#...we’re just people like it’s not... it’s not that inconvenient or dramatic :
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hotel room | H.S
summary: harry & Y/N are friends but it’s a love hate relationship with so much tension you can hardly breathe. this tension isn’t any better when they get stuck in a hotel room together for the night. and it only has one bed.
warnings: SMUT! hand job (f+m receiving), PIV unprotected, sloppy morning sex, teasing, swearing, praise, friends to lovers.
A/N:I have opened my requests! and I’d love to write some from you guys, so send them in here <3
———
“So there’s only… definitely only one room for us?” I say slowly, and the lady behind the counter nods.
“Y/N,” Harry says, “we’ve shared a room before—“
“I’m so sorry the inconvenience— Since the multitude of delayed flights from the storm we’ve had an unexpected influx of last-minute bookings…” her hands are zipping along the keyboard as she is clearly under the pump.
“You’ve been booked under a single room.” She glances up, face turned up apologetically, confirming.
I nod, knowing there’s so many other people needing somewhere to stay right now, there’s no point being picky.
It’s just one night.
Because Harry and I live in the same part of the UK, we usually catch the same planes to and from when we get short breaks from touring with the band.
So of course we flew out for our Australian leg of the tour several hours ago and got stuck at our layover destination, Abu Dhabi.
The storm rolled in quick, putting hour— even day long— delays on flights. So now people are scrambling to book hotels for the next few nights.
Luckily our management got on it as soon as we’d called them about the delay of out flight, but I suppose they only could get us the one room for two.
We get our room key and head up the elevator to the 7th floor.
When we walk into the room there is a single queen bed in the centre of it, and I glance at Harry out the corner of my eye. We are always close to one another being in the band, but never “share a bed” close.
“Don’t stress.” He says.
“I’m not stressed.” I quip.
“Yes you are, don’t try and bullshit me.”
“Harry, we’re adults it’s fine.”
“Hardly adults.” He chuckles.
I scoff at his constant digs, there is a fineline of how much Harry I can tolerate in a day and we are really pushing it.
“Well if you think that then I implore you to take the couch.” I know just by looking at the couch he’d hardly fit on it, and I’m not that much of an asshole to let that happen.
“Oooh, you’re just trying t’get the bed all to yourself? Bloody bed hog.”
I open my bag up, pulling out fresh clothes and my toiletries, “Was just providing you the options. I’m going to shower.”
“Too bad if I wanted one first.” He sighs dramatically, with a little smirk that usually indicates he’s teasing.
“Too bad indeed.” I smile sarcastically at him as I shut the door.
It’s so nice to wash away the gross feeling that sticks to your skin after long flights like we just had.
When I come out of the bathroom he’s laying in the bed, crisp white doona pulled back.
“Dude you’re getting airport germs in the bed.”
He glances up from his phone, eyeing me for a split second— I’m just in sleep shorts and a plain tshirt.
“It’s fine, I’ll just have this side.” He replies, a smile breaking out over his face.
He leaves me no room to respond as he stands up, “im gonna have a shower as well, and then we can order room service, how’s that sound?”
I nod, “I’ll get the menu and have a read through.”
It’s weird how we one minute can’t stop sarcastically niggling and the next we’re back to being normal friends.
I browse through their relatively large menu as the shower runs in the background. If I strain, I can hear Harry gently humming.
I’m happy to see my favourite foods on there… and heaps of deserts.
He comes out shortly after while I’m still reading the menu, and he’s clad in only grey sweatpants, adorning damp hair.
I choose to tear my eyes away from his bare chest, “I’ve figured out what I want to get, have a read through.”
I chucked him the menu and he comes to sit down next to me on the bed.
Im surprised we don’t end up in another debate about the sleeping arrangements, but I think we’re both so exhausted from the flight. The 8 hour plane trip settling deep into our bones.
“They have y’favourite.” He says with a smile playing on his lips.
“Yea, I’m so glad. It’s all I’m craving right now.”
“What are you gonna get?” I lean to look over his shoulder at the menu.
“Maybe I’ll try their tacos?”
“I’m gonna order some of the desert stuff too.”
“Y’gonna be so full.” He laughs.
“It’ll be worth it.” I say, as I stand up to go over to the phone on the desk in the corner of the room.
I ring up and order an unnecessary amount of stuff before giving them our room number and hoping back into bed.
It’s so cozy, and if it weren’t for the food I knew was coming, I’d probably curl up and fall asleep straight away.
We lay together, talking about the plan for the next few days until the food gets delivered with a knock on the door.
I get up to open it, taking the trays of food from the kind waiter.
He groans, “God it smells good.”
We both spread the dishes of food on the bed and quickly start eating.
The TV starts playing reruns of friends, the episode where Ross makes the paste with his leather pants, trying to get them up.
We’re both tearing up with laughter, stuffing our faces with our first proper meal since dinner on the plane over 5 hours ago.
“Holy shit.” He says, and we’re are letting out fits of giggles, as Ross says “—and the lotion and the powder have made a paste…”
“I swear— why did he listen to joey.” I scoff, shoving a bite of food into my mouth.
“No, because the way it just keeps getting worse.” He buries his face into his hands with a pained grin.
We watch a few of the episodes that were playing, sharing the last of the chocolate cookies that I’d ordered.
I stood up to move all the trays our food came on over to the small kitchen bench, leaving them for the morning.
“That was so yum.” I sigh out, content and full.
I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and finish up my night routine, ready to honestly just go to sleep.
I come out with a small smile on my lips, excited to get back into bed where it’s cozy. Slipping back under the crisp white sheets, Harry turns off the TV.
The room is now dark, “fuck… can’t see now— I gotta brush m’teeth as well.”
“Have my phone.” I chuck it in his general direction, and clonk him straight in the side.
“Ouch.” He huffs, grabbing it and turning the flash on.
He pads over to the bathroom while I roll my eyes at how dramatic he is.
He turns the lights on in there, coming back over to give me my phone now that he can see.
I text a few of my immediate family members to let them know we’d settled into our hotel, choosing to leave out the fact we’re sharing a bed.
I mean assuming that’s what the plan is. I highly doubt he wants to sleep on the couch.
Being the only female in a band of boys leads to lots of assumptions throughout my family unit. Especially with Harry.
They mistake our arguments as ‘pent-up sexual frustration’. Which is far from how I like to think of it.
He steps out from the bathroom, and I turn my torch on so he can flick the light off.
He scrapes a hand over his face, looking to me with tired eyes.
The hotel was relatively quiet now, only a few drunken laughs echoing down the hallway as it nears 12am.
He climbs back into the bed, pulling the covers over himself.
I tug my pillow down a bit before turning off my flash.
“Y’tired?” He asks quietly, sounding already kind of groggy.
I hum in agreement, rolling to face him. It’s quiet a few beats.
I can just make out his outline next to me,
I can feel the warmth of his body from where I’m laying. And it feels like I’m being enveloped by it in a strange— yet lovely way.
The thought floats around in my head, images conjuring from the darkness.
I blame this on the 8 hour flight and sleep deprivation.
Usually I can ignore it, but as much as he’s a proper pain in the ass sometimes, I’d have to be visually impaired to say he wasn’t good looking.
And hell he’s laying in the same bed as me without a shirt on.
“Y’staring at me.” He chuckles softly, and I startle a little.
“How can you even see me?” I ask, amused.
“I can’t, can just feel it.”
“As if you can feel it.” I scoff, “I’ll roll over if my eyes being on you makes you too uncomfortable.”
“No, no, wait come back.” He whines as I start to move.
I huff out a laugh, and roll back over to him.
I keep my eyes shut, “better?”
He whispers a yes, and I smile.
I keep that very smile as I drift off, listening to Harry’s slow breathes from beside me, allowing them to lull me to sleep.
———
I can only half remember waking up.
I was warm, heavy, and I felt his body before I saw it.
My eyes had only opened a tiny bit—there was light creeping through the thin curtains, making his unruly hair just visible.
My leg was thrown over his hip, and I was pressed right into his chest. We were fully intertwined, and fuck did it feel nice.
I close my eyes again, I can feel his morning wood. My heart jumps a little in my chest. Maybe I can just roll over— pretend I didn’t feel it, and go back to sleep.
I carefully strain to make the movement, but I instead get pulled closer to him.
He pushes himself against me, a sigh slipping from his nose, and I realise moving may have been a bad idea.
“Fuck…” I hear him mutter against my hair, bucking his hips up again.
“Harry.” I say, voice croaky with sleep. Of course this does nothing.
I have no idea how awake he is, I’m not even fully awake yet. But Jesus, this feels better than it should.
I feel like a horrific person for enjoying the way his clothed-length is pressed into me. But by god I am not strong enough to remove myself from this situation.
“Harry, wake up.” I groaned, squirming a little in his grasp.
He seems to come to it, just enough to realise whatever the fuck is happening in a couple seconds.
“Y/N…? Fuck. what is—“ I feel his body tense underneath me as it hits him, and he probably feels his boner pressed between my legs.
His hand flys up to my thigh that’s resting on his hip, “Holy shit—“
“It’s fine, H.” I whisper, and I’m not really sure why I say that, or what I’m implying by doing so.
Or what it means paired with the fact I haven’t protested to his dick practically grinding against my cunt.
“What do you mean?” He asks, groggily.
“Not sure.” I confess, whimpering a little as he still is hard underneath me. I push into him a bit out of unspoken desire and I hear him swallow.
He doesn’t say anything as he slides his hand up my leg, cupping it on my ass.
I glance up to see his face, his eyes still half-lidded, and his cheeks have a gentle flush to them.
I feel myself getting wetter as he keeps rubbing himself along my thin sleep shorts.
He moans a bit, and I slip my hand between us to palm his cock through his sweatpants.
“This ok? Want me to help you out a bit?”
“God— yes please…” he groans.
I push it underneath his waistband, tugging him out.
He’s heavy and hot in my hand. Glancing down, its bigger than I expected. The tip is flush and red, glistening with the damp beads of precum. Hardly surprising he’s got such a pretty cock.
“Fuckin’ Christ— look at y’little hand wrapped ‘round me.” He swears.
I slowly squeeze the head of it, and that quickly has him bucking into my palm.
His own hand travels between my sleep shorts, “Mind i return the favour?”
I hum in agreement, but he doesn’t do anything, “Gotta hear you say it, tell me what you want.”
I roll my eyes, of course he’s like this in bed, wants to hear how bad I want him.
“What do you want me to say to you Harry? How bad I want your fingers in my wet cunt right now, or how I want you to fuck my clit with your tongue?”
“Want my tongue do you? Because yes that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.” He says, smirking as he dips his hand under my shorts, running his fingers through me.
“No panties… been next to me all night with your pussy so easily accessible. Such a little slut.”
He collects my arousal, carrying it up to my swollen clit. I moan with the action, trying to keep my hand pumping rhythmically.
This proves to be a challenge, as he’s very clearly skilled with his fingers.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Hardly even touched you.”
“Been grinding your dick into me for a bit, actually.” I hiss as he slips a finger into me.
“Sorry, Baby. Did my hard cock get you all worked up?” He teases, and I hate the fact that he’s right.
I give a particularly hard squeeze and he grunts, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He quickens the pace of his fingers, fucking them in and out of me.
“Hard to hate me when I’m making you feel so good, hm?” He kisses my forehead, curling his fingers in me.
I cry out. Fuck— I was going to come.
“Wait, wait, wait— don’t wanna come yet, please…” I clench my thighs around his hand and it stills.
I look up at him, his green eyes burning with desire.
He doesn’t say anything, just leans his head down and places a wet kiss on my lips.
He keeps his fingers pumping slowly in and out of me as we start to kiss.
He brings me close to coming again a few times, just to tease me, but he keeps his focus on my lips— pulling my bottom one between his and sucking on it.
It’s messy and sloppy, edges of it blurred from the morning haze still over us.
“Harry.” I say into his mouth, legs shaking a little.
“Want you in me.” It comes out of me as an unbridled thought.
“Jesus…” he murmurs, stunned by hearing the words fly out of me so openly.
He pulls his lips away, cock twitching in my hand, “you want…”
“You want me to fuck you?”
I nod, grabbing the hem of my shirt and slipping it off.
He’s enamoured by me, it’s clear in his eyes.
He reaches his hand up, out of my sleep shorts and he cups my breast with it gently.
He moves his mouth down to place gentle kissed over them.
“You’re perfect, yknow that?” He says against my skin, tugging me closer to him as I smile at the flattery.
“I’m on birth control too.” I state.
He glances up, and it appears I’ve shocked him yet again, “you wanna take me raw?”
I haven’t gone without I condom in ages… but I trust him.
“We’re both clean, right? I trust you.”
He smiles, “I’m clean. As long as your sure.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of something.
He pulls my sleep shorts off, and I help shuck his sweats the rest of the way down his legs.
We’re warm between the sheets, and he’s peppering open-mouthed kisses along my neck as he lines himself up with me.
He locks eyes with me as he pushes in, and both of us moan at the feeling.
“Fuck— you’re tight.” He squeezes his hands on my hips.
I am blinded with the pleasure of him filling me up, I can’t even think about how bad an idea this could be.
“Feels so good, H.” I groan, scraping my nails along his chest.
“Can feel you clenching around me.” He reaches a hand down to play with my clit.
He’s gonna make me come embarrassingly quick— especially considering he sort of edged me a bit while we were kissing.
He was thrusting into me, a perfect pace to have me squirming in his arms.
I can tell he’s getting close, my name flying out his mouth paired with vulgar words and moans.
“I- fuck- I’m not gonna be able to drag this out if you keeping squeezing m’cock like that.” He pants.
“I’m close, so just come with me.” I plead, the thought of him finishing with me adding fuel to the fire in the pit of my stomach.
“God H, I’m gonna come— hard.”
“Fuck, sweetheart, keep talking.” He says, his skin slapping into mine, chasing his orgasm.
“You’re so pretty.” I blurt, spewing the first thing that comes to mind as I look at him.
He really is, his hair is tousled from sleep and my hands, his eyes half lidded from pleasure and tattooed chest slightly damp.
He swears, bottoming out and coming hard without warning. His hand circles my clit fast, bringing my crashing down with him.
“Harry!” I cry, burying my head into the crook of his neck as I ride out the waves of pleasure.
“Good girl, Y/N.” He groans, still thrusting into me trying to prolong his orgasms.
The high slowly ebbs away, and he stays in me for a bit. Nothing but the sounds of our laboured breathing filling the room.
I think we don’t know what to say, after something like that happens— when it all comes on instinct and you’re without any clue on what it changes.
Our dynamic, though it was a love-hate kind of thing, it was a consistent one. You knew what to expect. Now that this has happened…
“I have no idea what you’re thinking right now.” He whispers, “and that kind of scares me.”
I lay quietly for a few heartbeats, “just… that was really good. And I’m not 100% prepared for what might happen after this, y’know. To us I guess.”
“Well. To keep it simple, I really like you— and that was some of the best sex I’ve ever had so…” he trails off, unsure where to go with the sentence.
“Ok— so this isn’t gonna ruin our friendship?” I sigh in a bit of relief.
“Of course not,” he pulls back to look at me, and a smile spreads across his face, “after all, we are adults.”
———
#best friend!harry#harry styles smut#best friends to lovers#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#fluff prompts#harry styles fanfiction#fanfiction#one direction#oneshots#1d#harries#love on tour#fbh#frat boy harry#prince hair harry
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Then & Now. ♡
——— ♡ ———
Pairing: Osamu Miya x Reader
Genre: Fluff! Angst if you squint? Maybe? High school sweethearts who reunite as adults. ♡
——— ♡ ———
Growing up, the idea of a first love was embedded into your mind with theatric-like imagery. A dramatic, beautiful first kiss. Loud, screaming arguments over unwarranted jealousy. Passionate, intense declarations of love for the entire world to hear. A love that felt so real it physically hurt. A love that, when it came to it’s inevitable demise, would stick to you for the rest of your life, leaving you wondering “what if…?”.
That’s what you thought, anyway, until you’d experienced it first-hand.
Your relationship with Osamu was nothing like that. In fact, it was almost too easy. A fast forming friendship in your first year blossoming into a romantic relationship as high school seniors. You two just… clicked.
When the two of you made things official, it wasn’t the grand proposal you’d hoped for. Instead, it was Osamu waking up next to you with a sleepy smile and incoming hangover asking you the classic “what are we?”. You simply smiled back, knowing damn well the night before that the liquid courage had run through both of you to the point of confessing your true feelings and realizing they were mutual.
Osamu was comfortable. He was carefree, but not recklessly. He paid attention in school and had priorities, but didn’t let small things bother him. “Don’t worry about it” he’d say, pulling you against him with an arm around your waist. “I’ll take care of it.” “It’s no big deal.” “It’s fine.” “Just leave it to me.”
Dependable, reliable Osamu who always seemed to fix any major or minor inconvenience in your life with a simple solution and saving you from yourself for the zillionth time.
Despite the positives of your relationship, even you couldn’t dodge the cliché “we’re going to different colleges, so let’s break up” trope. You talked it over, mutually deciding it’d be too stressful to continue your relationship when you were going to school 6 hours away. You spent your last few days together as if everything was normal, and then you just… left.
“Too bad.” His gaze dropped to the floor, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips. “We coulda had a real nice life together.”
You nodded and laced your fingers in his.
“It was nice while it lasted, though.” Osamu sighed, looking down at you. Your eyes met his, only for a moment, before you fully embraced him and soaked in every ounce of him. Muffled, barely audible words came from your lips as you pushed your face into his chest.
“It was nice while it lasted.”
But it didn’t hurt like you’d expected it to. You didn’t want it to. Your relationship with Osamu was wonderful. He was perfect for you, and the two of you shared so many incredible memories. You smiled when you thought back to one of your silly inside jokes. Felt warm when you saw anything that reminded you of him.
While you started casually dating other people in your second year of college, Osamu didn’t do the same. He was busy opening a restaurant and supporting his brother, information that you’d collected from his few and far between Facebook updates. Other than that, you hadn’t really spoken since the day you’d left.
The years flew by, and just like you’d promised your family, you moved back home the day after your college graduation.
Various relatives cooed over you, commenting on how different you looked, how proud they were of you, hurling questions at you the moment you stepped inside that you instantly regretted returning after such an eventful week.
“Where are you going? You just got home!” You mom called as she watched you lace up your shoes from the other room.
“Out. I’ll be back soon.”
That stressful evening is how you’d ended up at a dodgy, dimly lit bar two streets down that had always piqued your interest as a teenager. You and Osamu had promised to go there together when you were younger, both of you making up silly theories about what lied beyond the doors.
You chuckled into your drink as you remembered the conversations and compared them to reality.
“I wonder if it’s some kinky strip club.” Osamu smirked, “Ya know, like with ropes and handcuffs and stuff?”
“Do those exist? Strip clubs just for stuff like that?” You squeezed his hand and jumped up on to the sidewalk.
“I dunno. Anything’s possible. Better than your theory.” He teased. “An illegal animal sanctuary? Where’d ya even come up with that one?”
“Hear me out! I bet there’s some old man who has like, 17 tigers, an alligator, and a polar bear. Nowhere to keep them.” You stopped at the crosswalk, grabbing his cheeks so he looked straight at you. His eyes were wide with amusement and a massive grin was plastered across his face. “Picture it, ‘Samu. Really think. Can you see it? He probably lives there and just takes care of his exotic animals in secret.”
“Right.” He snorted, “And how do you explain the customers?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever actually seen anyone enter or leave that building?”
“Well, I-“ He stopped, pausing to think for a moment. “Ya know what? No. I haven’t.”
You tugged him into the crosswalk when the light changed and marched away proudly. “Exactly. Point proven. It’s a front.”
The two of you spent the rest of your walk home from school that day laughing and debating what kinds of animals the theoretical old man was hiding in the fake bar.
Osamu’s laugh was something you’d heard many times, but never gotten tired of. His laugh was infectious; deep and loud and right from his chest. A laugh that would cause anyone to smile just from being around it.
A laugh that you recognized the moment you heard it.
You spun around on the bar stool, drink still in hand, in complete disbelief as the man who you were just thinking about was practically summoned in front of you. What a coincidence - you made a mental note to call your old roommate and tell her that her manifestation theories might not be bogus after all.
“Ain’t that somethin’,” Osamu whistled, taking off his hat to reveal his natural hair colour and giving you a playful nudge. “Didn’t know I’d run into ya here.”
“You didn’t?” You smiled.
“Had no clue.”
You pulled out your phone, showing him your most recent social media post. It was a photo of your drink, the location tagged with a passive caption about returning home.
“You didn’t see this?” You snorted when he shook his head no.
“Osamu Miya liked your post. Explain that.” You pointed directly at your most recent notification, showing that Osamu had definitely seen it 20 minutes prior.
“Hackers. Gotta be.” You felt a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you indulged in his sarcastic banter. “‘Cuz it’s clearly a coincidence that I just happened to show up to the same shitty bar on a certain Tuesday night.”
“You’re such a fuck.” You laughed, “Be serious.”
“Obviously I knew.” He rolled his eyes playfully and waved down a waitress. “Just wasn’t sure if you were gonna talk to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” You took a sip of your drink and watched him as he ordered his own. The way he carried himself was different. Subtle, but different. Confident and unapologetically himself.
He shrugged. “Just didn’t think you wanted to. I never heard from ya after you left.”
You blinked at him. “I kinda thought that’s what you wanted. That’s why I never reached out.”
“Why would I want that?” He thanked the waitress and took a sip of his drink the moment she handed it to him.
“I dunno. I just assumed since you didn’t say anything to me after I left.”
“So you’re tellin’ me we didn’t talk because we both thought the other didn’t want to?” Osamu’s question wasn’t really even directed to you, if anything, he was talking out loud to himself.
You were the first to crack up. “I guess so.”
“Hah.” He chuckled, “How stupid is that?”
“…Pretty stupid.”
He shook his head, smiling and silently cursing himself for allowing a little breakup and a few hours distance ruin the best relationship with someone he’d ever had, dating or not.
“Well, whatever. We’re here now. Wanna hang out?”
You almost choked on your drink. You weren’t expecting to see Osamu at all, let alone expecting to be hanging out with him on your first day back after four years of radio silence.
But you didn’t even think twice.
“Of course I do.”
The two of you picked up where you left off and it was as if you’d never even gone away. The connection was instant.
“You dyed your hair brown.” You smiled, reaching up and ruffling it in between your fingers. “It looks good.”
“I’d be worried if it didn’t.” He smiled wide but got lost in your gaze for a few seconds, studying your expression carefully. He took a careful look at you while sipping his drink. “You look good. Every bit of ya.”
“Thanks, ‘Samu.” You felt your cheeks get warm and turned away. A feeling you hadn’t experienced since high school.
“Wanna go for a walk?”
Before you could answer, Osamu set some cash on the bar and grabbed your hand. Again, it was familiar, but felt different. Stronger. Bigger. His hand completely engulfed yours and you wondered if he knew how tight he was holding you.
The two of you walked down the road for a few minutes, silently, soaking in the past two hours spent catching up with each other.
He stopped in front of a building a few blocks down, nodding up at it so you’d take a look. You knew instantly where you were.
“I still can’t believe you actually did it.” You looked back and forth from his proud stance to the large sign above the door reading “Onigiri Miya”.
“Let me show ya inside.”
He took you around the back, unlocking the door and flicking on the lights as he came in. The light was warm and the restaurant was inviting. Warm, inviting, comfortable… everything Osamu had always been.
“It’s so cozy in here.” You ran your hand across the clean countertop. As you paced through the kitchen, you walked around the barrier separating the staff area from the main dining room. “Reminds me of your Mom’s house in here.”
“In a good way, right?” He followed closely behind, not wanting to interrupt your first impression too much.
“Of course.” You turned around, beaming a smile at him. “I always loved coming over. You know that.”
He nodded. “Guess I’ll have to have ya over again sometime. I’m sure Ma would love to see you.”
“I’d love to see her, too.” You picked up and put down all of the little trinkets and decorations Osamu had laid out in his restaurant. A small MSBY mascot bobble head, various culinary contest awards, cute little stickers with the restaurant logo, and a stuffed alligator eating a mini onigiri.
“Hm.” You hummed, picking up the alligator. “Now all you’re missing is 17 tigers and a polar bear.”
Osamu blinked at you.
“Sorry.” You laughed awkwardly, “You must not remember. It’s nothing-“
“That’s the exact reason I have that.” He smiled, walking over and taking the alligator from you. “I had it handmade. Even named it after ya.”
“Shut up.”
“M’serious.” Osamu’s confident demeanour almost disappeared as he appeared bashful for just a moment. A small moment, but you still saw it.
Osamu ended up pouring you a drink while you continued to talk. He leaned over the counter as you sat at the bar opposite of him, your faces only a few inches apart.
“I still can’t believe you remembered that.” You said quietly before taking a sip.
“Of course I remembered it. I couldn’t forget the silly shit you say even if I wanted to.” He teased, “Plus, I had to walk by that place every day after you left. Made me think of ya every time.”
“Silly shit, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, “You’re the one who thought it was a strip club.”
Osamu blinked at you. “That’s much more believable than being an old man’s exotic animal sanctuary.”
“Okay, okay, fine!” You didn’t realize how stupid the conversation was until he said it like that. The two of you broke into a fit of laughter just like you used to.
You looked at Osamu, the top of his cheeks squishing just under his eyes, loud, deep laughs filling the room and suddenly you’d never felt such an overwhelming feeling of… home.
Osamu looked back at you. His ash-coloured eyes studied your expression.
“Hey, do ya need a job?”
You hadn’t been home long, so you’d barely even thought of that. You had planned to take things a day at a time and try to find a career with your education, but your degree was hard to find employment with right away. Opportunities and internships were there, but there was no way you’d be getting an actual, paying job right away.
“…Yes?”
“Wanna work here?” He leaned in closer, “I don’t go around offerin’ just anyone a job at my high class establishment, ya know.”
“Something with the way you said that makes me feel like this is a joke.” You smirked.
“I’m just foolin’ around. I do need someone though. Wanna try it, at least? Tomorrow for dinner? I’ll show ya what it’s all about.”
You agreed. If anything, you wanted to see how Osamu ran his restaurant.
——— ♡ ———
The next evening, you entered through the back door just like he’d told you to.
“Osamu?” You called, immediately met with a response to come in the kitchen.
“Sorry, darlin’, couldn’t meet ya at the door. Doing prep for tonight.” He gestured down to the cutting board in front of him, “Wanna try?”
You quickly put down your things and washed your hands. When you took the knife from Osamu’s hand, he hesitated for a moment before giving it to you.
“It’s sharp.”
“I know.”
“You gotta be careful. It’s a real chef’s knife.”
“I know.”
“Go for it, then.”
You held your breath before getting to work, chopping up the onions quickly and stopping when you felt a hand on top of yours. Osamu was directly behind you, towering over you and pressing his chest into your back.
“‘Samu-“
“You’re gonna slice your hand off if ya keep cutting like that.” He muttered. You could feel the vibration of his low voice and were suddenly hyper-aware of the current situation.
“What’s wrong with my technique?” You huffed.
“You don’t have any technique.” Osamu snorted, “Don’t ya remember when I taught ya like… a million years ago?”
“I do remember you teaching me.” You leaned back into him, “I also remember you never letting me prepare or cook any food ever again after that day. So I could never practice my new skill.”
Osamu hummed in amusement. “Not even in college?”
You spun around, Osamu set the knife down safely on the table but caged you in with his arms. He looked down at you with a smirk. “Hm?”
“I’ll have you know, I didn’t cook a single time in college.” You declared. “You’d know that if you’d talked to me.”
Osamu sighed, hanging his head down on your shoulder. “We’ve already gone over this.”
“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.”
He lifted his head back up, only a few inches from your face. You felt like the breath was taken directly out of your lungs when all you could think about was kissing him. You wanted to reach out and touch his muscular arms just for him to get greedy and grab you wherever he wanted.
“Miya-san?”
You froze, both of you wide eyed in surprise at the sound of a much younger voice. A young man, most likely freshly graduated from high school, stood beside the two of you as you remained in the compromising position.
Osamu pulled back, and both of you stood up straight.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-“
“It’s okay, ya didn’t interrupt.”
He did, you thought, but you were silently thankful for that. Every ounce of self control that remained was about to fly out the window had you stayed like that for even a few seconds more.
His small group of employees started to file in and prepare the restaurant further for dinner. You retreated to Osamu’s office and laid down on the couch.
Osamu would have a couch in his office.
You listened as Osamu instructed his team. Taught the younger staff how to tune their skills, taking the time to show them with nothing but patience and positivity. The same comforting presence he always had.
You missed that.
You missed him.
“Hey.” Osamu walked into his office and shut the door behind him. “Finished prep, sorry it got a bit crazy. Didn’t realize we were so close to workin’ hours, thought we would’ve had more time before everyone else got in.”
“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “No need to apologize. It’s really cool seeing you in your element.”
“Ya think?” He couldn’t hide his grin. He stood in front of you, leaning back slightly with his hands on his desk behind him. “I like workin’ here.”
“Well, that’s good. I’d hope so.”
Osamu agreed with a chuckle and sat down next to you.
“Can I tell ya somethin’?”
He sat with his arm around back of the couch, which was technically around you, now. You looked up at him and nodded silently.
“I, uh-“ He shook his head, it was clear he was trying to say something but it was difficult. “I really missed ya.”
“I missed you too-“
“No, like…” He sighed, “I really… really missed ya. I tried goin’ on dates with other women. Didn’t get along with any of ‘em. I always compared ‘em to you. I waited for you to finish school, to see if you’d come back home, and you did. It felt like a sign or somethin’. So when I saw you at the bar last night,” He paused, “Totally, completely coincidentally, I may add.”
His serious tone turned lighter as you smiled at his words.
“I just had to talk to ya. And now that I did, it feels like when we were kids, ya know? Just the way that I always wanted you around. Wanted to spend time with ya, hell, you have no idea how badly I just wanted to kiss ya when we were in the kitchen earlier-“
“‘Samu.”
“I don’t even know why I let our breakup happen in the first place. Usually I would’ve just said we could work through it. But I guess I wanted ya to grow on your own, too. To not have me encourage ya every step of the way. Not that I don’t like to do that, but I wanted to show ya that you don’t need me either. That you’re incredible and strong all on your own.”
“Osamu.”
“But then I realized I didn’t have to do that. We didn’t have to break up for us to grow into who we are on our own. By then it was too late, though. But you just looked so happy. I never wanted to mess with that. So I didn’t bother ya, and now that I’m lookin’ at ya as an adult I’m just so fuckin’ proud of ya, of all of your accomplishments and the way you carry yourself. You’re just-“
“Osamu.”
“Yeah?”
You reached up and wiped a single tear drop falling down his cheek.
“You’re crying.”
“Oh, shit.” He turned away, wiping his eyes quickly and looking back at you. “I’m sorry. Man, I just started pourin’ my heart out to ya and couldn’t stop.”
“It’s okay.” You leaned in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You felt him let out a heavy exhale as he pulled you on top of his lap and right against him.
“I missed ya.” He sighed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So much. Fuck.”
You tried to respond but you were choked up. You hadn’t realized you were crying, either.
He lifted his head up and looked directly at you. Osamu’s smile was kind, his expression vulnerable and it warmed your heart just looking at him.
“I missed you, too.” You said quietly.
“Really?”
“Yes, really!” You pulled back, planting the palms of your hands on his chest. “You have no idea how much I missed you, ‘Samu. Every day I waited for you to call me. But I thought you didn’t want to. So I finally accepted it and tried to move on. But like you said, I couldn’t actually do that. Nobody compares to you.”
Osamu hummed in agreement, resting his hands comfortably on your hips.
“It’s nice to hear ya say that.”
“Speaking of that,” You smirked, “Did I hear you say you wanted to kiss me in the kitchen?”
“Oh, yeah, you did.” He blinked up at you, absolutely no hesitation in his response. “I wanted to real bad.”
Your last strand of self control snapped the moment you heard those words. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his and instinctively tangling your fingers in his hair.
His voice rumbled low in his throat as he wrapped an arm around your lower back, pulling you against him as tight as possible while he stood up.
“Osamu!” You giggled, wrapping your legs around him. “Don’t-“
“I won’t drop ya, baby.” He assured you, pressing his lips back to yours. The sweet name of endearment made your heart melt and all you could think about in that moment was him. “Not now, not ever. Never again. You’re stuck with me.”
———
AN: Thanks so much for reading! I didn’t proofread this more than once, so please excuse any mistakes. I wrote this two years ago and forgot how much I loved it. God, timeskip Osamu is such a husband. ♡
#haikyuu x reader#miya osamu fluff#osamu miya angst#osamu scenarios#osamu#miya#miya osamu x you#osamu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu drabble#miya osamu x reader#timeskip osamu#haikyuu time skip#onigiri miya#osamu fluff
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Oooh, I hope you have so much fun abroad! :D
Okay dokey, here are my fluff ideas this time around:
-Reader gets made fun of for having a seemingly silly phobia, but Loki happens to share the phobia (like, think of something not a lot of people would be afraid of)
-Loki overhears Reader singing really well, but she also refuses to sing in front of people because she was humiliated last time she tried, so Loki eavesdrops until Reader finds him one day
-Just have Reader and Loki floating around Avengers Tower acting like Gomez and Morticia Addams for 500 words, bonus if they get frisky in a public space and Satchel!Steve makes a cameo
Fluff Drabble Marathon II
A link to my Fluff Library is HERE
Warnings: Some steamy content/references. Still fluff (w/c 550)
A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE [18+]
Public Displays of Affection
The door to the conference room opened. He was late to Rogers 7am meeting, as usual.
“Laufeyson, take a seat” Rogers chided, sighing as the god gracefully took the spot you’d saved for him at the otherwise full table.
“My love” Loki murmured, ignoring Steve and raising the back of your hand to his lips.
He pressed a kiss firmly against your skin, making you shiver. “My goddess…” another kiss planted against your wrist, “my queen…” he bit your forearm gently, sucking the skin; those piercing eyes never leaving yours.
“Excuse me.” Wilson huffed, throwing his arms in the air, “Is there a damn orgy on the agenda this morning? I guess I missed that email, huh?”
You felt heat rising in your cheeks as you pulled your arm away from Loki’s grasp, glancing apologetically around the table.
“I fail to see why it is my concern that your midgardian customs do not allow for lovers to greet each other in a fitting manner” Loki purred to Wilson, his eyebrows raising haughtily.
“Hey, Loki” Natasha quipped, sliding her arm across the table and resting her head on her palm, “I was enjoying it, makes a change from Captain Dry over here and his droning. No offence, Cap.” she chuckled as Steve threw his hands in the air.
“What else you got in that suave-bank, Laufeyson?” she said coyly, wriggling her eyebrows. Loki’s lips curled in a knowing smile, enjoying the opportunity for mischief unfolding.
“Indeed, Romanoff…” he murmured, turning his sultry gaze back to you. You melted. He could make you forget everything. Everyone. It could be quite inconvenient.
“In that case...Y/N you look positively ravishing this morning. The angelic sight of you fresh from your bed, rested and untouched by the day makes me quiver with the urge to worship you.” He leant forward, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear.
Loki’s eyes danced with amusement as his velvet voice continued to radiate through the air. “And I shall do so slowly...purposefully...an unravelling of the adoring thoughts that have been marinating in my mind since yesterday evening...”
The sound of Clint theatrically yakking broke the moment. “Jesus, man...I’ve just had breakfast.”
“I think it’s sweet…” Wanda cooed, resting her chin in her hand, “makes a change from you guys bottling everything up…” her eyes travelled towards Vis, who gestured in bemusement to Scott beside him.
“Sweet?” Wilson’s eyes grew wide in disbelief, “I feel like I’m watchin’ a peep show right now.”
“What does this mean, this...‘bottling up’?” Vis murmured to Scott, as the man beside him shrugged. “Don’t look at me dude, I have no idea what’s happening” Lang murmured, rubbing his eyes.
Loki’s lips found your neck, murmuring sweet praises only audible to you as you giggled in spite of yourself. Nat and Wanda gave each other appreciative looks as the men around the table threw their gaze to the ceiling, one by one.
“Ok...I think we’re gonna take ten and re-visit the start time of this meeting once Loki and Y/N have had time to properly greet each other” Steve huffed, before striding dramatically out the door.
“Wait up man…” Wilson shouted, pushing himself from the table, followed by each member of the team in tandem.
The bustle of footsteps making their way towards the canteen echoed in the hallway as Loki’s lips found yours, pressing against them with the burning passion of a thousand suns.
“You continue to bewitch me, love” he murmured, peppering kisses along the line of your cheekbones, “never stop…”
“Loki this is torture...they think we’re ridiculous” you giggled, leaning into the pressure of his mouth on your neck.
“To live without your affections, my love...only that would be torture.” he whispered gently against the raised hairs of your skin, “let them talk. I care only for the words from your lips when you bend willingly against my touch...”
Loki’s smouldering gaze bore into you, raising your hand once again as his wet tongue pressed in a longing kiss to the underside of your wrist.
-
Reduced Fluff Tags
@lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @loopsisloops @theaudacitytowrite @holdmytesseract @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokikissesmyforehead @ladylovesloki @lollywritesstuff @sititran @holymultiplefandomsbatman @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @mcufan72 @nightshadelm @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbs @123forgottherest @simplyholl @homesickcassie @ozymdias @xorpsbane @michelleleewise @vbecker10
#loki fluff#loki x reader#loki x reader fluff#loki laufeyson#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki laufeyson fluff
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Whumptober Day 4: Fun Uncles
AO3
Written for the prompt: Shock
Nineteen years ago…
When the last mourner leaves there’s an air of finality. Like now that they’ve finished with the funeral, Dad is really dead.
Zenkichi, Tsuru, and Mom all just sort of sit around the family room, not saying anything, until someone’s stomach growls.
“Tsuru, could you please make some dinner?” Mom asks.
Tsuru wordlessly gets up and heads into the kitchen, but soon enough there’s a loud crash and the sound of plates breaking.
“Damn it, Tsuru!” Mom snaps, and Zenkichi follows her into the kitchen, where Tsuru’s standing, surrounded by shards of ceramic.
“Sorry, I was just—”
“I don’t want to hear it! Go grab something to clean this up.”
Tsuru hangs her head and runs out.
“That girl, she doesn’t know how lucky she is, beautiful, never has to worry about her weight, if she could be bothered to behave properly men would be lining up to marry her,” Mom huffs. “Couldn’t even wear proper clothes throughout the whole ceremony.”
“Mom, it’s hot out. You know Tsuru doesn’t do too well in the heat, especially not decked head to toe in black. Dad certainly wouldn’t want her collapsing from heatstroke just because of him.”
“Even more reason she should focus on being a proper housewife! She can’t even go out, so she could damn well learn to keep house.”
“Ok, ok, I think we’re all tired,” Zenkichi says. “How about we just call Oishi’s and get some food delivered. One less thing to worry about.”
Tsuru comes back in with a broom.
“You’re bleeding,” Zenkichi says as Mom snatches the broom out of Tsuru’s hands.
She starts sweeping the mess, and Zenkichi pulls Tsuru into the bathroom where they keep their first aid kit.
“I can do it, it’s not that deep,” Tsuru mumbles.
“Eh, come on, let me do it.”
“How mad is Mom?”
“She’s stressed.”
“Sure, but how mad is she at me?”
“Look, it’s been a long day, she’ll be over it in the morning. We’re gonna call Oishi’s and get some delivery.”
“Can we go pick it up?” Tsuru asks. “When you leave, I won’t have anyone to go out with, might as well spend as much time as I can outside of this place.”
“Why don’t you ask mom? Or one of your friends, didn’t you mention—”
“She doesn’t know about them,” Tsuru says, “for a reason.”
“Tsuru, you’re being dramatic.”
“No, I’m not. She’s worse when you’re not here.” Tsuru sighs. “Hurry up and get a job already so I can move in with you in Tokyo.”
“I still have five more months of training at the police academy. I might not even be stationed in Tokyo, you know.”
“I don’t care. Anywhere is better than here. Anyone is better than her.”
“She’s our Mom.”
“She sure doesn’t act like it.”
“You know she’s only like this because she’s worried about you, right? Now that Dad’s dead, she’s worried no one will take care of you if she dies.”
“Won’t you be around?”
“Well, you know how she is, she thinks that when I’m a family man, I’m not going to have time to look after my baby sister.
Tsuru kicks him. “I’m not a baby, dummy.”
“Sure sound like one, calling people dummy.”
Tsuru cracks a smile for the first time since Zenkichi came home for the funeral. “I guess if three years difference makes me a baby, you can carry me all the way to Oishi’s.”
“Yeah, no.”
“Come on!”
“No.”
Present
According to the forecast, the day they leave Sapporo is the hottest of the summer, and Yusuke can definitely feel that.
He feels like he’s wading through soup with all the humidity.
“Yusuke? Are you alright?” Morgana asks while they pack up.
“The heat,” Yusuke says. “And I’m sore from our fight with Shadow Mariko yesterday.” His neck and shoulders hurt, but they’re nothing compared to the pressure in his chest.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit then,” Haru says.
“I don’t want—“
“Nah dude don’t give us any of that ‘I don’t want to be an inconvenience’ crap,” Ryuji says, “rest a bit, we don’t mind.”
Yusuke’s too tired to insist otherwise, so goes to sit on the bench.
He sees Inspector head over to them.
“You kids almost ready?” he asks, but strangely it’s being drowned out by the ringing in Yusuke’s ears. Everything sounds vague and distant, and he can’t follow the conversation at all.
Then Inspector Hasegawa seems to nice him and the Inspector’s immediately concerned
He opens his mouth to say something that’s probably “Kitagawa?!” but Yusuke can’t hear it specifically because he’s too focused on the way everything’s spinning.
~
“Niijima, call an ambulance. Sakamoto, help me lie him on the ground,” Zenkichi says.
“Wh-what’s—” Niijima stammers but Zenkichi doesn’t have time for this.
Sakamoto helps him lay Kitagawa on the ground. “Good, now raise his feet slightly above his head,” Zenkichi instructs.
“Ok.” Sakamoto does, and there’s a small crowd coming to the scene, but Zenkichi doesn’t even have to tell Amamiya to keep them away.
Kitagawa still isn’t responsive, but starts taking gasping breaths that are fewer and farther between, so Zenkichi moves to perform CPR.
Old habits really do die hard. It’s been years since Zenkichi spent his summers taking CPR training, but his hands move on his own at the right rhythm.
He feels Kitagwa’s ribs cracks, and Sakamoto winces in sympathy, but Zenkichi isn’t bothered. He keeps going until Kitagawa’s eyes flutter open, just as the ambulance arrives.
Zenkichi follows the paramedics, who give him a questioning look, but Zenkichi doesn’t want to bother with it.
“I’m his uncle.”
The paramedic nods and lets him in.
Eighteen years ago…
There’s an inexplicable feeling of dread when Zenkichi comes home. No movement, not from Tsuru in her art room nor Mom in the living room.
His visit home was supposed to be a surprise, but he didn’t expect them to be out.
After waiting a second, Zenkichi grabs his gun before heading inside.
He feels some sort of relief when he realizes the door is still locked and has no sign of being forced open.
Unfortunately, he relaxed too soon.
Because when he enters, he sees his mother’s cold, dead, body at the bottom of the stairs, surrounded by days-old dry blood.
Zenkichi wants to scream, cry, and throw up all at once.
Instead he runs upstairs to check Tsuru’s room.
It’s completely empty, but there are signs of a fight with broken canvases and paint cans that look kicked over. Normally, Tsuru’s window is always locked, but now it’s wide open and there’s the remnants of what looks like a sheet tied to the table.
Other than that, there’s no sign of Tsuru in the house.
Present
There’s a whirr of activity that eventually settles with Zenkichi sitting in the hospital room with Kitagawa.
A doctor comes in. “Hello, you’re his uncle?” she asks. “Have you contacted his parents?”
“No, they passed away,” Zenkichi says. “But I’m responsible for him at the moment.”
“Do you have his medical information?”
“No, but his mother suffered from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy.”
“Of course, probably complications from the heat. Make sure he’s rested and hydrated and doesn’t stay outside for too long. You administered CPR?”
“Yes.”
“You did a good job. Cracking the ribs is a normal occurrence so I don’t want you to think—”
“I know, I did it to his mother too,” Zenkichi admits. He’d been absolutely panicked when she collapsed during a school picnic and spent the whole time inconsolable until his father explained he hadn’t made it worse.
“Ah, well I just didn’t want you worrying you did something wrong. You saved his life.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Do you know of any medications he’s taking?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Well, I’d like to keep him for a bit just to make sure there’s no complications. I’m sure you’ve noticed but he’s severely underweight and suffering from anemia. We might end up keeping him overnight.”
“Alright, thank you.”
The doctor leaves and Zenkichi practically collapses into the nearest chair.
God, he’s more exhausted than he’s been in a long time. They’ll probably end up staying in Sapporo an extra day and—
Oh. Oh no.
Zenkichi pulls out his phone and calls Akane.
“Where are you?” Akane asks as soon as the phone picks up.
Zenkichi sighs. “Look, I’m not going to be home tonight.”
“WHAT?! What are you doing?!”
“I’m sorry! I don’t want to do this, but your cousin had a heart attack.”
“Huh? Grandma and Grandpa didn’t—”
“No, on my side of the family. My sister’s son.”
“Are you serious? You can’t come up with a better lie?! You only mention your sister sometimes and I sure as hell haven’t met her.”
“It’s really, really complicated. I promise I’ll explain tomorrow.”
“Yeah, whatever. See you.” The line clicks, and Zenkichi throws his head back. Why is his life like this?
“Is that your daughter?”
Zenkichi snaps his head up, and Kitagwa’s awake.
“Kitagawa!”
“Lying to the hospital is one thing,” Kitagawa says, “but there’s no need to lie to your daughter for my sake.”
It’s funny that for all Kitagawa inherits from his father, he makes the exact same look as Tsuru did when she caught Zenkichi in a lie.
Daring him to try and dig himself deeper.
“Er, right.” Zenkichi scratches his head. “Look, Kitagawa. I wasn’t… exactly lying.”
“So what you told the doctor was true? You’re my uncle?”
“You’ve been listening in that long, huh?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
The way Kitagwa’s glaring at him, Zenkichi feels a pang of nostalgia. Honestly, it’s been so long, he even misses Tsuru being mad at him. “I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know the right time. It’s not like I can just walk up to someone I’m investigating and say ‘hey, I’m your long lost uncle!’”
“Are we still just people you’re investigating at this point?”
“Well…”
Kitagawa’s frown gets deeper. “Fine. Did you know my mother died? Why did you never come to pay your respects?”
“That’s… I didn’t think she’d want me there. Or to have anything to do with you,” Zenkichi says.
“Then tell me why. I think you owe me that, at least.”
Zenkichi takes a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Eighteen years ago…
Zenkichi hasn’t slept in weeks. If he’s right, he’s tracked Tsuru to Tokyo of all places. Supposedly someone’s seen her working at this ramen shop, so Zenkichi settles in to a seat by the door, and waits all day.
His tab is pretty expensive by the time Tsuru shows up, slipping in discreetly by the back and relieving a stressed-out high school student. She goes to talk with the owner and locks eyes with Zenkichi.
They stare at each other across the shop for a second, before Tsuru whispers something quickly to the owner, clearly apologizing, then heads over to Zenkichi.
“Let’s go outside,” she says, and Zenkichi lets her lead the way out.
They go around back, and the second they’re out of sight of any cameras, Zenkichi pulls her into a hug.
“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you?”
Tsuru blinks at him. “W-wow, I thought you’d open with yelling.”
“Who’s behind this? The owner?”
“W-what? No, behind what?”
“Who kidnapped you?”
Tsuru groans. “Oh, ok is that how Mom’s dealing with it? Of course not, it’s never her fault.”
“Tsuru, Mom’s dead.”
Tsuru’s face goes pale. “W-what? W-what happened?”
“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, what do you mean ‘that’s how she’s dealing with it?’”
“I wasn’t kidnapped,” Tsuru says. “I ran away.”
Zenkichi feels his eye twitch. “What?”
“I ran away.”
“What do you mean you ran away?”
“I couldn’t stay in that house anymore, so I ran away.”
“On your own?! Tsuru, do you know how worried I’ve been?! Of all the stupid little—”
“Stupid?! Are you kidding me, I tried to tell you so many times, but you never believed me?”
“What about the canvases then?”
“Mom broke them! She’s been breaking them for years when she’s mad at me!” Tsuru snaps. “And I could never bear to throw them out, so I kept them and left them in my room so she’d remember why I left!”
“I thought someone had broken into your room because you felt like being dramatic?”
“Gah! This is why I didn’t talk to you!”
“Tsuru I haven’t slept in weeks trying to investigate your disappearance and mom’s death.” Suddenly Zenkichi stops, and he steps back from her. “...did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Did you kill Mom?”
“What? Have you gone crazy?”
“You had a fight, you pushed her down the stairs, and then you panicked.”
“First of all, that’d have to be a pretty hefty shove, and as you’ll remember I can barely throw a ball 30cm. All my life it’s been ‘oh no Tsurur you’re too small for that, yu’re too weak for that, you can’t do that,’ but now you think I can shove someone with 30 pounds on me hard enough to send them down the stairs?!” Tsuru gasps. “Besides, If it was an accident I would have called you.”.
“You didn’t call me when you decided to run away to Tokyo!”
“Because you’d tell Mom, and it wouldn’t be safe for—” Tsuru clutches her stomach and looks away. “That’s different, ok?”
“Then maybe when you left you left the window open and someone broke in and killed Mom,” Zenkichi says. “Either way you still killed her.”
“That’s— that’s not true.”
“Come on, we’re going to the police station.” Zenkichi says, grabbing for her wrist, but Tsuru snaps it back.
“What? N-no, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m betting you were hired under a fake name,” Zenkichi says. “You may have tampered with a crime scene.”
“I told you I didn’ kill Mom!”
“Well I can’t believe you now, can I?” Zenkichi says. “I thought you’d tell me about something like this, so how can I know you’re being honest with me now.”
“You’re not even working Mom’s case. They wouldn’t let you.”
“Oh so you want to call an officer and wait for a police car?”
“You’re just doing this because you’re mad at me!”
“No, I’m not, I’m acting as an officer of the law, and since you were the last one to see Mom alive, you’re a suspect, and should be interrogated.”
Tsuru looks down on the ground and mutters something.
“What was that?”
“...I hate you,” Tsuru says without raising her voice. “I’ve been so worried I was wrong not to trust you, and here you are proving my right. I hate you! I hate you so much!” Then she walks off.
“Where are you going?”
“To the police station, that’s what you wanted right? Then once they explain you’re ridiculous for thinking I could kill Mom, then I’ll decide if I ever want to talk to you again.”
Present
Yusuke doesn’t know how to feel after Inspector Hasegawa— should he call him Uncle?— finishes. He grasps for the first thought he can force into intelligible words.
“And after that?”
“I got chewed out for accessing information on a case I wasn’t working on to track down your mom, she showed her train ticket to prove she was already gone by mom’s ETD, and then she never spoke to me again,” Inspector Uncle Hasegawa says.
“Were you still angry with her?”
“I held out for a year being stubborn. Then I didn’t know how to talk to her.”
“Did you know about me? Did you know she’d died?”
“Yes. It’s not like I was stalking her or anything, but I… kept tabs on her. When she died, I’d heard you were living with a family friend, so I figured that’d be better for everyone.”
Yusuke would be lying if he said he didn’t see Hasegawa’s side of things. It’s not like he’d know what to say.
But another part of him is stewing in an ice cold rage. Madarame had always said he should be grateful, that Yusuke had no other family who would want to take him in. Was that just another lie or an accidental truth considering his uncle had never even tried to reach out to him after his mother’s death.
His mother’s death stands out as the one sharp point of the haze of his early childhood, and he remembers it being just him, Madarame, and a few other mourners. If Hasegawa had been there, he never spoke to Yusuke.
Though, given the look on Hasegawa’s face, now’s not the time to go into that.
So Yusuke swallows his rage. “Can you send the doctor in? I suppose I need to give her my medical information.”
“Oh, sure, of course. I’ll go tell your friends everything.”
Inspector Uncle Hasegawa gets up, and something in his bearing makes Yusuke feels as though he’s only added to the weight the man has been carrying all these years.
#uncle zenkichi conspiracy board#alto writes#whumptober#day 4#yusuke kitagawa#zenkichi hasegawa#child abuse tw#ask to tag#hospitals#heart attacks#medical stuff i probably got wrong I'm so sorry
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So there has been much deliberation over this panel of Saitama and I thought I’d give my Expert Opinion that nobody asked for.
So, this takes place before or at the very beginning of his confrontation with Garou and I was surprised to see so much… debate over it? This isn’t the first time we’ve seen Saitama drawn with the Villain Contour and saying some super dramatic shit before; I always just assumed in those moments we were supposed to be seeing him from the villain/opposing POV (as seen below with Nyan and Flash).
Obviously, they would be very scared of him and interpret anything he says as a threat even if he doesn’t necessarily mean it that way but, truth be told, in this specific instance before his big confrontation with Garou, I just think Saitama was being melodramatic?
Like, my man’s entire one bedroom studio apartment just got obliterated, his entire town is underwater, there’s like 87 bitches around him who are either dead or dying and he’s having a Bad Day like he’s in a really Bad Mood. I’ve told people “I’ll blow this whole place up” over a mild inconvenience before so it’s really not hard to imagine him saying something else along those lines? “I kinda feel like I’d rather just obliterate the whole planet” was probably just him complaining! I’m not sure why I’ve seen so many of my friends and others say it was OOC for him, as if we haven’t seen him in this same light before multiple times. And as I said before: Garou, because he’s intimidated by Saitama in this moment, probably interprets this as a threat and that’s why Sai is drawn that way—because we’re seeing this from Garou’s POV.
Obviously I could be wrong but I could also… not be wrong haha. This is a very common technique used by manga and comic artists to make the audience see a different perspective—by drawing the protagonists and antagonists as they see each other and not from the view of some neutral third party like they often do.
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The Inconvenience of Drama
I guess I just don’t understand what story the Mandalorian is telling?
Season 1 had the typical “Wolf and Cub” mixed with a traditional Western. Hardass man becomes slightly less hardass, learns to love, etc.
Season 2 had a “what’s best for the parent isn’t always best for the child,” Din tries to make a better life for Grogu with his “people,” even if it hurts him.
Season 3 seems to be “Din sees some stuff, starfighters are cool.”
Like, the season isn’t over so obviously the narrative arc is harder to map, but I feel like this show takes every possible opportunity to do the least interesting thing possible. When Grogu left, the most interesting season 3 would be to explore Din WITHOUT Grogu but with the lessons he’s learned in season 1 and season 2. Then they just brought the little dude back on a different terrible show that no one watched?
What they should have done was keep the drama of season 2′s ending, but do a Luke/Grogu/Jedi Academy show. That way Din’s decision still holds and season 2 actually mattered, but the audience still gets to see Grogu in a different show (which also becomes a hook for that show). So you can have your corporate desires and your story, too, but for some reason they did neither.
So now Grogu is back, but there doesn’t really seem to be a story there. He’s just gonna be Din’s kid now. Din is sorta just content. They’ve chosen the least dramatic path possible.
And now with the Darksaber. They seemed to be setting up an confrontation between Bo and Din, where two marginal friends and actual allies have this nearly literal Sword of Damacles hanging over their heads. They’re going to have to fight, both of them know it.
That’s drama! Story is drama! Milk the drama! They want to be friends or allies (or more?!?!), but they literally can’t because her ambition conflicts with his honor. The audience gets to feel the tension knowing this won’t work, they will have to duel at some point, and they’ll have to both mean it.
Then they just...side-stepped it? “She saved me guys, trust me, here’s the saber.” Like, are we going for convenience or drama?
Is Mandalorian the story of the guy who is kinda friends with the person who unites his people? What are we doing here?
Of course, the answer is “we’re making an endless loop of shows that introduce other shows that introduce other shows,” but its so transparent that it’s killing the enjoyment. I don’t want to watch the next thing if it’s just a commercial for the next thing. Every show should stand alone, or at the very least, every show should actually have a story.
Has this ALWAYS been done? Yes, of course. But it used to be done with a little subtlety. Sure, Winter Soldier introduces Falcon, but it’s in service to Cap’s story: he’s finding veterans to connect to, he easily inspires people to join him, etc. Falcon doesn’t suddenly become the main character of the Winter Soldier. He doesn’t beat the Winter Soldier in the climax while Cap cheers on.
I’m for a Bo Katan show, I’d watch that in a heartbeat. But just, like, make that show. Don’t spend six episodes of another show sneaking in the first season of the Bo Katan show.
What does Din want? Season 3 has yet to even hint that he wants anything. He’s literally a protagonist with no desires or apparent agency. I get that this is a franchise for selling toys, but, like, there used to at least be the bare bones of a story there.
Boba Fett suffered from the same problem. I had no idea what he wanted, or WHY he wanted to do the things he was doing.
Star Wars plays in archetypes, that was always the fun of it. Big cliches slamming together at high volume. But, also basic stuff like three act structure, protagonist wanting something, drama. We can do this. It’s not asking a lot.
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Do you remember Weiss Kreuz?
Of course not. No one remembers this show. (This statement, like the show itself, is hyperbole.) For reasons inexplicable to everyone, myself included, I am revisiting it, looking at it now with the perspective of another 20 years of adult life plus a career in health care.
The pilot’s POV character is a one-off victim of the week, to whom we’re introduced as she banters with her boyfriend about being too devoted to her work (this is saved from toxicity only because the boyfriend is clearly teasing and because she clearly enjoys it). We are also introduced to a group of psychotic acrobatic assassins who do things like lick axes and get vital clues to fulfill their contract by looking at the front page of a newspaper. These villains have no skill.
We’re introduced to our heroes as if they’re celebrities, locally famous for being smoking hot and nothing else. (We’re going to have to refer to the promotional materials and the reactions of the crowed for the hotness, because the animation is, uh. It’s lacking.)
Omi, by the way, is smug AF as he tells a woman who has just lost her romantic partner to cheer up by way of a flower. What the actual fuck, Omi, that was remarkably insensitive. A van full of reporters fell on her boyfriend from on top of a bridge, and you want to tell her to just get over it??? (Knowing what I know about Omi, this is very on brand, but it does make him seem like a dick.)
I somehow forgot that their handler wears socks with her sandals, which is also extremely what the fuck and I don’t care how 1997 it was. I did, however, remember the basement rec room/assassin briefing center, which is exactly as batshit insane as the phrase florist assassins.
The story proceeds with the flimsiest of plot contrivances, in which the allegedly intelligent POV character, Michiru, proceeds with what would be a paper-thin investigative story (the people in the van must have died because they were on to a secret and we can figure out what it is! - this is Adam West Batman logic) except that it is being fed to her by one of the idiot villains.
Honestly, one hopes she would not be this naive if she weren’t blinded by grief, but given what I recall from the writing in the rest of the series, this is not the case. Part of how you can tell that much of this was written by men is that the woman agrees to go to a remote location with a man she has barely met with zero precautions, by the way.
What Michiru should find equally suspicious is that her local florists are all in this remote cabin, also with a stupidly flimsy excuse (Yohji is trying to explain to two women he’s dating that he’s not cheating on them and Michiru got the note by mistake).
Incidentally, it bothers me a lot that the remote mountain cabin is under a foot of snow but everyone in town was wearing short skirts and light clothing. Are there rental cabins on Mt. Fuji? Is that where they’re supposed to be? We’re just going to go with it and ignore inconvenient things like geography.
We’ve also been introduced to Ken (cheerful) and Aya (cranky). By the way. And then Weiss very obviously leaves Michiru and her buddy alone in the cabin, where Michiru manages to break into the encrypted disk she somehow had the presence of mind to squirrel away from the crime scene of a van falling off an overpass and crushing her boyfriend right in front of her eyes.
The villains reveal themselves. Michiru is terrified. Weiss dramatically shows up and murders them all to death in a slightly extended fight sequence showcasing their We Don’t Use Guns variety pack of weapons (sword, wire, wolverine claws, and darts). Michiru, having cruelly been used as bait, is left to wake up alone in a cabin full of corpses.
Yohji, by the way, at one point chastises the villains for making a girl cry. Buddy, YOU ARE USING HER AS BAIT. You’re not covering yourself with glory here.
The corpses are also strung up with Yohji’s wire and Omi’s darts are still stuck in at least once corpse. I’m in health care, not law enforcement, but the word evidence comes to mind. Repeatedly. And loudly.
On the up side, Michiru does have the disk with the damning information that the journalists were killed to get (something something energy council politician and illegal nuclear power, idk). So that’s pretty great. But Weiss not only used her as bait, they high-tailed it out of there and let her call them to tell them about the horrifying experience. I. What.
The level of detail paid to plot beyond Look At The Hot Assassins In Leather Clothes is, um. It’s minimal. Granted, this is the pilot, and the amount of exposition is limited, but Michiru is absolutely not reacting reasonably to anything other than being upset that her boyfriend is dead and the villain’s manipulation of her is so clumsy that it’s hard to believe it’s being played straight. I know this is not exactly aimed at a discerning or an adult audience, but damn. I don’t remember the writing being quite this bad.
Damn good voice acting, though.
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Crisis? Go watch the rain for 10 minutes.
It rained one morning this week. I moved back to Texas last year, in part for the rainstorms. Here, it rains decisively, gloriously, like it really means it. It explodes, pounds, roars, thunders and then, suddenly, moves on. I stepped on my back porch, not wanting to miss the show.
I sat, silent, smelling that indescribable rain scent and stretching out my hands, palms open in supplication, the same position I use in church to receive communion. The physicality of the experience, the sensual joy of sounds, smells, touch and sight, was profoundly humanizing. In a very real way, I am made for that. I am made to notice the rain. I’m made to love it.
But digitization is changing our relationship with materiality — both the world of nature and of human relationships. We are trained through technology (and technology corporations) to spend more time on screens and less time noticing and interacting with this touchable, smellable, feelable world. Social media in particular trains us to notice that which is large, loud, urgent, trending and distant, and to therefore miss the small, quiet importance of our proximate and limited, embodied lives...
Just as people have worked to revive slow, unprocessed and traditional food, we need to fight for the tangible world, for enduring ways of interacting with others, for holism. We need to reconnect with material things: nature, soil, our bodies and other people in real life. This doesn’t necessarily have to be big and dramatic. We don’t have to hurl our computers into the sea en masse.
But we do have to intentionally resist the siren song of digitization, which by and large promises far more than it can deliver. We have to be cautious and wise about introducing devices into our lives that fundamentally change how humans have interacted since time immemorial. We have to plunge ourselves primarily into the natural world and embodied human relationships, with all the complexity, challenges, inconvenience and pain that entails.
Go watch the rain for 10 minutes. Go on a walk with a friend. Get off social media and meet one neighbor. Keep your kids offline. Put your hands in the dirt. Play an instrument instead of a video game. Turn off your smartphone and have dinner with people around a table. Search for beauty and goodness in the material world, and there, find joy. The way back to ourselves, as individuals and a society, runs through old, earthy things.
— Tish Harrison Warren, from "We're in a Loneliness Crisis: Another Reason to Get Off Our Phones" (NY Times, May 1, 2022). Warren is an Anglican priest reflects on matters of faith in private life and public discourse.
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When Masami leaves, Harriet boils over. "You fucking hypocrite! First you try to film my love life, then you sleep with my best friend while you have a boyfriend? How long have you two been together? How long has this been going on?"
Harper turns around. "This is the first time."
"That's a lie," Harriet snarls. "Look at me. How long has this been going on?"
"It's been on and off since the trip to Selvadorado. On that trip, I realized that I wanted to be with Masami. I kissed her, but she still had feelings for you."
"Wait, she—"
"Be quiet." Harriet is the only person Harper ever talks to with such obvious vitriol. "In university, after Braxton broke your heart and Masami comforted you, she realized that she wasn't in love with you… she just loved you. She had a crush on you as kids, but not since then. After that, she and I started hooking up. Obviously, I had already started dating Ty. But it was convenient for him to have a girlfriend, and convenient for me to have such a famous boyfriend. Since my followers know Masami, it would be meaningless to start dating her."
"Are you telling me that Tyrone already knows you're sleeping with Masami?"
"Uh, no," she said, voice dripping with condescension. "I'm pretty sure he's fallen for me, so it makes it easier to pretend we're dating."
"And how long do you intend to keep this up?" Harriet exhales sharply.
"Once I graduate. I have a big, dramatic, public breakup planned that will make us both look good. It's super exciting!"
"You're a stupid, selfish bitch," Harriet manages, never the most verbose when furious. "Do you think Masami likes being an inconvenient lover? Don't you think Tyrone might want to actually fall in love? Don't you think I—"
"What? What does this have to do with you?"
"Don't you think I mind my best friend sleeping with my twin sister behind my back?" Harriet wants nothing more than to scream the truth at Harper, knowing that if it hurts Harper, if it makes her suffer, it'll only make Harriet happier. But she can't go against the promise she made to Ty. "And you dating my coworker is bad enough! Can't you have some consideration for other people for once in your life?"
"And maybe you should start thinking about yourself for a change, and keep your nose out of my life! Maybe if you worked a little harder rather than sneaking around other people's rooms, you'd actually get a callback!" Harper's smug smile is quickly wiped away by Harriet's right hand, the slap ringing across the room in time with Harriet's door slamming shut behind her.
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The Players are the Problem Community Managers Complain of Excessive Harassment
Some Destiny 2 and Minecraft players appear to be getting too obsessed with their game.
Kyle Orland - July 28, 2022, 4:00 PM UTC
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In video games community management is all about listening to the concerns of the fans and communicating with them in a manner that they feel their concerns are being heard. What happens when certain players become a source of concern?
This is the question two major gaming companies have been asked in recent times. Community managers say that customers who harass them make it more difficult for them to complete their job.
The first example is from the Destiny 2 community on Reddit one of the members posted on Wednesday complaining about the declining number of threads that get an official response from Bungie. Destiny 2 Community Manager Dylan "dmg04" Gafner responded to explain that he has taken some time off due to "some serious harassment of my family and me," which has resulted in "an amount of communication that has been cut down as the team develops future protections / strategies to help prevent these kinds of incidents from happening."
The the harassment Gafner is referring to goes beyond "just rude responses on Twitter or vague remarks," he wrote, and encompasses "real threats against our staff and our studio" from fans. Some of that harassment has been reported to have come from private channels. "Just because you can't see it directly in a given tweet or forum reply doesn't mean that it didn't happen," Gafner wrote.
"I will be clear in saying that I appreciate the studio in the way that it has assisted me personally after some serious abuse towards me and my family," Gafner wrote. "I'm taking a break partly due to this."
While Gafner acknowledged that "it's an inconvenience that we don't have as much interaction here in recent times," the reduced communication isn't a "retaliatory action" against the majority of the community. Gafner wrote "Sometimes we require a bit of time to get things sorted out." "Can take weeks, or take months, just like any other development pipeline, because we're looking for the best for our players and our employees. We can't continue to do business like normal until we've got the issues solved. It's not easy, but we want to make sure people are safe and taken care.
Madness in Minecraft
Further Reading
Mojang clarified in an FAQ that it doesn't focus on minor offenses such as swearing, but rather on serious instances of hate speech, bullying harassment sexual solicitation, or threats to other people. Mojang also clarified that it will not be monitoring chat on private servers (absent complaints from players) and that decisions on bans will be made by humans, and that appeals will be allowed.
Fans are voicing their disapproval of the new moderation system. Many angry fans are organizing under #SaveMinecraft hashtag. The hashtag is full of dramatic comparisons to George Orwell’s 1984. In one of the more simple examples of the hashtag, a Twitter user wrote: "Just remove all chat reports." "Servers should be in charge of moderation, just as they have always been."
Reporting me for saying racial slurs is literally 1.19.84#saveminecraft pic.twitter.com/43BCekvGnB
- Walnut Bread Guy (@WalnutBreadGuy) July 19, 2022
MojangMesh is a relatively new Community Manager, wrote on Reddit that even though the company "appreciates and appreciates" feedback, Mojang "not intends to alter" its chat moderation system. Listening to feedback "does not mean that feedback will never alter the design principles Mojang Studios adheres to," MojangMeesh explained.
But MojangMeesh went on to criticize some members of the Minecraft community for taking their feedback too far. He wrote that some fans' overzealous and harassing messages have hindered communication between the company, its players and their customers.
Reddit users have been following Mojang employees, making comments on the system and responding to their posts. Please understand that this behavior doesn't encourage employees to reach out to the community, nor will it result in the changes you'd like to see. If you are strongly influenced by something in Minecraft Tell us about it in the appropriate forums (such as these threads) because we'd love to hear what you have to say! However, harassment doesn't help anyone, not the developers who suffer from it, nor the players who are excited about a forthcoming change. We'd like to keep an open and positive dialog with you, but this kind of behavior inhibits that.
Although problematic players are not new to the gaming world, it is rare for community managers to make such public complaints about harassment that it makes their job more difficult. Let's hope that these community managers prevail and that the businesses involved will continue giving the assistance they require.
Minecraft servers
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♋️ rocio and angel?
that would actually be hilarious sorry I’m probably not going to write that much for this cause it’s hard to come up with like in depth ideas but let’s see. I think Rocio would be like a sheltered academic, very interested in magic but with 0 chance of ever experiencing it themselves. They’re very dedicated to studying it and have a lot of secondhand knowledge, but no firsthand experience with magical like creatures or spells or anything. Angel becoming a wizard is a lot harder to justify lol umm maybe if he was a legitimate child recognized as royalty, so he doesn’t really have any power politically he’s pretty much just a rich kid. I think he’d actually be more chill and less entitled this way though, bc what made him that way was a lack of interaction with other people. But yeah maybe if he became interested enough in magic he would want to pursue it and would probably get a lot of support in doing so like monetarily. He has a lot of natural curiosity so I can see that happening. This would have to take place a little further in the future bc Rocio becoming a wizard at 23 is an insane outlier with a lot of special circumstances around it, no way Angel would ever be able to do it at 19. So maybe like 1948-1950 is when it would happen as opposed to 1940.
It taking place in the future has way more of an impact on the story than the character swap lol like would the Reles takeover had worked if Rocio hadn’t gotten involved I don’t think so tbh. Cirillo doesn’t really need to be in the main story bc this is Rocio is relatively well adjusted au (I think he still would be friends with them though and have lived with them in the past, but since moved out). Tiago never gets murdered so honestly he’s probably doing very well, bc of this Gloria and Jacinto never get involved. Rocio might actually die in this bc the wolf demon and Victor were originally supposed to kill Angel since they couldn’t kill a wizard directly. Maybe she’d get killed in the second world bc Angel isn’t as serious a threat of this as they were in the main story so Gabriel (<he has a name now B)))) it’s been like a year since he was created. I might change it Iol bc it has to work as both a human name and a god name so it has to be somewhat but not too dramatic yk) wouldn’t send (subconsciously he is not fully conscious during this time) send assassins to kill them until they were actually in the second world and started having the active intent to kill him. Would Victor be alive so we know the wolf demon got sick of him and wanted to kill him at 1940 but honestly Victor is pretty smart I think he could have escaped or even killed him first. Let’s go with killing him bc fuck that guy. But I think he’s stop being an assassin after that and try to live his own life, and now that he’s an adult I think he’d be successful in that. Since I control the narrative here he might even like help Angel and Rocio that could be fun :)
Ok wait I guess the premise of this au would be Angel is a wizard pretty good at actually doing magic but he doesn’t know enough abt the theory and history and whatever, so Rocio is his like research partner on their joint project to open a portal to the second world and do research on it while there. However since we’re following the original story and bc Angel is still for the most part similar to how he was in the original story (<more mature ofc bc of his different upbringing and being almost fucking 30, and more relaxes, but he has like a similar outlook on life like both the good and bad aspects of it) I think they’d both eventually piece together like how becoming the god of the second world works, and he’s really want to try it, rocio would want to stop him from doing something stupid and insane (<also because it would inconvenience her personally, also she doesnt really trust Angel), but I think his authority and ability to do magic would outrank her and he’d be able to try to like climb the tower ascend to godhood whatever. But he’d fail and die </3 the end <3 that’s my idea
#I was wrong it did end up being kinda long RIP#I keep forgetting Angel is technically a prince even if he’s not treated as such<and so does he I think#which I find really funny#also how so many characters end up having nothing to do with anything just from this change#my ocs#rocio satapathy#angel castillo#thanks for sending this though I think this is honestly a pretty solid concept#for an au at least
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International Climate Disruption and even Hurricanes
We have to concede one thing about the climate crowd: They're versatile, adaptable. They include to be.
Back again in the '70? s, when typically the planet was in some sort of normal, cyclical awesome spell, they ranted about the Planet becoming one huge ice cube. As another normal, cyclical event, global heat, kicked in, without having even a halt or admission that they can were wrong about the ice cubes cube, they adopted the global heating mantra. When of which grew problematic, once again without skipping a beat, they shifted to "climate switch. " And, most recently, the White Residence, perhaps feeling that "climate change" wasn't nearly dramatic or scarifying enough, decided to go with "Global Climate Disruption" to replace this.
White House technology advisor, John Holdren, was pushing the particular new nomenclature last week. That's the identical John Holdren who has advocated for a redistribution associated with America's wealth in order that underdeveloped and lacking Third World nations around the world may become more formulated and less deprived by simply virtue of Americans becoming less developed and consuming much less and thereby be a little more deprived.
Got that will?
He's also the identical John Holdren, Obama's science czar plus global warming lover who is the informal Josef Mengele regarding the administration for his belief that babies aren't actually full-fledged individuals intended for their first few numerous years of life right up until they can be adequately "socialized" and fed effectively.
Like i said, they're adaptable. But I digress.
Climate moonbats are usually also flexible using hurricanes, too, due to the fact, we're told simply by climate "experts, very well like Al Gore, that the regularity and severity associated with hurricanes are directly related to the particular climate change/disruption we all earthlings have been experiencing the past half-century or so.
Gore and his "Inconvenient Truth" have been dismissed being a tall tale by basically the dumbest warmists. Throughout fact, "A top rated hurricane forecaster [William Gray, who else thinks relating hurricanes to global warming up is farcical] called Al Gore 'a gross alarmist' to make an Oscar-winning documentary about international warming. 'He's one particular of these fellas that preaches the end of the world kind of things. I do believe he's doing some sort of great disservice plus he doesn't understand what he's talking about. ' "
Naturally , Gore and their fellow warmists don't and can't describe the Long Island Express, the large storm which tore by way of and literally took apart Long Island again in 1938 after which devastated much regarding New England just before it ended way up in Canada. more info will not and can't describe the hundreds if not thousands regarding weird weather activities that pre-dated typically the naming of hurricanes and actually occurred in prehistoric times, many hundreds of centuries before man started disrupting the environment with belching industrial facilities and power plant life.
Again, flexible/adaptable are definitely the middle names of numerous climatologists today.
These people weren't even fazed when the complete climate change troubles was exposed while a fiasco in addition to a fraud last year with Climategate, the particular revelations that climatologists at East Anglia University in England have been lying in relation to global warming for a long time and fudging files to fit their particular preconceived and misbegotten theories.
Nor perform their woefully, and regularly incorrect, ultra-scientific prognostications about Mom Nature's wildest rage, hurricanes, faze typically the experts. They characteristic their mistakes to miscalculations then take a seat back and hope and pray for that BIG One, that they will level and say, "See! We told a person so! "
Let's take a let Reuters deign to explain this particular year's failure, again, of climate expert's predictions: "The 2010 Atlantic hurricane time of year has been quite mixed up in number regarding storms but is definitely likely to get down as a non-event for most individuals in the United States, which has so far dodged a major landfall. inches
Reuters continuing, "Before the August 1-Nov. 30 period got under way, residents of typhoon danger zones were warned by many forecasters they experienced a very high probability of the major hurricane generating landfall along the You. S. coastline. Of which has not occurred and with the most active element of the time of year winding down throughout the next two weeks or so, typically the chances of an important impact on typically the U. S. landmass or on energy interests in the Gulf of South america are ebbing. inches
Here comes the defensive but informative, "however: " "2010 was still likely to go down inside the record books as another in a thread of exceptionally active seasons, however. The particular United States acquired just been extremely lucky in not getting hit by a new major hurricane. very well Landfalls are just too tough to forecast.
Got that, as well? We dodged Mom Nature's bullet! Just as we have since Katrina throughout 2005. Hurricanes Dennis, Rita and Wilma in 2005 and even Ike in 2008 were nasty hard storms but , sadly for the warmists, don't come close to becoming The Big One.
With all that will alleged climate disruption taking place, that Biggie is bound to hit although when it can do, climate cooling, warming, modifying, disrupting may have nothing to do with it. They're normal, cyclical events that possess been taking place intended for eons.
Don't find out that to Gore and his pals, though. They're building oodles of cash with their charade in addition to don't offer a tinker's dam about truth and reality.
Resources available at [http://www.genelalor.com/blog1/?p=2143]
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Friendtopia Part 3: ...So, You’re Planning the Ball, Right???
We’re in Kuzco’s large bedroom. His headboard nearly reaches the ceiling, and his marble floor is expansive. There was another bed moved along the opposite wall, because I feel weird about sleeping alone in this new, unfamiliar place, and we agreed that my visit here would have more of a sleepover vibe if we slept in the same room. If it were any other person, he would have balked at having to share a room, but I just think he’s delighted to have a 24/7 audience to hear him talk about himself, and the bed in the otherwise unoccupied area of his gargantuan room was a small price to pay.
“Can you believe he said I had to get my own stuff?” Kuzco rants. “Who does he think he is?”
“I- I don’t know.” The downside to this whole sleepover vibe is that I have to listen to nonsense like this. But you know what, even if I did have my own room, I 100 percent guarantee that he would have came in there and the same thing would have happened.
“It’s called a convenience store. It’s whole purpose is to be convenient. It says so, right in the name.”
“Right, yeah,” I say, trying to get comfortable on my bed.
“What’s convenient for me is for someone else to get what I want. You know what’s not convenient? Me. Having to get everything myself. It defeats the whole purpose of the name. Why even call it a convenience store if you’re just going to inconvenience me? Might as well call it an inconvenience store.”
“Yeah, yeah that name should absolutely be changed. Convenience is relative.” I’m humoring him at this point, but I bet he’s going to think I’m serious.
“See, you get it?” (Knew it). “Why can’t the entire empire be on board? Or at least the stupid owner.” He buries his face in his hands.
“Hey, Kuzco? I know that this was a really rough day for you, but you know what might cheer you up?”
He slowly looks up at me. “I’m listening.”
“We throw a ball tomorrow,” I suggest. “When was the last time you threw a ball?”
“Years ago,” he says. “Throwing balls is a lot of work. It cuts into my sleep and hot tub time.”
“Okay, and I understand that, but how fun would it be to wear the new clothes we bought today, and dance, and…”
“And meet girls?” He lifts a brow knowingly. “Don’t lie, you’re doing this so you can talk to that girl you saw before.”
“Ughhhhhhh, okay, you’re so right, but not in the way you think. I was wrong. She’s totally annoying and pretentious and she won’t stop talking about manatees. Oh, that reminds me, the ball has to be ‘save the manatee’ themed.”
He wrinkles his nose. “What? That’s an awful theme.”
“I know, but she was talking shit about how you don’t care that manatees are an endangered species.”
“I don’t,” he reminds me.
“Well can you pretend like you do? She thinks both of us are superficial, and I’ve done a lot of social justice work, and I can’t have that.” I flop down on the bed dramatically. I squeeze my eyes shut. When was the last time someone was so wrong about me? Oh yeah, I remember. That foreign dignitaries dinner.
I feel extra weight beside me on the bed. “You know you don’t have to prove anything to her, right?” I hear his voice say softly. “She’s a basic bitch who has no idea what she’s talking about. And she doesn’t know you.”
“You’re right,” I say. “But she will. We’re going to throw the best ‘save the manatees’ ball this empire has ever seen.”
“Whyyyy,” he moans. “Why the theme? Why can’t it be something cooler? And about me?”
“Because proving people wrong is what we do. And,” I let out a sigh. “If I’m being honest, maybe raising awareness for endangered manatees isn’t the worst thing in the world. I mean, it’s so terrible how tourists assume they’re dangerous and kill them.”
“That’s so dumb. They’re like the laziest creatures in the Incan Empire.”
I snort. “Second laziest.”
He turns to me. “Yeah, that reminds me, can you plan the ball? I’m going to need my hot tub time after how stressful today has been.”
I let out a sigh. “Yeah, fine.” Planning a ball wasn’t exactly on my list for this getaway, but I’m great at delegating, and at least I’ll be able to make it look like a legit “save the manatees” ball was the plan all along, and not something I spontaneously came up with on the spot. I start to head for the door, but I feel a hand close around my arm. “What now?” I ask.
Kuzco looks at me concernedly. “You haven’t screamed yet.”
“What?” I ask.
“Back in the marketplace, you said that you needed a place to scream without seeming crazy, and you haven’t done that yet. I can’t have you taking your angry energy to deal with my servants. It’ll make me look bad.”
I don’t even know where to begin with that. “…Me? Make you look bad?”
“You know where’s a great place to get rid of anger? Hot tubs.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense!”
“So? I need company and my servants can wait. It’s hot tub time.”
~
“She called the beach superficial?”
“I know!” I explode.
“Fuck that!” Kuzco says, slapping the hot tub water. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“And-and…” I was on a roll. “If she claims she’s not superficial, or whatever, why does she have to have a bag that costs…what’s the conversion rate here…” I try to mentally convert in my head. Math has never been my strong point.
“No clue,” Kuzco says. Such a promising emperor, he is. You know what, actually, that’s not fair. You can be a world leader and still be shitty at math.
“Two thousand Kuzcoins,” I estimate. His eyes widen. “Yeah. I’m telling you, what she’s doing is all for show.”
“Wait, so does that make us…superficial?” Kuzco asks, a furrow between his brows.
Good question. “I mean, I hope not,” I say, sinking further into the hot tub. “Honestly, at least we own what we are. At least we never claim not to like expensive things, rather than claiming that it doesn't matter while enjoying all the benefits.”
“Yeah,” Kuzco says. For a minute I think he’s actually mulling it over. Then he says, “So are you good? The ball won’t plan itself.”
I shake my head. “You may be the only emperor who hands off ball planning responsibilities to his honored guest who is supposed to be on vacation.”
He looks confused. “But you like it, don’t you?”
I let out a sigh. “I want it to go perfectly,” I say, getting out of the hot tub.
“Same difference,” he calls out as I dry off in a rose-scented towel.
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*screams in at least make it make sense*
Numbers don’t be adding up here
#you would think that 93% of CRITICS who have watched it who have said ‘yeah this is worth watching’ is telling#but nope just... just waitin here :] still... for any news#also side note coming from a tall girl (I’m about 5 foot 11 something like that) ...it’s not... no... OUR LIVES AIN’T MOVIE WORTHY DIFFEREN#...we’re just people like it’s not... it’s not that inconvenient or dramatic :/#sorry one did not come here to hear me rant about Tall Girl (haven’t seen it just have heard a lot about it)#also... hey... maybe instead of enabling stuff that has toxic relationship stuff in it like giving it 3 movies... maybe ya shouldn’t do that#idk I mean it’s just a lil suggestion... like maybe don’t do that...#enable something that shows off positive mlm friendship and relationships and has respresentation and shows grief etc. etc. like enable that#jatp#julie and the phantoms#jatp netflix#netflixwewantjatp2#netflixwewantjatps2#netflixwewantjatpseason2#renew jatp#jatp renewal#jatp julie#julie jatp#julie molina#jatp luke#luke jatp#luke patterson#jatp reggie#reggie jatp#reggie peters#jatp alex#alex jatp#alex mercer#jatp willie#willie jatp
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hii love, love your fics so I just had to request again! Could request a Kaz andd reader where he says something mean to her without meaning it but shes really sad an stattes crying to jesper and he gets angry and tells Kaz to apologise? Angst with a happy ending,please!! Thanks a ton darling💗💗
Forgiveness (Kaz Brekker x Reader)
thank you for requesting again! school has been kicking my ass, so sorry for how long writing this took, but I hope you like it! :)
Warnings: mentions of catcalling, (small) injury, idk?
Genre: angst to fluff
Word Count: 1910
To say you’ve had a shitty day would’ve been an understatement.
Heading to the White Rose to see Nina, you’d been catcalled multiple times. Maybe you were being dramatic, but the comments felt more scathing than usual, and it had gotten under your skin quicker than you thought it would. You didn’t want to use Kaz’s reputation to scare them off, but it wouldn’t have mattered. You’d still be viewed as a possession, just one that didn’t belong to them.
You had snapped at the last stranger who’d given their perverse ideals of you, and that altercation had left you a lovely slash on your arm from defending yourself. You had temporarily wrapped it up on a scarf, but you knew you would probably have to wrap it with gauze on it when you returned.
When you had asked the clerk where Nina was, he said that he’d seen her leave, but she said nothing to him. Which meant the entire journey here was a waste, and that you’d have to head home without her guaranteed cooperation with the plan your boyfriend was creating.
“Kaz, she’s not there. Clerk said she went out, but he didn’t get where. It was a waste of a trip,” you sigh, throwing down your cloak on a random chair.
Kaz sighs, lowering his head as he writes out another part of the plan. “Really, Y/N? You couldn’t go out and look for her? She told us a couple days ago that she was going to start taking trips to the market at this time. You could’ve found her there.”
“I’m sorry?” you scoff quietly, but try to adjust your tone at the icy stare he gives you. You could’ve said that nicer, sure. “I didn’t think to look for her there because I didn’t know that, Kaz. Are you sure she told us that?”
“Yes, she did. Were you not paying attention?”
“I don’t think I was there,” you refute. “I would’ve remembered if she told me.”
“I don’t have time to talk to people who can’t do their jobs,” he mutters. “Just get out and waste time for now. Let me finish what I’m working on and we’ll find her together later.”
“The hell you mean I can’t do my job?” you protest. “I did what you asked. I went to go look for her, and she wasn’t there. I thought your instructions were not to stray from my path, because you wanted me home quickly and safely.”
“If you had any shred of common sense, then you’d know that I’d only say that because I’m supposed to care about you. I’d take information over your safety.”
You still. What?
He’s supposed to care about you? Does that imply he doesn’t? He would take information over your safety.
Does he want to break up?
Stop being dramatic. Kaz doesn’t play implication games with something like that. He’d tell you outright.
But he wouldn’t care for you if he got what he wanted.
“I-um, oh,” you take a shuddery breath. Your chest feels tight and your eyes are going to water. Kaz hates dealing with over-emotional people. He needs people who can keep their cool, people who can think their way out of things. You need to get out of here before he looks up at you. You’re useless, you’re an idiot, no wonder he said you couldn’t do your job properly.
Too late. He looks up at you, frowning at your silence, but you quickly turn away, still trying to hide your face.
You laugh, and even you can tell that it’s not genuine, just an attempt at trying to hide your wavering voice. “I’m fine, Kaz. Uh- yeah, yeah! We’ll go out later and-” your throat catches as you swallow harshly. “We’ll go out and look for Nina later. See you then.” You quickly brush your tears out of the way, opening the door and stepping out.
Your steps echo down the hall, and you try and find your way to your room through the tears that now stream down your face.
I’d take information over your safety.
You still don’t know if he means it. He’s angry, but- Kaz was usually extremely candid when he was upset.
He might’ve meant every word.
You don’t notice Jes in front of you, and as you pass him, he catches your arm.
You wince, his fingers land right on the slash, and he hastily lets go, looking at you with concern. Everyone was usually about as emotional as a rock in the Barrel. What made you cry like that?
“Y/N, you okay? What happened? Why did you flinch from me? Did I do something wrong?”
His face resembles a kicked puppy, and your heart constricts with slight guilt.
“No, no- it’s not your fault, Jes- your fingers landed right on a slash I got, that’s all.”
He looks at his hands, covered in slight blood. You tug at your soaked-through scarf and look at it, and it looks even worse than when you first got it. Your grimace. So much for getting him to worry less about you. “It looks a lot worse than it actually is.” Your words are frantic and stuttered, but you hope he gets the point.
“How did that happen? I thought with Kaz’s reputation, you would be untouchable. Why isn’t he taking care of you?”
You smile sadly. The mention of Kaz tightens your chest again. “Guy scrapped with me for a little while after catcalling me. I didn’t want to use Kaz to defend myself- me, with him? He’d be even more of a target. And Kaz is a bit upset with me right now. He doesn’t know what happened.”
“Why the hell would he be upset?”
“I didn’t get the information he wanted,” your voice is small and weak. “And he said he’d rather have the information more than my safety.”
“Which is why you’re crying.” Jes’s face has a look of understanding.
“Yes,” you affirm quietly. “Today’s just been a bad day. I’ll be alright, though, really. I know Kaz doesn’t like dealing with weak people, so I thought I wouldn’t bother-”
“You’re not weak.” His voice gains a complete new edge, and his face is determined. You suddenly get a bad feeling. What’s Jes going to suggest you do? “We’re going to go confront him. Right now.”
“Jes, I look like I’ve been crying. I’d at least like to compose myself a bit.”
“No.” He makes sure he’s grabbing your other arm, before leading you back to Kaz’s office. “He needs to know how much he’s fucked up. He’s smart, but really,” Jesper sighs, “He’s an idiot. And you deserve better than that.”
Your heart warms at his words, but you’re still nervous as he leads you down the hall, and you’re definitely panicking when he opens the door without knocking.
Kaz looks up, and a brief look of surprise is in his eyes as he looks at Jesper. Why didn’t Jesper knock? And why would Jes need him, especially at midday? Wouldn’t he be out gambling?
Kaz prepares himself to hear something stupid. He doesn’t notice you standing behind him, and his attention drifts back down to his plan.
“What do you need?”
“Apologize.”
“For?”
“For being a bloody idiot and hurting your girlfriend.”
Hurting you? He looks back up to him, and this time, you’re standing next to Jesper.
“I didn’t-” Kaz starts, but your appearance makes him go silent.
Your expression is blank, but tear streaks clearly stain your face, and you clearly look like you don’t want to be confronting him. Jesper had put you up to this.
Were you too afraid of him to do it yourself?
What did he do for you to look like that?
“You didn’t do anything?” Jesper’s voice is incredulous. “She went to the White Rose to try and find Nina, and then you come home and treat her like she’s useless because she doesn’t get what you want. She’s your girlfriend, not a goon. Have some respect for her, yeah? She followed exactly what you said, to try and get home quickly and safely, and even then, she still gets hurt. Did you even notice the bleeding gash?”
“Jes,” you whisper, “it’s fine, really-”
He doesn’t listen, and grabs at your wrist to lift your arm, pulling down the scarf and revealing the bloody cut. Kaz blinks, concern and guilt briefly flashing on his face before he smooths back his expression.
How didn’t he notice? How did that happen?
“Y’know how she got that? Men were harassing her, and she fought one of them because she didn’t want to use your name as her shield. She was trying to prevent painting an even bigger target on your back. And then you go as far,” Jes laughs angrily, “as to say that she’s not worth more than information for your fucking plan? And through all of that, she leaves you alone because she doesn’t want to be an inconvenience to you. Your girlfriend thinks her emotions are burdening you. Get your fucking head out of your ass. Either you apologize to her, or she’s breaking up with you.”
You and Kaz are both left standing still, both watching as Jesper stalks back toward the door, opening it and slamming it shut.
The sound echoes through the silent room.
You don’t know what to say. Part of you feels vindicated, Jesper did the hard part for you, but part of you feels guilty- Jesper also made it a lot bigger than it could’ve been.
You let the guilt win out.
“I’m sorry, Jes’s wording was a bit harsh, I’ll take my leave, it’s really not that big-”
“Stay,” Kaz interrupts. “Please.”
You sit down on the chair next to his, and he turns to you, pulling out gauze and alcohol wipes.
“I can do it myself,” you say hurriedly. “I know-”
“You’re not a burden to me.” He avoids your gaze, he doesn’t want to see your reaction, in case he really would lose you after this. “Let me help you.”
“Okay.”
You hiss through your teeth as he cleans the gash, a small “sorry” escaping him as he continues. There’s still a silence hanging between both of you. He wraps it carefully, looking up at you when he’s done.
“Not too tight?”
“No,” you answer quietly. “Thank you, Kaz.”
There’s another silence between you.
“I care about you,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t trade your safety for anything.”
You know it’s his way of saying sorry.
“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring smile. “I know. I’ve just had a bad day, that’s all.”
“It’s not,” he argues. “If you ever need to defend yourself, use my name if it’ll get them to stop. I don’t care if it paints whatever sized target on my back.” You open your mouth to interject, but he continues. “I’m already a wanted criminal in Ketterdam. However much you increase the target by doesn’t matter, so long as you come home alright.”
“Okay,” you nod. “I will.”
“I love you, darling.”
Your eyes widen at his words. He doesn’t say it often, he knows that you already know that.
Jesper must’ve really shaken him.
“I love you too,” you reply softly. “Thank you.”
It’s his turn to look surprised. “For?”
“For caring,” you respond. “For being you. For loving me.”
A faint smile etches on his lips. “I always will.”
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#six of crows#six of crows x reader#soc kaz#kaz soc#soc x reader#kaz x reader#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker imagine#jesper fahey#thank you for the request!#request
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