdo, he’d take you to the arcade where other weirdos might be. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to you since you’d been to the arcade plenty of times and it was mostly kids there. It didn’t seem like the ideal spot to flirt with guys, but he knew more about this stuff than you did.

He told you to meet him outside the arcade at 6:30, and to look good. You had insisted that you always looked good, but you at least made sure to wear something that made you feel confident and followed up the same with your hair and make up. When was the last time you had an excuse to really put in effort? You looked presentable at work, but this was different. Your reflection in the mirror after you had put yourself together made you feel good. Even if tonight was a total bust on the flirting front, at least you knew you looked good.

It was 6:20 when you showed up at the arcade, and Steve showed up at 6:35. The past fifteen minutes had you watching excited kids and tired parents and disgruntled older siblings enter the building. If you were going to be completely honest, this didn’t seem very promising.

“So, I’m going to be frank with you, everyone here looks either way too young or too old for me.” you said as you both made your way inside. “The only person I’ve seen close to my age hanging around here is Keith and, Harrington, I swear if your end of the bargain is making me go on a date with him, I am firing you on the spot.”

“You can’t fire me.” Steve snorted.

“I can set you on fire.”

“I’m not setting you up with Keith!” he promised, holding his hands up. “I just think that this is a place where a lot of weirdos could hang out. And hey, if there’s no one here that’s interesting we could at least play some games or something.”

“Steve, I have a very serious question for you.” You turned to look him dead in the eyes. “This isn’t you trying to be my date, right? I know you’ve been overloading on romcoms with all the dates you’ve been going on. Please tell me this isn’t some sort of half-ass way to take me on an arcade date so you can say you got me a date.”

“What? No. You’re the one watching too many romcoms here.” Steve accused. “You turned me down, I get it, you have terrible taste. I accept this about you- ow!”

Steve winced as you smacked the back of his head. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure. Let’s just play some games for now, I’m really not seeing anyone our age around here.”

As the two of you made your way around the arcade, Steve kept an eye on the time. Dustin had told Steve that ‘Sidequest Day’ (whatever that meant) would be starting at 7:00. He just needed to keep you entertained for a half hour and then the club would show up.

Lucky for him, you were actually very easy to keep entertained. You bounced around from game to game, with eager enthusiasm often getting distracted by the many blinking lights and sounds from all the machines. You didn’t even notice it when a group of guys walked in all wearing the same shirt.

Steve noticed though.

“Henderson!” He called out, casually.

“Steve!” Dustin walked up to him. “What a surprise, I did not expect to see you at the arcade tonight!”

You looked up from a cabinet that you were considering playing, that was a weird tone of voice Dustin had used. One that seemed- no it was suspicious. Steve and Dustin had definitely planned on meeting here tonight. They really were not as smooth as they thought they were. But who were you to spoil a plan? You decided to roll with it.

“Hey, Dustin!” You said walking over to the pair. “Good to see you again.”

“They let you leave the Family Video?” Dustin asked. “The way Steve talked, you’d think they kept you chained to the front desk.”

“Union rules say that they have to let me leave at least once a week for mandatory enrichment time.” you joked. “Somehow I got lucky and got a Saturday off.”

You looked over Dustin, and his bright open button up on top of his Hellfire Club shirt. You had vague memories about that club in high school.

“Hellfire Club... I remember that from when I was in school.” you said after a moment. “Yeah, wasn’t it Chris Morrison that ran it?” You turned towards Steve.

“How would I know? I was popular.” Steve said.

“Yeah, I think he was the leader until he graduated and then Eddie took over.” Dustin said, looking down at his shirt. “I think he said that the club was a lot smaller back then.”

“Yeah well Chris was a dick who didn’t actually want anyone joining his super secret club.” you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Wait, you knew him?” Dustin’s eyes widened.

“That’s a strong word, but we were in the same grade. I tried to ask him about the club once but he blew me off and told me I wasn’t smart enough to understand the game. So I got a copy of the rule book and spent the next few weeks memorizing it out of spite.” you snorted.

Steve looked at you like you had lost your mind (fair), and Dustin looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said (impressed).

“...Anyway, I see a lot of the same shirt running around now. I take it that Hellfire isn’t as closed off now?” you asked.

“Uh, yeah!” Dustin said. “The new leader- Eddie- he’s a lot more open to people joining. He’s the one who invited me and Mike to join.”

You looked over at where Mike was leaning over a cabinet in concentration. He didn’t come into Family Video as often as Dustin did to bother Steve, but he had come in enough for you to witness the kid shoot up about a foot in the past few months.

“It’s alarming how fast he’s growing.” you said. “Well, I’m glad that it’s more open now and that you’re having fun with it.”

“Yeah, Eddie’s great, you should meet him!” Dustin said.

You stared at him, and slowly looked over to Steve whos’ face had met his palm.

“Steve.” you said slowly. “Did you bring me to the arcade to meet a highschooler?”

“He’s twenty!” Both Dustin and Steve said in unison. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You knew that the dating pool would be limited for you, but you didn’t think it would be that narrow. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if Dustin and Steve both vouched for this guy it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Oh boy.” you sighed. “Alright, I’ll play along. Does this guy know I’m supposed to be meeting him?”

“Nope!” Dustin said. “He doesn’t have a clue.”

“Wait, did you tell Dustin about our deal, Steve?” you asked.

“I needed help and he happened to have a new older male friend that happens to be a freak.” Steve said nonchalantly. Well, this was going to be a very interesting night.

“He’s more than just a freak, you know.” frowned Dustin.

You racked your brain trying to think back to your time in high school, trying to remember if you knew any Eddie’s. In all honesty, you never were good at noticing people outside of your own circle of friends. How some people seemed to know everyone's full name and popularity rank was beyond you. Hawkins High had 2000 students, like how did people even know that much? Who had the time? Who cared?

While Dustin and Steve continued their odd squabble, you looked around the arcade for this mystery person. Nope, still nothing but not-age-appropriate high schoolers. Oh well, the Q*bert cabinet was free, and playing a round was better than standing around nervously to meet someone who had no idea they were being set up to meet you.

Damn, poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into tonight. You felt a little bad that you were potentially crashing his club’s night out. If this went bad, you were putting Steve on backroom duty for a month.

“Where are you going?” Dustin asked as you walked off.

“I’m gonna play a game,” you said, putting your quarter in the machine. “Let me know when this guy shows up because I cannot take the suspense.”

“You know, this is why it’s hard to get you a date. You keep saying you’re interested and then the second you have a chance to meet someone you change the subject.” Steve sighs, leaning against the machine.

“Who are you, my therapist?” You asked, focusing on the game. “I know you’re right. If I’m going to be completely honest with you I am actually nervous about meeting someone. I’m sure that it’ll be fine and I have no real expectations but it’s still hard to put yourself out there.”

“I’ve been putting myself out there for months and had a two month dry streak.” he pointed out as Dustin stepped behind you and watched you play.

“You’re King Steve. People will like you no matter if they date you or not. You’re popular, as you love to keep reminding me.” You didn’t take your eyes from the screen.

“Yeah, well I was also a total dick in high school.” Steve admitted. “I fucked up a lot and pissed a lot of people off because I thought I was hot shit. If you want the honest truth, I’d probably be a better person if I hadn’t tried so hard to be popular. It took getting my ass kicked for me to realize that.”

“It’s true, he got his ass beat a lot this summer.” Dustin piped up which earned a glare from Steve.

You thought this over, the movement of the character on screen helping you think. “If I wasn’t enough for anyone in Hellfire when I was a junior, if I wasn’t enough for the freaks when I was a weirdo in school, why would I be now?”

“Because Chris Morrison was a dick!” Dustin yelled out, far louder than he really should have.

“Jesus, Dustin we are right here!” you said, shaking your head.

“Henderson is right.” a new voice said from behind you. “Morrison was the biggest asshole that Hellfire has ever seen. Worst DM too.”

The voice was lower in tone than Steve’s, and there was an energy to it that made everything else background noise. This new person was very sure of themselves, and you had a very bad feeling of who was going to be standing behind you as soon as you turned around.

You focused even harder on the game.

“I had one conversation with him in Junior year and promised myself to never talk to him again.” you said, trying to calm yourself. He definitely did not sound like a high schooler, which was a good sign. You risked a glance at Steve who looked like he didn’t know what to make of the newcomer. That was a bad sign. Maybe.

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have kept talking to him if I could have helped it.” This voice- you were going to just assume it was Eddie, said. “I didn’t think you were the type to hang out at the arcade, Harrington.”

“I’m not.” Steve said. “I am only here for a friend.” Steve gestured to you, smacking your hand on ‘accident’ and making you die. “Whoops.”

It was clear he had done that completely on purpose. Backroom duty for a week.

“Thanks, Steve.” you said and turned around slowly to face this new person.

Oh, you were going to murder Steve Harrington into the ground dead. The man before you- and he was definitely a man- was unfortunately for you, completely your type. Long wavy brown hair fell just past his shoulders onto a denim vest covered in buttons and patches over a leader jacket. He was also wearing a Hellfire Club t-shirt and you glanced a quick look at his ripped jeans and wallet chain.

You wished that you would have warned Steve that you were never your types’ type. This was doomed before it even started. But that was a freeing thought in a way, you weren’t going to be this guy's type so that meant you didn’t have to try. If Steve could hear your thoughts, he’d probably get pissed at you for already giving up, but that was fine.

“Oh uh, Eddie, this is Steve and his co-worker.” Dustin said, introducing you by your name and title. “They both went to Hawkins High.”

“Nice to meet you.” you reached out and offered your hand, and he took it. Eddie’s hand was warm and you got a glance at chunky silver rings on his fingers. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite read; he was smiling but also seemed to be studying you.

“I know who King Steve is.” Eddie said in a way that made Steve roll his eyes. “When did you go to school?” he asked.

“I graduated in ‘83.” you said, looking at him. His eyes were very round and expressive, and he was still studying you. There was something familiar about him that you couldn’t place your finger on. Then again, he was only a little younger than you so you probably saw him in school.

That was good enough for Eddie as he dropped your hand and turned back to Dustin. “So, Henderson. Are you going to keep standing there talking, or are you going to earn that magic dice roll you’ve been talking about all week?”

You’d never seen Henderson look nervous around Steve, but there was tension in Dustin’s shoulders as Eddie talked to him. But you didn’t get the sense that it was a bad thing, Eddie seemed... intense. With Steve, Dustin was always ready to bicker with and defy. With Eddie, he was ready to hop to it, whatever it was.

Geeze, no wonder Steve was jealous.

“Yup!” Dustin said quickly. “I’m just gonna go, go over there and find something to play.” He glanced at you pointedly before hurrying off in Mike’s direction.

“So, my friend here actually had an interest in Hellfire Club back in the day.” Steve said before Eddie could turn and leave. Eddie looked at you in surprise.

No one would find Steve’s body after you were done with it.

“Really?” Eddie said. “And what about our little club was so interesting to you?”

You didn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes glanced at Steve. That was a look you understood all too well, it was one you’d given many a popular kid back in the day. Eddie thought Steve was being a dick, and for good reason. That was the look you’d given when someone came up to you and said ‘my friend thinks you’re cute’. Except now you were the friend.

There was no going back now, you couldn’t let that tension be his first impression of you. Steve had set you up to be honest and vulnerable right off the bat. Great.

“Yeah, I asked Chris about joining back then.” you said honestly. “I’d had an interest in D&D, but never had a chance to play. But he shot me down pretty hard, so I... didn’t.”

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he looked down at you. “That doesn’t surprise me.” he said. “He was a bigger cynic than I am, and wouldn’t give anyone outside Hellfire the time of day. He didn’t even talk to anyone after he graduated.”

His gaze didn’t leave yours and it almost felt like there was a spotlight on you. Or maybe one of those lamps that you’d see in movies when someone was being interrogated. Eddie might have relaxed but you had a feeling that Steve being here wasn’t exactly winning you points. But Steve was also your friend, which made things a bit complicated.

Damn, why did you always have to be the one to bend over backwards to impress a guy? This is why you stopped dating in high school. Oh wait, this guy didn’t even know he was supposed to be making an impression. Looks like you were going to have to be the one to take the lead on this one.

Not that it mattered, because as previously stated, this was already dead on arrival.

The conversation immediately stagnated, as anything interesting you could have possibly said died in your throat. You could feel Steve’s gaze boring into your skull now, willing you to say something.

“Yeah, he wasn’t really social.” you managed to force out.

The sound of a game machine and hyped yelling suddenly echoed through the arcade and the three of you looked up to see the whole club huddled around a basketball game, cheering one of their friends on.

Eddie took that as his sign to remove himself from the conversation and made his way towards the game without so much as a goodbye.

“Seriously?” Steve asked when Eddie was out of earshot. “I hand you a conversation topic on a plate and you fumble it that badly?”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say!” you groaned. “Gossiping about Chris Morrison isn’t exactly the juicy conversation topic you think it is.”

“You were supposed to talk about your nerd shit, not about Chris!” he shot back.

“He thought we were making fun of him, Steve.” you said, watching as Eddie stood with his arms crossed as his club cheered over the game they were playing. Two members flanked him on each side, and even if you didn’t know that he was in charge, it was clear that he held power over these kids.

“Making fun of him? How the hell did you get that idea?” Steve was gawking at you. “I told him you were interested in his weird club!”

“Steve, I get that you were popular in high school. But you know that popular kids are dicks right? That popular kids will say things that sound nice, but are clearly making fun of whatever it is they’re talking about? That’s what he thought was happening.” You sighed.

“That’s not- I didn’t-” He was at a loss for words for a moment. “Shit. Did it really sound like that?”

“With the way he looked at me? Yeah, he thought so.”

The two of you were quiet for a moment, and you leaned against the arcade cabinet again as you contemplated what the next move would be. Maybe you’d just adopt a cat or twelve instead.

“I knew people did that.” Steve admitted after a while. “I hated it, but I went along with that shit because my shit friends told me it was fine and cool.”

“Steve, while I always appreciate that you are always learning and growing, let’s save the character development for later.” you said, cracking your knuckles. “Now, are you gonna help me talk to this guy or what?”

That snapped him out of his pity party. “You’re right, tonight isn’t about me. I’m sorry.” He looked at the club who was moving away from the hoops game and was spreading out again. You noticed that it was Lucas who they had been cheering for, Mike and Dustin were clapping him on the shoulder in congratulations. It was nice seeing the three hanging out together again.

“So you are interested in him” Steve said suddenly, looking at you with wide eyes. “That conversation was so dry I thought you weren’t actually interested.”

You glanced down at the obnoxiously colored carpet with mild embarrassment. “Steve, I’ll be frank with you-”

“Hi, Frank.”

That cut the tension and the two of you found yourself laughing- it wasn’t even funny but it was an inside joke that you two had shared over the past four months. It reminded you that despite how different you two were, he was still your friend.

“Shut the actual fuck up, Harrington.” you laughed. “I’m serious.”

“I thought you were Frank.”

“Shut up.” you gasped out. It really was not funny and yet the two of you couldn’t stop laughing. You two must have looked like idiots to anyone who was passing by you, and you were. You were both idiots.

When the laughter finally subsided, you looked over at Steve. “Steve, I think he’s attractive.”

“I do not see the appeal, but I still accept you have weird taste- don’t hit me again!” He lifted his hands as you raised your own.

You lowered your arm and looked around the arcade until your gaze fell on Eddie again.

"It's pissing me off because I swear I should know him, but I can't put my finger on it." You said as he put a quarter in a machine to play. "I mean, yeah we went to the same school but I feel like there's something else."

"I'm surprised you two didn't know each other." Steve said. "He's the freak of Hawkins and you're weird. Shouldn't you two have crossed paths before?"

"Maybe?" You shrugged. "I was oblivious in school. I only knew your name because being called 'the hair' is objectively funny."

"Ha ha. Super funny."

You kept Steve talking as you tried to figure out your next move. Him and Dustin had gone out of their way to try and introduce you to someone, and you didn't want to have those efforts wasted.

"That'll work" you said, interrupting whatever Steve was saying. You grabbed his hand and dragging him over to the air hockey table where Mike and Dustin were in the middle of an intense game.

You put two quarters down on the edge of the table as the puck whizzed by your fingers, hurdling towards Mike's goal. There was a loud and satisfying clack as Mike pushed it towards Dustin.

"I'm playing the winner." You said firmly.

Another satisfying clack echoed as Dustin pushed the puck back.

"I'll be more than happy to play you when I kick Mike's ass." Dustin said, not looking up.

"You're two points down, there's no way you're beating me!" Mike shot back with his words and puck.

"You've never beat me at air hockey before and I'm not letting you start now!"

You pulled your hands back from the edge of the table as the two friends trash talked each other. Steve moved to Dustin's side while you drifted closer to Mike, an unspoken rivalry brewing between the four of you.

Well, unspoken til you opened your mouth.

"Kick his ass, Mike." You said, watching as the puck shot back and forth between the boys.

"That's what I'm doing!" The gangly teen responded as the clack of the game echoed through the arcade.

Steve, shook his head. "I thought you said you had a plan?"

"My idea was I wanted to play air hockey." You said. "I never said it had anything to do with anything else."

Dustin looked up from the table as the puck shot through the goal on Mike's side, with a triumphant grin.

"See? I was going easy on you, Mike!" He said.

Mike groaned "You're still a point behind and I need a point to win." He said, setting the puck back out.

"I've beat you under worse conditions. Plus El isn't here to help you." Dustin shot back.

"She doesn't help!" Mike said defensively.

"Oh, and I am supposed to believe that the pink was just sent flying like that because you're so strong last time?"

"Yes! Exactly! Now shut up!" Mike said, giving Dustin a glare that clearly told him to shut up. You looked at Steve for clarification, but he was decidedly not looking at you.

Weird.

The game continued between the two boys, with you and Steve each cheering on your respective freshmen. Mike had the reach, but Dustin had the brain.

"Just give it up, Henderson- I'm gonna win and get that advantage in the next session." Whatever this rivalry was, you were now living for it. You had spent so long in a work-home-work rut, and this was way more entertaining than hearing about Steve's love life.

"Yeah? What are you gonna use it for? Another failed summoning spell?" Dustin laughed.

"It would have worked if it wasn't for Eddie's stupid rule about-"

"Stupid? Oh, I'm sure he'd love to hear more about your idea of how he should have let you cheat. HEY, EDDIE! MIKE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU."

Both you and Mike visibly tensed as Dustin yelled out for the whole arcade to hear. You gave Steve a panicked look that mirrored Mike's so perfectly that Steve had to laugh.

Backroom duty for a month.

Eddie appeared again, standing on the opposite side of the table of you and Steve, looking at his freshmen.

"Oh really? And what could Mike Wheeler want to speak to me about?" He asked.

You didn't miss the way his eyes glanced over to you and Steve for a split second. There was an air about him that you were trying to put your finger on. The best way would be to say that he was 'on'. Right now, he was in charge of his club, and he didn't seem excited that a former popular basketball player and a background character were crashing what was supposed to be his night out.

You were starting to regret this meetcute.

“Nothing!” Mike said, his voice cracking as he barely managed to block the puck from going into the goal. It was a tense game now, and it was clear that Dustin had put Mike into a disadvantage by bringing Eddie into this.

Steve made eye contact with you and gave you a shit eating grin. Oh no, no he wasn’t going to-

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Steve waved and quickly made an exit.

Two months in the backrooms.Plus bathroom duty.

It was clear why he ditched you with the way Eddie’s eyes darted as he left. There was a hint of distrust, one that you couldn’t blame him for. The only way you could possibly get an in with this guy would be if Steve wasn’t there waving his popularity flag.

Eddie glanced back over to you for just a split second before turning back to Mike.

“You sure about that, Wheeler?” He asked, an amused edge in his voice. “Because Henderson over here seems to think you have something you wanna say to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say!” The panic in Mike’s voice was evident, and Dustin just barely missed getting into the goal. “Nothing! We’re all good here- shit”

The puck, which had been flying between the two teens so fast now you could hardly keep up, had been caught on Mike’s- Clacker? Paddle? (Did that thing even have a word?). It had been caught between that and the corner, sending the puck flying upwards and flying straight towards your face. By some miracle, you managed to catch it, clapping it between your hands before it made contact with your nose. It probably wouldn’t have hurt, but you still weren’t interested in finding out.

“Holy shit.” you said with a laugh as the three guys looked at you in surprise. Mike looked embarrassed, and Dustin looked impressed.

“Nice reflexes!” he laughed.

“Damn, Mike you almost killed me! I know you’re still pissed I wouldn’t let you rent an R rated movie, but assassination is a bit overkill, don’t you think?” you asked.

“Shit, sorry.” Mike said, reaching for the puck again. You pulled it back and shook your head.

“Final round, sudden death.” you said.

“Seriously?! He’s still a point behind me!” Mike protested.

“Nu-uh. Almost killing me loses you a point.”

“I think that’s gotta be up to Eddie.” Dustin pointed out. “I mean, he’s the one in charge tonight.”

Oh, right. Oops. For a second you had actually forgotten that you were the one crashing the party here and that you didn’t have the same sway over the kids when not at work or when Steve wasn’t here.

You looked up at the man in front of you, pushing away any nerves and bottling them up to deal with later or never. What the hell did you have to prove to him anyway? Nothing. God, you were so bad at this, Steve was going to have an aneurysm trying to help you kick start a love life.

“What say you, Eddie of Hellfire?” you asked, offering him the puck as an act of goodwill.

His hand reached out, taking it as he considered you. You held your ground and met his eyes, not daring to give him any reason you had anything against him.

Eddie’s eyes moved between Mike’s panicked face and Dustin’s eager one. It was so funny how the two had zero problems bullying Steve but they made damn sure not to piss Eddie off. Well, at least too much if Dustin’s shit-eating grin was anything to go by.

A large grim broke out on Eddie’s face as he held the puck over the center of the table.

“Sudden death it is.” He said, staring directly at you as the puck dropped on the table.

Next Chapter

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @ali-r3n , @mxchese, @josephquinncore , @gagasbee, @peaches-roses-sins , @witchwolflea , @vintagehellfire , @royale1803 , @cumslutforaemond ,@prestinalove , @browneyedgirly93 , @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile

[feyhunter78]

AAAA I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART I LOVE YOUR WRITING SMM ❤️❤️

Thank you!!!! 🥺🥺 I'm excited to see y'all's reactions to the newest chapterrrrr Also, I lied about the smut it's in the next chapter, but there is some suggestive type stuff unfortunately it's from Todd

Pink Pastels Pt 9

Description: It's Saturday, and you're at a sports bar with Todd, until you find yourself on the roof with Spiderman.

Pt 10

It’s Saturday. One of your two days off, and all you want to do is relax, but here you are at a shitty sports bar, beer already spilled on your shorts by some drunk idiot, your boyfriend completely ignoring you as he pounds his fist against the bar, screaming at the TV. His team is losing, you assume, as you push away from the bar, drink in hand, and wonder back to your table.

You pull out your phone and scroll through your email, responding to a few, ignoring others, until finally you see a response from a kid in your class’s mother.

Jessica Tompson: Ms. Y/N, I will be available at six PM on Monday to meet with you regarding Tommy’s behavior. I look forward to getting to the bottom of this issue.

You smile and send her a quick response back; you’ve been trying to get Tommy’s mother in for a meeting since October. Tommy wasn’t a bad kid, he just needed extra support and attention, and potentially some ADHD testing. But you knew people were hesitant to test their kids, afraid to “label” them, even though those “labels” could really help their kids in school.

You couldn’t count how many times you’ve explained that identifying where kids are struggling can get them access to accommodations that they need to thrive. Such as extra time on assignments or a quieter, smaller room to take tests in, so they weren’t as distracted. Sure, they wouldn’t get these things forever, but if they got them now, it would help them learn how to self-regulate for the future.

You tap your fingers on the tabletop happily and bound over to Todd. “Hey, guess what, I’m finally getting that mom to come in and talk to me.”

“Who?” He asks, beer in hand, his eyes glued to the screen.

“Tommy Tompson’s mom.”

“Oh, the hot one with the nice rack?”

One of his friends high-fives him, and you put on a tight smile. “I don’t really look at my students’ parents like that, but maybe?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got eyes, sue me.” Then he slammed his beer down on the bar. “Are you fucki—that’s bullshit, Ref!”

Miguel wouldn’t say things like that, he wouldn’t ignore you for football. He’d congratulate you, slip between your legs, his full lips parted, his pink tongue finding a hom— You shake yourself out of your thoughts.

This was crazy, you shouldn’t have done that… Should have stuck to fantasizing about a celebrity, or well, you should’ve been thinking about Todd, he is your boyfriend.

“What a shitty call, Ref!” You echo him, and that earns you a smile thrown your way, and an arm around your shoulders.

You just want things to go back to how they used to be, but honestly, you’re not even sure it used to be good. Maybe you just didn’t really know any different, but now after, all those little chats at pickup, during parent teacher meetings, and then the day at the zoo? How is it that a man, who barely knows you, treats you better than your boyfriend of years?

You walk home with Todd leaning heavily on you, his lips are on your neck, sloppy and clumsy, missing that certain spot on your neck in favor of slobbering all over your skin.

“Todd, maybe we need to slow down a bit.” You say carefully, trying to pry him off you.

“Again?” He sighs heavily, annoyance clear in his tone.

Your face flushes, shame burning through you, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay.

When you first started dating you were so new to everything, you’d had a few boyfriends before, but they were short-lived, almost chaste. Todd on the other hand was a complete and utter manwhore.

“I thought you were over all that.” He grumbles, trudging along the sidewalk, refusing to look at you.

He wanted everything fast, fast, fast, and you were dragged along for the ride, anxious and unprepared.

“I am, I am, it’s just you’re drunk, and your head is going to hurt in the morning…” You tell him, helping him up the stairs and through your apartment door.

He makes a beeline for your living room and flops down on your couch. “So, what, I want you, and you’re my girlfriend, so.”

You try to hide your grimace, but he sees it and groans.

“You’re always like this, I swear, such a prude.” He throws an arm over his eyes and unzips his pants, pulling his cock out.

You blanch, there’s no way he’s just going to jerk off, drunk, in the middle of your living room, right?

“Todd, seriously?” You snap, grabbing a decorative pillow and hurling it at him.

He ignores you, pumping himself, grunts and groans spilling from his lips. You used to find him attractive, you’ve always liked when he was vocal but now? Now it feels traitorous to hear him instead of Miguel.

But you’ve never heard Miguel, your mind was just making things up, that’s what dreams and fantasies are.

“You’re such a dick.”

He sat up, still gripping his erect cock. Was it smaller than you remembered? “Maybe I wouldn’t be if you’d do your job.”

"My job?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

He points at his cock, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, there’s no way he means what you think he means.

“Good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.” He says it with such certainty, that it sounds ridiculous.

You bust out laughing, doubling over, gasping for breath. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m not, you’re just a—” then he goes quiet, and you look up to see him passed out cold, cock still in hand.

You stand there for a moment, flabbergasted. There’s no fucking way that just happened.

Throwing a blanket over Todd, you head for the fire escape a different blanket in hand, climbing up to the roof, and sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling, your hands behind you supporting you as you lean back.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head up towards the night sky. It feels good out here, cool breeze, the sounds of the city at night, the gentle coo of the pigeons the apartment manager cares for.

A soft thump draws your attention, and you jump scrambling away from the edge, and turning on your heel. Only to come face to chest with Spiderman.

“I wish it was that easy to get everyone off the ledge.” He says, a hint of humor in his voice.

You remember what he looks like, and his face, mask? is everywhere, but it’s different when you’re not terrified or watching some grainy news footage.

“And he’s funny too.” You joke, giving him a small smile.

He tilts his head, scanning you, then reaches out and his gloved thumb brushes across your cheek. “You were crying?”

Were you crying? You touch your face, your fingertips coming away damp. “Oh, I didn’t even notice, it’s just been a long day.”

You spread out your blanket and sit, your back against the wall, and you pat the space before you.

“Won’t your boyfriend be upset if he found out, you’re sharing a blanket with a masked hero?” He teases, sitting in the space you made for him.

“My boyfriend is currently passed out drunk with his dick in his hand.” You tell him, the low light making you braver than you’d normally be.

He goes silent, the eye parts of his mask widening, and you think that’s his version of raised eyebrows.

“He was drunk and pissed at me because I didn’t want him to slobber up my neck, so then he whips it out, and when I tell him to stop, he calls me a prude and says I should do my job , which is such an asshole thing to say.” It feels good to ramble, to just vent all your feelings onto this masked semi-stranger.

“Do your job?” Spiderman asks, his eyes narrowed.

“He said, and I quote, good girls suck their boyfriend’s dick.’ Literally so ridiculous…” You trail off as Spiderman rolls his shoulders back.

For a moment you’re hypnotized by the movement, the sheer mass of muscle.

“…shoes?”

You snap out of it. “I’m sorry?”

“Did you like your new shoes?” He asks, and you hear a smile in his voice.

Wow, y/n, rude much? You didn’t even think to thank the man who not only saved your life, but also replaced your shoes.

“Yes, thank you so much, how much do I owe you?” You go to pull out your wallet but realize you left it in your bedroom.

“No, it’s alright, consider it an apology for not getting there fast enough.” He holds his hands up in a pacifying manner.

You purse your lips but nod. “Alright, well, again, thank you.”

You’re fiddling with the necklace Gabi and Miguel got you, and it seems to catch his eye. “That’s pretty, your boyfriend get you that?”

You shake your head, dropping the pendant. “No, it was a gift from one of my kids, I’m a teacher.”

“That’s cute, do you mind if I?” He motions towards it slightly, and you lean forward, letting him catch it between two long fingers. “Very nice.”

“Yeah, I think it’s really sweet.” You smile up at him, breath catching in your throat when he releases the pendant close to your skin, his fingertip brushing the tops of your breasts.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to touch...” He says quickly, retracting his hand.

You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“What’d your boyfriend say?”

“About the gift? I don’t think he even noticed.” You scoff, brushing your hair back from your shoulders.

“No, what did he say after you turned him down?” His voice is lower, warmer, spreading across your skin and seeping into your bones.

“Oh well, he tried to argue then passed out.” You giggle, Spiderman’s masked form still inches from your own.

Spiderman lets out a low hum and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “He phrased it all wrong, good girls don’t suck dick, they take cock.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7

[oonajaeadira]

here's what i think

An anniversary is a really good time to reassess.

I really hate the lead up to my yearly job assessment, but every year I leave my boss' desk knowing that I'm valued and I'm actually contributing and innovating more than I can see from my perspective. It's an amazing motivator and helps me to appreciate my work. I hate doing it, but so glad when it's done.

I very much believe that we should have to retake our drivers test every year. It reminds people how to navigate a four-way stop and weeds out people who are not fit to drive for whatever reason. Cars are murder machines and a yearly test ensures most people will think about the choices they make and remember the rules more readily.

On our anniversary, the SO and I take the time to appreciate our relationship and put on the table things we'd like to work on or change, things we'd like to do in the next year together. It helps to get it out at once, shine up the nice bits, sift through the things we don't need anymore. Clears the air, confirms we're on the same page.

Birfdays should be the same. I like to walk through my day as normally as possible--well, maybe with a few treats--and just appreciate what I have, listen and look at the world around me and realize what life is and what's in it--that I"M in it. Try to clear my head of the mundane and see creation for what it is--one big damned miracle.

In a perfect world, I think we should be able to go to a life expert once a year on our birfday and just tell them what we think about anything and everything. Maybe just recount our blessings, talk about what we've learned in the past year, how we've grown spiritually or bodily. Maybe even just be quiet or say, "Yeah, it's good, I'm pretty content." However long or short it takes. Then they say, "Great. Today you are one year older. Would you like to try for another?" And most of the time people will say, "Yes. I will keep having this adventure" or "Yes, I would like to try a different tactic this year" or "It's hard, but I don't think I'm done yet" and they are sent on their way. The point being that they have to say out loud to another human "I am alive and here's how I feel about it and I'm going to live at least one more year if I can." But on the flip side, say you've been suffering illness or you're old and hurting, I think you should be able to say on that day "I've seen some pretty neat stuff and laughed a lot, but I'm not going to get better and every day will hurt a little more. I can't see myself going through another year of this. I think I'm ready to just call it in." And then you would have a medical team to help you shut it all down with ease and dignity and mercy. There's some nuance to every situation, of course. In a perfect world, I'm saying. A world that doesn't and can't exist.

A year is a very short time. It's long enough to forget rules or that things exist outside of routine. I always pop my parking brake when I stop for gas because if you don't use it--if you don't shake it up now and then--it can rust in place and get stuck. It can lose its function and reason for being.

I like to use anniversaries to "pop my parking brake" and "look through the owner's manual." Just to refresh. Just to make sure the system is functioning. And maybe remind myself on a tip or two of how to drive this thing.

Yes, life is very nice. I am enjoying it a lot. It was a good year full of friends and stories and dogs and seeing the world. Yes, I think I shall do another.

[randomnumbers751650]

Saying that No Game, No Life is wasted potential isn’t a particularly new take, but still, I can’t help but to think about it. When I first watched it, I honestly didn’t notice how weird it is, how shock-full of invasive fanservice it was, just that it was colorful and had an engaging plot – I only learned of that when rewatching clips and I honestly can’t understand how I just not noticed those things at all and that makes me wonder how much of it is the editor’s demands or the author decided to put there (because, in order to sell, there needs to be a bit or a lot of otaku pandering).

In hindsight, Sora and Shiro were really different from other isekai protagonists. Most of them were really “normal people” given powers, reflecting the average audience of these works, with varying degrees of success. Sora does seem like the standard isekai protagonists at first: people who feel they don’t fit on Earth and would be glad to turn their virtual escapism into a real one.

But, the more you watch, the more you realize there’s nothing normal about these two: they’re both batshit insane. They don’t concoct crazy plans because the situation demands them to, but rather they’re the ones pushing forward those crazy plans, they’re the ones betting everything on the table in order to win a game. And, above all, they want to have fun doing it.

Tet didn’t just bring them to the new world, but he spirited them away. Before the term “isekai’d” was popularized in anime fandoms, the term was “spirited away” (just like the movie) when a god or entity decided to take someone from their world into a new one; there are hundreds of stories like that in many cultures before isekais. Tet saw them as perfect for his plans and thus he didn’t give them a lot of say.

And it makes me wonder what made Sora and Shiro reject their world so deeply, before being spirited away. They are in their own room playing games and criticizing real life for being such a crappy game. They probably were into e-sports or something (which, given their ability, wouldn’t be a big problem), and that would explain how they could afford all that stuff and why they are so attached to their stuff, that's all they have besides each other. I remember there was a flashback with their parents or guardians just walking past them and I think that’s a great example of minimalism – it teases you into thinking what actually happened, but that’s the only it’s needed to explain their perspective: no one really likes them in Earth. Maybe they tried to make friends and couldn’t, maybe everyone looked at them for being different. This makes plausible why they just stop working when they’re separate (something the anime never had time to explore, but I’m sure it would play a role in the later game).

Also, one thing that attracted most was that the author (Yuu Kamiya, or Thiago Furukawa Lucas) was born and lived in Brazil for most of his early years, before moving to Japan. As a Brazilian, I always thought that to be amazing, because I can see some “Brazilianity” in NGNL. I mean, I hope I’m not seeing things that aren’t there, but an author adds the flavor they grew up with consciously or not. Sora’s “I love humanity” shirt reminds me of the catchphrase “Sou brasileiro e não desisto nunca” (I’m Brazilian and never give up) and even the Brazilian method of resourcefulness (called “jeitinho”, check r/ItHadToBeBrazil and you’ll get it), which might be a component on how Sora and Shiro act in their crazy plans. It makes me want to try to read isekai not as an escapist fantasy, but rather as a metaphor for immigration.

The series also has a degree of deconstruction: Tet rewrote the rules of the world to avoid that catastrophic war and centuries later it feels like the inhabitants of Disboard learned nothing, there’s still racism and high demands for war, and humans are an endangered species. So, he needs Sora and Shiro to break through this probably teach a lesson, so that they can unite all the peoples of Disboard in the best game ever against Tet.

But I don’t think we’ll ever see that. The jeitinho has a dark side, represented by the saying “Pra Deus, até faço gol de mão” (I’ll even score a goal with my hand for God), and a Brazilian can understand how it applies here. Kamiya got involved in a plagiarism case and I’m not sure if his reputation rebounded or not. Either way, I have to admit I haven’t followed the light novel’s updates since a bit later after the anime ending, but the fact no one talks about it means that I guess we can only expect the worse.

Either way, it’s been over 10 years since I watched NGNL and it was something that really let a mark on me. I honestly think isekai opens the possibility to explore so many questions and scenarios. Even if NGNL recycled certain very very questionable tropes and pandering, I do believe it did try to do something different and fun with it.

[highly-nonexistent]

There is something very weird about the relatively short nature of the culture surrounding website creation. As in, like, internet-user-created websites have been around for like 30-31 years at this point, and the culture surrounding them has changed so very much.

People used to create websites left and right for their own needs, their little shops and their little blogs about what they liked. Some websites of course housing horrible content since their dawn, and some being as mundane but as unique as the person behind its code. I have seen older sites, archived, that promoted creating your own site, and that was interesting to see. That culture of creating your own website and of sharing that knowledge on a still-growing facet of communication.

And then at some point social media appeared, and that was interesting, because now everyone was able to quickly present themselves without the need of a website, but that didn't mean people stopped making websites. I mean, hell, Geocities died in 2009, so a lot of people were creating their own websites for free before that time, no need to pay for domain names or hosting. And even without Geocities, there were other website hosting things that yes, while not as customizable, were still a resource for people to work with them. There's still a website floating around that I made when I was a kid using one of these services. Cool stuff.

All this to say that I do feel a weird sense of dread looking back and cross-referencing with the present and seeing things like "website creator powered by AI" and shit like that, because just ?? How did it go plummeting so quickly. There is a weird feeling of having lost a developing culture to corporations making quick access to posting things that, as corporations' nature dictates, are used to sell data or to train models or what have you. Similarly, we get pretty same-y looking pages because of the need to be slick or whatever with designs that just leaves everything looking the same. ALSO, the loss of spaces for kids, or just the gradual lowering of them in favor of cocomelons and whatever else the devil's machine has spawned is like watching an apple decay before having ripened. I do feel like there is this phenomenon in which how to make a site has been lost in the notion of "making a website falls into the realm of evil and scary coding and I could never be a programmer, plus who would look at it, plus we have tools to make them," etc etc etc. Here is a little secret: website creation is not exactly hard to pick up at all. You might say it's very similar to using a rich text editor like Word or a notes app or whatever you use. Similarly, have you used markdown for things like messages or D iscord messages, you know, with the asterisks for bold text and the likes? Markdown is based on html's structures. And truly, you do not have to even learn to code using Javascript if you don't want to, you can just go full html + css and structure your things as you go, adding your little images and your updates. Because guess what !! Html and css are not programming languages, they're a markup language and a stylesheet language respectively, which is a fancy way to say "you make the structure of your page with the first one and make it pretty with the second one". This includes cool stuff like tables, lists, grids, colors, transitions, etc. All of that without any programming. (That being said, if you are interested in programming, Javascript isn't too bad to pick up. The language itself *is* kind of evil, but using it in conjunction with html is not too difficult). I do have to say though, I am glad that there is a push to making your own websites and things, especially with Neocities sprawling a huge community of avid website creators, as well as the huge amount of tutorials and stuff making the push forward with making sites and online spaces and experiences more widely available. Hopefully this becomes a trend that keeps going up, considering the state of seemingly every single social media that has existed since the 2000s- 2010s.

[syndullqs]

𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 — 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉

summary — you struggle with ADHD and your friends help you manage it.

warnings — gn!reader, reader has ADHD, fluff

requested by — @juliajempire

note — although ADHD varies per person, i will try my best to represent it accurately here!

𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒. the bad batch wasn’t aware of your ADHD when they met you, and the first thing they picked up on was your forgetfulness. as they continued to get to know you, they began to realize that you never meant to forget things. they also learned it wasn’t just forgetting things.

“please remember what we need from the market,” tech reminded you before you stepped off the marauder. you knew you’d forget something, so you backtracked.

you grabbed a datapad and plugged in all that you needed, and checking it back over with tech, who would remind you of the one thing you missed.

“thanks, i’ll be back soon!” you called to the batch. omega decided to accompany you, keeping you company (and on track.)

—

as you and omega walked through the markets, your eyes were lingering on things you didn’t need. you were also captivated by the people there, the colors and the scent of various foods. you didn’t know omega was talking to you until she poked your arm.

“sorry, what?”

“we passed up the tools,” omega reminded with a smile. she never held it against you when you got in your head, not to mention multitasking wasn’t your strong suit.

“oh, right,” so, you circled back to grab the wrench tech said he needed. every now and then the guilt would sleep back in, the mental punch whenever you’d forget something. no one ever made you feel that way, but it was a reaction you couldn’t exactly stifle.

you and omega made your way back to the marauder, everything you needed in-hand. every now and then you’d need to double back and grab something, but having omega there helped. she never once made you feel rushed or stupid, which helped you focus. people’s support always helped you dial in just a little bit more.

“i see you remembered everything,” tech observed as you slid the box of stuff across a counter. you offered him a proud smile before walking off, sitting down towards the back of the marauder. you took a seat, picking up the book that you started earlier, but only got a couple chapters into.

“y/n?” you heard sergeant hunter call, making you look up from your book.

“yeah?”

“have you eaten today?” he asked you. you thought for a moment; had you?

“if you’ve had to think about it, that’s a no,” hunter chuckled, your cheeks flushing a bright red. your eyes turned back to your book, trying to create the world in words in your head. you almost didn’t hear the plate clatter in front of you, your mind consumed with the world that the author so brilliantly created.

“y/n,” hunter tapped the table your plate was on, bringing you out of your trance.

“oh! thanks,” you smiled, placing a bookmark in your book and closing it. you bit into your meal, your stomach thanking you for remembering, even if hunter did the leg work.

~~

it was later that evening, after everyone had gone to bed, and you were still up. you were sat outside, hoping the serenity of the evening would lull you to sleep. you didn’t always have issues falling asleep, but tonight, for some reason, your mind was too full. every now and then, your mind would be overstimulating just by working too much. it was ironic that your own thoughts drove you crazy.

“can’t sleep?” came a voice, interrupting the tangles of thoughts in your head.

“neither can you obviously,” y/n turned back to see echo take a seat next to you. you were able to sit with him in a comfortable silence as your mind raged against you.

“what’s going on?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the sky.

“can’t get my thoughts in order,”

“isn’t that always the case?” it was both a genuine question and a joke. you smiled.

“yeah, but they’re too loud. i’m thinking a million different things at the same time and they can’t stay quiet enough for me to sleep,” you explained. you weren’t sure if that was an ADHD thing or something else, but whatever it was, it annoyed the hell out of you.

“i’m sorry,”

“it’s ok,” silence came over both of you, and it was comfortable. for once, the thoughts in your mind quieted, and you felt your body start to relax. before you knew it, your head dropped onto echo’s shoulder, your soft snores filling his head. although he wasn’t used to your head on his shoulder, he welcomed it.

“sweet dreams,”

@juliajempire love, i am so sorry this took me so long. i hope that this is what you had in mind and if not, i hope you enjoyed still! pls forgive me for the delay! i hope all is well!

[birdylion]

coordinating helpers in first aid / CPR situations

** Disclaimer 1, I'm not a professional. I'm a layperson who's passionate about first aid and has been learning about cooperation in first aid situations. If any professional here has corrections to this, please add them. **

** Disclaimer 2, this can in no way be a full instruction for CPR itself. You have to learn and practice that in a class.**

In the First Aid classes I know, it is assumed that you are alone when someone goes into cardiac arrest or you find an unconscious person who needs CPR. That's because they want to train you to be able to do it when you are alone. But often, you aren't. You're on the bus, at the table with friends, or at work. In these classes, that's brushed aside with "make use of others and delegate tasks". But what does that mean, actually? Let's break that down.

When you're alone, the steps when you find an unconscious person are: 1. Talk to them, touch them, see if the react. If no: 2. Lay them down on a flat and hard surface, overflex their head (this frees the airway, which is otherwise blocked by the tongue) and hold your cheek over their mouth and nose for 6-10 seconds - do you hear & feel normal breathing? And watch their torso from this position, does it move when they breathe? If not, they need CPR. ¹ Time is of the essence here, and every minute counts! 3. Call for help around you, 4. Call an emergengy service, (4b. If you happen to have an AED really close by, grab it and follow its instructions) 5. start CPR and don't stop until the paramedics tell you to². To do that, you remove any clothing over the breast bone, and start the compressions. The recommended rhythm is 30 compressions, and then 2 mouth-to-mouth respirations. ³ And so on.

(¹ Current guidelines where I am don't recommend checking for a pulse.

² or the situation is too dangerous for you to keep going, or you and everyone else are physically completely exhaused

³ For those you again have to overextend the head. if the air doesn't go through on the first one, check again that the neck is extended back. If it doesn't go through then, go back to the chest compressions. Seriously. They are more important than the breathing.)

You can do some of these steps together – you can put your phone on speaker and make the call while you remove the clothing and start the compressions. But all in all, it's one step after the other, and you have to do everything ... or is it?

That's all assuming no one helps you. But what if they do?

Let's assume you are with others when someone goes into cardiac arrest. The key thing now is: All the tasks listed above still have to be done, but others can do stuff too, and more. It's just that someone needs to keep them in mind and make sure they get done.

How you go about that depends on who's with you, and how well you know their first aid and other skills.

/1. Check the breathing like described above. From the moment you know they need CPR, you say it out loud, and start removing the clothing. While you do that: Ask who knows how to do CPR, if you don't know already. Keep as many of those people around you as you can spare. You're going to need their help soon.

If someone knows how to do it, tell them to start. You will now stay close, but handle the organisational part. If the others aren't sure how it works, and you are, then you start the compressions. (Seeing you do it might remind them how it goes if they learned it years ago, and they can take over from you later.)

Starting CPR has the highest urgency right now: the heart isn't pumping blood anymore, so the brain doesn't get oxygen, and will start taking damage very soon. The compressions are a manual pump that helps move the blood and its oxygen, so the brain doesn't die. They don't restart the heart, they just make sure that the brain is still able to work once the heart is beating again. This is also why you never stop the compression-respiration-cycle. The moment you stop is the moment the timer for when the brain starts dying resets again.

If no one else takes control of the organisational part, you do that too:

/2. You tell someone to call the emergency service, and then to report back to you. Preferably someone who can tell them exactly where you are, and how to get there if that's not obvious. This is the next highest priority. It's actually the most important thing, because it's the most reliable way to actually save your patients life. If you're not doing compressions, you can make the phone call yourself.

The few seconds it takes to start CPR won't hold up the paramedics much, but they can make a difference for the brain, that's why you can start pumping first when you have enough people that someone else makes the call.

/3. If you have another person to spare, ask them to check if there's an AED nearby somewhere⁴. If you remember the location of an AED that's close, then tell the person where to get it. They're getting more common and often can be found in public areas, on official buildings, ... If there's one, ask the physically fittest and most able person to hurry (without endangering themselves) and retrieve it. During the time before the doctor arrives, an automatic external defibrilator is the only thing that might restart your patient's heart, and you want that as early as possible, because the chances that it actually does that get slimmer as time passes.

⁴ there are ways to check online, such as https://openaedmap.org They might not be complete, but better than nothing. Depending on your country there might be other pages and tools to check.

Once these two things are done, you have done everything you can at the moment to make sure effective help is on the way. Remember that you or someone else kept up the chest compressions during all of that. If you have a helper for it, now is the time to organise yourself so that you can keep up the CPR for as long as it needs.

It's best if you're at least two people for that: one does the compressions, one the breathing. The one who does the chest compressions counts in their head, and say the last few numbers out loud. For example "20 ... 25, 6, 7, 8, 9, 30" so the other person knows when to do the rescue breaths.

Doing chest compressions is tiring. If you're exhausted, you may lack the strength and endurance to do the compressions as deep as necessary in the right rhythm, and that means reduced (or no) blood flow, which means brain damage. So you take turns in doing the compressions so that no one is at it for too long. You usually switch after 5 cycles (2.5 minutes): the one who does the compressions then moves to do the breaths as well, and during that, the one who did the rescue breathing before (and has already moved to the side of the patient during the last cycle of chest compressions) now brings themself into position for the compressions, so that they can resume them immediately after the 2 breaths.

Once the phone call to emergency services is made, you have one person who's again free to do something. They can join the CPR (more people = you can keep it up longer), they can find other helpers and instruct them to lead the paramedics to where you are (especially if that's not obvious, like you're in a big building with lots of corridors, or on a path you can't see from the street, etc), or do that themselves. Especially when there's multiple ways to get where you are, and you have enough people, it's useful to put one at each possible avenue of approach. Paramedics can lose valuable minutes if they don't find your location. Also keep your phone close by, the emergency dispatcher might call you back with questions. Other things to organise and delegate: if the patient has relatives/friends close by who'd be in need of psychological support, ask a bystander to take care of them.

By now, someone might have brought an AED. They can open it and follow the instructions: they will put the electrodes on the body while the people doing CPR continue to do that. So there's now 2-3 people on the patient, and 1 organising how to get the professionals to your location as fast as possible.

The AED measure the heart rhythm. In some cases of cardiac arrest, there's an electrical signal in the heart that is not a heartbeat. What an electrical shock does is stop this signal, so there will first be a flatline, and over the next minute or two, the heart will try to find its rhythm again. That means: when the AED tells you that a shock is recommended, the person operating it makes sure nobody is touching the patient by telling everybody to keep away, checking visually, and then say "shock" and press the button. The device will also say out loud when it gives the shock. Now, the heart still doesn't beat, so the moment after the electrical shock, one of the helpers starts the chest compressions again. After 2.5 minutes (5 cycles), the device tells everybody to stop touching the patient again, and measures the heart rhythm again. That would be a good time to switch positions, so that someone fresh can do the chest compressions. You then use every one of these 'breaks' to cycle through the positions. That way, you all can keep it up for longer, because you have breaks in between.

Depending on where you are, it might take some time for the paramedics and emergency doctor to arrive. Now, the one who did the phone call and other organising has work to do again: to bring them to the scene, and brief the doctor what happened. They'll mostly want to know how long the CPR has been going on, and if you use an AED, if and how many shocks were administered. If they need / want more information, they'll ask for it.

Now, the patient is out of your hands. The paramedics will take over the CPR for you, and an emergency doctor may administer adrenaline, and they'll get the patient to the next hospital as quickly as possible.

Clean-up of the scene may vary depending on the situation and probably on the country, so I won't say more about it. In any case, make sure to check in with everyone who helped you. Are they okay? Do they want support? It's not your job to give that, but it doesn't hurt to ask, or to thank them for their help.

[lutiaslayton]

Hello! You seem to be knowledgeable about Japan-exclusive Layton stuff so I wanted to ask if you knew how many chapters were there in Mansion Of The Deathly Mirror? I tried to look it up myself but I couldn't find an actual answer

Thank you for all your translations btw I really appreciate them!

Hi, and thanks! <3 There are six chapters in total. For more info, I will simply give you (and anyone else who reads this) a Reddit post:

This post explains everything we know about Mansion of the Deathly Mirror and how to deal with the fact that this game is lost media.

That link aside, I have a transcript planned for Mansion of the Deathly Mirror just like I did with Chelmey's Casebook and London Holiday, but I don't even have the full first chapter completed yet, so I'll have to catch up whenever I have the time and materials to do so. I haven't had the time to work on it in many months, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about it and I WILL make a better, FULL version of the translation, as soon as I can get to it (but right now I'm kinda supposed to be preparing for my PhD defence hahahahaha).

Now for some ramblings related to the above-linked Reddit post. Long story short: we have chances of securing the game. But for that to happen, we need to be patient, and we need to be silent. If you ever find footage of the game on youtube or elsewhere, no matter what you do, leave the player alone.

Let them upload at their pace and gather the crumbs as they fall off the table, because asking for them to let you eat the whole cake has never worked in the past. By that I mean: asking someone who owns the game "hey can I see your cool shiny thing asap plz plz plz" will result in that person blocking you, no longer posting any footage or content related to that cool shiny thing, and possibly disappearing off the face of the entire internet forever. I am neither joking, nor exaggerating.

I'm not talking that much about MotDM because we don't want to get too much attention drawn to it for the time being. But don't worry, if this game ever is found (and we have a whole team searching for it, we're just secretive on purpose -- for the reasons I mentioned here and for those that are explained in more detail in the Reddit post), we WILL make sure that the fandom knows about it. It's mostly just that right now, the only person we know who has the game and is somewhat willing to make a playthrough does not want any unwanted attention, and this person is not a friend of ours. They will stop uploading if people ask for them to upload faster, and they already threatened once to delete all their videos when someone asked them if they could "share the ROM." (No. No they won't. And even if they were willing to, we can't even make anything out of a ROM yet because of the hardware being stupidly complicated anyway.)

---

So there you have it -- your answer is "6," and I could have left it at that because I have no strict obligation to say anything more since you didn't ask for any other info haha.

Unless you want to dive into this endless rabbit hole, I highly suggest you just keep that answer, leave it at that for now, and go about your day minding literally anything else. We will get back to you and the rest of the fandom once we have real news about it! It's just that for now we're all stuck in limbo hahaha, there's some stuff done in the shadows but nothing worth hyping about until we're done with it. I mean -- we can't do anything until the one (1) person who owns the game decides to upload more footage of it. Given how desperately lost this game is, we should actually be happy we get to have anything at all, even if even NWoS might come out before it.

[EDIT] Needless to say, the player who is sharing some gameplay footage does NOT know that I have a website with the beginning of a fan-translation, and if they learn even so little that it exists, they are going to have a heart attack and will likely delete their entire playthrough. And nobody wants that.

I personally won't celebrate and heave a real breath of relief before footage of the full game from start to finish with as much content as possible is secured, which is why I don't talk about it a lot. I'm just paranoid that something might go wrong like it already has multiple times in the past hahaha

---

DO NOT show my website link around at random until I say it's ok to do so. And if you share it with friends, ALWAYS mention that I am the one running it. That way if you or your friends have questions, you know who to ask for explanations.

[solitaireships]

Cultural Reconnection

Happy Lunar New Year! To celebrate, I wanted to do a little selfship fic, and I decided with this one to do a modern AU focused on Helena and Chae-Yeong, partially bcs they have the same backgrounds as me with that so I know a little more about Seollal (Korean new year) things from my irl attempts to connect more with my culture

Full disclosure here, like Helena and Chae-Yeong, a lot of what I know about Seollal celebrations are things that I have recently taught myself from doing research online. This may not be a 100% accurate with how things are celebrated, and if it's not, I would appreciate anyone who knows more giving feedback! While it won't change things with this fic, bcs they also are still learning how to celebrate this properly, it'd help me out with my future LNY celebrations

Rating: Gen

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2325 words

Divider by saradika

Helena doesn’t cook very often. It’s not that she’s a bad cook, but with her and Chae-Yeong both hating being in the kitchen with other people, Chae-Yeong tends to be the one to make dinner more often than not. Helena figures that with how much food they’ll need for tonight’s Seollal celebrations, though, she could handle the majority of the cooking. 

As she cooks, Helena’s in new hanbok that Chae-Yeong had bought for this. She’s had to be careful with it— the last thing she wants to do is stain the light green and pink fabric making up the layers of her clothes. Her hanbok’s chima is longer than any of the dresses or skirts she usually wears, but she likes the way it moves around her as she walks around the kitchen.

In some ways it feels like she’s not supposed to be wearing this— her grandmother never passed on much information about Korean culture to Helena or her mother beyond the food. But she’s worn hanbok before, and she reminds herself that this is a part of her culture, even if it’s something she grew up disconnected from. 

It helps that Chae-Yeong’s in a similar boat to Helena. Both of them are a quarter Korean, both of them didn’t get many cultural things passed down to them, and both of them look white. Helena is used to feeling out of place everywhere she goes, never really feeling like she belongs to any community fully. But with Chae-Yeong, she actually feels like she’s not alone. 

Trying to fill the many gaps in her knowledge of Korean culture is more fun with Chae-Yeong, though. That’s another thing that makes Helena feel less alone, less like she’s an imposter and doesn’t really count as Korean. And as Helena finishes up making their rice cake soup hopes that she’s able to make Chae-Yeong feel the same way. 

“The soup is done, starlight!” Helena calls. 

“Smells good,” Chae-Yeong says, coming into the kitchen with a bottle of sparkling cider in hand. She looks pretty in hanbok— she's dressed in has a bright red skirt and a black jeogori. The silver and pink norigae she’s wearing is a nice touch too with its butterfly charm, standing out from the rest of the outfit.

Helena thinks this look suits her well. Her hanbok even matches with the red and black paint along her prosthetic arm and leg. It seems to match her perfectly, and is a good reminder to Helena of just how pretty her wife is. 

“Thanks,” Helena says. “Did you get the rest of the table set up?”

“Mhm.” Chae-Yeong sets the bottle down on the counter, digging through their drawers to find a bottle opener. “We’ll just need to get the last of the hot stuff plated, then everything will be ready.”

Helena turns off the stovetop. “Great. I’m hungry after cooking all day.”

“I’m sure it’ll all taste amazing, yeobo,” Chae-Yeong says. “Do you want me to help plate stuff?”

“If it won’t make you annoyed,” Helena replies, half teasing. 

Chae-Yeong rolls her eyes but smiles. “Putting food on plates and cooking are too different things. And it’s not like you’re better.”

“I’m not. But it’s always good to be safe, you can get scary when you feel like it.”

“I don’t get scary.”

“Yeah, you do.” Helena nudges Chae-Yeong’s side as she walks past with a plate of bulgogi. “You look pretty like that, though.”

Chae-Yeong laughs, pausing the process of scooping some rice from their rice cooker to look at Helena. “You’re the only person in the world who could think I’m attractive when I’m mad.”

“Mhm, which is part of why I’m very lucky to have married you,” Helena says. 

Chae-Yeong gives her one last little affectionate look before they both go back to plating their food. It’s a lot of work to do, but between the two of them, they’re able to get the job done quickly. Helena switches to bringing plates over to the table, doing what she can to remember where everything is supposed to be placed.

This isn’t like her and Chae-Yeong’s normal dinner arrangements. They have food set up practically covering every inch of it. At one end of the table is a collection of fruits such as Asian pears and apples, with a row of vegetables set up on plates behind it. The third row at the back of the table is where they set up their bowls of rice along with plates full of japchae and bulgogi. There’s a spot near the middle of that back row for the rice cake soup which Chae-Yeong brings in in two large bowls. Behind the table is a folding paper screen, one set up there especially for today. They’ve also set up a candle on either side of the table’s middle row, which Helena lights as she waits for Chae-Yeong.

It’s a lot of food for the two of them to eat. Far more than they’d usually prepare. Helena’s never been a big eater, and just looking at everything laid out in front of them is almost intimidating. 

The food isn’t all for them, though. This year they’re trying something new. A part of Seollal is honoring ancestors with charye rites, and this year they’ll be making their first attempt at performing that. 

Preparing an offering table was Helena’s idea. She wasn’t sure how Chae-Yeong would feel about it. Chae-Yeong’s relationship with her family was never a good one, and if she didn’t want to be part of the charye rites, Helena would have understood. Only Chae-Yeong’s biological father even seemed remotely worth honoring. Maybe none of Helena’s ancestors are either— her relationship with her maternal grandparents had been tense for years, and she doesn’t know much about any of her relatives beyond her grandparents. 

But this is something that’s part of most celebrations of Seollal, and Helena wants to try this at least once. Chae-Yeong agreed to this too, and if nothing else Helena will be glad that she gets to do this with her wife. They had to make some substitutions, though— Helena read that alcohol is usually offered to ancestors, but neither of them drink so instead they opted for a sparkling cider. Incense is also used for charye rites too, but the smell makes Helena feel sick so instead they have a reed diffuser set up on the table by the vegetables. 

“Are you ready to do the honors?” Helena asks as Chae-Yeong comes to rest her head on her shoulder.

“If you are,” Chae-Yeong says. “I’m still not sure I’m the best one to be handling this, though. There wasn’t a ton of information about what I’m supposed to be doing online.”

“You’ll do great,” Helena promises, reaching back to give her wife’s hip a quick squeeze.

Chae-Yeong takes a deep breath. It’s rare that she’s ever nervous, but that she’s clearly worried about this is a sign of just how much it matters to her. This is a part of her culture too, a part that neither of them are experienced with. They both want to get this right. 

Knowing Helena’s not alone in this is nice. 

But it’s also nice seeing the way any nerves fade away as Chae-Yeong begins performing the charye rites. She pulls a piece of prayer written in Korean from one of the pockets built into her skirt, placing it on the table before calling out towards their ancestors in a greeting, welcoming them to the table. She’s always been good at coming off as confident even when she’s new to something, and she looks like she’s done this a thousand times as she pours a cup of sparkling cider as an offering. She places a pair of chopsticks on the plate of bulgogi and leaves a spoon in one of the rice bowls. 

Chae-Yeong moves to move the paper screen, unfolding it more so it hides the table from view. Her skirts rustle around her as she makes her way back to Helena. 

“Alright, we’ll have to step out for a bit now,” Chae-Yeong says.

Helena nods and lets her wife lead the way out of the dining room and into their living room.

“Are we supposed to just sit in silence while the ancestors eat?” Helena asks as she closes the door behind her.

“I don’t know, I couldn’t find anything about that when I was figuring this out,” Chae-Yeong admits. She takes a seat on the couch. “I’d say we try to be quiet just to be safe. That feels more ceremonial.”

“Okay.”

Helena sits down next to Chae-Yeong. She doesn’t usually like sitting around in silence for a long time— her mind wanders easily, and usually it wanders towards rumination and everything in her life that’s stressing her out. But with Lunar New Year on her mind, she finds her thoughts going to better things for once.

She wonders what her great-grandparents would have thought of her and Chae-Yeong. She never met them, and she never heard stories about them either. There are no puzzle pieces for her to put together, there’s no story she can create from scraps of information. Most of her family tree is a mystery to her even as she honors them. 

But Chae-Yeong’s not a mystery at all. Helena knows how to read her unlike anyone else, knows every single one of her little quirks by heart. She’s someone who makes sense, and Helena’s always grateful for their similarities. She makes life so much better for her, and she hopes that regardless of who her great-grandparents or even her great-great-grandparents were, they’d at least be proud of her for finding someone she can be herself around. Maybe they’d be proud of her for reconnecting with her roots, for trying to follow cultural traditions even if it took her a long time to do so. 

Family is weird, and it’s complicated, but Helena hopes that there’d be someone in Chae-Yeong’s family that’s happy for her too. And if no one else is, then Helena will be proud of her for them. 

The five minutes they’re away from the dining room pass quickly. Chae-Yeong’s leg brushes against Helena, getting past her skirt so that she can feel the plastic of her prosthetic foot brushing against Helena’s lower leg. 

Chae-Yeong breaks the silence with a cough. “We’re good to head back in.”

Helena gets up first, waiting a second for Chae-Yeong to get up after her. She stretches as she gets up, making a soft grunting noise.

Nothing’s different as the two of them make it back into the dining room, though Helena feels like it should be. She hopes that this is what they’re supposed to be doing, as Chae-Yeong makes her way to the table again. She moves to put the folding screen back in its original position, revealing the table again. She goes to take the chopsticks from the bulgogi, then the spoon from the rice bowl.

“We’re supposed to bow four times now,” Chae-Yeong says as she rejoins Helena. “It’ll help send the ancestors back to the spirit world.”

Helena hums in response, taking four deep bows along with Chae-Yeong. She hopes that if anyone is watching from the other side, they appreciate the food she and Chae-Yeong prepared for them. 

Chae-Yeong strides over to the table again, now taking the written prayer from it and burning it over the candle. The ashes fall down onto the table, and Helena notes that next year they should use a tablecloth. 

“Okay,” Chae-Yeong says. “Since we don’t have any ritual things outside of that prayer, I think that’s about it aside from eumbok.”

“Great,” Helena says. Now it’s her turn to step up to the table.

It’s hard to say if that’s what the ceremony was supposed to be like when she has no frame of reference for it. Now that it’s over, she can’t help but worry that they did this wrong. She heard that people usually eat dried fish for Seollal— they didn’t have any of that, maybe that means the food offerings aren’t right. And they might not have done the ceremony itself right either, it was hard trying to find resources online about how to do this. She knows that she’s probably being irrational, and she’s probably holding herself to too high standards, but worry still eats at her. 

“I think we might be doing this wrong,” Helena says, frowning down at the table. 

“Maybe,” Chae-Yeong replies. Her arms wrap around Helena’s waist as she hugs her from behind. “But I like trying this with you.”

Helena can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah. I like it too.”

It’s not perfect. Helena knows it never will be, no matter how much she wishes she could push everything into place. But she thinks she can be content with imperfection if Chae-Yeong is. 

So she leans back to give Chae-Yeong a quick kiss on the cheek.

“How about we go ahead and eat, then?” she suggests.

“Sounds good.”

As they sit down at a corner of the table, Helena looks at all of the food laid out before them. It’s impressive to think about how much they managed to make in one day, and even if things aren’t perfect, Helena thinks now that she’s happy with how things turned out. They’re definitely going to have a lot to eat, though, and she’s sure they’ll be eating leftovers for a long time after this. 

Helena takes a slice of Asian pear, offering it to Chae-Yeong. She takes it between her teeth, biting off a piece with an affectionate look at Helena. 

She’s lucky to be going into this new year with Chae-Yeong. Everyday with her is a gift. And Helena hopes that when they eat their rice cake soup, symbolizing growing a year older with the lunar new year, this will be one of many more years spent together.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-02-26

Critical vegetable issue (ran out of spicy chilies and my farmers market still hasn't reopened)

Listening: A Lunch Between Order and Chaos, an avant-garde strings album by a bunch of people. Here's "Unison"

Do you like songs that sound like they go on forever? Do you like songs that make you think of the formal descriptions of impressionist art? Do you like someone who is very good at the violin playing some shit that you would never think to play on the violin? Well I have an album for you.

Watching: Some more Gundam, also, I have to link the Friends at the Table stream vods for Keith and Jack playing Crusader Kings 3.

Obsessed. I think I might understand Crusader Kings now.

Reading: Bah, bad week. Rifling through my short sci-fi story collections but nothing that caught my eye. I need to get something new from my kobo wishlist.

Playing: No dark souls, amazingly! I fell into an Inscryption hole playing Kaycee's mod. It took a while to get back into it but I finally got a full clear. I got an ouroboros and the necessary cards to do an infinite boost on the ouroboros damage, where you sacrifice it over and over. Learning a lot of things about how to play Inscryption that I never picked up in the main game, I deeply undervalued black goats and beehives before.

Making: Spent a LOT of time on the NAS case. Had to babysit the printer over a couple days to get the print through, mostly without incident except for the one time it popped off the plate and crashed the printhead a few hours into a print. Sorted out bed heating and insulation and now it's fine.

That is coming along, doing a lot of reading on painting and also a brief detour into composite skinning because I considered that. Not doing that but there's a local company that makes a heat-resistant PLA that I might use to try and do composite skinning projects.

Designs for the NAS are basically done. I might do a different top cap but for now reusing the same cap on the top and bottom is probably fine. This is false-colour for clarity, it's all black PETG (although the caps might be PLA. I'll see.)

Now it's a matter of printing final parts, sanding, painting, and making sure I have all the fasteners I need for said things.

Tools and Equipment: I have a set of culinary long tweezers that I keep around ostensibly for microscopy shit and I am constantly using them for everything. Grabbing stuff that falls under couches, detaching plastic from printbeds, extending my reach by a few centimeters, yanking on jammed needles in quilting. Really quite useful.